There are zero boundaries for love and joy. Bring it!

If humans had taglines, what would yours be?

Respectfully…..No

What does freedom mean to you?

Freedom feels like joy

It sings through me, no mask, no ploy

A rising sun none can destroy

Freedom sounds like a peaceful hum

A sacred echo with all fear undone

A lullaby beneath the beating drum

No judgement, no fear, it’s just and clear. Uplifting and soaring

Wings wide open, every soul restoring

Truth like water, endlessly pouring

Refreshing and satisfying

Like honey and rain, mystic and clarifying

A feast of truth, no more denying

Smells of nature that brings joy to my nose like a garden, or seaside or fresh rain

Earth’s own incense, wild and plain

A holy breath that breaks the chain

No limits no boundaries right left up down or in between it’s infinite

A dance unbound, a cosmic stream

The pulse of stars inside a dream

To my heart it feels painless and easy to be

A life that flows, unchained, carefree

Where love is law, and all are free

That’s what freedom feels to me

What public figure do you disagree with the most?

The public figure I most vehemently disagree with is Adolf Hitler. His vision for society was rooted in a twisted, violent ideology that sought racial, religious, and cultural purity—one that justified oppression, brutality, and mass extermination. He had a chilling ability to manipulate the public, convincing many that his hate-filled philosophy was truth. With calculated steps, he stripped rights from Jewish citizens, starting with professionals—bankers, lawyers, doctors—cutting off their ability to earn a living and serve their communities. Then came the children, banned from schools. Then came the arrests, the roundups, the camps.

But it wasn’t just the Jewish population who were targeted. Hitler’s regime also systematically murdered Romani people, disabled individuals, people of African descent, LGBTQ+ individuals, and anyone who dared to show sympathy or solidarity—including priests, nurses, doctors, nuns, and everyday citizens who acted with compassion. His cruelty extended even to the most vulnerable—infants, children, and the elderly—none were spared.

What was done to these human beings was inhumane beyond measure. Families were ripped apart, entire bloodlines erased, and entire generations traumatized by the terror he unleashed. Hitler didn’t just kill millions—he desecrated the soul of humanity.

To disagree with Hitler is not simply a political stance—it is a moral obligation. His actions represent the darkest depths of what can happen when hatred, power, and apathy collide.

What do you do to be involved in the community?

Community worker here.

What’s a job you would like to do for just one day?

If I could have any job for a day, I’d want to be someone who gives second chances. Not just handing them out, but helping people see the moment they could choose again. A job where I’d stand at the crossroads of a bad decision and say, “It’s okay. Let’s try that again.”

Maybe I’d be called a Restoration Guide or a Keeper of Second Chances. My work wouldn’t involve punishment, but perspective. Not erasing mistakes, but walking people back to the moment before the lie, the shove, the eye roll, the crossed-out face.

I think I might’ve already done that job, just for a moment.

The Boy with the Crossed Out Face

Today, I had to walk through the middle school cafeteria. Something I typically avoid at all costs. The noise, the chaos, the unpredictable energy of it all sets off something in me. Old memories. Childhood wounds. And yet, there I was, cutting through the crowd of voices and trays and motion.

I noticed two boys play-fighting, fists raised, bodies jostling in that careless, “just kidding” way that still has weight behind it. I don’t like that. I never have. As a kid, I got knocked down during someone else’s game, and that impact never quite left me.

One of the boys caught my eye and immediately returned to his seat. The other didn’t. He strutted, eye-rolled, and tossed disrespect like confetti. A power struggle with a child isn’t something I seek out, but there it was. So I asked for his name. He deflected. Over and over: “What do you care?”

I looked at the badge around his neck. His face was crossed out in pen. I felt something deep in my chest. Whether it was meant as a joke or something darker, it sent a message. I don’t want to be seen.

Then he told me it wasn’t his badge. Switched with a friend’s. And I could’ve argued with him in that loud space, but I chose not to. I pointed toward the office. We walked. He stomped. He repeated the question. What did I even do?

Once the door shut behind us and the silence took hold, I said, “Sit down so I can talk to you like a human.”

Then I got very clear. “The reason you’re here is because you lied about your name. That is not ok.” I paused to let that land, then followed with truth. “You’re not in trouble. Even though—let’s be honest—your attitude, the disrespect, the lying, and that face with your fist up and ready to throw dirty blueberries at your friend? Yeah, that easily could have earned you something.” I smiled gently. “But that’s not what this is about.”

I told him he needed to always tell the truth. That as a teacher and a parent, my first thought was safety. My second thought was ethics. And my third was accountability.

I told him I have a son his age. That if my boy ever acted this way, I’d hope someone, anyone, would take a moment and remind him of what matters. That the truth matters. That he matters.

His posture changed. Eyes filled. Maybe just for a moment. Maybe enough.

I told him to go enjoy his lunch.

I don’t know what happened after that. But I do know what happened to me. Something softened. Something that’s been hardened by weeks of exhaustion, injustice, and watching adults fail kids left and right.

Today, I saw someone’s child and I imagined my own. I gave what I would want given. Not a lecture. Not control. Just a moment of dignity. Human to human.

And I hope, wherever he is right now, he remembers what it felt like to be seen.

What are your favorite brands and why?

Awareness as a Sacred Act: Living the Call of 5D Consciousness

5D consciousness isn’t just about being “awake.” It’s not a trendy buzzword or a spiritual status symbol. It’s not a place you arrive and rest. It is an ongoing state of awareness—a sacred responsibility to remain present, clear, and aligned with a truth deeper than fear. It’s about remembering who we are, moment by moment, and choosing to hold the light in a world that is remembering with us.

We are far more powerful than we’ve been taught. Our free will alone is a testament to that. And the more we awaken to this power, the more we’re called to use it responsibly—not just for ourselves, but for the collective.

Let’s begin with the landscape.

From 3D to 5D: A Simple Breakdown

3D consciousness is rooted in survival, fear, and separation. The world feels black-and-white. Time appears linear. Identity is shaped by ego and form. Life is something that happens to us.

4D consciousness is the bridge of awakening. We begin to question, to seek, to remember. Spiritual curiosity opens. We explore healing, duality, and energy, though ego can still influence the journey.

5D consciousness is unity, presence, and love. We understand time is not fixed, energy is the foundation, and fear is a programmed response. In 5D, we no longer just seek awareness—we live it. We are no longer ruled by attachment or control. We remember that we are creators.

My Journey to the Flame

I was born with a sense of awareness, though I didn’t fully recognize it until 2006. I had abilities—subtle, sacred things I couldn’t explain—but it wasn’t until that year that I began asking the bigger questions. Why am I here? What is the purpose of all this?

There was a quiet spark inside me that whispered, there is more. And that spark grew.

After the birth of my first child in 2007, words began to pour out of me like medicine. I found myself writing in ways that moved those around me. It became addictive—not for ego, but for wonder. What else is possible?

I spent hours at Barnes and Noble, reading everything I could about consciousness, energy, and the unseen. Meditation became my lifeline. Through it, that small spark became a bonfire. When COVID came, I first heard the term “5D consciousness,” and suddenly everything made sense. I had been walking toward it my whole life.

A Visitation That Changed Everything

In 2018, I got very sick. The kind of sick that brings your greatest fears to the surface. I was diagnosed with cancer, and the fear was overwhelming.

But I was blessed with something most don’t live to tell.

I had a divine experience—an encounter with what I know as Source, God, Creator, the Lord. There are many names for this energy. For me, it appeared in a form similar to Jesus. The moment lasted maybe one minute, but it has lived inside me with perfect clarity ever since.

I was shown three truths:

Time is not real. It just feels that way.
Love is all that exists. Fear is an earthly concept.
Dying is waking up. It feels like a relief.

At the time, I didn’t have the language to explain it, but I understood it completely. I was safe. I was loved. And I was reminded that fear and ego were human tools, not truths. I was shown that those I love—even the ones still here—were already on the other side, waiting. As if we had all already lived this lifetime and chose it together to remember something vital.

Of course, I still feel fear. I’m a mother. But now I understand that my fear is based in love, not separation.

What Free Will Really Means

Free will is more than choosing what to eat or where to go. It’s the sacred ability to shape reality. Each choice creates a different outcome. And the more we become aware of this truth, the more intentional we become with our lives.

I use my spiritual team daily. I go within. I ask my inner compass—my light—to guide me. And above all else, I check my intention.

I always ask, “What is best for all involved?” Then I let go. I trust.

It’s also vital to remember that while we can guide our own free will, the will of others is not ours to control. That’s why the light within matters so deeply. When we embody it, others will feel it. They’ll want to remember, too. And when they ask, we’ll show them—not by force, but by example.

Your Awareness is the Light

This moment in time is not accidental. We are here now, not to fix the world through fear, but to remember the light we carry and to live from it. 5D consciousness is not about escape—it is about full presence. It is the remembering of unity while living in form.

This path isn’t about being perfect. It’s about choosing awareness again and again. That is how we shift timelines. That is how we create peace. That is how we lead others home.

Five Questions for the Awakening Soul

1. In what moments of your life have you felt a knowing that there is more to this reality than meets the eye—and how did you respond to that knowing?

2. When fear, judgment, or ego takes the wheel, what practices or inner reminders help you return to the awareness that you are the captain of your own ship?

3. How does your understanding of free will shift when you recognize it as a sacred power tied to conscious awareness, not just choice?

4. Can you recall a time when you chose awareness over reactivity, and how that choice shaped your reality—for you or others?

5. If you believed your presence alone could ripple light into the collective, how would you carry yourself differently each day?

What topics do you like to discuss?

Sing Your Way Into Alignment: A Mantra Manifestation Hack That Actually Helped Me

There’s something about writing when you’re feeling good—it’s like passing around sunshine in a jar. So today, I want to share something simple that changed my life in the hardest of times: a manifestation technique that came out of the dark.

Years ago, I read a book—The Millionaire Next Door—and while the title might sound flashy, what stuck with me wasn’t about money. It was about mindset. One line stayed with me: “What you think, you become.” Not a new idea, but one that hit deep. The book emphasized repeating your desires—50 times a day, undistracted. The universal law, it said, was to deliver.

Sounds easy? It’s not. Try saying the same phrase 50 times a day without your mind wandering or your voice growing tired of itself. I tried. I really did. Driving in the car, chanting “Please bring abundance!” over and over. Some days it felt powerful. Other days, it felt robotic. But here’s the thing: when I stuck with it, life shifted. Not overnight. But undeniably.

Still, humans are funny. When things are good, we coast. When things fall apart, we scramble back to the rituals that once saved us—only now, they feel heavy, like penance.

That’s when I decided I needed something different. Something light. Playful. Easy to remember. And so, during a particularly low moment, I created a mantra that would actually stick. I gave it a melody.

You can use any children’s song you know. I used Skip to My Lou. Here’s what I sing:

“I am love, health, wealth, peace, prosperity,

Harmony, justice, debt-free.

I am love, health, wealth, joy, peace, prosperity,

Harmony, justice, debt-free!”

Catchy, right? I hum it while cooking, walking, sitting in traffic. Out loud when I’m alone. In my head when I’m not. No pressure, no perfection—just rhythm and repetition.

It’s not a guarantee. It’s a why not. A gentle experiment. What if the universe really does respond to frequency? What if you really do have the power to change your inner weather?

But here’s the key: You have to believe you deserve the best version of yourself. You have to trust that your best self already exists somewhere—and that with enough alignment, you can meet them.

It’s not about tricking the universe. It’s about tuning your vibration to the life that’s been waiting for you.

So why not try it? Sing it, feel it, become it.

If you can see it, you can be it.

Just be sure you vibe up to maintain.

What gives you direction in life?

A reflection from the heart of a special education teacher

My purpose is simple, but sacred: to make the world a better place by starting with my own children and extending that love and care to the students I serve, especially those in special education.

I want every child to know they are seen. That they are heard. That no matter how difficult or confusing life gets, they are never, ever alone.

In my work, I teach advocacy, not just as a concept, but as a living, breathing practice. I teach that feelings matter. That their voice holds weight. That it’s okay to ask for what they need and to believe they’re worthy of receiving it.

Yesterday reminded me just how vital that is.

One of my second graders, who’s been receiving services with me for over a year, had a breakdown. Not a minor one either, the kind that stops everything in its tracks. I had never seen him shut down like that before. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t regroup, and nothing I tried seemed to help.

At first, I felt that creeping frustration, the familiar pull to fix the moment. But something in me paused. I took a breath and remembered: this wasn’t about me.

He kept repeating the same scenario over and over, and honestly, it didn’t make much sense. But that wasn’t the point. He needed space. Space to feel whatever had followed him into the building that morning. Space to be confused, to be upset, to not be okay.

And maybe most of all, space to be held with compassion instead of control.

I stayed with him in that space. Still, I could feel it: he needed more. So I reached out to his father, who works at our school. When his dad came, something shifted. After a few more tantrums and a lot of patience, the child was finally able to speak his truth. His dad listened, really listened, and understood what had happened.

Then came the part that still brings a lump to my throat. They hugged. They reset.

That moment was sacred. A turning point.

Afterward, I walked my student back to class, made sure he had something to eat, and gave him the time he needed to ease back into his day. It wasn’t a dramatic gesture. Just care. Presence. A small act of love that met him where he was.

And yes, a snack. Sometimes it really is that simple.

As teachers, we know there’s never enough time in the day to give space to every child the way we wish we could. For many, it can feel difficult or inconvenient, to stop the clock for just one student, especially when we’ve carefully planned out our day. But that’s what I strive to do most.

My students, even though I see only a few at a time and often work one-on-one, know they can count on me to make space in my day, no matter what plans or assignments are on the agenda. Because yes, academics are important. But we all have bad days. We all need someone to see us, especially when we’re struggling.

This is why I do what I do. Because even the tiniest people deserve to be treated fairly. Their feelings aren’t too small. Their stories aren’t too silly. They are full, complex human beings, and they matter.

Always.

Making the world a better place, one soul at a time, isn’t an instant process. It’s slow, sacred work. It might take my entire lifetime. And that’s exactly why it gives me direction.

Do you have a quote you live your life by or think of often?

I can’t say there’s just one quote I live by. Each day brings its own lessons, and with that, different words tend to rise to the surface. But there are a few that consistently resonate with me.

One is “A day without laughter is a day wasted.” It’s a simple reminder that joy is essential, even in the most challenging moments.

Another is something someone I deeply respect once said: “Don’t ever let anyone tell you who you are. Define yourself.” That one has helped anchor me more than once.

Then there are the sayings that come with life’s harder-earned wisdom. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” And of course, “A leopard never changes its spots” and “If it quacks like a duck, it’s a duck.” Those help me keep my discernment sharp and my boundaries clear.

So while I may not live by just one quote, I live by the truths that find me when I need them most.