Throat Chakra Girl

The day had arrived and I was a mess. My anxiety was high and Toronto driving was not helping. Packing hematite in both pockets, because I needed all the grounding I could get.

We barely found parking. The clock was ticking down. At one point my husband told me I should just head in without him and he would circle around.

By the time we got out of the car, I was on the brink of having a panic attack. He stopped me in the street and told me to breathe. It was cold, unseasonably cold. I should have worn a jacket. My muscles were cramping and we weren’t going to make it on time. We had committed the tragic mistake of parking at the Mars building, and coming out the wrong side of the underground. We had so far to go to get to where I needed to be.

I made it to my waiting area with 6 minutes to spare. My husband had rushed back to pay for parking, after forgetting to do it.

I scanned the waiting room. Maybe a dozen other people filled the room. Some masked, some not. Some old, and some young. I noticed the woman there with her husband and toddler. Something about that tugged at my heart.

My husband rejoined me and I got called into a waiting room. In the hallway, I could see my oncologist verbally dictating notes. My husband and I made small talk, with the occasional medical terms floating around in the background.

I could hear the nurse in the next room with a patient.

“Has your voice changed at all since surgery?”

“Oh ya, I sound a lot different.”

“Have you noticed any other side effects?”

“Well, everything I eat tastes the same. Last week I had coffee and it tasted like salt.”

I cringed.

“That does sometimes happen with radiation. It likely won’t last. Okay, we are going to scope you now. That’s it, you’re doing great.”

The scope, as it turned out, was the device that was hanging in our room that kept hitting my husband in the head. Call it a foreshadowing of sorts.

Then it was my turn. A nurse came in the room first and asked me some questions.

“Are you having any symptoms? Trouble swallowing?”

The million dollar question.

“Yes, actually. There are certain things I am struggling with. Dry things, like bread, and chewy things, like my protein bars.”

“Okay we are going to scope you.”

I froze. I wasn’t expecting that.

“I am going to insert this tube up your nose, and down your throat. The hardest part is the nose. It feels like getting a Covid swab.”

Turns out she was a liar, and a sadist. The nose was easy compared to the throat. I swallowed.

“Oh no, try not to swallow, and breathe through your nose.”

Mind over matter I told myself. Relax. Nope. Swallow.

“Try not to swallow.”

Swallow. Swallow. Swallow. It was all I could do now. I was panicking. I went into fight or flight mode. I no longer saw her, it was just blind fear. Arms flailing, I’m surprised I didn’t hit her.

“Okay, okay. All done. You did great.”

Liar.

I was coughing, tears running down my face. Nose burning, and the feeling of something lingering in my throat. I quickly tried to gather myself.

Dr.G came in shortly after. He was a tiny man in black plastic rimmed glasses, and scrubs. He wore rubber shoes that looked like clogs. He stood on the outside of his feet the entire time he spoke to me. He was like a leprechaun, and I hoped he had a pot of gold at the end of his rainbow, because my patience was getting really thin.

“Okay Amanda, so our team reviewed your pathology and it came back as benign.”

“Oh great!”

“Yeah, but, the ultrasound you had done here last week, showed a 4 out of 5 risk of this being cancer.”

Here we go again. Not cancer, but not-not cancer either.

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, we aren’t sure about the discrepancy between the two. My suggestion would be to repeat the biopsy.”

“Don’t biopsy results normally trump ultrasound results?”

“Usually, yes. That is why I figure if we get one more benign biopsy result, we will conclude that it is the case.”

“I have a secondary biopsy booked for December 9th. My endo booked it thinking it might be necessary.”

“That’s great. Have the report sent here and we will call you with the results just before the holidays, so you don’t have to come out all this way again.”

“Or, if the results are bad, wait until after the holidays.” lol

My nervous habit of making jokes, even bad ones, was making an appearance.

He also mentioned he wouldn’t opt for surgery with a benign mass. I had received differing information on that. It can injure the vocal cords, and since thyroid nodules are slow growing, our esophagus usually adapts around them. He had patients with 8 to 9cm masses still in their throats. Mine was 3.2.

“From there, you would just be monitored.”

We would keep an eye on thing 1, and biopsy thing 2 once it was large enough.

Some of the information was a relief, but I was tired. Tired of the back and forth, and the not knowing. Tired of the tests, procedures and appointments. Access to healthcare is a privilege, and yet I longed for the days where a day off meant doing something I enjoyed. Maybe that will be the case again soon.

The day of the retreat had arrived. I headed over tentatively. I was still contemplating the significance of this. I knew there had to be a reason I ended up connecting with S.

When I first heard from her as a response to my Facebook post, it seemed to just be a nice coincidence that she had a meditation and sound bath planned for the day of my oncology appointment. When she told me she also had a throat chakra retreat planned, well, that was when I found it hard to believe she hadn’t intentionally been placed on my path.

The retreat was half a day, taking place in her home studio. We would be spending the day meditating, journaling, sharing and eating. All of this would be capped off with a sound bath.

It was a small group of ladies. We went through our introductions and started talking about what had brought us to the retreat, and our connection to the throat chakra.

Our throat chakra is the energy centre in our throat. It is responsible for communication and truth. Many of the women had felt silenced as children, the idea of kids being seen, but not heard. For many that had created anxiety issues around public speaking, or simply stopped them from using their voices.

The lady who spoke before me had been crying. I took note of it. I didn’t judge her but it made me feel a bit squeamish, the idea of being so open with people we mostly didn’t know.

My turn came to share. I had been rehearsing it in my head.

“My journey started as something health related that lead me to meditation. I ended up meeting S & L through a Facebook post while looking for meditation classes.

I mentioned the events S had told me about, and how this one hardly felt like a coincidence to me.

As I started to get into my health issues, and the fact that I might have cancer, I felt a burning in my throat. That constricting and swallowing that starts before you cry. I was horrified. I tried to trample it down, but I couldn’t.

I was ugly crying. Sobbing, gulping and gasping. I couldn’t speak. I just cried. Whispering “sorry”, inbetween gasps as I tried to collect myself. They sat in silence while I gathered myself. It wasn’t rushed, or uncomfortable, it just was.

I realized then that I hadn’t cried throughout this whole process, not really. I cried for a moment when I got my biopsy report. It almost felt like crying was omission of belief. The belief that I did have cancer. I felt my mind go into those dark corners as I lay awake in bed sometimes, but I also felt that thinking it, becomes living it.

When I stopped crying, I managed to continue speaking. I spoke of the fear I had around my possible diagnosis. The fact that I should have some answers soon. I noticed that I didn’t feel that heavy, emotional drain that I normally would after crying like that. The kind that leaves you yearning for a nap. I just felt lighter.

The rest of the day passed by peacefully. We ate lots of brie and baguettes, journaled some prompts about the throat chakra, and did some breath work and meditation.

It takes a lot for me to feel comfortable with people, and yet I was at ease. I was starting to encounter people who were aligned with the new path I was on. A path that was entirely different than any path I had yet to venture on. A path that makes you feel vulnerable at times, and yet it was also rewarding. Peeling away the layers of yourself that had left you numb.

L, who ran the sound bath component of these events, and I had connected over crystals. She had told me about an amazing wholesaler out in Fergus that will be visiting soon. She also gifted us each a beautiful piece of raw kyanite, which is connected to the throat chakra.

S knew of my love of crystals as well. She even asked if I taught a crystal classes. During our conversation she mentioned being drawn to moss agate. I decided that I would get her one, her first crystal, for when I saw her next. She had found herself drawn to it, and I know how special that feeling can be. Though, if you asked my husband, he would tell you that I have been drawn to far too many crystals 😅.

After our journaling we were asked if we would like to share anything else. A lot of the prompts during our journaling were about speaking your truth. I have come to realize that for many, speaking the truth is the easy part. It is living your truth that can be most difficult. Often, people believe that if they unburden themselves with words, that is enough to move forward. If we speak, and never learn, never change our behaviours, our words have just been empty. That is something I realized during my time with the group.

I ended up buying S a tree agate. It reminded me of the trees in her backyard that I experienced during my first sound bath meditation with her and L. It felt really nice to be the one to give her the first crystal, and she was touched that I remembered her mentioning it.

Tree agate is the sister to both dendritic agate, and moss agate. It helps you connect with nature, and to reconnect with your inner child. A gift from my heart to a new friend, to help connect her to her heart chakra. A token of appreciation for helping me communicate my emotions around my cancer scare, for the first time.

The call came on October 14th, while I sat in the dentist’s chair. My referral had been accepted.

I was now in the hands of Dr. G, a world renowned oncologist surgeon out of Princess Margaret Hospital. He is involved in thyroid cancer research, and a professor at University of Toronto. Dealing with his office was a totally different ball game than the oncologist I had first been referred to.

“Dr. G received your referral. Firstly, he is not happy with your pathology report. He is having it sent here so our team can review it. He wants your ultrasound redone at Princess Margaret, so I have scheduled that for November 12th. Then I have scheduled you to see the doctor on November 18th.”

My mind was buzzing. Why was he fitting me in so soon? Did he see something he was really concerned about? I felt uneasy about stepping foot in Princess Margaret. It felt ominous. My Mother had her radiation there when she had breast cancer. My Nan had radiation there less than a year ago, just before she died.

“Why is he seeing me so soon?” I blurted out.

“It is hard to triage someone when we don’t know the pathology of what they have.”

“So I shouldn’t see this as him being concerned enough to see me quickly?”

“No.”

“Is it possible to get both appointments on the same day?”

“I looked into that. You would have to wait until March.”

“Okay, November it is!”

“We have planned out the dates so we have your pathology in hand when you meet Dr.G. Between that and the ultrasound, we are trying to prevent a second biopsy.”

A few weeks later we set off to Toronto. Not a good drive on the best of days. What should take 40 minutes ended up being 1.5 hours.

While Princess Margaret Hospital is a world renowned cancer hospital, it is very unassuming from the outside. It barely even has signage. The inside isn’t much better. Outdated, and rundown in a few places. Nevertheless, I felt like I was in the best possible place. There was nowhere else where I would receive this level of care.

They run their testing 24 hours a day, so my ultrasound was at 7:15pm. Eerily empty except for cleaners, and those of us waiting on testing.

I was taken in promptly, and quickly realized my ultrasound process would be much different than the ones I had previously. It took longer, and felt much more thorough. Extra imaging, more positioning. I took note of how many images were being saved.

“When I finish here, I will step out and review the images. I will come back in and let you know whether we need more, or if you are free to go.”

In the end, she had enough images. I got dressed again as my nodule ached. It had received too much stimulation for one day. It was interesting how something I hadn’t even realized I had, just months ago, was now something I could feel, and see.

Waiting had been the theme of this process. I only needed to wait 6 more days for answers, or so I thought.

I initially approached my friend Megan, who I’ve known since high school, for guidance. Having been involved in the metaphysical world for a decade, she has offered advice to me about the journey I am on, which at times has been overwhelming.

I started to find myself interested in a service she provided called Akashic Records readings. Think of your akashic records as an archive of all of your past lives. The human experiences your soul has had, who you were, what your lives have been like, and the lessons you did, and didn’t learn.

The idea of past lives is taboo to some, which is interesting considering that to me, it is just a grander scale to what most are taught to believe. We live many lives here to grow and learn as souls. To become closer to the most enlightened. A school for our souls. We are meant to learn how to love in the most purest form, to be creative and passionate, and also have a strong connection with our inner self.

I was itching to know more. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I was curious, so I signed up for a session.

“I need your full, current legal name to start so I can open your records.”

“Amanda Doris Costa. Keep the Doris part on the down low, because most people don’t know it.”

“The first thing I heard when you said that was ‘It’s a family name, you should be proud of it’. Is it a family name?”

“Yes. It was my Nan’s name, her mother’s name, and my paternal grandmother’s name.”

My Nan had passed less than a year prior. If anyone was giving me shit over it, it was her.

“First off, your guides have come through. They are telling me you need to breathe.”

Was I holding my breath? Yup, I was.

“I can see that they present themselves to you as a blue light. They want me to acknowledge that you have been putting in the work and building your practice. Even if things get difficult, they want you to continue with what you are doing, and not give up.”

From that point on, we jumped into it. There were some very surprising things I discovered. I will give you the highlights.

“I miscarried between my girls. I would like to know if the baby I lost was a boy.”

When I was 19, a hand reader told me I would have 2 girls and a boy. When I miscarried, shortly after, my Nan started having dreams about my Mom holding a crying baby boy. Part of me always thought he was ours.

“Well this is interesting. Metaphorically, yes, that baby would have been a boy if that pregnancy had gone to term. The thing is though, the soul of that baby, is the same soul as your younger daughter.”

“What do you mean?”

“That soul wanted to be your child. They decided to wait until you conceived again, and came through then. What I am seeing is that when you lost that pregnancy, it was because you were in a very bad mental state, and carrying that baby would have been detrimental to your health.”

I had miscarried 6 weeks before my Mom died of cancer. It was the worst time of my life. It was hard having a child you know a loved one is leaving behind. It was also hard having a child since her passing, but there is something particularly cruel about the thought of having been pregnant when she passed.

I have had this further validated. I was told that when we miscarry, or experience pregnancy loss at any stage, that soul sits in the mother’s heart until she conceives again. There was something so comforting to me about the idea that the loss I felt, was not really a loss, but a delay. I wondered how many women would feel peace from thinking of their situations that way.

The other surprising part of my reading, is something I am still coming to terms with. When I was absent during my meditations, I had asked my spirit guides where I was going. It was confirmed that I was visiting them, my guardian angel, and someone else in the spirit realm. I had asked if that someone else was my Mom, or my Nan, and the answer was no. I was perplexed.

I brought this up during my akashic reading.

“I am seeing a white entity. Masculine energy. Did you lose anyone significant during your teens?”

My mind immediately went to someone familial.

“Well my great grandfather passed when I was 12. I didn’t lose anyone else until my 20s.”

Megan waited through my pregnant pause. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Mike.”

It came out almost like a whisper.

Mike, the troubled boy I’d befriended in grade 7. Briefly a boyfriend, before our relationship evolved into a very intense friendship. He was the reason my parents got me my own phone line. I simply couldn’t keep tying up the phone every night for hours while him and I spoke.

“I can see you guys were young but it was a more mature kind of relationship.”

“He was a kid with adult problems. He carried on to make others laugh. They were laughing at him, not with him. I saw through that, and I knew something was wrong.”

“That is who you are visiting.”

“Okay, but why?”

“Because he is your soulmate. You’ve been in each of each other’s lives to some capacity.”

The last time I saw Mike was in grade 9, at a house party. It was awkward. We hadn’t seen each other in months, and he was there with a guy who went to his high school, that clearly wasn’t liked. We stared from across the room, burning holes into each other. Eventually him and his friend got kicked out. I reached out to him the next day, feeling immature for not speaking to him. It was then he told me that his family was moving to New Hampshire. We promised to keep in touch, but we didn’t.

In grade 11, I got the news that he had taken his own life. It took the wind of me. I was consumed by guilt. I thought maybe if I had stayed in touch with him, I could have helped him. I wanted to attend his funeral, but my parents decided against it. I dreamed of him, in a way that felt like a visit. A dream with words spoken, that vanished when I awoke, my hand on my cheek where his had been. I wrote stories about him. He still crosses my mind near his birthday, and near the day he died.

“I am seeing that he wasn’t near you during the time of his passing because it would have been detrimental to your health. You were going through something that mental, and physically made you fragile at that time. I am seeing it was food related.”

“I was recovering from an eating disorder. My doctor had scared me into eating again because I kept getting strep throat that wasn’t going away. ‘If you don’t start eating, this could turn into strep A, which affects your heart, and you could die’.”

Again, I’ve had this info validated during a second reading. I was told that Mike and I have been everything from lovers, to mother and son, and father and daughter. It has changed my perspective on the term ‘soulmate’. I always thought of that as a romantic relationship, when it turns out to be all types of love.

I hope to delve into this a bit more. I also discovered my oldest daughter has been my child before, and that my husband and I have been married once, and were also friends in a past life.

It is all very fascinating. The connections we make, the depth of which we don’t fully understand. All of this is a journey towards our soul’s progression. The human experience. It has been a wildly eye opening time. One that I was very much not expecting, and one that I am still exploring, and processing.

Hiking trips over the Thanksgiving weekend had become my oldest daughter and I’s tradition.

This year I had chosen the Midland area, and extended the trip by a day. We had rented a cute Airbnb within walking distance of the old downtown area. It was central to cute shops, and restaurants, and about 25 minutes from each of the trail areas we had decided on.

I brought some of my crystals up with me so that I could continue my daily meditation practice. While I am capable of meditating without them, my preference is to include them. I had also researched a couple local metaphysical shops to visit in the area as well.

I was also keeping up with my grounding, though I’m sure the neighbours were curious about the girl in her pajamas, standing barefoot on the lawn at 7am each morning.

Our first hiking day was spent at the Georgian Bay Islands National Park. This happens to be the smallest park in Canada. It requires taking a ferry, and choosing between the 2 sides of the island. The Beausoleil side of the island is much more rugged, and considered to be better for hiking, so we chose that.

The island is entirely Canadian Shield, and hiking that was a first for me. It was intense, and slippery. We spent 4 hours on the island, exploring its many lookout points, and taking in nature.

Being in nature has become so calming for me, a reset of sorts. My reiki practitioner had mentioned seeing this trip, which I had booked back in July, and how it would be good for me.

I snuck in a little beach side meditation while my girl ate some snacks, and just enjoyed the slower pace of my day. Surrounded by trees and water, in an element I’ve come to enjoy much more than being around people.

After we took the ferry back to our car, we decided to head into town to a little crystal shop called Tiny Gems. I highly recommend it if you ever visit the Midland area. They had all kinds of tumbles, palms and raw pieces, most notably, amethyst from a mine owned by the shop.

The second day we were heading off to Awenda Provincial Park, an area with over 30 km of trails situated in and around Lake Huron.

We did a combination of the Bluff and Wendat trails, which were around 14km, and took us around 3 hours to complete.

The Bluff trail, in particular, is considered a hard trail, and so we mostly had that to ourselves. Personally, I would rate it moderate.

After our long day of hiking, we ventured back into town for some antiquing at an old library turned vintage store, called Olde Town Library. Such a unique spot, filled with all kinds of knickknacks, and a cafe in the back that looks straight out of the 1920s.

Our last stop was a local Mexican restaurant called Zanca. The only thing I enjoy more than being in nature, is good food. Very authentic, really fresh, and their assortment of made in-house hot sauces were deadly.

Overall, the weekend was a success. Plenty of time in the great outdoors, some window shopping, all capped off by eating Haagen-Dasz bars in bed while watching Letterkenny.

I was rediscovering how to balance my time between work and play, and the added perk was the quality time I had gotten with each of my girls by doing this solo trips with them. I left Midland with gratitude in my heart, and fresh air in my lungs.

I was in a pendulum session one day when I pulled a card that made my breath catch in my throat. A health card.

I didn’t understand. I had been doing all the things. I’d had taken the tests, and I was trying to balance my work and home life better. I had been actively putting my emotional, and mental health first, while trying to sort out my physical ailments. I was perplexed by this draw.

“Do I have something else going on with my health?”

The pendulum circled clockwise.

“Yes. Thank you.”

I pondered for a moment before I was nudged.

“Do I have an auto-immune disease?”

Yes.

I wracked my brain for the autoimmune diseases I knew off-hand. I already have hypothyroidism, and years ago I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia.

“Do I have rheumatoid arthritis?”

The pendulum circled counterclockwise.

“No. Thank you.”

“Do I have lupus?”

No.

I couldn’t think of anything else so I ended the session, as I always do.

“Thank you for your time.”

The next morning I started researching. I had some odd things happen over the past few years, and I remember my sister saying the thought there was more to it than met the eye.

I stumbled upon an autoimmune disease that felt like a smack across the face. As I scanned the symptoms, I realized I was the poster child for it.

Chronic eye infections, check. I was getting them monthly at one point.

Salivary gland issues, check. My right one had been swollen, and partially blocked for almost 2 years now.

Dry mouth, check. The newest symptom, and the most annoying. It mostly affected my right side of my mouth.

Joint pain, check. My knees in particular.

Linked to hypothyroidism. Well, I’d been blessed with that almost 14 years ago.

Hell, it even explained the chronic dryness in my right fingertips. Something that started when I had Covid back in 2022. It started with my favourite finger, the middle one, and slowly spread to 3 others. The dermatologist hadn’t been able to figure that one out.

The autoimmune disease is called Sjögren’s pronounced SHOW-grens. It was discovered in 1933, by Swedish ophthalmologist Henrik Sjögren, who noticed some people with chronic eye dryness had a common set of other symptoms.

Essentially it is a dehydration disease. It causes chronic dryness through various systems. That also explained blood results I had that signalled that I was dehydrated. The only real treatment plan is treating each individual symptom, and research has found that following a strict immune protocol diet can be beneficial as well.

I am currently in the diagnostic process for this. It turns out it can quite difficult, and time consuming to get a firm diagnosis for this disease. It often takes 3-10 years from initial symptoms to see positive blood markers, if at all.

In the meantime, I have started removing certain foods from my diet to see if that helps improve some things. It is similar to paleo, but is also grain and dairy free.

I am still wrapping my mind around how I came to know this information. It certainly wasn’t something I ever expected to experience. That being said, this past week I pulled a card that proves that while my guides are wise, they also have a sense of humour.

After the success I had finding a reiki practitioner through a referral on Facebook, I went back to find some meditation classes.

I received a reply from S, who runs a small yoga studio out of her home. I would describe her as a hippy, earthy type from England. She told me she had an autumn equinox meditation and sound bath event on the beach that she thought I may be interested in. It sounded lovely, and then she told me the date—September 25th. That was intriguing. That just happened to be the day I was supposed to see my oncologist. It sounded like a lovely coincidence, and a nice way to cap off a day that might be stressful.

A few days later, she messaged me again. This time she told me that she was also hosting a half day retreat in October focused on the throat chakra.

“Okay, what is happening?!” I said to my husband.

“First she has an event on the day of my oncology appointment, and now a throat chakra retreat?! That is literally what set me on this path.”

“You should go.”

“I don’t see how I can’t. I am starting to think this woman has been put in my path for a reason.”

So I signed up for both.

September 25th had finally arrived. My husband and I set off for my appointment. Half way to the destination, my phone rang. If you know me, you know I never answer my phone. My ringer is always on silent. I watched it ring, and then checked my voicemail afterwards, like a true geriatric millennial. It was then that I discovered that the day before my oncologist’s office had called to cancel my appointment.

“Hi there, this message is for Amanda. We have to cancel your appointment for tomorrow at 1pm. Please call and let us know you have received this message. We will call next week to reschedule.”

“What the fuck?!”

At first my husband was annoyed with me. I hadn’t checked my phone. I never answer it. We had both taken the day off for this. We ended up pivoting fast though. We veered off the highway, and went to buy plants for our fall planters.

I called back when I got home and may have been a bit passive aggressive since I was still annoyed. Annoyed that I couldn’t call back until I located their extension code. Annoyed that I had received a phone call, email and letter in the mail for this appointment, just for it to ultimately be cancelled. Annoyed that I would have had to pay them $50 if I had cancelled less than 24 hours before, but there were no ramifications for them. Lastly, I was annoyed to still not have any answers.

I did still have my beach meditation to look forward to. The weather was iffy that day, and it was decided 2 hours before that it would still be held on the beach.

45 minutes before I received an urgent message. The meditation event was being rescheduled due to an accident on the highway. It was showing as an hour drive from my house to the beach, when it should have only taken 17 minutes.

“What is going on today? Everything I was either anticipating, or looking forward to, has been cancelled.”

“I know, babe. It just is what it is. You will have to wait and see when they both get rescheduled for.”

The beach meditation got rescheduled first, for the following week. It ended up not being held on the beach due to a schedule conflict for the spot. I ended up going to that beach myself, that day, and meditating for some time.

As I headed over to S’s house, the new location for the event, I couldn’t help but wonder why she was crossing my path. When I arrived I met the woman who ran the sound bath portion, L, and another lady who would be joining us. It turned out it would just be the 2 of us participating since 6 others were unable to make the new date.

It was the most magical sound bath I had experienced. It almost felt like a private night, just for me. Under the stars on S’s deck, set amongst big, beautiful trees. We were tucked in with blankets sprinkled with essential oils, we were repositioned with bolsters, and it was just dreamy.

At one point, I felt S kneel behind me.

“It’s just my hands,” she whispered.

She gave me what felt like a scalp massage. There was something a little emotional about it for me. It felt motherly. A feeling I hadn’t had in the almost 14 years I had been without one.

I felt something shift in me slightly that night. A willingness to be more open. A tentative thought about maybe letting some people in, and not being afraid of disappointment. The last few years had been riddled with new friendships that were highly dramatic, and painful. So when S & L went to hug me after the sound bath concluded, and prefixed it with “We are huggers around here”, I hugged them back.

A few days later, I still hadn’t heard back from the oncologist’s office with a new appointment date. One of my occasional regulars, R came in that morning. R is a fierce old bird. In her 80’s, and a total no nonsense type. Months prior she had booked in with me by chance. Her usual RMT is a colleague of mine, but that particular day, she was in pain, and waitlisted herself for any of us. I had a cancellation, and gave her some relief, so she began seeing me. During that time, she told me about her thyroid cancer. She knew I had a nodule that led to an oncology appointment being booked.

“So how was your appointment?”

“It didn’t happen. He cancelled on me the day before.”

“You’re kidding! Listen Amanda, take down the name of my oncologist. He is world renowned, and he works out of Princess Margaret. He is the best of the best, and if he thinks he can help you, he will.”

I took what she said to heart, and I called my endocrinologist’s office after work and asked for the referral to be sent.

The next day they called me back to let me know the previous oncologist had called them with a rescheduling date—-October 23rd. My mother’s birthday. She would have been 70. I wasn’t sure if that was a sign, but I decided to wait and see if I heard from the other oncologist before making a decision. Once again, all I could do was wait.

I had noticed a shift in my meditations. I was not experiencing as many visuals as before. I would have my guides come through at the beginning of each session, maybe see some lights or shapes, but that would be all that I would remember.

I had a few significant sessions early on. One involved my mother coming through, and the other was an inner child encounter. Seeing visuals, or having encounters felt constructive. Being in darkness, or even worse, remembering nothing at all, seemed like a step in the wrong direction.

I may have not been retaining anything, but I wasn’t unconscious. I was somewhere inbetween consciousness and unconsciousness. Unfortunately for me, my desire to have control, mixed with curiosity, had me fighting to be present. I could have been in the spirit realm learning all the lessons, healing emotional wounds, but I still had to know. I simply couldn’t trust the process.

During my next meditation, I asked to remain present. I asked to retain what was happening during my session, and boy did I get what I asked for. I had a very vivid, dreamlike meditation. It was about a young boy who got separated from his parents during a street festival. He waits, and waits for them to return and then it starts to rain, as the sun goes down. No one ever showed up. It was unsettling, it had me thinking about childhood memories that just made me uncomfortable.

Later that morning I sent a voice note to my friend Megan while I walked my dog. She has been involved in the metaphysical world for 10 years. It is important to have people you can speak openly with when you start your spiritual awakening.

In my voice note I talked about my meditation and how it was unlike anything that had ever happened to me before. I had begun to question whether or not I had fallen asleep. All of my crystals had remained in place. Had I gotten what I had asked for, or had I simply fallen back to sleep?

As soon as I fired off the voice note, questioning my experience, I heard a rustling in the trees above me. I looked up just in time to see a crab apple coming directly at my face. It narrowly missed me and rolled along the wood chip trail, before coming to a haul. The timing was incredible. Questioning the process, yet again, with my silly, overly analytical brain.

I went to take a picture of the apple and fire off another voice note to Megan telling her how funny the timing of it all was. As I went to send her the picture, I noticed something.

In the bottom left corner was a leaf shaped like a heart. I sent the photo to my husband and asked him what he saw.

“I see a heart.”

“Me too!”

“What does that mean to you?”

“I think it was my guides way of saying “wake up!” You got what you asked for, and we come from a place of love.”

Launching an apple at my head was a bit much, but I had found it amusing. So much energy in my life had been devoted to questioning instead of just accepting and receiving.

That night I tried out a meditation class. I wasn’t sure what to expect since I found most metaphysical classes have very vague, and fluffy descriptions.

There were 4 of us in the class, and one instructor. The instructor proceeded to tell us that the class was divinely lead. Beforehand she would channel and certain archangels would come through. We spent the first half of the class discussing the angels that had come through, their characteristics, and what you could call on them for.

I didn’t really feel as though the class was for me. There was a man in the class that was rather overwhelming, with an air of being judgmental. I found myself annoyed with his constant interjections, and that simply wasn’t the mindset I was looking for.

We passed around a bowl with some strips of paper on them. Each piece of paper had a word on it that we were meant to use to describe our current place in our journey. The other three went before me. After they were done, the instructor would say which archangel she saw standing behind them. Each angel had been one that had come through that evening.

When it was my turn, I pulled the word ‘delight’.

“While I wouldn’t say this is a word I tend to use, I have found myself pleasantly surprised during this new journey I am on. It started with some health related issues, that are still ongoing, but mediation has really helped changed my mindset.”

“Well Amanda, the archangel I see behind you is Archangel Raphael. He’s the angel of health.”

My inner skeptic came roaring out. I found myself thinking ‘Oh come off it lady! I finish saying I have health related issues and the archangel of health just conveniently happens to be standing behind me.‘ He hadn’t even been an angel we had discussed that night.

At that point, I was ready to go home. I had been on a search for a great meditation class, and this just wasn’t it for me. We did our guided meditation, and then class was over.

“Before you leave, you are welcome to take an oracle card.”

On the floor, on a mat, were 6 oracle cards in each corner.

To my right had been a card I had noticed throughout the night. It was slightly overlapping another. I went up to it and took it. When I flipped it over, my breath caught in my throat.

“What the hell is happening”, I whispered.

“What card did you draw, Amanda?”

I showed her.

“Oh wow! You know, he wasn’t even one of the archangels that came through when I was channeling, and yet he was here.”

The next morning, I was telling my oldest daughter the story. Right as I finished, I went to grab my coffee. We have a fancy machine with the milk foam, and when I went to pick it up, something caught my eye.

A heart was indented in the foam.

“Oh Mom, Raphael loves you.”

“Ya Mom, he wants to marry you, because he loooooves you.”

My youngest daughter is quite the character.

“Trust me when I say this isn’t where the angel comes down to earth and impregnates a human. I’ve read books like that, and this isn’t it.”

All joking aside, I was receiving signs and messages that I just couldn’t brush off as being a coincidence. My brain wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information. All I knew is I was strapped into this rollercoaster seat, and I had no clue where it would take me next.

I dove head first into all things metaphysical. My crystal collection was growing at an exponential rate, I was signing up for classes, and courses. I was soaking up all the knowledge, all while building my meditation practice.

Crystals had been my first love. What started with a single lapis lazuli, became having crystals to place on each chakra. I was drawn to palm crystals, in particular, and found myself continually adding to my collection. I would be drawn in by their beauty, but ultimately, it was their properties that intrigued me most.

My most interesting encounter happened by chance. My husband had asked me to look into whether Akasha’s Den had a few particular crystals when I went in next.

I didn’t see them put on the floor so I went to the front desk to ask. Jess, who works there full time, had started to become a familiar face.

“My husband asked me if you guys carry a couple of crystals. Do you have something called moldavite?”

“Oh yeah we have moldavite.”

Between the tone in her voice, and the tinkle in her eyes, I was intrigued.

“The problem with moldavite is that TikTok caught wind of it during Covid. It caused the prices to go up and the supply to go down because everyone wanted to get their hands on it. So it is under lock and key.”

“I don’t know much about it, but I’ve heard it disappears on people.”

“Yes, it is a flighty stone. Mine disappeared on me for a while and then randomly showed up one day. It tends to disappear if you aren’t meant to be using it at that time. It is the stone of change and transformation. It helps remove the things that are no longer serving you.”

She brought me to the cabinet to see it. It was very unassuming crystal. It is a dark, almost charcoal colour until you hold it up to the light. Then you see the sea glass green shade it has. It was formed from a meteorite that hit our planet approximately 14.8 million years ago, in what would now be considered the Czech Republic. In other words, it’s not from here.

“Do you want to hold a piece?”

“Sure, why not.”

She placed it in my left hand. She started talking to me, but I quickly realized I was struggling to pay attention.

“Umm, my hand started tingling and it is moving up my arm to my elbow.”

“That’s moldavite for you. They call that the moldavite flush.”

Her lips were moving in front of my face but I just couldn’t seem to focus on what she was saying.

“Okay, now I have the most contradictory feeling. My feet feel grounded in cement blocks, but I also want to run. I’m torn between wanting to give this back, and never letting it go.”

It was such an intense feeling. In fact, I felt it every time I walked past that cabinet from then on. My husband ended up buying a piece for me, and it has been wild to work with. I’ve never responded to another crystal like that.

After that experience, I signed up for a crystal course at Akasha’s Den. I took that class back in September.

The class focused on the main shapes of crystals, which chakras they work with, cleansing, and how to set intentions. Crystals are just pretty things to look at if you don’t set an intention, or give them something to do. Of course, that is fine if you simply wish to have them for their beauty. I have both statement pieces, and a large collection that I work with.

As my crystal knowledge grew, so did my desire to communicate with my guides. I was already calling upon them multiple times a day to clear my clients, and myself, but I wanted to learn more.

I bought myself an amethyst pendulum, and tentatively tried it. I started by cleansing it on my selenite plate, and setting an intention for it. My intention was for clarity and communication with my guides and the spirit realm.

I should also mention that it is important to ground and protect yourself before each session. I use crystals, and an opening statement to do this. You don’t want to invite any negative energy into your place, unless you enjoy the ouija board scenes in horror films.

Our guides are an extension of our higher self, the part of us that is still present in the spirit realm. Think of them as the ones aware of the master plan. Our lives are mapped out before we are born. Yes, we have free will, but nothing major that happens is a coincidence. We are here living the human experience. We are here to learn, and to grow as souls. Each life we live is to aid in that growth. Our guides have our best intentions in mind, and will nudge us in the right direction to continue our spiritual growth. My newfound relationship with them has been very comforting. I come to them with questions about my past, my present, and my future. I’ve asked about everything from my health, to whether or not they want me to pull cards from my oracle deck.

It starts as a positive intention, a curiosity. Learning how your pendulum responds. For me, I receive a clockwise turn for a yes, and a counter clockwise turn for a no. From there, the possibilities are endless. All you need is faith.

My reiki practitioner had told me to carve out some time for fun, so I did. Over the Labour Day weekend, I had decided to take my youngest daughter to Elora for a few nights.

I had been to Elora once before, for my husband’s 40th, and had fallen in love with its small town charm.

I booked us into a log cabin loft Airbnb, right in the heart of the downtown core. The location was incredible. Steps away from all the shops, with a separate entrance that allowed us to come and go from the main streets with ease. Below us was a cafe, which was the most convenient. We would head down in our pajamas each morning, order breakfast sandwiches, and head back to our space to eat.

It was the relaxing break that I needed. We didn’t stick to a schedule, we went for walks through the trails, ate good food, and snuck in a few naps.

It was also my first time bringing my crystals with me with the intent of meditating outside of my home. That likely doesn’t seem like a big deal, but I am a creature of habit, and I was unsure how it would go. Would I be able to concentrate?

Being away with a preteen meant I was up first. I took the extra comforter and laid it out in the living room. It turns out I had one my best meditations in that space. I’m not sure if it was the setting, or the lack of strict schedule, but I saw orbs and colours for most of my session.

I’ve since come to learn that the colours, shapes and images I see are known as clairvoyance. Not to be mistaken with psychics, which are also clairvoyant, but in a different, stronger sense than I am.

I’ve also come to find that many people chase the visuals that come from meditation. They associate the optics with being good at meditation. It is similar to how people chase the constant entertainment of their social media feeds. The trouble with this is that progression in meditation isn’t exciting. It is often settling into the quiet. The nothingness. The first time it happened to me I thought I was broken. In actuality, I was advancing.

I was also keeping up with my grounding. We had a sweet little garden space, steps from the crowds that had come in droves. It was a quiet little spot first thing in the morning.

Oddly enough, Elora seemed to have an underlying metaphysical element. At least 4 stores we went into, ranging from home decor to stationary and jewelry, had either bins of crystals, or sage bundles and Palo Santo sticks. I was intrigued. I inquired about the reasoning behind it, and one man told me:

“I grew up in Elora. Aside from most of the people being really cool with artsy chill vibes, all the old buildings are haunted as fuck.”

Well that explains it.

I also noticed a strong connection to the indigenous community. Often you can find the metaphysical, and indigenous ways, overlap. A strong sense of spirituality, love of the Earth, and all of its elements. In fact, we even had a small Indigenous shop located across the street from us called Ancient Ways. We popped over and bought a clear quartz palm for my oldest daughter, that had been etched on by a local tribe member. For the sake of recognition, Elora is located on the treaty lands of the Anishinaabe and Haudenosaunee peoples.

One of the highlights of our trip was an unexpected one. The day we arrived, a young guy was out singing on the corner. My daughter asked me if he was going to stop playing the same song over and over. I had zoned him out as we put our belongings away, but it was then that I noticed he had been playing the Frays “How to Save a Life”, on repeat. Maybe he figured that with the constant flow of traffic, no one would notice. What he hadn’t considered, was the 2 people in the loft above the him, would be privy to his entire one song show. Eventually he stopped, which I assumed was because someone had tossed his ass in the river.

The next morning, an Indigenous man, adorned in purple velvet, with a matching hat, and dreamcatcher necklace on, set up on the corner. He had a set list as his feet, and feathers in his hat. A harmonica, and a guitar were his instruments of choice. He was amazing. I sat on our balcony and listened to him play. His day was long, and his voice was good. He sang through Neil Young, Fleetwood Mac, and the Beatles hits. He even played some old Tom Petty, before he was with the Heartbreakers.

I left Elora feeling rested, and with the lightest heart I had in some time.