"I am the one thing that all these threads weave into.And yet, the “one thing” isn’t me—not exactly. It’s me, plus everything else."

Hello from my underwater world of shifting currents and creative flow.

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Beloved Dolphin:

As the year tilts toward its close and we prepare for the season of light, I wanted to take a moment to thank you—my Becoming Real community. Your kind notes, thoughtful emails, and steadfast interest in my work have been a source of deep comfort and encouragement in these months of recovery and rediscovery following my stroke.

I find myself in a time of profound experimentation. Pulled toward expansion, and, at the same time, I am allowing myself to drift. I float, carried by the currents, all the way to the edge of what I once believed was possible. There, instead of limits—or the total dissolution I once feared—I discover invitation. To widen yet again.

It’s as if the ocean itself is showing me my shape—wider than I imagined and, paradoxically, less deep than I assumed. Each thread of who I am is speaking now, distinct and vibrant, and I’m learning not to force them into a singular narrative. They don’t need it. They already know they’re one.

I am the one thing that all these threads weave into.
And yet, the “one thing” isn’t me—not exactly. It’s me, plus everything else.

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The Wall in the Wilderness

Last month, I walked with my daughter through the West Point Foundry Preserve. We wandered past crumbling factory ruins overtaken by vines, a replica water wheel spinning softly in a stream, and moss-covered ravines where “a mighty brook” once flowed. At one point, we came upon a wall standing alone in the wilderness. Its bricks were crumbling, but two doors and a window still held their form.

The wall was strange and unexpected, just standing there—a remnant of something long gone. It struck me as a portal - the kind of image that often arises in my teaching. A door in the middle of nowhere, waiting to be stepped through.

On this day, though, I didn’t step through. I photographed the wall instead, imagining how I might use it in a workbook or a lesson. Weeks later, the wall lingers still in my thoughts.

What was this wall doing there? How did it reflect what I needed to encounter that day? Was it a boundary or a threshold? A barrier or an invitation?

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Walking the Loop

The walk itself was a challenge (and I’ll say more in my next post about all that it opened for me.) There was the physical challenge as my breath grew labored on the flat trail—a reminder of the stroke’s lingering effects. And the psychological as my mind started calculating: How far can I go before I’ll need to turn back? Beneath the math, fear stirred—of being a burden, of embarrassing myself, of needing someone to save me. But as we continued and I became fascinated by the ruins, I forgot to calculate the loop. I forgot to worry about my frailty. I let myself be carried by curiosity.

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Stepping Through

As the image of that wall in the wilderness stays with me, its broken bricks, the way the vines climbed over and through the crumbling man-made structure feel like an invitation—to inquiry, to contemplation—but also to action. To stop calculating and step through. To stop worrying and show up on the other side of the walls I’ve struggled with for too long.

In a way, stepping through that wall feels like stepping into the Soul Caller Sanctuary—a place where all the threads of my work come together, where boundaries dissolve into spaciousness. It’s a call to move beyond fear into curiosity, to trust the unfolding journey.

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The Soul Caller Sanctuary: A New (old) Name, A New Chapter

As I experiment, I’m re-imagining, reorganizing and renaming — you may have noticed the School of Magic is changing. I've renamed it the Soul Caller Sanctuary. If you’ve been with me awhile, you’ll know that this is a name that I return to - again and again. It’s the most true to the roots of this work. Most true to what happens in our tent at the top of the hill.

The name change feels like coming home. At the same time, it’s a new beginning - the next chapter of an extraordinary journey of 14 years that keeps unfolding and opening around the spacious, sacred center where all the threads of my work converge, breathe together, and flourish.

Soon, I will reopen my programs - the Workshops, the New Moon calls, the Imaginal Journey. I’ll invite you to join me in our sanctuary at the top of the hill—a sacred space that is just as much yours as it is mine. I can’t wait to meet you there.

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Prompts for Flow Journaling

There is no right way to do this exercise. Play. Dream. Float. Allow yourself to drift into that slightly altered state where imaginal doors open, and even walls dissolve.

The Ocean

• Begin in the vastness. Imagine you are swimming underwater in a boundless sea. You are a dolphin, a mermaid, a slash of moonlight—something both you and not you. How does it feel to move through the water as this other self? Describe the experience in vivid detail.

• Surface. Lie back and float on the waves. Feel their gentle support rocking you up and down. Let yourself be held by this deep, rhythmic body. How does it feel to trust the sea to hold you?

• Imagine the tides could carry you effortlessly. Where do they take you? What do you discover there?

The Edge

• Stand at the ocean’s edge, where water meets land. What wisdom shapes this line between ocean and earth? What does this wisdom know—about the ocean, about the land, about the world?

• Now, imagine the edge between you and everything else. What does this edge know about who you are? What does it know about everything you are not?

• Consider the boundaries you are navigating in your life. Which boundaries protect you? Which hold you back?

The Wall

• Picture yourself standing before a wall in the wilderness. Take your time walking around it. What do you see? What is the wall made of? Is there a door or a window?

• If this wall were a metaphor for your life, what would it be inviting you to do? What might it feel like to step through the door, climb over the wall, or peer through the window?

• What do you sense is there, on the other side, waiting to offer itself to you?

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Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Unsplash

A Note of Gratitude

A few weeks ago, I dreamed that something shook the world into a before and an after. I woke panicked, wondering how I’d find my way home. But here’s the thing: I am already home. The ocean itself is my shape. The wall is my invitation. The sanctuary is my creation—it’s our creation.

Thank you for swimming alongside me in this vast and unpredictable sea. Your presence means the world to me.

With love and gratitude,
🌊✨ Amy
xxoo

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News, Announcements, Offerings

• Soul Coaxing. I’ve reopened my private practice. If you’d like to learn about my gentle Soul Coaxing sessions, you can read about that here.

• The Flow Materials have a new home. There, you’ll find links to every previously posted Flow Transmission and a growing set of new ones. In the new space, the posts are organized into books, as requested by the guides. Come see and subscribe so you don’t miss a single transmission!