When I was young, the neighborhood kids and I would spend an entire day playing a game we called Seeking Treasure.
Ranging in age from seven to eleven, we’d split into two teams and retreat to separate houses, where we sprawled across the floor mapping out a plan to outwit the other team. We’d write and decorate clever clues on slips of paper. Each team had a designated area of the neighborhood and a firm no spying rule.
We hid clues in trees, on porches, in birdhouses, and mailboxes.
Every game brought a new challenge as we searched for hiding places that would thwart the opposing team. One clue led to another. You didn’t know where you were going when you started, and you couldn’t gauge how far along the other team was in their quest.
That was the fun of it.
At the agreed-upon time, the teams met at a central location. Once the first clues were formally exchanged, the race began. I honestly can’t recall a single clue or whether there was even a treasure to be found.
Yet I have a visceral memory of packs of children running madly through the neighborhood. Putting our heads together to decipher a clue. Climbing trees, sticking our hands into small places, getting really dirty, and screaming wildly for everyone to hurry and keep up.
It was exhilarating fun.
I remember the pleasure of creating, the camaraderie, and a keen feeling of aliveness. Strangely, I have absolutely no memory of winning or losing.
Eventually, both teams ended up at the designated house where somebody’s mom had snacks waiting.
Apparently that’s when we learned that every good quest should end with celebration and plenty of food, no matter who won.
Even if you never played a game like this, I imagine you left behind at least some of that childhood creativity, freedom of movement, playful exploration, and trust that one clue would somehow lead to another.
Instead, you probably became very good at figuring things out.
You make lists, research decisions, compare possibilities, and ask other people what they think. You may even try to understand what something means before you’ve had a chance to experience it and see what emerges.
There’s nothing wrong with thinking. Your intelligent mind serves you beautifully. But some things are discovered differently. Not by trying harder to find an answer, but by becoming receptive enough to notice what meets you.
I think we need to play again.
That’s the spirit behind Awaken Your Inner Oracle, a day of Oracle Card Readings and Treasure Mapping at Soul Sanctuary.
Imagine arriving among friends, new and old, with a few questions that are alive in your life and absolutely no requirement to know the answers. We’ll play with Oracle cards, share lunch together, and spend the afternoon seeking treasure throughout Soul Sanctuary.
You’ll have an opportunity to relax, play, follow your curiosity, and discover how much more you perceive when you’re not trying so hard to be intuitive.
I’ve enjoyed so many days like this with others at Soul Sanctuary, sitting around playing with Oracle cards, seeking clues, and having no idea what we’ll find.
My favorite part is watching the doubt disappear as people discover how easily they can perceive the wisdom hidden in plain sight.
When I was running around the neighborhood all those years ago, I trusted that something would catch my attention and lead me toward the next clue. I didn’t need to know where I was going or how things would turn out before I began.
I just played.
On Saturday, September 26, I’d love to invite you to come play with me. Bring your curiosity and whatever questions are alive in your life. Let’s have some fun and see what finds you.
Come for one workshop or make a day of it. And I’ll definitely have snacks waiting for you. Some traditions are worth keeping.
Peace be with you and with all. No exceptions.
Learn the one essential skill that allows you to face any challenge with confidence, sturdiness, and inner calm.
More than a technique. It’s a game changer.
“I think we need to be friends.”
Those were the first words out of my mouth when I introduced myself to Rev. Hilda Covington. We’d just finished a county meeting of nonprofit mental health and social service agencies. She was the presenter that month. We almost didn’t meet because Hilda arrived an hour and a half late to a two-hour meeting.
Life has a rhythm. It speeds up and slows down according to mysterious forces.
Your personal rhythm dances with the celestial bodies, seasons of the year, developmental phases, and the pulse of your Soulful evolutionary process. Living in harmony with these rhythms is in many ways hard to understand as it is a complicated and deeply personal process. Your rhythm dances with everyone’s rhythm in the grand Cosmic Dance.
There are conversations you may instinctively avoid. Death. Dying. The journey beyond are among them. The final exhale. The closing of the body. The long walk home. The next place of being. In many ancient traditions, this is not an ending, but a sacred passage—a birth into new realms of being. Yet here, in this fast-moving world, death often remains veiled in silence, wrapped in fear, and avoided in conversation.
It’s uncomfortable feeling the darkness within the belly, leaking into the day. The waking to news that frightens, angers, and confuses you. This world gone astray.
I got my wings today. No bell chimed. No angelic harmony resounded. They were just handed to me.
My husband and I drove separately to the Philadelphia airport in the pouring rain to pick up our guests from Peru.
