childhood
The Hidden Blessing Of Dysfunctional Parents
For those of us who grew up with dysfunctional or abusive parents, the journey of healing is not a straight path. It twists and turns through shadows of anger, grief, and longing.
But, within this curse always lies a paradoxical hidden blessing or two. Even the most wounded parents can be our teachers and a source of inspiration, not because of what they gave us, but because of what they could not.
Yes, dysfunctional and abusive parents can be an inspiration. Not in the sentimental sense of gratitude for their suffering, but in the clear-eyed recognition that their brokenness became the rich soil in which your awareness grew.
A damaged parent can inspire you to live more consciously, to love with intention, and to stop the cycle of ancestral pain that shaped them and you.
They can inspire you to use their example as a guide for what not to do, what not to say, and who not to become.
Their absence of nurturing can ignite within you the sacred resolve to be present and compassionate. Their harshness can awaken your gentleness. Their coldness can teach you warmth. The rejection you endured can remind you daily to make every person you love feel safe, seen, and cherished!
Even if your parents were never healed, you can be. Even if they never awakened, you can awaken. Their story does not have to become your destiny. You can use their limitations as fuel to create something better, purer, and truer.
The Man Who Pushed Me Off A Cliff
Since I was a child, I have had fragmented memories of my past lives. These flashbacks are all parts of those lives and lessons that pertain to my soul growth and karma in this lifetime.
So far, all of my past life memories have had to do with someone I have interacted with here, in my current incarnation. In other words, I have met all of the people in my past life memories in this lifetime also.
One such memory of a past life, is of a man I was married to in Ireland. We were quite young. I would say no more than 20. We were poor and lived in a little cottage, near a cliff overlooking the ocean. It was a modest, but breathtakingly beautiful home and land. I also remember that I had long, curly red hair.
Sadly, my husband in that lifetime was physically and emotionally abusive. He was always worried that men would desire me and take me away from him.
But I had never been with any man but him. I didn’t want to be with my husband, but I certainly didn’t want another man to control and own me either.
He kept me prisoner in our home and refused to let me leave. My solace was the church. My soul’s water and food was the sunlight, and the sounds and smell of the ocean. My fantasies consisted of building a boat and heading out into the vastness, toward the sunset, letting the ocean’s waves carry me away to wherever she wished me to be. Interestingly, in my present life, nature has always been my sanctuary.
A Cuddly Message From Grandma At Halloween
All of us have lost, or will in time lose someone very dear to us. Like it or not, all of us also have to ponder the concept of life after death at some point in our life. Some of us have very strong beliefs on the subject, one way or the other. We either believe in the afterlife, or we do not.
For me the answer is simple and easy. I strongly believe, because of both my personal and professional experiences. For example, I have been visited many times by my grandparents, and I have communicated with many loved ones in spirit in my daily work, when I do readings for my clients.
My grandma often communicates with me in the dream state. She tends to show up when I least expect it, usually to give me a guiding message or to warn me about something. She always has been a worrier, in this life and the next! Right up to the very day she departed this life, she was telling us what to do to keep safe, and she was always giving us good advice. She is very wise.
I was asking her just the other day to give me a sign that she was around, and sure enough, she did. But this time she did not show up in a dream. She spoke to me…through a teddy bear! Yes, indeed.
It is one of those plush toys that makes a cute kissing sound and says, “I love you very much,” when you squeeze it. I was in the tub and this little teddy bear was right next to me, on top of a shelf. After drawing the bath, I was leaning back in the soothing, warm water, letting out a sigh of relief that a long day was over. Next thing you know, this teddy bear goes off on its own, making the kissing sounds and saying I love you, over and over. I knew right away that it was grandma making contact.
The History And Hidden Blessings Of Halloween

As a child, I remember getting excited about dressing up as a witch on Halloween and enjoying all the treats, like toffee apples and spooky cakes, that my mom used to make.
But one year, my father ruined the holiday for me when he explained his views on the significance of Halloween to me. I was just 10 years old, and it upset me.
Because of his religious beliefs, my father then forbade my siblings and me from celebrating Halloween. This made us feel excluded from our community as we watched other children dress up and enjoy themselves.
As an adult, I learned that it was not the event itself that was the issue, but rather the assumed F.E.A.R. behind it: False Evidence Appearing Real.
Remembering those times recently, I was prompted to take another look into the origin of this holiday tradition and what it truly stands for.
On 31st October each year, the Celtic pagan festival known as Samhain is celebrated, symbolizing the end of the harvest period and the start of the winter season, sometimes referred to as the “darker half” of the annual 12-month cycle.
Long before it became a night of costumes and candy, it was a sacred festival rooted in ancient spiritual tradition. The celebration we now know as Halloween traces its origins to Samhain (pronounced Sow-in), a Gaelic festival that marked the end of the harvest and the beginning of the dark half of the year.
Reclaiming The Voice Of Your Inner Child
I always sing with my yoga students at the end of class. I used to work in the entertainment industry as a singer, dancer, and actress. Because of that, I feel confident singing in front of people.
Growing up, I was always full of joy despite my dysfunctional and rather glum family. Of course, they didn’t appreciate my natural exuberance. They certainly didn’t like that I sang all the time because it represented a lightness of being they had long since given up on.
Like many dysfunctional families, they put me down all the time. They told me that I couldn’t sing and that I sounded awful. But, as with all the other negative, hurtful things they tried to convince me of, I did not believe them.
I kept singing anyway, which irked them. I continued to sing and dance, and I even wrote, produced, directed, and starred in my own musical when I was eleven.
Now I’m not saying I had a good voice as a kid. I really don’t know if I did. But, loving to sing, some voice lessons and lots of joy certainly helped me become a relatively good singer.
One day, after my yoga class, a student came up to me and told me I had a beautiful voice. I thanked her. I often have people compliment my singing voice after class.
The student then told me her family told her she had a bad singing voice when she was a child so she stopped singing. She then mentioned other abuses she received by her cruel family.
The Timeless Magic Of Nature Spirits And Elementals
As a youngster growing up in the UK, I loved visiting a neighbor, Mrs. O’Leary, whose lilting Irish voice still echoes in my mind. She spoke often of the “Good People” and acknowledged their presence in her home and garden. I recall her taking us outside to witness her making small offerings to these unseen little mystical beings.
Though it feels like a distant memory now, I can still recall seeing them, too. Perhaps they appeared to us because we truly believed, or perhaps because Mrs. O’Leary invited them to show themselves.
Whatever the reason, those moments left a lasting impression. To me, it felt like truly being “in my element,” fully connected to the hidden, magical forces of nature.
I vaguely recall a magical moment in Mrs. O’Leary’s garden when she pointed out to me a tiny, translucent little figure perched on a large moss-covered rock at the base of her prized old hawthorn tree. With delight, she described how this “little person” was waving at us and encouraged me to wave back. Standing there with awe and intrigue, I became aware of what seemed like hundreds of luminous sprites dancing in the glistening water below.
Despite all the cynicism of a technologically driven world, increasingly devoid of the many miracles and wonders of nature and the unseen realms, Mrs. O’Leary and the spirits of nature still remind me of the healing, transformative power that lies in reverence, stillness, and everyday magic.
