our belief in a devil keeps us helpless

I was having a conversation recently with someone who is very religious. Let me preface this by saying that I am not religious. I am, for lack of a better word, spiritual.I don't believe that we need to go to church to connect with God. I don't believe I need a minister or a pastor or a clergyman to tell me right from wrong or what God wants me to know.   God has no

Proof of Life

I have often wondered what's the point. I mean, what exactly is the purpose of life?   Is it to go to school so we can memorize information to regurgitate at will to prove we've learned something?   Is it to sacrifice a disproportionate number of daily hours to a job that feels meaningless?   Or is it to find our "soul mate", marry, produce 2.5 children and live the American dream behind a white

not everyone will like you…

I thought I had made a new friend. She was nice although very troubled. I'm all about helping so when she reached out to me, I asked God/Universe for advice and, in my blunt, straightforward way shared what I had heard with her. It was not well received. I kinda knew what was behind her lashing out because it came out in the guidance I had gotten during my Divine conversation. The second time it happened, however, I took

I bought a stranger coffee today.

I am reminded of how easy it is to get pulled off course. There's a lot going on in the world--pain and suffering. War.  And a lot going on here in our own neighborhoods that you may (or may not) have experienced--strained relationships, tense encounters with strangers when you're out and about, short fuses and rapier sharp words--and all the while holiday music plays in the background in an attempt to remind us of what

Best friends

“Hurry!” I cried, “before someone comes in.” “I'm trying as fast as I can,” she replied. We both wiggled our way behind the wall and struggled to open the hidden window. Together, we just managed it and flung ourselves out through the window onto the waiting rooftop. Freedom! We were outside in the cool afternoon air.   Surrounded by blank, window less walls, this area was a secret gem. A pseudo rooftop that was hidden

Who do you love?

This song resonated through my mind this morning because I was thinking about all of your responses to my survey.  A number of you felt that you're having issues with self love.  And I totally get that because I've been there.  But what I would like you to know is, when you don't love yourself you will have a hard time connecting to God/Universe/All There Is. We are individual expressions of the Universe and denying or

Fear is Love

We were out late, my best friend and I. It was a partyfest with dancing and cocktails. We were 20 years old and beautiful and it was around 1:00 am as we giggled and unsteadily made our way to the train station. In our sights, we vaguely saw a group of guys walking towards us. It had to have been at least 6 or 7 of them. One of them even walked into a pole

Who Do You Judge?

Do you look at other women who are successful, beautiful, confident and think, "she thinks she's_____," or "who does she think she is," or, if you are honest with yourself, "what does she have that I don't?"   As a society, comparing ourselves to others has become a part of our culture. We see other people and, for whatever reason, judge them. We either want what they have--even if we won't admit that truth to

You Don’t Have Regrets When You’re Dead

I receive emails and requests for discovery calls from you, my community. In these emails and discovery calls, I hear all about you. Your trials. Your issues. Your pain. Your abuse. Your hopes. Your dreams. And at the end of it, there is always an excuse why you can't create that life, that dream. It saddens me. It saddens me more than I can possibly convey. And I ask God, what can I do? How


Years ago in my teens, I had a boyfriend. Let's call him Malcolm*.   *Not his real name.   Anyway, Malcolm loved K.I.S.S. L O V E D them. Me, I was into New Music. You know, OMD, Suzanne Vega, Depeche Mode. But, Malcolm was cute so I said, oh, yes! I LOVE K.I.S.S. Malcolm wore K.I.S.S. T-shirts. And wristbands. And anything that had K.I.S.S. on it. He had posters everywhere. And he listened to