beloved

28. FAMILY TIES

Excerpt from “My Lovedance”

Learning to be my truth within my family of origin has taken a very long time. It is our soul work to witness our lessons in the mirror of those we love. And families are magnifying lenses…

Dec 23rd, 2003

Off to Utah for the family holidays. Anxious premonitions of my beloved Santa cup breaking. After 20 years of keeping them safe for my sisters, I tried to pack them carefully, but one tumbled out of the car, so I traded my unscathed cup for the fractured one. This trip is about breaking attachments, perhaps to things, but yet deeper, to what I believed my sisters to be. As I am coming to know myself as joyous passion I shall recognize who they are as love. So many sister dreams lately. Since childhood, I have flown in my dreams stringing them along like Peter Pan, barely able to get them off the ground. Lately in my dreams, I do not hold their hands, but try to teach them to fly on their own, but they resist. I feel tired, saddened. Will my sisters throw me out like Yeshua was thrown out of Nazareth? Strangers can be more accepting than those closest when you change too rapidly.

Dec 26th, 2003 A snowstorm traps us in the house, playing games, memories abound. On Christmas Eve, I experienced the power of the loving-kindness prayer. The family gathered around my sister’s large kitchen island arguing about the Cody Bank’s rape charge. When the manner in which the victim dressed was blamed, I felt the urge to jump into the fray, yet stopped and silently asked that my fear be lifted and I be filled with light and love, then asked the same for each and every one of them. When I got to Kyra, she looked up and mouthed, “What are you doing?”

“Blessing us,” I silently replied. The tension melted. The brothers-in-law about to engage in fist a cuffs, laughed at another’s joke and all was well. This morning my youngest sister hugged me fiercely claiming she thinks about me every day. Lately I can say the same. I wish I could see beyond the possessive love in this family, the competitiveness, the criticism, the ego…especially mine—my ego is much too overwhelming. My muse is on holiday, but lots of purple around me, my aura brilliant whenever I close my eyes. Torn between gluttony and deprivation, defenseless in the face of my family without bulimia to protect me. Trapped in a house of mirrors. One: reflecting unforgiving close-mindedness, one: emotional, temperamental, quick to strike, yet a core of love, one: distant, shallow immersion, non-committal, one: lost in a world of self, one: poor self-esteem, critical of all, not knowing when to hold her tongue, my brothers-in-law, my nieces and nephews clueless bystanders, my husband supportive, policing my behavior. This journal my only escape…

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25. EVERLASTING BIRTH PANGS

Late in spring, Steve and I were at Lowes buying veggies for the garden. He left me with a cart full of plants to go get something in the warehouse…a dangerous thing cause I LOVE flowers. Some dahlias called so I knelt to find the one that wanted to come home with me when I was approached by a tiny, slightly bent, very wrinkled, delightfully enthusiastic ancient Native American woman.

“Come, come. You must see these flowers.” She beckoned pushing a walker cart. I was enchanted by her energy and followed her. “These are the flowers for you.”

She showed me some bright yellow and pink annuals. “Touch them,” she insisted. The flowers were dry, perfectly preserved. I was amazed. “Strawflowers!” She exclaimed. “They’re for you.” I yearned to give her a big hug, but she was so tiny and fragile, I just caressed her shoulder as I thanked her. How could I not buy one?

So I planted a bright yellow strawflower in front and forgot about it…until last Memorial Day. I was on my way to finish my sculpture…and had an uneasy feeling all weekend. Driving over to Grandmother Kathy’s house filled with a familiar feeling of anticipation peppered by trepidation, I was transported back to 1984 driving to UCLA to pick up my first born from the NICU, excited but a little scared. My whole life would change when I brought him home. And now my life was changing again.

I cried the moment Kathy hugged me. “What’s wrong?” About to bring home another life changing creation, I knew that I would never be the same again.

My sculpture came out of the kiln relatively unscathed (a slight crack in the horse’s neck and her left knee…we all have birthmarks and scars, don’t we?) The retouch staining went well, but alas Kathy did not have the right glue to attach the crystal amethyst wings to the ceramic back of the woman so off we went to Lowes.

And Kathy led me right over to a lovely display of strawflowers. “Do you know what these are?” I nodded, as a matter of fact I did, and shared the story of the ancient flower woman with her. She was very excited and after getting the glue and another strawflower plant for each of us, we headed back to her house to attach the wings.

As we waited for the glue to dry, Kathy brought out an essential oil…Helichrysum…she said was from strawflower…yet I knew in holding the tiny vial…that wasn’t quite right…I envisioned a rougher plant… I was hesitant to smell it…She wondered why and I explained that certain odors are powerful memory inducers for me…finally I did…

…and I was in the tomb anointing Yeshua’s hands and feet. Then I went further back to just before the Seder…opening the alabaster jar, Judas reacted to the scent of the helichrysum…not the spikenard, frankincense or myrrh, but the helichrysum because…it was used to heal wounds, to revive…to resurrect…and now he had to do what was asked of him…he didn’t believe and the others, well, they didn’t know what was going on…Then I saw myself well before that last Passover collecting tiny dried yellow flowers from a rough lavender looking plant and simmering them in olive oil until the essence was extracted….Tears poured down my cheeks as I remembered…

Kathy was amazed…she called the essence “everlasting” Afterwards I looked it up online (I love my smart phone!) and found the plant from which the oil is derived….it looked like what I envisioned and the Latin name is “Immortelle”…

I found research on helichrysum for use in gingivitis. I decided to try it on my gums…Steve’s reaction to the smell was strong…he said it made him feel “very upset… please don’t use it again, please” My Mom found it healing, so much so just smelling it relieved a headache… Kathy had the same reaction as Mom…

Now once again I’m astride two worlds…as Jarys would say…the past and the present. Or if there is no time…I’m floating in my river of consciousness between the banks of what was and what will be.

Excerpt from My LoveDance. Available on Amazon

23. PRECIOUS

I’ve always felt precious. My mother called me her precious daughter until the day she died. My father treats me as if I am a precious gift. My grandparents beheld me with preciousness in their gaze. My aunt and uncle speak of their brief time with me as precious. And I have always felt life is precious. That my relationship with Steve is precious. That my children are precious gifts to me.

So how can preciousness and unworthiness live in one being? Because we live in a dualistic world. We are both self and other. We are both light and dark. We are both divine and human. We are in duality. In duality, we develop our sense of self, our egos. Our ego serves to differentiate us from others. Only when we drop the veil of ego can we be one with all that is. Yet being human, we need differentiation to appreciate connection.

My parents perceived my divine light. And I knew myself as precious until I developed my ego. Then under the veil of ego, I felt separation from all that is and began to feel unworthy. I could no longer perceive my own divine light.

While cleaning a stained-glass lamp, it came to me. The inner light was dull due to the dust of time. Yet polishing the outside of the glass did little to increase the brightness of the light. I had to polish the inside of the glass. Only then did the light shine with its true brilliance.

Same with us. We work so hard polishing our outer selves. Perfecting our appearances, our bodies, our faces, our clothes, the cars we drive, the houses we live in, the people we hang out with, the money in the bank, the roles we play…lots of time polishing our outsides… Never quite good enough always striving for more. Thinner, younger, prettier, stronger, richer, more successful.

Yet until we dive deep within to rediscover our preciousness do we spend time polishing our inner selves. Removing the dust accumulated over the years…the childhood traumas we reflexively relive, the generational thinking we carry as karmic imprints, the old paradigm beliefs we are afraid to give up…until we polish our inner selves does our divine light shine brightly enough for us to see it reflected in the world. In the faces of our family and friends, in our works, in our connection with the earth, in all of our lives.

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Excerpt from My LoveDance. Available on Amazon

21. HELIUM BALLOON

While this is my story, it’s also ours. We’ve been together since we were kids. Steve’s a main character in my story. If it wasn’t for him, I may not have reconnected to my truth so early in my life. His love became the foundation of my awakening. He grounds me into this reality so that my dreams might manifest.

When our daughter was only five, she described us as a helium balloon.

“You’re the balloon, Mommy.”

“Then what’s Daddy, Kyra?”

“He’s the string!” She rolled her eyes. “Without him, you would fly off to outer space.”

After tucking her in with a kiss and a story, I related our conversation to her father.

He laughed. “She’s right. I am the string to your balloon. You need me to keep you on earth. And I need you to get me off the ground.”

It’s sometimes eerie how well we fit together.

When my youngest sister was pregnant with her last child, one of my twin sisters and I gave her baby shower. It was a couple’s shower so Steve came along. Exhausted from working a night shift and getting so little sleep before the afternoon shower, he had a headache and went inside to lie down.

I had a great game for the dozen couples to play. It involved diapering a “baby” the old-fashioned way with cloth diapers and pins. The trick was that each couple had to do it together using only one hand. Needless to say, there was a lot of laughter, poorly diapered dolls, and when my pregnant sister and her husband took their turn, a lot of blood and cursing. No one could do it under two minutes.
My other sister had an idea. “Let’s see you and Steve do it.” I protested. The game was for the guests. “Please,” she begged. “I’ll get Steve!” And she hurried into the house.

We had never played this silly shower game before but Steve could not resist my sister’s pleas. So we linked arms. He was the right hand and I was the left. And silently in perfect unison as if we were one body, we diapered the “baby”. My sister held it up, “I knew it! Less than 30 seconds and perfectly diapered. And look, no blood!”

It was so natural to be in perfect harmony with my beloved even for a silly shower game. Like I said, my story is his too

Excerpt from My LoveDance. Available on Amazon

19. IS THE MUSIC STILL PLAYING?

My LoveDance® feels complete…but oh, not yet. It is time to go deeper…time to open the past. I must admit that when I did open my mother’s cedar chest, the ghosts of Deborah past knocked me back on my butt. My left sciatic ached for days…birthing pains…time to go back to the beginning. To face the old me. I do not like the way I wrote then…hiding my truth behind too many words…but I shall include some of it…just to see how far I’ve come on my journey.


20. HOT TUB ADVICE

I’m in the Jacuzzi with Steve enjoying our morning coffee. In the oak sprawled above us, squirrels chatter at crows taking refuge from a pair of bossy jays. This land of ours is teaming with life. Only an acre yet separated into garden rooms so that it feels like three. My mare watches us as the goat rubs against the new gate. The dog pokes his head over the edge of the tub. Steve gives him an affectionate pat. “You know you should start at the end.”

“What?” Overhead, a golden hawk cries—messenger of the divine. I listen closely to my beloved.

“Well, I like books that start at the end then go back to how they got there.”

“I think that’s what is being asked of me…how did I get here?”

He smiles, “I meant for LoveDance®.”

I give him a kiss, “Yes, but this is My LoveDance®.”

He sighs, “You’re going to tell it all, aren’t you?”

Yes. Yes I am.

Excerpt from My LoveDance. Available on Amazon

11. MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?

Sultry music warms the desert air. And I’ve been dancing—Brazilian Samba—all night. Once, twice with my beloved, but dancing is not his thing. It’s mine. I cannot keep still when the drum calls. I dance with whoever asks. Men, women, children…or just with the drummer.

All my sisters and my mother came with me to this Cinco de Mayo celebration in the rosy desert glow of Palm Springs. Our dear friends invited us to partake of their Mexican feast, margaritas and music. Most of the celebrants are gay…and I am in heaven with no shortage of dance partners. Although my mother ventured onto the dance floor, my sisters kept to themselves, later wondering why they danced so little. At the intermission, the band leader told me why.

He had put on some recorded music and the other dancers left. Still captivated by the energy, I stayed. He asked me to dance. When I slipped into his arms, he made a comment, “Your body is perfect for dancing.”

And I said, “My husband is right over there.”

He laughed. “Forgive me. I have been watching you dance all night. Partnering with dancers of all abilities. And each one you received and danced with beautifully. Your body is perfect for dancing.”

Perhaps he’s right. I have yet to encounter a person I cannot dance with. I just follow their lead. They may be awkward or shy or overly trained in a particular style of dance that may not match the music. It doesn’t matter. Somehow their inner dancer comes out to dance with me.

Years ago, I attended a Science and Consciousness conference in New Mexico. The conference began with Dances of Universal Peace. A large group of us circled around a makeshift band of musicians with drums, flutes and stringed instruments. I was enchanted. The music was so enticing. I danced joyously with each and every one in the circle. And many people approached me afterwards complimenting me on my dancing. “Are you a professional dancer?” I just laughed. Far from it.

I never thought of myself as a dancer. In fact, my husband used to tease that I danced to the beat of a different drummer. But I didn’t care, enjoying the music, the camaraderie, the energy. I called my guru friend. I thought Anika would love the dances, especially since she had been taking ballroom dancing and had started dancing competitively. She huffed at the idea that anyone would think I was a professional dancer. “You’ve had no training!”

Hmm. I didn’t know what to say. But since then I have had many people express enchantment at my dancing. Then I wrote LoveDance® and finally understood.

Dancing is my way of connecting with the energy. A means of celebration, of expressing my feelings, of being present. And life is a dance of love. Steve suggested that LoveDance® is my expression of Self. Love is at the center of the triad of Relationships, Soul Purpose, and Health. I include Health because as a Holistic Nurse Practitioner, Health of Body, Mind, and Soul is paramount in the Process of Enlightenment. It is not enough for me to talk…but to walk my talk…or rather…to dance my truth!

Excerpt from My LoveDance. Available on Amazon

My daughter’s wedding…truly a living LoveDance!

On Saturday my daughter married her best friend. Like my love story, hers began early. They met freshman year in college and nearly eight years later they wed. My artistic daughter designed everything for her beautiful wedding. Her father built the chupah. She hand painted driftwood with each guest’s name. My sisters placed over 80 vintage bottles filled with hydrangeas, greenery, baby’s breath and fairy lights on heirloom lace doilies at every table.

She carried my Nana’s hankie, and had two of Poppop’s hankies embroidered for her father and me to dry our happy tears!

my hankie

140 family and friends celebrated with us!

Years ago when I first set up my LoveDance website, my daughter painted a picture that reminded me of Yeshua and Mary Magdalen. And Saturday when she met her beloved at the chupah, I once again relived the beautiful love story.

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Our little family joyously expanded with a new son…

family pic

Here’s to Happily Ever After!

My Mary Magdalen Journey

ImageMy journey began with a dream…I am fourteen year old Mary dancing down the streets of Nazareth. Through LoveDance, I remembered myself as the Sacred Feminine. I became the Divine Daughter. I reconnected to the Divine Mother. It took eight months to write. And three years to publish.

In Book II, I realized that I Am The Way. I healed an ancient father wound and remembered my connection to the Divine Masculine. It took five years to write. I pray it does not take long to publish…

Each book became my life. The sensuality, the realizations, the remembrance of my gifts, the healing, the connections. Many have found healing in the pages of LoveDance. For those who have trouble connecting to the written word, I pray it becomes a movie.

I need connections to the publishing world at large, major media to really bring Mary’s Sacred Journey to Light. For her life, as I remember it, was very human, very enlightening, sensual, loving and real. She has taught me much about love, about gratitude, about commitment, about releasing fear and receiving the gift of every encounter.

Now I begin the writing of Book III. In a different vein, a more realized energy, this time even more supported by my beloved. Each book has been a deeper awakening for us. He was afraid for me when I began to write LoveDance. It is a curse and a blessing to be chosen as my rabbi friend once told me. I had a difficult time in conceiving the first book. It was hard to be Deborah while remembering Mary. I vowed to not lose myself in book II and I didn’t. Yet it took so long to write because it took so long to remember the ancient father wound and then to heal it in my own life and plant a new seed for consciousness. LoveDance is not just a women’s book. Book II is the time most known by historians and theologians yet I believe they only know the male version of the story. In LoveDance Book II, I unveil the female version for both men and women.

Ten years after beginning LoveDance, my beloved took me to the south of France for our 30th wedding anniversary. I have done little research in writing the LoveDance series. The scenes come in dreams and visions. As I dive deeper into HerStory, pieces are remembered by family and friends. Some they recognize, some they just deliver unknowing to me, usually after I meditate for an opening. It’s all good, all as it is meant to be.

I have seen scenes of Book III since the beginning. They haunted me until I had a deeper understanding and a more divine perspective. I felt drawn to the south of France…perhaps there in what was once Roman Gaul seeds of truth were buried in some of the legends. I discovered some pearls in the mud of misperception. More so, I discovered a great reverence for the Magdalen scattered throughout Provence. For that I am grateful. For Mary’s sake, for woman’s sake, for all of us.

MY SOUL PURSE

 It began at the Grandmother’s Council on 10-10-10. Grandmother Kathy reminded us of the seeds of intention that we planted in the spring. Some could not remember their intentions, some remembered but did not tend them. I was acutely aware of mine. My birthday is on the spring equinox and every year I plant seeds of intention with the hopes of a great harvest come fall. This year my intention was to be open to receive abundance.

Oh, I have much. My life is very rich. A beautiful home, fertile land, healthy, happy children, an amazing relationship with my beloved husband, a fulfilling medical practice, yet I feel that there is more…that I am to go out into the world and share my wisdom…and to do that…I need resources…money and people to help…and although my business pays the bills, still there is debt incurred to develop Genesis Gold…and my book—LoveDance—waiting for release.

Since spring, I have been acutely aware of the abundance in my life, living in gratitude as the universe has seen fit to challenge me…with death, and loss, and sacrifice. As if I had to empty my Soul Purse over and over to make room for the abundance to come.

That night… I have sequence of five dreams…

All the time I’m dreaming, I’m lucid. I fall in and out of sleep after a tremendous hot flash at 12:30—three hours after I fell asleep—and spend time rolling around considering what I should do about my hormonal challenge…then set my intention to know what it’s all about at the soul level and fall asleep…

…The first dream opens with a gathering of women in a great big house. I’m trying to settle in and my roommate shows up. One of my young patients and she’s distraught, hands me her pants. She needs another pair just like them. I tell her pants are expensive in..Italy…wow, that’s where we are!… and she hands me $50. I look at the pants…olive green sueded polyester nothing wrong with them except a blood stain at the crotch. She is mortified that she started her period…this is the patient I saw last week who missed her period…I explain she can wash them out but she will never wear them again—stained with women’s blood…I am saddened by her shame, I want to make it better for her…and then I see that she is me as a girl not at peace with my femininity and all women afraid they are unclean as the world has treated them. And I feel a deep sense of gratitude for finally embracing my feminine power…

…and the dream shifts. I’m with the same gathering, but so crowded, too many women… A fake sense of feminine power emanates from them—over inflated, dangerous—a roomful of women wearing pants under skirts. I need to get away. But it’s so crowded.  Finally, I remember I can fly! I start to push off away from the crowded staircase I’m on…and another woman, one from my women’s circle…says “Hold her!” I am chased by two women, cannot gain altitude through the crowded place, they grasp my trailing legs, but cannot catch me. I feel light but too low…the energy is one of a dog teasing its owners into a game of chase– I head for the light, but they close the opening before I can fly there…I’m trapped in a great big tent! …Lucid, I try to wake up…and realize until I get the message of the dream sequence, I’m not going anywhere…I fly up through ropes, tight ropes. Below me, all the women I’ve gotten involved with in this life and beyond—from girls scouts, to sorority sisters, to the nurse practitioners I led, and the women’s circle, the grandmothers, and interspersed are the women gurus who wove in and out of my life these past 13 years…all who wanted me to join them, to lead them… …my lucid self so happy to be flying again (I haven’t flown in my dreams since the women’s retreat just before the Autumn Equinox where we worked on our karmic imprints)…How funny that my subconscious traps me in a circus tent with the crazy women. I laugh…

….and slip into another dream. A great gathering of all my dead patients. Everyone’s there…Eddie in the background—smoking!—Lucy, Michael, many who I’ve forgotten their names, but recognize their faces—whole and healthy—and their energy. All doing whatever they please…peace emanates from them. The last patient I buried is there too.  A sense of guilt carried from my waking world trickles into my dreamtime. Karen is the spokeswoman and she’s explaining where Anita is on her spirit path so soon after her death. “There is no need for regret. You danced your best dance with each of us. We are where we need to be at this time in human consciousness.” Gran’s there too. And she is walking very strangely…like she’s in a space suit, sort of praying mantis like. I wonder if her walker would help, and Gran apologizes…it’s broke, how difficult it is to move on earth, so much easier over there. I have a catalog in my hands and pick out a handicap toilet for her…pink and orange!…which seems silly since, I know Gran isn’t staying…and feel bad that we didn’t make these accommodations for her while she was alive. I show her the toilet. “I never had such a bright toilet!” she says, “but I don’t think I’ll need one. I’m not staying, dear. This is the first time you let me in.” True, she has visited Steve many times. I inquire about the others. She says “I have very nice visits with Stevie, but the rest are harder.” I hoped she wasn’t spending too much time and effort trying to contact those who were not ready to receive her. She laughed and said, no she is very busy over there, but not to worry. Time is not an issue for her anymore and effort, well it is easier to be in the presence of love than fear… In my observer, lucid dreamer state, I want to spend more time with the dead, knowing it’s precious…it’s the first time I’ve dreamt of Gran and she feels so real…our conversations though bizarre so genuine. The only one I miss in the dreams is Hope…she’s not with the grateful dead…but I’m not sad. I know my beloved Great Dane, my Hope, is where she belongs…

…then I’m on a huge field, tossing a yellow and green stained nerf football to a black dog and a blond boy. Every pass, they switch off, I’m not a good thrower and neither of them catch well. We pass through many other people’s games/lives, communicate with them and move on. All are men and boys…fathers and sons. Playing amongst a group of black men and boys, one of which compliments my butt as I bend over the tub to find the dog tied together like a broken doll almost fetal like. I keep finding its limp body left behind with the ball underwater. At first I dismiss the comment as I did in my youth with an excuse and then I replay the scene and graciously thank the man and he swells and merges with the other black men, their sons receiving their vibration as the sacred feminine received them…back to the fetal dog and used up ball left underwater…I realize the boy has moved on… this boy-dog issue I know is mine…my inner boy child leaving me and the spirit dog connecting him to the otherworld left behind…this is part of the healing the divine masculine within me…

…then I’m back in the house—my recurring house dream. Usually in the “house” dream, I am so frustrated…my sisters keep me from getting what I need to get done, I’m always cooking or cleaning and everything is a disaster…this time I am just watching while being in the midst of them…like I’m watching a home movie while being in it … this time, instead of wandering the never-ending rooms, and halls, I stay in the kitchen-family room where all the family is gathered. It’s our rental, yet I have no sense of ownership… The family has rented it before and had a disaster with the microwave. I am surprised I am not making a fuss that they are trying to microwave a whole chicken…Steve even looks to me for a response, but it is like I am just observing, it’s all very funny and we’re playing our silly parts again and again with the same outcome, I even tease about some goofy fake fur pants I plan to get Carl, but no, it’s John now since Kelli changed all the names around and Karen (the fashionable sister) looks at me horrified… Later I am to meet Steve for a trip, he’s coming back to the house to pick me up, but Karen needs my car to go to work…and she’s dressed in these too big jeans, strange polka dot hose and heels, a vest she made up out of our dead PopPop’s pajama top and a nice leather jacket on top of it all. I send her out with my blessing, but need to get my purse out of the car because it has everything I need to go away with Steve. I’m surprised at the floppy little purse that seems so empty (my soul purse)…I never carry purses in my dream…always have what I need somewhere on me… And then I am my daughter Kyra meeting her beloved Tom to go to Hawaii. ..and I realize all is superfluous because I must get ready for a wedding…

Then I wake up!

The energy of the dreams was curiosity…taking a trip down the rabbit hole of my subconscious…and at times I try to get out but I know it’s all a dream and stay to learn more. There’s no fear, just tempered amusement…bemusement. I know I am growing while in the dark dream state…I intended this before falling asleep …I know these dreams represent what I have cleared from my soul purse…my fears of being a woman, my tendencies to get captured by others and taken advantage of, the shame of failing in my healing practice, letting go of the boy to allow room for the divine masculine, being with my family all the interior mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, daughters, sons and not being smothered by my relationships with them but seeing the humor in life and being gracious with my humanity…then going on the next stage of my soul journey, preparing for the divine masculine to experience the sacred marriage of divine feminine and divine masculine within me in the heart of the earth…starting all over again like newlyweds… The last sequence with the empty purse (I never dream of purses!) with Hope not part of the dead but so deeply embedded in my soul, not something to be cleared out of my soul “purse”… something to keep always.

This crazy dream sequence was in fact…the past six months of soul work from the time on the spring equinox when I planted the seed of intention to be open to receive abundance…through all the work of clearing out all that doesn’t serve me, and making room for a great harvest, a filling up of soul…a completeness of self…whole, finally to be whole.

What a blessing to be reminded of this journey by the grandmother’s council! I shared this dream with Grandmother Kathy and she says she sees a red-purple purse…violet is my life color…with a golden clasp opening to receive, closing to enjoy, then emptying to be open again and again to receive all the gold the divine has in store for me.

May your Soul Purse be empty of that which does not serve you and filled with golden abundance!

Love and Light,

Deborah