As a child, I knew who I was: a wild magical creature who delighted in the gifts of the Earth and the mysteries of the universe–feasting on red clover and honeysuckle, grinding berries between stones to make "potions," thatching faerie huts with slabs of damp moss, talking to bugs, singing to birds, drawing channeled images of interdimensional angels, and happily passing long afternoons with my face pressed in the dirt watching golden light dance through blades of grass.
Then, as many of us do, I forgot. The magic was conditioned out of me and replaced with corn syrup and self-loathing. And I got very sick, and very very sad. I was slapped with a long string of diagnoses, including Type 1 diabetes. My adolescence and young adulthood was a horrorshow of illness and medications that caused side effects and withdrawals for which more medications were prescribed. After ten years of this nightmare, I realized I had no idea who I was without the birth control pills, antidepressants, antibiotics, topical acne medications, antiandrogens, prescription migraine pills and insulin injections I had been taking regularly for a decade.
It was around that time that I followed a strong intuitive urge to apprentice on a biodynamic farm. Reconnecting with the Earth, plants, and the cycles of nature in this way started a long process of transforming my relationship to nourishment and life itself–remembering what had been forgotten. I became intrigued by the concept that food could be medicine, and inspired by distant whispers of wise women curing menstrual cramps with ritual moon baths and the laying-on of hands. I started experimenting with phasing out Western drugs and exploring "alternative" (ancient, sacred) healing modalities such as herbalism, acupuncture and meditation. Over the course of a year I weaned myself off of all pharmaceuticals except for insulin (which I still currently rely on to help manage Type 1 diabetes, a complex and deeply rooted condition I am continuing to learn from).
In 2012 I was in a fatal car crash that awakened me beyond a doubt to the existence of the Spirit Realm. I had a lucid experience of being saved by the angelic form of my best friend, who had died a year prior: I felt his presence as a warm bubble of white light that shielded me from injury. By all accounts, given the circumstances and severity of the impact, it was miraculous that I lived at all – but in fact I was left without a scratch on my body. This was an initiatory experience that opened a floodgate of psychic information and set off a chain reaction of life-altering events that catapulted me onto my path as a healer.
My work since then has largely been about finding my way home, back to the wise child who knew who she was, and helping others do the same. Remembering that we are Love, and we are all connected. Repairing the damage. Reclaiming magic. Healing trauma. Journeying into the wilderness. Dancing. Singing. Fasting. Listening to Plants. Listening within. Honoring my Self as You as Nature as Divinity.
As I continue to walk the healing path, I come again and again to the understanding that pain, suffering and disease are invitations: portals to awakening. Our bodies are constantly communicating to us in poetic metaphors densely encoded with information, and they can teach us everything we came here to learn. All we have to do is listen.