As I close my eyes, I begin to listen—to the images in my mind, the beginning of pulsating waves curling and rolling in every direction. My mind moves with the darkness, and hands of light reach through, almost like staring into the vast blackness of the universe—unknowing, yet open to the energy and movement within that space.

Open, without blocking the potential for magic to occur.

The idea that unknowing versus knowing is half the battle—how often do we block ourselves from learning or experiencing beyond what we think we know? We can miss opportunities that lie just outside our definitions. By putting a cap on what we’re willing to see, we limit growth—mind, body, and soul.

We hold tight to our expectations of who we are supposed to be, but those very expectations can diminish us, cutting us off from the possibility of becoming more. What if we just considered the idea of magic? Something we can’t explain. Something we might hear but not comprehend—because we’re always asking for proof, certainty, reassurance. We’re afraid to abandon what we think we know for the unknown.

But that fear keeps us stuck.

It keeps us holding on—when what we really need is to let go.

Letting go allows us to experience more, beyond the limitations we place on ourselves in the name of protection. Especially when we’ve endured trauma—physical or emotional—it’s understandable to want to guard ourselves. But in doing so, we sometimes look outside of ourselves for answers, instead of trusting that leap of faith.

The trust that says: You will be held. You won’t fall. And even if you do, you’ll rise again.

I’ve attended lectures where profound gurus spoke Sanskrit translations about the secrets of the world and the essence of being human. Naturally, people have questions—we scribble furiously, trying to capture the “wisdom.” And yet, the guru often gives the same answer:

“Let it go… because you’ll all be skulls anyway.”

He laughs gently, reminding us that if we lose connection, if we feel lost, just return to ourselves. Hold your breath… boo. Then—surprise yourself. Remember you’re alive. Check in with your Self, because you are the center of your universe.

You—your soul, spirit, essence—are an extension of God, of the universe, whether you’re aware of it or not. You’re made of energy and matter, just like the stars and the earth. We hover between the conscious and the unconscious. And yet, much of what we call “life” is given to us as a story—a construct. A cookie-cutter template to fit everyone into the same mold.

Square. Square. Square. Stay in your box.

These are your limits. These are the rules. Test them, and there will be consequences.

I remember feeling so frustrated, personally, having ambition and drive and a mission to help people. I felt like a superhero child—gifted, miraculous. My nickname was even Angel. Ironically, my name—Joanna—means “gift of God.” My middle name translates to “sweet danger.” My last name is Gates. Joanna Maculey Gates.

I’ve been told by several psychics that I’m technically an alien—that I didn’t want to come here, but I had a mission. They said I fought with the spirits, and I agreed to come on 9/11/77. I was born a month late, upside down, because of that fight.

Diagnosed with childhood cancer on my 6th birthday, 9/11 is also the date of my survival and recovery. My birthday is a reminder of my fight, my mission, my purpose—to share my experience, to move beyond the box placed upon me (and so many others), and the expectations that keep us limited.

We are afraid—afraid of kind, free-spirited, loving people simply being themselves. But through art, creativity, imagination, music—we can transform. We can rise together in collective consciousness, in love. Not the kind you buy in a store, or find in someone else. But the kind you generate yourself.

Love is created.

It’s energy. It’s connection. It’s memory. It’s meaning. And it looks different for everyone. It might be a red heart on paper. It might be a word—L-O-V-E. But it holds infinite, personal meaning.

When I work with clients, I help them use art and imagination to transform their journeys—to break down and simplify life’s complexities. We make the process easier by filling it with joy. Like the song says: These are a few of my favorite things… What empowers you? What makes you smile? And what does that smile feel like?

Can you express it in words? Can I draw an image from my mind to yours and say, This is what love looks like?

Can I make a sound and tell you, This is what it feels like?

We are all on our own Hero’s Journey. We’ve all experienced trauma, loss, and challenges. Not everyone has reached self-actualization yet—but through my teachings and coaching, I empower others to believe in themselves. I hand them the metaphorical magic wand.

You are more than what you think you are. You are not your cookie-cutter story.

I remember being told by a Science of Mind church:

“Who told you?”

Who told you that belief? That limit? That truth?

What if it’s not your truth?

Was it your teacher? A textbook? The Board of Behavioral Sciences? They gave me a license number. A piece of paper. Data and statistics. But who was I to them?

No one. Just a number. So, I left.

I realized I couldn’t change them—but I could change myself. And through that choice, I found transformation. Enlightenment. Self-actualization. Growth.

My parents didn’t raise me religious. I struggled with the concept of prayer. My mom was hit with a wooden spoon on the way to church. “Do what God says,” or Santa won’t bring you toys. My father thought Santa was the Antichrist. He found his faith through Alan Watts, who became a mentor to him at 14 when his own father left.

Our mentors shape us—but we don’t have to let them define us completely. We can absorb, assimilate, and alchemize those experiences into who we truly are, instead of cutting them off.

Western medicine and mental health often aim to “fix the parts,” instead of healing the whole. I know this intimately. I’ve had fatal childhood illness, severe injuries, house-related trauma—and yet I amazed my doctors with how quickly I healed. I survived through optimism, mind over matter, perseverance, and sheer energy.

I’ve been told, “Don’t give it all away. Keep some for yourself.”

And that was the hardest lesson—to let others struggle, to let them grow on their own.

I can’t do it for them.

But I can share my story. Like the saying:

You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.

It’s not my job to save anyone. Just to be—and to share.

The brain, after all, doesn’t always know the difference between a dream and reality. If I told myself I went to the moon yesterday, I might believe it. And if I told you that, you might say I’m crazy. But why is it your responsibility to challenge my experience?

Let’s stop blocking others’ beliefs with skepticism.

Let’s stop fragmenting our healing.

We have the power to manifest, to create, to heal.

We are miracles. We are light.

We are love.