I Love Wolves

w2In 2010, John and I were in Santa Fe, a place that is a Mecca of joy for me. We were window shopping. I was sharing with him some of my years living in Santa Fe in the early 70’s and the wonderful characters I had surrounded myself with back then: artists of all sorts, healers, hippies, cowboys, mystics, Native American Medicine Men, carpenters, writers, some ex-convicts, ranchers, and so on. I was having the blessing of being able to show John the sites of actual events in my life.

I love wolves. We passed a store of Native American art and I noted several pictures focusing on the wolf. I had to go in and so we did. The man in the store was the artist himself, Daniel Valdes. I loved his native art, especially of the animals, and most especially the wolf. Daniel was taken with my energy and enthusiasm for his work, along with my curiosity and interest in him. John was looking around the store and of course was holding the energy field as Traveler. Daniel and I continued to share and it became clear that what was really going on between us was the sharing of Soul energy and re-union.


Daniel told me he himself held a role as a Native American mystic, and he spoke to me specifically of the Raven and his profound relationship with this energy. I then shared my own life long appreciation for the Raven. He asked me, “Do you know your ‘animal’ or ‘spirit animals’?” He commented that I had a gifted sensitivity to natural life and the animal spirit. I said I did not know my animals, or my spirit animals. I bought several paintings of wolves and we all hugged and said we would see each other again.

I did not go to Santa Fe the following year. John called me on his last morning there, and I asked him to please go by and give my love to Daniel. As I was speaking to John, I was looking at the picture of the wolf that Daniel had painted. Shortly John called me back, and told me that the store was closed due to Daniel’s passing away a few days before. He had passed away while John had been in Santa Fe. I was deeply affected, shocked and unable to speak. I had been feeling so happily connected to him, and so eager to hear how he was.

John spoke a blessing of the Light for Daniel. I then sat down to do my spiritual exercises and to pray for him, allowing myself to feel the tenderness in my heart, and the loss… and suddenly Daniel came utterly present. It was temporarily unnerving as I had no expectation of such an experience. His presence was as a palpable cloud of his spirit all around me, and it was soothing and honoring of me as his friend and sister. I let myself take it in and relax and shortly I was out of my body. I had a remarkable and potent lucid dream. I was aware that Daniel was somehow orchestrating this dream. He was unseen but present within it.


I came into union with various totems that have a deep bond with me on some level of awareness…all appearing to me as living animals. I had the experience of walking in a forested and spacious landscape. A magnificent grey and white wolf appeared to my right and moved into natural step beside me. Proud, wild and protective, he was assured and committed that he walked beside me always. We understood this with no question. My right arm comfortably dropped to him and I lightly cupped his neck with my hand. The mantle of his coat felt thick and rough. We were in an effortless communion and both of us knew we were the stronger for each other.

To my left side appeared a female deer. Her fur and markings emitted a golden warmth that I could feel enter into me as she moved beside me. The warmth bathed me and comforted me. She was indefinably lovely and graceful, yet her muscles were supple and very strong. With awareness she tripped lightly on her feet in perfect rhythm with my step. Her eyes were the gift. They were rich and soft eyes that fixed on me with a penetrating tenderness. She was inviting me into the knowingness of the love we shared.

Next, a bald eagle landed on my head, his talons fixed comfortably like a secure solid band on the top of my head. His wings were fully spread and his fierce eyes, black and piercing, were in sharp and acute perception of all that was around us. He was poised to take care of any intruder approaching with anything less than love. Focused allegiance with my heart was all he knew and nothing else. My aegis, my shield and my sword.

Walking close behind me was a fully grown male lion. He carefully measured his distance to me with an eye to my safety. His head would shake with his sound, and a visceral, tensile and shameless power moved through him with every step. His motions expressed a tough nobility in the midst of his male grace. My back still feels the heat of his breath that blew forth with his unlimited and undying loving for me. This lionine presence thrived in unquestioned loyalty.

At some distance before me in awkward stance on two legs, walked a very large bear mantled in brilliant, luxurious black and brown fur. He walked intently, proudly going ahead before us all, doing his job and making sure it was heralded and safe.

Daniel’s energy and presence then lifted from the experience.

Still dreaming, there was now an addendum to these earth animals and their powerful alignment with me. A baby lamb was placed into my arms by Spirit. This transcendental innocence and sweetness and delectable softness snuggled to my heart and rested within me in total trust. My heart was enveloped with Spirit’s loving.

Daniel bestowed his gift to me. It is a gift of safety and protection that is real for me to this day. I easily feel the infusion of these beautiful creatures and their qualities. We are all deeply in love with each other. Each animal being is my beloved and an aspect of my own loving. I am beloved to them. We move harmoniously as Family, all One. Thank you dear friend, my Raven friend Daniel. Thank you.


Enjoy More Wolf Love

Energy Healing Wolf
This Wolf Symphony is Hauntingly Beautiful
How An Unexpected Friendship With A Wolf Transformed A Whole Town




I seem to have a unique relationship with fire.
I burn water.
I burn toast.
I burn food.
I have exploded an oven in my face the night before my opening as the lead in an Off Broadway play.
I often leave candles burning.
I manage to set off fire alarms.
I often forget to turn off the oven and the stove.
There have been more than a few steaks burning in flaming infernos.
I love candles and looking into the flame for the little man.

I don’t know why but none of this disturbs me. Perhaps Zarathustra is blessing me with the Fires of Purification.


When I was 9 I blew up an oven in my face looking for the match while the gas was on. It was a Saturday morning in East Rochester, New York. My parents slept in on Saturday morning, trusting that I was happily listening to my special children’s programs on weekend radio, attended always by my beloved parakeet “Keepie,” with my delicious can of cold spinach for breakfast. I adored my parents and on this morning I thought it would be romantic to cook something for them as a surprise breakfast in bed. I cannot remember what it was I wanted to make for them, but it required an oven. I remember seeing my mother turn on the oven, but couldn’t remember if the gas went on first and then the match, or light the match and turn on the gas. It seemed more sensible to turn on the gas and light the match. Less awkward. So I did. I turned it on and looked for the matches. I found them, lit one, and BOOM. A searing sharp warmth engulfed my face. Then it was over and I was frozen for a moment while taking quick account that this was serious, and considering whether or not my parents had heard the boom. They had not. I was not in pain. I went to the bathroom mirror and saw that I was in some trouble. My front hair was grey and singed, my eyebrows were grey and singed to the root. My eyelashes were but a fluff of grey, otherwise I was remarkably unharmed, just very pink and warm. I considered my options, and went for the scissors. I cut my front hair carefully, removing the evidence. I cut my eyebrows as close to my skin as I could, and cut my eyelashes to my lid. For some reason obscure to me now, I thought I looked just fine and I had escaped detection. I looked like a plucked chicken.

It is odd and perhaps revealing that until my parents were sitting next to me in the car later that morning, that my mother noticed, heartily screamed and asked, “What have you done to yourself!”


A Golden Thread Shining in the Fabric of This Life of Mine



I was sitting and reading in the lounge lobby of my hotel in Madrid, Spain. It was 1969. I was 23. The corner I had found gave me an open view of the lobby, and the comings and goings of people as I sat enveloped in a red velvet chair. I was reading Jung: MEMORIES, DREAMS AND REFLECTIONS. I was in heaven as I usually was when I was reading, and I was feeling content from a busy day of fittings for my next film, THE HORSEMEN, including a fitting for my new gold nose ring. It was English tea time. I felt I had created a field around me that said No Visitors, as I adored immersing myself in reading, drinking a lovely tea, and observing life around me without any intrusions of human interaction. A woman approached my haven. Before I could react, she was instantly compelling to my artist’s eye. She had glistening thick silver snow hair, flawless translucent skin with natural rose pink cheeks and clear turquoise eyes. She was short, slightly rounded and utterly radiated warmth and electric vitality. She was wearing black, simple and elegant, highlighted by the most magnificent American Indian turquoise necklace. Of course it matched her eyes. I could not even determine her age as she was so remarkably alive. I took all of this in within an instant, as I was equally negotiating that I wanted privacy please.


With an enchanting smile and no concern for her having intruded upon my precious space, she said, “What are you reading?” “Jung” I said, not knowing why I offered her up my book. “May I sit down?”. Oh dear I thought. “Yes, of course,” I said.

Within seconds, or so it seemed, I was in love. We began a pithy and effortless communion. Scarcely moving, highly alert, we were excited in our sharing of books, philosophers and Spirit. Our conversation was as if we were one person divided into two women making a new whole. It was seamless joy. I was starved for this sort of engagement and I felt I was with my best friend and that we had been so forever. It was a warmth of being increased somehow, as she was filling my cup to overflowing.

Sanora Babb was her artist’s name. She was Sanora Wong Howe as wife and partner. Sanora was a writer, a poet, and well published. Apart from being the wife of one of the film industry’s greatest cinematographers, James Wong Howe, she had spent her life amongst the aristocracy of the world’s finest writers, philosophers, artists, and scientists. She was a Muse as well. Hemingway, Saroyan, Maxwell Perkins, Steinbeck, Diego Rivera, Frida Kieho, Einstein and more, had been her friends and compatriots, and lovers.

I was a 23 year old actress starring in a film with her husband as my Director of Photography, and she was 60, an artist intellectual with a spirit like fresh breezes. She was my inner life made manifest in a friend. I was instantly less lonely. The promise of our future friendship was secured this day. If we had cut our fingers and mixed our blood speaking some childish poem of eternal loyalty it would not have been strange.

We both lived in Los Angeles. As the years progressed she deeply understood who I was in so many dimensions unknown by others, and I understood her. We had no age difference. We were just free, unfettered, and utterly outspoken and vulnerable. I gave her the key to my heart with abandon, and she gave me her heart with no frills.

She remained a golden thread shining in the fabric of this life of mine. True Wealth.

She passed at 99.
I was close with her in her dying process as she slowly let go of this world. In great spiritual intimacy, I ministered her into her next adventure, and she blessed me into the remaining chapters of my life. She is with me now, and I know she heartily approves of my choices and is glad. Fiercely however, she would be wanting more of me to be expressing creatively. We are both Artists still, passionate, loving and free .

Some of her amazing books:
An Owl on Every Post
The Lost Traveler
Whose Names are Unknown


Learn More About Sanora Babb

The Healing of a Broken Circle


I remember being 25. I remember Ryan sitting cross legged on the left side of the bed in his old brown plaid robe rolling a joint. It was early morning at our home on Anita Drive and I was dressed for my jazz dance class. My body was eager and alive with an electricity in every cell anticipating moving to joyful dance and music. Even the long drive on this bright Saturday morning to the class seemed thrilling in my new fast Radford Mini. I felt joy. But first I laid out the architectural plans of the new house I was designing for us at the beach. I was excited with the surprise I had for Ryan. With the architect, I had designed a racquet ball court for him. I got on my knees at the foot of the bed and spread the drawings out. I was immersed, happily pointing out the details in this new design, and Ryan suddenly said, “You aren’t going to want to live with me there.” I remember I looked up smiling. I could only register there must be something not quite right in the drawings and this was just an odd way of saying it. I digested his face. My whole body seemed to have a sudden intelligent awareness, and my energy began to drain into a slowing dullness. I was confused. I asked simply, “Why not?” I remember vaguely feeling that I was at the edge of an internal cliff and that I might suddenly and unexpectedly be pushed off. Time seemed slower. The light at the edges of the room were dimming. At the very same time, there was a narrowing focus and heightened awareness. All in a micro-instant.

“Because,” he said, “I have a mistress.”

My system froze. My heart rate took on a life of its own. Without any effort I was processing a worst terror come true. It was the oddest thing for even as my body went into a strange adaptation, I was taking in the one who I loved so deeply, who was part of the fabric of my heart and so familiar. Everything was so familiar but I knew that a surgery without anesthetic had just been performed, and now all was going to change. A stillness came upon me. It was a river of calm and it was warm and strong. Unexpected.

I said, “Would you tell me who it is?”

He paused, hesitant, “I don’t think so. It will blow your mind.”

“Well, I think my mind is already blown. I would be grateful to know.” I was aware my voice was not compromising my love for him. It was sweet and calm and open, with no judgement or reaction. You must keep your wits about you in a Tsunami.

“It’s Barbra Streisand.”

“Barbra Streisand?!!!!!!! WOW.” I said.

I adored her. She was the one and only Icon I allowed myself to adore. The conversation took on a new dimension. In this moment my Heart Self was stepping on a thin wire, high above vastly tall buildings in my ballet shoes, no net, delicately balancing myself so as not to fall. I focused my eyes on him to steady myself, the “him” that was the anchor of my affection, my loyalty, my “security’’. I saw now only a lost boy. Beyond my pain and my fear, my love and compassion for him rose up instinctively inside of me. I moved up onto the bed and came close into him. I reached out, cupped his cheek, looked into his eyes saying softly, “What are you doing, baby?”

He began to cry and said, “I don’t know.”

IN 2000, and 2001 I had very difficult years, actually they were devastating and in retrospect, utterly transformational to the good. At another time, I will fill in the events of this time that led to my being without money, no stable home base, ill, with limited strength and no seeming light at the end of any tunnel.

Five days after 9/11, I had a counseling with John Morton who is the spiritual director of my church, a wondrous man, counselor and my friend. I shared some of the conditions of my life and my confusion at how to handle my everyday responsibilities in order to survive with no job or health. I shared with him that I had been evicted from my home and through the grace of a good friend had been able to rent a small house that I loved and hoped to keep as a place to stabilize myself for more healing. The rent was due in a few days and I had no resources and was deeply confused and felt paralyzed as to what to do. John was thoughtful and suggested that I needed to ask for help. This idea was foreign to me. In fact, it was terrifying. He went on to say that “asking” was not my strong suit and needed to be developed. He said that there were people in my life who needed to give to me to balance their own imbalance with me, and if I did not ask them to help me, they could not fulfill their debt. I would be giving them an opportunity to come into greater balance with themselves. Wow, this was such a smart illumination in my awareness of another possible dynamic in “asking.” I listened to my beloved friend John and took the information he shared to heart.

As I was driving home thinking of the session, I was very aware of the rent being due in two days. Who could I possibly ask? I did not like this. There were no ideas in my conscious mind. I then heard in my right ear, “Ask Ryan O’Neal.” In shock, I reactively turned to the right and said loudly, “Absolutely not!” The “voice” was relentless, and patiently repetitive. “Ask Ryan O’Neal.” I did my best over the next two days to ignore the message. And the more I ignored it, the more disturbed I was becoming. It did not go away.

In the late afternoon of the day before my rent was due, I finally picked up the phone, my heart beating miserably loud, and I called Ryan. The relief I felt when I realized it was a machine, was quickly matched with panic about leaving a message at the sound of the tone. I sort of mumbled and barely alluded to what I would ask of him, then I hung up. Done. Relief. I was sure that was enough. It was embarrassing and it was done and I was letting go. Melting into my inevitable coming crisis, I felt like Scarlet O’Hara…tomorrow was another day. I went to bed early, immersing myself in pillows and comfort and my cats to be with God. I was more at ease asking something of God.

At 3am the phone rang. I answered and a voice said, “It’s Ryan.” Half asleep, I spilled the beans. I told him everything that had happened and what I needed and if… perhaps, would he possibly consider … assisting me? In answer to his few questions, I awkwardly shared my monthly nut and financial obligations, and told him that I had no money to pay them. There was a slight pause, and he said, “Go to my office tomorrow morning at 9am and there will be a check for you for all of your expenses.” I was shocked because it was a graceful experience with no sharp edges, no demand for when he wanted it back … in fact he told me to forget about that, and if I needed it again the next month, to call him. And then some Ryan humor I don’t remember, and a kind goodbye.

For almost one year, until my health was strong, Ryan helped me. At one point he said to me, “Thank you, Leigh, for asking me to help you…I owed you and did not know what to do about it.”

The healing of broken circles back to wholeness is what my inner life guides me to do. My experience with Ryan was just that, the healing of a life circle. My courage in asking for help, which in turn invited Ryan’s generosity, changed that moment of my life to greater good. What came from this greater good is a clean slate that is bright today in my friendship with Ryan. And he continues to extend his generosity to our two beautiful granddaughters.

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I share this very personal story because I live my life aspiring to be grateful, to forgive, to love, to accept and to understand others even when situations or circumstances have sometimes hurt me. Back in 1970 when my heart felt as if it was broken, I was a young woman who really needed to move on in order to grow. Ryan’s choices became just the catalyst, and the blessing I needed to move on, leading me ever more profoundly into my Spiritual journey. I was already learning that loving is an inside job, and not based on whether someone else loves you, or not, the way you would like. These lessons are not always easy and I am still learning.

Oh, by the way, remember John Morton, that wondrous man, counselor, and friend I mentioned? I married him in 2013!

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Read More – LTY Marries John Morton – A Blessed New Day

I Am Aware That My Heart Longs to Write for My Life

I am aware that my heart longs to write for my life.

I ask now for the Muse of the Christ Spirit, my True Beloved to infuse my Being with Presence and inspiration, however it looks.  I am aware that something will fill the cup, the seemingly empty cup of now.

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John-Roger a love story, comes to mind.  Also known as JR.  How one remarkable being can define a person’s whole life.  For some it has been family, or a career or a child, or an event.  For me, my life has been the most truly defined by Love and this man, John-Roger.  I first met him when I was 27.  In retrospect, I was lost.  The kind of lost where you are sort of doing fine, here and there, but arriving nowhere that really fulfills.  Still, I was vitally searching for something that kept pulling me towards the unseen, towards mystery.  I had always had a feeling for the unseen since I was a very small child.  It was in my hard wiring.  Angels were not strange to me, or soft hidden sounds, whispers of Presence.  I reveled in silence as it was full of company.  I could not see anyone but it was a feeling of such satisfaction and joy and safety.   I still feel most comfortable in silence.

I want to rage my wings wide and set myself free.  I AM!

Learn More About John-Roger