How Esther got here
For most of my thirties, I was a prosecutor who loved her job and was quietly falling apart. If anyone asked what I did outside of work, I'd panic internally — because the honest answer was nothing. Just work, and the particular kind of exhaustion that comes from ignoring almost everything about yourself that doesn't fit the role you've taken on.
The illness came gradually, then constantly. Infections, antibiotics, months lost. A friend finally said: you're too young to be this sick. That landed.
I started looking — yoga, meditation, Reiki, an angel channeler I found by some accident and began calling on a phone in the years before any of this moved online. I didn't understand much of what she said. But I noticed I felt better after every session. My cat would climb onto me during the calls and stay there, purring. That was evidence enough to keep going.
What I eventually understood was that I'd been looking exclusively outside myself — at what my parents wanted, what society expected, what my peers were doing — and treating my own sensitive, creative nature as a problem to be managed rather than a thing to be honored.
I drew patterns compulsively as a child. I went to India at seventeen as a Rotary exchange student and came back changed in ways I couldn't fully name. None of that fit the shape I was trying to pour myself into.
The channeling found me through a course in 2021. As soon as I started the automatic writing, I recognized it — I'd been doing some version of it for years without language for what it was.
The beings I channel, who've asked me to call them Your Team of Light, are patient and precise and consistently loving. Even mid-session, I'm sometimes on the edge of my seat waiting to hear what comes next.
What I bring now is the whole strange combination: the attorney's ability to take a bird's-eye view and name what's actually happening beneath the surface, the channeled guidance that shifts perspective from the inside out, and the drawing practice that gives the analytical mind something to do while the rest of you catches up.
I work with people who are stuck at a decision point and can't quite trust themselves to move. I'm built to hold that space — really hold it — for as long as it takes.