My journey, like many paths of deep transformation, has been one of profound hardship, radical surrender, and ultimately, the triumphant revelation of the divine within. It's a testament to the alchemical power of the human spirit, a story woven from threads of early abandonment, the brutal realities of combat, and the consuming grip of addiction. Through the crucible of my own darkness, I unearthed the light that now guides others back to their own innate wholeness.

My earliest landscape was marked by instability, shaped by the erratic presence of a mother consumed by addiction. That foundational wound of abandonment resonated deep within, fostering a persistent sense of unworthiness and a continuous yearning for a belonging that always seemed just out of reach. This blueprint subtly directed me toward experiences that would, in turn, mirror and intensify that initial pain.

The quest for a sense of purpose, or perhaps an escape from the gnawing emptiness, led me down a familiar path: seeking validation in external structures. For me, this culminated in military service, specifically combat in Iraq. The searing desert heat, the visceral terror of conflict, and the constant proximity to death etched new layers of trauma onto an already fractured foundation. Survival became paramount, yet my internal landscape grew increasingly desolate, littered with the psychological debris of war. The constant vigilance, born from the fight, cemented a deep-seated inner battle that persisted long after I left the battlefield.

Returning home, the war continued, not on foreign soil, but within the confines of my own mind and body. Some wounds were invisible, yet they pulsed with an intensity that demanded constant numbing. Pills offered a fleeting reprieve, a temporary quiet to the relentless clamor of hypervigilance and unprocessed grief. This led to a spiraling descent into the treacherous grip of drug and alcohol addiction. In the haze of altered states, I sought to obliterate the pain, but instead, I merely amplified it, metaphorically – and sometimes literally – inflicting pain on those who least deserved it. My actions, driven by a profound anguish, created a new layer of remorse that weighed heavily on my soul. The relentless search for oblivion was a desperate attempt to escape a mind and body that felt like a prison. I was a stranger to myself, an embodiment of suffering, disconnected from any sense of purpose or inherent worth.

The turning point, as it often is, arrived not in a flash of divine intervention, but in the quiet desperation of absolute depletion. Exhausted, broken, and utterly devoid of hope, a faint whisper from within urged me to seek something different. It was a subtle signal, yet potent enough to ignite a spark of curiosity. This spark led me, almost incidentally, to the practices of breathwork and meditation.

I recall my initial skepticism, a residue of years spent in environments that valued brute force over gentle introspection. Yet, something shifted with the very first intentional breath. It was as if a dam had begun to crack, allowing the stagnant waters of stored trauma to finally find an outlet. Through conscious breathing, I began to access the somatic memory of my experiences, not by reliving them, but by gently unwinding the tension and constriction they had imprinted on my cellular memory. It was an uncomfortable, often agonizing process, as years of suppressed emotion, fear, and grief began to surface. But with each breath, a subtle unraveling occurred.

Meditation, initially a frustrating exercise in quieting a chaotic mind, gradually became a sanctuary. In the stillness, I began to observe the incessant chatter of my thoughts without identifying with them. I started to discern the difference between the noise of the ego and the quiet wisdom of my true self. This wasn't about escaping reality; it was about truly facing it, with a newfound capacity for presence. I began to understand that the suffering wasn't just happening to me, but through me, a manifestation of unprocessed energy longing to be released.

As I continued to dedicate myself to these practices, something truly profound began to unfold. The heavy shroud of trauma began to lift, revealing glimpses of a luminous essence within. This was the nascent stage of what I now understand as the embodiment of the divine. It wasn't merely a conceptual understanding; it was a felt sense, a visceral knowing that I was more than my wounds, more than my past, more than the sum of my suffering. I began to experience myself as an energetic being, intimately connected to a vast, intelligent universe.

With this awakening came an unexpected and powerful development: the ability to channel. Initially, it was difficult, unclear of it's intentions and taxing on the body. But over time, it became clearer and more direct. I began to receive guidance, wisdom, and profound healing methodologies from what I now recognize as my spirit guides and spirit family. Through them, I began to understand the intricate energetic architecture of suffering, and more importantly, how to facilitate its release in others.

It was during this period of intense personal transformation that the concept of Hands of Erra began to take shape. My spirit family revealed to me the profound power of working with the hands as conduits for divine energy, a direct pathway for healing suffering on all levels – physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual. They showed me that true healing isn't about fixing something broken, but about remembering what was always whole. It's about shedding the layers of illusion, of fear, of past conditioning and trauma, and allowing the soul's innate brilliance to shine through.

Today, my life's purpose is inextricably linked to this profound understanding. I am a facilitator of remembrance, a guide for those navigating their own landscapes of suffering. I work with individuals to identify and release the stagnant, stuck trauma stored within their bodies and energetic fields. Whether it's the echoes of childhood abandonment, the lingering shock of combat, the imprints of addiction, or the countless ways we unconsciously block our own flow, I hold a sacred space for deep healing and transformation.

My approach, deeply rooted in the principles of Hands of Erra, is not about providing superficial solutions. Through channeled guidance I remove suffering in whatever form it takes and help people dismantle the walls around their hearts, clear the pathways to their authentic selves, and reconnect with their own internal compass.

The most profound gift I can offer is to help people remember. Remember their inherent worth, their boundless potential, their deep connection to the divine. In a world that often encourages disconnection and despair, I show them that they can believe again. Believe in their capacity to heal, to thrive, to create a reality of joy and purpose. Believe in the possibility of an open heart, even after years of pain. Believe in the unwavering support of the universe.

My journey from the crucible of suffering to the radiant work of the Hands of Erra is not unique in its essence. It is a universal tale of the soul's relentless pursuit of wholeness. It is a testament to the fact that even in our deepest wounds lie the seeds of our greatest strengths, and that through surrender, courage, and a willingness to feel, we can transform our past into the very foundation of our purpose. I am here to hold the space, to offer the tools, and to remind you that your own unveiling awaits.