Experiencing Christ


What does it mean when people see you as Jesus or have an experience with Jesus when with you?

There is more than one answer to this question so I’ll begin with the first. I appear as Jesus to many because he is part of who I am. In addition, when people chose to embark on the interaction with me as part of their spiritual journey, who and what they most connect with tend to be the first to appear before them. Some of that is connected to how they define themselves, their own journey, and who they perceive to be their guides into their own unfolding. For some, that is Jesus. For others it may be angels, family, or a particular animal.

The experience of Jesus while in my presence comes in several forms and, although not dependent upon definitions of self or connection to faith, is an indication of where many people are in their life. For instance, some people re-experience crucifixion. And in this, they feel their own emotions connected to physically nailed to the cross,  tenderly loved when brought down from it. For some in this group, it is an expression of surrendering into trusting something other than themselves. Many describe the effect as one of knowing they are transitioning from self-sabotage, suffering, or perceptions of figurative crucifixion by peers or family into a space of self-love or into the loving arms of a mother-figure they’ve never had.

Others have had distinct experiences of the resurrection where the stone is rolled away and light can be seen; where they can see beyond their suffering and that of others.  They see themselves rise, feel weightless, connected to God or angels or particular totems they identify with. Particularly for women, there is the simultaneous feeling of hips separating as if they are giving birth to themselves again.. Each of those have particular meaning to the individual I am with.

Some have more explicit experiences that require no interpretation. One of my favorite stories is from a few years ago when a man I was working with shared this:

I saw and felt him where you are, or as you, and he seemed to reach into someplace both within him but outside himself–like he and the universe were one–and he took his heart and placed it into mine.

Most people who do have the experience of Christ with me  see or feel him as a larger group of Beloveds, guides, sages and such who work in concert with me. They do often perceive that his hands feel differently than mine or others present. And, not everybody has experiences or visions with Jesus while working with me. In fact, those who come expecting it are often disappointed because they believe he or I should appear in a particular way. And, this just doesn’t work like that.



Q & A of the day: Christ Consciousness?

I’ve begun getting a few questions related to Christ Consciousness.  I chose two that I think will answer the larger question unasked question.

“You say that Jesus moved into you so does that mean you have attained the level of Christ Consciousness?”

“What does it mean when people experience Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection during a session? Is that like you giving them Christ Consciousness?”

We humans are many-splendored things and our creative minds have wondered about being something other than what we are since we came out of the primordial muck. Some bit of a pre-hominid brain must have said something like, “I wonder what would happen if I try to stand on these hind legs?” That was one helluva perspective change, right? And, then, another followed his lead–to be ‘higher’, to ‘shift’ his sight (and consciousness, no?).

Long before Jesus of Nazareth was born, reaching an ‘other’ level of being, one higher on the scale of worthiness, of holiness, artistry, athleticism, knowledge, and understanding of those things outside our touch and visibility has been part of our cultures. We tried to emulate gods and those who appear to be god-like, especially when we’re young. We are still inspired early to aspire to someone’s strength, grace, knowledge, skills.  They appear in as favorite uncle, mother, neighbor, sports or comic hero, figures in literature and the arts, adventurers of National Geographic and our animal friends.  We want to Be Like Mike, leap from tall buildings with a single bound, protect our family like a lion, or be a Exxon mechanic  (true story, but I only wanted to be like him so I could have a dog named No-Knocks.)

The notion of attaining a ‘higher’ consciousness, though, is, for many, another kind of rising up. With those characteristics worthy of achievement now situated ‘above’ us–rather than with us like our uncle & mechanic–we’ve created a vertical, linear continuum onto which we weigh the value of attainment.  A higher consciousness in spiritual terms is about getting as close to heaven as possible while being alive. The pinnacle of godliness may be reserved for the after-life (how cleanliness got there, no one knows) and only if worthy, but we can try to get close. As expressed by faith, these humanly-attainable levels are epitomized by figures like Buddha, Jesus, the Prophet Muhammad, Krisha, Babaji, and others. They are people that, seen through the lenses of history and myth, appear to have lived in a manner that reflected a closeness to heaven, god, or the Good Conscience.

When we are on a path to reach an ideal we perceive to be intangible but one that carries with it a sense of touchable, we need something to attach that ideal to. Those people give us that thing to grasp, so we can know that if we reach high enough and touch it we, too, can be something more still: more holy, more spiritual, more close to the heavenly or to our definition of God. If we can just love like, express ourselves like, speak like, move the world like, be graceful like.

The search for this higher, Christ Consciousness–the awareness of Jesus–is, at its most base definition, an attempt to be as Christ-like as humanly possible so that the nature of god/heaven can be known. Faiths and philosophies, secret societies and systems abound, each giving a different tack to ‘get there’, ‘arrive’, ‘reach’, ‘ascend’ or ‘awaken’ to.  To a reward or tangible experience or, perhaps, an objective knowledge of the heavenly before death.

Here’s the thing, though.


We can create as many stories–and we have–as we like but we can never know what Jesus did, what he thought & felt, or otherwise be within or attain his awareness. We know who we call the anointed one through myth. His ‘consciousness’ is a mystery. We think we’ve been  given a glimpse of it through apparent recorded acts of conscience. But we can’t know Jesus. Or Buddha. Or the ‘Good Conscience’. Or Krisha. Or Babaji. Except when we do, right? Both in our imaginings, in those ways we ‘see’ them appearing, right? We know how the difference between right action and wrong; right thought and wrong.  We know how to behave in ways that are loving, gracious, peaceful, thoughtful of others, aware–truly aware–of how we respond to our own and external stimuli in ways that help or hinder, create or destroy, bring together or pull apart, and recognize we are not separate.

Thereisnoseparation. There is not a separate consciousness waiting for you to find it and grab hold of its reward or knowledge. There is nothing radical or secret about it. Merely a realization of what so many have taught for so long.

There is nothing outside of you to be reflected. Nothing separate from you to attain or to create a relationship with. There is no map necessary to get you to ‘there’, somewhere else outside of your being, with miles between you and it or he. Someone, somewhen imagined a story and created a system of ‘apart’. That process was washed, rinsed and reinvented again and again.

Reconciling for readers the experience of what I identified as Jesus moving into me, as an energetic form breathed into my very physical bloodstream and the non-physical fibers of my being, with what I know of  ‘being one’ is difficult. I feel trapped by language that can’t express some things either adequately or at all.  Suffice it to say, I didn’t open the right Cracker Jack box, climb the next rung or ascend to anywhere. I’ve never sought such a thing or even thought about it. Jesus was part of the semi-verbal pre-orgasmic expression, my extensive litany of foul language and, according to my favorite bumper sticker, hidden behind the couch the whole time. And still is (except behind the couch. I looked.).

I could say something like Jesus reincarnated through me or his soul ‘walked-in’ but that’s not it. I could say I am but one expression of that energy, that ‘consciousness’ but that’s not it either. I don’t know Jesus the man and my brain made the association of that energy via myth I do know. I like to believe he lived a particular rebellious, ferociously loving way that matches my own experience & desire but that’s just making up another story. I just knew what was occuring in the moment and its meaning then and now. It just is and has no other story.

In all of these integrative experiences when others merged into me, my conscience itself didn’t change. I didn’t become more ‘knowledgeable’ while knowing, more spiritual or more holy. I don’t love much differently but maybe more deeply. I may feel a different level of responsiblity to those who share this body with me but we don’t have separate ‘consciousnesses’ or personalities within it. That might make the conversations with myself much more interesting and fulfill the desire of those who want me to channel other personalities but, alas, no. We live and move and breathe as one. And that is precisely how the awareness of myself changed. Myself wasn’t a self at all. That’s all.

Weliveandmoveandbreatheasone. One.

The connections with Jesus that people have when with me occur in different ways.  Some have seen him with their eyes open, observing or walking into me.  Some have shared that they saw my face morph into his resemblance. Some just see me as him. A few have had a eyes-closed visions of him. One consistent experience is described as his heart being placed within theirs.  Some have conversations–mundane and extra-ordinary–with him. Last year, there were recurrences of either feeling his crucifixion or witnessing it by ‘seeing’ it. The latter two episodes were always followed by two distinct others: either a full-body ‘rebirth’ whereby women felt as if their hips transition to give a physical birth to a grown self (yeah, try wrapping your head around that!) or the ‘seeing’–eyes open or closed–light appear as if a stone was being rolled away from a darkened cave or tomb. (Oddly enough these latter two were also only experienced by women).

Each person is left with their own interpretation of the Jesus-experiences if they choose to interpret them at all. If asked to do so directly, I offer what I sense but usually in the form of a probing question.  In none of our discussions, though, has there been the consideration of a Christ Consciousness being bestowed upon anyone. Because it’s not a ‘thing’ or place or space of heart-mind. Because he is not somewhere or someone else. What has occurred is the offering of a new perspective, a new way of seeing things, a broadening of awareness, and the 3.5 lbs of brilliant brain will find a way explain it in a manner that is somewhat understandable. And then one is left with the opportunity to make choices of how engage with that new knowing.

There’s not a system to be bought or taught, a society to join, no secrets, nothing hidden or lost. There is no goal-post. You need not be pure enough, good enough, spiritual enough, holy enough, smart enough or healed enough. You need not raise your vibration, be downloaded, upgraded, or ‘awakened’, think only positive thoughts, ditch your day job, pray a particular way, or even believe. You know Rumi’s field? The one beyond the right doing and wrong doing? The place where he’ll meet you? You’re already there.

You move and live and breathe as one. Consider that today even if just for a few moments. See how that effects your awareness. You already have an idea of what Jesus would do through your own imaginings. Now, What Will You Do?

 Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.


Being a Jesus Freak

How a non-believer moves as the man, not the myth

“Mythology is not a lie, mythology is poetry, it is metaphorical. It has been well said that mythology is the penultimate truth–penultimate because the ultimate cannot be put into words. It is beyond words. Beyond images, beyond that bounding rim of the Buddhist Wheel of Becoming. Mythology pitches the mind beyond that rim, to what can be known but not told.” ~ Joseph Campbell

While we most often associate spring and the Easter seasons as times of resurrection and new growth, the solstice and Christmas season offer the same opportunity. Winter is more than time for hibernation and vernalization. The sun is reborn, the divine human birthed, internal fires are stoked, and as we move into the new year we create intentions to renew ourownfineselves.

The focus of Christmas has long been the physical birth of Jesus and the celebration by the heavens and Magi alike.  There are philosophical and religious schools of thought that broaden the birth of Jesus from a singular, virginal experience to a incarnation of the divine spirit–a pre-existing Christ as it were. A timeless expression of the divine nature that began long before biblical stories were conceived, ceaselessly moving through what we know of as time and space while being beyond the limitations of what we know.  If I understand the crux of these philosophies, the shared idea is that who we identify as Jesus was one physical incarnation of this being-ness. I will go a step further here and include the notion of a recurring Christ, one who wasn’t born just one day, but one who is born again and again, in each age, in multiple people through the course of time and at the same time.

Here, relying on my own experiences and knowing, I don’t mean to use the notion of reincarnation as we think we know it whereby the soul of a person who has died comes back again as a newborn infant to relive his or their life.  Does that happen? Probably. But this ain’t that.  Also, to be clear, I am neither referencing what is commonly called ‘the second coming’ nor the notion of people attaining ‘Christ Consciousness’. Those ain’t this, either.

During my second integrative experience, when I was flooded with hundreds of energies, the first and instantaneously recognized energy was that of Jesus.  How did I know him? I don’t know. I just did. In the same way I know who it is that is calling me before I pick up the phone, in the same way others can say to me “I see you but I see him at the same time.”  Before this experience, I only knew Jesus as a name, a pictograph or tortured sculpture, and an exclamation point.  I’ve already mentioned that when this process of giving myself over into this way of being began, there was no religious, spiritual or metaphysical background or field of knowledge.  When I was a child my parents exposed me to the Southern Baptist Jesus in the summer, the Methodist flavor when I went to church with my best friend’s family , the occasional jaunt to the Unitarian Universalist in Oxon Hill and Fairfax, with a smattering of Roman Catholic masses, and the one-off (or three) visit to the synagogue but that was about it.

But there’s a thing, though, that we think of, seek, and ask for when we engage with not just Christed-ness but with the man we know of through myth.  That same ‘thing’, what I call an energetic signature, is what I felt and knew. Just knew.  I had actually felt before outside of myself. I’d talked to it–when talking to myself in the kind of conversations that you’re sometimes sure are the most intelligent you’ll have. Because I’ve not prayed as an adult outside of asking ‘why’ when I felt shat upon.  When I was a child I prayed.  I prayed. A lot. I prayed that my brother not get hit (or that I’d actually hit him because, let’s face it, he was three years younger than me and a brother).  I prayed that I not get hurt. I prayed that I’d never see peanut soup again.  I prayed that my parents wouldn’t fight. I prayed that the Redskins would beat Dallas (whaaaaaat?! It’s happened!). I prayed that God would love me when I didn’t feel loved. I prayed that we’d not go on another Sunday country drive. I prayed that I wouldn’t have to wear those gross purple Toughskins. I prayed for bacon (and that bacon would, indeed, be a sign God loved me).  I prayed that I wouldn’t smell like cigarette smoke.  I prayed that my father wouldn’t notice the odometer change.  I prayed that my mother would never cut my hair again. I prayed that next Sunday I’d hear Jonathan Livingston Seagull. I prayed that I’d be allowed to shave my legs soon. I prayed that the angel I saw would save me.  I prayed Travis Clayborne would kiss me. I prayed that I’d understand algebra. I prayed that I would die.  I prayed a lot when I was a kid.  I’m still alive. Travis kissed me when I was in college, not when I was in the seventh grade and letting him cheat off my math and Spanish work.  My father saw the odometer, I heard JL Seagull many times on a Sunday morning and I never did get algebra.  I now appreciate not having to shave, my mother never touched my bangs with scissors again but spent a lot of time trying to smash my head in–blessedly, without using the scissors. And it took a long time to feel loved.  Turns out that I had no idea what prayer was or Jesus is. And the latter had nothing to do with the former.

Many people believe in Jesus as the man, myth and legend; some, the man as non-myth who has died and will return at some point in time; and some,  that the man never existed. And within each group, there appears to be a standard line about the potentiality of Jesus-in-the-now. It’s repeated over and over in a variety of contexts.  It goes something like this:  “You wouldn’t know Jesus Christ if he sat down next to you.”   I remember an encounter the afternoon of our earthquake in Virginia in 2011.  I went to the local watering hole to see if they had power or phone because ours was out.  And conversation began (because they did have electricity and alcohol) with everyone present.  When I happened to mention I was a healer, one of those people  began to share her story of knowing that Jesus was being held in the center of the Pentagon and would be released when the United States military thought the world was ready for him. Followed by “well, no one would think he’s Jesus because he just looks like one of us”.   You might imagine my response (after a Bloody Mary) was.

In our prayers, preaching about, seeking to achieve his consciousness, and even disbelief of Jesus’ existence as god, as spiritual representation of godliness, or as a regular ol’ political pot-stirrer healer-dude, we have expectations how he should appear.  The appearance is reflected in our unique histories related to faith &  religion, culture and continent on which we’re raised, and the propaganda of our times.  Those factors rarely tread far from the comfortable reliance on the archetype and concomitant expectation.  The definition of archetype is this:


1.  the original pattern or model from which all things of the same kind are copied or on which they are based; a model or first form; prototype.

2. (in Jungian psychology) a collectively inherited unconscious idea, pattern of thought, image, etc., universally present in individual psyches.

3. a perfect or typical specimen.

When frameworks lead to the dependence on structures that alleviate the room for growth, transition, curiosity and, yes, doubt, there isn’t even room left deepening of faith or belief.   So when we combine our backgrounds with unwavering rigidity, the outcome can resemble this exchange with a few Southern Baptists: “So, you say you’re a healer”.  “Yes, I am.”  “You know you’re doing the work of the devil, right?”  “Healing is the work of the devil?”  “Yes.”  “Then I guess Jesus and I keep good company.” “You’re going to burn in hell.”  “Because I’m a healer?”  “Yes.”

Or, this from a skeptic:  “You’re a liar! Healing without medicine can’t happen!!”  “It has happened around the globe long before medicine became what it is today.  It also works beautifully with medicine and, in some places ‘medicine’ is the alternative.”  “Prove it!”

I’m going to borrow from a painted conversation between H. Warren Kelly and Father Bill McNichols’ in Taos for a paragraph or two.  In this ‘conversation’ between artists, Father Bill describes religious icons as “glass torches, or lit with a Taboric light…the light of Jesus on Mount Tabor during his Transfiguration.  They appear at first distant, abstract, unrealistic with no attention to anatomy or earthly light source. But when you spend time with them, they allow you to enter in the heavenly presence of the being they represent.”

Warren followed with this:  “Icons…are abstractions that in our eyes “disregard” many rules–perspective, proportion, light sources–of representation…that deliver the viewer directly to meaning.  “Don’t look!! calls the icon, “See!” with a “light of mindful reflection and openness to intuition.”

They Father Bill and Mr. Kelly both call this ‘the light invisible to my eyes’.

That ‘light invisible to the eye’ is what those of us with this energetic signature are imbued with.  We don’t look  the way you think we should, much like those icons, but you can see us with all of your senses if you’re open to us. We are beyond archetypes and stereotypes.    We’re recognizable by how we feel, not how we look to you at first.  And sometimes we feel scary because our energies often provoke physical, emotional and mental responses for which many have no ‘system’. We may “appear at first, distant, abstract and unrealistic” without an ‘earthly light source’. But when you spend time with us, [we] allow you to enter in the heavenly presence of the being[ness] [we] represent.”

When people ask me how to achieve Christ Consciousness, they often receive the eyebrow and a ‘what exactly do you mean‘.  And they don’t seem to know exactly. Only that it seems that’s where they are supposed to be or who they are supposed to be like.  So I tend to share that I’m more interested in them knowing their own consciousness and it’s interplay with the universe, rather than leading them the expression of the universe, that as we purport to know it, is merely myth.

“The very nature of myth is such that one level of meaning lead to yet deeper levels”, say Philip Gardner and Gary Osborne. A journey of sorts.  There are many ways of perceiving them, even beyond the archetype, and those of us with this capacity are here to create that deeper held level here and now.  Joseph Campbell said, “We need myths that will identify the individual not with his local group but with the planet.”  I think one of the reasons we are here now (and the reason we’ve been around all this time, I suppose), to help others re-identify, not just with the planet but with the universal connection that births and rebirths us all, but not as mythical creatures–as human ones here and now.  In doing so, we shake things up and loose at the individual level and offer the experience of the individual transfiguration for reconnection-that deeper level or sense of being that is reflected in the stories of Jesus.

We appear as gardeners and garbage haulers as much as we do as guru or healer.  You will know us as brother, lover, teacher, and sista-from-anotha-motha.  We may very well show up in the psychiatric ward where you do your residency, the visual or sound artist whose creations crack your heart and make you weep in grace, or the stalwart in the midst of chaos. There is nothing typical or perfect about us.  You won’t find us on this top 10 list.  We don’t require others to call us ‘master’ and know that there is much we will never know. We are human vehicles for sharing of the divine made in no one’s image but our own. We merely bring that thing to allow you to see and love your neighbor, the homeless guy at the four-way, and the person who believes differently, as yourself.  We are rare creatures peppered around the globe, often living unseen, or being seen and castigated because we dare appear.

I’ve not met another like me other than those that have merged within me so my experience and expression of this beingness, this reflection of divinity that goes back beyond the ancients, may be a one-off shot.  But here is how I imagine my compadres to be:  of different faiths, creeds, and having different definitions of a creator (or none); coming as we are, in the skin we’re in, sharing the idea of moving myth past the boundaries of any ‘type’ so that when we say, “Don’t look! See!”, that you:

See not just our connected humanity but the connections between and within all things.

See through fear into the heart of all matters.

See past painted pride and prejudices into the heart of your own self.

See the capacity in all to create meaningful community.

See that peace and love are tangible energies, that when combined with effort and grace, are the catalysts for great change.

In this course of the past three years of repeated transformation and learning how to dance anew with the universe, I have been asked many times, “Do you believe in Jesus Christ?”  My response has been, “I know him. Do you?”  Because, no matter when he was born, if he was born, or under what circumstances, he is within me (and others), fully alive beyond myth through us as stewards of that distinct energy, and it can be reflected in everyone; not by practicing to achieve a separate consciousness, but by simply knowing there is no separation.






A Year of Traveling Lightly

Fifty thousand miles of Spirit-Guided Miracles & Magic


I go to seek a Great Perhaps. ~ François Rabelais

Wherever you go becomes a part of you somehow. ~ Anita Desai

The past twelve months have been the most daunting, miraculous, heart-breaking, inspiring, exhilarating and exhausting.  They have left me a to-the-marrow tired that I’ve never could have imagined when I chose to create this journey 14 months ago by making myself homeless.  What began as a knowing that I needed to move has morphed into a dance with the unknown that sates my soul, makes my heart bleed, and recreates me with each breath.

A year ago I was recovering from following a vision that took me from Virginia into Connecticut and preparing to help my best friend move from New Jersey to Seattle. I had no idea then what both of those trips were preparing me for. Although the vision that took me to meet Laura and Doug was not my first, it was the first that provided clear direction to go. Not just anywhere, but to go with clear direction–guided by a street sign–even if I didn’t understand the purpose behind that direction. Following it, though, taught me to listen to guidance from the invisible and become a willing & active participant in the magic of the universe.

That listening was not accompanied with trust.  A must, yes. A knowing that saying no was not an option. But, trust? I only started to learn trust after meeting a dead Pat Kennedy while sitting in a Seattle hotel room. Visitations from non-breathing people were not new to me in January.  I had just not experienced taking direction from one. But this? This direction, without a street sign, was clear, full of purpose and passion for my engagement. Not with my eyes closed in the wee hours of the morning but all-eyes open, with living company and the TV going.  I was being sent to Big Sky country, in February, to provide intercession between the land where blood was shed 144 years ago and the Blackfeet Nation.   That singular act has spilled into a much larger process of weaving lost healers with their tribes and stitching those tribes together around the globe.

What I know today, I did not know in February.  As participant and observer watching the mechanisms for the work fall into place around me I knew only my ‘job’ in it’s discreet sense and that I had made a distinct choice to engage with all things cosmic in a unique fashion.  Going to the mountains of Montana deepened my sense of knowing, reminded me of the complexities of people and my reliance on the same.  Invisible hands held mine during white outs, pleas and demands for help were met with signs of universal partnership and the scars across the face of men. That journey, though, in no way prepared me for what was to occur in the desert five months later or the experiences that spanned those weeks in between.

From February through September, the most common experience people had while with me were either visions of and conversation with Jesus or the experience of a crucifixion and resurrection.  Each woman (for men, the energetic transference appeared in a slightly different fashion) who experienced the phenomena is of a different faith or espouses a non-belief in Jesus or Christian teachings.  From devout Christian, to the lover of Jesus who isn’t Christian and the avowed atheist, to Hindu seeker and Buddhist practitioner.  Each either felt their palms being pierced or bore witness to the crucifixion and shared the resurrection through that of their own rebirth or interpretation of seeing ‘a large thing, like a stone, moving away to create something like a light at the end of a dark space’.  Feeling hips shift as if giving literal rebirth to themselves or recognizing the capacity to take this awakening experience into a change for their own life–over and over again.

I thought that pattern would continue when I traveled from California to Las Vegas the first time.  However, a Hindu Goddess made a visit instead as my relationship with the Navajo Nation began. A simple question during one session has morphed into a greater vision of reconnection and reemergence of ancients.  From a “who is the Native presence” to “I’m here to take you home”continues to evolve into a string of future homecomings.

While in Las Vegas this past June, I met a man’s ex-wife during a healing session and interrupted proceeding when I felt a distinct Navajo presence.  Three weeks later I flew back to Las Vegas from Virginia, met that man for the first time and said, “I’ve been known by many names over many lifetimes.  This time I go by Ingrid and I am here to take you home.”   And he said, “Okay.” Just like that, the world changed.

While driving into Arizona with this no-longer-a-stranger less than twenty-four hours later, I wondered what would happen if I was  just wrong.  Good, old fashioned wrong.  What would it be like saying to this man who’d placed his future in my hands if I had to say, “Oops! I obviously didn’t know what I was talking about when I said I was here to take you home”?  That moved as quickly out of my head as it entered it.  I just knew.  I knew that as I listened, observed and coached reconnection would be made. And I asked silently over and over again to be seen, recognized, welcomed and supported.  And we were.  Within thirty-six hours and three conversations with two women selling jewelry, mother and child, medicine man and tribe, were reunited.  That reunification was compounded by my own reconnection with ancient energies in the Tuba City Kentucky Fried Chicken in an experience so profound that I was certain I would die in the parking lot.

I didn’t die then but between July and a resurrection of sorts (again) in October, I met the Peruvian, Apache, Mayan, Choctaw, Maori, and another Polynesian healers and magic-makers that will be reunited with their tribes in the coming two years.  And more are waiting to be discovered. They will be taking me on the weaving journey to Australia, Mexico, Peru, Scandinavia, Mongolia, China, Guatemala and Indonesia sooner rather than later.

My own rediscovery of self has included the loss thereof, the emergence of a knack for channeling & mediumship, teaching and mentoring the generation behind me so that they may lead their cohorts.  Moving through the world in this way brings me to people, places and situations that present their own unique challenges. Being homeless and more broke than not isn’t easy.  Living in the manner that many appear to strive for but cannot understand makes for uncomfortable encounters and heartbreak.  The highs brought by spontaneous remission of disease, extraordinary lightness of being, and revolutionary shifts is accompanied by lows so deep they seem impossible to emerge from.  The complexities of the human psyche combined with living in this expression of the universe–as a being connected intimately with both mystery of cosmos and the chaos of the earth–often appears as a spasmodic ballet.  Torsion and tension physically, mentally and emotionally create syncopated rhythm as participant and partners make their way through the ether.

There is a mistaken notion that as I travel I’m merely on walkabout, adrift with the wind, being blown hither and yon for the thrill of it.  Each venture into the unknown is full of purpose and there is a pointed focus of energies and attention–whether it is to repair the earth, release centuries of despair,  provide healing for veterans, answer the spiritual or telephone call for help , create the opportunity for rebirth,  bridge people through time, or offer succor to those violently moved into another space, this is a guided journey that utilizes every strength and all senses, all of the time.

Those internal and external partnered senses allow me to be open to ‘see’ visions without interpretation, interpret situations with clarity and also recognize when I need help in doing so.  They allow me to understand that when, in November, a Navajo War God sends me to a place I circled on a map the previous July, there is meaning behind the obvious and links to something much larger than self, than god, than any previous expectations.  And, when a god of any persuasion says “go and do”, what am I going to do?  Say no?

When I began this journey in February, I shared with some frequency that I was reading  braille, as if moving after with clear direction but without knowing the distinct purpose and feeling my way through to it.  The purpose has become quite clear and was brought home on October 27 in such a fashion that I will never feel blind or doubt my capacity again.

As my relationship with ancients & their peoples from around the globe deepens to help create a new paradigm for this millennium, and as I move from a stubborn reliance of my own knowing into a trusting relationship with the seen and unseen around me, the unfolding of our path and unveiling of our truth continues with grace and deep gratitude for those who create safe harbor for this sojourner and love her however she shows up.