Forging Faith

Direct Experience of the Divine

The messages in Forging Faith are provocative and profound. They carry within them a high-vibrational energy that deepens the reader's experience with the text. People tell me that something happens to them energetically when they read the book. I am convinced that they are experiencing the divine. Ultimately, we are all here to affirm our faith despite our fears and to overcome the self-indulgence of our security oriented ego. This book makes it possible - and even practical. It is a sourcebook for accessing our Source. Leaps of faith are not easy. They require us to jump into the unknown with no guarantees - and often no idea - of what the result will be. You may ask, Why would anyone do such a thing? Isn't that patently irresponsible and supremely irrational? It is, unless you are serving spirit with your actions. It is, unless you have faith that you are being guided to do so by a benevolent, unseen power. It is, unless you have the capacity to surrender the outcome of your leap of faith to God. Interestingly, the most risk-free decision you can make is to walk the path of light and love. When you do that, spirit cannot not walk beside you. And when spirit walks beside you, you will have and achieve everything that you need. It is when you don't totally trust that you will get your needs met that you hedge your bets. You mitigate the downside risks, reduce your exposure to loss and create contingency plans. Every time you do that, you are serving yourself rather than spirit. Believe me, I know. Fifteen years ago I was living in Berkeley and commuting to San Francisco, where I worked at a large international consulting firm. Every morning I took the carpool across the Bay Bridge into the city. When we got to Treasure Island, in the middle of the bay, I would think to myself, "OK. I'm no longer a Berkeley resident who burns Nag Champa incense and goes to meditation intensives on weekends. I am now a professional woman working in the financial district who has a desk with a forty-eighth floor view overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge." I might have had Birkenstocks and a Burberry's trench coat in my closet, but essentially they were for two different people. I had established a line of demarcation between my work self and my personal self. The Bay Bridge was the umbilical cord between the two. At Treasure Island I cut the cord, leaving one self-definition behind and donning the other one. I did that for years. The two primary facets of my being were so far apart, integrating them seemed impossible. So I lived a divided life. What has changed for me? Now I cannot fathom being just a management consultant or a mystic, one at a time. I am both. I have integrated the two. Granted, I don't conduct psychic readings in the middle of corporate board meetings, and I don't do financial analyses during my author appearances. (Although the primary question I am asked these days is what will happen with the stock market.) Most of the time the mystic and the corporate consultant in me engage in an intriguing improvisational dance. And consequently, I am more effective in both arenas. My deceased father was the catalyst for my awakening. It transpired as I was writing messages communicated through him from the other side of the veil. Initially I tried to maintain the chasm I had created between my mysticism and my consulting. It seemed safer and less risky that way. But, of course, that was impossible. I couldn't go public as a mystic with a series of seven books and then pretend that they didn't exist when I was working with my corporate clients. One morning as I was struggling with this, Dad whispered in my ear, "You are a mystic and a management consultant. Better get used to it." Happily, I have, thanks to him.