My life has not all been a joy ride. The greatest and most humbling gift I can bring is being transparent with you: I've had to take the journey through my own personal shadowlands to be here today.​

My life has not all been a joy ride. The greatest and most humbling gift I can bring is being transparent with you: I've had to take the journey through my own personal shadowlands to be here today.​

Beginnings
I started this lifetime as an early Indigo in a sleepy suburb outside Chicago. I was a wounded, wild, insecure, power-mad, suicidal girl who landed herself in a mental hospital at 16 years old.

I was ready to heal and face it all back then, but people awakening to who they truly are was rare and misunderstood in the early 1960s — as it still is, in many places, today.

When I told my psychiatrist I could almost hear a little voice within me, and that if he'd help me listen to it I knew I could find my true self, he told me I was a mad girl who needed long-term psychoanalysis.

Hearing voices, in his strict medical training, was a form of insanity. I spent a long, dark winter on his couch, listening to him take notes while I lay there, hallucinating.

As spring came, that same inner voice told me my doctor knew nothing about how to actually help me heal. I ended things with psychiatry then, walking out in tears as he scolded me for running from his authority.

Something in me knew he had no real knowledge of the path to self-liberation or sanity — that his job was to help people function within the system, not to help them find their own freedom or truth.

Moving to San Francisco
I made my way to San Francisco at 20, all by myself. I woke up my first morning to an earthquake, and found the strength to take a taxi straight to Haight-Ashbury. It was shortly after the 1967 Summer of Love.

Drugs had sadly infiltrated that wave of awakening that once had thousands dancing in the streets with love and freedom in their hearts. I didn't yet understand the forces that would work to shut down something like that once it started to spread.

Hells Angels on coke wandered hippie hill. Everyone was stoned. But that inner voice still brought me joy through all of it.

I basked in the California sun, amazed by the music at the Fillmore, the organic food, the little shops, and the many gatherings that brought us together to move with nature and share in each other's company. It was a phenomenal time for so many — until it got commercialized and picked apart.

I was a lost gypsy girl following a spark inside me that never abandoned me, calling me toward some new promise for myself and for humanity. I stumbled forward, a voyager riding the edge, jumping from one search for answers to the next.

Those years birthed a lot of mind-blowing creativity and vision, out of a real hunger to unite and love each other again. The Summer of Love was a real wave, grounded in something larger than any of us — an opening toward a more balanced, more feminine way of being in the world.

I'm sad to say that wave wasn't fully understood by the people living through it, and it eventually got absorbed and sold back to us. I got to experience the wild, expansive experiments in consciousness that promised to birth a new world of love and justice five decades ago.

I, and many of my brothers and sisters, savored the highs and endured the devastating lows as that beautiful, chaotic circus of hope met commercial interest and manipulation.

I dove into communities, co-ops, techniques, schools, metaphysics, healers, therapists, counselors, educators, visionaries, psychics, channelers, and mentors.

I learned a lot, but my questions only multiplied. Something wasn't being addressed deeply enough to actually produce a different result from the same old suppressive, greed-based system I was hoping to escape. I was compelled to ask: "What is really going on here?"​

Uncovering our complicity
I had vowed to myself, when I left my family and my life in Chicago, that one day I'd go back to that mental ward — where my roommates couldn't even remember their own names after shock therapy — and bring some real healing with me.

Love wasn't permitted in those psychiatric hospitals, where troubled people are still locked away and medicated within our mental health system.

In San Francisco, I earned a Master's Degree in Psychology and became a "professional," working in psychiatric hospitals in New Zealand and elsewhere. My time back inside that system, combined with my earlier years as a hippie, brought me to the same conclusion both times:

We have to find new, authentic ways to heal ourselves and break free of the patterns of control we've internalized — because those patterns live inside all of us. We all carry pieces of it, and we have to find a real way through.

I longed to face that truth, but I couldn't bring people back to themselves inside those institutional walls. And the New Age movement that grew out of the '60s never fully addressed the deeper, trauma-based fear and conditioning running underneath our collective consciousness — conditioning that only grows stronger the more we deny our own part in carrying it forward.

I was compelled to face that our complicity with these larger systems of control had to be understood, and that we needed to find a real way to break free of it.

My shadowland journey & healing
I was blessed with mentors — real revolutionaries — who offered me truth, love, and support I had never known before. That support gave me what I needed to begin the real work of integration, diving deep into my own shadowlands. There, I glimpsed a truth I couldn't have found any other way: I was the one keeping my own inner suffering alive. It was an inside job.

I did need others along the way — as mirrors, not as people to fix me. I didn't need to be rescued. I needed to be held accountable to my own healing.

I saw that I had cleverly, purposefully hidden myself away — and that I needed to love the part of me that had cut itself off from life and kept me from building the one I actually wanted. I had disassociated from myself to survive abuse. I had neglected my own needs and abandoned my own gifts.

What grew in that space instead wasn't truth, integrity, sanity, joy, love, or a sense of my own agency — it was a kind of quiet complicity I didn't even recognize as a choice, because it hadn't felt like one.

I discovered parts of myself that had been deeply complicit in my own entrapment. My book, Stealing the Moon, tells this story — I wrote it as creative non-fiction, using Dr. Natalie Stern as an anti-hero stand-in for my own awakening, and for facing the deep, tangled patterns that had shaped me across a lifetime.

What I found was that I had, without realizing it, become someone acting from old, destructive programming — toward myself and others. I resisted seeing this at first. Aysha Love, a deeply dedicated mentor, helped me past my own blind spots, to where a fuller truth was waiting. What I found there opened something fresh in me, and started a process that finally broke a lot of old chains loose.

Since then, the layers have kept surfacing, with the help of several more wise mentors I'm endlessly grateful for.

The birth of Quantum Disentanglement
My course, Quantum Disentanglement (previously called Shadow Synthesis), was born out of the process I went through to find my way back to myself.

Am I now perfect, sitting on some throne, telling everyone else how to heal? Hell no. Healing happens in layers, over time. I'm still doing my own work while I walk alongside others doing theirs.

Through what I've lived and learned, I've facilitated shadow work for many people, with results that have genuinely surprised even me. It's helped people find real peace, live more honestly, and step into more of who they actually are.

Thank you for hearing my story.