Where it Began
When my mother was diagnosed with metastatic pancreatic cancer, three years ago, a profound stillness washed over me as my world tilted on its axis.
In that moment, it was as though two versions of me split apart. One was the devoted daughter, knowing her role as my mother in this lifetime was coming to a close, determined to cherish every moment and care for her until the very end.
The other was my Higher Self, invited to step in and bear witness: to record conversations, to write voraciously, and to anchor in presence rather than drown in grief.
The Flight
Inevitability
As I surrendered to the process instead of fighting it, something shifted. I began to see how deeply Western culture resists mortality, and how much force and friction we apply to the inevitable. The more I let go, the more my intuition rose to guide me.
Walking my mother so closely to the threshold of life and death unlocked something fundamental. I realised I no longer feared death. The only thing I feared was not living fully.
From that place I wrote the dedication to a book that did not yet have a title:
“To my beautiful mother, who gave birth to me twice.”
She brought me into this world, and in letting her go, she brought me home to myself.
Bali, the Voice, and Total Surrender
Following my mother’s passing, our family travelled to Bali to breathe and reconnect. The island seemed to envelop us in its loving arms, and I was struck by the Balinese connection to themselves, each other and the world around them.
During a session with renowned healer, Edwin Tan, I pressed record on my phone for my book. Something extraordinary happened: an intense, surging tingling and powerful pressure encircled my crown chakra—as though my physical body was plugging back in after a long slumber.
Back in New Zealand, I listened to the recording and heard something extraordinary. Woven into a sentence was my mother’s voice, saying a single word: “so”.
“so enjoy your life.”
Hearing her literal frequency was the moment I completely surrendered. I have been journeying into a deeper state of surrender ever since.
The Sign of the Bumblebee
Shortly after hearing her voice, in the depths of a freezing Wanaka winter, I stood by the lake longing for a sign my mother was with me.
Defying nature, a single bumblebee rose from the icy water and hovered beneath my nose. A quiet recognition rippled through me: I had guided her through her passing, and now, in a way I couldn’t explain, she was leading me.
Years later, looking closely at an old photograph of the flowers on her casket, I saw it for the first time: a fuzzy little creature nestled deep in the petals, waiting all this time for me to truly see.
The bumblebee became the bridge to her memory, the anchor for her frequency, and the sign that called me home to myself.
The journey
In the end, the bumblebee became the perfect mirror for my journey—and perhaps for yours, too.
The bumblebee seems to defy what its heavy body and small wings should allow, yet it rises anyway. We hold that same quiet power inside us. The moment we surrender—moving past the noise of the rational mind and dropping into our intuitive nature—we align with The Bumblebee Frequency.
This is where we reconnect with ourselves and the natural world around us. We open to the signs, tune into the synchronicities, and allow life to flow through us. It is in this exact frequency that magic lives and manifestation unfolds naturally.
Welcome home.
