Reflect is an allegory of our times that delves into the territory of authenticity, faith and compassion. Readers will ask anew, what’s possible for my life?
Spoken by her guide, Faith
“It’s up to you if I become more than a rumor. You’ve had a sense of me for years. . . . But don’t be fooled, we are not separate. I, like everyone you will meet on this journey, am an aspect of yourself. The choice is yours who you want to integrate. Your consciousness is your most powerful resource; tap into it and re-source yourself.”
Sarah questions everything. How important are the things we cannot see? Is her love for her partner, Ian, the forever kind? Furthermore, is she living her life or the one that’s expected of her?
The one thing Sarah hasn’t questioned is her sanity until the night her doppelgänger appears through their bedroom mirror inviting Sarah to come with her. Sarah accepts. Her odyssey entails inhabiting her inner landscape and reconciling with aspects of herself she had previously dismissed – grief, rage, intuition and instincts. Before Sarah can return, she must unhook from the personal and societal lies she’s been told but mistook for truth.
Ian has no idea when or if Sarah will return. As weeks turn to months, loneliness tempts his fidelity. Professionally, his exploration of how organizations become anti-racist swiftly reveals the cross currents of privilege and injustice he’d personally been oblivious to.
Reflect, the first book of the Rumored Woman series, goes beyond appearances in the bewildering pursuit of coming to “know thyself.”
Read excerpt below.
Reflect: Chapter 1 Impossible
That Saturday, the improbable— and what others might say impossible— undeniably occurred.
By nightfall, I even had a witness. Ian, my partner, finally met my doppelgänger, and together, we observed this apparition of myself arrive through our bedroom mirror. The veil had thinned.
It had been an unusually balmy morning for May first in New England. Ian had already departed for a seven a.m. tee time and I relished having the house to myself. A warm, soft breeze blew the bedroom curtains. Before I lit the candle and incense on our shared altar, the new placement of my queen chess piece surprised me. Normally, it sat on the periphery of the small, square, cherry table. Now, she occupied at the center. Ian and I had an unwritten rule that our sacred objects were off limits; touching them was taboo. Why would he do it? The queen of all pieces is symbolic of sovereignty.
Nested beside the waist-high, over-stacked bookshelf, our altar displayed various rocks from our hikes, Ian’s crystal pyramid, a red-tailed hawk feather, a hand-blown blue glass perfume bottle filled with Kauai ocean water, my mother’s silver filigree butterfly pin, and a major arcana tarot card, the Tower.