Description

You have entered the house of the mystic.

All are welcome.

Except vampires.

Fuck vampires. We don't like their kind here.

Unless, of course, they pinky promise not to bite.

Though I cannot promise the same.

Anyhoo...

Welcome.

Fair warning: it's a little messy in here. A little chaotic. Not always fit for company.

But it's lived-in. It's warm. It's cozy.

And it's safe enough to be human in.

These are my voice notes to the Universe.

Recorded on my phone, wherever I happen to be when something moves through me: a thought, a question, a realization, a story, some shit I'm trying to work through, or one of those moments when the Universe whispers something and I think:

Well, fuck. I should probably press record.

This is a podcast about navigating our humanness.

The rawness. The messiness. The beauty. The shadow and the light. The sacred and the profane. The moments of profound clarity and the moments when we don't have a fucking clue what we're doing.

I talk about spirituality. Healing. Relationships. Sex. Shame. Addiction. Creativity. Grief. Our bodies. The nervous system. The Universe. And whatever else wanders through the door that day.

Sometimes I start recording because I think I know what I want to talk about.

Ten minutes later I'm standing somewhere completely different wondering how the fuck we got here.

That's kind of the point.

I don't have all the answers.

In fact, I don't believe it's my job to have all the answers.

I'm much more interested in the questions.

Can shadow and light exist at the same time?

Can something be sacred and completely fucking ridiculous?

Can I be deeply spiritual and still make questionable decisions?

Can I love the woman I'm becoming without rejecting the woman I am today?

Can I hold all of it—the divine and the deeply human—and somehow become the devil's advocate and divine intervention in one seamless breath?

I don't know.

Let's find out.

There are no polished versions of healing here. No pretending I've figured it all out before I press record.

You may hear birds. Cars. Wind. People. Long pauses. Me forgetting what the fuck I was talking about. Possibly an inappropriate joke. Occasionally an existential crisis.

That's life happening in real time.

Because I'm beginning to believe the mess isn't interrupting the transmission.

Sometimes the mess is where the transmission happens.

The house of the mystic isn't a pristine temple where everyone whispers and pretends they've transcended being human.

Apparently there's weed in the kitchen, beet juice on the counter, somebody's crying in one room, somebody's contemplating the nature of existence in another, and I've wandered off halfway through a sentence because Spirit just showed me a tree.

So come in.

Bring your questions. Your contradictions. Your shadow and your light.

You don't have to leave your humanness at the door.

Actually, I'd prefer you didn't.

Just remember the house rules.

Be curious. Be kind. Be human.

And for fuck's sake, don't bite anybody without consent.

These are my voice notes to the Universe.

And somehow, they found their way to you.