You're about to do real work, and you're going to do it from inside your own life. This is a short guide to setting things up so the work can actually land. Read it the night before we start. Then let it go.
When someone flies out to see me, something has already shifted before we ever sit down together.
They left home. They left the routines, the mail, the dishes, the people who need something from them. They got on a plane. The red rock rises up on the drive in and the body responds before the mind has words for it. By the time they walk into the room, their whole system already knows this is different.
You're not getting on a plane. You're going to close one tab and open another. Which means the thing the journey used to do for free, we're going to build on purpose.
That's not a lesser version of this work. It's a different one, and it has an advantage I'll come back to at the end. But it asks something of you up front. You have to make the room.
Not wherever you happen to be sitting when the time comes. One spot, used for this and, if you can manage it, for nothing else. Your body keeps track of what a place is for. Give it a place that means we're going in.
A few things that make a real difference:
Not the kitchen table with people moving through. If a closed door isn't possible, headphones do a surprising amount of the same work.
Partner, kids, roommate, whoever. They don't need details. They need to know that for this hour you're not available and the door stays shut. Put the dog somewhere. Silence the doorbell if it can be silenced.
The place where you answer email carries email energy. A different chair, a different corner, even a different room changes what your nervous system expects.
A candle, a stone, a photo, a cup of tea. Small and a little bit deliberate. It's a signal to yourself that something has started, and it's the same signal every time.
This is the piece people skip, and it's the piece that matters most.
Ten minutes before. Don't come sprinting off a conference call into your chair. Get there early. Sit down. Put the phone away. Breathe a few times and let your system catch up to where your body already is. Ten quiet minutes is the difference between starting the session and spending the first twenty minutes arriving.
Thirty minutes after. If you were in Sedona, nobody would schedule a business call twenty minutes after a breakthrough. At home, you absolutely will, because the calendar is right there and the day is still going. So block it now, before we start. Walk. Write. Sit. Do nothing. Let what moved keep moving instead of slamming a lid on it.
If you can, don't put anything hard on the same day. And if the whole day can't be protected, protect the hour on either side and let that be enough.
Many of the people I work with are what's called highly sensitive. They feel more, notice more, absorb more from a room than most people around them. If that's you, you've probably spent a lifetime being told you're too much, too emotional, too tender for the world.
Here's the truth. That sensitivity is not a flaw to manage. It's the very instrument that makes this work possible. It's why you'll go deep when others stay on the surface. The goal here isn't to toughen up. It's to honor what you feel and give your system what it needs to handle the depth.
Practically, that means quiet around the sessions, not just during them. It means drinking more water than feels necessary. It means not stacking a heavy social week on top of inner work. And when something stirs, giving it a minute before you decide what to do with it.
There's a simple map I come back to again and again. Three zones. Knowing which one you're in changes everything.
Familiar, safe, and where nothing much changes. Nothing wrong with it. But you didn't sign up for this to stay here.
The edge. A little uncomfortable, a little unsure, but the ground is still under you. This is where the work happens. This is where we want to spend our time.
Past the edge, where the system floods and learning shuts down. If you find yourself here, the work isn't to push harder. It's to come back to the growth zone. Breathe. Slow down. We'll get there together.
In person, I'd catch it. The shift in your breathing, the change in the air, the moment your body decides it's had enough. On video I get a face in a rectangle, and I miss things I wouldn't otherwise miss.
So I'm going to ask you to do something that might feel awkward at first. Tell me. If you're flooding, say so. If you need to stop, say stop. If you've gone somewhere else in your head and you're just nodding along, say that too. None of it will hurt my feelings and none of it means the work failed.
It's also easier to hide on camera than it is in a room, and most of us are very good at looking fine. You don't have to look fine here. That's the whole arrangement.
One of the simplest things you can have ready is EFT, often called tapping. It's a way of settling the nervous system when emotion runs high, using your own fingertips on a few points on the face and hands. It takes a couple of minutes and you can do it anywhere. Your kitchen. Your car. The five minutes right after we hang up.
It matters more in virtual work than it does in Sedona, because there's no drive back to the hotel to let things settle. You close the laptop and you're standing in your own house. Tapping gives you something to do with what's moving.
If it's new to you, I've put a plain walkthrough together so you can learn it before we start.
A free, no-frills guide to tapping. Learn it now, so it's already in your hands when you need it.
Learn tapping →None of this is complicated. It just goes better when it's handled before we start instead of in the middle.
Test the link ahead of time, not two minutes before. Use a laptop or tablet rather than a phone if you have one, and prop it up so you're not holding it. Plug in or start with a full charge. Camera on, so I can actually see you. And if the connection drops, don't panic. Get back in, or I'll call you. We pick up where we left off.
Because it is. Transformational work moves through the body, not just the mind, and a depleted body has a harder time doing it.
Eat lighter on session days, and don't come in right after a big meal. Heavy food pulls your energy into digestion exactly when you want it available. Go easy on alcohol, or skip it, on the day of a session and the night before. A drink to take the edge off tends to also take the edge off the openness this depends on, and it scatters sleep.
Protect your sleep generally, and expect it to get interesting. Dreams often pick up while we're working together. That isn't a problem. That's your system doing the filing. Keep the journal by the bed and write down whatever you remember, even the fragments that make no sense.
I told you there was an advantage. Here it is.
Someone who spends a week here gets something extraordinary, and then they get on a plane and fly home to a life that hasn't changed at all. Same kitchen, same commute, same people, same Tuesday. The mountaintop and the ordinary life are two separate places, and the gap between them is where a lot of good work quietly leaks out.
You don't have that gap. Whatever opens up in a session gets tested the next morning, in your own house, with the same people and the same job and the same traffic. That's harder in the moment. It's also the reason it sticks.
So expect things to keep moving after we hang up. Old memories surfacing. A sudden clarity in the middle of an errand. Irritation with no obvious source. Dreams that feel too vivid. Tears out of nowhere. None of that means you're coming apart. That's the work continuing without me in the room. Write it down when it happens, even a sentence, and bring it to the next session. That's often where the real material is.
And keep whatever daily practice you have small. Five minutes you actually do beats thirty minutes you plan to.
Short, simple practices to keep you grounded while the work is moving. Nothing that takes an hour.
See the daily practices →You don't need any of these to do the work. But if you're the kind of person who likes to start with a tool or two already familiar, here are the ones I reach for most. All free. All simple.
Those are just a few. The whole toolkit lives here, free, with everything else I use. Browse whatever calls to you.
Some of you are working with me through Sedona Soul Adventures, from wherever you happen to live. Some came to me directly. Some were simply pointed my way by someone who loves you. It doesn't matter which door you came through.
And you don't have to be in this town for this to be real. I've watched people change their whole lives from a chair in an apartment two thousand miles from here. The red rock is beautiful, and it is not the thing doing the work. You are.
What matters is that you're willing, and something in you is ready for a change. That's enough. That's always been enough.
Drink your water. Close the door. I'll see you soon.