Entering bliss through the heart

It’s the only way, really. Isn’t it? To enter bliss through the heart. Yet, we try so many other ways. I am thinking of the energy of the second chakra in particular. That womb of creation where energy stirs in fiery red/orange when truly ignited by love. I am thinking about Kimberly Harding of Soul Healing Art (check it out, she has wonderful posts) who often writes and paints about this chakra. And, I am thinking about the many messengers Spirit has sent me over the past week.

Yesterday, there was the hummingbird, a messenger of joy, soundlessly flying her green-gold glory into my gardens to penetrate and retrieve the sweet elixir of life from the open, red flowers of bee balm.


One may think of sex, in the many ways the womb of creation, with its feminine energy is penetrated by the masculine energy of activation. Sometimes, fertilization occurs and something quite wonderful and new is born. There is the energy that is created when the masculine and feminine energies peak into climatic joy, and truly merge and join in a harmonic frequency of bliss.

And, one can think of the hummingbird, and how penetration of joy need not be overtly masculine and never needs to be aggressive. In fact, it’s the aggression, the over-use of male energy that creates a damping and compression of the feminine fire. Look at that hummingbird making love to the bee balm. The image is beautiful and soft. The bird knows only joy and light, for it is her purpose.


There is nothing aggressive, nothing forced about her light-body as it silently hums over the flower. The hummingbird, with her green-gold feathers, lives through the heart, the divine path to joy and the opening of creative fire.

Two days before I saw the hummingbird, I found myself creating a circle of green stones around an orange stone. The green stones resonated with the heart chakra, the orange, the sacral, or second chakra. I was, I realized, activating the sacral chakra through the heart, in preparation for an energy healing session.

Spirit often brings me symbols and messages in dreams and visions before I have healing sessions with clients. The eve before this session, I had fallen into sleep with a vision of Mt. St. Helens.  I felt my soul leave my body on the wings of Spirit, as I soured over the exposed womb of a blood-red mountain. I was seeing the energy of the volcanic mountain not with the eye, but with the soul.

There were messages from the goddess of the mountain, some of which I can still recall, others have imprinted their emotional memory upon my cells. It was the energy that mattered. That womb, open and exposed and still working to heal. Gaia’s red energy activated through her green heart. A larger, much more intense, representation of the hummingbird and the bee balm I would see days later.

Sometimes, when our creative fires are dormant for too long, when we allow them to build against the walls of a womb without allowing them the freedom to explore the channels of our mind/body/soul, we face the threat of eruption. This happens to Gaia, this happens to humans, as we are all one. We share compression, we share release. When I flew over the volcano, I saw a sacrifice. I saw a gift. I felt the energy of Gaia open and exposed, so that we could learn and receive.

A wise, intuitive friend of mine pointed me to the Gaia Stone after telling her about my dream. It is a brilliant green gem forged from the ashes of St. Helen’s. A heart-stone created from fire. It’s frequency works to heal the emotional heart inside of us, to find the balance lost.

I have found that all fears find a place in the heart. When one is lucky enough to live in the pure state of joy, like the hummingbird, there is no need for violent eruptions of energy, there is only the soft energy of a heart filled with joy. Can we get there together? Can we heal our hearts, and in doing so, heal the wounded heart of the Earth?

Posted in Animal Messengers, Dreams, Energy Healing, Gaia & Elementals, Memoir | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

The heart-breaking reality of brilliance


I used to think brilliance was measured on a scale of grades and accolades. The more awards, praise and the higher the marks, the more glorious the rainbow of your brilliance shined. Or, so I thought when I was a child.

This was the environment in which I was raised. Sadly, today’s children are still being raised, in many ways, by this standard of brilliance. Although I sometimes question the choice, I am raising my children in a town with a school system that measures brilliance by test scores, and the push of eager parents and teachers to differentiate children from the crowd. You can’t have a top, without a bottom and a middle.

My approach has been to intervene as little as possible. I have made the conscious choice to not be one of those parents who insists her child is “better” than the rest, yet here is where I see the heart-breaking reality of “brilliance.” My daughter, a natural magnet of “success” always, easily, rises to the top, my son, who, at the age of 9, has already determined that “God never intended there to be war, murder or competition,” always seems to be one of those kids stuck in the lost ground of the middle.

I believe my son is brilliant, in fact I know he is brilliant. But, I also believe every child is brilliant. I see brilliance, not as a ladder, or tier, but as a spectrum of light radiating from the heart of the soul. Each child, each being, I believe, comes into life with a unique light that no one else shares. In this way, there is no hierarchy, but billions of points of light all glowing to individual frequencies. This is how a beautiful rainbow is birthed to light.

I believe it is our job as parents and caregivers, as teachers and mentors, to help our children find their unique brilliance and give them the nurturing environment in which to shine. Sometimes, when I see my son stuck in the middle, with a crowd of jostling children vying for that top spot to shine atop the rest, whether it be in a sport, or in the classroom, I question whether the environment we have chosen for him.

It is heartbreaking to have to tell your child that he is, in fact special, when he is over-looked by his teachers, peers and coaches. Yet, I know that we are here for a reason. I have no doubt my son’s brilliance will shine out to the world in time and he will do the big things his soul has intended in this world. It makes no difference to me whether these “big things” are big by society’s standards, because my son, I have faith, will always be living through the heart. His wise, old soul reminds me of his brilliant light, which prefers to glow quietly, each moment of each day. He is no better, or worse than his peers. He is his own, unique light.

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The Feather


It was an impromptu decision. I was desperate for something to do, the kids bored and magnetized too long to their respective screens. We ate a hasty lunch, took the dogs for a quick walk down the road and threw some snacks and water bottles in the car. The three of us were on our way to the Polar Caves.

Even though we were driving to a waterless destination while the temperature was rising closer and closer to unbearably warm, I was simply happy we had all agreed on something to do.  I hadn’t thought too much about the significance of where we were going, until hour later, not even when I saw the feather.

It was in the truck in back of me. Looming large and proud, the feather pointed  toward the sky and nestled up against the cab in the back of the truck. Wow, that’s a large feather, I thought to myself, How odd that it’s in the back of that truck. Still, I thought Isn’t it beautiful. I marveled at the detail, how I could see the individual veins, and the way the white gave way to a crest of gray-black. It looked so real!

What I strange thing to have in the bed of a truck I thought as it pulled into the left-hand lane to pass me,   fake feather, like a flag. I looked at the truck again, now in front of me. Two narrow, brown cylinders rested against the cab, bearing no resemblance to a feather whatsoever.

I put the feather out of my mind as we pulled into the Polar Caves entrance and tumbled out into the dripping heat. I had, after all, two kids to watch and a series of caves to crawl through that would test my endurance for confined spaces. It was a quick trip, the three of us making our way through the loop of caves in the cliffs in just under an hour in our effort to compete with the crowd and the heat above ground. Ironically, there was still, in the middle of July, a thick slab of winter ice slowly melting in one of the caves. I could have stayed down there all day, if not for the kids, the line of people behind me, and my claustrophobia threatening to consuming me if I lingered more than two seconds without moving toward light.

It wasn’t until hours later, when I was back home walking the dogs around the block after yoga class, that I let the feather return to me to be mulled over in my mind, the mind that appeared to be playing tricks on me. The feather, I realized, had been pointed up as though in a headdress. I thought back to the Polar Caves, and then it hit me. It was a sign, even if its message was illusory. I thought about how the mind sometimes sees things that aren’t really there, but rarely by accident. I call these images, messages from the world of Spirit, or our Higher Selves. I had, I realized seen a feather for a reason, and seemed fitting that I had been on my way to an old Native American site. I was pretty sure I knew which of my guides was trying to reach me.


Posted in Animal Messengers, Gaia & Elementals, Reflections | Tagged , , , , | 10 Comments

Rising above Childhood Drama

I love Kim’s work, and this piece I found particularly touching. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did:

Rising above Childhood Drama.

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My Other Ex

I am thrilled to announce that I am one of 35 contributing writers for the HerStories anthology My Other Ex: Women’s True Stories of Leaving and Losing Friends, which will be released on September 15, 2014. If you’d like to preorder a copy of the book, please go here

It promises to be great read, with a diverse and talented set of women writers sharing their stories of friendship break-ups and the scars they leave behind. In my essay, I take you back to my childhood and the turbulent years of early adolescence, where friendships are subject to dissolve from the animosity of envy. Other writers share experiences of friendship break-ups that occur years later, in adulthood, when lives that once intersected harmoniously suddenly veer off in different directions, leaving a wake of heartbreak and misunderstanding behind.

Although each story is unique, I suspect there will be many common threads that tie them together. Who, after all, has not experienced the pain of a friendship lost? Who has not whiled away sleepless hours wondering what went wrong? How has not the balm of healing for the wounds that linger?

Order  your copy today!


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I love this! Brought chills as I read it, as I felt guided to create a poem, a call to Isis, on the 18th of June: http://thedailyerasure.com/2014/06/18/isis-2/


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A Taste of My Garden in June

I love photographing nature, perhaps more than I love writing, because the muse of Nature never leaves. It was a beautiful day today, and I couldn’t help taking out the camera and walking through my gardens. I hope these images of Nature’s beauty lift your spirit, as they lifted mine.

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