On Angels & Miracles; A Beach Story

Written Feb 26,2022

ON ANGELS & MIRACLES….

This morning we went to the beach early.

Like, sweatshirts and coats early.

My son was cold and I needed exercise so I got up and started running, playing with the dog and my son got off the chair and followed.

We were laughing and running around the empty beach and he said he wanted to go, so we started walking back toward our chairs.

He said, “Mom, did you say earlier that you’d seen a whole conch shell?” He’s been on the lookout for a conch shell.

“No, I said I saw a big whole grey shell.” (The kind that looks like a fan.) But I didn’t pick it up because he doesn’t care about whole shells like that.

“Oh,” he said, and then the dog started darting down the beach acting SUPER ODD. She doesn’t stray from us, but she was going at least 75 yards and then turning around and doing the same thing in the other direction, super fast like a greyhound, nonstop.

We stood and laughed and my son said, “WHAT?! What is she doing!?” And I felt the feeling of the animal showing us something, the animal being aware of something we weren’t aware of, and I encouraged him to stand, watch her, and wait. We stood facing the dog and the water where she charged back and forth at the shoreline.

When we turned around to get our chairs, there was a grey & white conch ON HIS CHAIR. 🐶🐚✨

“What!?! Did you do this?!” he exclaimed.

No, of course I hadn’t.

“No,” I said laughing.

“HOW?!” he demanded, totally elated. “HOW!?”

“Who knows!” I said.

A gift.

That was clear.

A miracle, even.

He said, “Honestly I don’t feel like this can be real right now.”

Tears naturally came to my eyes. If there is a distinct feeling of angels nearby, I felt it then.

Maybe someone we didn’t see walking by gifted my son what he wanted all week.

Or, maybe…. miracles are real.

What do you think, are miracles real? 😉🌟🌊

Reclaiming Feminine Nourishment: Soul Medicine & Healing the Mother Wound

That’s when I saw a large replica of my womb and stomach like a chamber, and it was stuffed with hardened sticks, logs, pieces of furniture, tables and chairs. It was like an uncomfortable nest. Who knows how long it had been sitting there – these things I’d taken in that had never nourished me at all. How could they? 

One of my two cats will choose love and touch over food. She was feral as a kitten and she’s learned to trust my hands. As I dish out the high quality cat food and sit it in front of her, she’ll follow my hands if I walk away. She’ll opt for touch over food. So I stand beside her so she can eat without alarm. 

A fetus or gestating mammal in utero can sense the mood of the mother, and reacts to it from the time it’s just a few-celled zygote. If the mother has any kind of barrier – like stress, or fear about there being enough resources, or doubts about wanting an unplanned pregnancy – the fetus feels it and this creates what’s called a “nourishment barrier” that the living thing will likely take with them throughout their lives. 

It’s like that strange feeling that you weren’t wanted as much as your siblings, or you somehow caused your mother’s stress but you can’t find any earthly reason for it. 

Recently, I left an appointment and found a voicemail from my best friend in college, who I hadn’t talked to in a few years. I realized how deeply I missed her, and a few other relationships that I hadn’t nurtured, and then that in perfect combination with the effects of the appointment, I went home and had a three hour psycho-somatic integration period, like I was remembering something profound. 

That “something” seemed to be nurturance.  

I reached out to these friends and said things like, “I’m sorry, when my life became difficult, I self-isolated. I miss you. I love you. Let’s connect.”

My therapist calls this “reaching.” People with nourishment barriers have a hard time “reaching” for what we want or need.  We act like we’ve got it all under control. We go without. We ignore the alarms as they sound. 

There’s an end of the road to that, I imagine, whether forced or chosen. 

I sort of cracked open two days later at a fire circle, speaking about this inherited tendency that my mother had modeled for me to always appear strong and independent, to resist asking for help. As I spoke this, my body started to leak tears, my voice caught, and I began to quiver a bit – sure signs of loss of control – and I let it happen as I said I was opting now for nourishment and connection. Again, I reached. 

In response, the elder Grandmother of the circle asked me if I’d lay down on my back beside the fire. Always up for a soul experience, I said of course I’d do this. 

She asked one man to drum and a woman to sing and she began putting her hands on my face. The way she moved her hands let me know she could feel the tension that I hold on the left side of my face and body. 

She invited other women to touch and nourish me, and soon everyone in the circle was signing and I was crying, aware that it was one of the most beautiful things to have ever happened to me, yet I couldn’t fully integrate it in that moment. I tried to take in the touch, especially, as it was so generous and I didn’t realize how much I needed it. She asked me to flip from my back to my stomach, and I was aware of the closeness of my belly to the Earth. 

Recently I did a “regression” journey back to the womb of my mother, as I wondered what it felt like to be in her womb, given the magnitude of nourishment barrier I have carried. As a child, I wasn’t nurtured very much at all – I don’t remember being held or comforted when I was upset. I wasn’t allowed to ask for things I wanted. I got the sense I annoyed her very much. As a little one, I stopped “reaching” early on. When I regressed into the womb in meditation, it felt like something akin to fire in the cells and neurons. Something like chemical poisoning and I couldn’t escape the heat. 

Lately I’ve been closely tracking what my body wants as nourishment – for food, for rest, for comfort. It wants to play with clay, to eat warm squash soup and fall foods, to dance to my “eros” playlist, to journal much more than usual, to find no problem in anything. 

When I try to come up, to find reason, to reengage and make something new happen, she pulls me back down and in. 

I’m aware that if I don’t do this now, there is no other time.

About a week after the fire circle, I woke at dawn deeply tucked into the layers of my bed on a chilly fall morning. 

The Inner Earth Grandmothers of the Heartland reached out to me. I said in connection and gratitude, as I always do, “I Am Here.” 

They invited me into their council chamber. They invited me to lay down, with my head in a lap, similar to what happened beside the fire. 

First they told me to lay on my back. They asked me to pair with the frequency of the inside of their Earthly chamber. My breathing slowed as I matched what they were offering. 

They encouraged me to roll over onto my stomach and press my belly onto the Earth, again the same thing that had happened next to the fire. 

That’s when I saw a large replica of my womb and stomach like a chamber, and it was stuffed with hardened sticks, logs, pieces of furniture, tables and chairs. It was like an uncomfortable nest that had been swallowed and undigested into this space. Who knows how long it had been sitting there – these things I’d taken in that had never nourished me at all. How could they? 

Things to fill a space that I couldn’t absorb for nourishment. 

The Grandmothers and I removed each piece, one by one, until my internal chamber was just Earth again. And then the biome properly reestablished itself as Earth and dirt into this space once again. 

After that I could breathe more deeply. 

As I began to stir, the cats knew that meant it was time for their breakfast. And so I went and stood beside the cat, so she could eat in peace, and know that she is not alone.

**You are also not alone. We need one another on our journeys of reclamation and soul. Reach out for 1:1 support and multidimensional healing today.

It’s okay to heal slowly.

I’ve been in dark nights of the soul before, sort of slashing my way through the dark. But this was tender, like walking myself forward by candlelight and love. 

Hello love, 

Have you ever felt that pressure to get it together when you’ve come undone? Have you felt the pressure to not be a mess when you just are? 

Or how about the pressure to go out and make money when really, you’re just not okay on the inside and you need time to heal? 

Where does this pressure come from? As I ponder it, it’s so bonkers (I love that word.) 

It’s bonkers because it’s the pace of the outer world, the world that humans have created that goes oh-so-fast, that doesn’t let you take a dang minute when you really need one. Which is traumatizing in and of itself. 

Last year, I took time to heal. It wasn’t productive, or lucrative, or super clean. It was caterpillar-turn-to-mush messy. I didn’t know what the result would be. I took time to get off the high-speed train of life (which for me, included a lot of old patterns of hyperarousal and fight/flight even as someone who “understood” this) and to heal something deep within me.

What was I healing? Well, I’ll tell you, at the risk that you’ll stop reading right here. But that’s the risk, isn’t it? Can we be with what is real in order to truly acknowledge and heal it? I was healing a mixture of deep loneliness and finding my personal lovability. It was triggered when, after I’d been so diligent about healing my sexual abuse trauma for so long, I experienced family rejection and a breakup that triggered the old sexual trauma all at the same time. I was also taking care of myself after finding out huge interdimensional intel on soul-level attacks I’d endured throughout my life. Someone recently called this Complex Sexual Trauma (like, including the invisible multidimensional f*ckery). Well, I’ve had it, and it became too much for this female-bodied light worker on a mission to handle for a while.

Also, I needed to go through this to help other women heal in the ways few are talking about. I was walking an embodied piece of Heartland alchemy. 

And it’s been about a year of going down and through this in order to come out the other side. That’s the slowest, sweetest healing I’ve ever done. I know the rest of my life will be so much better for it. And I know that it has changed the way I show up for myself, and embodied a new softness now within me. 

We like to throw around concepts like, “The feminine should be soft and receptive.” Well, in this world, that takes a lot of actual healing in order to happen, not pressure. 

This week I was thinking about the gift of giving yourself time for healing, and I put this message on social media – It’s okay to heal slowly, and if you’re healing slowly, it probably means you’re actually healing. Apparently others needed to hear it too, and I really respect that we can openly say this now. Many expressed gratitude for the message.

We are humans that have endured quite a bit of separation – I call these various events and societal circumstances “traumas of separation.” These traumas hurt the heart, they are held in the body, the soma, and they need to be met with tenderness and love. 

I’ve also been thinking about how sometimes I find myself judging the word “healing.” So I bet I’m not the only one who does that, too. Like “healing” isn’t as “woke” as “ascending” or something. So funny. 

I’ve always been this edge-walker who doesn’t really fit into boxes, and I’ve been this spiritual “coach” who is also really willing to acknowledge trauma as a part of the spiritual path. Healing trauma is a part of the spiritual path. How could it not be? You have to un-burden the effects of trauma to realize your God-nature. Anything else is bypassing and glossing over what’s hard, in my opinion. 

If trauma lives in the body, and it does, and we are spiritual beings in bodies, then how in the world are you going to deny an embodied trauma or stuck energy and just say, “Spritually, I’m great!” This is cutting the body, the feminine, off from the head, the masculine, and I’ve just never been game for participating in that. 

And so, healing is spiritual and not at all shameful. Also, if you are a womb-holder on this planet, you have likely experienced trauma, and we need to be talking more about those invisible assaults on the womb because this is what is keeping women impoverished. 

But literally, I’ve been interviewed on spiritual podcasts and because I talked about healing sexual trauma, the podcast was given a trigger warning. 

I don’t want to be a walking trigger warning at all, but I want to acknowledge what others may want to avoid, because I know the time and toll that these issues have taken on my life. 

The complexities that we have endured need time and space to heal, which is alchemy. True healing is alchemy. And by “taking time to heal” by no means do I mean “sitting around while I hope things heal.” Healing is active, too. It is diligent self care, it is energy clearing, learning about what’s really been going on, it is physical care, it is seeking support. It is being committed to healing the trauma truly, through and through, not identifying as a victim and staying in the trauma. 

This last year was truly a daily devotional practice to my true essence and to deep self-love. That’s it. So every day, that looked like doing my kundalini yoga, being on my Sacred Remembering path, taking the actions I heard Spirit tell me to take, keeping the faith, sleeping well, eating right, on and on, even when I did not know if that would be how I felt every day for the rest of my life. 

I’ve been in dark nights of the soul before, sort of slashing my way through the dark. But this was tender, like walking myself forward by candlelight and love. 

That devotion, gratefully, is bringing me through the “up and out” of this process. I can’t say it’s over, nor maybe ever, since I’m always willing to do the good work of transformation. 

For the past three years, I’ve offered Heartland every spring. But this year, spring came, and the energy wasn’t right because of where I was personally. I resisted and thought, “No! It’s always a spring 8 week event!” But that wasn’t happening. 

Also for about a year now, I’ve wanted to offer Heartland as an 8 MONTH experience. Heartland has 8 topics or components. And Heartland is about a New Earth experience of the feminine where we get to heal the ley lines of our lives in tandem with the Earth, heal our bodies and wombs of these traumas, and it has “code” for what life beyond the patriarchal traumas of separation feels like. So, in 8 weeks, you get the code. The activation.

But in 8 months, we can go slowly. We can heal, experience authentic transformation, and feel it down to our cells and bones, down to the way our feet touch this Earth. 

I am so, so grateful (tears actually welling in my eyes in this moment) to be here. Exactly here, with you, now. At this time on Earth, in our need for deep healing, in the amazing capacity for true and authentic transformation. The Heaven On Earth level embodiment. 

This year, we alchemize. We step into the Heartland for 8 full months and allow it to work us slowly, easefully, truly. And, we will emerge in the Spring! 

Beloveds, thank you for being the ones who open these emails, read to the end, and allow me to show up authentically as an imperfect woman with a big heart and true gifts. I want to do more to help us re-write our expectations of women, healing, performance culture, and what it looks like for us to stand in our truth. I try to model it and I will be doing that more and more as my desire to write returns. 

Thank you for your patience as Heartland prepared me for the beautiful journey that a group of us is about to take. Yes, it is a healing journey, and yes, it is also woke AF. 😉 

You can now learn more about this 8-month journey into the Heartland here: https://www.sarahpoet.com/heartland 

In love,

Sarah

Write like an elephant.

The invitation was to tell the story, to tell it in as many different ways as it wants to be told.

I moved houses again recently, and in the process decided I would no longer have a storage unit. I asked the movers to bring all that old, extra stuff into my living room and I spent a day going through it.

I found two elephants. One I remember from my childhood and another clay elephant I’d bought at a craft show years ago that promised to signify abundance.

I asked my mother, who I’d just recently reconnected with, if the older elephant had been hers. She didn’t remember it and that’s okay.

These elephants tugged at the mystic in me. Why two in a row? Why were they showing up now and why was I feeling this connection to my mother through this elephant she didn’t even remember? I sat them in my bedroom on the shelf that is my altar of sacred things, but my altar wouldn’t flush out with my usual sacred items for a few more weeks. It felt like the message in this last move was, “Just clear. Just allow things to settle before filling anything back in. Have blank space.”

If I’m being real – with myself, with you, with anyone at all – to be honest I had just moved twice because I was playing small. I was. I took a job to help “start a community” and it was such a sham, but I let myself get into that situation and also, there was so much soul material in that experience that I really needed to integrate.

This is the Sacred Remembering path – it’s mystical, messy, full of real life “initiation” and the potential to reflect and grow. Thankfully, life seems to be reflecting to me that there is a new steadiness and pace in my journey. Maybe like the swagger of an elephant.

But try explaining this to my fourteen year old who thinks his mother is providing him with an unstable upbringing… that’s another story.

It was all a divine reroute, let’s say that. On that reroute, one day I felt the “ping” (intuition) to drive to Pennsylvania and knock on my parents’ door. I knew that my mother wasn’t there and my father likely was. I hadn’t spoken to him in nearly five years, and my mother barely at all. I had been so scared of my father growing up, this deep imprint of fear inside of me that went down into spaces unknown and here I was at a space and time in my life when I just knew that something in me had been running from that fear, landing me in shitty situations, and I just turned around and faced it. My soul was letting me know that it was done, and I was to drive ten hours, knock on his door, and literally just face it. So I did that.

What happened? Well, we spent about five minutes together and in those five minutes, and in front of my teenage son, I heard the two things from my father that I think my girl/woman self never before wanted to hear. One, that I wasn’t his daughter anymore. And two, a denial that he had ever been my perpetrator. Something I’d finally named publicly to the family at the age of 40.

Those things sound huge, but to me at this point in my healing and life journey, they were just words. I had turned to face the things I’d run from – rejection and denial – and then I heard them, and I was still who I am. It was so beautiful. It was such a gift that my soul had “pinged” me to go and do that, so that I could experience that feeling of freedom.

And then after that we saw my grandmother and got in the car and drove ten hours back home.

Two weeks later I moved into a clean-slate apartment. My mother co-signed because my credit is shit. In all the times before, I would have stopped myself from admitting that, but if I’m going to write like an elephant, I can’t stop myself anymore.

My credit is shit because I have decades of struggle with money and finance, which links to deep childhood trauma, every kind of emotional manipulation and abuse, and then being a single mom trying to be a spiritual entrepreneur, which was going pretty well until 2022 when I called out family secrecy and somehow had a flair up of rape trauma and loneliness that resulted in a cocktail of circumstances. Including, obviously, taking a “job” to start a “community” that wasn’t even a real thing.

I’m not a victim. To any of it. I’m just naming what it all is – and it’s all got a soupy quality to it….

But what I’m getting at is that my family all the while has no idea the work I’m actually doing – to ensure no more children are hurt, to heal the lineage of reptilian bloodlines, to clear the earth grids – those are the unmentionables. But I haven’t even told them anything about anything in five years because when I became this spiritual entrepreneur, obviously a part of me was extricating myself from the family system of silence and dysfunction. And I just felt I couldn’t have a family anymore if I took this path, given the nature of my family.

Uuuuggghhhhh, I’m sick of writing about this shit and also feel like I haven’t even begun if I’m going to truly write like an elephant.

So back to the elephants.

I got curious about it. It’s now week-four of living in this new place, I’ve listened to the voice of Spirit (Soul, Source – the voice) tell me to get back to my life’s mission work. To reestablish Sacred Remembering in the community and the podcast offerings. To lay a new groundwork. Okay, I did that. The new podcast intro is out for edits and thank God my executive functioning is coming back online after about a year of f*ckery. (My friend Keely, side note, recently joked with me as I told her that my brain was coming back online from my trauma and she said something like – great, just in time for natural degeneration. Yeah. Nothing like being 42 and needing your mom to co-sign for your apartment.) Voice of shame! Keep going! Write like an elephant!

I looked up elephant medicine. As in, what is the spiritual significance of these elephants showing up in my life? I saw a few things. Elephants symbolize nurturance, deep feminine essence and maternal nature, steadiness, abundance, and it is the destroyer of obstacles. It is also known to steer you in the right direction. One book said, “Trust this gentle, noble creature… it illuminates the way with the light of self-knowledge.”

At this time, other divine “pings” have included:

  • Get off social media for a week (that was amazing)
  • For the love of all things holy, stop looking at people’s reactions on social media (a forever habit)
  • Stay focused. There’s this sweet, “Tunnel vision” sort of feeling that God’s got me, like “Woman, if you stay in your lane right now and just listen to me, steady on, we’re going to bring this new part through together.” Very elephant-like, come to think of it.
  • Write. Write creatively, write your books, write.

And I’ve been listening! I have been non-traumatized, empowered, faithful, grateful, in the light… “I’m back!” Really, though, I have totally rocked this “get back on track in a new way” period of time I’ve been in. It’s so refreshing.

So then I hear Spirit say after yoga one morning this week, “Write a letter to your mom and tell her what you do.” This was coming from something she had said weeks ago in one of those conversations my inner child never wants to hear where she’s telling me that I might just need to go get a school job. I heard her say, “I don’t know what you even do, but maybe you need a job.”

I understand that this is her coming from what she knows, and a generation that sacrificed a lot of true desire for steadiness. I’m not opposed to working or steadying myself and my child with a “job” of some kind, but I’d always rather my soul work carry us, which could look like long-term contract work, consulting, project management, or these various things I feel coming.

And I realized I was still holding this fear that related to the family split from five years ago that said something like, “Maybe your own work won’t carry you, and you’ll need to go back and get a job.” Key words: go back. If you’re afraid to not have to “go back” to something, you run away from it. So I was doing a bit of that the entire time.

So the voice said, “Well, tell her what you do.”

I wrote her an email that was like a spiritual coming-out. I wrote down the kinds of things that I get paid for that she may not be able to even fathom. I acknowledged my healing capacities, told her I talk to ancestors including her father, help women heal sexual trauma, help couples, on and on.

I gave myself full credit in the most gorgeous way. I had never even given myself this acknowledgement before. It was like another “turn and face it” moment. In my early entrepreneurial years, I was always wondering who was looking, who would approve. If I was running from disapproval and rejection, then if I was going out on my own to build this coaching business, I sure as heck needed to receive those things from the business. But guess what? I wasn’t allowed to pull that kind of shit and have it work out. 😉

After I wrote the list to my mother, I had a good cathartic cry. I went into the woods with my dog and I noticed that my breath and heartspace were very, very relaxed. Hmm. Healing.

Last night before I went to sleep, Spirit reminded me, “Get that ornament that your mother gave you out of that box.” The ornament was shipped in a Christmas box in late 2018. We didn’t have much of a relationship then either, in part because I truly felt like I had had to be silent for so long about abuse in order to have a family, and then I decided not to be silent, and my mother stayed in her marriage to my father. But she sent this ornament and it was a decoupaged heart with glitter and glass and said, “Your story matters.”

Your story matters. Encouraged by my mother.

So this morning, early before the sunrise, I went to the box in the other room and got out the ornament. I set it on the (now full) altar, beside the elephants, and began to journal.

I just want to say – that feeling, the one where we listen to the voice of Spirit which is really the voice of US – it’s a great feeling. Kind of the best. And, the very voice that trauma interrupts us from listening to because we frenetically think we have to be doing something else, or we’re just fighting like hell for our brain to hang with us in task and clarity throughout the day.

So I’m journaling, about elephants and this letter to my mother and spirit telling me to write… and I realize… I need to write like an elephant.

That’s why things have been stuck.

The way through obstacles, for me, is to write.

To tell the stories that I haven’t known how to tell. To tell them even though every flippin time I do, I think someone judges me for being weak. Or they thank me for my vulnerability and I think, “Does that mean you think I’m weak!?” And then I want to tell you all the shit I have figured out, I’m on the other side and strong and there’s a happy ending, and I try to write a blog or social media post about something I’m smart about, and then I look, and guess what, no one has read it.

Because that wasn’t the invitation. The invitation was to tell the story, to tell it in as many different ways as it wants to be told. And yes, it might be a bit messy at first, because I’ve got a backlog inside of me. But maybe if I write like an elephant, I can make some art out of it all.

So, here I am. Steady on. Channeling my inner elephant.

If you are a woman on a path of remembering who you truly are, simultaneously healing and ever-evolving while you stand in your present-moment truth, you may enjoy the Sacred Remembering Community for support, solidarity, and the Sacred. Learn more here: https://sacred-remembering-community.mn.co/

Thanks for reading. If you choose to comment, I’d love to hear how this piece impacted you, your process, your day, your sensations. You.

Thank you.

Fierceness is required: embracing strength through love.

Also, simultaneously a few weeks ago, my friend Lisa sent me a picture in a text message and let me know that she felt guided to set up a place for me on her prayer altar. In the center of this prayer altar was a picture of me.

Journal Prompts to consider before, during, or after reading this blog:

  • Where in your life are you feeling like you need to fight for something? Is it exhausting or energizing you?
  • What is the difference, for you, between sacred fierceness and fighting?
  • How do these two feel different in your body? In your breath?
  • How do you want to embody your sacred fierceness more in your life right now?

A few weeks ago, I was talking to my friend Betsy and I said, “Betsy, I do not want to have to be the warrior anymore.”

You can hear the exhaustion in that statement.

Well, I believe, because I experience, that there is always a divine dance of Creation going on. A sacred unfolding.

In that statement of mine, there was exhaustion, but there was also a little stuckness. I had tired of being a warrior along the way….

Also, simultaneously a few weeks ago, my friend Lisa sent me a picture in a text message and let me know that she felt guided to set up a place for me on her prayer altar. I was surprised because we hadn’t talked about an exact thing that would have prompted this, but I wasn’t surprised because I know that Lisa is always listening to the divine and if she felt to do it, there was a reason why.

Lisa is a friend that continually makes magic and I truly love to notice and weave the Mystery with her.

In the center of this prayer altar was a picture of me. The layout of everything on the altar was astonishingly beautiful and thoughtful, but the picture surprised me because it was an old photo that I’d had on the back of my first business cards. She’s had this for years.

The photo, I realized in that moment but also more deeply throughout the next few weeks (that’s what I mean by “weaving”), was historically very significant to me because it was the first time that I “saw myself.”

I had gone in for professional headshots, and the photographer nudged me to take off my sweater and do a few shots in my flimsy old tank top, that truly I felt at home in.

The photo, when I saw it, still a school principal at that time, was strength. It was me. It was the me, underneath, that I felt but that I didn’t always know how to express, and here it was embodied.

And then, that was the photo that showed up from Lisa. A reminder.

And then I said, “Betsy, I don’t want to have to be the warrior anymore.”

Well, then a few weeks went by, things happened, and I did an 11 day spiritual practice that truly helped to regain so much life force, and then as I cleared energy, of course this affected things in outer relationships (as it always goes.)

And as I was witnessing an old pattern arising related to men & masculine, I noticed I felt different. I told Betsy, “I felt fear for a minute, but then I felt strength.”

The strength was different. It wasn’t a fighting strength. Younger-me had a lot of fighting strength, and then that was lost, or rather, let go. I grew tired of always being resilient. But (and I’ve written about this elsewhere), that was okay. Because fighting strength requires the nervous system, and one day that will tap out. True strength and resiliency comes from a different place. Turns out I’ve been cultivating it for some time, but am just realizing it.

Last year, I went deep deep down into the space of my own heart. I got so familiar with the aches and beauty, and I came to know love differently.

As it turns out, from that place is also where strength returns.

I was sitting in prayer this morning, and I asked, “Divine Shekhinah, what do I need to know right now?”

And in dropped the message, “The Sacred Warrior in you is a part of your divinity. It is sacred. Feel it now.”

And I sat with that message, the frequency of the Sacred Warrior, with the picture from years ago, the realization that Lisa had helped to evoke this via her prayer altar, and a part of me consciously returned.

Fierceness is required. Sacred Fierceness and the Warrior come through the space of the Heart, and can be trusted. Some things are worth standing for, worth being fierce over.

My path requires fierceness. I am here to disrupt common narratives and repattern aspects of patriarchy. I am here to introduce new information and tell stories. To be me and live my purpose requires the Sacred Warrior.

I am grateful to re-incorporate this, to walk in integrity with this divine energy, to the weaving, to the Mystery, to true sacred sisters Betsy, Lisa and more. I am grateful to look, once again, at this picture and see a true essence, and welcome it.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

― Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections on the Principles of “A Course in Miracles”

Photo credit https://www.heatherhamborphotography.com/

Saying the “R Word” triggered an old trauma. This is a soul story of choosing Unity over separation.

Acknowledging the truth of a trauma ultimately allows us to integrate more into our own wholeness. But the real-life path of this is messy. Trust me, I know.

It’s been a year since I said the R-word. I remember because today is 2/22 and I sent the letter right before this date last year, because I was going to the beach the weekend of 2/22 and I wanted it to be sent before the three days I’d spend beside the ocean. 

I hadn’t ever thought of it as the R-word. I’d said, “childhood abuse” and “sexual trauma” for years, but not the R-word. 

Once last year, a counselor and healer I’ve seen for fifteen years was talking to me about the work I do and is my purpose to do in the world, and she was saying how I take all these life experiences and alchemize them into something to offer for others. And she said encouragingly, “You’re not meant to talk directly about incest, you’re meant to talk about love and all the things you’ve found on the other side.”

I hadn’t ever said “incest” either. 

But then my sister got pregnant in 2021, with this baby that actually came to me three months before she was even pregnant, and it had said, “I’m coming, you have to tell her.” Yes, I’m talking about hearing from the Soul of the baby before it had incarnated. I heard it loud and clear, but I hadn’t spoken to my sister in a long time – nor my other sister or parents, and I waited to take action, wondering what exactly to do. Then, six months later, I found out that she was three months pregnant. I had stalled, and now it was time. 

I’d asked to speak with her, but likely knowing what it was about, she declined. I pressed  a bit, said I had to, and she drew a boundary. 

I started to panic, actually having the first panic attacks in years. In my apartment, I have a meditation cushion inside a walk-in closet and one day I was in there just panting and praying, “What to do?!” and the voice said, “Well, let’s start with breathing.” 

I was panicking because I couldn’t keep this child safe if she wouldn’t listen to me. And it was coming from the same deep-down knowing that came without words for all those years as a child that I wasn’t safe, and then the first years of my son’s life when I would keep him away from my father at all costs, because that was my instinct, but not ever directly saying why. The family just went on pretending like nothing was ever, nor had ever been, wrong, and that was why it had been such a mind fuck for decades about whether or not I was going to even believe myself. But why would your full and basic instinct be, “Keep the children away from your father” if that instinct wasn’t warranted? Don’t anyone dare try to negate or explain away that rhetorical question. 

There was a fierceness that arose after the panic attack in the closet. If I had to drive ten hours and knock on her door, I’d do it. I was going to do whatever was needed. But then, I was in a session with a practitioner about what was happening, and afterward I knew what I needed to do. I didn’t need to drive to her house, I needed to expose this. It was almost a blessing that she wouldn’t listen, because if she had, then this silenced, festering thing would just stay among two women and still be protected. I had to expose the truth the whole way. 

It was a knowing, a deep-down, clear as day knowing, the feeling I get when there is not another way forward. 

I’d known since I was fifteen that something had happened to me. When I had my first boyfriend, memories came back, and clearly. But I don’t remember what exactly they were, because when I confided in my mother at that time, she told me not to be silly. I remember the day. It was summer time and she was driving and I remember her stoic face, looking forward focused on the road, telling me not to be silly. To say it more clearly, I told her that my father had sexually abused me, and her response was, “Don’t be silly.” 

And so I spent about fifteen years trying not to be silly. 

My mother says she doesn’t remember me ever telling her that. This is called “dissociation” and my mother has it. Big time. Because in the years that I’ve been uncovering and honoring the truth of what had happened to me and to my family back through the generations, for the purpose of healing, I have tried to sit and talk to my mother. I’ve asked her to sit on Zoom so that I could see her eyes and expression as I asked her questions. She denied ever knowing, or ever remembering me telling her, and yet, when I finally said the R-word, nothing changed then either. 

This showed me that I was right all along. It’s an incredible thing to try to reconcile or even wrap one’s head around – that your mother may have known and didn’t protect you. That you were somehow her sacrificial lamb. It’s almost impossible to fathom, and I’ve been grateful to women like Eve Ensler over the years who named such choices of some mothers – to ignore the thing that would have to tear a family apart if acknowledged, in order to secure one’s own resources by acting as if nothing had ever happened. “Don’t be silly,” she’d said, as she discounted the thing she didn’t want to look at. 

I spent my twenties in a codependent relationship with one man, which was a way my psyche sought safety because both he and I knew that I’d been abused, but within the relationship, we could deal with it. I spent my thirties reclaiming my body from trauma patterns, reclaiming the truth and my power, reclaiming the health of the gut with “inexplicable” lifelong stomach pains and trouble digesting. Reclaiming, reclaiming, reclaiming.  I had the worst digestive issues when intimacy with a new man would become a possibility. I learned to identify how I was overriding trauma symptoms and entering relationships with men too quickly, and I learned how and why I was attracted to men who seemed to love me but then would discard of me – not surprising since my father stopped talking to me long before I said the R-word, but when I stopped taking his money and removed myself from the power dynamics. 

When I gave my TEDx and started telling even a little bit of the truth that had been kept behind the curtain, I lost contact with them more and more. I always had the sense that owning the truth would mean losing them. It did, and I knew I had to keep choosing my path. I also knew that to exist within the family unit meant to participate in a great pretending. I instinctively knew this, but I had no idea how right I was. 

I spent years reclaiming my ability to tell my own truth, and to even use my voice, as it had been stuck in my throat for so many years. I spent over a decade in various therapies trying to figure out my trauma-ridden brain and its sense of enoughness, lovability, worthiness, and just where all of the tendrils of coercion and abuse had reached. It was an extensive search. And a maddening one. Eventually this coincided with a rich spiritual, sacred journey as well. 

In 2020, I wrote and delivered an original monologue for the classic Vagina Monologues V-Day event on two stages in Asheville about the sins of the Father (double entendre) and the hidden abuses in the church. Because the R-action had actually occurred at least once in a church. IN the church. I was under five, and he broke me, on purpose. Very much on purpose. 

He was raised in a satanic cult as a child. No one in my family talks about this, nor do they really know – another reason I’ve stayed kind-of quiet. My deep spiritual journey whereupon I asked questions such as “Why does patriarchy and separation even exist in the first place?” had lead me to actually discover the truth of the S R A in 2019. History explained through good vs. evil and the systemic mechanisms of keeping people away from unity and a unified Source – the S R A has been very instrumental in that. 

And then I found out that it had infiltrated my family lineage, and that my father had been affected very, very directly and personally. Isn’t it amazing how life just lines up the pieces for you to discover the truth of who you really are? I had been healing trauma for over seven years at that point and was living a life committed to the journey of the soul when I found this out. In the beginning, I wouldn’t have been equipped to handle the news. In fact, I spent about a year even integrating what this even meant. It explained so much, and yet, now I knew the tendrils went much, much deeper. Because if he had been raised in a cult, then he had also raised me with cult-like mind control and tendencies of coercion, abuse, and soul-breaking. I knew a lot about trauma at that point and began trying to wrap my head around the potential effects of intergenerational trauma from cult abuse, let alone sa ta nic rit ual cult abuse. Most people dismiss that this even exists, because it is so hard to accept and because it involves far more people and people in power than anyone wants you to know, and I found one psychiatric doctor who validates patients who have these stories. He was too busy to talk with me about my intergenerational curiosities. 

I was raised by a man who was raised in the most horrific circumstances, who witnessed brutal, indescribable things. The worst of human behavior. They broke him. And he never had the therapies, the trauma interventions, the parenting classes, or anything that would prevent him from passing on what he had learned, and from using the cult tactics on his family. He’d married a teacher and I was their first born daughter. He had the devil inside of him and I know he wanted to do well also, because he spent a lot of time in church, gave a lot of money to charity, and tried to give us a good and prosperous life. So we didn’t talk about the devilish parts, because my mother wanted the white house on the suburban street with the photos of a normal family in frames in the stairwell. So she kept it looking good and we didn’t talk about his episodes. In the same “don’t be silly” strategy, she’d go on serving dinner if there had just been a fight or if he had disappeared again and she didn’t know where her husband was.

My body was always confused about what it felt and sensed, the inexplicable fears and digestive issues, the fierce rebellion I felt. And as an adult, I spent many years breaking free – slowly at first, and then fiercely as if my life depended on it, and then, just when I thought I was pretty regulated about it all, this letter had to be written and that sent an unexpected fire alarm to my brain. Fuck if it doesn’t take so much longer to heal than you think it will. Even after years of reclamation, and teaching other women to reclaim their voice and truth from patriarchal traumas and silence, I wasn’t exempt from a deeply embedded trauma reaction, probably in response to a deep threat made long ago about what might happen if I ever told. No doubt, and I remember many such incidents now, it was a threat on my life. 

I sent the letter it to everyone in my family my generation and above. I sent it to the parents of the daughter I’d placed for adoption at birth. I said, “He raped me.” I said, “I believe she knew about it.” I said, “Do not leave children in their presence.” I did not feel fear when I sent it, I felt clarity. I knew it had to be done, and I would do it a thousand times over so that the lineage of secrecy and child abuse stop. And it did. It feels a bit, in hindsight, like willingly stepping in front of a train that has been picking up cargo and momentum for a very long time. Thankfully, I suppose I was strong enough at that point to not even realize the personal risk. That train just had to stop. 

My aunt wrote me a card with hand-drawn heart balloons that said how sorry she was that she hadn’t known and didn’t protect me as a child. I heard from my cousin, “My mom believes you….” and then the trailing off of that sentence made me realize that others didn’t. 

Oh. Well, I suppose denial is a strategy that’s been at play for a long time, so I wasn’t necessarily surprised that they just “opted out” of believing me. I’m not necessarily offended by this, but I also have no time or tolerance for it. Some never reached out at all. 

The letter did elicit a reply from my sister and we scheduled a phone call. While she wouldn’t directly talk about it, I was able to ask her a series of yes/no questions such that I finally understood that she understood me, and that this child would be protected. That’s all I cared about. This was the first grandchild born into the family since my son thirteen years prior. I’d protected my children but I wasn’t going to be there to directly ensure the safety of my niece or nephew. 

But then interesting things happened. The sex I was having with a partner began to feel rammy at best. I didn’t feel his heart and I felt a lot of his anxiety in the sex. Because he struggled with erectile dysfunction, I tried to be loving and kind, and yet the sex was not connected enough for me. I tried to work with him through it – always the coach, always the one to see some soul-potential and hope they walk through that door, always the one to give too much or stay too long. (Former habits, I’m now happy to say.) Eventually he stopped trying to find access to his heart by ramming himself into my vagina and he left. Not great timing in the grand scheme of things. Ram-ram-goodbye as a pattern was a significant trigger for me, and it contributed toward a… well, a breakage of sorts. A deep heartbreak occurred from it all. It was all too much. 

My family was so far gone. I still haven’t met my nephew. My other sister is pretty much best friends with my parents, and no one acts like I ever said rape. My grandmother served him Thanksgiving dinner and my mother sat beside him, which I was surprised to find was another hit to my heart. I didn’t know that I’d care about the added layers of loss and I didn’t see them coming. 

I had always been the strong one. I was resilient, strong, ran on adrenaline when I had to. In my years of deep reclamation that felt like survival and liberation both, I got a lot of black tattoos. At first, I got big black flowers on my shoulder blades and around my shoulders, and then realized that I’d subconsciously given myself self-protective armor. So I got more tattoos down my arms so it didn’t look so much like armor, but I did look like a badass. I was frequently called a badass. 

People have told me things like: they assume I’m always fine, they assume I am always able to make money, they assume I don’t need anything because I don’t ask, that I’m always strong. Because that’s how I learned to be. I learned from my mother to pretend like everything was under control even when it wasn’t. I’m writing these things in retrospect, as I realized them while looking in a really authentic mirror this year. 

This year, amidst all of this, the most beautiful things also happened. I went so deeply into the gaping hole of unlovability that I felt – a foundation that had been set long ago – and there I sat, not self-abandoning. My friend Audrey recognized where I was and sent me homeopathic potions and love notes for support. I did the emotional freedom technique, hiked in the woods in the mornings with my dog, treated my body with care, and increased my nutrition – every day. I did parasite cleanses, enemas, kundalini yoga, EMDR, energy healing and more. These are a few of my favorite things to get free of abuse frequencies and lingering wtf cult mind control programming. 

I aligned with Source. I partnered with the Divine. I healed with the Earth and with the earth grids. I lived Heartland – this work that I began calling “my dharma” during this time. I was pissed I wasn’t finishing writing a book and it felt like an eight-month set back in the journey. Of course it wasn’t. 

I deeply cared for myself differently than I ever had. I wasn’t surviving anymore. I was loving myself and wanting to know how I felt truly free and beyond what had been. I stopped being defined – energetically and otherwise – as the one who this had happened to. It was done. 

I found myself in an uncharted place – the territory of my true heart. It was messy and pure. I took down the guards and learned more deeply how to have clarity about what gets my resources without having to defend myself. As a result of childhood abuse, including emotional and though it’s an overused word, narcissistic abuse, I had a habit of giving myself to things in hopes that I’d be valued after the fact. This resulted in habits of over-giving or what I call “giving to get” which are both unsustainable and inauthentic. I believe I have learned authentic love, and what do you know, straight through the authentic portal of my own heart as the pathway to God. 

During this time, my business both financially failed and there was a wisdom to allow it to disassemble its previous structure in order to be rebuilt on different energetics. Even though I have had (before this year?) a knack for holding things together and making it look like I was successful, after the letter and the rammy sex trigger, my money stopped flowing. Spiritual people say, “You’ll always have what you need.” Well, I didn’t. And I also couldn’t push myself to “sell” anything anymore because I just wanted to do things authentically, with people who wanted the same. So I let go. There are different energetics at play regarding money when you have had this kind of trauma, which I now understand better and am devoted to helping women get free. Rape trauma, combined with psychological trauma around safety and money, is a different beast that is not going to be easily overcome with positive thoughts or affirmations. It is way, way more than that and getting through it, I have found, requires focus and devotion. I couldn’t beat this before when I’d tried toughness or resiliency or manifestation techniques or spirituality alone. It has required a daily grit inside of a daily love inside of a daily faith. This I will share in Heartland – we have to be able to clear the residual trauma energetics that steal our life force and make it difficult to secure or hold money, and we get to be prosperous in our own Source-Alignment. Our Soul is enough. In fact, it’s so powerful that that is why we were harmed to begin with – to make us forget. 

My father had used money to manipulate my compliance in more fucked-up ways than I can even figure out, and so my psyche never wanted to need help, but this past year I did. I had the opportunity to really undo patterns of both believing I needed the rescue while simultaneously fearing it, learning that to receive help was safe, and doing the soul work of trusting that my business, finances and psyche were all likely perfectly reorganizing themselves in tandem with the divine. But it was a mess and I had to face the fears I thought were long-past about having enough and being supported. Hint: it comes from within. The more aligned I am to my authentic frequency, sacredness, creativity and soul, the more fulfilling and resourced it all gets. 

The other thing that happened was that I became far more loving and graceful, and this continues. My business became a ministry. My membership stopped being an aspect of a sales funnel and instead a joyful community with growing purpose and cohesion. I stopped sharing unless I really had something to say. I started creating again – like, real, soul-activating, right brain electrifying, eros-derived creativity. I’m still diving into that, most recently with a frame drum. On all those walks in the woods, I was more and more deeply activated into gridwork, earth relationship, my divine sight, and how the fucked up earthly circumstances are all part of the bigger invitation to return to love. I deeply realized the human need for belonging, on the other side of all of that fierce independence, leadership and resiliency. I need connection and belonging. I need it still. 

I have known for years that I was walking a “soul journey” that I was then meant to share back, but I took a break in that. I didn’t know if I was done or broken or unmoved or what, but I honored the time to go inward and had no idea when or if I’d come out. And what I want to say about this space is that it is a holy mess. It is a holy becoming, like a caterpillar in a chrysalis, at the risk of sounding cliche. I’ve known that I’m on this walk that quests, “What does Union actually look like in this lifetime?” and yet, actually exiting the matrix reality of “I was violated by my father and it didn’t stop there” is a wild ride in the lived experience. It is a story of separation, for certain. I call finding our way through these 3D “realities” in a separation matrix and then allowing ourselves to choose love, to be who we landed on earth to become, the Sacred Remembering path. 

Maybe it was the reality of losing family seemingly once and for all last year, or maybe it was a little invisible string in my brain, implanted long ago by an old, satanic threat, that got pulled when I spoke out that said, “If you say this, you will be killed and the people you love will be killed.” Maybe it was the pattern of abandonment showing up again from men. I didn’t realize what had happened as it was happening, but my brain just got stuck.  I just did the best I could do to love myself in the day to day. 

And then Spirit pulled me forward. My friend Lisa began walking beside me daily on the spiritual path helping to activate me toward strength and an integrated high-heart and monad. My kundalini yoga practice became a daily practice as I watched my brain changing for the better, clearing the fog and patterning of mind control. At the turn of this year, my soul said, “Enough EMDR, enough therapy and trying to figure it out, look forward.” Special miracles happened. I heard Spirit say, “It is done.” I heard the guidance, “Go beyond your Earthly parents and realize that you are a child of the Divine.” When I said yes to that, I realized something new called the Holy Daughter Template, which is more divine information about the feminine beyond patriarchy and what this actually feels like. 

So why am I writing this? 

Well, it’s 2/22 and something in me said to do it. I realized that I subconsciously pulled the red shirt out of my closet that I’d worn for our Sovereign Womb Ceremony on 2/22/22 where over 80 women and men joined for the remembrance of the sovereign feminine before the Fall of Lyra – before separation. I’d sent the letter right before that ceremony, and then something in me committed as I led the ceremony, and as I stood on the beach in the following days, something in me knew to open Heartland again for a group of women, which I did. 

Spirit’s always there. 

The soul is always trying to integrate truth, light, and wholeness. 

Life is always life and then it is so much more. 

Was there a turning point? If I had to say that there was one, it was realizing (again) that what the destroyer energy of domination, patriarchy, and control does is to interrupt love, to try to destroy it, and to separate union. It is the greatest pain I can imagine, and I’ve felt it very deeply in this lifetime and countless others. My heart has been working some deep, deep alchemy in recent years to heal the pain of separation. To say that it’s hard sometimes is an understatement. 

To be resilient in the nervous system is not enough. It is not enough to fight these forces of separation, and to fight them only exhausts you.  It requires an epic re-connection to Source, a re-devotion of the entire soul, and to source strength from Source. Otherwise, and I know from experience, one will be knocked down, again and again, in an attempt to stop Union from happening. I don’t doubt that they especially seek to attack those who carry the light of the Christos Sophia, those of us on the Unity team. It is absolutely true, and we have to be strong through Union, through Source. 

To name the truth to keep the next generation of children safe (and yes the lineage lines were cleared, and yes it was worth it), I ended up experiencing more separation than I’d ever known to expect. With the end of another relationship that borderline triggered my sexual trauma and all the way triggered the pain of unlovability, I got to alchemize the pain and know the heart and love in a new and reclaimed way, and to know the Beloved beyond form.  

And then I realized – the pain of separation is how the bad guys win. It’s their whole, cowardly gig. And so I choose love. I choose to move beyond the energetics of separation, and I choose to remember the frequency of pure love and try to live inside the integrity of that as many moments of the day as I can remember to do so. More and more, I touch the spaces beyond separation. My gut is healing another layer of tension that I recently discovered. My mood and my blood sugar don’t tank anymore. I’m calmer. I don’t get as caught up in triggers and I re-Source back to the Divine.  My nervous system is pretty regulated thanks to Kundalini yoga. My mind is strong and beyond gads and gads of mental programming that I didn’t even see until I was ready to go beyond it. 

I will never again feel shame or silence about my past, I will hold it like sacred, swaddled truth, and I will create with it, because of it, because of it all. I will no longer live in separation. 

I’ve said this so many times in my work, and I have to remember it myself – this year being one big example. In the old template of separation, we orient and operate as women in response and reactivity to external masculine. If we are living our lives watching what patriarchy is doing, watching what men are doing and protecting ourselves from how they might take from us, we are living in response to the perpetrator. Any real-life perpetrator can be long gone from your life and the remnants still there. Isn’t that just how the evil works? Controlling you long after they are gone. When we orient to that, we define ourself as “the child who was raped,” “the woman who has endured trauma,” and so on. We become defined in the fight against it. But there is another freedom and another template altogether, when we realize and leave that all behind. When we set it free, and remember it is Union that we came for and Union that we ARE. 

It’s been a year. And that’s enough. I am sacred, I am sovereign, I am free. I am the child of the divine. My creation doesn’t depend on the external, rather my womb creates with the light of God. 

I am the Holy Daughter. I am love. I AM.  

*** Blessing this space within the love of the Unified Field and within the clear and sacred grids of Gaia.*** 

Your connection to the Earth Grids

A few years ago in client energy sessions, I started to see a golden, lit-up architecture both through and around people. I gathered that what I was seeing was an actual architecture, or grid system, around their bodies.

Often, and becoming more regular all the time, you’ll hear me use the words “energy architecture” and “earth grid.” 

It is also more common than you’d think that people ask me for a glossary of terms. Noted. 

So today I want to share a bit about what these two terms mean to me. These “definitions” are coming from my own Sacred Remembering path. That is to say, I discovered it for myself.

I tend to spend a lot of time (like, years) seeing things I feel to be true and still questioning myself. Recently, I’m getting a big message to knock that off and just come out with it already.

I do often reference the Ascension Glossary and Lisa Renee’s work when I want to double check a hunch I am having (she already made a glossary.) Her work feels true to me down to the marrow of my bones, because she is describing what my soul is remembering.

On the Sacred Remembering path, too, it can simultaneously feel like you’re “figuring something out” and like you know nothing at all. And isn’t that always the truth anyway? 

That said, back to energy architecture & earth grids, and WHY I’m talking about these now. 

A few years ago in client energy sessions, I started to see a golden, lit-up architecture both through and around people. When I say I “see” it, it is in my own inner mind’s eye that I see it while I am on a phone session with someone. So they could be in the next town or on the other side of the world, and I can “see” this when they give me permission to see it, and only when I’m in session and in service. Integrity is very important in energy work.

I gathered that what I was seeing was an actual architecture, or grid system, around their bodies. The way this appeared to me looked like two things I can compare it to: my son’s old K’Nex toy towers, and the little structures that the Doozers in Fraggle Rock were always busy building. (Am I the only Fraggle fan here? I hope not. Wait… were Fraggles & Doozers also grid workers? 😉 Come to think of it, I bet they were!)  

I think we often hear of such concepts as the chakras or the aura, but I see an actual golden light architecture, and I see where it’s compromised or broken. Through your own Soul & Source connections, in sessions we can repair the broken architecture. Also, in my opinion and experience, we are WAY bigger than the concept of the seven chakras and we’d be well empowered to imagine beyond that construct – with the help of grid architecture. Chakra is not a term you’ll hear me use very often for this reason. We are bigger than that, and we need to heal beyond that – into the grids.

How does our energy architecture become broken? 

Trauma, sexual abuse, relational disconnect, feeling separate from Source/God, attacks on your personal power, etc. Also, deep systems such as religion and patriarchy did not want you to have a fully in-tact energetic architecture because to have this connects you back into Source. So in the human forgetting game on the planet, a long time ago, humans were systematically separated from their direct connection to Source. When you remember this connection, you regain Sovereignty and Personal Power. There were a lot of dark forces over the ages that did not want people to have this, and so, it was purposefully tampered with and broken. 

If humans remembered and reconnected into their Source connection, we wouldn’t have the problems we have on the planet and consciousness would immediately evolve. 

Now, Earth Grids: 

When you go get acupuncture, they put needles into points along energy meridians in your body. You could imagine earth grids to be like those energy meridians, or channels. There is an architecture to the earth grids as well. 

Two important things to know about the earth grids: 

1. They are carrying the feminine life current

2. We connect into them

Our energy architecture in our bodies connects in (click!) to the energy architecture in the Earth, when things are in working order. There is a certain sacred geometry for this, but we have to consciously repair it in order for this flow to occur.

I believe that many people on the planet, women especially, are looking for this information. I know my soul was searching for it. I also feel a divine instruction to share it back with you after years of mysterious discoveries and sometimes very weird occurrences.

Also important! When we experience trauma, especially in the lower centers of the physical body, we are disconnected from the earth grids. The connection is broken. Over time, this was also systematic to overpower humans, as I described above. Many of us are necessarily waking up to the fact that not all people or energies are good, and it is possible that you would have been hurt on purpose, potentially in your childhood and then repeatedly throughout your life, if you carry a specific gift or code for these times of spiritual ascension. I was repeatedly targeted, from a very young age and by people who should have protected me, but they were acting under the influence of the dark entities that do not want this kind of knowledge and empowerment to be discovered. This is why we practice clarity in our mission and energetic sovereignty – day in and day out.

Tune into your energy architecture, your Source Connection, and your Earth Grid connection. Do you “see” or imagine anything? Can you envision any kind of structure? 

Do you feel a very deep connection to nature and sometimes feel as if you must go to a certain place and lay down a certain stone or sing a song there, for example? You may be a gridworker! We are working for the clearing of the grids, and also the reconnection between the Earth and Source, with our human bodies as the conduits!

You can enter a meditative state and ask, “Am I connected into my Unified Source Architecture?” and feel if you get a “yes” or a “no.” Do the same with a question like, “Am I connected into the Sovereign Earth Grid Currents?” Feel a yes or a no. 

These are some of the energetic structures of ideas like Unity and Oneness. A person can have these ideas but still be acting with a very fractured architecture (which is most common). Healing your energetic architecture is next-level, in my opinion, along with going TO Source intelligence to organize your energy field. Did you know you had that kind of power? 

Are you interested in learning more about these two things? 

I am hosting an event: Working with the Earth Grids to Heal Sexual Trauma & Money Problems. This event will provide education as well as guided meditations to experience more about the grids and how they pair with your body, and also utilize the benevolent energy currents of the earth grids to heal and clear layers of human miasma (trauma/gunked energy) that are currently stuck in your own earth currents.

We want CURRENCY in our grids!! I can’t wait to share more about this with you and continue to learn alongside one another.

March 4 from 2-4pm EST, the event will be geared to women, but anyone is invited.

SIGN UP HERE: https://buy.stripe.com/eVa9Bb1V85JoanmdQR

The purpose of fear & how to get free.

If we look at it as if everything is happening for us rather than against us, that a purpose of fear is to direct you to your sovereignty.

I find fear to be a fascinating, tricky little bitch.

And I say that with respect to the role that fear plays in our lives. If life is a spectrum of emotions, all somewhere between love and fear, how often do you lean toward fear and how often do you lean toward radical love?

How often are you choosing one or the other, versus operating on a default?

I think if most people are honest, fear is the common default.

The fear of not having money causes people to slave away their waking hours to someone else’s cause.

The fear of not having love causes people to spend endless hours on dating sites or pining for that love that might one day grace their lives.

It’s wild, how much time and energy fear takes from you.

Recently, I learned more information about my upbringing that revealed some really grotesque truths to me. I grew up in a family with deep secrets that most everyone in the family still avoids or denies knowing. But in an effort to bring the truth to light, and to liberate my psyche from habitual trauma responses, I go digging for the truth where most would prefer to avoid it.

And even when I discover a truth that is fascinatingly fucked up, at this point, I’m actually grateful for it. Why? Because it helps me to feel less fear.

Did you ever notice how fear has a tendency to become pervasive? It’s nebulous. It sneaks into places you didn’t expect it to be. If one good thing happens for you, you might find yourself wondering when the other shoe is going to drop. This is fear, just lingering around you while you let it.

The purpose of fear is so that you have less power and autonomy – words that could be used to describe what I call Sovereignty. The purpose of fear is so that you spend your time worrying or giving your power to something other than your true purpose, distracting you from your own clarity.

Fear, truly, is not working for you. It’s working against you, unless you notice it and redirect your actions accordingly. Fear will cause you to live on an adrenal-response autopilot called fight/flight. It will hijack your nervous system and therefore your attention. All of these things are taking your life force and, again, stopping you from being who you came to be.

After finding out about another layer of horrific family secrecy that was used to control me as a child – with effects lasting in my subconscious well into adulthood – I was watching the mechanisms that had been put into play long ago. I was, to be clear, not in a fight/flight response about what I’d found out, but rather, I was observing it neutrally so that I could study the response patterns in my thoughts and body.

I became the watchful observer, to witness the cause/effect, and to change my behaviors accordingly. To get more power and sovereignty back.

What I found was that I was actually living, to some degree, from a fear-based energy due to a trauma response from long ago. I couldn’t see it before now, and then, by shining the light of day onto it, the patterns became clear.

And then it became relatively simple to see what to “do” about it.

First of all, don’t react. Don’t give the fear more fear.

Second, don’t turn away. See it, look at it, stare it down. Fear lives in the dark, so shine the light. (Light-shining podcast forthcoming.)

These two things together, simple in concept only when the nervous system has the capacity not to engage in the fear trigger, can neutralize a fear.

The purpose of fear is, honestly, to control you. Fear lives off of your energy while you spin in circles trying to outrun it. Fear that is the result of a trauma keeps you in a loop of victimhood, wherein your energy is perpetually wasted.

To get sovereign, we have to look at our fear patterns. We could say, I suppose, if we look at it as if everything is happening for us rather than against us, that a purpose of fear is to direct you to your sovereignty.

What are you afraid of?

Where are your fears running your behavior?

Where is fight/flight fueling your decision making about how to spend your time, energy, and attention?

Where are you checking out in your life in order to avoid feeling the fight/flight?

If you’re courageous enough to look at these answers, you can get in front of the fear. You can neutralize it. And in that way, the purpose of fear, when you get wise to it, can be to help you stand in the full power and truth of who you are.

Sarah Poet is a polarity integration expert with a knack for seeing the hidden shadows that result from this bizarro separation matrix we inhabit. To book a consultation for individual or couples coaching, or workplace gender reconciliation counseling, please visit www.sarahpoet.com/book.

Photo: Stock, pexels . com

Opening the Heart

When there has been trauma in the body, what does it look like to begin to truly trust the opening and guidance of the heart?

We have so many reasons to close. To protect our hearts. It’s tragic, really, all the excuses we could have for self protection. 

I’ve had plenty. 

And I’m happy to say, they are being challenged at the next level as I’m being invited to open in places that I maybe didn’t know I was closed. 

I recently found myself in a situation with a man where I did not expect there to be attraction. We’d gotten together as friends and colleagues and then, on this particular day, as he said later, as I’d opened the door and he found me to be “radiant.” 

Radiant. What an “open” expression. I am quite sure that that is the first time a man has ever called me radiant, which is such a beautiful compliment. More than a compliment, it’s an affirmation that as I have been doing the good work of tending to this feminine essence, it is reflecting outward. 

The thing was, however, I felt quite tired on that particular day. I’d had a really deep session with a practitioner the day before, and perhaps I’d describe myself as tender. I wasn’t sad or armored or anything like that. I was just integrating some information that was making me a little tender. So perhaps I was even more unguarded than usual. 

I’ve done a lot of work on my body and the traumas it had endured, and I’ve done a lot of work on my heart to unguard it. I think the feminine heart could be at any given point tender, or elated, or somehow otherwise feeling deeply. If we’re not guarding our hearts, then it will be feeling something, because that’s what it does. 

And so I’ve been contemplating this thing of opening. There’s always the interesting thing we do as humans where we ask, “What am I opening to?” and then we decide if we can open to meet that external thing – whether it be an offer, an agreement, a man’s invitation, etc. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I immediately noticed that the external situation was not my first reference point. For decades in my life it had been. “What is the man doing? What is the man feeling? What is the man offering and am I open to it?” But this was entirely different. 

My reference point was entirely internal. I was pacing with my nervous system. “Is my body opening toward this idea, or closing?” Did I feel the familiar old closure of guardedness, and if so, what did the body need? I was tracking my opening and closing. Anyone with previous trauma related to men knows what I’m talking about – the familiar guards come up as we feel things out. There were plenty of times in the past when my body gave me “Closure! Constriction! Do not proceed!” warning signs that I did not head, which lead to more of my own depletion later. I was noticing this time that it was just natural to stay attuned to myself first – I was going to follow my body’s lead. 

“No moving forward, on any given day, without openness in the body.” 

That’s progress. For any woman. High fives all around when we’re listening to the body. 

However. 

I realized something major. When I was tracking my body’s contraction or expansion, I was essentially tracking the nervous system. I was tracking whether or not the nervous system felt safety or fear. And in doing so, I was not attuning to whether or not my heart was opening and what my heart’s truth was. 

This is really important, because given the way trauma works, we could be experiencing somatic symptoms of a past trauma in a very safe present-day situation. And if we’re only attuning to that and forgetting the heart, then we’ll make it about the past, the trauma, and the nervous system. The attunement to the body is amazing, but then, there is the next-level attunement to the heart.

Beyond previous experiences of depletion or hurt, beyond how the body holds trauma patterns of constriction, there was a new invitation to notice and expand into. “Does the heart want to open? Is the heart opening?” 

I’ve been traveling with the real-life sequence of the teachings I call Heartland now for over a year, but when I felt Spirit nudge me in February to open them back up in in April, I was immediately inside of a next-level learning about the heart. I was back inside the “initiation” of learning these deep transformations to leave more and more layers of feminine depletion, guardedness, and old story behind, and to come into feminine replenishment, the heart, and the experience of the spark of creation. 

In Heartland, we journey to a place of prosperity in the Heart. Not just money and wealth, but true, soul-aligned, heart-opening, blissful, no longer afraid, understanding the creation energy of the cosmos HEART. 

There are eight areas of the Heartland teachings, like a sequence. I had told this man, when sharing about Heartland, that I felt that I was somehow in stage seven of eight. I had conceptualized what stage eight might look like, but was still stretching into it as a woman. Well, you can’t stretch into the Heart of the Heartland until you’re really, truly, willing to move beyond the stories of depletion, fear, the times things were taken from you in the past… the traumas we’ve held in the body, and all the reasons to close the heart. 

And then I saw myself doing it – tracking the sensations of the familiar fear responses in my body (which again, it is really important not to override those sensations) instead of tracking the radiance of my own heart. 

And I think that’s a big part of the leap. Tracking expansion just as much as we’re tracking constriction. Tracking the heart just as much as we’re tracking the nervous system. 

I am not the woman that previously attracted men who were willing to take my life force energy from me. But sometimes something in me forgets and still thinks that I am her, and then my nervous system has a closure response. 

I am instead the woman who has worked on the radiance and prosperity of my own heart. I am the woman who has honored the journey of this body and soul. I am the woman who will decide how to proceed, and I am the woman who is choosing to stand now fully in the New. And the New is the land of the Heart. The place of internal and eternal prosperity. The place beyond taking, where we remember the stories of depletion as a distant memory we have overcome, but where now, we radiate. We shine. We shine our diamond, crystalline hearts, and as we are, good men like this one will not help but to be magnetized and awed by it, and because we are ready, the feminine can now open even deeper. 

First open the body, as the body is ready. Then, open the heart. This is the place where the cosmos will join you in the dance of creation. This is the true Heartland, accessible beyond separation, closure, and fear. This is the place your soul deserves to reside.

Chapter 1: Heartland

The following is a draft first chapter of a book about women reclaiming our feminine resources. I call this the journey to the “Heartland.”

I was living in a man’s house, packing up my belongings after living there for less than a year. I’d moved my child, two cats, and everything I owned to this property per an invitation to “make a life together,” and here it was, the winter holidays, and he was in Ohio with his mother escaping the situation that was going down in his 920 square foot house. Which was: me, boxes everywhere, and everything he didn’t want to face.

I had actually paid him rent. 

He invited us to live with him, but he had wanted some rent. I paid it because he wasn’t rich, we were both entrepreneurs, and I didn’t mind contributing. I will never again move into a man’s house and pay rent. But there were a lot of things we potentially should have made clearer agreements on to prior to making the decision to move in together. 

Live and learn – isn’t that the name of the game? 

I had sent him an email that asked for the last rent back, since I wouldn’t be staying, to reallocate to the moving costs. I think it had actually been his suggestion, and I was following up on it. 

I sat down, at dusk, surrounded by piles of boxes at the kitchen table (my barn wood table that I’d now be moving back to storage), just moments before I had to host an online women’s group, and opened his reply email which said, “I will assess how you’ve left the place, after you’ve moved out, and if it is in a condition that I approve of, I will refund you your money. I will be assessing the house, the barn, and my wood pile.” 

“His wood pile?” I thought.  

Why the wood pile? Why would I ever touch the wood pile? The wood was his to use when he lit the wood stove in the barn, which I never did. Why would he even think to “assess” me on the condition of his wood pile before he gave me back the money that he’d already agreed to give me? These new conditions didn’t even make sense. 

And, it angered me, because I had never once disrespected the property or the house. He had invited us to make a home, and I had treated it as such. I was not at all the kind of person to take vengeance on his property. Why did he all of a sudden assume this? 

I couldn’t even begin to imagine how he had managed to rationalize whether or not I would get the money he’d already said he’d reimburse me, now conditionally based on the quality of his wood pile. Of all things!  

I was so tired of being assessed. He had asked me and my child to move in with him, to “make a life with him,” just months prior. It was six months from our move in date to his “never mind” date. A man who had never lived with a woman, let alone her child and two cats. A man who had seemed like a sure thing, like a safe bet. He volunteered with teen boys’ groups, he woke up early to pray every morning, he had even prayed when he made love to me and miracles happened (which was essentially the reason I had said yes – it was like God was there between us). He felt like a safe bet because he’d seemed innocent and good hearted, and I was trying to ensure that this kind of shit would never happen again. Because I’d seen it all before. 

Going after the girl, getting the girl, wanting the girl to reflect your manhood to you, and the “never mind” moment when they saw themselves in me (Oh, I’m not actually the man I promised you I was), and then, it is amazing how men will blame a woman for that moment of felt-inadequacy. I’d fallen for the man many times who wanted to be “that guy,” and then realized he actually wasn’t, but it’s easier to dismiss the woman than to be the man who actually looks at his shit. 

Not all men. I’m not a man hater. But I know this pattern really, really well. There seemed to be a tangle when I got involved with men – where my resources would somehow be threatened. I had been an entrepreneur for three years at that point, and this was the second relationship that I’d involved myself with that ended up making my life much harder rather than easier or more pleasurable. This was the second relationship in three years that ended up costing me a lot of money rather than resulting in me having more time and energy for my business and family. And, these relationships, not surprisingly, in the end looked and felt a lot like my relationship to my father. I’d seen this pattern with a previous boss and with prior partners too. It seemed to be everywhere and I was somehow late to truly waking up to it, even though I analyzed masculine and feminine all the time. 

There was always the really good beginning, and then the really surprising ending. There was wanting to believe the man, and then the dark shadow of the man revealed something much different. And I was the common denominator. I was somehow getting myself into a revolving pattern. And I was determined to figure it out and put a stop to it for absolute good. 

I was depleted. 

I was having to find energy where I didn’t know if I had any left. 

I had cried with my forehead to the soil on this sacred, sacred piece of property, asking “Why?” 

I had even allowed myself to get to the point where I was sending this goner an email saying, “Hey, can I get that money back please to pay other men to move my things for the second time this year?” 

You could say I was at a breaking point. But not a mental-break, the kind of breaking point where you say “no more” about a pattern in your life, and you fucking mean it. 

The wood pile comment, and his promise to assess me based on his bizarro parameters, and decide whether or not I would have access to the resources that he’d already volunteered to reimburse me for my move, was the last straw. 

I was a grown woman, a mother, who had made a home in his home per his invitation. There was no part of me that would want to harm anything here. I had a deep connection with the land, and experienced deep and corresponding spiritual realizations and awakenings in relationship to this sacred place. I was having a harder time leaving the land than I was leaving him. Him, I was done with. He could drop me and my child when the honeymoon period wore off, and this lack of allegiance, again, I’d seen before so I wasn’t even that emotional about it. Fine. I’d put my eggs in the wrong basket. Now I had to pack up my entire life of belongings, give away the new trampoline and basketball hoop I’d bought for my son, be unsure for months what exact next move I would make – and all of that felt more like a pain in the ass than something that victimized me. Before, I would have fretted and felt like a victim, but not this time. 

This time, it was just a pattern. This time, it was just the end. Here was this pattern, showing up with this man, who, I was sure months earlier would never have dreamed of or approved of the sort of behavior he was now demonstrating. He was a stranger now. 

It was like a dark, trickster bug got into these men, these men who had loved me and laid with me, who wanted to see themselves as my partner and as a parental figure and masculine influence for my son, and then would get to a point where they literally did not care about my wellbeing. They did not care. At one point he had said (in a text because he never even had a conversation to my face), “I don’t care where you go. Just get out. And don’t pull that single-mom card with me.”  They always turned on you. Starting with my father. The dark got into them and they would turn into something unrecognizable. 

And, there was always an element of control. “If you behave to my liking, I’ll reimburse the money you’d given me. But it’s based on my assessment. And the state of my wood pile.” Control, control, control. 

Which is when I snapped. 

Snapped in the best possible way. 

Snapped in the way a woman who has been trying to be good finally breaks free of the bondage of contortion. Snapped like that lead character in Fried Green Tomatoes as she screams “TOWANDA!” as she smashes the young guy’s car because she’s tired of being a doormat. Snapped like I was going to get that reoccurring dark trickster bug out of my fucking life if it was the last thing I did. 

I had to stand up to it. If I didn’t, it would never go away, and it had hunted me down so many times, and I didn’t have the resources to keep losing. This was the end. This trickster who took without replenishing, who would cause a man to watch my demise and detach from his heart. This trickster that would withhold resources, time and again, just like my father had, until he approved of my behavior. 

I knew that trickster inside my father, inside previous partners. I had known this energy my entire life. It used to scare me, but not any more.  Now, I was going to get it the fuck OUT of my life. 

“The wood pile? You’re going to assess me on the condition of the wood pile?” Game on, fucker. 

The heat rose in me, fueled by an eruption of previously-suppressed, primal emotion. I was clear headed, decisive – I wasn’t crazy. My movements became bigger. I became bigger. 

I looked at the clock and gauged that I had about eighteen minutes before I had to host my call. I found a headlamp and shoved it over my messy hair to see in the dark. I put on the old garden gloves I’d almost pitched while packing the day before. And I put on my winter coat, though I would be sweating by the time I was done. 

I found my way in the dark to the wood pile. 

THE wood pile. 

I knew the one he was referring to. Some of it had been chopped, and some of it was still in large, round pieces. And I carried each piece of that fucking wood pile through the yard, to the nearby cliff. And then I heaved each piece, one by one, over the edge. Towanda. 

“Assess me on the fucking wood pile!” HEAVE! 

“Go right ahead!” GUH!

“Hold my resources over my head and look what happens!” THROW! 

“A few hundred dollars? Really? You want to control me based on a few hundred dollars?” HUH! 

“Best money I have EVER spent!” GAHHHH! 

I’m sure the neighbors heard me. I no longer cared about impressions.  

Fifteen minutes. Ten. I had time. I’d be there. And I’d share my choice – this conscious and wild choice – with them, unashamed. The call was, after all, about women taking our power back through a process I call Sacred Remembering. I teach energy sovereignty. I have been doing the work of actively reclaiming my energy from trickster energies and outdated paradigms, but I’d be damned that I had let myself get into another situation of feminine depletion. 

No. More. 

It was exhilarating. I was standing up to this fucking trickster that had haunted me my entire life, I would no longer, not ever again, be controlled by it. The trickster that for my entire life would seek to control me with one thread of direct threat to my resources and then another. Through various men. Always a similar story. 

A destroyer presence. A taker of my energy. A power-player over my resources. But it was getting weaker, clearly, because it was grasping for a few hundred dollars and controlling me over what, a wood pile? It was certainly losing it’s power. And I would ensure that this would be it’s last grab as far as I was EVER concerned. 

I had felt it’s presence forever. The way it lived in men, in people in positions of power, in patriarchy itself. 

The threat that was immanent in so many ways – behave, or lose. Conform, or lose. Obey, or lose. Listen to me, or lose. 

“NO MORE!” 

HEAVE! 

NO MORE. 

Period. 

It was done when I threw the last, giant second of log over the edge. 

No more. 

I felt the trickster’s power die in that moment. 

I’d been fighting this thing for so long, and I had sworn that before I left this place, I would figure this out. I had actually said that to him, when he said one day in October that he was done. I said, “Well, you can wait a damn minute until I figure things out.” And I also said, “I’ll go when the land tells me it’s time to go.” 

The land and I weren’t finished yet. And I wasn’t leaving a victim. Not this time. 

I would figure out why I could be loved by men and then just as easily depleted and discarded. I was somehow attracting and allowing it, yes. And, that trickster entity was not inside of that man when we started. It was like he was infiltrated and then began acting against me. I believe he was. It’s the dark arts of the Destroyer. Sending it’s dark forces into men when women get too big for their britches. These poor men don’t even see it coming, this ego-identification that makes them a pawn to destroy the feminine. 

“Fuck her and her resources,” they say. 

I had finally stood up to all the ways I had been taken advantage of, all the ways that my resources had been threatened in my life by a man invaded with the trickster. 

And I was done. 

I was sweating and panting. I was dirty and unpresentable. I was a wild woman. And I went in, sat down at the table, surrounded by boxes, and told the women what had just happened. 

Because I wasn’t ashamed. I had just taken my power back. 

Best money I had ever spent. 

In the end, in the email he sent me with his arbitrary tally and justification of what he was reimbursing and why, he only deducted $50 for the wood pile. (Wink.) 

Learn more about Heartland for women to move from depletion to replenishment at www.sarahpoet.com/heartland.