Recently, I took a plunge into one of the most materialistic and superficial cultures alive on our planet—Los Angeles. Historically, I was never drawn here. In fact, my earlier brushes with the area left me certain that it was about as far from home as home could get. Yet, in the infinite irony that has become the humorous backdrop of my life, I found myself heading that way shortly after my 40th birthday.

I came to one of the most materialistic places on earth to deepen my spiritual practice. And, in the way spirit often works, what I encountered held an essential key. I learned that my relationship to the material—most specifically, my body—was required to harness and build a home for my spiritual wisdom.

There are days in LA where it feels like the end of days—more traffic than seems possible, an unbroken sea of billboards selling everything imaginable through sex or fear, ash from nearby fires drifting from the sky, homeless people lining the sidewalks, all mixed with a level of privilege most of the world will never know. There are those who walk its streets as if behind protective glass, adorned in the jewelry of their gods—whether Rolex or Krishna.

Like many things we find ourselves doing that we thought we never would, my time in LA was both a call to my future and a reckoning with my past.

It is an ideal place to witness what serves and what obstructs spiritual development. And I’ll cut to the chase: the foundation of what is missing is ethical understanding and spiritual discipline. People have lost direct contact with spirit.

There is an abundance of spirituality for sale in SoCal. People hawk their services with varying degrees of sincerity. They change their names to something that sounds more enlightened and don the costume of tantrika, shaman, or guide—as if the exterior is enough.

Some are simply making a few bucks or pretending to be something special, and they pour out of every crack and crevice within a hundred miles of LA.

I don’t entirely argue with spiritual costuming. For some, it is a place to start. How can we grow into spiritual beings without first clawing through the layers of what keeps us from our birthright? Most of us begin misguided. But everything has something to teach us, and most things fall somewhere on a spectrum from helpful to harmful.

So how harmful is this spiritual charade?

It would be easy to write about this from a place of being above it all, but my most powerful teachings have come through what I have walked through and the scars I wear as a result. I am well-versed in the feminist politics of the body. I viscerally know the impact of Christian asceticism. I am smart enough to see ageism. I am aware of the deep dissociation that has become a normalized human experience.

And yet, my blind spots were larger than anticipated.

As Hollywood marries spiritual practice, showmanship becomes more important than character. Thrilling spiritual events become more desirable than prayer, and selling spiritual crumbs to lost souls becomes effortless. The desperation is palpable.

My time here has highlighted the spiritual impoverishment so pervasive that if someone dresses the part and carries an artifact—a feather, a rattle—most people have no idea if they are a shaman or a charlatan.

It pushed me to ask: How do we find our way back to sanity and help people reconnect to their own spiritual authority?

The answer lies in what is missing and what has been corrupted.

The Pysical

We cannot have a deep respect for the spiritual without a deep respect for the physical. There have always been systems that honor the body as essential to spiritual development and those that believe evolution comes only through separation from it.

Being body-centric in everyday life has its strengths and its limitations. We can love our bodies into health and beauty, or we can manage, control, and even abuse them into something we think they should be, believing that will bring us love, acceptance, or status.

LA highlights this split—ranging from deep health consciousness to extreme plastic surgery.

Without a good relationship with the body—the physical—we cannot have a good relationship with our spirituality.

What I came into contact in with LA left me more disconnected with my physical body and the healthy connection with the physical world than just about any other experience of my life. This opened the door to the gross distortions that are regularly normalized.

As Alan Watts said, we are not a materialistic culture. If we were we would have a lot more respect for the world around us. What is the result of a “spiritual” practice that leaves us neglectful of our bodies and our world?

Ethical Understanding

My most recent sojourn into New Age spirituality has made one thing abundantly clear: most of us walking around barking up spiritual trees and calling in ascended masters have the character development and spiritual discipline of toddlers.

And yes, in case you were wondering, maturity and wisdom matter.

Think of it this way: you decide to make a pilgrimage to a holy master. You know that if you show up without the right question, she will turn you away. You may never get another chance. You would prepare, wouldn’t you? You would approach with clarity and respect. You would pray for guidance and support.

You would not drive up, honk your horn, complain about the journey, and ask the master what she had for breakfast.

Yet, this is more or less what we are doing.

Spiritual wisdom has become a commodity, purchased with two tickets to Burning Man and a matcha latte. And it’s definitely being sold that way.

What is missed is that you cannot receive true wisdom when you approach it this way. You may be able to tell your friends you were at the master’s house, and they may think you are cool—but you did not gain spiritual insight.

Deciding whether you want to be cool or walk a spiritual path determines whether you reach the master and receive true wisdom, or if she sends someone of your same development level to indulge your illusions.

I am grateful to my family—particularly my father’s parents—for imprinting on me the importance of sound moral judgment. I have my list of challenges, but I was raised by people who had principles and did their best to live by them. Even with their mistakes, they taught me that character matters.

Before opening intergalactic communications or calling in the wisdom of the ancients, we need to learn character “codes” that help us develop and hold our spiritual authority.

The problem? This work isn’t sexy. It won’t sell to the masses. I have watched people claim they want deep teachings when, in reality, they are fooling themselves. They want ego validation—not wisdom.

While I have certainly had my oversights and made my errors, I have learned the most about the importance of ethics from both my teachers and my students. Without substantial effort in this direction, true spiritual development is impossible—regardless of costuming.

Foundational Practice

Is it possible to walk a spiritual path without misstep? Not for most of us. There is much to learn. But that is not the point. The point is that we do all we can to be as ethical as possible and develop the ability to see our own level clearly.

When we are out of touch with our physical selves and have lost sight of what goodness really means, we fall into every spiritual trap—and there are many.

One of the most dangerous delusions is believing we are beyond foundational practices. We assume we have attained such a high level of understanding that we need not humble ourselves to do what every true spiritual master has done: work tirelessly at the foundations.

We overlook teachers and organizations that require real work and seek out those that will stroke our egos. We believe ourselves discerning, thinking that spiritual development should adhere to our preferences.
But spiritual truths do not bow to our preferences.

But spiritual truths do not bow to our preferences.

I came to SoCal for spiritual growth. What I found was a landscape of distortion that, through deep reflection, became a mirror—revealing with stark clarity what is illusion and what is real.

The impact this region has on global spiritual development is immense. SoCal is not merely a participant but a driver of consciousness, influencing not just the United States but much of the world. The distortions found here are not contained; they are packaged, polished, and shipped worldwide, shaping spiritual discourse in ways that are both profound and problematic.

I am grateful for my time there because it allowed me to witness firsthand what obstructs our collective spiritual evolution. It challenged me, deepened my understanding, and humbled me in moments when I lost myself to the current.

Ultimately, I left not only knowing that the true path of spirituality is found within the heart willing to do the work—but with a far clearer understanding of what that truly means. As a result, I am stronger, more resilient, and more equipped to be a better guide for others on this path.

We often see life’s betrayals, traumas, and painful experiences as barriers to happiness, but what if they are not obstacles at all? What if they are actually sacred markers pointing us back home to who we truly are?
Beneath every wound is a story about the essence that was touched—the part of you that knows love, trust, connection, and spirit. Your wounds exist because your deepest self exists. Without that true self, there would be nothing to wound.

Your Map Home

Your life experiences create a map—a series of invitations to reconnect with your unaltered essence. By looking with clarity and compassion at the places where you were hurt, you can find the coordinates back to your soul.

The truth is simple: You are not your wounds. You are what has survived them.

For me, owning and living my sexuality has been a form of healing work. It takes incredible courage for women to bring our sexuality with us everywhere we go –to work, shopping, alone behind closed doors (or not so alone…).

And it is not as though we have a choice, we are being constantly evaluated -the way we dress, move, laughs, who we smile at, or if we make eye contact. If the purpose of this analysis was appreciation, well, that would be an entirely different world than the one we live in.

Here, among other problems, women are judged and threatened when they are “too sexual.”

They are seen as “easy” by men and caught up in “the game” by more “forward thinking” women. They are stolen from and they are envied.

The state makes laws about their body, and religions make statements about their worthiness. They are controlled and they are condemned.

They are used and exploited.

Rarely are they, and their sacred and beautiful sexuality, celebrated.

When women leave their sexuality behind, or when they try to fit it to the acceptable standards, they lose a substantial part of their power. This loss of power makes them easier targets.

No longer having themselves, they search for what they are missing. They begin to feel insecure and needy. They look for validation. Validation in a partner, from their religion, or just from strangers.

When women try to own their sexual expression they are bombarded with unhealthy feedback. They get distorted and unhealthy approval. They are assumed to be available for inappropriate behavior. They are thought to be less intelligent, less spiritual, less competent.

They are seen as a threat.

Mothers, sisters, friends can rarely assist them because they are living in the same straight-jacket of oppression.

I believe it is up to each of us to reclaim what we can of this essential part of ourselves and find our own unique way of bringing it into being.
I wish this task were easy. I pray that someday it is easy.

This is not about augmenting hyper-sexualized, fake or prostituted versions of sexuality. It is learning to honor and intrinsic part of our nature, in all of its healthy forms of expression, when most people have lost the understanding of what that even really means.

So, when I put on a sexy dress and a hot pair of heels, I am may or may not be looking for attention and that makes my actions no more or less impure. But, I am without a doubt, reclaiming my right and the right of women everywhere to own their own sexuality –to have their full self.

When I allow my body to be alive, open, and feel pleasure, I am not looking for someone to fill an empty space or let me know I am beautiful. I am reclaiming the right to my full expression.

Likewise, when I choose, to keep it to myself, have no interest in sexual games, or am just focused elsewhere, this could be a statement that my sexual expression is a gift that I can give or not -as I choose. It is a clarification, of what seems to be forgotten, that I am not a prop but a woman -and I owe you nothing. 

And, when I live my sexuality – openly, honestly, and with respect for myself – I am claiming my right to live without shame, to love in the way that is best for me, and to respect the gifts that I have been given.

When you see this expression in me, or in another woman, I ask that you pause your judgments, that you silence your desire to try and own my pleasure, and that you learn to celebrate us.

And, when we struggle with the burden of having something so sacred be mistreated, perverted, and oppressed, to the point that there is virtual no unsullied choice to make, I ask that you find compassion and see what you might do to help.

Because we are part of what is missing in this world. We are the much needed healing. We are carriers of the joy and the pleasure your heart so desires.

The feminine, in its essence, is vast, changeable, and deeply interconnected with mystery. Unlike linear systems of understanding, the feminine moves in cycles, contradictions, and paradoxes. Yet, modern culture has often attempted to define it in rigid, simplistic ways, creating a disconnect for many women seeking to embrace their full nature.

The Challenge of Definition

A key challenge in understanding feminine energy is its resistance to easy categorization. Society often attempts to label women as either nurturing or ambitious, soft or strong, motherly or independent—when in reality, the feminine is all of these things and more. This tendency to limit and define leads many women to feel misunderstood or inadequate.

The Role of Archetypes

One way to reclaim a fuller understanding of feminine energy is through the study of archetypes. Throughout history, cultures have provided rich, diverse images of the feminine—goddesses, healers, warriors, mystics. Exploring these archetypes offers a more expansive framework for understanding the feminine, allowing for greater personal expression.

By engaging with different feminine archetypes, we give ourselves permission to embody aspects of the feminine that may have been repressed or overlooked. This exploration brings both healing and empowerment, enabling us to show up in the world in ways that feel true to our essence.

Moving Beyond Limitation

Rather than feeling constrained by cultural expectations, we can expand our understanding of what it means to be feminine. Embracing the wholeness of this energy allows us to live more authentically, create more fulfilling relationships, and contribute meaningfully to the world.

Feminine complexity is not a flaw—it is a gift. Learning to honor it, rather than simplify or suppress it, leads to deeper wisdom, creativity, and self-trust.

I was over forty years old before I realized I was beautiful—right about the time many people might believe that a woman’s beauty begins to fade.

I remember sitting in grade school, awkward and shy, with a unique sense of imposed style that often got me ridiculed, imagining that someday—when I was much older—I would be beautiful. It wasn’t a thought I dwelled on or fully understood at the time, but it lingered quietly, a small ember of knowing: someday, I would be beautiful.

Like many women, beauty was a concept shaped for me long before I could define it for myself. Growing up between two sisters—one a beauty queen and the other a model—comments about their beauty filled my childhood. When I was older, I was told that no one had called me beautiful as a child because they feared it would make me vain. But withholding that affirmation didn’t protect me; instead, it left me clinging to the idea of beauty as something elusive, something I did not have.

I was taught, like so many women, that beauty was both a target and a talisman—something that made you desired yet dangerous. Beauty was a rare and special gift, but being attractive came with risks. If I was mistreated, it was because I was attractive; if I was treated well, it was because I was beautiful. The world decided what I was based on arbitrary measures: my features, my clothing, my inherent energy—or their own desire. To make things even more complicated, I was also taught that attractiveness measured beauty, creating a vicious circle of proof and doubt.

As a young girl, I watched the women around me obsess over beauty, unable to see themselves clearly. What was made clear was that beauty was a measure of my worth as a woman. For a time, I rejected this script outright. I butchered my hair, shopped at thrift stores, and avoided mirrors for years. I didn’t want beauty to matter. I wanted to escape the exhausting pressure of whether I was—or wasn’t—beautiful. I wanted to leave behind the unwinnable battle

Beauty is not something we need to chase or earn. It is intrinsic, already ours. It is how the divine speaks through us. And the tragic but common inability to appreciate it for what it is cannot be fixed by avoiding its expression or dampening its flame.

And yet, women remain caught in a paradox. We are expected to care enough about beauty to always look good but not so much that it becomes obvious we are trying. We are asked to be effortlessly lovely, as if beauty is an accident of existence rather than the result of care, cultivation, and self-respect—as though care, cultivation, and self-respect would somehow limit our beauty rather than reveal it.

When we believe that beauty is owned by external standards, we lose sight of its origin as one of the most precious things in the universe. We forget that our beauty, in all its forms, is a gift we give to the world.

We live in a world that commodifies beauty, defines it narrowly, and sells it back to us. But true beauty cannot be packaged. It is wild, uncontainable, and uniquely ours. It grows in the cracks of imperfection, in the places where we allow ourselves to live authentically. It is nourished through our care and embellished with our love. We may decorate it with high heels or Birkenstocks, but the truth remains: our beauty deserves to be honored—not declared as a reaction to a world of abuse and misunderstanding, but expressed from the full knowledge of its magnificence.

So, sometime after forty, I began to see the beauty I had known was possible as a child. The beauty she somehow knew was not about how I looked or how the world responded to me, but rather the result of a courageous heart willing to bring the sacred feminine into being—right here and now, whenever and as much as possible.

It is not flawless, but it is real. 

And true beauty doesn’t demand that we be anything other than who we are. It only asks us to honor the luminous, intricate, sacred beings we’ve always been. 

My prayer for each and every woman is that we know our own beauty so deeply that it sings our heart through our skin and lifts the corners of our eyes with love.

What is your relationship with the divine feminine, and how has your embodiment of it evolved over time?

This question is both intimate and expansive—its roots reaching deeply into my personal history and still shaping the work I do today. To answer, I cannot help but trace my steps back to a younger version of myself who, unknowingly, was already committed to bringing the feminine into full expression—through this body and through this life.

I was just a child, no older than four, and even then, I had thoughts that felt too large for such a small person. One of these thoughts stood out—a bold declaration: I will be in my power, but I will be in my power like a woman. At the time, I did not know what that meant. I carried it with me like a small seed, tucked away, waiting to grow.

But life is rarely linear, and my relationship with the feminine grew complicated. I was raised in a world that taught me—through words, actions, and omissions—that femininity was something to diminish. I learned that it was both frightening to others and, at times, dangerous for me to express. Regardless of how severe, the message was clear: being female was not a strength. As a result, I entered adulthood with a deep, unconscious belief that my power had to mirror the masculine to be valid.

I did it all. I prided myself on my independence, my competence, my ability to carry every burden alone. I minimized my femininity, often without realizing it. I muted my actual voice, ignored my beauty, and approached life with a masculine intensity that left little room for softness. At the time, I believed I was embodying strength.

Understanding this transformed the way I saw myself and other women.

Where I once judged or envied, I began to see beauty. I noticed the societal conditioning that pits women against one another, and I committed myself to unlearning it. I realized the importance of creating spaces where women can support and celebrate each other—where we can heal the wounds of competition, jealousy, and judgment. It is constant and regular work, as these patterns run deep, but conscious attention to healing supports new opportunities for all of us.

My relationship with the divine feminine and how I bring it into expression in this world continues to evolve. I have reclaimed parts of myself I once denied and staked a claim for the marvelous complexity of the feminine to have a place—at least in my own world. I honor my fierceness and hold my vulnerability with deep respect, but I also learn each day how to do this better and to embrace the ever-new and beautiful aspects of my being.

I use many tools—jewelry, clothing, flowers, the cultivation of my environment—to nurture these aspects of myself. They remind me of the beauty in all forms of femininity and the importance of weaving them into my life. This is not just personal—or superficial; it is a practice of bringing more of the divine feminine into the world. I consider it an art, one that deserves more attention and reverence.

But healing the feminine goes far deeper. It is not as simple as placing flowers on a table or ensuring your hair is done (though I wish it were). There is profound soul work required. While I once believed that change would come if men shifted or societal structures evolved, I now understand that women themselves must lead this transformation. It requires us to dive deeply into our own stories, confront the conditioning that has shaped us and that we ourselves have perpetrated, and make courageous choices to live in alignment with the divine feminine energies we are uniquely able to express.

This is an invitation—a call to step forward. Women, we must reclaim the fragmented pieces of our feminine selves and come together to restore balance in the world. It begins within: in how we honor our beauty, our power, our softness, and our strength. But it does not stop there. We must actively support one another, breaking the cycles of competition and comparison to create a collective force of empowered feminine energy.

The journey is not linear, nor is it complete—but it is ours to walk. Together, we can weave the wisdom of the Divine Feminine into the very fabric of our lives.