One of the best parts about growing up is that I’ve realized how much of my essential self hasn’t changed since I was a kid.
In essence, I believe we are a sacred continuum.
And while there are constant calls as adults for us to change, be better, do more, I am here with the simplest message. If you can, go out into the woods. Go to the ocean. Look at the moon and stars, notice the trees and animals. Then teach your children to do the same. When I was young I’d go out into the woods and all my awkwardness and uncertainty about life disappeared. I hesitate to say it was magical, because most times it felt more real to me than “real” life.
I began writing at a very young age about pain and darkness, but also about rainbows and unicorns. My first book, that I wrote at the tender age of 9 years old, describes my philosophy in a nutshell. A little Catholic school girl writing a story titled, The Mystical Rainbow. It was about seeing a unicorn in a rainbow and it speaking its wisdom to me.
When my son was just a toddler, I walked in the woods with him and it gave me a way to talk to him about spirituality and in the process I rediscovered my own. The divine beloved, the great mother, the source, the great spirit began to speak to me. And I humbly began to listen.
I’ve been writing for a long time about my experiences with loss, grief, life and the path to reunite with some sort of sweetness. That sweetness is an unfolding. It is Trust. It is the asking of us to follow our heart’s path, receive our heart’s medicine, shine our light in the world where we can. Like nature, it is just a constant state of emergence and dying, ebb and flow.
In 2005, I studied yoga in India and was given the spiritual name Amrita. It means sweet nectar of immortality. I came home from that trip and my mother passed away 7 months later. I had already lost my father. I’ve struggled with tragedy and a crisis of faith most of my adult life. Strangely enough the struggle is where I found myself. The poignancy and the beauty is in the messiness, in the living, even as or maybe because you feel like you are falling apart.