A big problem [we identify them as their body. they were so much more]
How most people solve it [we just don’t realize what Love really is]
Why that doesn’t work [our brain knows they still exist, and it’s confusing and painful]
How you can solve it by Allowing.Love™ [reconnect with inner essence]
My experience [connecting with fenix’ inner essence now]
My step by step guide [letter]
Reconnecting with a loved one who has passed isn’t just healing—it’s revolutionary. And it’s tender. And weird. And beautiful. And like trying to play the violin for the first time—it might feel awkward, unnatural, even wrong at first. That’s okay.
Just like learning any new skill, this takes time. But I truly believe it’s one of the most worthwhile things you’ll ever do.
I believe this kind of sacred reconnection is part of why we’re here—to let love crack us open so fully that we begin to glimpse the truth that lies beyond this physical world.
If you're reading this, you already know how deep love can go. You already know the heartbreak of loss. But what you may not fully see yet is: your grief is sacred. It proves just how courageous your love really was.
Because loving anything fully—a person, a dog, a garden, a life—is always a risk. Whether we know it or not, loving says, I trust that I’ll survive when this ends.
When my mum died, I was just a child. And while I couldn’t process it at the time, my body and soul made a decision:
“I won’t survive this again.”
It wasn’t conscious. But it shaped my life.
After losing my mum, I spent years unknowingly running from love. On the surface, I was living. But deep down, I was protecting myself from ever loving that fully again.
For most of my twenties and early thirties, I obsessively fell for unavailable men. Men who didn’t love me back. Men who weren’t good for me. Because deep down, I believed I wouldn’t survive real love. I wouldn’t survive the pain of losing someone like that again.
It took me decades—and a lot of courageous grief work—to uncover the unconscious belief I had been living from:
“I won’t love again, because I won’t survive being left again.”
And I’ll never forget the night that realization broke through.
I had just left my colleague’s house, someone I was completely in love with who didn’t love me back. I pulled over on the side of the road sobbing, cracking open with pain that felt far too big for the situation. That’s when I realized:
This isn’t just about him. This is about my mum.
And through tears and writing and letting Little Zoë take over my journal, I found myself writing:
“I’m never going to love again, Mum. Because I won’t survive this again.”
That was the moment everything began to change.
I didn’t just need to feel my feelings—I needed to express them. To say the things I never got to say. And more than anything, I needed to feel my Mum again. To reconnect with her.
Not just in my memory, but in a real way.
And what unfolded over the next several years became one of the greatest healing journeys of my life. I started writing to her. Talking to her. Meditating and listening for her presence. And eventually, I felt her again—really felt her.
That same love, that same warmth, that same wisdom. I realized she had never really left. She was just waiting for me to find her in a new way.
I was 22 years old when it happened.
I had been meditating for several years and studying with my spiritual teacher, but still, I wasn’t expecting what came through. I had just come home from work, exhausted and emotional. And then, like a soft waterfall of white light, I felt my mum’s love.
It filled my whole being.
And I heard her voice: “We are one.”
Not just her and me. All of us. Every soul. Every being. Every drop of life.
It felt like my Mum planted a seed in my soul—one I wouldn’t fully grow into for many years. But the way it opened me, even then, became a guiding light on my spiritual path.
Over time, I developed a sacred inner space I now call my Rainbow Sanctuary. It’s a place I go in my imagination where I can reconnect with my loved ones who have passed—especially Ellie and my mum.
This isn’t about pretending or false hope—and it’s definitely not just a feel-good idea. There’s growing evidence that our mind-body connection is real and profound. What we vividly imagine and emotionally experience can create actual, measurable change in our physiology—just as powerfully as things that happen in the physical world. Reference: The Power of Mental Imagery on Health & Healing
Science shows us again and again that the brain doesn’t distinguish between what we imagine vividly and what we physically experience. Whether it’s athletes visualizing winning a race, or us imagining biting into a lemon and literally salivating—our brains and bodies respond to what we feel as real.
So when I hold Little Zoë in my arms in my sanctuary, when I snuggle Ellie or talk with my mum there, something real happens. My nervous system shifts. My heart softens. My inner world heals.
This kind of imagination isn’t fantasy—it’s a sacred doorway to healing and reconnection. It’s how we rewire our brains with love, safety, and truth. It’s how our soul remembers what the mind forgets. It’s a bridge to the love that never left.
You don’t need to be psychic.
You don’t need to believe in angels or the afterlife.
You only need to be willing to try.
Reconnection isn’t about proving anything. It’s about feeling love again. It’s about restoring the bond that grief temporarily frayed. And it doesn’t always happen right away. Your nervous system might need time. Your heart might need space.
And that’s okay.
If you can’t feel them yet—trust that the door is still there. And when you’re ready, they’ll meet you at it.
Before we move into two-way communication (which we’ll explore in the next chapter), the most important step you can take right now is simply this:
Write them a letter.
Say it all.
The good, the bad, the messy, the beautiful.
If you’re holding anger—say it.
If you’re heartbroken—let it out.
If you miss them—write it with your whole heart.
Writing without the intention of sending is a powerful form of healing. And when you’re writing to someone who’s crossed the Rainbow Bridge, it’s not just healing—it’s sacred.
It’s okay if the words don’t come easily. Just start. Let your heart speak. This letter is for you, too.
Your loved one will feel every word. Because love never dies. And neither does your bond.
In the next experience, I’ll guide you step-by-step into creating your own Rainbow Sanctuary—your own sacred inner space where healing, love, and reconnection can blossom.
It may take time. It may take patience. But I promise you—it’s worth it.
Because this isn’t just about grief.
It’s about transformation.
And it’s not about letting go of your Rainbow One—it’s about letting go of the form you once knew them in, so you can meet them again, in a new way.
Not as a memory.
But as a living presence in your heart.
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