My Story — The Soul’s Thread
Wholeness
As a child I was 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. Life was interconnected and alive.
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 were gone. In its wake, my mother never recovered from sorrow and my father turned to alcohol and volatility. The safety and support I had known was lost.
The feminine line in my family fractured. There was no place for grief to land, so it 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 also found healing in the strong matriarchal presence I witnessed, that I had never known in my own family or culture.
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 flowering beauty of nature through color and form. The earth herself became medicine—creative expression as a reclaiming of the feminine.
I came to see that what heals is connection—to my own heart, to body, to land, to ancestry, to others, and to spirit.
Feminine Ancestral Return
After the death of my parents, I moved to Mexico, married, and became steeped in the heart-centered ways of Mexican culture. I discovered Guadalupe, as part of the Christian mysticism of Mexico, to be woven into daily life, and an expression of the nurturing feminine. Extended family ties were strong and supportive, and the feminine was not erased, but honored through ritual and devotion.
An unmistakable ancestral pull, then took me to Galicia in northwestern Spain to listen for what shaped my people before migration — Celtic roots, mystic Christianity, and feminine wisdom long buried. I lived in intimacy with the land and sea that revealed memory, resilience, and grief waiting for recognition 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 trying to heal was now felt as continuity – in love and loss – carried through lifetimes – in life and death.
Integration
I came to understand that healing is not just about finding relief or insight. It’s a journey that matures into embodied wisdom. As fragmentation moves into wholeness, the heart reveals itself as a center of intelligence—an inner illuminator. What once felt fractured can unify, anchored in a deeper source within. An illumined heart radiates its light outward, bringing coherence and quietly touching all those around it.