Month: April 2025

This morning, I took a walk in Prospect Park in San Marcos, Texas with two close women friends.  We walked the trail paved with small gravel and reached a clearing with a sundial.  Nearby, I noticed a circle of benches in the shade around a live oak that my friend, who lives near here, called the “Learning Tree”. The mesquite leaves glowed green-gold in the spring sun, and the sun filtered through them. A quiet voice within whispered, and I recognized that this place held potential for something sacred. I took pictures, imagining future women’s retreats and forest therapy sessions, feeling the stirrings of a vision I hadn’t fully put into words.

On the walk back to my friend’s house, we felt inclined to wander into a shed belonging to a local artist where he displayed his paintings for sale via the honor system and online payment. There it was: a painting that mirrored exactly what I’d seen on the walk. The same golden light through trees. The same energy. As if Spirit had placed a visual altar before me. Without hesitation, I bought it. I was claiming the vision, grounding it into my reality.

That same evening, I attended a sound healing with Mai-Anh and Catalina, two powerful women I’d connected with recently. The sound journey was hosted in the upstairs studio room above a juice shop, with white walls, twinkling lights, and full-length windows that allowed us to see the trees outside, branches waving in the wind. Natasha had met me there and was at my side during the experience. Catalina opened the experience by reading a poem to us from her book “A Call to Awaken”. We were laying on full length cushions with pillow for our heads and lumbar area, blankets to put over us, and eye masks to cover our eyes.  At the beginning of the session, Catalina gave us drops of her custom oil blend “Surrender” to place on our pelvic cradles. While Mai-Anh was playing the singing bowls, Catalina went by each of the 12 participants and performed a micro energy session on them.

When it was my turn, Catalina silently placed oil on my ears and shoulders, and I felt a warm rush—like something ancient being activated. Her placement was intentional: near my throat chakra and at the top of my lungs, places tied to voice, breath, and truth. My gifts of communication were being gently awakened. As she performed the energy session, I slipped into a vision. I found myself standing before a great, ancient oak tree. Drawn to its hollow trunk, I stepped inside. It was vast, like a womb, but I felt strangely alone—isolated from others. When I emerged, I saw a circle of women around a fire. They called to me. I joined them. With this step into the fire circle, I felt my energy shift, and I felt Catalina move away to work on the next person.

This vision was more than imagination. It was a message. The tree was a symbol of my solitary wisdom, my grounding. But the fire—the fire was community, transformation, shared energy. Spirit was showing me: I’m no longer meant to walk this path alone. I am being invited into leadership within the collective. A priestess of the fire, not just the forest.

I drifted off into a state of complete relaxation physically while my mind wandered mentally. As the sound journey continued, another vision came. Two concentric circles of women sat facing each other—one representing the physical body, the other the energetic body. Each pair held a question related to a chakra and an affirmation to anchor the energy. I watched myself guiding the group, leading a heart meditation from the center. It was vivid, detailed—less a dream and more a transmission.

I knew immediately this was more than a vision. It was a blueprint—a workshop, a ritual, a ceremony waiting to be birthed.

At some point towards the end, my energy shifted again. My right foot felt heavy, tethered to the earth. I sensed an ancestral presence and received a message: “Your grandfather’s mother’s line.” My Celtic heritage. There is healing to do there—wisdom to uncover. I made a note to explore it further. As the session closed, I felt tingling from crown to root—like energy aligning through my spine.

I ended the night by pulling oracle and tarot cards. The same card has appeared three times this past week in readings: Leap. Over and over. Take the leap. You’re ready.

I also pulled Anna, Grandmother of Jesus, a card of sacred lineage and divine matriarchal guidance. I was being reminded that I don’t walk this path alone—my ancestors, spirit guides, and soul family walk with me.

In a collective reading that I was drawn to watch online, the channeler drew The Pearl—wisdom born of friction, pressure, and transformation. The Water Carrier, reminding me I am a vessel of healing. The Cosmic Ocean, affirming I am supported by a greater flow.

I also pulled three tarot cards that evening.

• The Star appeared in the past position—symbolizing my recent spiritual healing and reconnection to divine hope.
• Queen of Wands Reversed reflected my current state: holding back, dimming my magic out of fear or conditioning.
• Queen of Pentacles stood tall in my future: the vision of a grounded, nurturing, sovereign woman building a legacy from her gifts.

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Now, I sit with this sacred knowing: I have been entrusted with a vision. The retreat space I glimpsed in Prospect Park is real—and it’s waiting. The painting I purchased now hangs in my sacred space, a daily reminder that the dream has already rooted itself in this world. The chakra circle is forming, if only in the ethers for now, and I trust that the women it is meant to serve will find their way to me.

This journey reminded me that healing isn’t always soft. Sometimes it’s a fire. Sometimes it’s a leap. Sometimes it’s a vision so clear it takes your breath away.

And sometimes, it’s the quiet knowing: You are ready. You have always been ready.

There are moments in life when the threads of time shimmer—when people cross your path and something deep inside you knows: this is not random. These are the moments I call magical synchronicities. And lately, they’ve been coming in like waves, gentle but undeniable.

It started with Angela—a woman I met through the Houston Sacred Women Community. We walked side by side through a labyrinth one Sunday, spiraling toward center, not knowing yet that our souls had already said yes to weaving something together. With her, I felt seen in a way I hadn’t in a long time—not for what I do, but for who I am becoming. It was like meeting a sister from another lifetime, one who had also walked the edge between spirit and structure. Our conversations sparked something ancient inside me—something ready to rise.

Then came Catalina, whose presence felt as if it had been conjured straight out of a dream. I met her at the Houston Botanical Gardens, where she was selling oils at a festival—earthy, radiant, magnetic. That first exchange was brief but potent, and soon after, I found myself at her “Year of the Snake”-themed sound bath, letting the vibrations move through layers of my spirit I hadn’t even realized were holding tension. I bought her poetry book, felt her words echo my own, and later danced in her honor at an ecstatic dance, shedding old skins and meeting a new version of myself in the rhythm. Catalina didn’t just sell oils—she offered an energy, a remembrance.

And then there was Kaisie, whose presence emerged like a whispered confirmation from the universe. I first saw her at the ecstatic dance—fluid, powerful, moving with a quiet freedom that spoke to something inside me. Then, after the labyrinth walk with Angela, we connected online, only to meet again in the soft, sacred energy of Menil Park. Each time our paths crossed, it felt like a continuation, a thread picking up where it left off. We danced together once more in that open, wild space of ecstatic movement, and soon after, I saw her post about Human Design. Something clicked. I signed up for her class—not just to learn a system, but to follow a breadcrumb trail my intuition laid out. She became a guide in the language of energetic alignment, unlocking parts of myself I had only begun to understand.

And just when I thought the circle was complete, Natasha arrived with her unexpected, intuitive nudges. A text here. A suggestion there. She wouldn’t call herself a seer, but she is. She says things “just because,” and yet somehow, they land like messages from the cosmos—perfectly timed, deeply affirming. It was Natasha who nudged me toward the next step, who unknowingly echoed the words I had whispered only to the trees. She reminded me that Spirit speaks in many tongues—and sometimes through the voices of our friends.

Each of these women has served as a sacred mirror, a signpost, a spark.
Each encounter left behind a shimmer of truth—evidence that I am not walking this path alone.
We are all weaving together something ancient and new—threads of healing, creation, remembrance.

These magical synchronicities are not just “coincidences.” They are callings.
Confirmations. Invitations to keep trusting the mystery.

Because when women come together—especially women called by spirit, by earth, by intuition—something alchemical happens. Something holy.

And I’m learning to say yes to it.

There is a usual route that I take with my dog on my mindfulness walks on the Shadow Creek Nature Trail. We start at the Kingsley parking lot and walk through the grove of trees on the left to the creek that traces the edge of the wetlands. If no one is back there, I let her off the leash. She runs happily chasing smells and wagging her tail. There is a spot I call my “magic hill” where sometimes I sit and play a drum or sketch. On my walk Monday, several dragonflies darting around above the grass when I got to this spot. Dragonflies are ancient symbols of transformation, emergence, and the mastery of light. Dragonflies begin life in water and then learn to fly—just like me, emerging from emotional depths (my sickness in January, shadow work, working through self-doubt) into new freedom and expression.

As I continued down the creek, I heard doves cooing and whistling ducks calling. Doves are symbols of peace and divine communication. Ducks, especially the whistling kind, signal emotional navigation and movement between worlds (water/sky/earth). They remind me that I am bridging realms: healing + creativity, spiritual + material, inner voice + outer visibility.

Further down the creek, there is a special tree that I call “Tristessa” because it has a base that splits into three different trunks. Tristessa collects items at her base that have been inspiring me along my creative journey. First it was a white bowl, then a plate, a fork, a knife, a second fork, a water bottle, another water bottle, a corn on the cob, a piece of gum in a shiny wrapper. In January, during the week I was really sick, an entire cake was left at its base. But for the past week, the base of Tristessa has been cleaned off. This reflects my own internal house-clearing and readiness to fully touch my poetic truth. As a result of the clearing, I have been able to get closer and touch her trunk, caress her, give and receive healing. Her message to me today was, “It’s time to go from gathering inspiration to becoming the channel.”

As I left Tristessa, I noticed a large black object at the end of the creek, where it merges into the bayou at the bend. I usually leash my dog back up at the bend, before we rejoin the main walking trail, but today I realized I was going to have to leash her up early because of this black object. I thought it was perhaps a cow. I have seen cows behind a fence in the pasture across the creek, and I thought one got loose and made its way to this side.

As I leashed up my dog and walked closer, I realized it was a stroller, and there was a woman next to it holding a baby. She held the baby up to the sky, and I noticed that the baby looked brand-new and bare-skinned. I was very curious about this baby. I wanted to ask her how old it was and see what it was wearing, but the mother kept her back to me. I noticed she had a tattoo on her left calf and long, wild hair. She appeared young. I wanted to connect with her as a mother but she was packing the baby up as I passed and did not make any eye contact with me. I thought I might see her behind me and slowed to see if she would catch up, but she must have turned right back to the parking lot as I continued on the path. This was the most unexpecting sighting I have experienced on the trail as of yet. I realized that this moment was not meant for my interaction, but for me to witness. It made me reflect on my poetry book, already born in spirit.  Am I ready to lift it to the sky and let others witness it?

After this, I noticed several turtles sunning themselves on the sides of the bayou. Turtles are symbols of ancient wisdom, steady progress, and Mother Earth herself. They affirmed my divine timing. I’m not behind. I’m moving exactly at the pace that honors the soul’s unfolding. Fields were dotted with primrose and buttercup. These represent the inner affirmations blossoming around me, reminding me to share my creative gifts boldly.

I stopped by a bench in the shade to type up my haikus that I have been writing in my walks and something caught my eye on the bushes. I pulled it out – it was the skull of a large fish, vertebrae still attached. I was resurrecting the bones of something once submerged, like I have been doing lately with my dreams of being a writer.

A short distance away, red shouldered hawks called out in a chorus, at least two or more, maybe fighting over territory or communicating about a mutual threat. Hawks are messengers from Spirit. Red-shouldered hawks in particular are known for calling one to higher sight and bold action. What action are they calling forth in me?  Cattle egrets were feasting in the fields of flowers but flew away as I drew near. This showed me that as I draw near to my power, things once distant or elusive (like connection, visibility, purpose) begin to move in response.

As I continued to walk past my favorite trees on my way to the water fountain at my turnaround point, I passed a young woman.  She was walking with clumsy feet, with her head down. As she passed, I looked into her and found her to be terribly sad. I visited my trees Galadriel and Gabriel and observed the growing vines on their bodies, the way the air felt across my face.  After stopping for water, my dog and I began our walk back.  As I approached the turn on the bayou, I noticed a young pine tree that had an injury at its base. The injury appeared to be in the shape of an owl. It was leaking sap that glistened like amber in the afternoon sunlight. It’s as if the tree is weeping light, transmuting pain into beauty. That could be a mirror of my own journey: transforming past wounds into offerings of healing and insight.The presence of the owl shape here could be a reminder that my pain carries wisdom.

Soon after I encountered the weeping pine, I passed the sad woman on the trail for the second time (we were walking the circuit trail in opposite directions). She seemed still a bit sad, but much calmer.  After I made the complete turn, traveling north now along the bayou, I glanced across to watch the sad girl walk, and noticed a woman with gray hair on a bench near the weeping tree. I had not noticed her before, so I felt surprised to see her there. Perhaps she symbolized wisdom watching over my transformation, or even represented an aspect of my own future self: calm, grounded, quietly present at the site of healing.

I followed the trail left back towards the parking lot.  A handful of men passed me in both directions, exercising on this beautiful spring day. I saw something in the grass just off the trail that appeared to be a structure that someone made out of stakes of wood, like a fort. One side had fallen or was pushed over. This could symbolize a crumbling of old defenses or constructs—maybe outdated beliefs or protective mechanisms I’ve outgrown. It might reflect part of my inner architecture making way for something new and more aligned.

Soon after came across two little boys with their dad, playing in the grove of trees. They had approached me wanting to pet my dog and I had a friendly exchange with them.  This shift from crumbling structures to innocent engagement and connection felt like a return to joy, trust, and childlike wonder.

There’s a line from a Mary Oliver poem that says, “Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”  These walks, the way I pay attention and find meaning in every little thing, and then feel the need to write it down and share it is my way of being a walking oracle, being the one who interprets the magic of the world and brings it forward to you as a gift. I am open and ready for receiving this world in all the ways it decides to show itself.