This was something between a wake-up call and an awakening.

It was a warm, fall afternoon. The type of day where the senses were delighted by the weather; smell, sight, touch, just everything autumn. I had arrived to work early so I could leave a little early too. At my job, I had recently been promoted from cubicle to my own office, and the only thing I liked about my situation was being one of the few with status and space at this wildly successful technology consulting company. I looked up the address for my appointment, and felt surprised it was in an upscale, historic neighborhood. On the recommendation of a friend, I was about to do something I had never done before, and I was nervous to tell anyone about it.

Now at my destination – a historic mansion converted to office suites – my senses were stimulated again but also a little…confused? I smelled a clean, earthy smell. I saw props like feathers, crystals, rattles, and sticks. Then getting up from his chair was the man I came to see: a shaman. He was finishing his Chipotle lunch. Wait, was this him? It was a confusing rush to meet a shaman for the first time, expecting an otherworldly introduction. But he looked like he could have been my co-worker, and he was eating the same lunch I sometimes get. A collision of two worlds. At that moment a bubble popped. In some reality I just stepped into, shaman co-existed in the same office spaces as lawyers, accountants, and designers (this building was proof). My understanding of the world contradicted what I was seeing. I thought he wasn’t supposed to be financially successful? Ego aside, I went openly into the session.

Leaving 1.5 hours later and driving home through familiar streets, I was astonished by how different reality looked. I could see the depth, clarity, and crispness of the colors around me. It was like I could see life force in those reds, oranges, and yellows illuminating the trees and sky. Just being me was a pure delight. What an honor it was to drive through rush hour traffic because that meant extra time soaking up oneness with anonymous souls around me. Feeling clear headed and grounded, I was connected, part of it all. I knew I mattered and I didn’t matter at all. The duality was positively beautiful and I wanted to hold on forever because this feeling gave me permission to stop trying so. Damn. Hard. I didn’t realize at the time, but my entire understanding of what mattered in life had just shifted.

Whether I went to the shaman again or not didn’t matter (I did go back). What mattered is that I had realized I spent most of my life Velcroed to a treadmill of achievement (yes Velcro, that’s how unnatural it felt), and this gentle-yet-personal energy healing leveled me up so quickly and perfectly. From that moment, curiosity took hold like a strong, slow current and I went to many types of healers, often once or twice to the same person then moving along. I gently released layers of non-self. Seven years of experiences catalyzed something else too. I learned. Maybe I could start doing this for myself one day?

The gal who walked into the shaman’s office was an ambitious 29-year-old feeling lost; simultaneously underwhelmed and overwhelmed with life. Things were great on many levels but I was burning myself out chasing goals I didn’t need to chase, just because I thought I had to. With energy healing, obstacles that seem invisible, immovable were softened. Themes like committing to my now husband, gracefully exiting corporate America, rediscovering loving friendships, and healing my barriers to love mom and dad fully, have all made their way to my intention before a session. Energy healing never would have crossed my radar until it did and wiggled into the foundation of my life. I am so grateful for that fall afternoon.