This silver bird takes me ‘cross the sky
Just one more hour and I’ll be home and dry
‘Cross the ocean, way above the clouds I come stealing
Feeling tired, but I feel good
‘Cause I did everything I said I would
I think of you and I know how you’ll be feeling

I got to see you, I got to be with you
We’ll make it better now in every way
It’s got to be you, it’s got to be you
Yes, from now on I’ll tell you every day

Way up here, above this timeless sea
I realize just what it is you mean to me
You give me something when I thought that everything we had was dying
I needed reason just to make me carry on
Well, I know better now, I know where I belong
I can’t imagine how I ever let myself just give up trying

Gerry Rafferty- Home & Dry from the album City to City

What a day. It begins when I hear from a mother from HPH who messaged me repeatedly yesterday threatening suicide and telling me she had run away from home. I reached out to others to see if they could reach out to her. I tried calling. She refused to answer. I messaged her she was needed here and left it in God’s hands. It was all I could do. She stopped messaging me. This morning, she sheepishly tells me she is still here and apologizes for what she put me through. I shame her thoroughly. I take any talk of suicide very seriously. Was she just seeking attention? Possibly. It’s not for me to take that for granted though. I tell her that she is needed, that she has responsibilities here yet. She’s been through hell in her life. I know people who have endured things that most of us can’t even imagine. When I’ve marveled at her bravery, she has told me that she had to endure these things to develop the empathy she’s developed. I tell her again, we signed up for this. We must endure. I give her the key to my survival, one day at a time. I don’t have to make it years, or months, or weeks. When I’m feeling the way she was feeling, I set my site on hours. I just need to make it until tonight. If I can make it until tonight, I can fall into bed, fall asleep, and start over tomorrow. I can always make it until tonight.

Tywana’s mother is moving today. She’s spent five years in independent living in a retirement center around the corner from us. That’s probably five years longer than she should have been in independent living. But, the time of scraping by has come to an end and it’s time to move her downstairs where someone can keep a closer eye on her 24×7. She’s not happy about it and she lets us know. Tywana has to take off half a day of work to help her make the move. All in all, it’s over eight hours of helping her move, rearranging her room, going to Costco to buy a refrigerator for her, delivering the refrigerator to her, etc. She’s in rare form today, complaining about life, asking twenty times in twenty minutes why Tywana has decided to move her down here, asking which floor she is currently on, asking which floor she has just come from, and asking who I am. She’s on a loop. This is the first time she has not recognized me. It’s understandable. I rarely visit her here, only to come to deliver something or fix something. She comes to our house. I’m also wearing a hat and coat since it’s literally 0º out. So, unfamiliar surroundings coupled with me in “disguise”. I understand why she’s having trouble placing me.

In between all the questions is the complaint. “I don’t know why I am still here. I can’t wait until the Good Lord calls me.” And, there are words thrown in that I didn’t know she even knew. She is cussing like a sailor. This is not the mild-mannered, soft-spoken woman I’ve known for over three decades. Dementia and depression have turned her into someone she would be ashamed of. All she wants is to be Home. Everyone tries to convince her she’s living in a great place. And, she is. The food is good. There are all kinds of activities. She’s loved by the residents and the staff. But, she wants to be Home and Dry. Nothing else will do. I fell ya, Margaret. I do.

When we get home, Tywana heads upstairs for some alone time. I can’t blame her. It’s been a hard day. Her mother is miserable and she’s had to spend the day listening to her complain while Tywana is sacrificing money (from not working) and time to help her. Margaret is convinced she can go back to Springfield and live on her own. But, she doesn’t lift a finger to move into her own place. It can be frustrating if you forget this isn’t really the Margaret we know.

The thing that makes us think we can’t make it is we think it will be like this “forever”. And, we know we cannot endure this pain forever. That causes us to seek an immediate end. I don’t blame my friend for wanting to kill herself. I don’t blame Margaret for wanting to go Home. Who the hell doesn’t want to go Home? I think of it every single day. I have suicidal thoughts. I also want an end. I tell this to my friend who’s been contemplating suicide. But, this is part of the plan. I’m on a mission. We’re all on a mission. We are walking each other back home, to mix metaphors with the Gerry Rafferty lyrics I opened with. I suppose he wrong this song while on the road thinking about having done his gigs and returning to his sweetie in the physical. But, when I listen to it 40 years after he performed it, I think about being on the return trip from my (completed) mission and seeing my sweetie.

To my fellow travelers who are just as weary as I am, hang in there. Nothing in this life lasts forever. Savor the good, because it’s fleeting. Endure the pain because it’s temporary. One day soon we’ll be Home and Dry.

p.s.- In my dreams after the stressful day, I’m playing golf again. I play golf often in my dreams. But, the physics are weird and we play on crazy courses. I’m with my friend Irene and we’re teeing off. Instead of the ball being on the ground, it sits on a tee that brings it up to almost chest high- like kids teeball. The driver is short but it’s still nearly impossible for me to play from this type of tee. Normally, I just try but today I say “Let’s look for a course where the tees are on the ground and we don’t have to tee off from indoors.”. While we’re looking around, I notice the pro shop. I want to buy some new clubs. But, I know I’m not spending money on frivolous stuff right now. Then, I realize that I’m on the “other side”. I know that if I think about this too much, I’ll wake up. But, I manage to stay in the dream a while longer. I can spend money here because here money is unlimited. I don’t have to be miserly. I’ll buy the clubs now and I’ll have them for the next time I’m back to play. I notice they are giving a lecture on the various brands that are available. I’m going to sit in. I look at some pretty amazing putters while I’m waiting. And, I look forward to coming back.

Cynics ask for “proof” of an afterlife. Anyone who has spent any amount of time doing serious research knows there is an abundance of evidence. There is certainly enough evidence to meet the legal hurdle of “beyond a reasonable doubt”.

If you’ve known me for any length of time, you have probably heard me talk about the “SoulPhone”. I am on the Board of the SoulPhone Foundation and I have had the pleasure of meeting Dr. Gary Schwartz, a pioneer (the pioneer?) in physically connecting with our loved ones in spirit. Gary has scientifically tested mediums “proving” that mediumship is real. He is working on technology that would allow us to communicate with our loved ones directly, not relying on the medium to relay the message.


In this interview, Dr. Schwartz is speaking with Suzanne Giesemann, who I would call a friend since meeting her several times and Shayna dropping in on her often. Suzanne features Shayna in one of her presentations.


There is an abundance of evidence that we are more than these bodies, that we pre-date them and we will most certainly survive the death of the body. Dr. Schwartz is on the verge of providing undeniable proof. As he likes to say, this is like the first flight of the Wright Brothers. The SoulPhone isn’t ready for prime time. That first flight of an aircraft covered just 12 seconds and 120′. But, it proved flight was possible and today, we take air travel as a given.

Once public demonstrations of the SoulPhone are happening, in a few months, we will have as close to “proof” as anything I can think of.

Click to listen to the episode

Last night’s dreamscape was interesting, to say the least. A couple of days ago, as in two, I started using Hemi-Sync meditations. Does this have anything to do with the dreams? Maybe.

It’s hard to describe some dreams because there is no physical reality in this plane where it’s possible. This is one of those dreams. In my dream, I was on a giant slide that was filled with meats that were grilling. I was sliding down the slide, as in a video game, passing the meats and unsticking them from the grill with a spatula as I went by. I noticed a nice fat juicy lobster and grabbed it for myself. When I got to the end of the slide, I sliced it down the middle and took off the head. Just then, it came alive and started trying to pinch me with its pincers. I was confused. People kept saying “Kill it. You’re torturing the poor thing.” But, I had sliced it down the middle and it was headless. I explained to them, I couldn’t be torturing it and it couldn’t be feeling anything because it was headless.

Fast forward. Next dream. I’m in a church like setting. Maybe a gymnasium in a church. Thomas John is there. I don’t know what he was wearing up top. His pants were loose black pants, like nylon sweats (I don’t imagine Thomas would ever wear nylon sweats. But, it’s a dream) I noticed that there was mud streaked up the back of his pants as if he had come running to the venue across a puddled parking lot. Thomas was teaching a class on raising your vibration. As he started speaking, it was almost as if he started speaking in tongues or chanting. People around the room were going full Pentecostal with raised, hands, swaying back and forth, shouting, the whole nine yards. I refused to be caught up in the moment. I remained analytical and kept up my skepticism. But, I could feel a vibration rising up in me. I looked down and my hands were shifting from my hands to other people’s hands and back, as I held them together in front of me- old, young, black, white, shifting. Again, I told myself to not be persuaded by the hype around me and to see if I genuinely felt something. I started involuntarily swaying back and forth. I said to myself there is something legitimate about Thomas. I could palpably feel my vibration rising.

This morning, the first thing I saw when I turned on my iPad was a message from someone asking me “How well do you know Thomas John the ‘Seatbelt Psychic’ guy?”. He went on to ask me if I think Thomas is legit. The message was time-stamped at 11:34 PM last night. Because I do some work for Thomas, I get this question every so often. I’ve tested Thomas in a blind test. I’ve watched him work. I observe him very closely, as I do the other mediums I’ve worked with. I’ve never dreamt about Thomas before though. I went to bed at 10 and turned off the lights around 10:30. This message came in at 11:30, while I was sleeping. After the dream, it was pretty easy to answer. Cue the Twilight Zone music.

This image has been in my mind since I first saw it a few days ago. Memes sometimes perfectly capture a profound message with just an image and a caption. This one, in less than dozen words, a single grainy image conveys a universal feeling, or damn close to one anyway.

We all feel overwhelmed in life at times. “What the hell is happening to me? Why the hell is it happening? What did I do to deserve this?” Then, we find out about soul planning. And, these people tell us not only does “God” have a plan for your life, which you may have been told in Sunday school, the Universe has a plan for you and you participated in this plan.

You didn’t start to exist the moment you were born. And, you don’t cease to exist the moment you die. You “pre-existed”. There was never a “time” when you didn’t exist. And, you chose to hop on this rollercoaster.

Rollercoasters are insane. You make climbs full of anticipation of the fall. You know the drop is coming. You know it’ll drop your stomach right out of your body. You know your heart will race. Your body will tell you that you are plummeting to your death. So, why do you get on a rollercoaster. If you woke up in the middle of a rollercoaster ride and had never seen a rollercoaster, you would surely think you were dying. If you could find the person who put you onto that death trap, you’d wring their neck.

But, we drive hours to amusement parks. We pay money for entry. We stand in line sometimes for hours to get onto a ride that is only on average about three minutes long. As much fun as a roller coaster is, we wouldn’t get on one that lasted hours or years. It’s only three minutes. This lifetime, the 70 years or so we live on average isn’t even three minutes from the perspective of our eternal selves. We hop on because we can see the entire length of the track from a perspective outside of the rollercoaster. We do it because thousands have been on the rollercoaster before and they survived and enjoyed the ride. We can see it’s just a loop. We’ll hop on, be thrilled for 180 seconds or so and it will drop us off right back at the platform where we got on. While we’re on the rollercoaster, we can pretend to be frightened and feel the rush and, at any time, glance back at the platform which will be here in no time. Our spirit guides, right here holding onto our clenched hands, are loving the ride. We are never alone, we are never in any real jeopardy.

Every once in a while, we forget it’s just a ride and the fear grips us. When this happens, sit down, take some deep breaths and listen to Jem.

The mundane greeting “What’s happening?” is often met with a “Not much”. No one really wants to know everything that’s going on in your life. Sometimes, I want to tell them what is happening.

This morning, the guy I helped run a focus group for his upcoming book/course, emailed me and asked me for an update on what is going on with me. He gave me a little free coaching when we worked together. We haven’t talked since early December. For the first time, I wrote out what I’ve got going on and I realized why I’m feeling overwhelmed right now.

The last several years I’ve been frustrated looking for opportunities and wondering when doors would begin opening for me. In Phoenix in May of 2016 I heard a sermon “It’s Hell In The Hallway” that stuck with me. When one door closes behind you, you’re in a hallway looking at many doors wondering when and if any of them will open.

Late last year things started shifting. It seems all kinds of doors are opening up. As I sit here in January 2019, a dizzying array of possibilities swirls around in my head. Looking down that long hallway, doors are opening and cracks of light are shining through. I can’t go through all of the doors though. So, choices will have to be made.

1.) Helping Parents Heal has invited me to join the Board of Directors. So, that happened. I’m on the board of directors for HPH.

2.) HPH asked me to form a new group for parents and mediums to meet on Facebook. HPH is no longer affiliated with that group that I started. So, I’m running a new Facebook group in addition to being a moderator on Afterlife Topics (7,000 people or so) and running the HPH Online Group (4,000 people and counting).

3.) I’m working very part-time for Thomas John- The Seatbelt Psychic. I do his social media and customer service. That’s about eight hours a week.

4.) I’m working on a partnership in a new business venture. The idea is to have courses/materials around the afterlife and healing from grief. We hope to launch in the next couple of weeks. We have created a Facebook page and will eventually have a website.

5.) I’m taking a MasterHeart course with business consultant George Kao. It’s a year-long training/collaboration with 45 other entrepreneurs. The idea is to learn how to launch my own business outside of Treasured Locks. I will use ideas from this in whichever business ventures pan out.

6.) I’m a technical assistant for the San Francisco Theological Seminary- I’ll be working with them on five courses this year- at a minimum.

7.) I moved my blog to a new platform. I’m trying to get more traffic to it and use it as a platform to monetize some of the work I’m doing and my writing. I met a consultant I’m working with on this.

8.) Treasured Locks seems to be picking up a bit. I might have finally found an advertising scheme that works. I am working with my digital advertising agency to see if it makes sense to pump more money into that and get it to a steady revenue stream again.

9.) Ty took a full-time job working from home. The company is based in Tucson. She started Monday. She’s there this week for training. So, this week I’m packing orders, answering the phone, etc. doing all of the Treasured Locks stuff. We’ll have to see what happens with Treasured Locks and how we’ll have time for it.

10.) I started writing a course/book on grief. I’m not sure what form it will eventually take. I’m just putting thoughts on “paper” for now.

11.) I’m still volunteering for HPH, running the online group and the evening meetings several times a month. I play referee for 4,000 grieving parents on the group. I’m also a caring listener and take phone calls from parents.

12.) I’m on the SoulPhone board of directors- I’m the Secretary for the SoulPhone Foundation working with Dr. Gary Schwartz, Dr. Mark Pitstick and others on what could be the invention of the last several centuries.

So yeah. That’s what’s happening. This year will be about choices and time management.

January 13th, 2019- One thousand two hundred and ninety-nine days since Shayna’s “heavenly birthday.” Three weeks after Christmas, we finally had Tywana’s family in for the weekend to wrap up the Christmas celebration of 2018.

This winter has been wet, gray, and somewhat cold, but nothing like the bitter cold of January 2000, the year Shayna came into our lives. January 13th of that year was bitterly cold. I remember coming home from the hospital and putting out the stork sign in snow and ice and with a bitter wind blowing. As if on cue, yesterday, we got our first snow of the season. There are about six inches of snow on the ground. It’s a gray, snowy Sunday morning.

Tywana is starting her new job tomorrow. Today she is flying to Tuscon. As I type this, she sits in the airport in Covington, KY. Her sister, Shell. and her boys are in the car on the way back to West Virginia. Kayla and her boyfriend will be packing up soon and driving back to Toledo to begin her final semester in school there. I will be alone on Shayna’s birthday and for the week.

Yesterday, we had Costco pizza and chocolate cake. These were Shayna’s favorites. We did a Yankee gift swap with Tywana’s family. All of the nephews (there are only boys on Ty’s side of the family) are “men” now. Wesley, the youngest is 6’5″ and will be 21 this June. Tywana’s mother came over. She is so confused now that she asked several times whose house this is. She still recognizes all of her children, but she has trouble recognizing some of her grandchildren. As the time drew close to take her back to Cottingham, her retirement home, about five minutes away, she said she could get back herself. We asked her how she proposed to do this since she has no car, cannot walk without assistance, and can barely walk with assistance. She said she got herself here; she can get herself back. Curious, we asked how she thought she got here and where she thought she was. She thought she was at Cottingham. She prays daily to go “home” alternatively referring to Springfield, where she lived her entire life until the age of 77, and home to heaven where she can be free of pain, free of the confusion of dementia, and with her beloved husband, Felton. Who can blame her?

This morning, when I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the time 07:07 on my clock. I immediately thought about Shayna’s birthday. As is my practice upon waking, I listed three things to be grateful for today. It’s getting easier to come up with the three. Today, one of the things that came to me was that Shayna’s exit was easy. Increasingly, I believe in soul planning and exit points. When we first discovered Shayna’s heart issue, it was after we had found out about her rheumatoid arthritis. Shayna’s blood RA factors were incredibly high when we discovered that she had RA. We had to take her to occupational therapy. They told us about various devices she could use to make things easier for her. They taught her different ways to tie her shoes and fit her with prosthetic devices for her shoes. I envisioned a life of Shayna having gnarled hands and living in pain. The doctor prescribed powerful medications; which kept her arthritis under control. We were blessed. She suffered no side effects from these drugs that compromised her immune system and came with lists of possible side effects that included cancer and death. But, I didn’t feel blessed. My health child was now on medication that she might have to be on for life. I fought every day to simply be grateful for that day and try not to think about the suffering she might endure if the drugs stopped working or if the side effects came. Every week when I had to give that injection, and every week when I had to count out those seven poisonous pills to take to her as she slept (she had to take them on an empty stomach several hours before eating), I couldn’t decide if I was helping her or poisoning her.

The heart condition Shayna had was supposed to be no more than a minor annoyance. Yet, she had two procedures, had to wear a monitor for a month, and eventually whatever was going in her heart took her life. She was seeing a cardiologist. Shayna tore her ACL and had to have surgery and recover from that. Her last few years were tough for a little girl. I wondered when she would get a break and life would return to “normal”.

So, where is the gratitude in this? Shayna didn’t have to deal with the possible ravages of arthritis had the drugs stopped working. She didn’t have to deal with the side effects of decades on drugs that were so hard on her immune system and liver. She was able to play basketball and volleyball, at a highly competitive level, right up until the day she slipped over to the Other Side. I am grateful for what Shayna, and I, didn’t have to go through. In those days I would wonder, if I left before Shayna (which was the plan), who would take care of her should things go badly with her health.

Of course, I would prefer to have Shayna here with me. The celebrations without her are heartbreaking. Every Christmas, every birthday, every New Year’s sucks. I have shed many, many tears thinking about what we are missing without Shayna being here. Thanksgiving, Kayla’s birthday, Christmas, and Shayna’s birthday all come in less than a two-month span. But, the life of these celebrations with Shayna is a fantasy. Had Shayna not taken the exit point she took her health, like everyone else’s, was not guaranteed. I can say this out loud now. Our healthy baby girl was not healthy when she left, as much as I was in denial about it. I wanted to call her healthy and I did. Maybe she took that exit to spare all of us a life that would have been painful. God only knows what life lay ahead of us had she stayed.

I am beyond grateful for the 15 years I had with Shayna as my daughter here. What a blessing she was and continues to be. Shayna was a force of nature from the moment she was born (I’m sure before). That first night in the hospital, her cry was so strong, forceful, and seemingly purposeful, the nurses told us that we were going to have our hands full with this one. And we did. Shayna always knew what she wanted and went after it with dogged determination. When she was two or three, I said I hoped she would use her power for good, not for evil. And she did. Shayna lived her time here to the full. She inspired those around her. She lifted them. She led by example. Today, I see the ripples of her life continuing to spread. I feel her with me and am learning to feel that more and more. Last night, Tywana said to me that January is almost half over, remarking on how fast time goes. Yes. Time does go fast. And, I’m grateful for that. Every day that passes is one day less standing between my baby and me. Happy 19th Birthday, baby. Thanks for being mine.

Do not muzzle an ox while it is threshing grain is one of those obscure Bible references that I remember from my fundamentalist Christian days. It is one that I certainly did not think would ever be relevant in my life. But, it’s been coming up as I am doing this work and working with others who are in the “business” of helping others. Ministry is another word for service. Anyone who serves is a minister- paid or unpaid. What’s fascinating to me is since biblical times, people have balked against the notion that someone who serves others in a spiritual capacity should be rewarded fairly for their work.  I say this has been true since biblical times since the author of 1 Timothy found it necessary to write this down: 

Elders who lead effectively are worthy of double honor, especially those who work hard at preaching and teaching.  For the Scripture says, “Do not muzzle an ox while it is treading out the grain, and,The worker is worthy of his wages.”

1 Timothy 5:17-18

The reference is saying when an ox is doing the work of treading out the grain, let it eat freely while it’s doing the work. 

Why do I bring this up? I work with many people who are teaching, providing counseling, delivering hope, peace, and comfort to people and who have to charge for their work. Even now as I type this, I find myself hesitant to use the word “work” because we expect when someone does “work” that we will compensate that person. I say they “have to charge for their work” as if there is something wrong with charging for it. And I say that because there is resentment from people about charging for certain types of work. Several days ago, Alan Hugenot, a tested and certified medium, wrote a long piece about why he has to charge for his work and why he charges the amount he does. As an engineer, Alan laid out the costs to him for doing his work. He travels to be trained, he has an opportunity cost because every hour he spends doing readings is an hour he cannot be doing something else.  The way he broke it down, he showed how many readings he has to do at $150/reading just to “break even”, given his costs. For many years, Alan did not charge for his mediumship. He’s a member of the Spiritualist church and would do readings for free. He volunteered in projects on mediumship. People kept asking him to do readings though. My understanding is he is a superb medium. To accommodate those requests, he has had to start charging. If he’s going to do readings all day, he needs to make money doing readings. And, now he feels the need to justify his reversal on his policy of not charging for readings.

I posted Alan’s piece on a couple of the groups I run to help people understand why mediums have to charge and why some charge “so much”. They have expenses like we all do. Those who travel and teach, who put out videos, who have websites have business expenses in addition to having to pay the mortgage, and utilities, and buy food, like the rest of us. The backlash against the piece was so severe, I ended up taking it down. More than one person left the group. Some called it “fishing” (even though Alan is not a member of our group and didn’t post the piece). This was in a group specifically set up for parents to speak with mediums. But, the idea that a medium would explain why they can’t simply do free readings was offensive to some in the group.

I hear people complaining that certain mediums and healers charge what they charge. Some give heavily discounted services to parents. Most volunteer hours of time. Services prices range greatly from $50-60 an hour to $800 or more an hour. People will compare someone who tours nationally/internationally and must maintain a staff to handle their business; to someone whose partner is the primary breadwinner and who does this work on the side. Just yesterday, one of the people I work with was criticized for charging $250 an hour. There are a couple of problems with that. First, her normal rate is $150 an hour.  The person accusing her of charging $250 got it wrong. Second, she has been doing readings at $20 an hour for parents. And, let’s look at $150 an hour. When I worked for a consulting company, over a decade ago, we billed UNIX consultants out at rates higher than that, routinely. A highly skilled person, who is self-employed, who only gets paid for the hours they work, needs to charge a certain amount to have enough money to live.  Self-employed people need to pay their own health insurance costs. They have to pay for their own websites, travel expenses, etc. 

Now, I have to make this personal. Yesterday, I took a survey that asked what my dream job would be. My dream job would be doing exactly what I’m doing voluntarily now.  I volunteer for several organizations in positions that would be paid if they were not “spiritual”. I had a life coach ask me what I would do if money were no object. I’d teach. I’d help people get through this thing called life. I hesitate to call what I do “work” because I don’t get financial compensation for it. But, it’s just what other people do for work. I’m composing emails, leading online sessions, moderating groups, taking phone calls, providing technical support, counseling, etc. Sunday morning, while I was out walking, I had someone start messaging me in the middle of my walk. I explained I was out and had somewhere to be at a certain time. Then, she wanted a phone call from me. She talked to me for over twenty minutes on a Sunday morning about how she could begin working with Helping Parents Heal. Last night, I was taking a night off, hanging with friends. We had a meeting. But, I left it to others to spend some time with friends. Messages kept coming in, people wanting to talk to me about various things. I want to make this very, very clear. I am not complaining. This is what I love to do. People ask me why I keep taking it on. I take it on because I feel like this is what I was put here to do. I would do it for free. I do it for free.

Sunday, I happened to catch Anita Moorjani giving a Facebook Live talk on Money!!!! (I believe that’s exactly how she titled it). She was talking about how empaths struggle with money. Empaths tend to go into healing and teaching professions which (other than doctors) often don’t pay well. Empaths tend to give more than they get anyway so they feel bad asking for money, especially for things they would do for free. Compounding this is the notion that “spiritual work” doesn’t deserve compensation. It’s somehow profane to ask for money for this type of work. People have no problem asking an energy healer or a medium to set aside time and do work for them for free. But, no one asks a plumber to fix their toilet for free. You don’t take your car to a mechanic and not expect to pay for it. The Facebook Live was her most viewed talk she had given. I watched the comments as nearly everyone who follows Anita said they have a terrible relationship with money. They wish they didn’t have to deal with money. These are all sentiments I’ve had myself. I commented myself that I have to do what I hate to do. I have to focus on making money by any means necessary, so that I can afford to do what I love to do, for free. That is not a sustainable dynamic. It has to change.

The good news is some revenue streams are opening up for me. The class I taught this fall has turned into five classes scheduled for next year. I’ll pick up a couple of thousand dollars there. I got a 40% hourly raise in addition to picking up more classes. In a couple of hours, I’ll clock in and work for one of the mediums I have built a relationship with. It’s not what I want to be doing long-term, but it’s a step. And, I’m working on another opportunity that will move me closer to doing my own teaching- for money.

2019 is the year to make a transition to doing more of what I feel like I was put here to do and being compensated for it. I’ve joined a group of like-minded people that I think will help me find my way. I’m paying to be a member of this group. I feel a kinship with them already even though it’s just started a couple of days ago. Asking for money is uncomfortable. But, it’s necessary.