My Journey With Presence

I’ve been asked how I came to hold what I call the field of presence.
This is the truest answer I know how to offer.

From a very early age, I was aware of something I can only describe as an echo, a feeling of home that felt larger than life itself. It was vast and familiar, and somehow just out of reach. As a child, I would sit on the roof of my treehouse and gaze into the night sky, sensing that this home existed somewhere beyond the boundaries of my body and beyond the earth where I lived.

Alongside that knowing was a deep sense of disorientation. A quiet estrangement. I carried a homesickness long before I had language for it. I didn’t find it in people. I didn’t find it in church or books. I searched without realizing I was searching.

The closest I came was through nature, water, creating, and moments of embodied play like softball. In those spaces, something in me softened and briefly remembered itself. But the longing always returned. I lived with that homesickness for most of my life, until an awakening in 2012 helped me understand that what I had been reaching toward was never outside of me, but something I was slowly learning how to inhabit from within.

As a child, I also experienced connection in ways I couldn’t explain. I had moments of wordless knowing with friends before I had language for what that meant. I had a companion others might have called imaginary, but to me felt like presence. I learned early to listen through sensation, emotion, and the nervous system rather than logic alone. I was guided from the inside out.

I am deeply empathic and highly sensitive. I always knew when something shifted in a room. I felt what was unspoken. I never quite belonged in the ways that were expected of me, and for a long time, I believed that meant something was wrong.

What I understand now is that my life kept turning me inward on purpose.

Trauma, loss, and extreme experiences did not harden me. They opened me. Again and again, they pressed me into that familiar inner space until it became something I could rest inside of consciously rather than visit only in moments of overwhelm.

Over time, I noticed that simply being present with people changed things. Conversations softened. Emotions released. Bodies responded. I witnessed spontaneous shifts while speaking with someone. I experienced physical healing in my own body. I felt the state of someone across the planet without effort or intention.

I don’t experience this as doing something to anyone.

It feels like remembering how to become still enough that something larger can move through.

My knowing arrives whole, without steps or reasoning. Later, I learned the word claircognizance, but long before I had language for it, I trusted the knowing itself.

Along the way, I explored many modalities. Some I studied deeply. Some I became certified in. Not because they fully resonated, but because I believed that was what one did to be taken seriously. To be considered legitimate. To be respected within certain circles.

And yet, something in me never fully settled inside any of them.

Even when the teachings were sound and the intentions were good, I felt a quiet disconnect. Not resistance, just a knowing that the structures I was being asked to adopt did not reflect how presence actually moved through me. I kept listening inward while collecting outward credentials, hoping the two would eventually meet.

What I came to recognize was a subtle form of spiritual righteousness woven through many spaces. Unspoken expectations about titles, certifications, and the language one must use to be considered valid. The idea that legitimacy comes from accumulation rather than coherence.

The most profound shift for me came when I let all of that fall away. I stopped chasing my own tail.

I released the pursuit of certification as proof. I released the need to justify my work through slashes behind my name. And in doing so, something softened deeply. What remained was not less, but more honest.

Even the word healer never quite fit. Not because healing isn’t real, but because I have never experienced myself as doing healing to or for another. What I witness is people arriving for themselves, and something within them reorganizing when enough safety and presence is available.

That distinction matters to me.

I have had experiences with consciousness beyond the physical. With loved ones who have passed. With presence that did not require form. None of these experiences asked me to believe anything. They asked me to listen.

This is what I mean when I speak about holding the field of transfigurative presence.

It is not force.
It is not fixing.
It is not guidance imposed from outside.

It is a coherent space where the nervous system feels safe enough to reorganize. Where what is ready to transform does so naturally. Where nothing is required.

Often, the work begins before a session ever starts. From the moment someone says yes, I begin to notice subtle arrivals. Sometimes a word or phrase repeats quietly. Sometimes a felt presence emerges. At times, loved ones who have passed, animals, or other supportive presences make themselves known, not as interruption, but as accompaniment.

When I create a fairy doll for someone, information often comes through in the making. Not messages that need decoding, but impressions that belong to the person the piece is for. The materials seem to organize themselves around what is needed.

During sessions, symbolic essences may arise. Colors. Archetypal images. Subtle narratives that later inform the drawing created for integration. I experience this as a field reorganizing itself through coherence rather than effort.

Each person’s experience is unique. Some feel deeply. Some see imagery. Some simply rest. Some notice nothing at all during the session, yet find themselves changed afterward, softer, clearer, more settled in their body.

The call after the session is often where clarity arrives. We name what was felt, what shifted, and what is still integrating. This matters because coherence continues unfolding once it has been accessed.

What consistently humbles me is that I am not directing any of this.

I am witnessing it.

Every session leaves me in quiet awe, not because of what moves through, but because of how naturally it does so when presence is held without agenda.

This is the field I hold now.

If you feel drawn to this work, know that the invitation is simple. You don’t need to be ready, certain, or articulate. You don’t need to know what will happen or what will change. You only need to sense a quiet yes in your body.

Working together is not about being fixed or guided into something new. It is about entering a coherent field where presence is already available, and allowing what is ready to reorganize to do so naturally.

If this speaks to you, you’re welcome to reach out. We can begin with a conversation, a question, or simply a moment of recognition.

A Quiet Recognition

As I wrote this, something became clear to me in a new way. Much of my life has been shaped by the feeling that I needed to validate my own presence. To earn the space I took up. To justify being here as I am.

What I’m beginning to understand now is that this wasn’t only about belonging. It was about divinity.

Not divinity as something distant, perfected, or granted from above. But divinity as the simple, undeniable fact of presence itself. The kind that exists before explanation. Before usefulness. Before permission.

Many of us learn early, often without words, that our presence must be justified. That we need to make sense, be acceptable, be good, be helpful, be quiet, or be extraordinary in order to belong. Over time, this belief settles into the nervous system, and we carry it as a subtle tension, a lifelong asking.

What softens when that belief loosens is not just relief, but reverence.

The realization that being here is not a mistake to correct or a role to perform, but a form of inherent sacredness. That the space you take up is not neutral or conditional. It is alive with meaning simply because you are here.

If something in you recognizes this as you read, I invite you to pause. That recognition may be the moment your body remembers that presence itself is already worthy. Already allowed. Already enough.

Nothing needs to be added for this to be true.

In glowing presence,

DeAn’Na

A reflection on presence, inner knowing, and transformation, offering a grounded invitation into coherence, safety, and embodied awareness.