Wow. Has it really been over a decade since my last post? Hard to believe how much life has been lived during that time. Let's see what were some of the highlights: a year after I wrote Death of a Brother I shut down my successful renovation company, sold our big house where my biz was based in the small coastal town north of Boston, moved to our smaller house in the White Mountains of NH, found out we were pregnant with our daughter Téa after shuttering my biz and having no work lined up in NH, struggling big time with losing my identity as a builder especially after taking a job with a local logger for that first winter making less money than my greenest employee was paid, eventually picking up a hammer again repairing old ski chalets that stoners built in the 70's, and joining the local volunteer fire department as a rookie firefighter and finding my groove with that calling.
What initiated all this change? I had a dream of a wolf before all of the above happened. Nothing really stood out in that first dream. We were in NH for the weekend as usual before returning to my biz and crew on Monday. The wolf and I seemed to be sizing each other up, nothing more. Hmmm I thought reflecting on that dream over coffee the next morning - I've never dreamt of a wolf before.
Maybe a month later I had another dream. In this dream my wife and youngest son (Téa was not conceived yet) and I were in a city - it was dark and chaotic. People screaming and running. Sirens going off. And coming out of an alley was the wolf from my dream. As our eyes met I understood that we were to follow him as he led us out of the city and into the forest. Hmmm. That was unusual for a dream of mine to be so vivid and real and instructive. Later that morning my neighbor in the flatlands texted me. "Are you watching this?" Watching what I replied? "Get on your laptop." I opened up Boston.Com and saw the coverage of the marathon bombing. I was stunned. And that dream felt so prophetic.
For some months earlier I had been getting this internal voice saying "get to higher ground". Leave the coast and the flatlands. Take your family to the mountains. Meghan was skeptical prior to the bombing. Then after that horrible incident she was onboard. 4 months after the marathon tradgedy we moved to NH.
3 years later we were packed up once again and on our way to Colorado. I guess you could say we went from higher ground to even higher ground. Why this move? My wife Meghan had received an astrological reading indicating that our life would flourish in four different geological locations: Bali, Machu Pichu, Teotihuacan, and Colorado. Colorado won the sweepstakes. Who was I to argue as I had perhaps even less reliable intel to go on from the call to leave the flatlands for NH? Trusting that this latest move would serve our small family I pretty reluctantly agreed to do it. My youngest son Bodhi and I were in some resistance leaving our sweet home in the woods. He and I drove some of our belongings across the country as Meg and Téa flew to Colorado meeting us the same day we arrived in the new town we planned to put roots down in. We were once again in the Unknown.
As I write that last sentence I see the clear progression of the past decade plus. It's going on 7 years since we moved to this tiny western Colorado town nestled against the rockies. Little did I know that getting to higher ground wasn't just about a change in physical elevation. I see now how it required a shift in consciousness. The invitation to clean up old patterns, stagnant beliefs, and make some internal changes to bring more clarity, more light, more love into my awareness. To move into a more soul driven purpose of why I'm here on this planet.
I owe that wolf a huge debt of gratitude...as he showed me a way to a better place. That place lives inside. And it's time to bare myself and share myself in a vulnerable way that prior to now I never dreamed of sharing.
That is why I started my podcast Evolution Sucks and have begun a new chapter as a Mindset Coach. Somehow it feels like getting to "higher ground". Stay tuned.
Thanks for reading!
Today in my morning meditation I was strongly feeling my middle brother David who passed away almost two months ago on November 20, 2023. He was 71 years old. A bit of preface here: He also was my abuser growing up (to clarify: emotional and physical, not sexual) and although I had reconciled those experiences through my own inner trauma work we never spoke directly about that time in our lives. We were never very close in our young adulthood although he was very generous when I moved to Encinitas CA to participate in don Miguel Ruiz’s Dreaming School in 2002. He and his wife Carol lived two towns over in Solana Beach. We interacted quite a bit sharing meals and dog walks on the beach and David took a real interest in my son Nick who was 12 at the time. It wasn’t until 20 years later that I became fully aware to the degree of harm I experienced at the hands of my brother while involved in some somatic therapy around my CPTSD diagnosis. I was becoming repeatedly trigg
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