The truth is. I would probably have done it anyway. In fact, I know I would have. I’d do it again, only this time, I’d assert my self-worth upfront. She called on a Saturday night, while I was watching The Hobbit with my family. When I picked up the phone, she launched into a hurried, some-what desperate speech about why she really needed energy healing, not later, but now. So I relented.

You might say I’m a sucker, and perhaps I am. The truth is, I love helping others. I love energy work. In an instant I am transported with another person into that pure space of Divine Love. There is nothing quite like it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not always easy. I feel the other person’s energy in my own body until it is cleared, and that means a bit of discomfort and unease at times. But, it’s always worth it.

It was worth it that Saturday, even though, looking back, I had that inkling of a feeling when I first picked up the phone that she’d never pay. It grew to a near warning by the time I’d hung up over an hour later, but I was still riding the waves of light. I think she was too. I think, perhaps for that hour or so, she had an intention of possibly paying for the services I’d rendered, but then decided not to.

The next morning, after the light had waned inside of me, I began to feel my ego again and its persistent voice of fear. You were had. It told me. You did that for nothing. Have you learned your lesson?

Now, days later, I am still grappling with the ego. It was, I know, a lesson in assertiveness. A lesson in self-worth. A lesson I still needed to learn. Whether she knows it or not, the woman who called me on a Saturday night, gave me a gift. She showed me what fears still lurk inside of me, and what I still need to over-come. She taught me that sometimes the trust needs to come from within, and not without.

Will I do it again? Yes, and no. I will continue to help those in need of healing, as I have before, even if they cannot pay for my services. I will not, I hope though, be “had” again. It leaves an unpleasant aftertaste in the heart, and, frankly, I’m worth more than that.



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The Dark Side of the Sun

IMG_4759I’ve been thinking a lot about Robin William since I saw the announcement of his death on Facebook yesterday. I’m sure I’m not alone. Even though I didn’t know his personal story and his long journey with depression, I always thought Robin Williams had sad eyes behind the etched lines of humor. He wore the facade of joy, which he altruistically gave to those lives he touched, while absorbing the world’s pain.

I’m not a trained psychologist, but I can’t help believing that many people, like Robin, who suffer from depression, are empaths. They cannot help but take in the sadness of their surroundings and make it their own. When there is an over-whelming darkness around us, the sun inside is covered in shadows.

Ours is a world of heart-breaking tragedy. If you turn on the news, you are led to believe that fear is the predominate force in our Universe. But, we’ve got it all wrong. It is love, my friends, it is love. The light of love is always there. The voice of love is quiet. It is the tranquil face of peace overlooked by the angry mask of war; it is the graceful beauty of truth silenced by fearsome lies. It is always there though. The light never dies, we just hide it, or worse, ignore it.

Robin, it is my hope that your beautiful light dimmed by sadness will help all of us find our way back to love. This is a plea to all souls lost in the shadows. Remember your light. This light is in all of us, as wells as in the myriad faces of Nature, and in the orbs in the heavens. We all share this light, yet we have let the dark side of fear take over so much of our world.

I don’t know what it is like to be chronically depressed to the point of suicided. Even in my darkest moments, I never seriously contemplated taking my life, so I can’t speak to the depth of Robin William’s sadness. I can only guess that the weight of the world became too much for him to bear. And, I have to believe, that if our world, collectively, were focused on the light, he would still be with us today in human form. May your soul find home again, Robin.

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Going With The Flow Of Life

Alethea Kehas:

A lovely reminder…

Originally posted on Endless Light and Love:

surfs up

In Taoism the Tao ‘Wu Wei’ is often compared to a river. When we talk about going with the flow, we are describing the Tao as having a definitive direction, just like a river flowing in a certain way. Since we live in the Tao, it is important to understand its direction, just as those who swim in a river must understand how its currents work and how this effects their ability to swim, or not.

Moving in flow with the Tao is like swimming downstream. It requires little or no effort at all and you can travel a large distance in a very short time without expending all your energy. Moving against the Tao is like swimming upstream. No matter how hard you try and how hard you swim against the flow of the river, you will struggle to get anywhere and very soon you become exhausted and will…

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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.


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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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