Author’s Note:
This piece came through as a personal reflection—written in the quiet space between journeys, while waiting for my flight to Mount Shasta. It’s not just about travel, but about returning to myself. About healing the body, releasing old pain, and remembering that we are all connected—to each other, to our ancestors, and to the Earth herself.
While I await my flight to Mount Shasta—to reconnect Heaven with Earth—I’ve set an intention to heal. My current back issue feels tied to emotions that still need to be released: the relationship (or lack of one) with my mother, the generational trauma passed down through my family, and all the ways I’ve hurt myself over the years.
The pain I feel when walking reminds me of my birth. I was born two weeks late and breech. In 1969 there was no C-section option, and during delivery, two of my mother’s discs were chipped. That was something I was constantly reminded of. My words and actions have always seemed to disappoint her.
My weed habit numbed the pain more than I realized. Like a backed-up bathroom sink—it’s been pretty gross. Now I’m feeling everything: the pain from fear, guilt, and shame. My body needs to stretch, in every sense of the word, to release what no longer serves me and make space for the new to enter.
As I unload the pain in my body, I see how Mother Earth has been doing the same. How much has she absorbed? The wars, the political boundaries cutting her apart, the family arguments that echo through homes everywhere. The low vibrations that make us all sick. It all needs to be cleared.
She doesn’t have our escape routes. She hasn’t been able to numb herself. She’s witnessed it all. Felt it all. Over the years, she’s released through volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, hurricanes, and heavy rain. The arrival of 3I Atlas feels like a catalyst for the final steps of her cleansing process—and ours too.
“You are loved.”
Those were the exact words I heard during a QHHT session—direct, unprompted, and deeply felt. And it wasn’t the only sign. This week, I dealt pocket AA's three times in a row, and everyone around me commented on the odds. The signs have been everywhere.
As we make room for more light, I’m amazed and honored. An elevator must be built as deep as the height it climbs. The darkness gives us the depth to hold the light. We have to move through that darkness to reach the light on the other side.
The light is waiting—for all of us—to be received at our own pace.
We are changing.
Mama Earth is changing.
And it’s so beautiful.