How I Found my Keys Buried Alive in Middle Earth


This morning I was in Savasana (also known as the “corpse pose” in yoga, where you’re stretched out flat on your back, hands at your sides), letting myself melt into the mat. I felt very heavy—not at all how I used to feel when physical yoga was my life, my daily practice, a long time ago. In 2004 my life really shifted from Being to Doing.

Back then, I was a Shen emotional relief therapist and massage therapist with a private practice and two clinics, one in Beverly Hills and one Santa Barbara. I had created and taught a variety of classes, from spiritual growth and meditation to a sacred sexuality class for women called “Yoni Yoga.” I lived in Los Olivos, in wine country in the hills just north of Santa Barbara, and my life looked very different then from how it looked has for the last eleven years, where I’ve been building direct-selling networks and social enterprises, speaking to large audiences, and traveling the world delivering humanitarian solutions. I’m not complaining; I have absolutely loved and am hugely grateful for all I have gotten to do and the literally tens of thousands of people I’ve been blessed to support with clean water, education, and empowerment! I am now living in Ecuador, and my life today is much more like it was back before 2004, where ease and grace now lead me instead of “what’s next to do?” leading me, where lots of walks with my dog (I had two Yorkies back then; today I have my Cairn terrier, Barnaby) and lots of inward connection propel me into a different kind of service to humanity.

So, back to me on my yoga mat. . . . I am feeling heavy . . . I begin to allow Spirit to melt me, starting at the top of my head and moving down, and as I melt, I begin to feel a lifting sensation in my body. I can feel and see (with my inner vision) my head leave the mat, then my shoulders, but my heart and solar plexus won’t rise. I then see Angels coming to either side of me and literally squeeze down on me, like mooshing me down; I have tears rolling down my face. My upper body then lifts, and there I am, with half my body energetically lifted to the sky and half my body is planted firmly, heavily on the floor, from my second chakra (the area just below the belly button, which the ancient Sufi masters called the “Kath,” or true Seat of Self, and where guilt, shame, insecurity, self-doubt, but also self-esteem and confidence, live, emotionally speaking) on down to my feet!

As I see myself like this and feel the weight of what is holding me down, I just explode in deep waves of emotion—a catharsis—and open my body to release it, wave after gushing wave. I sense and see with inner vision the Angels literally pushing and mooshing and squeezing, down and out, all the toxins and painful emotion—stuck energy. A few minutes into this happening, I see my lower body lift off the ground to join my upper body, and I instantly see Angels on either side of me, their arms scooping under me and lifting me and holding me . . . embracing, caressing me. Then they form a cradle with their arms to support me, and I am rocked back and forth; all the while, I’m weeping—and occasionally laughing (because that’s what happens when pain leaves the body; joy enters.)

Suddenly, Barnaby gets up from wherever he was, and I feel him quickly lick my left fingers, then walk around my head to the right side and lick my cheek and my neck, then my right fingers, and then I sense him lie down at my right side, though not touching me. And I immediately flash back to an image of him and me in the “Dreamweaver” (my friend and shaman, Rafael, has this healing device at his studio in San Clemente, California; I had a session with him in November before heading to Ecuador), when Barnaby had done the exact same thing! Instantly and without warning, my entire body breaks through the floor of my building and bam! bam! bam! three floors below, and into the ground I go—not into dirt, but into the soil—and I am suddenly completed surrounded by soil, inside the earth, the middle of the earth in Ecuador.

I am buried alive, but I am not scared.

My hands are on my chest as though I have been laid to rest, but I can breathe, and there is plenty of air around me in the dark, rich, incredible black-brown soil, which feels good, like I can lie here forever and be nourished. And suddenly, as if I am standing in front of a huge aquarium where you can see life below the water and also what is above the water, I can see the top of the earth just above the soil and the middle of the earth at the same time; above me, I can see the roots of thousands of flowers—as though I were lying under a huge flower farm—and I can still see myself thick in the soil.

I ask the Angels, “Am I—or was I—buried? Where?” The Angels reply, “It’s here.” I just breathe a long sigh out and feel completely at home. After what feels like a long time (but not long enough), I hear the Angels say, “Enough for now,” and I am instantly and quickly whisked up, up, up through the soil, back on top of land. The Angels are all gathered around me, helping me to my feet and brushing the soil off me. I come back into the living room and into my body lying on the yoga mat. I feel happy, peaceful, and completely nurtured.

I thought that was the end of my journey with the Angels for the moment, but they had more for me on this day. . . .

Full of joy and energy, I decide to take Barnaby for a walk by the river. It is another glorious day in what is called here the “eternal spring”—perfect weather, with blazing sun and cooling breezes flowing in the Andes of Ecuador!

Barnaby and I get to my favorite spot—I call it the fairy glen—where the grass above the river gives way to beautiful flowers and thick green bushes and low mossy trees. I decide to make a playful video so I can share this moment with my man, who is currently in Africa, thousands of miles away.

IMG_3279 IMG_3281

I sit on the grass by the river and twirl around with my iPhone on “video record” so he can get a 360-degree view of this incredible locale as I spin and laugh. But when I stop recording and get up to go, I feel—almost like it is a habit—guilty, and I hear that old familiar voice I must have heard hundreds of times since childhood, saying, “You should be working. What are you doing on a Monday playing around?” I know, of course, this is not the truth, but rather a learned program I adopted from watching my mother work hard to raise six children on her own. I hear the Angels say to me, “‘Listening’ is your ‘Doing’ right now. You need to trust, trust, trust.” So I say out loud, completely not caring who might hear, and anyway knowing there is only me, Barnaby, and the roar of the river, “Okay, I trust. More than ever. I feel it. I am in alignment with my purpose; my life is more magical than I could have hoped.”

I leave the fairy glen with Barnaby to begin the half-mile walk home, and I feel the pull of an incredible lunch and siesta awaiting me upon my arrival, making me walk faster than the casual stroll I took getting there.

Sweating now, I enter the main doors to my high-rise. I reach into my pocket for my apartment keys . . . EMPTY! What??!!

I will not go into the details here of what it was like for the three minutes of panic I encountered, trying, through my broken Spanish with my Spanish-only-speaking doorman, to get ahold of my landlord. Instead, I will just jump to how I determined that my only real choice was to go back to the river and find my keys. And I just know, somehow, that there is no way, after all I had just experienced this morning, that I could be locked out of my apartment all day.

Back to the river!

Mind you, I had taken a very long walk, and poor Barnaby is by now visibly tired, and it is rather warmer than usual today. The keys could be anywhere along my fun, fanciful, skipping, running-with-Barnaby adventure along the river we enjoyed this morning . . . but I know where the keys are! And I rush Barnaby as much as I can, bribing him with “Let’s find the squirrels!” which makes him instantly move faster by habit, and speaking out loud I say, “I know, I know, I know where they are! St. Anthony and St. Michael, please let them still be there in my fairy glen!”

We approach the glen, and my anticipation is level 100. I drop the leash, letting Barnaby rest as I rush the remaining yards to my twirling spot. And yes! There they are. Using my iPhone, I snap a picture to remind me of this moment, this day, and I notice the time: 11:44 am. I know, from my study over the years of Numerology and Angel Guidance, that it means there is a large band of Angels all around, helping me right now, and that I am creating a solid foundation for long-term success.


I ask the Angels, “Why did I lose my keys? What are they the keys to?”

I hear the answer. “They are the keys to your life and therefore a reminder that the key to fulfilling why you are here is trust. Trust. Trust.”

I think about that for a moment. You know, how much trust do I need? Holy moly. I’ve taken risks in my life that few I know have been willing to; I recently moved to Africa, and then up and moved to Ecuador by myself, not speaking the language and knowing just one person where I was going. And I am being asked to trust more.

My thoughts flash back to being on the yoga mat, being squeezed by the Angels, removing the lower energies from my body— namely, my second chakra, where doubt resides—and I realize I am being initiated into my true self, where doubt has no room any longer, at all, in my body, my life, my path. It is GO time.


Dance, Love, Smile… Spryte

Ps. I know I promised you the next part of my True Love story, but… the Angels had another creation at hand. I promise, its coming soon, and worth the wait. If you love romantic, heartbeat love stories, I have one for you that will knock your socks off. 🙂

One thought on “How I Found my Keys Buried Alive in Middle Earth

  1. I love this Spryte … and the movement from Doing to Being is exactly timed for you, as is knowing there’s a different level of Service. We cannot all be in the trenches for the world, as you’ve been for so long now. Thank you for making time to listen and let the Angels keep flying you into sharing your journey. That’s another kind of miracle, yes?!

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