The Spirit Guide Who Called Me “Mom”

Losing one of your own is one of the most traumatic experiences a person can endure.

My heart goes out to anyone who has faced this kind of loss.

When my son Cory passed, I went through a powerful awakening—and he began coming to me as my Spirit Guide.

I learned to communicate with him, and over time, it became seamless.

Soon after his transition, it was as if he said to me, “I’m finished now, and I’m going to the other side where I can be of more service.”

Within days, he appeared in a dream with a snake coiled around his arm and said, “I need you to face your fears, Mom, because you have a big job ahead of you—and it’s going to require a lot of courage.”

From that day forward, I made it my life’s mantra to face my fears, allow, and open to love.

Over the years, Cory has continued to share messages of wisdom and love.

When I once asked him, “Why did you come?”

he replied, “I came to shake things up—and I had to be shaken up in the process.”

I realized the scope of Cory’s work was far beyond traditional human understanding.

In this lifetime, he chose to take on addiction as a means of bringing transformation and liberation—not only for himself, but for the collective.

After a difficult phone conversation one day, I asked him, “What do I do with that person?”

He said simply, “That’s her reality. Let her have her reality.”

That wisdom changed me. I stopped trying to fix or change people and began allowing others to have their process without judgment.

Another time, I asked, “Why did you resist me so much?”

He answered, “I wasn’t really resisting you. I was resisting the parts of myself that you triggered in me.”

That one truth helped me understand others—and myself—on a much deeper level.

And one day, when I was really missing him, I suddenly heard him say, “Can you be happy for me?”

It took my breath away. But my heart answered quickly: “Yes, I can.”

That question shifted everything—from the illusion of loss and death to the understanding that he never truly left.

I feel so much gratitude for Cory and for all that he continues to do with me to create more love and joy in this world.

Soul Compadres Across Lifetimes

I love this picture of me and Cory, taken at my son Landon’s wedding.

It captures our essence — two compadres who’ve been journeying together for many lifetimes.

Before he passed, I only saw Cory as my son. I didn’t yet understand the soul-level truth that we incarnate within family groupings, taking on different roles and relationships in each lifetime according to what we’ve come to learn and create.

Cory and I chose an intense path this time because the work we’re doing together has a wide-reaching scope — it touches many.

One of the things I appreciate most about him is that, even before he transitioned, he had reached a depth of maturity that allowed him to share real wisdom with me. Those teachings prepared me for what was to come.

When he began communicating from the other side, I didn’t ask what it was like “there” or seek to validate his existence beyond the veil.

I wasn’t looking for information about there — I needed guidance about how to live here.

Everything Cory offers is beautifully practical.

His wisdom always points me toward grounding divine energy through embodiment — not toward escape or chasing a high.

My goal isn’t to feel better; it’s to be free.

And Cory, being Cory, still likes to have fun.

Once he woke me up by physically tickling me under the arm.

Another time, on 4/4 at 4:44 p.m. (his number is 4), I was lying in his hammock when what I thought was a stink bug landed on my chest.

I tumbled out laughing, scolding him for being so naughty.

When I looked down, it wasn’t a bug at all — just a leaf!

Moments later, I checked my email and found a message from one of his high school friends who had randomly sent me a batch of photos of Cory — all showing that same mischievous grin.

If you’ve experienced the loss of someone you love, my heart goes out to you.

Please remember: they are still with you, always — just in another dimension.

Transforming Pain Into Love

Life has a way of slapping us with the pain of loss, disappointment, and unbearable struggles. Sometimes the blow is so fierce that it knocks the wind out of us, leaving us unsure of how to go on. The pain can feel overwhelming—so heavy that coping seems nearly impossible, and working through it feels out of reach.

Most of us instinctively try to resist, distract, or numb those painful feelings. We bury ourselves in work, relationships, entertainment, substances, or anything that can help us avoid what we don’t want to feel. But what if there was another way? What if, instead of running from our pain, we could allow it to become a doorway into love?

I know that might sound impossible, but I assure you—it’s not only possible, it’s profoundly doable. In fact, it’s far less complicated than most of us imagine. The real challenge isn’t the process itself but the fact that it asks us to do the exact opposite of what we’ve been conditioned to believe will help us heal.

Through the intense grief of losing my son Cory, I discovered that sadness, fear, anxiety, and anger weren’t enemies to be conquered but parts of myself that longed for connection.

These feelings were not proof that I was broken; they were the parts of me that felt exiled from love. For so long, I treated them as intruders—unwelcome guests in my heart. But over time, I learned something life-changing: when I stopped labeling them as bad or wrong and began viewing them with compassion, something shifted.

It was as if I had locked these emotions in the basement of my heart, refusing to let them see the light of day. Yet, when I finally opened the door and welcomed them, I realized they had been waiting all along to be seen, heard, and felt. They weren’t trying to destroy me—they were crying out to be loved.

The irony is that the very feelings I had spent a lifetime fighting and pushing away were actually working overtime to protect me. They had suffered greatly on my behalf, attempting to get me what I longed for—safety, belonging, love—only to be rejected by me again and again.

That realization broke me open. I no longer wanted to treat these parts of myself as enemies. I wanted to make peace with them.

But trust takes time. Just like any relationship, learning to befriend the wounded parts of myself required patience and consistency.

It asked me to view and experience myself as my Higher Self—as Love itself—and to live from that perspective. From there, I could embrace my human self with tenderness, offering her the care and safety she had long been searching for.

This process hasn’t been instantaneous. It has required me to slow down, be still, and become deeply present with myself. It has meant calming my overstimulated nervous system, reframing the thoughts I had carried for years, and choosing to release viewpoints that no longer serve me. It’s been a restructuring of the way I see myself and the world, flipping everything I once believed upside down.

Now, instead of denying or pushing away my sadness and fear, I open my heart to them with compassion. And in doing so, I witness the most extraordinary alchemy: these heavy feelings begin to dissolve back into Love.

The very places that once felt unbearable have become sacred openings into tenderness, understanding, and connection.

But here’s the key—it doesn’t happen through concepts alone. Knowing this in theory isn’t enough.

Transformation happens only through practice. It’s in the actual moments of sitting with myself, breathing through discomfort, and offering love to the hurting places that the shift occurs.

The good news is that the practices are simple. They don’t require years of training, mountains of willpower, or complicated rituals. They only require willingness.

When you begin to apply these practices, you’ll find yourself little by little, day by day, learning to love the parts of you that once felt unlovable. Before long, you’ll notice something radical—you’ll be loving the hell out of yourself.

And that is how you embody the Love that you already are.

Beyond Modalities: The Heart of Embodiment

I’ve been reflecting a lot on embodiment lately.

In spiritual communities, it’s common to immerse ourselves in modalities that promise growth—astrology, yoga, Ayurveda, veganism, psychedelics.

Each can be beautiful, yet the danger lies in mistaking the modality for the destination.

Too often, new insights remain as mental concepts.

When knowledge isn’t lived, it becomes stagnant—a weight rather than a liberator.

It’s like focusing on the finger pointing to the moon instead of the moon itself.

Embodiment is different.

It means turning inward instead of reaching outward for something to “fix” us.

It’s the practice of integrating wisdom through lived experience.

It’s unconditional Love expressed as the willingness to meet each feeling—joy, grief, anger, fear—with acceptance and Love.

Paradoxically, this path is simple and practical, though unfamiliar to most of us.

We often approach healing backwards—striving harder when it doesn’t work, convinced we just need more effort.

But healing isn’t meant to be forced.

Yes, life brings difficult experiences, but moving through them with presence teaches us how to heal gently, lovingly, with less struggle.

The ego resists this truth.

It thrives on effort, control, and fear. When you stop feeding it, it trembles at the thought of death—or rebirth.

At some point, you may grow tired of trying so hard.

That’s when surrender becomes possible.

That’s when Love takes over.

That’s when embodiment becomes real.