How to Access Your Inner Sisterhood of Sovereignty

At this moment, we need Sovereignty like we never have before

Set aside all those political connotations you may have for this word. 

Your Sovereignty is your sacred sense of self.

Your Sovereignty is your sense of agency and your ability to exert a healthy measure of control over your thoughts, your actions, and your destiny. Your Sovereignty is your inviolable right to physical, emotional, and spiritual freedom. 

Hmm… is it possible to feel “free” in a time like this, when state after state and country after country goes into lock down?

Yes. My vision of Sovereignty has never had anything to do with that so-called American ideal of “rugged individualism.”

Your Sovereignty is at the root of your commitment to the collective.

In The Sovereignty Knot: A Woman’s Way to Freedom, Power, Love, and Magic I write…

Sovereign isn’t a synonym for solitary. It’s got nothing to do with isolationism. Though Sovereignty does have everything to do with independence, it has just as much to do with interdependence, too. Sovereignty is about relationships. Just remember that personal Sovereignty is an inside job and your relationship with yourself comes first. Always. Everything they say about “put on your oxygen mask first” and “you can’t pour from an empty cup” is true. The Sovereign woman does not lose herself in servitude when she serves others. Neither does she seek to rule in order to amplify her own glory. She does not do this work to get drunk with power. The mark of a true Sovereign is what she does to maintain her own energy even as she pays it forward, passing on her gifts in order to empower others to set out on their own path to Sovereignty. 

And yes, Sovereignty is more important than ever in this moment when one-third of Americans and one-fifth of the global population has been asked (or ordered) to stay home.

By submitting to the “control” of the state, and choosing to limit your own movements, you are embodying Sovereignty in a profound, necessary way.  You are using your power to root into where you are, supporting your community’s physical well-being in the only way you can if you’re not a first responder.

And what about your own well-being during this time of pandemic and isolation? How do you stay sane, strong, and focused in a time like this? How do you connect to those visions and ideals that were so important to you before so much of the world closed down?

(Because even though nothing will ever be the same, your dedication to bring more beauty and healing to this world remains unchanged.)

You commit to your own Sovereignty like you never have before.

You look to the Sisterhood of Sovereignty that always thrives within you.

In my book, The Sovereignty Knot, we “do” Sovereignty by understanding that we have the power to be the three archetypes of Sovereignty - the princess, the queen, and the wise woman. No matter how old you are, or how much you have achieved, you have all three of these forces within you. 

As I developed my ideas, I saw these parts of the self as part of a continuum, like the points of a trinity knot. These energies were present throughout my life and were part of my everyday. I grew to recognize when I was really embodying one energy or another or when I was unable to access the optimism of the princess, the power of the queen, or the peace of the wise woman.

In conversation with readers, especially during my visit to Michal Spiegelman’s Beacons of Change Community, it became clear that women saw the princess, queen, and wise woman as a Sovereignty Sisterhood.

And now, as we’re separated from our real-life sisters and the women who are like sisters who make up our lives - in the office, at the yoga studio, at school pick up - we look to this internal sisterhood to see us through…

The Sovereignty Sisterhood In the Face of Crisis

Three weeks ago when this Coronavirus was an abstract fear, I offered ideas about how to use the archetypes of Sovereignty to stand strong against the waves of fear that were washing against our shores.

Now that we’re in the midst of social distancing (with so much social media to fill in the gaps), we need to see the archetypes of Sovereignty in relationship to this changing landscape - both across our world and inside our own hearts.

The princess is hope. She is innovation.

The princess energy thrives in those who will come up with novel solutions to the shortages of medical equipment or disruptions in the food supply.

You are moving forward with your princess when you find new ways to serve and keep your business afloat in this economic crisis. Call on her to keep making beautiful things and moments despite the gloomy, discombobulated atmosphere.

The queen is leadership. She is managing the crisis.

The queen energy thrives in those who take to the podium and offer humility and useful information, even when so many of the details are still unclear.

You are leading with your queen when you get the supplies your family needs (but no more). Call on her as you you create a daily routine that sustains your household - at the body, heart, mind, and soul level.

The wise woman is calm. She is equilibrium.

The wise woman energy thrives in those who speak truth and offer counsel that rises above the noise.

You are emerging with your wise woman when you pause before you speak, even when you have cabin fever. Call on her as you you prioritize your own inner peace over obsessively listening to the latest news report or chilling statistic.

Let’s Make Sovereignty Real

Join me for a deep dive into the Sovereignty Sisterhood on Saturday, March 28 at 7 PM on Zoom.

This date was supposed to be the night of my first big book event in my hometown, but like everything else, that’s been postponed for the duration. And so, I get to invite the whole world to join me!

I’ll share some stories from the book help you embody your own archetypes of Sovereignty in this tangled time. I’ll be signing books and will ship them right out to you.

An Alternative Story for 2020's Very Strange St. Patrick's Day

This St. Patrick’s Day, when the pubs of Ireland, Boston, and New York are closed, travel from Europe is suspended, and the whole world is gripped in a terrible kind of uncertainty, I need to tell a story about the day I worked a magic spell while driving a tiny car down the left side of the road.

This story is proof that magic and Sovereignty are all around us, even when pandemic has disrupted life as we know it and we’re on the couch with a can of Guinness, wishing we were out at the pub with friends or taking a flight on Aer Lingus.

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It was an indifferent sort of Irish morning, a bit of gray sweater weather that didn’t necessarily promise sunshine or rain. It was enough for us. We were tourists with a warm, dry car who’d just had a full breakfast, complete with black pudding, fried up for us in a big house in County Mayo. The hospitality was a blessing to be sure, but we needed to be in Roscommon by noon. I wanted to get out of this twenty-first century castle and into the wilds. Someone was waiting for us, and he promised to show us a place that was at once the birthplace of the goddess and the gateway to hell.

When my aunt, my twenty-something cousin, and my eight-year- old daughter finally got into the car, I was tight lipped and silent. Every part of me was on the move—except my actual body that had to sit in the driver’s seat as everyone wedged their American luggage into a European car. With about four days of experience driving on the left side of narrow roads, I was finally ready to drive the speed limit—and exceed it. But with all the twists and turns and crowded main streets that stretched between us and the village of Tulsk, I realized that no amount of white-knuckle speeding (and “Oh, Jesus, Marisa, that was close!” comments) could get us there on time.

There was nothing to do but practice some magic.

I’d tried this before when I was back home in the Hudson Valley. Then, I’d wanted to save my daughter from that dreaded feeling of being the last one left at the curb. Do you remember the waves of rage and fear of abandonment that used to wash over you before you had a concept of traffic or understood that your mother had more to do than wait for you to be done with school? Those kid fears still burn in me, and I’d do a lot to save my girls from such experiences, but my worries about their righteous indignation was nothing compared to what I was feeling here on the N60 road. We were speeding to the place I was most eager and most afraid to explore, and I couldn’t stand to miss it just because my family needed to graze a table heavy with bacon and eggs and have just one more cup of tea.

And so, I started working on the underside of time.

My hands were on the steering wheel, but my fingers were actually wrapped around the knots of energy that lay beneath the surface of the earth. I was trying to find the strands of time and space that are layered beneath our understanding of the moment. I was tugging at the fabric of the universe, and though I had no idea what I was doing, somehow I understood exactly how it had to be done. Clearly, I was messing with something bigger than me, something that would have consequences. Though I’ve long been someone who likes to talk about magic, I have rarely gathered the courage or the focus to risk the doing of it. That’s the tricky thing about believing in magic—you’re also wise enough to be a little bit afraid of it, or at least in awe of it. If “magic is the art of changing consciousness at will,” I need to admit that I’m both excited and terrified of change and the mystery of consciousness. But then, Sovereignty relies on recognizing your own power to shift your experience by shifting your perceptions. The real trick of magic (and Sovereignty) is simply in believing you know how and then giving it a try.

Was I actually altering the space-time continuum as we sped to County Roscommon? Was there any risk of changing the distant future or somehow shortening my own life as I attempted to stretch and fold time on this particular April morning? Or was I just soothing my own frustrations with fantasies that I could use the power of my intentions to slow the clock or move the ponderous truck to the shoulder of the road?

All I know is that it worked.

Moira at Rathcroghan in Co. Roscommon, April 2018

Because I focused less on worry and more on magic, my family was spared the nasty sounding “hurry up” that welled in my throat. Added bonus: I felt like a sorceress (and proved myself to be a badass “wrong side of the road” driver). Most importantly, we ended up beating our guide to the meeting point and we were set for a day that would change my consciousness in powerful, lasting ways.

If you want to credit our peaceful, timely arrival to my self-control, luck, and coincidence, be my guest, but honestly, I think you get more out of calling it magic. This “what you see is what you get” perspective on the world never explains all the miracles, synchronicities, and sacred experiences we witness every blessed day. Stubborn pragmatism labels these moments of wonder and connection as mere whimsy, delusion, or child’s play, but that approach robs us of the best parts of being alive. Sovereignty is about rooting into real life and transforming suffering, division, and oppression. Sovereignty, as I choose to define and embody it, is also about conspiring with your imagination to reach spiritual depths and mysteries unseen.

As you come to believe in your own inherent power and get to know the Sovereignty archetypes that dwell within, you’ll realize that talking to goddesses and focusing energy on changing your own consciousness in order to change the world is more potent than sheer practicality and planning alone ever could be. The magic that lets us manipulate time and space might not quite look like stepping through the standing stones and entering another century like they do in Outlander, but it looks everything like the life I crave. Real life is full of real magic and it’s available to all of us who dare to look for it, treasure it, and conjure it.

Want to find out where those Irish country roads took us? Get a copy of The Sovereignty Knot today.

This is an except from The Sovereignty Knot: A Woman’s Way to Freedom, Power, Love, and Magic.

You can get the ebook from Amazon.

Or, please consider supporting your local bookshop by asking them to order you a copy. You can buy The Sovereignty Knot from my local store, Inquiring Minds of New Paltz by calling 845-255-8300. (They’re offering free shipping through the US while they’re closed due to the Coronavirus).

Liminal Spaces For Celts and Creatives

The Celtic people speak of the thin places, the liminal spaces, the times and locations when the veil between the worlds is the most permeable.

This could mean the time around Samhain (what you might call Halloween). It could mean the area surrounding a sacred site, like a holy well, a stone circle, or a fairy tree. 

Over the last few months, I’ve come to understand a thin place as the time and space an author must occupy between when her book is deemed “complete” and when it is birthed into the world.

Finally, The Waiting Is (Almost) Over

The sun rose into a peach pearl of a morning and convinced the sky to try blue. The snowy ground stretched beneath the last glimmer of a crescent moon. Warm and snug by my bedroom window, I held The Sovereignty Knot: A Woman’s Way to Freedom, Power, Love, and Magic in my lap. 

I held my book in my lap. 

After a year and a half of writing and decades of dreaming, I was holding a book that has my title emblazoned on the cover, my name stretched up the spine, and my world imprinted upon each page.

Those years of writing and dreaming were long and hard, but, somehow, the three months of waiting to share this book with the world often felt longer and harder than anything that came before. 

For me, a lover of Celtic myth and Irish folklore, liminal spaces have always sound so alluring and mysterious. I’ve always wanted more chances to wander in the mist and hear the Otherworldly voices. It has been disappointing to realize that the liminal space between the creation and release of something as big and meaningful as a book is both fragile and clumsy. 

Waiting for that link to go live on Amazon (launch day is 2/4/20!) is at once too damn lonely and quiet and too bloody noisy with shoulds and doubts and fears.

How I Navigated the Post-Book Slump

Turns out, the post-book blahs are normal.

My mentor, the wise, seasoned writer Elizabeth Cunningham who has written many books, including The Maeve Chronicles (and also the foreword to The Sovereignty Knot) described this as the “postpartum period.” As she watched me wrestle with anxiety and depletion and the sense that I was endlessly called to do something even though I could barely get off the couch, Elizabeth offered me the exact guidance I needed:

Ask the book what she wants.

It took me a while to quiet the ego and release my need to control everything and take this advice, but when I did, I could breathe again. I could see again. I could trust myself again.

The book reminded me that I was tired. It was the hard earned kind of tired that you recover from with the help of long walks, long novels, and a long break from the screen. 

Ever so gently, the book also pointed out that I was scared of what might come next (or what might not come next) once it was out in the world.

And, the book reminded me that I needed to ask for support from forces that are much more powerful and enduring than a collection of printed pages. To get through the liminal space between the book’s private formation and public birth. I needed to rely on the forces that helped me write it all in the first place: 

My goddess guides. 

The trinity of Celtic goddesses who speak to me and through me are imprinted into every line, but you’ll really get to meet them when you get to Chapter 12 of The Sovereignty Knot. 

Telling their story is another step on my lifelong spiritual journey. Ever since I found the section of the bookstore that offered me Celtic spirituality and the secret of the sacred feminine, I have been seeking out these goddesses, begging them to come closer, and learning how to dance with them in the dark. 

More often than I have wanted to admit, however, I’d lose track of their divine presence. In the face of all that divine yearning, I couldn’t recognize that my goddess guides were always right there waiting to be noticed the moment I stopped fretting about why I didn’t feel divinely inspired.

To get through this weird period between “I wrote the last word!” and “Come buy a copy!” I needed, to quote my coach KC Carter, to “double down on the spiritual practice.”

I needed to get quiet, to listen closely, to open my heart wide. I needed to remember that I wasn’t supposed to get through this all by myself. I was never supposed to figure it out all by myself. I needed to talk to them.

Brigid, The Goddess of Liminal Spaces 

In my book, you’ll get to know Brigid, the Irish goddess turned saint who has been my guide since I was a fourteen year-old trying to get through my confirmation so I could finally escape the Catholic Church.

Though I have had a relationship with Brigid for more than half my life, I need to admit that I have long been afraid to fully enter into a relationship with her. Somehow, I was always waiting to be worthy of her, to feel chosen by her, to have her appear more fully in my life. 

(Maybe, foolishly, I thought Brigid needed me to publish a book before I was enough of an “expert” to get her attention. Hot Tip: Goddesses don’t operate that way, and no human being worth knowing operates that way either.)

She is the goddess guide who has been waiting in this particular liminal space with me, holding the torch that guides the way. All along, she has forgiven me for covering my eyes, for being unable to see her in my quest to hide from the unknown. Brigid trusted that I would eventually look up and stand tall when it was time to enter through the doorway into authorship.

“Brigid lived her life in the liminal space between Heaven and Earth. The Celts perceived liminal spaces as “thin places” where the supernatural world and the visible world could meet, allowing beings to pass back and forth from one to the other. Throughout Brigid’s life, she held a thin place within her own self. She was rooted in the practical everyday world, but she could also see the world of angels and spirits. Her life was lived on the threshold.”

— Kenneth McIntosh in Brigid’s Mantle: A Celtic Dialogue Between Pagan and Christian

Now that I can hear her and feel her presence in my life again, I can trust that she is guiding me and she is guiding this book into the world. 

It’s no accident, of course. I deliberately chose the book’s release date to coincide with the energy of Brigid’s Day, of the Imbolc festival and her saint’s day, that happen over February 1 and 2.

Over the next couple of weeks as the book launch week (February 4 - 8) approaches, you’ll hear a lot more from me about Brigid, about why this goddess of fire and water, of poetry and family, of smithcraft and even beer is a guide for Sovereignty seekers like us. 

We need her to help us navigate these liminal spaces as creatives, as caregivers, as beings who need more self-care. 

And, considering I am an American who calls her energy to me all the way across a vast ocean, I think there’s something to say about how she can help us as we navigate these liminal spaces as a country and a global community, too.

Be sure to follow me on Facebook to dive deep into Brigid’s magic.

To get email updates about the book and all the Brigid material, visit this page and leave me your address.

Forget Your Deadlines, We're On Sovereign Time

Time.

It is what it is, right? Relentless and uncaring. Immutable and inevitable.

We can lose ourselves in time travel fantasies. (Who else is an Outlander fan?)

We can agree that time flies when you’re having fun and that it crawls when you’re stuck with a task that you dislike. 

But really, we just have twenty four hours in a day and the calendar pages will constantly flip and we’ll all be another year older when May 2 comes around once again.

And yet… Is this all there is? Could there be an alternative? What if we didn’t need to buy into the relentless progression of time and those killer deadlines we live (and die) by?

Our Life-and-Death (Mis)Understanding of Time

Funny that we’ve all signed on to honor our deadlines - especially since none of us were soldiers in the American Civil War.

What was a deadline exactly?  “A line drawn within or around a prison that a prisoner passes at the risk of being shot.”

The folks at Merriam Webster are certain of the 19th century bloody origins of “deadline,” but they’re pretty vague about how, over the next one hundred years, we collectively agreed that this term was about time management rather than inmate management. The dictionary doesn't say much about why we went on to co-opt this dire word to describe all sorts of mundane tasks either.

But then it makes perfect sense that “deadline” emerges from the language of war. We’re constantly in a battle with time, right?

Let's End Our Punishing Relationship With Time

Presumably, the men in those prison camps who were hellbent on survival would do everything they could to distance themselves from that line in the turf, but here we are, planning our lives around deadlines every damn day.  

Honestly, what is up with that?

There really is another way.

I recently rediscovered a French philosopher I studied in grad school named Julia Kristeva. She coined the term “Women’s Time.” It's a powerful, viable alternative to the relentless linear nature of time that rules our culture has completely capture my attention. In Kristeva's essay, Women's Time is about syncing ourselves to the cycles of nature and the sweep of eternity. 

I agree. And, for me, I take Women's Time further into being about creativity, flexibility, and giving ourselves permission to grow and connect in a way that's nurturing, not punishing. I want time to be about the moments we spend living, not a countdown for dying.

Let’s think about what it means to move according to Sovereign Time

These ideas are magical. And they're tricky too. We still want to live and serve in the real world, we still want to make commitments that count and be there to support those who need us. And yet we want the freedom to breathe and dream and let things unfold naturally. 

I'm dancing with all this. I'm weaving the contradictions into my book-in-progress, The Sovereignty Knot, every time I sit down to write.

And - here's what's even more exciting right now: these ideas about Women's Time and Sovereign Time are already influencing the way that I work, coach, and teach.

Last month, I conceived and launched a brand new program based on my forthcoming book. I did it in record time because it just seemed right. (At the time.)

But then I realized that my rush to plan and promote and launch wasn’t necessarily divinely inspired. Instead, it was inspired by the stuff of deadlines and chronic overcommitment.

The good news? I didn’t need to cancel the whole thing and call it a huge, embarrassing mistake. Instead, I just needed to pause and breathe and give the project and the people who are excited to join it a little bit of space.

I’ve given us all the gift of time. I’ve pushed the start date for Your Sovereign Awakening back to May 13.

Why did I make the change? Because Women's Time. Because Sovereign Time. Because the "deadline" I set was too tight both for me and for the women who needed to work out childcare and move evening meetings to be there. Because we don't have to always live and die according the calendar. Because it's ok to be vulnerable and admit the initial timing wasn't right.

You Still Have Time to Join Your Sovereign Awakening

The program empowers you to free the princess, crown the queen, embrace the wise woman, and establish a totally new relationship with time. We'll meet on five Monday evenings from 7 - 9 PM beginning May 13. 

Can you shape your time and your schedule and be there with us?

Kiss Me, I'm an Irish Sovereignty Goddess

Ah, Saint Patrick’s Day… The day when everyone gets to be Irish and you remember you never actually liked corned beef or cabbage.

You know all about St, P., right? He’s the fellow who drove out the snakes out of Ireland (though there never actually were any there in the first place).  He’s the one who taught the poor, ignorant natives about the holy trinity with the use of local flora. He’s the bloke who gave people across the world a reason to spill beer on people on March 17.

For as long as the modern pub-going can set can remember, these stories of snakes and shamrocks have served well enough over the requisite round (or six) of Guinness. And yet, I wonder… 

We live in an age when we’re called to question the relentless progress of colonization, to consider indigenous rights and stories, and to ask whether the representatives of the church were always acting on righteous authority.

This St. Paddy’s Day, what if raise our glasses to a different Irish story?

In our complicated times, the simple savior myths rarely meet the diverse needs of the collective. When history looks more like a Celtic knot than an upright cross, we might need to drink to stories that are a little more… serpentine.

Four Brothers and a Goddess

Once upon a time (or “fadó fadó” as they say as Gaeilge), four royal brothers were out hunting in the wildest, most remote part of Ireland. The stag they chased took them deeper into the wilderness than they’d ever been before. As night fell and they sought shelter in the forest, there was no food nor water nor comfort to be found.

Oh, what luck! They came across a well. But, just as the eldest brother was about to reach down and take a drink, a loathsome hag appeared. Hairy chin, pocked face, milky eye… the full nightmare of the aging feminine stood before them. 

“I am the guardian of this sacred well,” she announced. “Ye can drink all that you like, but first… a kiss.”

This particular young man was accustomed to the pretty young things who hung about the castle. He’d rather die of thirst than give himself to such a wizened crone. He told her so and went off to sulk and lick his own dry lips. 

Picture a similar scene with the next two brothers. Thirsty, arrogant lads and an old woman who stands her ground, wrapped not in an embrace, but in a lonely passion for her work. Youthful stubbornness and ancient dedication, side by side. 

But then, the youngest brother, Niall, made his way to the well. For the fourth time, the guardian makes her offer, “You can drink all that you like, but you must kiss me first.”

Cynics might say that Niall was just terribly parched. Romantics might say he saw something in that ancient creature’s eye. Students of myth might say that he’d heard this one before and knew there was more than a tumbler of water in his future if he accepted her offer.

He kissed the crone, the cailleach.

The old woman was transformed into a siren who would give any modern fantasy heroine a run for her money, and the two didn’t stop when they hit first base.  Not too long after, thanks to her aid, Niall would become king and this magical being from the well would be his queen.

The old woman, of course, was the Sovereignty Goddess in disguise.

According to Celtic mythology, not only is she the keeper of sacred waters, but she embodies the sanctity of the land as well. The Sovereignty Goddess bestows kingship on the man who is worthy of her, the country, and its people. For at least part of the story, she’s the real force behind the throne.

When we tell different stories we find a new way forward

Perhaps you feel like you’re on a divine mission to drive out ignorance and spread your version of revelation. If you’re that certain of your path and you see St. Patrick as an archetype who empowers you to keep on keepin’ on, slaying demons, and spreading your almighty vision, fair play to you. Let us know how that goes.

I myself must admit I’m not all that excited to jump into the conversion game.

Let’s drink to transformation, a different kind of power, and seeing past a woman’s looks, shall we?

I’ve got my ideas and passions, sure, and I do believe I can help people change themselves and the world for the better, but I can see my story reflected more clearly in the waters of a sacred well than in a saint’s nationwide anti-reptile campaign. 

When I have my chance to show off my knowledge of Irish lore this St. Paddy’s Day, I’m going to tell this story. I’ll tell it because I want to remind folks that no one is too old to kissed (with consent) and because the straightforward, easy narrative is rarely true or satisfying.

3 Lessons from the Sovereignty Goddess (that just may help you before, during, and after a pub crawl)

1) This Sovereignty Goddess, she models what it means to know your value and worth, even if the average member of a stag party couldn’t see it. She wasn’t going to give her power away for free and she wasn’t going to lavish her gifts on anyone who would demean or disrespect her.

2) The Sovereignty Goddess teaches us how to embody the magic rebirth and reinvention. Sure, life may have been hard, and she may have lost a bit of her sparkle and shine along the way. She might have chosen to hide from the world until she’d gathered her strength. But, when the time was right, she could reclaim her energy and reemerge into the world.   

3) Finally, the Sovereignty Goddess shows us how to be the source and catalyst for others’ transformation. She gave Niall the chance to show he wasn’t the shallow cad his brothers were. Thanks to her guidance and support, he would achieve what would have seemed impossible for a youngest son: the crown.

And, the goddess gave the land and its people what it needed at that time: a just leader who respected women and natural resources and could see beyond his own ego.

A note on being a different kind of hero

Let’s not forget Niall here. He’s got plenty to teach us as we plan a St. Patrick’s Day fueled by a new set of stories.

Niall was a man could look past first appearances, meet a challenge, accept a gift when offered, make his own decisions, and see wisdom and possibility where others saw a person to be discarded. He was surrounded by the testosterone surges of his brothers, but he saw the truth and potential of the feminine. Put simply, in this story, he ditched the toxic masculinity and he did the right thing.

The messages in the story of Niall and the Sovereignty Goddess are varied, conflicting, and multi-layered. You might be inspired by goddess’s shapeshifting abilities or the way age is nothing but a number. You might find the magic in the sacred relationship that begins in an unexpected way. Perhaps you just need a break from the old narrative that tells us that snakes are bad and that every sacred well needs to be re-christened in the name of a saint. 

No matter how you read and retell this story: accept the invitation, know your own power, be kind, and drink deep.

Want more of the Sovereignty Goddess and the lessons she can teach us modern beings?

My book, The Sovereignty Knot: A Collection of Thirteen Beginnings is coming in October, 2019. Join my launch team to get a free advance copy and other bonuses!