But denial is not an action plan. We process denial so that we can take steps forward in response to what is happening in our lives. No matter how small, these steps are significant. It is all too easy to embrace denial as a lifestyle and remain stuck in anger/regret/guilt, justifying this vantage point with repressed grief. It is ironic to me that when we try to rush the process, we actually remain stuck. The quicksand is the elusive "but this wasn't supposed to be."

I have seen this at play in the group courses I have been leading for the past year and a half as well. Sometimes people come into the courses and say, "I'm not intuitive at all," or "I'm a little bit intuitive, but not like you." And in a couple months, as curiosity and asking questions replaces a fixed identity, these same people start hearing the Divine or find themselves guided more in their daily lives. There is great freedom in curiosity. What do you love right now? What sparks your interest?

“What are you really seeking?
Let's be real--you don't grow sitting in an easy chair. Sometimes I get people complaining that this path is so hard, and to that, I say, ‘every path is hard.’ It is hard to grow and change, and it is also hard to not grow and change.

For most of us, growth doesn't occur when we are comfortable. We have to be uncomfortable enough that moving into the unknown feels more comfortable than the known.

It's a phrase that comes out of my mouth regularly in sessions. Usually, I'm speaking to someone who is replaying a situation from years ago, trying to find the exact moment where everything went "wrong." Or they're listing all the ways someone else should have behaved differently so their life would be "better." They're not really talking about the past. They're avoiding grief.

Anger has been up for people. I don't mean anger at little inconveniences, but rather something bigger and more primal. It's like the women of this world are fed up with the old ways--they are done with always being nice, running around behind other people and making things work--and they are mad about it. They are roaring for the world to hear. They are the lionesses. They are beckoning in new patterns, new processes, new ways of being.

I’ve been reflecting lately on my resistance and eventual surrender to this path. As a child, I knew that I was sensitive. I could feel people in ways others couldn’t. I had spirits come to me at night, whispering in my ears. At the age of eight, my family was in a bad car accident, and as I saw the car barreling into the side of our car, I was taken out of my body and watched the accident from above.