Hello friends.

This has been a deep and shifting time, and I have few words to share at the moment, though perhaps a story will emerge that merits telling.

In the interim, I'd like to share another song I recorded with you. This was written years ago by Amy Grant.  It's called "After the Fire" (and her beautiful version can be found on the album, Simple Things, 2003, A&M).

I was playing this song for myself the other day and I was struck by how deeply it resonated with me, so I decided to record it. During this time of tremendous change (both inner and outer), I've felt both loss and the emergence of something very new. Pele's volcanic activity on the Big Island of Hawaii is mirroring the death and rebirth that is happening within me, and I suspect, for many of us right now. 

When I sing this song, I hear the voice of my eternal self comforting the distraught and nervous human, holding me and reminding me that we are in this together.

Blessings to you all as we embrace change.

Love,
Donna

​

I’d been taking voice lessons for a couple of years and, much to my delight, had been cast in two great shows. My son had followed his passion to New York City where he was studying musical theatre. I didn’t yet know where my odyssey would take me, but a few surprises were waiting to be revealed.

One day, I showed up innocently for my lesson and my voice teacher announced, “We are doing Evita this summer….” I got the ‘you ARE auditioning' look. 

I looked back. The chorus members dance in Evita. Short of my infamous tap number, I had not truly danced in almost 30 years. Who was he kidding? 

After much tip-toeing around the issue, I finally gave in and went to the audition, knowing I had nothing to lose but my pride. I sang my bit (‘cause I’m a pro at this by now, right?), learned the dance routine with a big group (yup, that was me hiding in the back) and figured that was the end of it. I was now free.

As I was putting on my coat, the choreographer’s assistant pulled me aside and whispered that I was being called back for the second dance call. 

I looked at him like, “Seriously? You are going to make me do the call-back? My original humiliation was not enough?? SERIOUSLY???” (I may have actually said all that with my outside voice.)

He laughed and told me, “We thought you were fun to watch!” 

Something inside me died more than a little, and my stomach rolled over as I realized he was serious. I would actually be dancing in the call-back. Where was my son when I needed him for moral support? Oh, yeah, in New York City following his $@&*%#! dream in musical theater. No help there.

In dread, I returned for the second audition and scanned the room. Every other dancer  was under the age of 25...and perky…in all the ways that 25-year-olds are still perky (harrumph). I used to to be perky when I was 25...25 years ago.

The choreographer, I learned, was Skyping in from Atlanta. The other directors were all seated behind “the table.”  My voice teacher, who would be the musical director for the show, was there as well. I couldn’t look at him because I knew he was laughing. 

The assistant choreographer grinned at me while giving us the instructions. We were to do leaps across the room so “Atlanta” could see our style and technical ability. 

I have no technical ability, so I got in the back of the line in order to copy the dancers in front of me. I studied each one as they leapt across the room, taking mental notes. When it was my turn, those notes floated completely out of my terrified little brain. All that remained was a vague memory of a leap I once did in dance class in 1979. I leapt away, dazzling the directors. Trust me…it was a stunning display.

After this success, I was feeling pretty cocky, until the cherubic assistant announced that the choreographer wanted to see one more round of leaping, again leaper’s choice. All cockiness faded. 

The dancers were now comparing notes. “What leap shall I do?” They were tossing technical terms about like experts. 

I had no terms. I had one leap and they just saw it. That was IT! I was completely out of leaps. The line in front of me was getting shorter. It was almost my turn. What was I going to do??? 

An idea stuck like a bolt of lightning. “You know a leap! You had years of practice doing this leap as a kid. You did it all over the back yard. Leap like a deer!”

So I gathered my giggling self together (Oh God Oh God Oh God) and leapt across the stage like a freakin’ deer. My inner 6-year-old just took over. “You said I was fun to watch...well take this! HA Ha hA ha HA!!!”  There was giggling (probably not just by me).

I left feeling euphoric. This whole ordeal could not have been more humiliating, yet I rose to the occasion with a playful sass I did not know I possessed. 
And I was cast. As a dancer! Granted, I was not one of the premier dancers (thank goodness), but I was a dancer none the less. I had to learn hard choreography that challenged me on every level. I had to buy new dance shoes and fishnet stockings. And the best part of all, the sweetest of the sweet, was that my son was called in from New York to be a dancer as well.​

I was at rehearsal one night learning the routine, and the choreographer actually paired me with my kiddo for a lift, not knowing we were mother and son. There was chuckling amongst the cast, which tipped off the choreographer, who eventually split us up, but I got a delightful laugh out of the whole thing and a picture by the show’s photographer of me being held in my boy’s arms. Twas a moment to remember. In my heart, I keep that picture right by the one where I am holding him as a baby.

Many years have now passed since that beautiful experience, but I recently found myself in an oddly similar situation.  

In last month’s post, I described how Music was bringing a new vibration into my life and, as a result, everything was changing. Just like in that dreaded dance audition, I knew I had no technique to deliver me from the chaos I’d created. ​

While pondering my predicament, I received a message from a musician friend of mine. He had read my blog and was curious to learn how I was enduring my great deconstruction. It turns out he had his own experience with 432 Hz. Having learned about the benefits of this frequency, he had re-tuned all his instruments intending to record an album, but he became so sick that he re-tuned everything back to 440 Hz and cancelled the project. We enjoyed a wonderful phone conversation, compared notes, shared a few good laughs, and concluded that we had both catalyzed a tremendous inner clearing with our intent. The moral of the story? Be careful what you ask for as you just might get it. 

I will confess that my grand cleanse is still continuing, and as yet, has not resolved any of my irritating physical issues. Instead, it bypassed all those pesky human concerns completely and shot straight to the core patterns, the ones that had created my issues in the first place. It enthusiastically weeded my inner garden of things like belief systems and safety programs and long buried emotional traumas. 

I’d asked for freedom - no, I’d begged for it - and I was getting it, but I now felt stunned and raw, and confused about how to move forward. I’d lost the misguided purpose that had once motivated my actions, and was suddenly aware of my addiction to the pain that fed those old identities. I saw how “The One Who Grieved” still stood as a barrier  between me and the new life I equally desired and feared. As a result, I wasn’t truly living, which was the cause of all my symptoms! The energies around me were just lying there dormant, honoring my dance with death. I needed to face the dying process fully so I could accept its gifts and then move on.

What would it take, I wondered to know, really know, that death was an illusion. That even in the face of great endings, there was nothing to fix for myself or for others? What would it take to trust that whatever life brought me was serving me perfectly, always had been, always would? What would it take to love life again, trust in its benevolence, its ever-evolving nature, and let it love me back?  

That, my friends, would be a leap.

Leaping is a funny thing. It requires trust and fearless commitment. If you leap, you cannot hesitate or micromanage your flight. If you do, a picket from that fence below you will likely end up wedged in a most uncomfortable place. Nor can you know before leaping just what will catch you on the other side. The net appears while you are in the air. Perhaps it is better said that your wings emerge as a result of your courage, clarity, and commitment as you become airborne. The act of leaping changes you and creates the emerging result. 

My leap into life became this: I signed up for Crimson Circle’s Dreamwalker Death class. I had wanted to take this intense workshop when it was offered seven months before, but I intuitively knew I wasn’t ready. Now the class was being made available again, and I had used the last seven months to release the gravity that held me anchored to the past. I now felt ready to move forward. 

I discovered I was able to walk through the death realms as a sovereign being. I escorted my beloved mother to the Bridge of Flowers and set her free, finally understanding the eternal connection of our souls. I faced my own death, and given the freedom to leave, fully chose to stay, finally, but on my terms, for the joy. I felt free.

After this experience, I knew passion for life could be mine again. Energy could to serve me in new ways, and it was time to bring it fully into my human life. But how? This was uncharted territory. 

Or was it? I suddenly saw how I had been preparing myself for just this moment.

While some of my creations have turned out better than others, even the bad ones are quite delicious, and the best part is I don’t really care what happens. I am having so much fun! I feel like a kid playing in the mud when I am baking, transformed into a fearless, joyful 6-year-old. 

If you watch little kids play, you realize they don’t have stories that weigh them down. They are curious and willing to try things. They don’t judge themselves as unworthy of success. They don’t even care if their visions are possible or not. They surely don’t worry about what other people think. They are just having fun in the moment, and the outcome doesn’t matter. What a concept.​

The way forward became clear. When I played with the dough, I was acting “as if” I was already a baker, and the energies carried me forward joyfully. I just engaged the process of creation. I didn’t try to control it or protect myself. I trusted that each step would lead me to the next one, even if the results were totally unexpected (which sometimes they were). I didn’t have an agenda. I knew that whatever happened was in perfect service to me and my desire to bake, so the whole process was joyful. It was all a grand experience.

​It had been so long, and I was so very excited! I had a new guitar (at least new to me), and Music, my long lost love, was calling to me again. I didn’t expect to suddenly sound like a diva, play like a rock star, and join the ranks of the rich and famous. No, that was never the goal. I did, however, harbor the illusion that this would be a blooming time, one of sweet reunion and celebration.​

For those of you following my journey, you will not be surprised to learn this isn’t exactly what happened…but what did happen surprised me.
​

Rudolph Steiner (1861-1925) said, “Music based on C=128 Hz (C note in concert A=432 Hz) will support humanity on its way towards spiritual freedom. The inner ear of the human being is built on C=128 Hz.”
​https://wakeup-world.com/2015/08/26/the-a432-hz-frequency-dna-tuning-and-the-bastardization-music/

I decided to compare the tunings for myself while I was in Hawaii, and I noticed that music played in 440 Hz felt more mental. The energies centered around my head. When I experienced music tuned to 432 Hz, the notes resonated through my whole body. I also found it easier to sing songs in 432 Hz as the lower more resonant tuning created less strain on my vocal cords.  ​

I know from personal experience the potent healing effect of Music. When I sang to my Mother during her illness, the music mitigated our fears and created a safe space for her transition. I started to become deeply curious. Would changing the tuning of my songs to 432 Hz help facilitate my own challenging integration? The tingles I felt told me I was on to something. I left the island eager to explore this and maybe even write and record songs again.
​

I wasn’t home a week when everything started to change. As I shared in my last post, our home experienced a series of electrical, heating, and plumbing issues upon our return. Well, my body started rocking too. Everything hurt, and I knew it wasn’t from the physical labor I had done in Hawaii. A cellular change was underway, and I felt bone weary.  

When my shipping box arrived holding my Hawaiian guitar, I was so excited to open the box, but when I did, I received an unwelcome surprise. The guitar didn’t feel as resonant with me. How could this be?

I took her on a road trip and nothing flowed. Nothing at all. As I held her against me, I could feel her pull back a bit. She had completed her service to me, she was telling me. To move forward, I would need another instrument, one with a different vibration.  

My mind had a lot to say about this: “Another instrument? Really??? Don’t you LOVE the guitar you brought home from Hawaii? She was a very expensive instrument, and you spent even more to ship her home. And oh, by the way, a new top-of-the-line guitar is going to cost a lot of money! Seriously, a LOT of money!! Get a grip, girlfriend. Why can’t you be satisfied with what you have?”  

I knew the money malarkey was psycho-babble. I had plenty of money to buy a new guitar. The real issue wasn’t money at all, it was self-worth. Did I honestly feel I deserved a brand new remarkable instrument? Just the thought of this made me nervous. To give myself such a gift I would have to trust myself…enough to bring down the barrier I’d erected between Music and me.  Could I allow the energies to flow without restriction?  ​

Well…now we were getting down to it.

Music creates.  It can balance and expand us. It’s frequency can also be distorted to create an illusion of limitation. I realized that in some other time and place, I had used Music as a power tool. Sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll, baby. Sorcery, hypnosis, and black magic. This deep dive had created much suffering and, as a result, I’d cut myself off from Music as a punishment. My experience had also created great wisdom, but to receive it I needed to forgive myself and bring down the wall. 

Within a week of this understanding, I bought a brand new guitar. I traded in the one I had purchased as a gift from my mother. I felt her smiling at me when I did this.  

Then I sold my two older instruments, honoring the commitment I’d made months before.  They’d been long-time friends and it was surprisingly painful to let them go; but in doing so, I learned they were tied to me by more than mere memories. I am evidently quite the sorceress as I’d placed spells on those instruments to hold myself in check. When I released the guitars, my body literally shook as the energies were freed. I also heard the joyful laughter of the wise Master within. I confess, it was all rather shocking.

For now, my Hawaiian guitar will be my travel companion. We will go on road trips and camping excursions together, and that feels right to both of us. (She is with me right now on a road trip as I write this, and she is a great comfort to me.)  ​

The new instrument has a different purpose. Her sound rings with the vibrations of evolution. I will tell you, she is very beautiful. The body woods (Bear Claw Sitka Spruce and Macassar Ebony) are fierce, and her tone is incredibly potent and pure.
​

​I suspected she was the right instrument for me when I saw her picture on-line. Playing her for the first time in the store, I was convinced; but humorously, Joe (who had come with me to offer an objective pair of ears) was not. He looked at me with confusion. “It doesn’t quite fit you,” he said. I reminded him that I didn’t want an instrument that fit my current expression - I wanted one that would help me get where I was going to go. “Ah!” he exclaimed, “Well, then, that one will get the job done!” And I must confess, my new friend is challenging me at every level of my musicianship. Songs I’d performed for years can no longer be played the same old way on this guitar. When I try to do so, they just sound wrong. 

I started asking each song how it wants to be expressed, and then I experimented. I tried different keys and chord progressions. I learned new picking and strumming patterns. I simplified and refined my phrasing, searching for the right tone and emotional delivery. I changed the way I listened; and this, in retrospect, was the whole point!  ​

In the midst of my repertoire’s reinvention, I was drawn to reread Victor Wooten’s magical tale, The Music Lesson: A Spiritual Search for Growth Through Music (Berkley Books, New York, 2006). I gathered a quote from pages 3-4 in this book and used it to start this post. Victor, who is a renowned Nashville bassist, shares his story of how Music spoke to him, and through various teachers and experiences, taught him to listen to Her in a whole new way.

Years ago, when I read this book for the first time, I didn’t understand what Victor was talking about. This time, I got it!  Music was now talking to me, and I was listening very carefully. As a result, my songs were not the only thing being reimagined.
​

When the dust finally settled, I saw things with a shocking new clarity.

I realized first that my most treasured identities were all based on duality. I’d created personas that thrived on resistance - battles of good versus evil and light versus dark. Ironically, both sides of the spectrum were so fearful and controlling as to be almost indistinguishable from each other. Surely my puritanical perfectionist had caused as much trauma as any of my dark aspects.

Next it dawned on me that whenever I ran away from one extreme, especially in a blind fervor, I inevitably went full-circle and became what I was running from! Likewise, if I resisted something, I attracted it right into my experience. Could this be because (gasp) it really just wanted my acceptance?​

In the end, I realized there was nothing I wasn’t, therefore, there was nothing I needed to protect myself from! The battle for or against anything was a complete illusion and the fight was drained of all meaning. I knew  that the only thing that stood between me and grace was my own darn beliefs! So the joke was on me. I laughed about this for days when I finally saw it. It was grim humor, but it was humor none-the-less.
​

This is when I stumbled on a video by Gregg Braden.  Gregg has created quite a career bridging the gap between science and spirituality, and in this video he discusses quantum physics and creation. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=rNiDKv5OSEg 

New science, he informed us, is revealing that matter is not solid or continuous because the quanta that creates the atoms emits brief bursts of light so our forms are essentially re-made with each burst. We can change our reality by changing the filter through which this light shines. I will paraphrase this and say, we can change our reality by changing the beliefs that filter how we perceive our potentials. A harmonious compassionate perspective can create harmonious compassionate forms.

Gregg explained that everything that will ever exist is present within the quantum field of potentials, and everything is entangled there with everything else. We draw our potentials to us from the field through our own thoughts and feelings, which are electrical and magnetic and communicate with the quantum field.

Then he explained that our heart has a bio-magnetic field that is 5000 times stronger than that of our brain, and the heart’s electrical field is 100 times stronger. Our heart's resonance is strong enough to entrain the brain into coherence. When the heart and mind are harmonious, we bring compassion into our awareness and into the quantum field. When we are in coherence, we sense our entanglement with all our potentials. We gain insight through intuition. We transcend time and space. We change the shape of our DNA. We effect matter all around us and it responds to our resonance.  ​

If we are coherent, we expect benevolence. When we bump into a battle (whether it is in our health, abundance, relationships, or self-worth), we can know it for what it is - the ghost of an old belief in separation - and we can choose to let it go, shift our perception to coherence, and allow energy to serves us with benevolence.

There are a few tricky bits to this in my experience. If we look at our bodies or at our human circumstances, and focus on the same old undesirable reality, we can get stuck. The gravity of what we believe is true will suck us back into the mire in an instant.

​The key is to not fight what we see. If we fight, our focus gets locked in and the gravity grows. We have to let the weight go, as if it was never ours to begin with, and with great clarity choose to feel the love vibration in our heart, regardless of what our eyes show us. We have to radiate that benevolence as a creative act without attaching a goal to the outcome, knowing that whatever comes, whether it is an ending or a beginning (for in truth, they are the same thing) serves us perfectly. In a way, we have to let go of everything we know and feel our way forward into a mystery. This takes clarity. It takes commitment. It takes courage. And we must do it over and over, regardless of how much our minds scream, until the gravity finally lets go.  
​

I now recognize Music is one of the greatest communicators of my divine benevolent frequency. She carries the vibration of compassion and helps bring my thoughts into coherence with my heart. I have felt her re-arrange my human perceptions, and through this, have experienced a great truth:  Music is part of my soul essence. I am not merely to perform Music, I am to become Her vessel and allow the Song of My Soul to play through me.​

Victor Wooten said that Music is not contained in any instrument but is brought forth by the musician. I've learned that in our highest expression, we can radiate color and light and sound, not to perfect the old human and its stories, but to celebrate them, integrate them, and create something entirely new.
​

Music brought me back to myself. Her resonance is chasing away the shadow that has dogged me all my life. I can now feel ME, the me that I remembered in Hawaii as Kea, the me that was never ever trapped in my human illusion of suffering. By some miracle of quantum physics, I can feel the me that I was when I was young, the me that I am right now, and the me that is evolving out of this epic transformation. This new transcendent me is showing me how I will become her. Isn’t that something? Sometimes I can feel all of these me’s at the same time, and sense my wisdom flowing out like Music into every other lifetime I have ever had.  

Surreal? You betcha. 

Chaotic? Yup. On the best of days.

Beautiful? Unbelievably so. ​

What comes next? I have absolutely no idea…but I can feel it.  

When I rushed off stage, gleefully to have survived, I sought out David to celebrate with him.  He was in the show as well, and I expected to find him in the dressing rooms.  I was told he was hiding somewhere backstage where he could not hear me.  Evidently he was so nervous he couldn’t stand it!  (I find this hysterical, and payback for all the performances of his that I endured as a nervous mother.)  I tracked him down and told him that the “party panties” worked again.  It was a sweet moment indeed.​

This epic break-through led to many other performances in many other shows - I even sang German in an opera!  I eventually created a folk duo with a friend of mine, called Crystal River.  We sang lovely flowing harmonies, and I got to play my guitar and debut some of my own compositions.  Mind you, I would never claim to be a great talent, but I was having a really great time!
​

Sadly, this was not meant to last.  When I moved to Colorado a few years later, I could not resurrect my music.  Public performing had liberated me, but it was evidently no longer serving my evolution.  In fact everything in my life was unwinding and releasing.  It was time to enter the sacred void and allow a total re-imagining.  

During this time I did occasionally play for myself and for my loved ones.  I would serenade Joe when he cooked dinner for me, and I would take my guitar on camping outings.  Then, when my mom became ill, I played for her.  

Something magical happened when I played for my mother.  She relaxed, and the energy in the room changed.  The fear surrounding disease and death dissolved.  Even the nurses commented on it.  Mom told me she was hearing my compositions in a way she never did before.  The lyrics moved her deeply, and she told me I should write more music.  I had not written anything for years.  

After she transitioned, I bought a new guitar (a final gift from her to me).  I hoped to jump start my musical expression with this purchase, but it wasn’t the right instrument, and it wasn't the right time.  Playing it, I only felt sadness.  The void was not done with me yet.  ​

Years passed.  Then this last October, I went to Hawaii…
​

After three months of travel, it is wonderful to be home, but I confess, everything feels different to me. I think this is because I am different, and still awakening to what is unfolding.

Since our return home, Joe and I have been in a perpetual daze, stumbling about with aches and pains and fuzzy brains. Yes, we worked hard in Hawai’i and earned a few sore muscles, but the stiffness that endures hints at cellular changes. We feel over-stimulated, disoriented, and very disconnected from the holiday hubbub.

After bravely enduring a four-hour supply run into Denver, we hunkered into our little retreat for some deeply needed peace and quiet. Our home seems hidden away and somehow invisible amidst all the blinking and swirling laser lights that surround us. I guess laser is the new holiday trend? We are contrarians. The stillness of the season blankets our home this holiday. We created an island of refuge for some deep integration. Hawai’i was big for us.​

I shared some of my experiences with you last month, but there were other deeply personal ones I have yet to speak of, and I’ve been wondering how to put them into words, or if I should speak of them at all. Many people from all walks of life read this blog. Would they relate, or consider what I say to be too bizarre? Is it of service to others to share? Would it be of service to me?

I felt into my knowing, and it became clear. This is the season of miracles. I will share the gift I received, which is a real potential for others as well, and let the readers decide if they wish to open to these possibilities, knowing whatever they decide is right for them. Let me set the stage with a story...one told in a recent Disney movie.
​

The story is told that the demigod Maui, in a misguided effort to gift humanity, stole and lost the heart of the Goddess, Te Fiti. The heart holds the power to create life, and as a result of Maui’s actions, the Polynesian islands began to fade and die.

A daughter is eventually born to a Polynesian chieftain, one who will become the next leader of her people. She is named Moana, after the sea. When Moana is a young girl, her namesake calls to her, and delivers to her the heart of Te Fiti, for the ocean has chosen her to find Maui and with him return the heart to the mother island and renew Polynesia.

The journey Moana and Maui undertake is filled with peril, for to succeed they must face the Fire Demon, Te Ka, and their own great doubts. ​

In the climax of the story, Moana arrives at the mother island and....(skip ahead past the video until after the quote below if you have not yet seen the movie and don’t want to spoil the fun)

I have crossed the horizon to find you...
I know your name.
They have stolen the heart from inside you,
But this does not define you.
This is not who you are.
You know who you are…

There once lived a precious soul who was a grand creator being. She was an expansive artist, creating with abandon. Energy was drawn to her, and it flowed from her as color and music and light. She was a creator in her own right, and so she could bring things to life. She helped to prepare Lemuria for human habitation, in the very place where the Hawaiian islands now stand. ​

This lovely soul wanted to experience life on the planet she had so joyfully helped design. From her passion flowed forth many expressions, aspects of herself, that dove deep into physical experience, but these aspects went so deep into form that they forgot who they were. They did not remember that the spark of the artist was inside them.

There were many other aspects, expressions of other grand beings, and they experienced a similar forgetting. Eventually, all of these various expressions began to play together in the density.

​Because they did not know who they were, they lacked wisdom. They created unconsciously, and their creations became distorted, filled with density and focus and chaos. These were grand experiences to be sure, but they were very limited and dualistic, and created the illusion of need. As a result, the aspects began stealing energy from each other, which put in motion a karmic cycle that spiraled down into the deepest darkest depths and repeated lifetime after lifetime.

One day, our lovely creator being brought forth yet another expression of herself, one who was designed to remember her true identity as a great creator being...if she so chose. This aspect was born into a very loving American family after the Second World War, at a time when humanity was about to begin its great evolution.
​

​As she matured, her intuition opened and began to guide her, and then one day she was ready to face the fire and call it by its name. She found the courage to witness her shadow, release it, and restore her own creative heart. ​

As she did this, the life she knew, which had been built on the old karmic foundation, began to fall away. She lost loved ones. She learned of endings. She allowed death, and so transcended it, and finally entered the void that holds the seeds for all new beginnings.

​She is later reminded that her name is part of the term "Kea-hak," which Adamus Saint-Germain uses to describe the creative dance of energy in motion in service to the radiance of Spirit. It describes the principle of new energy creation.

​Kea. It is no small name.

The woman ponders what it would be like to be such a creator once again. As she says her name out loud, she feels the tingle of a truth being remembered. Something insider her opens and energy starts flowing through her in a new way. Her crazy human self remains, but now, there is also something else…something expansive underneath the human facade, and it is vibrating within her

She starts knowing things in a strange circular way. Her thoughts stop being linear. Some days her mind has trouble working and it is difficult to find words for what she wants to express.

Her physical body still appears chaotic, but when she senses into her cells, they seem transparent and luminous. The body she sees in the mirror, with all its quirks and issues, feels like an illusion. With humor, she realizes she has been holding on to her old form like a child clutches a beloved, but frayed and worn, "blankie.” She laughs, knowing she will eventually release her focus and allow the new sovereign body to emerge.

All of these awarenesses drop in as she renews and prepares the Villa, which in itself is quite the metaphor. The daily tasks keep her mind distracted so it doesn’t interfere. The physical labor eases the new flow of energy through her body. In this flow, old limiting stories rise up so she can let them go. She sees how she protects herself out of habit and how this is no longer unnecessary. She revises her relationship with her partner and with her own body. If she feels overwhelmed, she chooses more ease and grace, and immediately the energies begin to realign. Help and support start showing up in the most amazing ways.

Then, with surprise, she notices that each time she releases a limiting pattern, the Villa expands as well! Places that once felt dense and congested start to open up. Smells fade away. There is a freshening. Things begin to sparkle. The outer creation is mirroring her inner transformation. Yes, something amazing is being born.

When her time at the Villa is complete, the woman and her partner leave with joy, knowing they completed their part. Others will now offer their service. She sets her creation free.

She still feels a deep connection to Hawai’i. There is a place now, above the mountain that shares her name, that she can visit at will. She can send her consciousness there whenever she yearns to feel the pure salt air or the waves of creation she helped put in motion.

Joe is a master of many trades, and this project has been great fun for him. Each day he greets the morning with a gleeful grin and, after a strong cup of coffee, rushes out to put on his manly construction apron and play. I, on the other hand, usually roll out of bed limping and groaning, wondering what scary power tool or ladder I will have to conquer today (but secretly quite proud of my expanding abilities - just don’t tell anyone I said so). We’ve been putting in long hours and I have the new muscles and bruises to prove it! ​

But lest you think I am seeking pity, let me tell you that I am writing this right now as I look at this:

​As I approached her home, I saw the many lava flows that built this island, raising it more than 30 thousand feet from the ocean floor. These flows destroyed forests and homes, yet each time the lava flowed, the island expanded.

Pele taught me that Death, the very force that seems to obliterate Life, actually regenerates it, for Death frees energies trapped in form allowing them to evolve. Life then becomes a series of experiences and is constantly being renewed. ​

One of my favorite travel/food shows is I’ll Have What Phil’s Having hosted by Phil Rosenthal who was the writer for Everybody Loves Raymond.  Phil has a rapier wit that he disarms with  charm and boyish enthusiasm.  He loves having new experiences and is a great observer of life.

I started traveling the world with Phil from my couch about a year ago.  I was a curious if somewhat cynical voyeur until Phil traveled to the Umbrian countryside in Italy.  That episode ended with a gathering of friends sitting at a big outdoor table enjoying extraordinary food and companionship.  At sunset, a vigorous Italian butcher who had grilled the evening’s meal quoted Dante.  The wine was flowing.  The mood was magical.   Something in my heart cracked and tears started to flow.  A deep yearning was born in me to go to Italy and live the sensual life.  I didn’t want to see the Italy that most tourists see.  I wanted the back-door experience that one finds in the homes of locals, and I wanted it with a passion that surprised me.  I wanted to know what it was like to live as an Italian.​
​

It did not take me long to realize that Italy is a land of paradoxes.  The sunlight is soft and warm, and the land bucolic.  Rural Italy seduces you with sensuous, gracious living; but this slow pace is punctuated by bursts of speed and power.  Italians talk fast.  Their body language is often assertive, and their driving is legendarily aggressive.  Motorcyclists will fly between you and neighboring cars and then burn through a red light as if they have a death wish, and do it with Style (note the capital S). 

Italian gentility is undergirded with authority.  There are rules and expectations, and they are not always spoken.  The influence of the Catholic Church is palpable.  Italian men command respect.  The old women you meet on the street corners are fierce.  The young women are lionesses.  Even the villas remind me of grand dames who are worn but timeless, and wise to their beauty and power.  ​

Italy has a proud and elegant face, and a tough impatient one.  You never know which side you will get.  I find the animals here often mirror this.  They can be charming and enjoy being petted, but they may bite you if you don’t do it the proper way.

My first visit was to San Gimignano.  I did not know the city’s history, nor my own past life experiences there, but when I entered the medieval walls I experienced a rush of terror and a great feeling of being trapped.  I was one breath away from a full-blown panic attack, but once I named the feeling, honored it, and chose to go beyond it, my anxiety faded and I had a wonderful afternoon.  Later, upon returning to the city for a second visit, I felt the fear rise again, though this time it was significantly muted.  

I then read up on the city’s history and was not surprised to learn about the epic power games and infighting that took place there, and how the population was devastated by the black plague.  Though I know no details, my human history in San Gimignano was truly horrifying, and I realized those experiences inspired a deep-seated fear of authority and a need for safety that had influenced my choices to this day.  ​

It was time to call myself fully into the present moment and move beyond old fears.

Once the workshops were completed, Joe and I retreated to the rural countryside of Umbria for rest and integration.  Our time there was very revealing.  Certain things we had hoped to experience there did not come to pass, and I kept humorously bumping up against my projections and expectations.  Each disappointment showed me that if I wanted to receive the good stuff in life I had to first give my love to myself, and each instance revealed where I wasn’t yet doing so.  I was still playing out the stories of my Soul aspects that I had visited in Italy. 

All of those aspects were creating their experiences of separation.  All that experience was being distilled into the great wisdom of my Soul.  I had been trying to save those aspects, running their pain through my body, but their pain was never and will never be mine.  All that is mine is that beautiful wisdom, now melding with the compassion in my pure and loving heart.  This is who I Am.

With this, I bring my story full-circle.  

As our time in Italy came to an end, we were invited to lunch by the owners of the villa where we were staying.  Upon arriving I saw it was a gathering of old friends, people from different countries who had vacationed in Umbria, fell in love with the land and each other, and purchased second homes to savor the good life in community.  ​

I found myself sitting at a table in a gazebo, eating pasta with pesto and vegetables fresh from the garden, enjoying a fine local fish with lemons from the orchard, eating a gorgeous simple salad, and reveling in a cake covered with peaches that were harvested that morning.  We were all toasting each other, drinking wine the color of the golden Italian sun.  We were sharing conversation in Italian, German, English, and body language.
​

​I paused for a moment to take it all in and realization washed over me…I was having my I’ll Have What Phil’s Having moment!!!  Here was my dream come to life…the one that brought me to tears and carried me all the way across the Atlantic Ocean.  I choked on my wine.  It was absolutely magical.

Now I confess, I didn’t see this creation coming.  Short of saying "yes" to the invitation to come to Italy and following my intuition on where to stay, I had not taken any goal-oriented action steps toward making this dream a reality. 

It came to me when I was distracted by my own integration after the workshops.  It came camouflaged by my own crazy thoughts like, “I have a headache…do we really have to go have lunch with people we don’t know?”  And "How will I understand the conversation, because I only speak English?”  I felt tired and cranky and was out of my element, but it came despite my whining.  ​

It came with a wave, a wink, and a smile, on messy human/angel wings, and it brought me a tremendous awareness:  My gosh, if I can create this so effortlessly, I can create ANYTHING!  I really AM a creator!  Surely where I place the spark of my passion, something new will inevitably be born.  (A renaissance, indeed.)

Granted, there was no Italian butcher present to quote Dante, so I guess that task is left to me. I leave you now with this:
​

A mighty flame followeth a tiny spark.
🔥🌟🔥​
Remember tonight…for it is the beginning of always.

— Dante Alighieri --

The appearance of a screaming clown is shocking.  It throws us off balance.  We often go into resistance or denial.  Sometimes or our fear is so great that we collapse into the role of the victim.  

What we often don’t realize is that the clown is in service to us.  He is jumping up and down to get our attention.  He wants us to see that we created him and, therefore, can un-create him.  His ultimate gift to us is opened when we realize we are never a victim, but to receive this gift, we have to take responsibility for what we create.  Then we can create something new.​

The first step I take is to stop fighting the clown’s presence.  I may not like him, but fighting with him never works.  Neither does running from him.  What I resist persists.  So I say hello to the clown and I acknowledge that he is there, and that he exists because I called him forth.
​

As any theater person knows, tragedy and comedy are closely linked together.  So when a clown appears, I know that humor is automatically built into the dynamic.  I just have to shift my perspective to find it.  

Taking responsibility for my creation is the key to finding the humor.  Granted, this humor is usually a bit dark and twisted and filled with irony, but at the very least I can usually laugh at the fact that I so effectively created my very worst nightmare when I seemingly could create nothing else.  ​

Humor is liberating.  If you can laugh, you cannot remain a victim.  

When I can finally chuckle, the clown no longer has my full attention.  I can blur my perception of him even more by breathing calmly and going inside me.   The clown might still be there jumping and screaming, and I’m not denying his presence, but I’ve found within me a clown-proof place.  This place is still and eternal, and no clown can enter.  I can sit there quietly, knowing nothing is really wrong, and still be aware of the clown.  They exist simultaneously.​

It takes practice to sit in this space, and it helps a lot if you can learn the path to it when there are no screaming clowns present.  It is much harder to find a feeling of eternal safety when there is drama in your life, but once you know the path to your safe space it is always available to you.  If you use it regularly, you will find it has some remarkable side effects.  For example, I’ve gone to this safe space within when I am in physical pain, and if I can sit in my awareness of being safe while I feel the pain simultaneously, my body will start to rebalance automatically and the pain will eventually fade away.  It might take a few hours of continuous practice, but I have released migraines this way.  I know it works on bigger issues as well, but I must hold the knowingness consistently or the effects are temporary.  If I know myself as already safe and free, then freedom and safety become my reality.  To have this I have to consistently choose it.  When fear rises again (which it still does), I get yet another chance to choose what I want to focus upon.  Each time I successfully redirect to my safe space I make the new operating system stronger.  Eventually it will become my consistent reality.   

This seems like it would be easy, that we would actually celebrate this part, yet it is ironically the most challenging.  At least it has been so for me.  Why you ask?  It is because I’ve been attached to what created the clown.  I may not want the clown himself, but I am attached to the beliefs and identities and stories that brought the clown into being.  When I sit in my safe eternal space, all these things start to loosen and release, and darn it, if I don’t find myself grabbing onto them and clinging the moment they start to leave.  They are comfortable.  Who would I be without them?  Do I really want my freedom or am I still enjoying the drama on some twisted level?

Death is a necessary part of rebirth, yet most of us avoid endings like we avoid the plague.  To make it worse, there is a void state that traditionally follows a release.  There is a period of limbo before the new thing emerges, and this is even more uncomfortable than the letting go.  

When we release a big clown, many many stories go with him.  There will be an unraveling and it will reach into unexpected parts of our lives.  Many other things will leave because they resonated to the same vibrational pattern, and this is invariably shocking.  We rarely see this coming.  

Allowing such surprising deconstruction takes enormous trust.  I’ve learned there is a wisdom guiding my renewal, and I am best served by letting it have its way with me.  When my relationships ended and roles fell away, my body started behaving oddly, or I lost my passion, each change created the space for something new.  

Every clown I’ve faced (and there have been some doozies) came in service to my freedom.  Each time honored the clown, took responsibility for creating him, and simultaneously managed to sit in my safe space witnessing his antics, I expanded.  Eventually I realized that nothing can ever separate me from my eternal nature.  It is always available to me, no matter how many clowns I choose to dance with.​

So whatever challenge is before you (natural disaster, illness, financial security, loss of trust in systems, relationship issues, identity crisis, fill in the blank…) it is there in service to you.  It is there to help you realize your freedom.