Some people don’t realize how hard it is to make that first phone call to a therapist.  It’s not the call that’s hard; it’s the asking for help . . . admitting that we need help.  In college I majored in psychology, a subject that lit my mind with fascination, and therapy led me back into the world of personal and psychological development.  It felt like the hand of Destiny had once again inspired me to relocate and I moved to Boston, a hub in the 1980s for personal growth, particularly for survivors of incest and child abuse. 

Once I had stepped into this stream of self-awareness and self-healing, I allowed the current to carry me along into broader and deeper experiences of learning and growing, where I found wisdom at every turn.  I had the opportunity—the motivation and the courage—to attend personal and spiritual growth classes and workshops at various places such as:​

  • Springhill in Ashby, MA, where I shared my story in the company of others for the first time, learned about meditation and comfort in believing in a new day, and trust—demonstrated by the blind-folded teddy bears;
  • Interface in Cambridge, MA where I became immersed in different ways of seeing the world, spirituality, and myself;
  • The Kripalu Center in Stockbridge, MA where I studied yoga and was transmitted to an altered state of consciousness through Hindu chanting;
  • The Omega Institute in Reinbeck, NY where I spent a decade of vacations dancing, singing, swimming, and learning from Buddhist teachers, couple’s therapists, and spiritual teachers from all around the world;
  • The Findhorn Foundation in Forres, Scotland where I played “The Game of Transformation” with an international gathering of seekers from France, Britain and Holland—and was transformed.
  • The Association for Research and Enlightenment in Virginia Beach, VA where I began my practice of greeting the earth and the sky each day with curiosity and gratitude.  It’s where I learned to lift my wings up and fly!
  •  There were lectures at Massachusetts General Hospital on trauma, and seminars, workshops, and Sufi dances of Universal Peace offered throughout Boston and Portland, Maine that informed me, inspired me, enlightened me, encouraged me, and cheered me onward.
  • It was in Portland, following the devastating end of my engagement, that I joined a 12-Step recovery group.  Up until this time, I had been an arrogant addict, thinking I didn’t need this kind of group in order to live a sober life.  Well, I did need them—not just to stay sober from addictions to substances and unhealthy behaviors, but I needed their companionship.  They held my hand through the darkest time and generously shared much insight and wisdom born from the pain of their own lives.

Every one of these experiences opened my heart a bit more, introduced me to more bits of myself, helped me to raise my wings, and on the wind of grace I was and am able to keep on keeping on—through pain, loss, heartbreak, fear, confusion, and even the darkest nights.  I remember hearing a quote about healing during the early years on this path: “Healing is a journey, not a sudden landing.”  For me, the journey continues . . .