Some weeks hold so much heaviness that the world feels surreal. This has been one of those weeks. As I’ve sat with grief, anger, and disbelief, I’ve been reflecting deeply on what it means to be human, how much pain we carry collectively, and how urgently we need spaces to feel and process what’s happening in our world. What follows are my raw reflections—both personal and universal—on this moment and on the power of our emotions to guide us back to our humanity.
This has been a hard week to be American.
I’ve lived in Colorado since the late ’90s, with a few years in the Bay Area and Austin, Texas. Over the decades, I’ve watched my home state endure mass violence—Columbine, the Aurora theater shooting, the Q Club in Colorado Springs, King Soopers in Boulder, and an attack on Pearl Street this summer. Also, my father painted many homes in Sandy Hook, so when tragedy struck there, it felt as personal as the ones here.
This week brought another wave of pain: a school shooting in Evergreen, two bomb threats at the University of Colorado, and the assassination of another public figure.
I was enraged. I had to use every tool I knew to calm my amygdala, to find words at all. The mama bear in me doesn’t want to send my daughter to school anymore. It feels impossible to reconcile that we live in a country where gun violence continues to devastate families, yet meaningful change remains out of reach.
It took days of breathing, writing, crying, walking outside, and reaching out for support to calm the storm inside me. I’ve had to learn to be with my emotions, even when they feel unbearable. That didn’t come naturally; emotional responsibility is a skill I’ve had to cultivate. And I believe if more of us understood the power and purpose of our emotions, there would be far less violence and hatred in the world.
The Deeper Thread of Humanity
My father used to ask what I would do with a degree in Humanities. I didn’t have an answer at 20. Now, at 50, I do.
Humanities is the study of who we are—our cultures, histories, beliefs, and stories expressed through art, religion, politics, psychology, literature, and philosophy. It’s a discipline that asks us to hold multiple truths, to question our perspectives, and to develop the skill of critical thinking. That skill has been invaluable as I’ve watched our world grow increasingly divided.
What I’ve learned through both my formal studies and decades as an intuitive healer is this: much of our pain and conflict stems from an inability to feel emotions. Throughout history, power and control have often been built on this suppression—leaders, systems, and institutions have thrived on avoiding vulnerability, denying emotional truth, and projecting pain onto others.
When we disconnect from our emotions, we disconnect from empathy. We act out, numb, manipulate, shame, or even harm others because we cannot bear to sit with what we feel. Violence, hatred, and oppression are all manifestations of a fear of feeling. Spiritual doctrine becomes tainted by the influence of what would help someone feel safe with their feelings.
Healing the Subconscious and Collective Wounds
In energy healing, we explore the subconscious—the shadow parts of ourselves that hold pain, fear, and sometimes hidden gifts. This isn’t just personal; it’s collective and intergenerational. Our bodies carry the imprint of our ancestors’ experiences and the systems we were born into.
The root chakra, located at the base of the spine, holds much of this systemic and ancestral energy. It stores fears about safety, belonging, and survival. When these fears remain unacknowledged, they shape how we live and interact, often unconsciously. Healing means becoming conscious of what has been buried—so we can release, integrate, and reclaim our power.
This work is deeply spiritual. It’s not separate from politics or social realities because our inner world is a reflection of the collective world we live in. Clearing energy, healing trauma, and reconnecting to our emotions is not just self-care; it’s a radical act of humanity.
The Thread That Connects Us
Spiritual teachings from cultures across the globe agree on one thing: we are more than our individual selves. We are threads in a larger tapestry, connected to a higher consciousness. That consciousness calls us to remember our humanity, to face our shadow, and to become a force of healing in a fractured world.
This week has been devastating, and it has reminded me of why this work matters. We need to create spaces where we can feel, grieve, and be vulnerable without fear of attack or judgment. Healing begins when we stop running from our feelings and start honoring them as guides.
If we want a safer, more compassionate world, we have to begin with ourselves. Feeling our emotions—not just analyzing them, not just bypassing them spiritually, but truly allowing them—might be one of the most courageous acts we can take. Because when we feel, we connect. And connection is what makes us human.
As a step further, I wanted to share how I worked with the anger I was feeling—by listening to its wisdom and uncovering the pain beneath it. Anger is often misunderstood, rarely seen as a valid human emotion with value, or something we’re taught to process. What came out wasn’t a “how-to” guide but a poem—an experiential glimpse into my own process. My hope is that it offers a way for you to connect with your own emotions and see how moving through anger can lead to deeper understanding.
I Processed the Anger by Listening to Its Hurt
I met fury inside myself this week.
Anger from being fed up, grief from wanting peace, disbelief at the actions of others.
It burned in my chest and split my mind in two
as I tried to comprehend—not just both sides,
but all sides.
The far right hates the right now?
The right hates the left, and the left hates the far left?
I can’t keep it straight,
but they all have access to guns.
I’ve lived in Colorado through Columbine, Aurora, Colorado Springs, Boulder,
and Boulder again.
Now Evergreen.
And this week I was evacuated from class at CU Boulder
for a bomb threat that turned out to be false.
And I’m supposed to send my child to school?
The rage wants me to flee,
to scream,
to lose my center.
So I call my senators instead.
As a healer, I know what to do with rage—
not harm others,
not with words or violence of any kind.
Not bypass it,
not let spiritual ideology take me away from this important moment.
I move toward it,
and let it tell me why it’s angry.
It’s angry because it wants to believe we can all get along
But doesn’t have evidence of that.
It’s angry because people choose to hurt, project, blame,
deflect, victimize, ignore, invalidate,
and even kill others
instead of feeling their feelings.
It’s angry because of the injustice of not feeling safe
or a sense of belonging continues, painfully, for much of our population.
It tells me it’s angry at the online world,
at leaders dividing us
instead of uniting us,
and at those afraid of the word: empathy.
It tells me we’re good—that we’ll keep trying every day
to be better human beings.
I let it tell me its story.
I wrote and wrote its story
until I reached the grief beneath it.
And I breathed.
Then I crashed.
I fell asleep.
When I woke up,
my mind was clear again.
No one was harmed.
My amygdala was calm.
And I felt compassion for myself
and for others
in a world that believes we are divisible.
My anger isn’t wrong or bad.
It’s a human emotion
that swells when something isn’t right.
It still says: gun laws must change.
So I, along with my anger,
will keep making calls,
keep advocating where I can.
Keep trusting my heart knows the way
And keep listening to the words underneath its swell.
Because the love underneath
believes peace is possible.
If you’d like ongoing support, I’d love to welcome you to The Sanctuary—my monthly membership for live healing and heartfelt community connection. On the first Wednesday of every month, I guide a Divine Guidance Healing session to help you clear, center, and restore your energy. Recordings are always available if you can’t attend live. Join The Sanctuary here.
