07/02/2025
Hard to believe I was smoking a pack a day at 20. I loved my Malboro Ultra Lights. I thought I was cool, and the attitude showed—but really, I was just using ci******es to avoid myself and my true feelings.
Four years later, after this photo was taken, I was sitting at a Starbucks in Seattle, chain-smoking, when a transient man with a backpack sat next to me. Out of nowhere, he said, “You know, for the work you’re going to be doing in the future, you’re going to have to quit. You’re creating a smoke screen between you and others. You’re going to be helping and healing a lot of people.”
I blew smoke in his face and said, “Oh really? OK,” with a laugh and smirk. He looked at me and said, “Yeah. Really.”
Something about that stuck. It planted a seed.
Two weeks later, I had another encounter—this time at Target. A man pulling an oxygen tank stopped me because I was wearing a red shirt and he thought I worked there. We got to talking. He spoke through a microphone-like device. He told me he’d smoked his whole life and now needed oxygen just to breathe.
Unmistakably, these were signs.
I began meditating and visualizing myself quitting. The nicorette gum and patch helped. Then, one perfect morning, after nearly nine years of smoking, I woke up and didn’t want a cigarette. I never smoked again.
I moved to LA, dove deep into psychology and spirituality, and became a feng shui expert and a spiritual psychotherapist.
Angels show up in mysterious ways. Sometimes wearing backpacks. At other times, an oxygen tank.
