August 6
Reclaiming Presence: A Wake-Up Call from the Bottom of the Lake
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As we approach the final week of Mercury Retrograde and move through the potent energy of the Lions Gate Portal, a time known for activating higher states of consciousness and aligning with our soul’s purpose, I’ve found myself reflecting A LOT. This weekend also brings the Full Moon, the lunar energy that casts light on the truths we can no longer ignore. It’s our invitation to release the old and call in the new with unwavering clarity.
As I often share with my clients, Reiki energy meets us exactly where we are and heals what we’re truly ready to let go of. And right now, it’s clear to me: I am ready to release the ways I’ve been subtly distracting myself and open up to a life lived with more presence and intention.
The timing of these revelations couldn’t have been more aligned.
I’m coming down from one of my favorite annual traditions: camping on the shores of Lake Tahoe at Emerald Bay Boat Camp. Since 2020, this has been a family tradition, one that requires serious planning, a bit of chaos, and a whole lot of flexibility – but it’s always worth it. The only way to access camp is by boat or hiking down 1,000 feet of elevation with all your gear. No cell service, no running water, no flushing toilets, just dirt, trees, crystal clear water, and connection.
And yet, every year, it takes me a few days to actually arrive. Even in the middle of nature, I find myself stuck in productivity mode, mentally checking off tasks and tethered to the “what’s next.” But this year, life had a more abrupt plan for me. I dropped my phone in the lake, and it’s still down there somewhere.
At first, it felt like a crisis. No phone meant no camera, no music, no communication with my family while commuting back and forth for my son’s football practices, because of course, this was the week he had mandatory practice every single night. We coordinated drop-offs, took turns driving to and from camp to Reno, and navigated the disconnect with some frustration and on my end – a lot of disappointment. And yet… somewhere in the madness, a shift happened.
By the end of the trip, I stopped caring about the mishaps, the planning snafus, the bear strolling through camp, the thunderstorm, or the critters that destroyed dog bowls, tablecloths and clothes. I let it go. I leaned into what I could control: enjoying the present moment. Swimming in the lake. Strolling along the Rubicon Trail. Laying in the sun. Sitting by the glow of the campfire. Hiking barefoot up to the Tea House with my teenager. Laughing with my family. And when it was my turn to drive home for football, I instinctively reached for my phone at least a dozen times, wanting to check music, texts, emails, podcasts… anything. That’s when it hit me: I’d become someone who was far more reliant on her phone than she wanted to admit.
I used to pride myself on taking breaks from technology, on being present. But that illusion cracked open when my phone vanished into the depths of Tahoe. It was startling to realize just how often I reached for it, out of boredom, habit, or avoidance. What felt innocuous was slowly eroding my focus, fragmenting my presence. The past nine days (five without a phone, four with barely any service) have been a wake-up call.
Now, I don’t want to go back to the default. I don’t want to check email ten times an hour or respond to every text immediately. I don’t want to fill the space between things with mindless scrolling or constant stimulation. The ability to focus in today’s world is a superpower, and I want that back.
I want more big blocks of time where I am unavailable, unreachable, and rooted in real life.
This trip reminded me that losing your phone isn’t the worst thing, it might just be the thing that brings you back to yourself. And that’s a kind of magic I didn’t know I needed.
The Lions Gate Portal has a way of shaking us awake, bringing us face to face with the parts of ourselves we’ve ignored, numbed, or bypassed. This year, it came in the form of a dropped phone and the absence of constant connection. But it gave me something far more valuable in return: presence, clarity, and the realization that I want to live a different way.
The Full Moon this weekend will only amplify these truths, bringing into focus the things that no longer serve us and the habits that quietly drain our energy and attention.
I want to reclaim my focus. I want to be bored at stoplights. I want to work with my puppy (who still only listens when I have treats). I want to spend my evenings being present, not mindlessly scrolling. I want to live in rhythm with my soul, not my screen.
This trip reminded me that sometimes the reset we need comes not from doing more, but from letting go of what we no longer need, whether it’s a belief, a habit, or a phone at the bottom of a lake. This is what the Lions Gate and Full Moon are asking of all of us: to stop reaching for distraction and instead reach inward toward truth.