I believe that everything you want in life happens when you align with your soul. I'm here to help you do that so that you can create and lead with powerful impact.

When your purpose is to be nothing.

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“I have met brave [women and men] who are exploring the outer edge of human possibility,
with no history to guide them, and the courage to make themselves vulnerable…
that I find moving beyond words.” -Gloria Steinem–


I’ll never forget the first time she said it to me.

Your ultimate destiny is to become nothing. Disappear. Dissolve.

I suddenly felt as if my brain was inside of a glass jar and that jar was now slowly being turned upside down as my brain bounced off against the smooth glass walls of its confinement. I blinked slowly in disbelief.

Maybe once I open my eyes, the answer will be different, I thought. Slowly the light began to come back into focus onto several sets of eyes peering back at me to gauge my reaction.

And then the loud familiar bells of my mind’s protest clanged in between my ears.

What the fuck is this? Bullshit!

My ego did not like this one bit. Everyone in this room had just been told what a big famous star they were about to be. You were born with a microphone in your hand. Born to have followers rabid over everything you do.

And here was I, the one that was supposed to be…nothing?

That old wounding, marked into my astrological chart from birth came back to haunt me as I felt a pang in my chest.

Your life lesson is being seen, the astrologer had told me long ago.
Feeling seen for who you really are. Issues of feeling not seen as you fully are, being misunderstood. And ultimately, it’s about allowing your power to be fully seen by the world, because you are meant for very, very big things. It’s all over your chart. But you will struggle with feeling not truly seen. You will learn how to be seen in a way that feels in integrity to you.

Those words rang in contrast to what this woman had just said to me.

Your purpose is to dissolve and disappear.

I was thoroughly confused now. Just one more case of not being seen and everyone else being lauded except me, I heard the 5 year old in me grumble. That old, dull pain flashed in me for an instant. And then I dismissed it, packing it away into one of the corners of my ribcage, hoping I’d never remember it again.

It was not a truth convenient for a woman who had spent most of her life fighting to be finally seen, to be told she is meant to be dissolved into nothing.

To my ego that meant I was unimportant. Invisible. Doomed to be passed over.

Why does no one ever see me.

While I hoped I’d forget what she said, I never did. It stayed there in my ribcage gnawing at me, as most truths do until we finally have the courage to face them, open-hearted and wide-eyed.


Here I was now, sitting in this gorgeous mansion, leading a retreat with 13 amazing women. Retreats, you see, are my zone of genius. I know I am good at this. I love it with a passion. I know I can get results like you’ve never seen anywhere during a retreat. And the feeling I get from it is unlike anything else that I do, apart from writing. It is a pure state of flow, joy and confident, calm ecstasy.

A wise teacher once told me that you know you’ve reached your state of flow, your true calling, when you have a small part of you that says, this is so easy, I can’t believe I get paid to do this. This is what it feels like.

It’s not the kind of “easy” one feels at doing nothing. Or having a lazy day, mind-melding into the TV.

No, this kind of ease, it’s an active state. Where every cell within you is being used to serve the moment. In those moments or hours of deep presence, you forget you have a body. You forget to drink or eat. You forget who you are.

You are nothing except a pure embodiment of what is needed in that exact moment.

Often, you don’t remember what you did or said because every hair on your body is focused on pouring itself into the moment to create an opening, a gasp, a sharp intake of breath as something releases in the person across from you and their power comes rushing back into them like a river quenching land that had long been in drought. You can almost hear the life coming back to her, a low, crackling and sighing sound of relief.

Here I’d been all morning, working with my women. And now it was time for a break. And the women walked off, away from me, to talk to each other.

Something in me caught.

Wait a minute…

I could hear the tiny voice of my ego raising her hand, interrupting my state of presence.

They aren’t coming to you! They aren’t all clamoring for your time and attention. Like at all those other conferences you see, where everyone is dying to come talk to the speaker.

Something must be wrong, says my ego.

No, nothing is wrong. This feels good, says my soul. The wise part of me knows this is exactly how it is supposed to be. But the part of me that wants to deliver the best experience possible, that wants to be liked, keeps speaking up.

If they don’t need you, does this mean you’re not doing a good enough job?

The break ended and it was time to begin again. No time to think about that now, back to work.

But that night I drove home with that little nagging feeling in my ego that something isn’t right. I text my friend Sam. I’m feeling something but I don’t know what it is. It’s late, he’s sleeping now and probably won’t respond until tomorrow. So, I am left with my thoughts as I make the pitch-black drive down one mountain on ancient Chumash land and up the unclaimed mountain where my house lives.

I lay in bed, blinking in the darkness, trying to find clarity. What is this? This nagging, sharp feeling in my chest.

I press into it with my palm.

What? What do you need to tell me?, I ask my body.

And that memory I tucked away into my ribs a long time ago comes roaring back.

Your ultimate destiny is to become nothing. Disappear. Dissolve.

My eyes open wide as I finally understand what that woman meant, all those years ago.

I am so wired by this realization it takes me several hours to sleep. It is the feeling of being so in love that even the very insects seem to be singing. I stay up to feel the vibrations of this realization in my fingertips and bones.

And then I fall into nothingness and dreams.


The High Priestess.

The great holder of space. She who empties herself out and becomes the chalice, waiting to be filled by the waterfalls of the sacred.

She who uses her own body to channel the holy water that is needed in the space around her. Whose most important job lies in simply watching as the souls around her are quenched.
Laying neither claim nor credit to any of it.

She who disappears her own visage momentarily in order to become the mirror for others to look into and heal. She who must slip easily in between worlds, undetected.

She whose job is not to “do” as the ego or the current world view would define it.
But rather sit.

She whose job it is to set up the container and then get out of the way.

She whose shadow to overcome is to hide and not be seen.

She who must allow herself to be seen widely
as the chalice, the emptiness, the faceless.

She who must step out of the way in order to transmute the space & serve at her highest.


The day I sat with the High Priestess, I cried for 8 hours.
I hated it so much.

I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I wanted to leave and never come back to this frequency.
It was hard.

But it was because my ego thought that being seen could only be done one way.

All I had been taught for years in this field doing what I love was that one must become a guru, a worshipped one. One must have followers that want to know what color lipstick they wear on Instagram. Or where to buy that cute dress. One must display a carefully curated lifestyle for others to aspire to.

This is the way one survives, say the voices of this world in which I do my great work.
This is the way one makes money and lives.

Being on the pedestal, with a mic in hand. Worshipped and lauded by many who’ve projected their value and worth on you in hopes that you will give it back to them, when in fact they’ve always had it all along.

Every authority out there telling me this since I began doing the work I do with others in my business. Every authority out there telling you to do this in any business. It is the way of the world. It is the way of fame and recognition. It is the way to get your work out there if you want to help others.

And yet something nagged at me always about it. For years. Something always didn’t feel quite right. I went to a lot of people to try to figure out what this jagged feeling in me was about. I never got the answers. I realized I was going to have to create the answers. To venture into a whole new way of being seen for which I had virtually no role models.

In this world we are told that all those who survive and succeed — they follow a formula.

What is valuable is what is tangible.
What is replicable. Blueprint. Template.
Step by step system.

In this world, what is good and holy is sitting in a hotel conference room with flipcharts. Loudly introducing yourself in any forum with your 7 figure revenue results to make sure people instantly give you cred and respect.

Waiting for your big entrance after being purposely inaccessible to establish “expert status”, then walking into a room full of roaring, cheering, adoring fans, with a mic attached to your ear and a wearing a fabulous dress you asked your instagram followers to help you pick and watching the hunger in your audience’s eyes.

There is a formula to this. If you follow it, you live. You make money. You prosper.

But there is always something about this that has felt off for me. There is something about this that feels contrived as I watch yet another woman replicate that formula. Because I have been in those rooms. And for some it is authentic to express this way and, this is not to put that form of expression down, if it is truly authentic and in alignment to them.

But more often than not, while everyone else is looking at her fabulous dress as she makes her way on to the stage in her Jimmy Choos…I am looking at something else.

A desperate flame hiding deep behind her eyes.
A flame that says I am on this stage because I was told to do it this way. I was told this is how I make money. How I survive. How I get to pay my dues before I finally get to do my art. And it worked. I made a lot of money. But something doesn’t feel right. I want more than this.

I always knew I just would never be that kind of avatar. And for years I told myself this was just my own resistance. That I was afraid of my own power and sabotaging myself for not doing it that way. Until I realized I’m here to be a whole other kind of power.


In this world in which I work, the intangible, the soul work, is a strange thing.
An afterthought. The thing you work on after you make your money or get your fame.

How many times have I heard from women, I don’t want to work with you yet because first I have to go get the blueprint that will make me 7 figures.

They say: flipchart and 7 step system.
I say: holding space and witnessing.
They blink, blank-eyed, confused.

In this world view that is so prevalent, these intangible gifts hold no value. You cannot grasp them in your hand, mold them and easily see how to monetize them in the carefully developed formulas. So you throw them away. Or make them frivolous afterthoughts to be considered only after you’ve gotten your fame and your money.

The problem is these gifts cannot be measured with the measuring systems we have.
They cannot be monetized and sold like blueprints.

And yet, these are the greatest gifts I possess.
These are the greatest gifts so many of the women I work with possess.
These are the greatest gifts that our world so desperately needs right now.

These are the gifts that no one teaches us how to develop and own because we’re told they are not the gifts that make us money or create fame. I call bullshit on that.

I, and so many of the women who come to me, spent years secretly believing that we’d never succeed like we wanted to, because no one values our true gifts. So we warped it and made it more palatable for a while, for fear that we would not survive. But that never quite worked out as we had hoped. Something was always gnawing at us.

One cannot take the howl out of the wolf and force it to be a dog.

Flipcharts don’t channel the energetic transmission that is needed by a woman in the room who is finally ready to let go of her masks and embrace the power that she is. A skintight Herve Leger dress doesn’t hold a woman energetically as she breaks down crying and finally allows herself to be held by the sisters in circle around her. A blueprint cannot whisper a woman’s soul back into her body or remind her of her inherent worthiness.

If this world in which I do my work were to compare what I do when I’m in my zone of genius with their own grading and measuring system, it would say I do nothing of value. It would say my work is nothing. An afterthought.

For those who’ve come to me after the blueprint spat them out and left them wanting something more, there is a fear that says this is what I long to do, but because I see no one else doing this, why would anyone pay for that?

Their gifts don’t lie in flipcharts or blueprints. Or 7 step systems.

Their gifts lie in taking people into the cave of themselves.
Moving energy in a space that allows a person to get out of their own way.
Humming healing into the hip flexors of the body.
Chanting and communing with the earth under our feet to remind us of who we are.

These gifts require the one who channels them to become like the High Priestess:

To put her ego Self aside and channel the greater thing that is needed in that moment for true transformation.

And if your job, your life’s calling, is to disappear so that what is needed in the space can rise…
If your job is to guide people not to the answers within you but rather, within themselves…

How can you conflate that with the formula of becoming a guru everyone worships and seeks answers from?

You cannot.


Your ultimate destiny is to become nothing. Disappear. Dissolve.


I am back in this room at my retreat, on break. The weekend is over. The women are walking out of the big wooden doors of the house and onto the grass. I watch as they chat away with each other, leaning in. They look as if they are about to walk off into the blue expanse of the sky, hand in hand. Each woman here is a leader now, deeply seated in her gifts. Capable of resourcing her own self. Accessing her own answers.

I am no longer feeling like I am doing something wrong.

I am enjoying watching them lean into each other. Give each other advice. I am watching each one of these women in her power, sharing her own gifts and in doing so, being the expert of her own dominion.

I am sitting back in my big chair with a smile on my face.

Congratulations, says my soul. They don’t need you. You are not “important”.
They don’t feel like they need to be around you to tap into their own power.
You did your job right.

You see, I realized that I was never meant to follow that formula in the first place, the one I learned. I have been realizing this for years.

I am not here to become the guru. I am here to model disappearing.

I am not here to be seen as this world demands we be seen — the one with the answers on the pedestal with the mic in hand.

Instead I am here to be a stand and a mirror for those intangible gifts of the Priestess that have been undervalued for so long.

Holding space.
Moving energy.

I am here to be brave and hold those gifts plainly for all to see as I show up without pretense. Without all the answers. Not doing it the way we’re told we have to do it.

I am here not to teach but to point others back to the teacher within.
I am here not to “do” but to be.
I am here not to be seen but to express from the deep joy of my being.
I am here not to gain fans but to connect with the soul community of those I am here to serve.
I am here not to put my true soul gifts aside because they are not tangible, but instead to show that these gifts create financial success just like blueprints do and are worthy.

I am here to do all of this not for me, but for that woman who is standing in an uncomfortable dress on a stage doing what she was told to do to make money. So that she can see that she can do it a different way, the way her soul desires it. What her heart is truly longing to do, is possible. And that she will survive.

I am not here to be seen as “something” as this world that worships the tangible defines it.
I am here to be serve as a lighthouse for those who are here to heal the world through dissolving their egos and pouring every cell of their being into serving the present moment.

And if you’re reading this, and you’re moved, I know that is you, too.


Your ultimate destiny is to become nothing. Disappear. Dissolve.


Beloved one, I’d love to hear from you below. How did this resonate? Are you here to “be nothing” too? Post in the comments below.

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How to be more powerful

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If I were to ask you what power is, what would you say? I asked this at one of my retreats recently and it was fascinating to see how negatively and fearfully we view power. Yet at the same time how much we want it.

But what if I were to tell you that what you’ve been taught power is, is actually not what power is at all. And what if I were to tell you that you don’t actually have to “step into power”?

If you’ve ever felt like you wish you had more power to change the world, create what you desire, be the person you want to be and more… then you’ll want to listen to today’s audio.

It’s a 6 minute snippet from a private coaching retreat I led for some 1:1 clients and you can listen in below.

After you listen today, I’d love to hear from you below — what is ONE thing you’re going to do to go within today, so that you can step more into your own power?

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Fear. Following Your Calling. And Making Money

Fear. Following Your Calling. And Making Money

A client asked me recently, on a coaching call, this question: I have so many ideas for what I want to do, but I can’t decide which one I should pick. So I feel paralyzed and I don’t move ahead or make a decision. Then on top of that, every time I start speaking about what I love to my community, my throat tenses up and it’s hard to speak about it. I feel so confused about why this is happening, what I should focus on and how I should market the things I love to do in a way that reaches people and makes money. What if what I love to do doesn’t make money?

I suddenly felt my higher self tapping on my shoulder and saying “let me take over, I’ve got some stuff to say”. I call her “Her” and she tends to speak more bluntly that I normally do when she channels on through. I spent 15 minutes coaching my client on this and afterwards everyone on the call said it was one of the most powerful coaching calls for them.

So I edited that portion of the private coaching call, edited it to leave my client’s responses out and just left the parts where I channeled through what she needed to hear. It’s now an 11 minute audio. If you’ve ever wondered the same as my client above and have always wanted to be a fly on the wall during one of my private coaching calls, then listen to the audio below.

Here’s what you can expect from the audio snippet:

  • The difference between soul based marketing and traditional marketing
  • How to attract the right people to your work with energetic transmission vs. manipulative tactics
  • How “earthing” allows you to send a powerful beam of energy out to your ideal clients
  • Why fancying it up can be overcomplicated and a form of self-sabotage
  • Why asking “will this make money?” automatically blocks your abundance
  • The difference between “hole fillers” and “paradigm shifters”
  • Busting up the belief that transformational work “doesn’t make as much money”
  • How to stop feeling like you have to prove yourself or convince other people to like you

Once you’re done listening to it, I’d LOVE to know in the comments below: what did you get out of this? Any aha’s? Please let me know below. We love hearing from you!

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An amulet. An invocation. Calling back your power.

An amulet. An invocation. Calling back your power.

I read a story a long time ago, in the book “Woman Warrior: A girlhood among ghosts” by Maxine Hong Kingston. The book was so powerful for me that I wrote my thesis in college on some of its themes. The book is an autobiography of sorts in which Maxine tells the story of reclaiming her wholeness and her true identity while growing up in two different cultures with contradictory messages about women.

There was one story in particular, that she told about her mother’s past growing up in rural China. Her mother would tell her these wild and spectacular stories about her childhood. One of the most powerful stories in the book is about how her mother, as a young girl, is possessed by an evil spirit that lands on her chest and won’t let her breathe. The women living in the house with her begin to whisper her name and the names of all her ancestors over and over into her ear. The purpose? They believed that by doing this they would call her soul back to her after this “attack” she had experienced from this evil spirit.

And then later, as I learned about shamanism, I read how shamans will whisper someone’s name during trance into their ear to call all the fragmented pieces of their soul that were left along the way of living a life, back into the body.

And I knew. I knew what they were talking about. Completely.


This is an old photograph of me. 19. On a trip I took with my family to see the lands from which parts of my ancestry came. Where I stood in the church my great great grandmother was married in. And walked past skulls and bones of lives long forgotten, pushed into crevices in the walls when the church ran out of space. Creaking stairs with bone fragments crushed under our feet as we climbed the stairs to the turret.

Where I felt the pain of mistakes my predecessors made. Selling a beautiful piece of land on a cliff overlooking the ocean for quick, cheap money. A vision of growing old on that cliff in a little house, writing, slipping away from my hands. Letting old historical buildings fall into disrepair. Feeling the pain of the misgivings of people who are long gone while their choices linger for generations.

I remember a lot of things about this woman here. She was desperately trying to hang on to things she loved while being consistently resisted by a family member who suffered from narcissism and constantly cut her dreams down. She felt like a sprout trying to push through soil that was hard, mercurial, unwelcoming and rocky.

Right before the picture was taken she was told to push her shoulders up a bit, so that her stomach looked flat. Don’t let them see the tiny soft roll on your belly. No matter how thin I ever was, my stomach always wanted to be a soft place for a weary head to land.

The necklace she is wearing was one of the last ways she could rebel. It was her amulet of resistance. There was a family member on this trip with her. The one who had been appointed to be her greatest teacher, through pain, abuse and suffering. Through giving love and then taking it away. Through highest praises and sharpest criticisms just seconds later. The one who was so afraid of the power of this girl’s light, she didn’t know any other way to handle it other than to crush it in every way possible. It was a fucked up form of protection. It was a fucked up way to show love. But it was all she knew how to do.

This family member kept criticizing its ugliness the entire trip. She had bought it with her own money, even while this family member told her it was ‘weird” as the cash register rung. Ca Ching. That sound was the music of a tiny freedom she could claim for herself. Every time she wore it, her family member mentioned it’s oddness. Determined to take the last vestige of her own individual self away from her. The girl in the picture wore it stubbornly as the only symbol of resistance and sovereignty she had the strength to hang on to at that time.

She was on their dime on this trip, after all. She had to “behave”. She had to keep up appearances in the town where her ancestors came from, when they were welcomed.

In reality, she wanted to rip all her clothes off and run through the fields with the cows grazing. Sit and drink a beer with the laughing, wrinkly locals while watching people walk by on the street, get mud all over her legs and face as she baptized herself with the molecules from which her blood came. Instead, she went along with the itinerary. Longingly looking out at little towns she’d never get a chance to get lost in from the back seat of her car.

She was waiting to be free.

She did not know yet the power she possessed. She had big, big dreams. Of writing. Of inspiring others. Of being lost in gardens in England covered in mazes of roses, dreaming the day away by a river while observing a piece of grass, then writing poems about its intricacies. Of helping others overcome and believe in themselves with her words.

She thought she was “fat”. Felt shame and guilt over every morsel she enjoyed on her trip. Her family member’s eyes watching the fork leaving the plate and entering her mouth. Felt too large for everything around her, in every way.

She was trying so hard to win their approval. To be seen. To be loved as she was. But she had to keep bending to get the love she needed, like all humans learn to do. It was scraps and little sips of water but at least it was something. She was always settling for what she was told she could have with a sigh in her chest and a fire of resentment growing bigger by the minute.

But when she looked at those mountains behind her, she felt and tasted the possibility of another life calling to her from across the ocean. She saw herself walking among those fields, finally fully embodied. Comfortable in her skin. Belonging.

She felt her wanderlust awaken. She spoke the words in her heart to the wind. She heard her soul say to her: be brave. Trust your knowing. Be big. Be bold. Keep going.

She wanted the moment to be marked. So she could remember. She asked for the picture. Even while holding her stomach in as she held in the wild, unruly messy parts, the dangerous softness of her heart, something was born in her. A hope that there could be something different. Something that could be all hers, just the way she liked it. Just the way it felt good to her soul and down to her bones.

She listened.

She is still on that journey. She is still mastering the art of being a Soul Whisperer. Still learning her desires are worthy of being named and lived. Still building freedom upon freedom. Still fighting for the authentic and full expression of all beings.

On that day, this picture marked the beginning of a journey that is still ongoing.


I am still reclaiming what was lost from all the generations before me.
I am still calling my power back, my soul back, every day.
I am calling back the sovereignty that my ancestors dealt away in a myriad of ways.
I am calling back the wildness, the lust for being IN the world, for mud on legs and faces, for wine and orgasms after late and long dinners, for daydreaming and wild hope burning in the heart.
I am calling back the exhilaration of not knowing.
I am calling back the light of daydreams.
I am calling back the reverence of pleasure.
I am calling back the right to feel good in one’s skin, a luscious sensuality in the curve of one’s thigh and hip.
I am calling back the wisdom of appetites and the holiness of lust.
I am calling back the right to say “this was my experience” and for that to be valid and true.

I am still calling it all back. To make the lost found. For me. For all of us.
May this heal the stories of all that came before us.
May this birth new generations who know how to truly be free.


My love, I’d love to know what this brought up for you and how this resonated. I really love to hear from you in the comments below.


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Integrity. Do you have it? Are you in it?


We hear this phrase all the time “she’s not in integrity.” Or “that’s not in integrity for me.” But truly, what does that actually mean? Whenever I ask people what integrity means to them, I get a variety of answers: they do what they say they’re going to do. They are honest. They don’t lie.

Those answers are partially right, but they don’t encompass the full picture of what integrity means. Though integrity sounds like a boring word for intellectuals, it’s actually the key to creating what you want in life and in your work. It’s the foundation for EVERYTHING. And I do mean EVERYTHING.

So, are you sure you’re in integrity and that you have it? Do you know the real meaning of integrity? You might be surprised once you watch the little 8 minute video I made for you about this topic. It’s right below.

What does “being in integrity” actually mean? The real meaning is really important.

Posted by Lisa Fabrega on Wednesday, March 1, 2017


So what did you determine from watching this video? Are you in integrity? Where are you out of it? Let me know in the comments below!

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