We Speak

Here's a kiss (4)

Don’t get me wrong, I do yell and scream. Stomp my feet and grit my teeth.
But when it comes to making lasting change and being heard on a deep level, compassion is my path.
I’d like to share with you my honest opinion of #metoo.
As a coach who works with sexual abuse and trauma survivors, expression is important.
Feeling the connection of not being alone is profoundly healing.

To move from emotion to expression to healing to action is my formula of power.
Reading posts, many people don’t understand abuse or the darkness or the symptoms and it rips me up inside. But I am reminded to stay patient and open.

As I was telling a journalist yesterday, data is gold.

The numbers on sexual violence and abuse are inaccurate because we don’t talk about it.
Our judicial system is broken when it comes to sex crime investigations- if you have experienced reporting a sex crime, my heart goes out to you. It is traumatizing.
Many state workers are improperly trained or overworked to handle such delicate matters.

Our school systems are lacking a comprehensive sexual education system. Knowledge is power. The more we know about ourselves and our bodies, the less in the dark we will be and the less tragedies will be inflicted.

Our society as a whole is hungry for this knowledge, but have very little access to healthy sexuality. Why do you think sex sells? Because we are looking for a piece of ourselves and will pay anything for it.
#metoo is opening up a conversation I’ve been begging to have for years.

I ask that people keep in mind that just because reported sexual abuse and crimes are shown to be from men, many of my clients (and myself) have suffered abuse, trauma and harassment from women.

I ask that you start a conversation, without a point, without a goal, but to just open it up.
We don’t have to yell, but we do have to speak.

Dented Knight


I thought it was you. A wounded knight guarding my door.

I remember putting berries and leaves into my finest china, not caring that I hadn’t brushed my hair or that my princess dress was wrinkled.

I was high in my tree house, guarded by my brother Johnny. He fought off Godzilla with sticks and barked at my oldest brother to stay away from the castle.

I was a good princess; Dancing, singing, and making “soup” for my hero.

When I was done playing the role and tried to climb down, Johnny yelled at me to stay in the house to stay safe.

An early memory of obeying instead of listening to my desires. To stay safe. A comfort that I’ve been taught to cling to and constantly seek. A numbing of my true nature to fit in.

These beliefs caused a rift between my little body and vibrant soul. A disconnection fueled by the message that there’s something wrong with me.

I remember getting so sick and having terrible pains in my belly. When I saw myself in a mirror, I was shocked at how pale and sad this girl looked.

When I was 5, my spleen ruptured and I had to stay in the hospital quite a bit. The tender stinging of feeling my flesh being stitched together would make me cry. I wasn’t in pain. It was another message that there’s something wrong with me. Couldn’t my parents see how miserable I was? How I hated being coddled and helpless?

Religion constantly pressed into my tender wounds. I loved God. I felt so much joy digging in the dirt, watching worms dance and play. I felt God as I sang and walked through the garden. But the Kingdom Hall was a place I had to escape from. I couldn’t be in the moment or present without getting nauseous or angry.

So I would use that time to travel. I would go deep into daydreams of being an astronaut or a singer on a huge stage. I remember being 4 years old and reading Song of Solomon. I would howl and giggle. How beautiful. He worshiped the Goddess, embraced her beauty, sang about it even. Where was that in real life?

I looked everywhere. The closest I could find was Jean Grey and Scott on my Saturday morning cartoons.

Today I reflect on my life. I’m not shy about my desires: Success, Travel, Love.

They sound vague and general- doesn’t everyone want that?

Except success for me is in the millions. Millions of lives touched, in a million languages on a million platforms with millions of dollars to lift up others.

Travel- Not just to sunny places. Travel to get a solid reading on the world outside of what I’m told it’s supposed to look like. Looking into the face of people that don’t have the freedom to dream as vivid. But they will.

And love. Not a wounded knight fighting my battles for me. (I’ve seen enough Disney movies to know that a royal life is one of choice.) A king. A partner that lifts me to a higher version of myself. Able to hold my emotions, my big dreams and let me fight my own battles.

I hear his voice in my ear as I sleep “Hi Gorgeous. You’re made for this.”

Why Tantra and Sound?


Tantra helped me heal my mind, body, soul wounds through radical self love and deep connection.
Traditionally in tantra it is said to be a spiritual awakening through mantra (a word or sound repeated), tantra (rituals, disciplines and meditations) and yantra (a visual tool for meditation).
Teaching a modern version of Kundalini Tantra I have seen incredible results with clients and with students. I have seen people change physically. Their skin is brighter, their eyes more open, their posture stronger and their face more relaxed and youthful in a very short time.
Tantra is not the easiest path. It’s confronting and takes not only rewiring your brain patterns, but choosing to not fall back into old cycles and actions. My teaching falls into mental, physical, energetic and emotional levels and that is why I like to unravel these wounds slowly and have a practice in place for people to feel comfortable letting go of old traumas, memories and patterns.
It can be heavy. Even as a teacher I would feel heavy after certain sessions and releases people had. If I weren’t on top of my game, I could easily take on these people’s pains and energies and have a hard time removing them.
One Thursday, I had a tough session with a client. It was a quick and overwhelming release a client had, and I couldn’t get rid of these emotions, memories and sensations that weren’t mine. So I went to a sound bath and immediately these energies dissipated. I felt clean again.
So the next week, I had a yoni egg in and had a beautiful ritual for myself just before another sound bath. This time, I didn’t just feel clean. I felt ecstasy. Waves of Shakti, blissful energy rolled through my body and my spine began to undulate in pleasure. I couldn’t help but moan as singing bowls and instruments pulled this bliss through my chakras.
And it hit me- this healing works with Shakti energy. You can have a spiritual awakening and instant healing with tantra and sound.
So my partner, Maraliz and I, began to test this. The results were incredible. It was a gentle and tender way of awakening someone’s Kundalini and healing energy.
We began using singing bowls, bells, tuning forks and our voices to awaken this energy and move it. Nada yoga is the oldest form of yoga. The system’s theoretical and practical aspects are based on the premise that the entire cosmos and all that exists in the universe, including human beings, consists of sound vibrations, called nada.
This healing vibration releases trauma, heals old wounds and engages radical self love in a gentle and tender way. We found a combination of tantra and sound that caused immediate shifts and healings.
Maraliz and I are proud to share what we’ve discovered and continue to practice in our lives.
Tantra is about engaging all 5 of your senses so we want to share these tools in a beautiful and healing environment. If you’re free Saturday, June 10 or Sunday, June 11 we’d love to share this with you at Harrison Farms:
Use Code: FAMILY for $100 off the ticketed price.

Buddhist Brit


I wish I could write.

The lighting is perfect, it feels like Europe.

I want to explain how good your jaw smells,

how long your legs are.

Every time I grasp for words,

they vanish.

A cloud of dusty chalk,

erased from my brow.

So instead,

I’ll lie in your arms,

smiling into my pillow.

Wishing one day I’ll write a poem about

this moment.

Dating My Desires


I’m opening up, slowly, to all of my bullshit.

Owning how I have kept myself in dangerous patterns and playing the scrappy victim.

Then there are days like today, when I realize just how far I have come and just how much I have been lying to myself.

So here’s the truth: I have never been in a committed relationship with a man that I was not financially dependent upon.

My relationship model was of course my parents. My mom never worked and my dad had control of all the money. We had to “act right” for him to give us an allowance for things like clothes or the snacks we wanted or weekend money.

Leaving me with a lasting impression that I had to act a certain way to get the things I wanted or needed. My parents also taught me that expressing emotions got you into trouble. I learned to express opinions, not emotions.

As an adult, I crave connection and intimacy. I just had no idea how to get there. My baggage was really heavy. Anxiety, depression and self doubt are not the sexiest companions.

After my divorce I was so done with the ways of the past. I wanted a partnership, I wanted to make my own money and I wanted to do so in a really authentic way.

When you pray for things, God sends you the right people to polish you.

I no longer asked for a large lump sum of money to appear “just in time”. I began praying for a career path that allowed me to help people and be successful. Opportunities for work and progress to appear. Learning how to make money for myself and trust it. Trust myself with it. Also to get over the old story that if I made money I wouldn’t be able to have a man.

At this point, I was terrified of becoming dependent upon a man again.

My type is definitely the model with a six pack. Which is fine, there is nothing wrong with being healthy. I just went through men only calling when they were free. Texting for me to come over in the middle of the night. Taking me on “non dates”.

I didn’t know they were reflecting my emotional capacity.

There was Christopher. We could talk for hours about anything. I would keep my emotions tempered, but I craved his to be expressed. The best parts were the moments without words, we could just be peaceful together. Which I have never had before. Yet, it was always around his schedule. It was never enough. Something in me wasn’t being satisfied. I would erase his number, but I had it memorized. I’d text him then tear myself apart. That kind of turmoil I know he could feel, even if he couldn’t put his finger on it. I got honest with myself. What did I really want from him?

I wanted him to choose me. To love me. To date me. I also knew that this wasn’t my relationship.

There was an engineer and a politician thrown into the mix- not supermodels, but handsome. And emotionally unavailable.

I became the woman that “can do it herself”. I reveled that I wouldn’t let men pay for my drinks or my food, but I noticed the right kind of man didn’t appreciate that. It created a distance physically and emotionally that took me a while to figure out.

Then one night I went out for some fun. I quite literally ran into the chest of a wild man. It was one of those soul level connections. My brain couldn’t catch up fast enough to shut down emotionally or block him. We stayed up all night breathing together, meditating, sharing our dreams and fears.

He saw parts of me I had never shown a man, and I instantly kind of hated him for it. I didn’t know it at the time, but he was growing me. Showing me the parts of myself that I hadn’t healed.

I would go through periods of contraction and expansion, with and without him.

His unabashed expression of emotion made me really uncomfortable at first. I had never seen a man cry so freely, show rage and joy so powerfully. The wounded part of me tried to push him far, far away. But I always stayed curious. Wanting to know more. Wanting to talk to him and touch him.

I had a moment in a meditation that showed me my bliss. In this vision I was at my studio teaching a sacred sexuality workshop and my wild man was teaching with me. Hot tears ran down my face as I tried to block this vision. It couldn’t come true. It couldn’t be real. “He’s too big for me” were the exact words I used to push away this desire.

I sat in his room, chatting with him about the universe and past lives and our bodies. I opened up to him that I had been pushing away my desire for a relationship because I didn’t think the one I wanted existed. He asked me again that night, as he usually did, “Is there anyway I can help you? Give you what you want?”. I’d normally say
“No”, and brush off his offers. Instead I said “I want to teach with you. I want to help people, together.” And he didn’t say no. He wanted to have a meeting about it and talk more.

I went home completely calm and satisfied, without physical intimacy. Something in me had healed. I had spoken up.

I was no longer the “I can do it myself” girl. I was becoming the “I know I can do it myself, I’d love your help.” I had never felt more like a woman.

I began dating again.

My first date was extremely honest. I held nothing back. All of my desires, my big dreams, my fears. It was solid and easy.

The next was a hot mess. I was tired and cranky for one. I was also nervous as hell. This man was successful, handsome, and….handsome.

He was also Catholic. In my mind I equated that me teaching tantra didn’t fit within his faith. Even though HE never said that. When I get nervous, I don’t get shy. I get aggressive and defensive. I talk too much, too loud. I poke and prod. It’s not cute.

I was so uncomfortable on this date that I ended it early and hopped in a cab.

What happened next really surprised me. Normally, I’d take control and try to goad him into showing his hand. Asking direct questions so that I would know where I stood. Or I would get super sexual and try to take back control of the situation.

I didn’t do any of that. I let it lie. I also admitted that I really liked him. We’ve texted lightly since. If we see each other again, great. I am no longer afraid to look in and ask the heavy hitting questions “How am I feeling and why?”, “Am I reacting out of old wound?”, “Does this person really have the qualities that match with what I want, or do I just want the satisfaction of being wanted?”.

Self discovery is painful. Peeling back these layers behind my self sabotage and emotionless dating is rough. However, it’s better than living with a dull, aching question of “What if I could really have the things I desire?”.

Gorgeous Human


The things that have happened are gone.
You don’t have to identify with “Poor Amy” or “Typical Amy”.
You are allowed to be who you really are, not a reaction to your past.
Yes, you’ve been raped.
Yes, you’ve been abandoned.
Yes, you’ve been sabotaged, beaten, isolated and left disparaged.
You are meant to be successful.
Surrounded by people you love and trust.
You can have an exciting and fulfilling life.
Being a martyr doesn’t make you a good woman.
Live your life.
Do what excites you.
You are not your past.
You have permission to be who you are supposed to be.