Waiting for the Bus

It was one of those nights that thoughts kept me up. They cycled throughout my body like a tornado. When I finally slept it felt as if I was unplugged from the rubbish. This morning I am exhausted.

There is nothing I can do in those moments of excessive anxiety. All I can do is try and quiet my mind. I cannot meditate. I can, however, breathe and concentrate on each inhale and exhale. The moment I stop forcing the sleep, it arrives. The instant I let go, I flow.

We’ve all experienced these nights that seem to turn into morning without rest. I tried to pinpoint what I was anxious about.  I am not. I am anticipating something and it is quite different. I am feeling as if something is right around the corner.

I shared a few weeks ago with a client who was experiencing similar issues. She said she was stricken by paralyzing anxiety. I paused for a bit. Then I told her, “You are waiting for a bus to arrive. You are seated in a secluded bus stop. You don’t know the bus number or where you are going, but you know that you are there to get on some bus.” Her eyes opened widely and she agreed.

These times are for trusting what we don’t see coming. We must have faith in the unseen and unknown. There is so much happening around the world. The collective is shifting and a lot of what empaths are feeling is the residue of all that energy.

So, I am waiting patiently without analyzing the next moments. I am seated with so many others waiting for our bus to arrive. I trust it will be to a gorgeous, peaceful, magical place. You are not alone feeling your feels. You aren’t isolated from the rest of us during these moments. It’s a massive ascension of consciousness. It feels foreign and weird… and uncomfortable at times. We are meant to grow and evolve because it is way past due!

Let’s trust together. One of my favorite quotes my Martin Luther King, Jr. is “Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.” Or the bus coming to get you.

I love you,


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Language of God


“Silence is the language God speaks, and everything else is a bad translation.” – Father Thomas Keating

This morning I awaken into chaos.  My daughter woke up thinking it was 6AM and ran around the house yelling that she overslept.  She knocked on her brother’s door as if the world was coming to an end.  She came into my room in a panic.  I jolted out of bed, grabbed my cell phone, and saw it was barely 4AM.  She didn’t believe me so I planted the apparatus in her face while she adjusted it.  I asked her to come to bed with me for another hour or so.  She was so wired that her energy spun me into my own memory vortex.  I realized how far I had arrived into my new life.

I spent a large portion of my life being awaken each morning to chaos.  If it wasn’t the yelling of fear in my own head then it was the external noises of someone who had no peace and had to wake the house up whenever he was up.  Time didn’t seem to be relevant to anyone. I have spent the last two years of my life waking up to peace in these mountains.  I open my eyes, say my prayers, light a candle and sit there for a little bit.  I go with the rhythm of the morning.  I need silence.  I need to hear God in those initial moments of returning to this world from the dream state.  Anything else, just like the quote, is a horrible translation for me.  And, I know this is ironic.  I am a chatterbox during the day.  I will make conversation with anyone or anything.  I have been known to talk to the trees, the fish, and the rocks.  But, my mornings are sacred.  I need to go to the windows and look outside and see how the day will receive me.  I require serenity in those first moments of entering a new day.  I need to breathe in deeply and let my spirit know that I am grateful for everything.

As I write this I am watching rain fall in our pond and the backdrop of green mountains behind it.   I can hear the rattling of leaves with the wind, the movement of the screens and water pounding the deck. I can hear the whisper of nature shredding and purging.   In the silence of my spirit I hear God loud and clear.  May you find your inner guide to bring you to a place of silence each day so you can touch the Divine.