My Story — The Soul’s Thread
Wholeness
As a child, I was lucky enough to live close to the earth — listening to land, to silence, to what moves beneath the surface of things. I knew myself through relationship — to earth, to self, and to something sacred. Rooted in Celtic ancestry, I felt reverence for nature and the feminine.
Rupture
At fourteen, that world broke apart. My sister and her daughter were killed in a plane crash, days after the death of my grandmother — three generations of women, suddenly gone. In its wake, my mother never recovered from sorrow and my father turned to alcohol and volatility. The losses remained ungrieved and unspoken. The safety and support I had known vanished.
The feminine line in my family fractured. Grief went underground.
Outward years
As I grew older, I began searching for what had been lost. I threw myself into social-justice work in my community and internationally during a period of upheaval in the U.S. Helping to heal social wounds mattered to me, but it was also a way of avoiding my own.
I began working day and night in demanding work environments, without tending to myself. I felt numb and in overdrive at the same time. Outwardly, I was seen as competent. Inwardly, I felt betrayed and unworthy. In my personal life, I chose harmful relationships, repeating trauma patterns that reflected the hurt inside.
My health deteriorated and autoimmune issues surfaced. I became suicidal and knew I was in trouble. The first step was to find a therapist.
The Turning
I began working with a psychotherapist grounded in Buddhist meditation. I spent two years in concentrated meditation practice. For the first time, I found the courage to go inward and stop running from myself. Sorrow began to release. My heart began to heal.
Later, I lived and worked in a remote area of Diné (Navajo) reservation, within a traditional community, where connection to earth and spirit was still deeply woven into ritual and cultural life. Grief was held collectively, life transitions were honored, and balance was restored through kinship and ceremonial life. I found strength in the matriarchal presence — something I had not known before.
Eventually I returned to care for my parents before their passing. In their fragility, a form of reconciliation took place. At the same time, I began to paint, immersing myself in the beauty of nature through color and form. The earth herself became medicine — creative expression as a reclaiming of the feminine.
Feminine Ancestral Return
After the death of my parents, I moved to Mexico — and found an unexpected healing salve. The feminine was honored, woven into daily life through the devotion of Guadalupe and the warmth of extended family.
Then, an unmistakable ancestral pull took me to Galicia in northwestern Spain to listen for what shaped my people before migration — Celtic roots and feminine wisdom long buried. I lived in intimacy with the land and sea that revealed memory, resilience, and grief waiting for reconciliation — so I could finally rest. I felt a profound belonging to the ancient threads of my lineage — something I could not name, but deeply felt. The feminine line I had spent my life wishing to heal was now felt as continuity — in love and loss — carried through lifetimes — in life and death.
Integration
What I didn’t see at first in this lifelong journey was that the transformational nature of the heart was the thread — present in every tradition, at every turning point. Not as sentiment, but as the place where truth, healing, and wholeness are found.
Whether in indigenous wisdom, the mystical streams of early Christianity, Vedic traditions, or the direct experience of breath and meditation — it was always there. I came to understand that higher states of consciousness — born from an open heart — are available through many different disciplines and accessible to anyone ready to turn toward the heart. The heart is more resilient and powerful than we imagine.
Ultimately, healing is not just about finding relief or insight. It is a journey that matures into wisdom — and what once felt fractured can unify.