Today I saw a monarch dance is swooping patterns of ecstasy, and for one moment it flew over my head. A dragonfly looked me in the eye, tilted its head and seemed to acknowledge our very real connection. And a bird died n the arms of a little boy across the street. A circle of four young white males gathered to do their best for the little squawker - clearly a baby - who had been "gotten" by a neighborhood family's outdoor cat. I had the feeling when they called me over, knowing that I have on occasion rescued and helped revived a near death bee, that this bird was on its way to death and was not going to make it. I had competing urges to go home and tell them to let the thing alone, even to let the cat finish it so it could go quickly, and to be there to provide support in whatever way I could. In the end I let them decide what to do, counseling them on the options and stood a good distance off, at the edge of their yard, one step away from the cement circle. They soon called to me, "Alicia, Alicia, we got it! We rescued it!" And so one boy held it, I did some energy work on it, another boy got it water to sip, and one of their dads came by to make sure the boys washed their hands VERY thoroughly and to put in his two cents on "the politics of having outdoor cats." Meanwhile, the kids were not considered with judgment, but compassion. One wondered if he should wack the bird with a stick "so it won't suffer." Another gathered grass for a nest and wondered if, for the last moments of its life we should set it down, "So it can have some peace." And in the end one boy just held it kindly until its heart stopped, and then all the boys dug it a grave. Not every story has to have a happy ending to be beautiful. The beauty in this story to me is that the bird gave the boys an opportunity to demonstrate positive, healthy masculinity - courage, considered ethics and compassion. I told them I think that being courageous and compassionate are the most important things for a boy - for any person - to learn, and that they did a great job with both. They seemed sad but also pleased with how they handled situation and I watched from a distance as they sat in a circle around the tree where they'd buried the bird for a while before moving on. One of the boys in this group used to squash small bees for sport. I told him they were my friends and from then on he became a strong bee advocate. Sometimes telling our friends that vulnerable populations are OUR friends can really shift things.

I was pulling out of a parking spot today when my path crossed with a mini van containing two beautiful women in hjab. I stopped to let them go. And I smiled. They smiled back so genuinely. One of my favorite things about Islam is that smiling is considered a good deed, officially. I was born in a Sufi commune and spent the first two years of my life there. I also visited sacred Christian sights twice during my first two years - the first time when I was still in the womb. And my father is Jewish. So I am deeply influenced by all three traditions.

But the tradition that resonates with me most is the one that says, "I don't care what your religion is, I care about your heart." I know when I am meeting someone and we are relating soul to soul, heart to heart, and that is the most magical thing about being a human being capable of connecting with other human beings. I felt that with the muslim women in the mini van. And I felt it when I went to coffee this morning, and I paused just before going in, feeling the sense to wait, only to be greeted moments later by an old friend I hadn't seen in a long time who happens to be black. He told me about some health struggles and I offered him some energy healing, which he accepted, right there in the sunshine outside the neighborhood weigh station of caffeine and conversation. He said he could feel it and thanked me.

This morning my son accidentally dropped a bottle of fizzy ferment, also known as kombucha. I told him it was okay, and asked if needed any help cleaning up. He said no, that it was already all cleaned up. The bottle remained intact, but the cap broke. Like mother like son. Last week the same thing happened to me. Twice. The first time was at home. The second time was very, very public.

There is nothing like standing at the crime scene of a kombucha accident in the middle of Whole Foods. The kombucha cooler is stored absolutely directly in the middle of the front of the store where all the registers are, so everyone has to walk by you and your accident on their way to check out. Now you may have surmised by now that I had a kombucha accident, based on the scene I've set and the spoiler in the title. You would be correct. Stick around and I'll tell you not only how it happened, but the memorial service that was held for a lost scobe.

I was reaching for the top most shelf. Only the day before my youngest daughter and I had been discussing the pros and cons of being short or tall. In this case, being short was a con. I climbed up on the ledge of the cooler and with effort, grasped the Nessala Juniper rose, only it was wet, and it slipped and crashed to the ground without pausing, demonstrating that the laws of gravity are still in effect for kombucha bottle sized objects at this time. I heard a bang as it hit the floor, and as I looked down, I saw, spread out beneath me an entire lake of gold. I looked for shards of broken glass, but found none. Instead, joyfully, I located an intact bottle; the only broken thing was the plastic cap. So in essence the crash landing had simply opened the bottle, spilling its contents on the ground. Moments later a staff member, and then another staff member and still another came over. It almost seemed someone had called a code blue. I didn't know it took five people to mop up a spill, but maybe they heard me say "golden lake" in my mind, and thought "large scale accident, call in the troops." Eventually it was down to my current favorite Whole Foods employee. She has colorful rainbow hair, featuring a soft red, and we've had fun, high vibe conversations before. Now we stood watch over the disaster. I apologized, of course, and then we just stared at it for a while in silence. She then announced that someone has to "watch the spill" to make sure no one slips and falls. I nodded. We kept watching. I suppose I could have left, but it didn't seem like the right thing to do, after all, it was my spill, I felt I should see it through to it's completion. After a bit it occurred to me that it was a bit like how I imagine it would be to keep watch over a person who has passed. I said so aloud, "It kind of reminds me of keeping watch over someone who has died." She said, "Yeah, I get that." And thus we commenced a psuedo memorial service for the kombucha, light-hearted, yet in some sense also sincere. We wished the kombucha a wonderful next life, and she made sure especially to give a shoutout to the scobe, which was sprawled like a sun-colored jellyfish off to one side, and I concluded our ceremony by saying, "May everyone who walks here be blessed!" With that another employee returned with a mop and a towel, and I departed to purchase a small bonsai tree, two surviving bottles of kombucha, two basil plants and a small coconut water made by Harmless Harvest.

All in all, I took it as a good sign that although the kombucha came crashing down, the glass remained intact. Over the course of that day, I saw three monarchs, planted my basil, found a home for my bonsai and lounged at Brittingham beach with my husband and our two younger children, our oldest being in Boston.

Another thing I saw this week: two kinds of bees sharing the same flower.

And one more thing: two butterflies dancing a duet.

And one last thing: a monarch and a dragonfly doing a doce doe.

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Patterns are usually pretty flipping unconscious. Even if you are aware of them, the actual pattern that produces the actual events that suck in your life (or if you’re lucky, the ones that create a beautiful life) life in your unconscious until they are triggered. Then we usually just react to the wounding or suppress them with various coping methods.

Even when we know a pattern exists in our family of origin, we usually think we have it covered. We know we will make different choices, be a different person, manifest a different kind of experience for ourselves and the people we love - including the families we create, whether through romantic union that produces flesh and blood children, through adoption or through close, deep relationships that function like family through common history or instant emotional connection that flowers into a shared life. We often succeed in one or more ways at doing things differently, and then simultaneously produces the same old results in a brand new flashy, updated wardrobe. It can feel mighty unfair because we feel like we already endured whatever we endured in childhood, we did our best to make conscious choices to do better, to make things different for ourselves, and our children, and then boom!

Maybe we make a few mistakes that are the same or different, and our child(ren) reacts the same way to us that we did to our parents!

Maybe we get so stressed out that we revert to a style of dealing with what our children present to us that is oddly and horrifyingly familiar.

Maybe we do it all “right” and still our children wish we did it differently, perhaps because their personality matrix requires a different kind of parenting than the one we “did right.”

Or maybe influences outside the family - or at least outside the immediate family seem to sabotage your every effort to create a safe, wholesome, joyous place for your family to thrive, and seem to derail our goals and devolve our family dynamics into ones we thought we could single-handedly move your family beyond.

Maybe we married the opposite type of person than our parents but underneath there was a thread of similarity in at least one aspect, unrecognizable to conscious analysis, and we must now face our own reactions to that trigger in order to move forward positively, in a life-affirming manner.

The beauty of being triggered - even having the shit hit the fan is we get an awesome opportunity to truly see, feel, and love the "us" who has experienced these pattern and yet also remained innocent beyond them. Then when we feel them arise, we can release them. I am so excited to be creating an alchemy program of seven formulas to help you do just that!

I know this month has revealed many patterns to me that I inherited and it's been a wonderful opportunity to have more compassion and forgiveness for my own parents as well as to awaken new layers that are ready to slough off, heal or shift into a vibration of bliss.

These are intense times and they are not always rose cakes and rainbows. At the same time, we never, ever even for a moment stop being innocent, miraulous beings created in Love, by Love, for Love.

We've got this!
You're not alone.
If you'd like to schedule a one on one session, feel free to reach out using the contact form on the website.

Otherwise stay tuned for the Alchemy of Seven <3

Love
Alicia


    

I picked my son up from tennis and we decided to hit up Colectivo on our way home. He ordered a pink panther smoothie and I got a wheat free macaroon and at the last minute a spicy iced mocha. After all, an intuitive lady said not too long ago I need more spice, more heat in my life, and I was just thinking about that this morning sitting in the sunlit partial shade of my wild yarden. My front yard shifts from a full spread of yellow suns and violets come early spring into a blanket full of white and red clover with clusters of fresh herbs and a few vegetables once summer sets in. This year I even included a chili pepper plant for the precise reason of getting more spice into my diet. It's showing off the cutest white star shaped flowers, along with miraculously appearing little green chilies now. I tried one of the chili peppers that emerged the other day, but honestly, it was about as spicy as a cucumber in mild salsa. So after I had already gotten done with the whole credit swipe process, I added the spicy mocha made with oatmilk, and waited with my son for everything to arrive at the counter. I chatted amicably with an acquaintance whose name is David, like my husband, only he isn’t like my husband at all, except that they are both nice. I asked this particular individual named David what’s inspiring him these days and he said it’s his morning walk. He asked me the same, and I told him about my wild yarden and how I delight in seeing the wildflowers come up and pop out into blossom. Soon our order was ready, and I followed a slight, gentle nudge to walk out the front door instead of the back way, which would have been closer to our car, which we’d parked up the street and to the left. On our way around the corner, I noticed two of the cutest, sweetest looking dogs. I am much more attuned to noticing dogs these days, thanks to my daughter. She is a deep and true dog lover. If she could put her arms around every dog that exists, she would do so in instant. I paused in front of these two lovely creatures, one with the clearest, brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, and the other the soften tan lab mix with gentle brown eyes and slightly shaggy fur around the face. I asked the young man with them if I could say hello. He smiled full of kindness and said, “Of course!” As I began petting the blue-eyed dog, quite possibly an Australian shepherd or or at least a blended lineage with some Aussie shepherd in there, another young fellow came over. He looked so familiar and his face was full of light. I told them how my youngest daughter would love their dogs because she has a true universal dog lover. I said how she loves every single dog - it doesn’t matter if they are cute or if they have personality issues or they are mangy or perfectly groomed, she loves them ALL. I shared how we’ve started going on walks without our dogs so she can meet and give attention to all the dogs in our neighborhood. The young men were touched. Then the one I recognized said, “You’re Alicia, right?” I nodded. “I just got your email yesterday. I really enjoy getting your emails. I find them really inspirational.” I said, “Thank you.” I looked at him, my head slightly cocked to the side trying to place how he got on my email list. Finally I asked, “Where do we know each other from?” He replied, “The coffee shop.” Then I remembered. “Were you about to move to…” “Yeah,” he replied, “I moved to Washington, but I live in Colorado now.” Geeze, what are the chances I meet a soul brother who happens to be visiting Madison! I asked him how he liked Colorado. He said it’s okay but he’s still trying to get stable there. He told me how he actually feels more comfortable here in Madison, Wisconsin. I explained how we may feel more comfortable physically in different places based on the energetics but we can always tap into the template and energetics of The New Earth and then run that in our light bodies. Then we can make it easier for that to be available to more people. I asked him if he has tried rooting into New Heaven and the New Earth. He was curious to try it and asked me to write down what I had said. I shared a little bit about how Hawaii was the first place I fell in love with earth, and how in Peru it felt like plugging into the Mother Board - like it breathed me in different ways, and I felt like, “THIS is how it is SUPPOSED TO BE BE!” He told me that he feels really alive when he travels to other countries and feels there might be somewhere out there for him that feels EVEN better than Madison, and I encouraged him to put Peru on his go-to list. Soon two lovely young women sat down nearby. My young friend asked if he could email me at the address listed on my email newsletter, and I said that he could, and I would look forward to hearing any of his thoughts. I shook the first young man’s hand, finally getting his name, and both young men and I exchanged soul smiles. I love being around people unafraid to make deep and lasting eye contact, soul to soul without any connotations of anything except pure soul happily saying “hello, it’s nice to be in this space with you.” And with that it was time for us to go rejoin our animal lover who was awaiting our arrival home.