Sanctuary of Reflection and Inner Stillness

I love my quiet sanctuary by the creek—a place where stillness invites reflection. As the sun rises, I settle into the sounds of birdsong and the gentle rustling of leaves beneath squirrels at play. My gaze always finds its way to the sunlight shimmering across the water. Sometimes it beams directly into my face, casting radiant hues—magenta and marine blue—that seem to open portals into unseen worlds.

Rather than seeking meaning in these visions, I let them unfold, appreciating the simple beauty of color and light. These early mornings, still cool before summer settles in, offer a sense of calm and quiet inspiration. I watch the new buds emerge on the trees, the water flowing with steady purpose. In that rhythm, I feel mirrored—nudged into contemplation.

Where am I in my own journey? What season am I moving through? Nature reminds me to embrace both movement and stillness, to honor the evolution that comes with joy, sorrow, laughter, and everything in between.

Many healers offer what they once longed for—a place to feel safe, supported, and free to simply be. As I reflect on my own path into sound healing, I see how intimately it was tied to my experiences with PTSD and early childhood trauma. Sound became a language that spoke to parts of me beyond words—a lifeline, a balm, a guide.

Over time, and with the help of teachers, training, and personal exploration, my relationship with sound has evolved into a practice I now share with others. A core element of that work is calming the nervous system—an essential step in healing the body, mind, and spirit. When the vagus nerve is soothed, when the body feels safe, it begins to open, to trust, to repair.

Sound is one of the most powerful tools I’ve found for creating that space of inner safety. And from that space, transformation begins.