It is the steady ground beneath your feet when life feels uncertain, the gentle reminder of your connection to something greater, and the gift of responding to life in a more rooted, grounded way.

Many moons ago, I heard a sacred truth that pierced my heart in ways I am still uncovering. Since then, I have walked many paths. I have sat with New Age teachings and gone deep into shamanic traditions. I have studied quantum physics and surrendered to bhakti, the devotional way of the heart. I microdose mushrooms and weave in kundalini.

Each path has shaped me. Each one has become part of my toolkit, a light I can return to when I need guidance, and a refuge when I long to remember the oneness that holds us all.

Like any relationship, a spiritual practice requires meeting yourself fully. It asks you to be present in the muck and the heaviness as much as in the beauty of a sunrise or the blossoming of a rose. Nature has been one of my greatest teachers, showing me how to surrender, how to trust cycles, and how to keep beginning again. My human teachers have guided me, but so too has the ocean, the mountains, and the shooting stars in the silence of the night sky.

Still, again and again, I return to my own practice.

Most days that is as simple as reciting the Hanuman Chalisa in the background of my mind while moving through daily life. To chant it is to belong to a lineage of love and service, to feel carried by something timeless.

Some days I practice TM. I remember sitting on the beach in Ibiza after being initiated into Transcendental Meditation, repeating the mantra I had been given. In a moment of stillness, the mantra began repeating me. My lips fell silent, yet I could hear it alive within me, as though millions of voices were chanting through me.

That is the mystery of practice: You begin with effort, and then it begins to carry you.

A practice will not always make life easier. Sometimes the deeper you go, the more life asks of you. But the difference is in how you meet what comes.

In my master’s program in spiritual psychology, we were taught a truth I still live by: how you respond to the issue is the issue.

It is not what happens to you, my love, but how you respond. Your response shows you where you are and what within you is still waiting to be healed. Your response carries the codes for your deepest unconscious patterns.

My practices have saved me more times than I can count. They have been my sanity, my grounding, and my doorway into faith. They remind me again and again that we live in a benevolent universe, no matter what the world may seem to show. God, Love, and that great Mystery are holding each of us, because we are all drops in the same ocean.

Today my practice is dedicated to peace, to a peaceful heart and a peaceful mind for all of us, for you reading these words, and even for those who will never see them.

May you find the practice that becomes your own refuge. May you devote yourself to remembering who you are, not for accolades or riches, but for the calm place within that is always home.

I love you, loving you,

Honeybee Henderson

I had just given a TED Talk. Jordan. Weeks of nerves leading up to it, the kind that sit in your chest and your stomach and do not care how many times you have done hard things before. And then, the second I opened my mouth, they dissolved. The way they always do once I finally step into the thing I am afraid of.

I remember standing on that stage feeling so open. So grounded. So grateful. My whole body was saying yes.

That yes was intuition, plain and simple. The part of me that knows before it can explain why.

Partway through I invited the audience into my world famous hip circles experience. And boy, was I excited. I knew it would get a giggle, like it usually does, and I know deep down how profound this practice really is in assisting real time liberation.

In the room, in my body, it felt right. Shoot, it always feels right. It felt like an offering. A gift, a way to connect hundreds of people, and for a few minutes, all of us just moving.

I walked off that stage lit up. Connected. Proud. Super stoked.

Then I got home, and weeks later, they sent me the replay.

And there it was. Time for hip circles, and I was so curious to see me in action. And the video spanned the crowd, they brought the lights up, there it was. Confusion. On not just one, but many people. (Now, sometimes that is a discomfort for living out loud in front of people.) But that specific look that is not quite laughter and not quite discomfort, just a kind of what is happening right now.

That one look was all my inner critic needed.

She came in fast.

How could you have thought that was good? How could you have imagined that was helpful for anybody? Who told you that you deserved to be up there telling your story in the first place?

Funny how quickly a whole roomful of yeses can get erased by a handful of confused faces on a screen. Funny how loud my mind got when she finally has something to point to.

I had felt so good giving that talk. So connected. So proud. And then, from one single camera angle, watching people’s faces instead of feeling my own body, I built an entirely different story about the exact same fifteen minutes.

Same talk. Same hip circles. Same me.

Two completely different experiences, depending only on where I was standing when I looked at it.

So I did what I so often ask the people I work with to do.

I went back into my body.

How did it feel while I was up there. Open. Grounded. Free.

How does it feel right now, replaying it, believing the critic. Tight. Small. Ashamed of something I had been proud of ten minutes earlier.

What shifted between those two feelings. Nothing about the talk. Only what I was looking at.

What is the story I am telling myself right now. That I failed them. That I should not have been up there at all.

Is there another perspective available to me.

Our minds love certainty, my love. They will always reach for the story that feels most familiar, even when that story is not for your highest good, because familiar feels safer than true. And the critic is familiar. She has been talking to me my whole life. She knows exactly where to aim.

But intuition was still there too. Quieter, maybe. But not gone.

And there it was. The same intuition that got me on that stage in the first place, still right there, waiting for me to trust her again over the story my mind had built from a few confused faces in a crowd.

I felt it land in my body before my mind caught up. A full body yes, the same yes I felt walking onto that stage.

And boom. The shift.

Back to being so proud of myself. That I dared to stand in front of hundreds of people and share my thoughts, my story, my life. Yay, here’s to feeling all that comes up, and alchemizing the shit out of them, until alignment is reached. Exactly what my talk was on.

That is freedom to me. Not the absence of the spiral. The ability to find your way back through it, every single time, even when it is buried in the beautiful chaos of your own mind.

That is what I want for everyone I work with. To know their own way back. Even, especially, when the mind is so sure it has the truth. To feel into the body first, and let the mind catch up after.

Whose eyes am I seeing this through. Is this the fullest picture, or just the one my mind found first. What would I see if I came back into my own body instead.

The chaos in the mind will always sound very sure of itself. That is not the same as being true.

Pay attention to that. Get curious instead. There is almost always something else there.

I love you loving you,

Honeybee

And me loving me.

PS. If you want to experience an intuitive reading with me, let’s talk. I am so excited and honored to support you in finding your inner freedom….

PSS here is the link, in case you are interested.

Oh, by the way… I AM DONE.

…for now.

I know this manuscript is just one piece of the journey. I know I’ll need to edit it to bring it fully to life, and I know that these stories are no longer just mine anymore.

I realized today that there is a part of me that is so nervous to have other people’s eyes on my sacred stories. A part of me that is terrified of being criticized. Yet, I know the book needs other hands to help it take shape so it can do whatever it was meant to do in this world.

So, I’m taking a pause. No writing, no editing, no formatting… not until after my birthday, and not until my beloveds are ready to dive in and share feedback.

Right now, I am working on a shift in consciousness...

turning criticism into feedback.

I grew up under a very critical lens. And damn, criticism used to hurt so deep. But here I am, holding the prayer that this book finds its wings, that it finds the people who are meant to lay their eyes on my stories, my life.

Eek. It’s the wildest thing I have ever done. Up until now.

Yesterday, during a quick chat with one of my besties, he said,

Oh yeah, you want to heal your fear of criticism? Put yourself out into the world and let millions of people critique you.

ouf

He’s right, even if I don’t know about those exact numbers! But this really is a massive coming out party I’m throwing for myself on the eve of my 50th birthday.

And I am ready. Totally afraid, and completely ready.

To be seen.

Here I am.

The first time I felt this way was back in 2009, standing on a stage in front of a few hundred people. Reading my story aloud when this book first peeked its way into the world. Here I am. But back then, it was such a safe container, surrounded by people who already loved me and were cheering me on.

Damn, there is so much energy moving through me this morning.

Am I ready? How do I know? Am I going to put it out anyway?

HEAVENS YES.

Am I scared?

Yes.

Does it matter?

Well, what matters, what I’ve finally learned, is that I have me. I’m holding my own hand, and I am so damn proud of myself. I keep repeating it over and over again:

In the mirror ... Baby, I am so proud of you.

While making coffee this morning ... I am so proud of you.

Walking on the beach ... Girl, you did it. I am so proud of you.

Words that feel like salve on an old, outdated wound.

Lately, I’ve also been dreaming of Austin a lot. I feel so much compassion for that 26 year old version of me who was constantly chasing… everything.

Today, I don’t feel the need to chase. Well, nothing except my own dreams.

I am 49 years and 11 months and 25 days old… and I am learning to fully be me.

Yay.

Here’s to all of us breaking free from the stories that kept us locked up like a prison with an open door, just waiting for us to find the courage to step outside and say…

Here I am.

loving me, loving you,

honeybee

I went to bed early last night, shifting some things around for better sleep. I actually got enough sleep, but that “hmmm, what time is it?” thought popped in. It was dark and quiet, and the only sound I could hear was the waves crashing against the shore.

I checked my phone: 3:33.

Hmmm, that’s fun, I thought. I turned over, pulled on my half-adjusted eye mask, and my mind started rolling.

A million and a half thoughts. If I’m honest, they were all kind of senseless... pero I entertained them for a good few minutes anyway.

And then, the soft voice showed up. You know the one. The loving, kind voice. The one who is my greatest cheerleader, my greatest ally. The one who has the tools and isn’t afraid to use them. That one.

She came in quietly. Under the mask I was wearing, in the dark, I saw a door. An open door.

Luckily for me, this isn’t my first rodeo with anxiety, so I witnessed the door opening, curious about what was coming. And the voice simply said, “We are so proud of you. You are doing so great. You are completing a huge project, and it’s natural to feel this way. Come in, you are welcome.”

And just like that, my breath softened. My heart began to slow, as if preparing for life’s greatest event: a homecoming for the parts of me that have been totally worked up, and the parts of me that are jumping up and down.

And you know, it was life’s greatest event. For me. For this morning.

I lay there and felt my breath regulate and elongate. The exhales became longer... and I realized, shit, I don’t have to do this alone.

I am minutes away from completing a huge part of this book. Minutes. Literally. I thought I was done, but there’s a little more to go. I am also planning a 50th birthday trip for myself, and I just felt like everything was too much. So at 5:15 AM, I sent a message to the girls and said, “I need help.”

They responded with love, kindness, ideas, and a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

I did it. I didn’t suffer alone. I didn’t feel the need to organize every detail to perfection. I let myself be held by people who love me (which is huge for me, and didn’t go unnoticed).

Later, I went down to the beach to feed my cat family and was met by a man I see daily. He lives down on the beach, helps keep it clean, and has very little... whatever fits in the shed at the restaurant he caretakes.

He gifted me a beautiful seashell.

I mean, beautiful.

From a man who has “little” in the material world, but a heart of gold, he gifted me a seashell he has been carrying for a long time.

And it snapped me right out of my stress, my anxiety, and my overwhelm. Just like that. A little gift from a beautiful human with a huge heart reminded me that I can relax.

I can relax.

The universe will always provide and give gifts. It is so benevolent. Sometimes we can get bogged down in the fight for humanity, when humans are literally everywhere being kind to each other for no reason at all.

I needed to record this moment. It’s barely 8:45 AM, and the day is already beyond my wildest dreams. We are so very blessed if we focus on the beauty...

As per usual...

I love you, loving you,

Honeybee Henderson

Less than three weeks out from finishing a huge edit and getting ready to send it out for some to read. Three weeks away. And I got stopped dead in my tracks. Just before the finish line.

Today is the first day I feel like writing again, and the only way I know to get back on the horse is to proverbially get back on the actual horse. So here I am, writing about my process, again. Very meta, I know.

At first I met grief. I wrote to my dear Betsy. No one told me about the grief I would experience in coming to completion with this project. And per the usual, Betsy reminded me that this is a very common process for writers.

Fair enough. I understood that part. Writing a memoir means reliving the story, not just telling it. My nervous system was in there too, meeting old wounds from a new angle, activated by every page I had to sit with twice. That grief made sense to me.

But there was a second grief underneath it. And that one caught me off guard.

This project has been with me since 2008, when it first began. 18 years. I remember those early days vividly. My heart was delighted to be writing. My mind was focused. Excitement was leading me. Now, all these years later, I am writing a completely different book. One that got lost after nearly a decade, and over the last year, I started a completely new version of the same book.

18 years, my love. I don’t fully know why it’s taken me this long. It just has. My family surely doesn’t understand it. Honestly, some days I don’t either.

And can I just say. I get so irritated with people who casually say, oh, I write books. Like it’s a thing you decide on a Tuesday.

me. 18 years.

so, here I am. So close to the finish line.

How many times in those years, have I told people I am writing a book. How many times in all those years, have I told people I am finishing writing a book. How many times in all those mother loving 18 years, have I told people I am a person writing something.

Damn, that’s the trap. Somewhere in almost two decades of calling myself a writer, an identity built itself around this project without asking my permission. And I am only meeting her now, on my way out the door.

The first grief I expected. The second one, the identity, that was the surprise.

I thought I was grieving the finish line. But maybe I was grieving her. The writer. The one who narrates. Who am I without that?

Here is the truth of it, my love, I mean, honestly. How can I call myself a writer when all I really want is to experience life? This co-creation thing is a wild ride. Part of me knows how to align with my spirit. Part of me knows how to merge with the divine. And part of me tells stories, as a way to help others find their own path.

Long ago, in a medicine ceremony, I noticed something. If I narrated what I was experiencing, the medicine would stop showing me things. But if I could sit. If I could just observe. She would keep showing me the stars.

So which one am I? The one who lives it, or the one who writes it down?

The question remained. How do I continue?

Curiosity for the win.

As soon as I got curious with this part of me, the one holding such a strong identity, I realized something. She gets to be free. She doesn’t need to hold this energy anymore. She doesn’t need to claim to be a writer, or a person writing anything.

She just gets to be free.

And just like that, kind of just like that, she opened. And the words came again.

Who is writing this? I have no idea.

But there is a part of me that will always work with the divine to share myself.

Betsy would tell me that because I am writing a memoir, my nervous system is activated. She is not wrong. And it’s fascinating to witness, even while it is happening to me.

All I can think of is who I am going to be when this chapter is complete. Imagine how much energy has been wrapped up in this story. Wow. Our identities are beautiful guideposts, until they start to feel like a crutch. At least I can speak for myself.

In this now moment, in space and time, I feel aligned, open, and ready to edit again. And I come back to my why, my purpose for writing this story of mine. And I remember.

We are all just walking each other home.

ps. that’s my birthday pinata, i couldn’t crash her, so instead, she sits on my altar, as a reminder that well, it’s ok to be seen.

i love you loving you,

and me, loving all those sweet parts of me.

HOneybee

-1. FOLLOW THE SIGNS - They are, literally, everywhere.  Open your heart, and you will see them.  they will be specific for you.  don't question it.  they are there. 

 2. REST OFTEN - There will be a burst of energy and then you must take the necessary time to recuperate, just like nature does.  

3. NATURE is MAGIC & MAGIC is NATURAL - This was a message directly given to me by Maria.  While I am still learning to "Not get so caught up in the WOW factor", i am learning that magic, is simply the natural way that energy moves.

4. EVERYTHING IS ENERGY - play with it. Learn to work with it. Spin it, change it, avoid it....trust yourself.

And the greatest lesson - it's a life spoiler alert -

LOVE WON.

yes, love already won.  

No matter if you feel like you are winning or losing at life, love is actually winning.  The challenges are big wins for LOVE.  The successes too. 

The defeat is love protecting you. The abandonment is to help you get clear that you are never left by the divine. The betrayal - is to help you see that love never left your side.  in the end, love wins.  every time.  

I love you and look forward to hearing how your Camino is going...do share.

I love hearing from you my family.

Be blessed. 

Right foot. Left Foot.

I love you loving you,

Honeybee

well what the literal fuck, is usually my first reaction. I have had 2 phone calls recently that shook me. in a good way, always in a good way.

Sometimes, my hard headedness needs a good shake down, so i can wake up to my reality.

Yesterday a call with a dear friend who is psychic, who i love, told me i need more followers if i want to get my book going anywhere. Ugh, yes, i know, and i am so focused on almost being done with the first major draft, that i am focused on that.

I felt like that wasn’t enough. i should be doing more. I should be growing my audience.

well, for whatever the reason, i don’t have the energy to do both at the same time. I just don’t. i do what i can, and that is all i can do. I have building my tik tok, my insta, and my facebook, my substack...it’s a lot.

and i will say, i am so grateful for those of you who read my words and have been with me through this journey. it really does mean so much to me.

and i can only do what i can do.

I am on the last chapter of a book i started in 2009. THE LAST CHAPTER.... and i feel so good about it.

That conversation deflated me, until it revved me up.

I sat wtih my guru, and the divine mother, my sacred council. i remembered, wait a second, i am a mother loving creator, and i have God at my side. I am limitless. i can do anything. maybe just maybe it does happen one step at a time.

that’s ok. it will happen. it is already done.

and with that. i wrote the best piece i have written about my imaginary friend, jay joes jefferson. i made a post on tik tok, and one for instagram, and it’s only 9:41 AM. i am on fire. and it feel so good.

Something about june 9 and the leo energy, i have no idea, but it’s an important day for me. in so many ways.

i got 3 new tik tok followers with that post. i am up to 83! which for me is a huge win. i got a couple likes on instagram too.

now, i do need to remind myself that i am writing for me, and my eyes, but damn it. i have the capacity to reach the masses . so it shall be in whatever way the Great Spirit wants me to. It may be that i touch one person who has a large reach, and i am SO good wtih it.

I know that i am capable to hold space for those who are ready to go deep, to reclaim their joy, not because i studied how to, because i have lived it. and that is what i pray these words, my stories, my life... does. helps people see that if she can do it, so can you.

you know through every fucking hard moment in life... and people telling me i couldn’t have my dreams, i have kept showing up for me. and you know what? as i sit here now, looking at the beach, planning to surf later, having such a deep sense of calm in my nervous system... i know this is true.

I am not hiding. even if i was.

That call helped me to remember I am a multidemensional being here to experience all the levels of the Universe, and so can you.

ok, big exhale. i gotta client now.

as per the usual. i love you loving you,

honeybee

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