Friday, January 27, 2017

Getting Freaky in Denver--You Channeled What Now?

I've been into the woo-woo stuff for years. I've dabbled in crystals, tarot cards, spiritualists, psychics and mediums, name it and I'm open to learn about it. So last week when the opportunity to attend a channeler presented itself, I thought, 'why not?' Off I went.

In the basement of a historical home in Denver's Governor's District was a cute office space lit with candles and incense and earth-toned walls. Although small, twelve of us fit perfectly in the main room. Out came a petite gray-haired woman with a New York accent, our hostess for the night. She explained that she channeled spirit guides and spoke in their light language. I nodded, sipped my water, unwrapped a Hershey's kiss (I'd secretly pocketed a handful when I entered), and prepared to be open-minded.

She started by talking about love and shedding our stories of what we believe to be true. This resonated with me as someone who's studied self-awareness for over a decade. I am reading on the subject of perceptions and universal connection all of the time. I honestly believe that we can tell ourselves a story so many times that it becomes somewhat skewed and that the truth lies between the lines.

As I'm nodding and sitting there, thinking I'm giving off a peaceful vibe as I allow the Herhey's Kiss to melt in my mouth, she spins her head toward me and says, "why are you here?"

My eyes probably bugged out a bit at being put on the spot amidst twelve strangers, but I answered, "I'm looking for clarity, it's been a confusing twelve months."

She rolls up to me (she had a stool with wheels), stares at me and starts pulling at her shirt. One hand yanked at her shoulder while the other yanked at her mid-section, and she says, "You are chaos, you are being ripped apart by everyone in your life, you are bouncing from here to there like a person caught in a tornado, why is this happening to you? This is how I see your energy--chaos."

By now I've swallowed the chocolate and am sitting at attention. The rest of the room fades into the background as I stare at this petite older woman who is suddenly pulling at herself as if trying to get free of a net.

And I wanted to cry.

She was right.

She goes on to say, "What is that you want? Why don't you know? You need to get still. You need to be courageous. You need to become the eye of the storm. You need stillness. You have too much responsibility on your shoulders, what can you let go of? You need to let go to find the clarity you seek."

All of those books I'd been reading, all of the practice I've done, all of the years of study where I'd truly believed I'd made progress and had gotten in touch with my soul went out the window. I become agitated. I said, "I can't let go."

I'm a single mom, a solo-preneur, with two kids in college and a mortgage! What exactly am I supposed to let go of exactly? Responsibilities are responsibilities, right?

She looked at me with piercing, knowing eyes and said, "You can but you need to be courageous."

What the hell are we talking about? I'm thinking. How am I not courageous? I'm a fucking warrior!

But maybe I'm not? Maybe I've been telling myself a story of how I am and what is and what is not?

What truth lies between the lines of my story that I haven't acknowledged?

She then wheeled over to another woman and I--as quietly as possible--unwrapped another Hershey's Kiss and plopped it in my mouth. My hand was shaking. I'd said I wanted clarity but was actually more confused. I'd gone there feeling peaceful and happy, excited to try something new. I'd thought I presented a laid back vibe--certainly not one of CHAOS.

Out of the blue she starts speaking in the 'light language' of the angels and (in translation) talking of peace and our stories and of love and connection. Soon the ninety minutes are over and I'm one of the last to leave. She grabs my arms before I can hug her goodbye, looks me in the eye, and says, "you need to get quiet and ask yourself what it is you really want---not what you tell people you want, or what you've told yourself you want, or what you think others want to hear, but what you really want, until then there will be chaos."

Well, fuck. That's not what I wanted to hear!

And then she slipped me her business card as if to silently say, "you really need a lot of work, lady." (she gave no one else a business card...I know, I'd been observing as I prepared to leave.)

Maybe I don't know myself as well as I thought. Perhaps I do give off an energy I'm not aware of even when I'm feeling peaceful and open-minded. Maybe this is why people react the way they do to me sometimes that leaves me confused.

Maybe she told me exactly what I needed to hear--the truth between the lines of the story I have created for myself.

Do you know what YOU really want your life to look like? Not the story you tell others, but the secret daydreams of your soul. Are you brave enough to look inside, to get quiet, and to embrace your truth?

I think I am--I thought I was--I guess I need to get clear on what dwells in the silence. Perhaps there is more exploration to do.

And, no, I'm not going to her for a personal reading. I tucked her card away and will think on what she says, but the whole 'light language' chatter threw me off a bit. I cannot deny, however, that she shook me up! And, sometimes, we all need to be shaken a bit out of our comfort zone.

Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published author of romantic thrillers, contemporary romance, women's fiction, and nonfiction. She also writes five different blogs, works as a professional editor and author coach, creates a line of inspirational journals, volunteers for children's literacy, and advocates for suicide awareness. In addition, she is the mother of two extraordinary human beings who lives in a small cabin high in the Rocky Mountains where she is completely aware of how lucky she is. To find out more about her books, please visit

Friday, January 6, 2017

Knowing When It's Time to Move On #selfcare #inspiration

I've been widowed eleven years. I've grown accustomed to my own company and the freedom of not being accountable to anyone. I really like being solo, actually. For New Year's Eve, I was in heaven sitting in front of the fireplace, reading a good book, drinking wine, and listening to music alone. I'm not "just saying that" either--I genuinely mean it.

To some, however, they look upon me with pity. When I told one friend I was alone on New Year's Eve, she practically called the suicide intervention hotline thinking I was crying into my pillow. I wasn't. I was very content.

When I met a bunch of friends--all married and pretty well off--earlier this week and told them I am selling my house, moving to Santa Fe to start a new life, buying a house there that is much smaller but within walking distance to all the fun shopping and bars in the city, you would have thought I had just confessed to murder. The looks on their faces confused me.

How can you leave Colorado? You have the perfect house! In the perfect place! How can you give all of that up? Have you gone insane? 

Maybe I have. Maybe I went insane the moment I cut my husband down from where he'd hung himself in the bedroom I've continued to sleep in for the past eleven years. Maybe I went over the edge by seeing the same people who knew me as a married woman who continue to give me that look of pity whenever I make eye contact. Maybe I go a little bit mad every time I go anywhere in this city and state where I dated and married a man who died--I see him everywhere. Maybe I went crazy holding myself back from moving long ago out of a sense of obligation to the kids to keep their lives stable--they're adults now, though. Maybe I snapped after lugging wood indoors to heat the place for the millionth time--why did I ever think that was a charming activity? So, yes, maybe I have gone insane. So what? Can you blame me? Maybe a little insanity is a good thing.

A person can only deny their souls for so long before life intervenes and pushes them into action. That's what's happened here. I am no longer satisfied existing in this perfect little house with its magnificent view. I crave more. 

More adventure.

More laughter.

More discovery.

More life!

Before I got married, some called me a gypsy. I traveled the world, lived in a new apartment every six months, moved to new cities that called to my soul, and never once thought this would be the last stop on my journey.

Yet the judgment comes from all sides when I say I'm selling my house--alone--and moving to another city in another state--alone. None of the people doing the questioning can relate even remotely to my life--they're married, financially secure to the point where some of them only work as a hobby, and have close family members as well who interact with their lives. That's fine. No one needs to get me--but I do ask that they back off from the interrogation.

I can honestly say I resent the questions as to why. Perhaps it's because I have been solo for so long now that I don't like answering to anyone, but I think my annoyance is based on something deeper--my sense that they are doubting my rational thinking despite all the years I've called my own shots, parented solo, and built a career from nothing.

It's easy to say that I don't care what others think and that I don't need anyone's approval--which are both true statements--but at the core of my being I crave support from the people in my life. I crave someone saying, "good for you, enjoy the adventure!" I crave someone saying, "if anyone can do it, you can" or "you've been through enough, sacrificed enough, now go live your life on your own terms."

I tell myself these things. I root myself on because that's what I've learned to do. But, perhaps, I truly crave hearing those things from someone else whether I want to admit it or not.

Because no matter how good I get at being alone, I remember what it was like having a life partner, a permanent cheerleader, and a sounding board--and that ghost of a memory reminds me of what I miss. It reminds me of the kind of relationship I deserve--the kind that pushes me forward rather than holds me back.

Change is good. If we become stagnant, we become boring. I may be a lot of things, but I've never been boring.

Will it be sad leaving this place? On some levels, yes, but I'm very excited to go someplace new and start exploring and discovering and laughing and living! It really is okay to let go of the good and leap into the unknown. Who knows? It might be better than my wildest imagination can visualize--and my imagination is pretty spectacular.

Amber Lea Easton is a multi-published author of romantic thrillers, contemporary romance, women's fiction, and nonfiction. She also writes five different blogs, works as a professional editor and author coach, creates a line of inspirational journals, volunteers for children's literacy, and advocates for suicide awareness. In addition, she is the mother of two extraordinary human beings who lives in a cabin high in the Rocky Mountains where she is completely aware of how lucky she is. To find out more about her books, please visit