: to change (something) completely and usually in a good way
: to change in composition or structure
: to change the outward form or appearance of
: to change in character or condition : Convert
: to cause (a cell) to undergo genetic change



Transform (v.): mid-14th century, “change the form of,” from Old French transformer, from Latin transformarechange in shape, metamorphose,” from trans– “across” + formareto form.”

Form (v.): c. 1300, formen, fourmen, “create, give life to, give shape or structure to; make, build, construct devise,” from Old French formerformulate, express; draft, create, shape mold” (12c.) and directly from Latin formareto shape, fashion, build.”



“An awake heart is like a sky that pours light.”

Hafez (1310-1390, one of the most celebrated Persian poets)

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“As we enter the path of transformation, the most valuable thing we have working in our favor is our yearning.”

Cynthia Bourgeault (Modern day mystic, Episcopal priest, author of eight books, and long-time advocate of meditative practice of Centering Prayer)

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“Analysis does not transform consciousness.”

Jiddu Krishnamurti (1895-1986, international writer and speaker who spoke on the need for radical change in mankind; and regarded as one the greatest thinkers and religious teachers of all time.)

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“I take pleasure in my transformations. I look quiet and consistent, but few know how many women there are in me.”

Anais Nin (1903-1977, author born to Cuban parents in France, where she was also raised)

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“And these things
that keep alive on departure know that
you praise them; transient,
they look to us, the most transient,
to be their rescue.
They want us to change them completely,
in our invisible hearts,
into -- O endlessly -- us! Whoever,
finally, we may be.”

Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926, Bohemian-Austrian poet and novelist; and considered one of the best lyrical intense German-language poets, writing in both verse and highly lyrical prose)

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“Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place.”

Rumi (1207-1273, Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi, was a 13th-century Persian poet, jurist, Islamic scholar, theologian, and Sufi mystic.)

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“...I don't just wish you rain, Beloved - I wish you the beauty of storms...”

John J. Geddes (writer and author of the novel, A Familiar Rain)

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“In her novel, Regeneration, Pat Barker writes of a doctor who 'knew only too well how often the early stages of change or cure may mimic deterioration.’ Cut a chrysalis open, and you will find a rotting caterpillar. What you will never find is that mythical creature, half caterpillar, half butterfly, a fit emblem of the human soul, for those whose cast of mind leads them to seek such emblems. No, the process of transformation consists almost entirely of decay.”

Rebecca Solnit (b. 1961, writer who lives in San Franciso, California, and who has written on a variety of subjects, including the environment, politics, place, and art.)

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After I gave birth to Nick I stayed home from work for two years to take care of him. I was burnt out from work and suffering with postpartum depression.  But, ,I couldn’t talk very much about all that I was going through, especially back during that time.

I had the most amazing pediatrician, though, a veteran doctor in his 70s.  He knew I was suffering, and sometimes called to check up on the baby and me.  Also, he was a doctor who would sit by his phone 30 minutes each weekday morning so parents could call with questions.

Dr. Glaser was also a great diagnostician.  There were a few times when he told me to bring the baby straight to his office. But, most of the time, he told me to give Nick medicine, wrap him up, and take him outside.  The doctor’s prescription was not only for the baby, but for me too.

One snowy morning, with Nick all bundled-up in his stroller, we came upon a man walking towards us.  Once he passed us, the man turned and said, “I wish my wife would take his son outside!” That was when I knew that the outdoor elements would be our salvation.

Once Nick turned two years old I went back into the workforce and procured an entry-level position with a prestigious theater company. The salary was extremely low, but it felt good to be surrounded by smart creative people.

Patricia was one of those colleagues, provocative and brilliant, for whom I had a great deal of respect.  One day she talked about working with Christina, a shaman.  Something triggered me, and I got angry that she broached the subject.  I asked another colleague what a shaman was and she answered some type of guru.  None of it sat right with me.

I thought I was able to fleck it off until one day I barged into Patricia’s office to complain about something that made me angry.  She looked at me and said, “Tonya, you should go and see Christina.” Dumbfounded, I blinked, and then asked, “What’s her number?”

It was a mystery how I arrived in NYC’s Soho neighborhood, walked safe through the isolated streets at night, and then entered a low-lit building for single-room occupants.  When I knocked on the door a beautiful young white woman with long curly strawberry blond hair welcomed me with a great big smile into her one room flat.

I sat facing her while she asked questions and took notes like any good therapist would.  She thought for a moment and then said that my depression stemmed from me pushing down my anger of not be given the birth my son deserved.

Christina then asked me to lie down on the blanket she had on the floor. She put a tape on of a drum beat and laid down next to me and closed her eyes.

Suddenly, I was catapulted to a cave, and Christina was now an ancient Native American medicine woman with a long dark thick braid down her back.  She told me that my mother was there and all my grandmothers connected to me through my ancestral lines.  They were there to redo my labor and give birth to my son, this time in a sacred way.

That ritual was powerful, and for many weeks and months I got very emotional when I thought and talked about what took place.

That choice turned out to be the beginning of many transformational shifts that would forever change my life.

What are those pivotal moments of your life?  And what else needs to be transformed?

Godspeed, my friends.

Miraculously Yours, Tonya







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