How Eden got here
I was born into a world shaped by both tragedy and awakening. The youngest of seven children, I entered a family forever changed by the sudden loss of my brother, who was killed in a hit-and-run at the age of 12. My mother, a deeply intuitive woman, had seen a shadowy presence above him in the days leading up to his death, but she dismissed it—assuming that if he hadn’t noticed it, perhaps it wasn’t real. That event cracked open the doorway to the unseen, leading my parents into a world of astrology, past-life readings, and spiritual exploration. By the time I arrived eight years later, I was raised in a home where mysticism was woven into daily life. My mother taught me how to read astrology charts before I could fully grasp their meaning, and spirituality was never something I needed to seek out—it was simply part of who I was.
Even with this foundation, I didn’t always believe I could live as a professional mystic. Instead, I channeled my spiritual essence into the performing arts, becoming a professional ballerina. Dance was a moving meditation for me, a way to express the soul through form. I traveled extensively, performing across the U.S. and even studying in Russia. Through those journeys, I saw the universal longing within humanity—every person, regardless of nationality, seeks to be seen, understood, and fulfilled. These experiences deepened my understanding of connection, but I still hadn’t fully embraced my calling.
At the age of eight, I had a knowing—I was meant to be the one to care for my parents at the end of their lives. That moment came in 2019 when my father called, saying he couldn’t handle my mother’s decline alone. Without hesitation, I moved back to my hometown of Chicago, and for two years, I became their full-time caregiver. Those years were sacred. I held space for them, not only in their physical care but in their emotional and spiritual transition. When my mother passed in February of 2021, I had a vivid lucid dream where I was with her, reviewing her life. The same shadowed entity she had seen before my brother’s death was there once again, as if completing an unseen cycle. Three months later, when my father passed, I saw its reflection in the blank screen of a TV. I knew then that my soul contract with them had been fulfilled.
After their passing, I continued my work with the dying, serving as a hospice chaplain—though, in truth, I was a mystic disguised as a chaplain. I helped people find peace in their final moments, guiding them to embrace the unknown with courage. Holding space at the threshold of life and death, I witnessed the profound beauty of transition and the resilience of the soul.
But life had its own lessons for me, too. In 2018, an unexpected and deeply challenging chapter unfolded. I spent a long time navigating the rigors of publicly being canceled.
Through years of sustained underground healing, I learned what true resilience is. I learned that even in the darkest depths, divinity never abandons us. I walked through the fire and emerged knowing, with absolute certainty, that my mission is to guide others through their own darkness. I am here for those who feel like they have lost themselves, who believe they have no value, who stand on the edge of hopelessness. My purpose is to help them remember—who they are, why they are here, and the light that has never stopped shining within them.
My work now is a reflection of my own journey. I use Tarot, not as a tool of prediction, but as a mirror for self-awareness. I guide clients through energetic healing, helping them release old patterns and reclaim their power. I interpret dreams, unlocking the messages the subconscious is trying to reveal. And I create a space where people can rediscover their sovereignty, knowing that they are not alone in their struggles.
If I have learned anything, it is this: The light within us is untouchable. No matter how much darkness surrounds us, if we stay in relationship with the divine, we cannot be consumed. We are meant to shine—not just for ourselves, but for each other. My life has brought me through storms I never imagined I could survive, but now, I stand unwavering, ready to help others remember their own strength.
I know what it feels like to be at the bottom, to feel like everything has been taken. And I know that it is possible to rise—not just survive, but thrive. My work is about that rising, that returning, that remembering. And if you find yourself in that dark space, know that you are not alone. The light is still within you. Let’s find it together.
