Last Night I had Sex with Russell Brand

Last night I had sex with Russell Brand. Yup, that’s right. This guy.

I find Russell sexy in a creepy sort-a way.

It was the hottest sex I’ve had in quite a while—and I went into a full-body, incredibly blissful, super intense orgasm. It was the most powerful orgasm I have ever experienced.

And it all happened while soundly asleep, dreaming.  Yes, as you may have guessed already, my Russell Brand tryst happened in a dream.

I’m a big fan of dreams, and I spent almost three years working with a teacher who uses dream-work as a gateway into both exploring the inner workings of our psyche, and tapping into our full potential.

I’ve learned that dream characters often show up in our dreams to help us viscerally experience our full potential—a potential that is dying to be realized and expressed on the human plane.

So, in this dream, Russell was there to help me tap into my next level of orgasmic potential. If I can experience that level of mind-blowing, blissful orgasm in my dream, I can experience it in my waking life too. The potential has just been asleep inside me, and the dream initiated it’s waking up.

Most of my clients who work with me privately in my sex and relationship coaching practice, work with me me because they are cut off from their sexual energy, and are experiencing low-libido, pelvic-pain, or just want a more in depth connection with their sexual potential. Read about my own journey with pelvic-pain and low-libido here. 

Often, when they work with me, they spontaneously start having orgasmic dreams.  These dreams are there to show them what is possible and to wake up the orgasmic energy that already lives inside them—they have just cut themselves off from it for various reasons.

In fact, last week, I taught a free tele-class for women on the topic of waking up your libido, and this is what someone wrote me the next day:

I heard Sarah’s talk 7 months after having a total hysterectomy, which forced me into menopause, and I had given up all hope of ever experiencing sexual pleasure again, much less of ever having another orgasm. The night after I heard Sarah talk, I had a dream that was sexually arousing, and when I woke up I had a FULL BODY ORGASM!!! I was astonished, and cried tears of gratitude at this reawakening of my body. After experiencing 2 more orgasms within the next 4 hours, I decided it would be a good idea to talk to Sarah about some coaching. -PK, Chicago, Il.

I should warn you that it's possible that after reading this blog post, you will experience an orgasmic dream yourself. If it doesn’t happen spontaneously, and you are interested in knowing your orgasmic potential, there is a process I learned from my teacher that can help you tap into the dream world. I teach this process to all my private clients, but I want to share it here with everyone because I want everyone to know their orgasmic potential!

So, here you go!

Right before falling asleep:

  • On a piece of paper write something like this:

    Dear Dream World (or subconscious, or higher power, or whatever works for you),

    Please give me a dream that will show me my full orgasmic potential. (You can also ask to be shown what is blocking you from this potential in your waking life, but that can be difficult to interpret on your own.)

    Thank you,

    Your Name

  • Put the piece of paper under your pillow.
  • Set the intention to remember your dreams. If you don’t normally remember your dreams, it’s ok. If you put intention towards remembering them, you will begin to remember.
  • When you have a dream and as soon as you wake up, write down anything you remember, don’t wait! If you don’t have a dream that night, don’t fret, just ask again the next night.
  • See what you can interpret out of the details of the dream, and if you experienced orgasmic energy, bask it in! Let it really sink into your system. Think of the dream throughout the day, and see if you can’t reconnect with the orgasmic energy. The more intention you put toward it, the more it will start to wake up inside you.

And, if for some reason, you don’t have an orgasmic dream, don’t worry about it. It doesn’t mean you don’t have orgasmic potential, you might just need other ways besides dreams to get in contact with it.


If you do have an orgasmic dream, and you are comfortable sharing it with me, I’d love to hear from you! Anything you share with me would be strictly confidential, unless you gave me permission to share otherwise.

Here’s to orgasm, and Russell Brand!

Want more orgasm?  Sign up below, and get immediate access to the recordings of the three tele-classes I taught.

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My Journey with Painful Sex

For most of my adult life, I hated sex.  I hated sex because every time I had sex, it hurt, and the reason (or so I thought) it hurt was because my body had betrayed me. Let me back up.

Growing up, no one in my conservative, Catholic, and small-town midwestern family talked to me about sex or the changes that happened to my body during puberty.  This awkward silence mixed with a few overt instances of shaming, led me to believe that my body and sex were things to be embarrassed about and ashamed of.

So, when my first boyfriend asked me to have sex at age fifteen, I had no idea what to expect. I wondered if it would be like the sex I had seen on late night HBO shows I used to sneak downstairs to watch after everyone had fallen asleep.

It wasn’t.

The first time we had sex, it hurt—really bad. I hoped it would get better, but it didn’t.  For years to follow, sex continued to hurt, so I began avoiding romantic relationships and became depressed.

I didn’t have anyone in my life I could ask about why it hurt, and since this was the olden days—long before the explosion of the internet—I had no way to find out.

I spent years angry at my body.  Why was I like this? Why couldn’t I have sex like everyone else could? What was wrong with me? What man would want me? Why had my body betrayed me?

Eventually, after years of enduring painful sex, I found out that the pain was caused by a condition called Vaginismus (weird name, I know), and that I could fix it by doing kegels.

Hallelujah! There was hope.

I set about doing kegels, but, even after months, it didn’t help.  By that time I had little desire for sex, so I didn’t see any reason to keep trying.

So, I decided to officially give up on sex and relationship all together, and I did what I could to convince myself I didn’t need or want either.  I found other things to care about, and devoted my life to them—spirituality, creativity, career. Not bad things to dedicate my life to, but deep down something missing.

Then, one day I ran into an old friend who told me about a new meditation practice she had learned. As soon as she said the name of this practice—Orgasmic Meditation—my body lit up. I had no idea what it was, but I knew I needed to learn it.

I started practicing Orgasmic Mediation (OM for short), and the sexual floodgates quickly opened. I felt my desire and sexual essence open inside me and begin flowing. I felt turned-on, alive, and awake.

A week after starting OM, I met a handsome man who I was incredibly attracted to, and was confronted by how badly I wanted to have sex with him. It made me realize that all those years I had convinced myself I didn’t need sex, the truth was I had actually been starving for it.

I kept practicing OM, and started doing the inner-work to heal my relationship with my sexuality. Surprising to me, within six weeks I had healed the Vaginismus, and within two months I was enjoying pain-free pleasurable penetration with my handsome man.

The first time I climaxed while he was inside me, I looked at Mr. Handsome and said:  “This is what it means to be a woman.”

As my desire and sexual essence continued to open and deepen, my true desires for my life become clear, and my everything began to quickly shift.

I left a eight year career where I was no longer happy, began performing on stage, and entered into multiple, heart-felt, intimate relationships with men. I also became clear on what my soul’s purpose here on planet earth is—to help bring back the divine feminine—and created a business that reflects that purpose.

And, I realized that, as a woman, desire is a key to a fulfilling life, and sexual essence is a key to feminine power.

We women have been duped to believe that men want sex more than women. Women are naturally built to be deeply sexually potent beings, we have just lost access to it.

It’s now my wish for all women to have access to their desire and sexual essence.

This is the birthright all of women, and a big part of the return of the divine feminine.

I’m now a certified sex and relationship coach who helps other women heal their relationship with their sexuality and wake up their sexual essence.  My work is my devotion to the divine feminine, and I see the work I do as deeply revolutionary.

To find out more about working with me, click here. 

And, I have an upcoming free call for women who experience pelvic-pain. To register for the call or receive the recording, go here:

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2014-The Year I Met My Soul

2014 was one heck of a year for me.  But, instead of going on and on about all the myriad of little and big things that happened for me this year, I just want to share one—2014 was the year I met my soul. Even though I’m a spiritual type lady, I’ve always found the idea of a soul quite nebulous, and at times, down-right annoying. I mean, what the heck is a soul anyway?

I have especially found people who talk about things like “having a soul purpose” or “communicating with your soul” or following your “soul’s guidance” to be just as annoying. I figured they were using the world soul to sound like spiritually evolved, fancy-pants kinda people.

Then, one day in 2014, out of the blue, I woke up from a deep sleep and met my soul.

As I write this blog post, I’m trying to figure out how to best describe what meeting my soul felt like, and I would love to dazzle you with extraordinary sensations, or otherworldly images like angels playing trumpets or a floating Jesus head. But, the truth was, it was quite simple. Meeting my soul felt like meeting my best friend—the kind of best friend that would always be there for you, even when you act like a jerk-face or put your boyfriend before her.

In that moment of meeting my soul, I knew I had never been and would never be alone.

And, in that same moment, I also became one of those: “I have a soul purpose” annoying, fancy-pants kinda people. A crystal clarity came over me, and I knew my soul purpose on this planet. I knew I had come here to be someone that would help bring the true feminine back to a world that is dangerously imbalanced in the masculine.

I knew I was here to wake up the powerful feminine force within myself, and within other women—and I knew I would do that through helping women heal their relationship with their genitals, their pelvis area, and their sexuality. This knowing had me feeling totally lit up from within and like a fire was ignited inside me.

Much as been brewing inside me since the morning I met my soul. I’ve had many spontaneous and deep openings into the feminine. I feel her guiding me and opening up inside me more and more everyday, it feels like a flower blooming inside my very being.

So, I’ll be changing things here on my blog and evolving what ever needs to be evolved as I continue down this path.

I have a lot more to share about all this, but for now, I will just say:  “Viva La Vulva! The Revolution Begins Between Your Legs!”

To find out more about the work I do with women, click here. 


I met Medusa

I met Medusa the other day. Or, more accurately, I met Medusa who was posing as a timid and nervous woman.

This woman, in a soft and shaky voice, told me a story—a common story that has been repeating itself throughout human history for about the last 5,000 years.  A story that I hope we are on the verge of rewriting. A story of a girl who died inside before she could become the potent and powerful woman she was meant to be.

As a little girl, this woman loved to dance, sing, perform, and run wild. She was confident, funny, and full of life.

Then a boy became intimidated by her powerful, wild, crazy, girl-ness and took it upon himself to take her down. He told everyone that she was Medusa and that if they looked at her, they would turn to stone. Word spread around school, and soon no one would talk to her. She was both ridiculed and shunned for years, until she completely shut down.

This wild and confident girl-child would grow up to become a woman who would have panic attacks at the sound of her own name.

When she told me this story she said to me, “I don’t know what he saw in me that made him call me Medusa.”

But I knew.

The Medusa that most of us know through Greek mythology is not the true story of Medusa. Medusa’s origins lie in North Africa where she was known as the crone goddess of the dark moon. Her face was the representation of divine female wisdom, and she was linked to divination, healing, magic and the sexual serpent mysteries associated with death and renewal.

The Greeks twisted her story into one of a young woman who was:

  • Raped
  • Turned into a monster by another woman over jealousy
  • Murdered by Perseus

What do women learn from the Greek version of the Medusa story?

  • Our sex is dangerous
  • Other women are our enemy
  • Men are dangerous and have total power over us

Basically, we learn as women that we are victims.

In my last blog post, I wrote about an addiction our culture (myself included) has to victimhood. This addiction is particularly strong in women and I think this is why.  Our once powerful images and stories were turned into helpless victim stories—and we’ve been spoon fed these stories since childhood.

I said this in a previous post, but I want to say it again: We women did not create these stories but we have internalized them, and allowed ourselves to fall under their spell.

I desperately want to wake up from this spell, and I want to take all of you other forgotten Medusas with me.

I wish there was a magic wand I could wave to break this spell.  But, the only way I know how to wake up is to vigilantly dismantle this internalized story, make friends with my inner Medusa, and surround myself with other women willing to do the same and men who desire potent women.

The waking up out of a victim spell requires us to stop being a victim to the spell itself, and use our own volition to dismantle it.

The whole world is suffering from the absence of powerful and potent women.

May we all remember the forgotten Medusa, and may all little girls grow up to be the powerful and potent women they were meant to be.




The Addict

I have another confession: I'm an addict in recovery. It's not pills or booze that I'm addicted to, but something equally as seductive. I'm addicted to being a victim. I'm addicted to playing small, blaming the world for everything that's wrong in my life, complaining, acting fragile, making others responsible for my feelings, and using victimhood to manipulate.

It's a socially acceptable addiction as the majority of the world is equally lost in the fog of the same addiction. My closest loved ones are often the people who collude with me the most.

Then, four years ago something incredible happened. I won't tell the story here, but it dramatically and quickly shook me out of the grip of victimhood and into something I will call (for a lack of a better word) God. It was fleeting experience, but it changed the trajectory of my life.

The victim did not die that day, but something in me woke up—and I began the process of sobriety. The process of taking full responsibility for my own life.

It's one of the hardest things I've done, because the lure of victimhood was and is hypnotic. It's sneaky, and I have to stay alert to catch it. I still slip into the fog of victimhood and I'm still in recovery. But, the good news is I've met some people along the way who refuse to collude.

One of those people is my coach. A couple of days ago, we had a session and quickly into it she pointed out that I was acting like a victim to a circumstance in my life. She was right, I could feel it. This circumstance is one of the last places in my life where I haven't been able to get out of the victim fog. It's a place where I still hold on to blame.

As soon as she pointed it out, I felt everything in me begin to resist. I wanted to hold onto blame and keep playing small. It felt scary to let it go. I would have to step up and claim my own power in a situation where I felt powerless—and power comes with responsibility. My body started shaking and tears involuntarily spilled from my eyes. My coach was unshakable, I could feel her holding the truth that I had power in this place where I felt powerless. She didn't believe my victim story for a second.

I kinda hated her.

Then, I popped through. I clearly saw that I wasn't a victim to this circumstance and my system was flooded with both relief and electricity. It felt good. Life on the other side of victim is always one million times more amazing.

Now, two days later I can feel the story of victimhood reentering—but I'm not worried because it doesn't have the same grip. It's not as intoxicating. The process of dismantlement has begun and it's impossible to go back. I've tasted what's on the other side and I want that more than I want to stay stuck in victim.

And, I've surrounded myself with people that won't let that happen anyway.

Life wins again.

This person is not a victim.

How I Became a Stand-up Comedian

As many of you know, this year I completed a 10 month coaching program with a company called OneTaste, where I was in training to become both a life-coach and a trainer of a practice called Orgasmic Meditation.

I went into this program expecting to grow, change and stretch as a human being on many different levels. I also expected to gain skills to start my own coaching and Om training business. All of that happened.

Then, about 3/4 way through the program, something else happened—something totally unexpected.

As part of the coaching program, our group convened once a month for a weekend immersion in San Francisco. One day of each immersion was taught by Nicole Daedone, founder and CEO of OneTaste, author of the book Slow Sex, and mind-blowingly amazing woman. Nicole is a very powerful, awake, and intuitive woman who has the ability to read people like no one I've ever known.

During an immersion, I had an interaction with Nicole in front of the group where we explored my relationship with pleasure. At the end of the interaction, Nicole turned to me and said: "Tomorrow you will give your 10 minute stand-up comedy routine."

Uh, what?

I had never told anyone this, but for years I had been secretly writing stand-up in my head. I had always dreamed of doing stand-up, but I could never get past the fear.

But when Nicole somehow saw that in me, I felt seen and touched at a deep level and something inside me freed up. The next day I did my first ever stand-up routine. I was terrified. All day, while I waited for my time to go on stage, I thought for sure I was going to throw up on the person next to me, or have a panic attack, or have a panic attack while throwing up on the person next to me.

But then, when I got on stage I felt at home. I felt like I was doing the thing I was always meant to do. IT WAS AWESOME AND FUN AND AWESOME!

Would you like to see my first ever stand-up routine? Well, here it is!

And, a couple months later I have put together my own fundraiser comedy show! I'm both excited and nervous and if you live in the Bay Area I hope you will come. All proceeds go to help me pay for my coaching program, with 10% donated to the OT Foundation.  


I've got a super amazing line-up of well accomplished female comedians with long comedian bios, and then there's me. Gulp. This is my current comedian bio:

Sarah has no comedian credentials except a life long existance of being unintentionally akwardly funny. She hopes this show goes well.  Besides being an unintentionally awkardly funny person, she is also a writer, blogger, artist, and life-coach.

You can buy tickets here:

I've always been a person who likes to push my own edges and create a life that is dynamic and alive instead of secure and easy.  This means I'm constantly making choices that push me outside of my comfort zone. But, doing standup and facing my fear of being on stage has challenged and stretched me more than anything I've ever done. I now have an even deeper appreciation for the courage it takes to take risks in pursuit of a living a life fully lived.

Life wins again.

Interested in coaching or Om training? Send me an email:


A True Soulmate

About a year and a half ago, after spending many years single, I met a man. He was perfect—handsome, my age, funny, financially stable, an artist, generous, a good cook, and a good lover. If I had asked God to cut me a man, it would have been him. He was my totally perfect romantic dream come true—well, except for the girlfriend. Yes, my perfect romantic dream come true had one major snafu: Polyamory.

In my early twenties I tried the whole polyamorous thing, only to conclude it sucked. It wasn't a road I wanted to go down again, but I really liked him. Within a week of meeting him, I knew I was falling in love, and I'm not the type of person who falls in love often or easily.

Everything about this situation told the rational side of me to run. It was inevitable that I was going to get hurt, and choosing to put myself in a situation where I would get hurt didn't make any sense to my mind.

Yet, something in me felt this was right. When I would check in with what my heart wanted—it wanted to love him, and when I would check in with what my body wanted—it wanted his touch. It was a scary choice, but I chose to listen to my heart and body over my mind.

In the year we were together, I spent a lot of time waiting. Waiting for him to have time for me, waiting for his attention, waiting for his touch. Finally, we would spend a few fleeting but tender and passionate hours together and then he would drive off to go back to his girlfriend. I would wait for him to leave before breaking down into tears.

Every terrible emotion that I would normally do everything I could to avoid became unavoidable: jealously, loneliness, fear of being abandoned, grief, depression, neediness. I decided to let them come up and not run from them or stuff them down. I let myself feel it all.

I often doubted myself. Many times I told myself I would end it, but when I would check in with my heart, it was still a yes.

My friends tried to intervene—telling me stories of times they did desperate things for a man's attention and how they would never do that again. But, the truth was, I didn't feel desperate. I felt like a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, even though what she was doing looked and felt crazy.

I even had two “spiritual” teachers whose opinions I highly valued tell me I should I end it. But, every time I checked in with my me, I was a yes to continuing it. So, I decided to listen to me.

As time went on, something in me began to shift. When he would leave, I would feel less upset. I began to be able to have conversations with him about his girlfriend without being consumed by jealousy. I began to want to control him less. I began to feel stronger and capable of handling my own emotions.

I began to feel less and less like a needy child, and more and more like a confident woman.

And, then one day, I woke up and realized I had lost the taste for it. I checked with my heart—it was over. I still loved him, but I no longer wanted this relationship. I had gotten everything there was to get, and now it was time to move on.

The next day he called to tell me he decided to be monogamous with his girlfriend. I smiled and told him I understood. We decided to get together to say goodbye and honor our relationship. We had a very sweet goodbye, and I walked away feeling satisfied. I went home expecting to cry, but I couldn't find any tears.

If I had tried to end it at any moment before this, I would have been miserable. I would have been running away from a difficult situation to avoid feeling bad. Now, instead, I could walk away because it was right and because it felt good to do so. I entered into the relationship a girl, and walked out a woman—a woman who knew to listen to and trust the longings of her own heart.

For that, I am ever grateful to this man.

On this Valentine's Day, I leave you with this quote from Elizabeth Gilbert:

"People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.

A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.

A soul mates purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master...."

el carazon



Conversations with My Pussy

Note to readers: In this post I am going to talk about my genitals and I am going to use the word pussy. Just wanted to give you the heads up. Now, read on! About a year ago I got together with an old friend of mine I hadn't seen in a while and immediately noticed she had certain glow about her. She told me that she had started a meditation practice called Orgasmic Meditation (Om for short) and that it was changing her life. She described Om as a partnered practice where a woman takes her pants off, lies down and butterflies her legs open, and her partner (a man or woman) sits to her side and slowly and deliberately strokes the upper left hand quadrant of her clitoris for 15 minutes with no goal but to feel.

Uh, what?

My mind told me this sounded creepy but my body immediately told me something different. I felt a flush of heat through my system, a sudden tingling in my pussy, and a happiness in my heart. I was baffled but curious and overcome with the sudden knowing that this was something I was going to do and that it was going to change my life forever.

Throughout my life, sex and sexuality haunted me. Even though I was an adventurous and open-minded woman when it came to sex—I had dated woman most of my life and dabbled in the BDSM scene amongst other things—something was missing. I felt empty and dried up sexually, and most of the sex I was having felt tepid at best and like a big fake show with a lot of work involved at worst. At some point I grew tired of it all and decided to just stop having it.

At the same time, I always had the feeling that something would come into my life that would offer a path of healing around my sexuality—and when my friend told me about Om I sensed I had found it. I went home that night and signed up for the next how to Om class in San Francisco.

I didn't have a partner or anyone to ask to come with me, but I was told I could find an Om partner there if I chose to have an actual Om. The idea was terrifying, but the actual experience turned out to be quite the opposite. It felt wonderful to have someone put that amount of pointed attention on my pussy, and I could feel sensations that had been locked up in my body opening. I left the class feeling amazing.

But when I went home that night I sat down and burst into tears. My mind began to take over the beautiful experience I had just had with doubtful thoughts. What had I done? How could I have let a stranger touch my pussy? What was I thinking? These people were obviously crazy and I was crazy for having done this! I decided I was never going to Om again.

But, my pussy had other ideas.

That night I dreamt that about 40 starving feral pussy cats burst into my apartment and began clawing, wailing, and moaning at me for food. I looked around and all I had to feed them was small bowl of dried up cat food.

I woke up and understood. My pussy was starving, and dried up “food” was not going to cut it—I needed some true nourishment.

Now, I know this next part is going to sound weird, but all of sudden my pussy spoke to me. This is what it said:

I am dying for this undivided attention. I wish to be worshiped so I can become the queen I was always meant to be.

This is not some shit I could make up in my head, and I'm not the type of person who goes around having conversations with my pussy. Well, I guess I should say—I wasn't the type of person who went around having conversations with my pussy.

In that moment, I knew I had to keep Oming. I've been practicing Om about a two years now, and I'm so grateful I listened to what my body wanted instead of the fears in my head. I'll be writing more about how Om has benefited my life in later posts, but for know I will say that it has radically changed everything about my relationship with my body, being a women, sex, intimacy, men, and relationship.

I have been so moved by how Om has impacted my life that I decided to become a teacher and trainer of Om, and completed a 10 month coaching and Om training program this year.

Om is a path of deep healing around sexuality and intimacy—and I am honored to support people in starting an Om practice. If you are interested in learning Om and/or coaching in living a life based on true desire and aliveness, contact me for an initial chat. For more information about Om, private training, and to watch a heart-moving video about Om, click here. 

For more information about coaching, click here.

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Conversations with My Killer

In my last blog post, I confessed that I'm a killer. I shared a destructive habit I have—which is when I feel hurt by someone instead of staying vulnerable and admitting it, I attempt to take them down with a hurtful comment disguised as a helpful comment. Today, I have another confession to make—I love killing.

While I don't love the habit and its effects on me or the people around me, I do love the feeling of the kill. It sparks a jolt of energy in my system that feels good—a bad kinda good that feels scary to my good girl conditioning.

Last week, after admitting to myself that I enjoy the feeling the kill, I got really curious about my killer. So, I decided to have a conversation with her, and I'm so glad I did—she had some very interesting things to say.

Let me preface this by saying I've always been someone who enjoys exploring the “dark” side of human nature. I've been doing shadow work for years now, and find it much more truthful and fruitful than something like positive thinking. I tried that whole positive thinking thing for about a year a while back, and what I found was that after a few days of working hard to attempt to only think positive thoughts, I usually wanted to stab myself in the eyeballs.

So, when I became aware of the killer in me, I was ready to dive down into the shadows for a meet and greet.

This is my process for shadow work:

  • I set the intention to meet what I can sense is down there
  • I lie down and begin to feel my body descend
  • At some point I start shaking involuntarily and I know I'm close
  • Then some cool shit happens

So, I set the intention to meet my killer, descended down, began shaking—and then suddenly my whole system was flooded with an intense feeling of animalistic power. This was my killer in true form—a powerful prowess. I was in awe.

We began to talk.

She told me that the reason I've been trying to take down my friends with passive aggressive comments is not because I'm weak, but because out of misunderstanding and fear of her power I've kept her chained up in a basement since the age of about eight. The emotional “kills” I targeted at loved ones where like morsels of rotten meat to her. My passive aggressive behavior was just a distorted version of her—and the only game I allowed her to play.

Then she told me she really wants to play a much bigger game.

Basically, she wants to go out into the world and “kill it.” I've been making a lot of uncomfortable and risky changes in my life lately. I ended a twelve year career that I wasn't excited about anymore, started this blog, enrolled in a program to become a coach, began coaching clients, and starting teaching painting classes, amongst other things.

It's scary and challenging and many days I want to hide in my bathtub. But, not her. She's ready to build a killer coaching business and ready to take all the risks that come with doing it.

She also made it clear that she wants a lot of sex.

My whole life I've felt like prey trying to escape unscathed from men on the prowl. But, not her. She's the prowler, not the prey.

It's been two weeks since we first talked, and I'd love to tell you that I've unchained her completely and she now prowls free. I'd love to tell you that I've hunted down ten new coaching clients and captured many-a-male prey for wild nights of beasty romping. But, that would be a fairy-tale version of shadow work.

Currently, we are in a reconciliation process.

She is no longer my enemy and we are in the process of building a trusting friendship. When I notice an urge to take-down someone with an emotional kill, I've been able to stop myself, and remember it just means my killer needs a bigger game. So, I give her one. This has proved awesome because if my life were left up to me, I would spend a lot of time at home rearranging my silverware or pretending to do something while I sneakily did nothing.

And the sex part? Well, it's a work in progress, I've got years of conditioning to contend with, but I have noticed I no longer feel the need to cringe or shrink when men stare at me on the street. And, in general, things have heated up around here a little bit.

I can feel the inherent goodness of her now, and this process has been a powerful reminder to me that all the parts of myself I find ugly, shameful, and non-redeemable are denied sources of power begging to be set free into true form.

The magnitude of her power still scares me at times, but inevitably the prowl has already begun.

Where it leads me? I'll keep you posted.


Confessions of a Killer

I have another confession to make: I'm a killer. A few days ago, I attempted to kill a good friend over brunch. The weapon I used was not a gun, knife, rope, poison, or my bare hands—it was my words. I didn't say anything overtly mean or critical, but instead hit her with a swift emotional karate chop to the gut that was disguised as me saying something helpful. A sneaky killer I am.

But, my friend is the kind of friend who sniffs out bullshit from ten miles away, and she is also the kind of friend who points it out to you—which she did while our other friends pretended to check their Iphones while stuffing their mouths with pancakes.

At first, I protested. I had the perfect alibi—I was just trying to help—but even I couldn't buy my own alibi because when the supposedly helpful words were coming out of my mouth, I could feel the presence of something volatile hanging in between them.

And the truth is, I've tried to kill this way before more often than I want to admit. I'm extremely well versed in the language of cut-downs composed as well meaning suggestions.

So, I decided to sit down and figure out why I do this.

I began deconstructing the days leading up to the attempted kill, and I realized that I tried to cut my friend down because I couldn't stand to feel my own vulnerability.

A few days before brunch, my friend had an amazing experience where she stepped into a new level of personal power and openness. This left me feeling small around her and I don't like feeling small—when I feel small I feel vulnerable.

A few days after that, she didn't return a text I sent her. My head knew she was busy and that it wasn't a big deal, but my heart took it personal. When I feel hurt I feel vulnerable.

When I feel vulnerable I get scared and do whatever I can to cover it up. For me, that means disconnecting from the people I feel vulnerable with, disconnecting from own vulnerability, and then unleashing the killer on them. If I take them down, then I don't have to feel vulnerable anymore and I win.

The only problem is that I actually lose—and I don't want to play a losers game anymore. So, I've decided to play a new game. When I feel hurt and vulnerable I will say it no matter how embarrassing or stupid it feels, and I will stay connected to whomever I perceive as a threat no matter how much I want to kill them instead. Being a sneaky killer is easy, being honest and vulnerably exposed is hard. I'm sure it will be an imperfect game.

During the deconstruction, I also decided to get really curious about my killer. A few nights ago we had a very intimate conversation where I found out what she really wants—and it's awesome. My killer has a much bigger game to play than attempting to take down people I care about—and I'm gonna let her play it.

But, I'll tell you about that in my next post—Conversations with My Killer.

Me, the killer.


Calling All Modern-Day Magic Women

In my number one blog entry, I wrote that I was afraid you would think me a mad woman when you laid eyes on my paintings. This morning, as I hid in bed trying to avoid writing my number three blog entry—the truth hit me: I am not a mad woman, goddammit, I am a magic woman.

If these were the olden, olden, olden days—way back in time before we were all taught to fear the dark and mysterious powers of a woman—I'm certain I would have been revered as a witch, shaman, medicine woman, alchemist or matriarch..

We women had our magic tortured, drowned, burned, raped, electrocuted and manipulated out of us. Our magic slowly turned into our madness—and we eventually turned on ourselves. We eventually began to believe that we were mad and fell under the spell of a victim story. We may not have created this story, but we have perpetuated it against ourselves and other women for centuries.

It is now our responsibility to break the spell--as we are the ones holding ourselves captive by it. Let's break this spell together as our world is desperate for fully empowered women. We can hospice the dying ways of living that are destroying us—and we can mid-wive the new.

But first, let us reclaim what it means to be a woman of magic. We need a manifesto—a verbal declaration of our collective intentions and visions as magic women—and I'm starting one. This will be a living, breathing, document created by the whole. I've started it, and I ask all you beautiful women of magic out there to add to it.

I'm excited to hear from you!

Here's how it works:

  • You can add to the manifesto by clicking on my Facebook page where you will find a Modern-Day Magic Women thread (look for the Magic sign). If you do not use Facebook, either add to the manifesto through the comments sections of this blog or email me directly at
  • I will compile everything into one brilliant manifesto and publish it as a new blog post.
  • I ask that anything you add to the manifesto come from your empowered voice—and is for the good of all of humanity.

P.S. I hope men do not feel left out by this post—I love men—y’all are sexy. I just know that if we women do not claim our magic back, you men will forever be miserable—because more than anything you crave a potent woman. Plus, it will continue to be legal for people to wear socks with flip-flops, and the entire human race will probably die.

Here is my start:

The Manifesto of Modern-Day Magic Women:

  • We allow the world to behold the beauty of our beautiful magic. We do not hide.
  • We allow beauty to be undefined.
  • We choose truth over comfort.
  • We hold death close so we can fully live.
  • We let life use us.
  • We claim full responsibilityfor everything.
  • We revere the mystery, not dogma.
  • We allow that which is beyond our humanness, and that which is our deepest humanness to show us the way.
  • We reclaim the Queendom within, and reign in the name of love and execute in the name of freedom.


P.S. If you live in the Bay Area, come check out my class on Dec. 17th from 6:30 to 8:30.


 P.S.S: Share this post so we can reach more Modern-Day Magic Women!

The Dazzler

I have a confession to make: I want to dazzle you. In my first blog post, I wrote that one of my intentions for this blog was to counter a lifelong habit I've had of hiding. While this is still very true, it is also true that I want to use this blog to dazzle you into liking me. I want you to be impressed by me. I want your attention. I want you to think I'm amazing. I want you to be captivated by my luminosity and blinded by my beauty.

Phew. That is embarrassing to admit, but I'm admitting it because the commitment I made to myself when I decided to start a blog was that I would write naked. No, I don't mean that I'm sitting here without clothes on—I live in the Bay Area for God’s sake, where it is perpetually chilly, so get your mind out of the gutter—but that I would write what is real.

What is real for me right now is that after launching this blog, I became depressed because I realized that my life is controlled by two seemingly opposing forces. Either I want to hide from you, or I want to overly embellish myself in an attempt to snowball you into liking me. If I wasn't doing either of those two things, I would have no idea what to actually do with my life.

I began to wonder: Who am I when I'm not wrapped up in what someone else thinks about me? How would I show up in the world if I didn't feel the need to either hide from or impress others? What would I say? What would I do? What would I write about? What would I wear? How would I act? What would I blog about?

The truth is, I don't know. I've been run by this conditioning for so long, I don't know who the authentic me is anymore.

So, I got depressed because I had no idea what to do about this, and I decided if I couldn't show up on this blog authentically, then I wasn't going to post.

But, yesterday, I remembered something.

A few months ago, while in the middle of a meditation, I was overcome with the feeling of being a complete fake. I felt fake down to my bones. I felt so fake I couldn't speak because anything I would have said would have been fake. It felt terrible, and I had no idea what to do. I had no idea how not to be fake, because I had spent my whole life as a fake.

Then, this thought came to me: I don't have to know what to do, because there is a greater intelligence working inside me that always knows; I only need to give myself over to that greater intelligence.

In that moment, an image of an artificial Christmas tree popped into mind, and I knew that I had been living my life as that tree—ornamented and embellished but devoid of any real life—plastic. The fake feeling was overwhelming, and I thought it would never end. Then, suddenly, the tree burst into flames and turned into a pile of dust. Out of the dust emerged a real, beautiful, lush, and colorful tree. I didn't feel artificial anymore. I could feel myself as that tree, with roots sucking in the deep, healing nourishment of the earth. I felt solid, grounded, alive, juicy, and—for the first time in a long time—real.

I could never have created that experience for myself, but the greater intelligence inside me could; and yesterday I remembered to give myself over to it again. I remembered that even under all my conditioning to hide or embellish, the greater intelligence is at work; and I could relieve myself of trying to figure out what to do. The greater intelligence working inside me knows exactly how to show up in the world. It knows when to push out of hiding, and it knows what to do or say without anything extra.

This doesn't mean I won't hide or embellish again, I just don't feel pressured to get it right anymore, which is a huge relief.

And, in my relief, I realized that both the hiding and the embellishing are ways I attempt to escape feeling my own vulnerability. If I hide, I don't have to feel vulnerable—and if I embellish, I don't have to feel vulnerable. Right under all of my impulsive conditioning to hide or embellish exists a greater impulse—an impulse based on desire and not fear—the impulse to live vulnerably. Life wins again.

Life Wins Again

I’ve got the blog blues. Right now, as I sit down to write my number one blog entry, I am thinking: This was the most terrible, horrible, no-good idea I have ever had. Stop right now and go eat some potato chips.

This is a blog where I attempt to share with you the heart of my hearts. The beating, bloody mess that most people hide so well, they don’t even know they are hiding it. The all of me.

Um, yeah, definitely a dumb idea. But, for some reason, life thinks it’s a good idea, and somehow, life always wins. My big-gun mind has always proved to be no match for the samurai sword of life.

So, here I go.

The first thing I know is that I want to share some of my paintings with you, but I’m afraid. Mostly, for two reasons:

  1. I have no artistic skill, training, or talent. My skill level is that of a seven-year-old, and I couldn’t make it any “better” if I tried. I’m afraid you will look at my paintings and laugh.
  1. My paintings are generally, well, a bit intense. I’m afraid you will look at them and think me a mad woman.

As a child, I naturally followed my creative impulse, but then, like for many people, my early life experiences taught me to shut down to creativity. I learned that because I didn’t have artistic skill or talent, I should leave creativity and art for those who did—and spent years walking around with a burning, unfulfilled desire to create. Then, at one point, the desire became so strong, it trumped my fears and beliefs, and I was compelled to pick up a paintbrush and see what happened.

This is what I discovered:

  • The paintbrush doesn’t have an opinion about the strokes I make with it.
  • The paint doesn’t have an opinion about what I paint with it.
  • The blank piece of paper doesn’t have an opinion about what my paintings look like.
  • The creative source has no agenda or preferences—only a desire to be well used.

This doesn’t mean it is easy. It's actually amazing how much an opinion-less blank piece of paper has managed to mess with everything I have ever thought to be true, and expose places inside me that I would much prefer stay hidden. Along the way, my personal will has proved to be a total bitch—but desire the queen. She pushes me to places in my paintings—and life—that I would never go on my own. No matter how much I kick and scream, the queen reigns again and again.

And, fortunately, I found an expert navigator when I happened upon a place called The Painting Studio: Center for Creative Exploration in San Francisco and met Barbara Kaufman—who has been my teacher and guide in the ways of creativity for eleven years now.

If you were to ask me why I paint what I do, I would have to tell you: I don’t paint it—life does. So it would be totally awesome if you would ask it and let me know what it says so I will have something interesting to blog about.

But, for now, my desire to come out of hiding has trumped my fears not to. Life wins again.

So, here you go.

P.S. In life’s endless quest to push my edges and have me stretch into uncomfortable places, I will be teaching my second-ever creativity class for adults—Painting Wide-Open—on Sunday, November 24th from 2 to 4 in San Francisco. If you live in the Bay Area, I would love it if you were there. No experience or artistic skill necessary.