Last night, I drew a card asking, "How do I bravely step into being my writer self?" The Jackalope appeared—a mythical creature asking me to believe in the impossible and trust in stories that persist across cultures.

But the shadow reading warned me: belief and imagination taken to excess can leave you lost in dream worlds, forgetting to come back to Earth.

This is Part 3 of my journey from the Raven's secrets to the Wolf's trust to the Jackalope's impossible becoming possible.

I know it sounds ridiculous to say your life's calling is to write stories when the world is on fire. But my soul came here to be an author. I've written eight books, seen my name in anthologies, penned hundreds of stories—and yet I still get terrified to share them. Why? In this post, I explore the complex web of early supporters who were also abusers, authority figures who discouraged me, and the deep vulnerability of putting characters who feel like extensions of myself into the world. Plus: what the Wolf card taught me about trusting my instinct to keep going.

My secret is I am terrified of sharing my work with the world. Just last night, I pulled a card asking about my current relationship with my writing. The Raven appeared—the card of secrets and hidden knowledge kept from the light. The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I am, calling myself a writer, publishing books, and yet still holding my work like something precious I'm not quite ready to fully share with the world. But the Raven urges me to stop hiding and step into the truth of what I'm here to do.

Years ago, I wrote a poem about my wildness—the untamed spirit that not everyone understands. It was liberating and lonely, knowing not everyone could handle my authenticity. But the more powerful truth? When I find my people—the ones who show up with their own fire—we roar at the heavens together. This poem appeared in my blog plan today, the same day I taught about decolonizing rituals and sacred destruction. Synchronicity at its finest. What does it mean to decolonize your spirit? It means reclaiming the wild parts you've been taught to hide and refusing to perform for external validation.

I'm pulling cards for the collective this Monday as we step into the liminal space between fall and winter, moving towards Samhain. What I'm hearing loud and clear is that our emotions hold the light we're seeking—not by controlling us, but by informing us. We're in changing times, and your unique gifts are needed now more than ever. The key to trusting yourself? Start impossibly small. Not "I'll write the book" but "I'll write 100 words tomorrow." Because every time we follow through on what we say we'll do for ourselves, we rebuild that sacred trust from within.

I'm standing at the threshold of something I can't quite name yet. As we move deeper into Samhain season, I'm feeling the thinning of the veils and the weight of uncertainty that comes with transformation. In this post, I'm opening up about my struggles with self-doubt, why I'm taking a sabbatical from social media in November, and the incredible Between the Veils eight-day event I'm co-hosting with Dr. Melissa Bird. If you're feeling the call of this liminal space—if you're ready to decolonize your spirituality and reclaim your power—this one's for you.

There's a weight to this haiku I've been carrying. Mother nature sees the mindless ways humans kill her precious children. When I watch the natural world, I see cycles that make sense—predator and prey in honest balance. But we humans? We kill each other not from necessity, but from fear, shame, and scarcity mindsets. This poem holds my grief for what we've become, and my hope for what we might yet be.

On Tuesday night, I held space for twenty people under the dark moon. We journeyed into shadow, drummed in our ancestors, and named what we were releasing. The container was so strong that everyone could simply be human—shifting positions, tending to their needs, crying the good kind of tears. And when I pulled oracle cards for myself, Saraswati appeared with a clear message: Take the lead. Stop waiting for permission. You're a writer—so write. This is my reflection on what happened in that circle, what I'm claiming, and why I'm done holding back.

In many ways, food has been my revolution, my reclamation, and my sacred act of choosing abundance after growing up with scarcity. For the past six months, I've been documenting every delicious moment in my "Tasty things I ate in the last month" series on Substack. From hand-rolled birthday ravioli to meals eaten on paper plates between house-flipping tasks, each dish tells a story. This isn't just food porn (though there's plenty of that). It's proof that even in chaos—even when moving houses, even when stress-eating frozen custard sundaes as hard-earned rewards—nourishment can be sacred. Come see why food journaling became my love letter to anyone who understands that a good meal can save your whole day. Maybe your whole life.

The ancestors were in the room on Friday when Dr. Bird and I went live. I felt supernatural heat—like being encircled by a crowd of unseen loved ones, their breath warming the air. They had something urgent to say about soul elixirs, the blanket being passed, and why THIS Samhain portal matters. Soon, Between the Veils begins. The veil is already thinning. Are you ready to answer the call?

Well, friends, this ceremony had ALL the technical plot twists—my microphone fell apart, I was on the wrong mic, and my camera was reversed. But the magic? It flowed anyway. This New Moon in Libra brought powerful messages about new beginnings in love, boundaries that protect your energy, and yes, wisdom from a fabulous purple-feathered ostrich. Sometimes living out loud means showing up with tech gremlins and all. Come for the ceremony replay, stay for the revolutionary awakening...

This week's energy is all about connecting with the divine within you. I pulled three powerful cards from the Divine Masters deck—Ma'at, Rumi, and Buddha—each calling us to remember that we are both human and divine, capable of mystical knowing and heightened awareness. I'm also thrilled to share details about my upcoming 8 Days of Revolutionary Awakening Between the Veils event with Dr. Melissa Byrd, where we'll be decolonizing spiritual beliefs and helping you connect with your authentic expression of spirit. Join me for this week's Monday Morning Vibe Check!

I'll never forget the moment I realized I was sitting with two women who genuinely saw my book—not the version I hoped it could be, but the messy, beautiful, heartbreaking story I'd actually written. Amy and Nancy Harrington gave me something rare: honest, skilled, compassionate feedback that honored my vision while helping me strengthen it. This is my love letter to the champions who helped my novel find its wings, and an invitation for you to find yours too.

I've been holding my voice back—even after all this purification work. When Dr. Melissa Bird drew the Nightingale reversed in my reading, my throat caught. My body knew what my mind was still avoiding: I've been dimming my truth to keep others comfortable, just like my father did. The Divine Child within me is done being quiet. She wants to know why we weren't having FUN. This is what reunion really looks like—not perfect healing, but the messy, ongoing practice of letting my voice out without softening it. My throat is still learning to stay open, and that's exactly where the power lives.

My father died believing his greatest gift to me would be money. After 40 years of killing himself slowly for a number in an account, he left me with an inheritance I never wanted—the belief that worth comes from working yourself to dust. As I clean out his house and work with the Welsh myth of Mabon's return to the Divine Mother, I'm learning to release this legacy. I'm discovering that consulting ancient wisdom and honoring my body's 'no' isn't weakness—it's the key to finding my way back home to myself.