Today's writing is for those who've felt disheartened by receiving an intuitive reading in some way — be it astrology, human design, general 'intuitive' reflections, or perhaps reading something about your chart in a book and taking on the words shared as gospel.

This past September, I attended a dreamwork retreat. We spent five days deepening into our dreams and giving voice and expression to the underlying messages woven within them. One of my retreat intentions was to become more intimately attuned to the harmony, resonance, and expression of my Soul’s Voice…my true inner voice.

Last week, I dreamed of violent extremists infiltrating my home, wearing badges that said “Our Future.” I sensed they weren't specifically looking for me - but would undoubtedly kill anything or anyone who crossed their path. There was no shred of empathy, humanity, or heart within the extremists.

These times are not easy. We are witnessing climate collapse, atrocious war crimes, misogyny, sexism, racism, too many isms — lessening of women's rights. All will not be “okay” for many people, and the truth is, it hasn't been “okay” for many people for a long time.

Around 15 years ago, I became obsessed with past lives. I read Brian Weiss' Many Lives, Many Masters, followed by his several sequels. I then learned about Michael Newton's Life Between Lives; I read his books that detailed hypnotherapy experiences where people recalled memories of the afterlife in which they accessed deeply soulful clarity on patterns unfolding in their lives. 

This upcoming January is the 10-year anniversary of Angelic Breath Healing! Today I'm called to give voice to one of the core values that is the bedrock of my business…a value that keeps me in necessary check, again and again.

What would a Summer infused with Saints feel like? What might unfold when I surrender summer into the serenade of the Saints? While these three words inspired the series I offered called Summer of Saints, it's also served as a guiding star for me this past summer. 

While each of the Saints exude unconditional, heartfelt service – they all have unique signatures and essences. St. Rita feels like my resilient, unf*ckable-with aunt who makes honey in her spare time – the one who surprises me with her sweetness. The one I call to share the best and worst of times with.

There is a difference between The Call and The Pull. The Call beckons to the threshold - that liminal space between the known and the unknown, between vision and action. The Call might feel uncomfortable, scary, exhilarating - courageous. The Call might feel boring, mundane, and necessary. The Call might feel easy but not simple to ignore.

Around six months ago, while participating in an Advanced Spiritual Psychology training, I chose to couple my training with a nightly dreaming intention related to healing and resolving lifelong fears. Before bed, my prayer sounded something like…

My bedside booklet Then I Woke Up: Dreaming with Mother Earth is now available for purchase! This 45-page booklet shares a series of six Earth-centric dreams I've received over the past few years. 

Hildegard of Bingen lived in 12th century Germany as a visionary, prophetess, poet, herbalist, angelic musician, Benedictine abbess, and mystic whose teachings, musical compositions, scientific discoveries, healing methods, and art remains relevant and revolutionary today. 

Last week, I went to breakfast with a new friend here in Colorado. On my walk over to meet up with her, I was reflecting on the upcoming series I'm facilitating called Doing Things Differently. A question present in my consciousness was – how can I speak to those who yearn to experience a fresh start yet are just … over it? Frozen over? Have already tried doing things differently only to end up in the same place, inside and out?

And so we begin a newly numbered year. I find there’s a quiet liminality to this time of year — an enchanting in-between that invites deepening intimacy with the space between stars, between thoughts, between milestone moments.

I’ve always considered myself a late bloomer. I believed in Santa Claus until 8th grade – and stopped only because my science teacher did a lecture before Christmas on why it's scientifically impossible for Santa to be real. It was supposed to be a fun and playful lecture before the holiday break and yet, I remember feeling completely deflated.