I'm Shauna.
“Life moves pretty fast.
If you don't stop and look around
once in a while,
you could miss it.”
― Ferris Bueller
Hello there!
I am constantly curious about
how the mind works,
why being fully
engaged in the
here and now
gives us calm focus,
and how we can change our minds by
practicing our joy.
One of my deepest joys is to write about all of this, plus the taste of blackberries in late August, Ted Lasso, the balm of the panoramic view, making friends with our own minds, and weird little moments of joy.
So, if you asked me what I do in the world, I would say this: I live my life and I write about it.
Being in one of her communities is an explorative and healing experience.
Shauna’s unique perspective helps bring clarity to so much of life’s chaos. Time with her is always well-spent.”
Shauna Ahern’s beautifully crafted collection of essays ferries us through her courageous journey from decades of shame and uncertainty toward a life of agency, freedom, and dignity.
In Enough, Shauna breaks open the myth that women who want are to be feared, and allows us to take up the space we were born to occupy. Plus, she’s very, very funny.
This is not hasty positivity nor artificial optimism. This is Shauna, meeting us where we are with genuine compassion; guiding us back to our own wisdom; walking alongside us as we examine what might be blocking the brilliant parts of life. We may not always be able to control what happens, but with practice we can know and experience a more constant joy.
I write about my continually unfolding process of understanding what it means to be fully alive. I am hungry to feel fully alive. I feel compelled to share what helps me to find light everyday, especially on the hard days.
I've published award-winning cookbooks, a food memoir, and a memoir in essays about learning to let go of the story that I'm not good enough.
What runs through all of them?
Stories about the mindful joy of being alive.
I'm a woman who writes. I'm alive. I have voluminous knowledge of lots of things and I still don't know what the fuck I'm doing, sometimes. And I'm at peace with that.
I'd love to have a conversation with you. I want to hear your stories.
Here's to apples in season, Nikki McClure prints in the kitchen, gluten-free blueberry muffins, a cat purring in my lap, a mostly filled notebook and a fountain pen, a quiet house with children sleeping in, my mind creating new ideas every few moments, Michelle Obama's book open on the couch, and a day full of warm and sometimes confusing human connections ahead.
Let's be alive while we can.
Let it rip.