This full moon is where work meets family. If you identify with the Queen of Pentacles, you’ll understand this moon’s energy. How can you get everything done? By harnessing that Capricorn energy.

I was staring down into a thirty-foot ravine, a large group of people waiting to cross a bridge that was not much more than wire and planks and… my feet refused to move.

Will Smith has a short video, it’s on YouTube, called What Skydiving Taught Me About Fear. It’s a motivational talk about the time he jumped out of an airplane in Dubai. In it he says,

“The point of maximum danger is the point of minimum fear.”

He also asks, “Why were you scared? What do you need that fear for?”

“God’s placed the best things in life on the other side of fear,” he concludes.

I’m not so sure I agree.

That time? In Hawaii when my feet could not be convinced to budge? That was not my first time crossing that bridge.

I had already made it across once, terrified beyond belief. We were on a rainforest hike with a group of my husband’s coworkers. We had to cross the bridge once going into the rainforest and then again coming out.

The only thing that would have been scarier for me was to have made the others in the group, people who had paid good money to go on this hike, wait for me while one of the guides led me down the ravine and up the other side.

I had somehow managed to do it the first time, never dreaming that I’d face that same rickety, swinging, primitive, terrifying, unsafe thing again. When I was staring down at it for the second time, I did not feel bliss. I had not been released from my fear by doing the thing that scared me the most.

It had not been conquered. I can feel the vertigo and nausea as I write this.

But I did it. I somehow got my feet to move even though they felt like they were in cement shoes and bolted to the ground.

Would I do it again? Hell, no.

The top fears are public speaking, heights (that’s me!), bugs and snakes, blood and needles, flying, and strangers. And, for some reason, zombies. But there must be a spectrum between ick and terror because some fears are resolved by pushing through and others become worse.

I’ve never been afraid of public speaking. I may get a little nervous sometimes, I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t, but never afraid. There was a guy in one of the French classes I took in college who was petrified by it. And it wasn’t all that public—we all knew each other, he was well liked, we each had to get up and present. Why was he shaking and almost unable to speak? I didn’t understand until I met that bridge in the rain forest.

Tomorrow, I start teaching my class, Inner Wisdom: Finding Your Guide Within. It’s my first online class. My first time recording myself. My first time on Facebook Live. Am I nervous? You bet. Scared? Yes, I can admit I am. Will I let those feelings keep me from doing it? Absolutely not.

Because even when we’re afraid we shouldn’t let anything hold us back. As FDR said, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

I have a confession to make. I watch Hoarders.

I feel I have to now defend myself. I don’t watch every day, only when I’m feeling overwhelmed. It’s somehow comforting to know I’m not as buried, figuratively or literally, as the people on the show. I had never expected to find wisdom in an episode. But there it was, the psychologist saying,

“It can be difficult to accept the loss of things that could be, but will never be.”

There it was, loss summed up in one little sentence.

I remember the smell of pipe tobacco, Herb Alpert’s Whipped Cream playing on the hi-fi, freshly-baked cookies delivered to us… I loved Denise Meisel’s house when I was a girl.

It was 1968 in Detroit. The riots had shaken us up literally the summer before, helicopters flying low over our neighborhood. The teachers’ strike was over. Things were back to normal.

Except they weren’t. My friends started moving away. Nori, Julie, Tracy, Jimmy, Lisa, Denise. Each loss hurt a little. But I was young and resilient. Until we were the ones who moved. To Wisconsin. From Motown to Moo-Town.

I would always be someone who spent the first ten years of her life in Detroit, but it would never be my Who I Was. All these years later, it still stings a little bit. I identify with the city, not some Podunk town. Under the microscope it seems irrational.

Can we make sense out of our feelings of loss?

Where is your clutter, be it physical or emotional? Do you hang onto two different sizes of clothes, hoping you’ll someday fit back into the thinner one? Does throwing out that size 8 pair of pants mean having to accept you may never be that thin again? Of course not. Stores are full of clothes, size 8 and even smaller.

Is your basement full of stuff from your parents’ house because you can’t bear to get rid of it? The memories live in your head, not in the things. But donating them can feel like we’re letting them go, not just their possessions, before we’re fully ready.

How about the clutter we carry around in our heads? “I should have bought that house overlooking the lake when I could have gotten it for less than $300,000,” we think, having no intention of moving, only of regretting.

“Why didn’t I have a serious conversation with him about marriage when I had the chance? My life would be so much different.” Sure, but would it be better?

“How did I let myself gain this much weight?”

“Why didn’t I keep up with those friends?”

Loss can shatter us. It can crack us right open.

But if we release things when it is time, we open the space, both literal and figurative, for new beginnings. Clearing out our clutter, our stuff and our outdated thought patterns, tells the Universe that we’re ready for something fresh, something even better.

What one thing can you throw away, give away, let go of this week in order to make room for the new?

A tarot card spread

“I’m not busy—I can do it,” I imagine I said to God as I was wherever it is we hang out before our soul gets sent down to earth.

In this imagining, God had been searching for someone to go and take care of other people’s children. Being the helpful sort, I opened my mouth before I thought it through. I don’t even particularly like children for more than about fifteen minutes. But it’s the only explanation I can find for how I ended up caring for so many that weren’t mine.

About nineteen years ago, as my aunt’s husband lay dying of cancer, he told her that his soul’s mission hadn’t been completed. In fact, he hadn’t started it. Instead of singing and entertaining people on cruise ships, he should have been doing healing work. In short, he felt he had wasted his life.

That shook me to my core.

I’m not saying that there are unimportant jobs. People need to make money and so they need someone (preferably for free, like I so often was) to watch their kids while they go off to, say, make refrigerators. Everyone needs a refrigerator, which makes all the various positions involved in manufacturing, delivering, and repairing them vital if we’re to keep our food from spoiling. What’s more, a sympathetic ear on the assembly line can many times be more valuable than a therapist.

But was taking care of the children of others my calling?

Was working at my father’s various companies or at Harley-Davidson my purpose?

How about working at Unity Temple, as spiritual as it is?

I was employed there right around the time that my aunt told me that her husband, Scott, said he hadn’t fulfilled his mission. A month later, I quit my job.

And my aunt asked me to perform Scott’s funeral—my first.

There, I met someone who helped me receive my ordination.

Two months later, an acquaintance offered to walk me through being a wedding officiant.

And two months after that, someone I had never met contacted me and offered me all the weddings he had booked for that summer. He had made a sudden decision to move to Virginia.

When we’re on the right path, Spirit supports us and opportunities almost fall from the sky and straight into our arms. All we have to say is, “Thank you. More please!”

Nineteen years and almost six hundred weddings, memorial services, and baby dedications later, I’ve decided to move on to the next chapter. Who says we only have one soul mission?

Do you feel you’re living your purpose?

Sometimes, to move forward we need to reflect on our past. What have been some of your favorite moments? What experiences and people have brought you happiness? What would bring more joy to your existence? What would satisfy your soul?

Know that you are always a powerhouse of possibility. Optimism and ambition lead to success. Planting a seed, knowing its watering schedule, figuring out its unique needs bring it to bear fruit.

And that fruit will be satisfying on both the financial and soul levels.

As the poet Mary Oliver said,
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?”

“And Toni here is the wacky one,” my Clubhouse partner said by way of introduction in our club.

It wasn’t the first time that week I felt I came across as a wackadoodle. And do you have to be on the eccentric side to even use a word like “wackadoodle”?

This week, as I inadvertently steered myself too close to some rocky shoals in a valuable relationship, I gave myself a lecture.

“You only have yourself to blame for how others view you. If you come across as odd, or insecure, or whatever, it’s because you give that impression…”

Is it my own damn fault? Can’t I blame it on something else?

Like maybe astrology?

My Gemini sun and Virgo rising signs argue like an old married couple. Throw in my Taurus moon and it’s no wonder I have no idea who I am sometimes.

But what does all that mean—sun, rising, and moon signs?

Even people who say they don’t believe in astrology know their sun sign and identify strongly with it. Am I a Gemini? And how! Playful, curious, into a little bit of everything, and so busy a 26-hour day is necessary? That’s me.

I’m sure you also know your sun sign and what it means. But what’s a rising sign?

Our rising sign, or ascendent, is how we come across to people. It’s our social personality, our outward style.

This is where my need to be of service rather than recognized comes from, my organization skills, that practical side, the part of me that is hard on myself. Or so it may seem to others.

Our moon sign determines our private world, our innermost needs, and how we react in emotional situations, the “soul yearnings” that not everyone sees.

My moon in Taurus means that on the inside I am creamy nougat– soft, romantic, and loyal. I also do not adapt well to my routine being thrown off. I am capable. And I can be stubborn. And anal. Fun fact: Taureans have a well-developed sense of smell. So I’ve also got that going for me.

My Gemini sun says there is no reason to not know at least a little bit about everything. I am forever writing notes on scraps of paper, the backs of envelopes, the margin of my desk calendar. That is, until my Virgo rising steps to the fore and says, “Enough! How can you find anything? Clean this mess up.” (I won’t give Gemini’s pithy retort.) My Taurus moon comes in and explains that it may look like a disaster, but everything can be found if needed…

Astrology is mysterious and fascinating. It can show us our uniqueness and our individual path to success. When we see our entire birth chart, it decodes our Myers-Briggs type, Enneagram personality, HIGH5 strengths and DISC profile.

Knowing how we are wired from birth helps us to be more comfortable in our skin. We are exactly who we are meant to be. We are loved in our wackiness or introversion or seriousness, whether we think a lot, or feel things deeply, or fly by the seat of our pants. We are each crafted by the stars, unique and perfect.

If you would like to learn more about astrology and your chart, I highly recommend Chani Nicholas’s website. If you find her prose too dense, Yasmin Boland is more down-to-earth. And for a free chart that does not require you to enter your email address, visit https://astro.cafeastrology.com/natal.php

It gets better.

Believe in yourself.

Floss your teeth.

Don’t marry young.

Buy Apple stock.

What would you say to your younger self in three words?

You’ve probably seen this question on Facebook. Some of the responses are heartfelt, others humorous. But my question is—

Would you have listened?

We were surrounded by adults telling us what to do. Get good grades. Go to college. Don’t do drugs. Get a job. Tell the truth. Don’t talk back.

What makes us think our younger self would pay any attention to our older self? Do we even take our own advice now?

Facing our flaws isn’t fun. Many of us start the new year by making resolutions and then realize that for as much as we’d like to be thin and toned, we’d prefer to not eat healthfully and exercise. Quitting smoking means changing your entire life to avoid the triggers to light up. Finding more time in the day means not watching TV in the evening.

Change stinks.

It’s hard. And when we change, the people around us balk. If we quit drinking, they may see us as no longer fun. If we lose weight, someone else may find us attractive. Our studying or going for a walk in the evening highlights their ass on the couch. Friends and family who initially cheered us on may start tempting us to resume our old ways.

How do I let others manipulate me into doing things that don’t really serve me? is a question that leads us to shadow work.

Shadow is a psychology term for the things we can’t see in ourselves. It’s the dark side of our personality.

We all prefer to show our best traits. It’s uncomfortable to admit, even to ourselves, we have flaws. But we can readily find the foibles in others.

Exploring our shadow leads to greater authenticity, creativity, and true maturity. Here are three exercises to help get you started. Get your journal or a sheet of paper and

1. Make a list of five people you know well and three to five things about each person that bug the crap out of you. How are they annoying? Take a little break and then go back to the list and circle any of their irritating habits that you share maybe just a little bit.
2. Center yourself and then ask the following questions.
   • When do I play the victim?
   • When do I play the martyr, sacrificing myself for another’s benefit?
   • What has led me to feeling I have to say yes and to feel I have to please others?
   • Am I able to give and receive love fully and freely?
   • Who do I need to say something to? Why am I holding back?
   • Do I fully trust my intuition? If not, who taught me not to? Why?
   • When have I been solely focused on my ego rather than on what Spirit/the Universe/my higher self was telling me?
3. Pull a tarot or oracle card while asking What am I not seeing in myself that causes me pain? Or what do I need to know in other to grow?

I find it helpful to write until I feel stumped and then come back to it again either a few hours later or the next day.

Have you done work like this before? If so, tell us what you learned about yourself. If not, would you be interested in learning more about shadow work? Comment below.

Except it wasn’t “fuzz” I was scrawling, my pen almost tearing the page.

I had finally found a therapist who had the right tools in her kit. She had recommended I work through Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. At the heart of Cameron’s method is what she calls “morning pages,” three hand-written pages first thing in the morning before your inner censor wakes up to tell you you can’t write that, whatever “that” may be.

Obviously early morning was the right time because I would never write an entire page of rhymes-with-flux at 2:00 in the afternoon.

And that’s one of the objectives in a daily spiritual practice. Not necessarily to see how long of a string of obscenities you can fit on a page, but to open us up, to inform, to heal, to hear the truth, to clear out space for us to be creative, authentic.

Meditation, running, journaling, playing a musical instrument or even touch-typing are fantastic ways to engage our bodies and the conscious parts of our minds, allowing Spirit, our higher self, our sub-conscious—whatever we prefer to call it—to speak to us.

And what was it my higher self was trying to tell me as I journaled so eloquently?

“You need to lose that loser of a fiancé. He looks good on paper, speaks French and Spanish, is literally a rocket scientist, but girl… getting a fuzzing grip.”

The trick to hearing that voice is to not get in your own way.

Buy a cheap-o notebook. Beautiful leather-bound books rarely invite ugly truths. Write before your inner scold has had her coffee.

Run, walk, or jump on the Peloton without music or an audiobook. Spirit has a hard time competing with Robert Palmer and Steve Winwood.

Meditate, or simply focus on your breath (what is meditation after all?) without the guide. Guided meditation has its place, don’t get me wrong, but ideas will bubble up more easily without words.

The same goes for playing an instrument. Play a piece that is purely instrumental so your mind isn’t occupied with lyrics.

Does anyone type things up anymore? Ironically, touch-typing involves words but they go in your eyes and out your fingers without involving your brain.

And what might you hear in all that quiet?

You’re playing it safe. Or…

Time to heal. Or…

Find a teacher. Or perhaps Be a teacher. Or…

Gloria Gaynor. Yeah, sometimes disco comes through. But the message might just be You will survive.

I wasn’t sure if I’d make it home in time. I had passed a woman at OfficeMax and my insides liquified. “Trust your gut” had taken on new meaning.

There have been times when I knew that I had to extricate myself from a situation immediately. Once, when I didn’t listen, I ended up in a dangerous spot. Another time I did pay attention and kicked a man out of my flat for what didn’t seem to him like a good reason. “My intuition told me to” was a good enough reason for me.

But I had never before experienced something like the woman in OfficeMax. Her energy was strong and literally turned my stomach.

It’s natural for us to pick up the energy of people we’re close to. I was working with a client this morning and I clutched my forehead and asked about her daughter. “She does that all the time!” my client told me. “She gets stress headaches there.”

A little later in the session I put my hand on the top of my head. It seems her boyfriend gets headaches as well. And since she cares for these people, their pain is in her energy.

We may or may not feel the pain of others. It’s easy to confuse empathy and sympathy, thinking we can take someone’s emotions, and if we’re experiencing them, they won’t have to feel the pain.

It’s a loving gesture. But it doesn’t work like that, of course. We end up hurting as well as, not instead of, them.

Energy clearing is an excellent way to rid ourselves of the energy we pick up from others, whether a family member, friend, lover or even a stranger.

But does all the energy we pick up need to be cleared? Is it all bad?

The answer is a simple, short no.

We carry love, happiness, pride, amusement, gratitude and other positive emotions in our energy fields. These connections are constructive and strengthen our bonds to others as well as give us hope, inspiration, and encouragement.

When I encounter these joyful feelings while doing an energy clearing, I leave them where they are. I may ask about them and emphasize their importance, but I would never remove them. I can only imagine the resulting feelings of isolation and loneliness.

These positive emotions are also conduits for loved ones who have passed to come through in a reading. I have never encountered anything other than love from a dead person. They come to say, “I’m with you,” “I love you,” I’m sorry,” or to tell what signs they bring to show they’re there.

Just this morning a grandmother came through to say that she leaves coins for her granddaughter to find. She was a real character. I told her granddaughter that her grandmother was leaving pennies. The grandmother corrected me in a heavy German accent. “Not just pennies!”

An energy clearing is like unkinking a garden hose. It helps energy to flow freely, opening us up to all the wonderful things the Universe has in store for us.

I’d be delighted to show you how it can help you by offering a free fifteen-minute mini session. Contact me to set one up.