I’m currently pouring my heart into something I’m deeply passionate about. It’s been years in the making — something I’ve studied, embodied, and focused on more intensely over the past couple of years. Here’s the thing though: I, personally, don’t need science to validate my experiences. I’m incredibly grateful to have been born into a family that embraced ideas and experiences others might call weird or wacky. Because of this, I’ve lived through moments that defy explanation by the usual 3D, physical-world logic. The only problem was that I didn’t always have the words to describe them!
Over the years, I’ve shared my experiences with certain people. Some listened with curiosity, others with respectful confusion. No one’s called me mad to my face —yet! What I’ve noticed, though, is that people who haven’t ventured into the non-physical realms often struggle to believe in them. Some are curious, some want to experience it for themselves, while others dismiss it outright, rolling their eyes and writing it all off as bullshit.
Here’s the fascinating part: a lot of the teachers and mentors I’ve worked with (or admired from afar) talk about how science is finally catching up to ancient wisdom. And while I can appreciate the science behind quantum physics, metacognition, epigenetics, or neural programming, I’m not about to pretend I fully understand every study or formula that “proves” these things. For me, it’s simpler than that: it feels right. That’s enough for me.
I’ve come to realise that sprinkling in some “wanky science” does have its perks though, especially when trying to bridge the gap with skeptics (or create said business). A little well-placed jargon can sometimes open minds that would otherwise stay tightly shut. So I should learn enough to speak their language — not because I need the validation, but because it might help someone else see what I’ve always known to be true.
There are experiences I’ve had that science still can’t explain, and honestly, that’s fine. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything — they’re etched into my soul. Today, as I drove through the chaos of holiday traffic, I was listening to Joe Dispenza’s You Are the Placebo. Not once did I roll my eyes or dismiss his stories as crazy. Instead, I found myself nodding along, thinking, Yeah, this makes sense. This feels right.
“Isee him now as clearly as if he were standing before me — a wise elder, a Native American tribal man, his presence as commanding as it is gentle. His feathered headdress is a masterpiece of colour and craftsmanship, each feather vibrant and purposeful. His face, lined with years of smiles, radiates a kindness that seems to hold the universe’s compassion. And those eyes — they shine with a love that transcends words.”
He’s been with me my whole life, a quiet guide in the background of my mind. I’ve spoken to him, felt his presence, and known, without doubt, that he is always near and watching over me.
When my naturopath mentioned a healer named Matt, I didn’t know much about him, but something inside me urged me to go. Trusting that instinct, I booked an appointment without a second thought. One day, I found myself driving into the hills, arriving at a house that smelled of sage. Its earthy aroma wrapping me in calm the moment I stepped inside. I wasn’t sure what to expect — maybe nothing — but I figured that even the adventure itself was worth something. It always is!
Mum had always told me not to give too much away, so I kept my answers short when Matt asked why I was there. “I don’t know,” I said. Yet there was something about him — his calm manner, the warmth in his smile — that immediately put me at ease. Then, mid-conversation, he glanced over my shoulder, and his smiled.
“You’ve brought someone with you,” he said.
He described the man I’ve always seen — the elder with the feathered headdress, the kind eyes, and the protective presence. Somehow, I knew I was in the right place. Matt explained that this man was my guide, my spiritual father for this lifetime, always by my side. He encouraged me to keep talking to him, to trust the connection. In that moment, something shifted; I felt an overwhelming sense of reassurance, as though the universe itself had just whispered, See, you’re not alone.
That first session set the tone for the years to come. Whenever I felt stuck down by life, I’d make the drive back to see Matt. We didn’t rely on words alone; this was deeper than any talk therapy. Through meditation, energy work, and the flickers of memory that surfaced, we tackled emotions and traumas buried far below my conscious mind.
Through our work together, I uncovered memories— some sharp, others hazy and abstract. They ranged from small moments, like childhood embarrassments, to life-altering traumas. I flickered back to the time the neighbourhood kids trapped me in a dead-end street, blocking me and my dog from passing. The fear and helplessness from that day had hung around in ways I hadn’t realised. Then there were the darker times — when my drink was spiked or during other non-consensual moments. Spoiler alert: this kind of shit has been happening to women for generations, all over the world.
In my day to day life, images come to me so vividly sometimes, they’re more like memories than visions.
“Iwas in another life, in another time. I was Native American, though I couldn’t tell if it was North or South America. The forest around me wasn’t dense but had a tropical or subtropical air, with shafts of sunlight filtering through the canopy. I was young — late teens or early twenties — and I was scared. I didn’t know who I was hiding from, but I felt hunted.
Beside me was a white wolf, her presence grounding and protective. She stayed close, her eyes meeting mine with a deep, unspoken understanding. At night, I’d rest my head on her warm side, her heartbeat putting me to sleep. She was my safety, my companion, my guardian. The memory — or vision — was so real it comforted me.”
Years later, when I lost Pokes, my beautiful staffy, I was shattered. Grief is heavy, a fog that dulls life itself. Life moves on, as it does, but the weight of her loss stayed. A few months after her passing, I went to see Matt, desperate for some guidance. He knew I was grieving and gently brought her up as we talked.
He paused, took a deep breath, and said, “You know, it’s not her first life with you.”
His words hit me hard but it made sense. Pokes and I had always shared a beautiful connection — she seemed to understand me without words, always anticipating what I needed or where we were headed. “She used to be a white wolf,” Matt said.
Tears filled my eyes. The memory of that other life came back — the forest, the fear, and the safety I’d found with her. She had come back to me in this life, her loyalty and love transcending time and form.
In that moment, I understood something great about our connections, the threads that weave through lifetimes. Love like that doesn’t end; it simply transforms.
“I” sat up, gently lifting out of my body. I picked up the necklace from my bedside cabinet, slipped it on and got out of bed. I walked down the hallway, went into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and then turned around and went back to bed.”
Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a quiet little out of body adventure. It’s what we all do, right?
At the time, I didn’t have a name for it, but I’d been astro-travelling regularly. I knew that when I went to sleep, I could wake up my soul while leaving my body behind, peacefully asleep. It felt so natural. The innocence and curiosity that flowed through me showed no fear, just excitement— maybe that’s why I love lucid dreaming now. I played with this a lot.
This one night, before I drifted off to sleep, I decided to take off this gold necklace my boyfriend at the time had given me. I put it on my bedside table and went to sleep.
The crazy part? When I woke up for real, the necklace was gone. Vanished. Just like that. My boyfriend was furious, and I couldn’t tell him the truth — Hey, I put it on in my dream and left it there, because… well, he’d never get it. He wasn’t the type to understand that. For weeks, I tried to astro-travel again, hoping I could retrace my steps, take the necklace off, and bring it back. But it never happened. I moved my bed, I moved out of the house, and it disappeared, never to be seen again.
Until…
Years later, I found myself in a new house. Said boyfriend was out of the scene and Mum had returned to Adelaide for Mother’s Day. The idea of joining the family catch up didn’t appeal to me at all. She came to me instead.
I was lying on the lounge room floor when she offered to give me some Reiki. I surrendered to the moment. My head nestled between two pillows, I felt that familiar, peaceful energy — and then, just like that, I saw it. The necklace. It fell off my neck, right before my eyes. I must’ve tensed up because Mum immediately asked what was wrong.
I looked at her, wide-eyed. “The necklace I put on in my dream… it just fell off.”
Without skipping a beat, Mum smiled and said, “Oh, it’s about time you took that off!”
And just like that, we both moved on. We didn’t need to talk about it any further. For us, it was just another normal moment in a life filled with unexplained magic.
I have so many magical stories!!!
When I was really young, I had a gold ring with a little love heart and an “R” engraved on it. One day, it vanished. Gone. Over the years, we emptied my room, repainted, redecorated — turned the place upside down — but the ring never showed up. Then, as we were packing up to move out of the house, there it was. Just sitting in the middle of my bedroom floor like it had never been missing. Where had it been all that time? Some other realm? A cosmic game of hide and seek? Who knows. At least this one decided to come back!
In the end, my life is one of integration. For years, my experiences felt like secrets whispered from another dimension — unexplainable moments that shaped my understanding of life but left me struggling for the words to describe them. And then came the science: quantum physics, neuroplasticity, epigenetics, and NLP. They validated what I’ve always known in my soul to be true.
These fields are like bridges, connecting the seen with the unseen, the rational with the intuitive. They don’t erase the mystery; they illuminate it, showing how the ancient wisdom I’ve felt my whole life dances hand-in-hand with modern understanding.
Blending these realms isn’t about seeking approval for my experiences — it’s about giving others a lens to see what’s possible. When we weave the mystical with the measurable, we create space for curiosity, healing, and growth.
So here I am, standing at the crossroads of mysticism and quantum possibility, sharing my stories not to prove anything but to invite you to explore your own. Because whether it’s a whisper from a guide, a memory that defies time, or a moment of science-backed transformation, the truth is this: we’re all capable of extraordinary connection, both within ourselves and with the universe.