An Invitation to Rewrite or Reawaken

September 29, 2021

Dear Sparkling Circle of Friends,

LOVE to you exactly where you are.

Brevity is the soul of wit, but today, I’m not feeling very witty. I am, however, feeling the brevity of this precious life. After two weeks of deep immersion into work with Source I am feeling inside-out and mighty tender. How are you?

For those following from the last newsletter – good news! While more than 221,775 acres from the Caldor Fire have devastated El Dorado County, the firefighters miraculously saved a huge swath of mountainous wilderness, including our nearly 100-year-old cabin, by driving the wall of fire nearly 45 degrees to the right and away from us. And while the smoke has been horrible, too, I was first in just after the mandatory evacuation had been lifted. It was a long, dark drive around Lake Tahoe for entry as the normal highways remained closed, and I arrived nearer to midnight than to the light of day, but I was met with quiet joy for all which remained. Unaware the risk was still great, I unexpectedly found no one else at the lake, save the fire-fighters at the far edge, and a little light across the water. Sweet peace.

I gave thanks for all the life – trees, bushes, animals, flowers, homes – transformed and released to the skies in embers and ash. Silty, grey dust covered every surface inside and out, but blessedly, the hot, firebrand chunks of wood as big as silver dollars flying on the high winds for more than a month were now black and cool. Our cabin and surrounding woods stayed safe. I stopped and bowed, head to my heart. At least this time. At least this time, it was safe. We are already on borrowed time. The world here is parched. Drought is real. Treading light lightly, not wishing to spit over my shoulder or high-five casinos luck rolling over the pass, I was flooded anew with simple understanding nothing must be taken for granted again.

In the faint light, with waxing moon streaming through the window, I attempted sweeping the drifts into tidy piles, but the ash billowed in the air, “Not yet. Not yet. I’m newly changed and need to rest in this for a while longer.” I realized again, we are not always in charge of how we try to contain or streamline transformation. I watched the ash dance and fall, took off my mask, and leaned the handmade broom against the cold hearth. A no-burn rule was in effect even for the cabins with no heat without fire, so I boiled water for tea. The temperatures would be dipping into the thirties at night all week. The spaces between the planked walls were as charming as the faces in the beams and no upgrades were desired. It’s a summer cabin, nearly as untouched as when my step-great-grandmother and step-grandmother built it, but autumn arrived early. I was glad to have found the cheery, orange blanket I’d purchased years ago for the cabin and laid it out atop the bed where I’d sleep, placing my sleeping bag upon the clean buffer. The winds had quieted. I spent that first night surrounded in what was smoky, yet still; present, without moving the prayers to put things in order, any more than with gratitude, we would first rest in this together.

Messages from Source began as soon as dawn cut through the lace curtains. “Look!” and I was pulled outside. I couldn’t believe in all my years loving this view, this glacial lake, the massive mountain whose rocks and snowmelt spill down from each storm, that I’d never before seen that precise moment when the shadow from the mountain onto the lake reached all the way to my shore! And within that, I saw a perfect reflection of the mountain and every detail of it smoothly spread atop the lake. It took my breath away. Source gave me this message:

The reflection

of the mountain

on the lake

is just

as magnificent

as the mountain

It is as tall

as wide

as colorful

but it is land

in water

below air

with memory

of fire


fears nothing

not even its unique plane of beauty

as it reaches out

Be this reflection

It was all so beautiful. I wanted to dive in more, but instead I now leave the simplicity of these words for you to reflect upon and consider your own relationship with Source energy. I wasn’t to linger. I sat all week long bellied up to my keyboard turning lock after lock of the winks and messages of Source over the book of our adventures together while the wind clapped the branches outside like erasers filled with chalk. School was in! What still managed to blow through the roof sighed over the eves within our cabin in tiny puffs. It wasn’t exactly fairy dust, but somehow in the daily cleaning of the ash sifting through and what fell around me, I was beguiled watching each story rise like a phoenix. It was a good respite for my soul.

How often do we allow such rare and precious time alone to sit and listen to Source in the simplest Pura Vida temple of our mountains, lakes, deserts, oceans, and sky? No internet either there, just an uplink of spirit. Without the ability to hike, what with the smoke still pumping unhealthy air, the trails in all the forests of the state parks and surrounding areas closed to everyone but the exhausted firefighters still fighting and bulldozing wide and wider paths, (hard to see, I must confess, but so they’d have access if the fire turned back), my only task was to stay out of the way again and let the words spill back into finer order in “the book.” Writers, artists, and athletes endeavor to get “into the zone,” but Source plunked me in my zone at this old, round table with a single light to share how deeply we are all being called to let Source run through each heart, through each finger, hand, toe, eye, ear, tongue, and dancing soul. It wasn’t easy to come back.

But back I came. A day early by mistake? Or by divine plan? Yes, always that.

If you follow me on my personal Facebook page, you know I’ve been going through “something” this week, yet it began the night before I left the mountains. Source had me look at the steep face of our mountain and as the full moon rose to shine upon it, spirited me back to thirty years ago – the single, treacherous time I attempted descending on the slippery, perilous, talus rock face instead of making my way back on the tried-and-true trail home to either accept a marriage proposal from my forever crush or meet my destiny to marry the unknown. I coolly recalled, of course I had to meet destiny by slipping through fear to the unknown. Even with all the birth pains and oceans of tears meeting worlds of joy, I know this was the path chosen for me, leading me to right now. Hindsight is 20/20, yes? And then, while I had no internet and only the saved tunes on my iPhone to sing to me, Spotify strangely began to play a single song not on my playlist, one that I’d never heard before, that was clearly preparation for what I’d return home to find.

It is too long a tale to take you back right now into the “God Pocket” with a man named Vaughn, a good and highly skilled climbing friend of our Boosalah, who had not returned from a mountain in Colorado, but it was clear I arrived back early to be here all week, so Source could help me try to help Boos’ friend. As soon as I heard the news, Source immediately, emphatically threw my hands toward maps, gashes in rocks, and into chats and visions from the astral I never could have imagined. Source shared a new way of seeing from inside a mountain, inside a rock, a God pocket, and inside a community of brave people through all dimensions, as well as within the heart and intentions of a beautiful, beloved climber of mountains like ours and more, to bring him home. Vaughn was a surgical nurse in service and similarly perhaps to you, also helping people. He hiked his own path on some of the most spectacular peeks on the planet – dark, treacherous trails of talus be dared – to destiny, and even now, is still reminding everyone of the preciousness of life, hope, and love. Even though we did our very best to triangulate spiritual GPS and help him be found sooner by a lone cowboy of mountains and the spectacularly courageous Search and Rescue Teams to bring him home, Vaughn continues to reach out with so much love. We bless and thank him forever for the gift and reminder of this One Love, One World and flying higher to the true home of All-That-Is beautiful.

I do wish to tell this story, but only after proper time to grieve and honor his life has been given to all and when I’m given permission to share this very new and humbly received perspective on life, “death,” and what can happen when a soul is held in love even as the body is slipped into a God Pocket. Thank you for your prayers of grace for all his friends, his beloved and their family, and of course, our own Boosalah. We know and trust he will be honoring Vaughn and climbing with all their dear friends soon.

And with grace and gratitude assessing all this, as well as my own healing path, I’m traveling again in a week. New and very ancient, sacred paths are calling overseas, and I’ll try to give more details when I can, but all this to say, Gracious You, are you feeling your tides pulling fresh perspectives, too? The work is deepening even as the world is finding her sea legs in the moving waters and rocky planes. My guess: Yes. Blessings on your dance, too!

Beautiful People, thank you for reading this, taking the time to connect, and holding the light. YOU are making a huge difference and your heart is deeply felt, appreciated, and so dearly loved wherever you dance.

Until the next time, and always, please carry the love forward with greater joy that you can carry life forward. Life is so beautiful. All of it – the seen and unseen and every seam in between.

Bon Voyage!

Blessings, Love, and Blue Skies,

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