Transformative Grief: Ancient Healing for Modern Times – An Interview with Tracee Dunblazier

What if grief isn’t just sorrow—but the very doorway to vision, wisdom, and connection?

For Tracee Dunblazier, grief has never been something to run from. Born with the gifts of clairvoyance, clairaudience, and clairsentience, she experienced other dimensions from her earliest years, often misunderstood in a family where psychic sensitivity was labeled “mental illness.” Yet instead of silencing her awareness, Tracee came to see grief not as weakness, but as the portal that integrates our inner and outer worlds, helping us navigate transition, loss, and the deeper truths of who we are.

From reading cards in department stores to counseling clients in metaphysical shops, and now writing award-winning books and speaking on global stages, Tracee has spent decades showing people how to embrace grief as a sacred teacher. Her perspective is radical yet deeply practical: grief doesn’t just point to what’s gone—it reveals what’s still present, and what’s waiting to be born.

In this conversation, Tracee shares why grief is the gateway to ecstasy and sight, how crying literally rewires the brain, and why allowing yourself to feel is the first step to reclaiming your spiritual authority. She also offers a glimpse into her channeling practice, reminding us that every “why” we ask is already a cord to the universe—and the answers are waiting for us to receive.

Continue reading or listen in by subscribing for free on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Amazon Music, or YouTube to discover how Tracee Dunblazier’s insights can transform the way you experience grief, healing, and connection.

You’re so bright and colorful! I feel like I’m looking at an explosion of joy. In light of so much joy that I’m seeing across the screen, I’m curious—what do you sense is going on in our world right now? Because there is joy, but there are also challenges. It seems like the generation we’re living through is really going through something. What do you sense we’re experiencing?

Tracee Dunblazier: Well, it’s so multi-leveled. The planet is deciding what she’s going to do, and we as individuals are deciding what we’re going to do—who we want to be and the values we want to hold. It’s about recognizing—or denying—the interconnectedness of all things.

In my opinion, we are all interconnected. Whether you acknowledge it or not, that connection is happening. The outside world affects your inner world—how you perceive it, how you respond to it, and how you receive it. All of that comes from your own values, how you see yourself, and then how you see the world.

We’re at a turning point. We’re having to choose—connection with others or the illusion that we’re separate. And I feel like all of these global events are pushing groups of people to their own perspectives. There’s the individual within the group, and then there are groups themselves—hundreds of them—each being pushed to reflect deeply or being forced into situations that require reflection.

The words that come to my mind as you describe that are “defining moment.”

Tracee Dunblazier: Yes.

It’s as if we’re being guided to define what we value, as you said. And also to recognize—do we really understand that we’re interconnected? And if we are, how do our values bleed into those relationships because of that interconnectedness?

Tracee Dunblazier: Exactly.

I’m curious about your own story of awakening to mindfulness, consciousness, and spirituality. Did you grow up in a home with some form of faith or spirituality? Where did you grow up? Tell us your story.

Tracee Dunblazier: Well, in my family, we called it mental illness. I was born with all of “the Clairs”—clairvoyant, clairaudient, clairsentient—just knowing things. I had a very deep connection with all of the past lives I’d lived. I may not have been able to explain it that way then, but I had dreams constantly and was very aware of other-dimensional beings.

I processed and understood grief on every level. My father was into Edgar Cayce and Art Bell—he’d listen to their radio shows, and when I was very young, before he died when I was 12, I’d listen with him. That was something we shared, though we never really got to share it.

Most of what I experienced, I didn’t talk about with my family. We weren’t really a churchgoing household. I chose to go to church on my own—synagogue, Baptist, First Congregational, Methodist—anywhere my friends were going. I loved churches in general—the buildings, the sanctity, the sense of sanctuary.

You started by saying, “In my family, we called it mental illness.” What were you referring to?

Tracee Dunblazier: Being multidimensional—hearing voices, seeing beings, seeing energies. At the time, I saw ghosts, demons, all kinds of entities. And intrinsically, I knew who and what they were, even if I couldn’t communicate it.

Mental illness ran in my family. All my grandparents and relatives had some relationship with psychic or spiritual experiences—seeing, hearing energy—but they lived in environments where it was unacceptable. You were “sick” if you experienced those things.

I was also—and still am—an empath, deeply affected by everything. Looking back energetically, I can see that people in my family were perceiving beings and energies that just weren’t in bodies.

At what point did you develop the language to be able to articulate what you were experiencing—and begin to actually navigate that world?

Tracee Dunblazier: When I was 18, I moved to New York City and began meeting people who had a deeper understanding of these things—people from all walks of life and all ages.

New York City is a unique place; you find tutors everywhere. There was one man in particular—I assume he was unhoused—who sat across from me on the subway one day. I was deeply grieving, though I don’t remember exactly why. He locked eyes with me and began a stream-of-consciousness download—information about what I was going through and where I was at. It all landed. Just before my stop, he finished, and I saw tears streaming down his face. I bowed to him, and he got up and left.

I thought, “Okay, it’s going to be okay.” In New York, people see on another level. They’re conscious in it, deliberate in it, and they’re not afraid of it. It’s not always spoken, but you can see it in people. New York City became my biggest teacher, with multiple “tutors” appearing from everywhere.

At what point did you sense, “I’m actually called to utilize these skills of intuition and psychic abilities”? When did you make that decision?

Tracee Dunblazier: Honestly, I don’t know that I ever consciously made that decision. I had moved to Los Angeles and gone through a very deep depression—my emotional life had taken another turn, and I was struggling with both that and my work.

At the time, I worked for various fragrance and cosmetic companies, organizing special events. One of my colleagues, who got readings every week from someone in Las Vegas, asked me to do a reading for her while her regular reader was on vacation. I said “Sure”. I never shared my abilities with people, aside from a few who knew me personally.

Then she told our boss—and he started hiring me as a “gift with purchase.”

No way. So you’d buy cosmetics…

Tracee Dunblazier: Yes.

Like a small amount? That’s got to be a big cosmetics purchase to get that gift. How did it work?

Tracee Dunblazier: It was hilarious. You’d spend a certain amount, and then people would come get in line. The first event we did was a fashion show at Macy’s, and people were lined up out the door.

Then we went to Portland, Oregon, on the weekend of the solar eclipse—the same weekend Princess Diana passed away. I’ll never forget it. We were at a mall in Portland, and people were lined up to the edge of the building and around the corner.

These were little five-minute readings—pulling a card or a rune—but people were having cathartic experiences just by sitting in my presence. Because I’m an empath, that’s how it works: when you sit with someone who has a gift—whatever that gift may be—you connect with it, and it frees you in your own way to receive your own messages. People sat with me and felt free to feel.

They were walking away down the mall, going to Spencer’s Gifts, just crying. That’s hilarious. What year was this? How long ago was this?

Tracee Dunblazier: Gosh. That had to have been 1994 or 1995. It was during the last year that we hosted those special events for about six months. Then my boss at the time suggested I create my own company, get a DBA, and do all the business stuff.

So I did that. And then the company sold—and my job went away. That’s when I realized, “Oh, but I can do this thing over here.” For a year, I worked at two different metaphysical stores. I took clients every day, sometimes 12 hours a day.

Like a metaphysical store, not Macy’s—you didn’t go back to Macy’s.

Tracee Dunblazier: Yes, that’s right. I went to metaphysical stores. It allowed me to really do the work. In metaphysical stores, the people who come in are in deep need. They need something—an answer, a friend, a connection. They’re surviving something.

A lot of them need therapy, but would never go to therapy or don’t trust it because of their relationship with the system. In many ways, psychics are on the front lines of the deepest and worst that people go through. People will tell a psychic things they’d never tell a therapist or anyone inside “the system.”

And you mentioned earlier that you have the capacity to experience a lot of grief. I’m assuming people who come into metaphysical stores are often experiencing grief as well. Now you function as a grief counselor. At what point did you decide, “Okay, I want to get trained in this. I want to utilize my skills in this area.”?

Tracee Dunblazier: Well, I always utilized my skills in this area. You’re absolutely right—everyone who came to me was experiencing grief in some way. I was helping them metabolize it, intellectualize it, understand the layers of what they were feeling, and give them permission to feel it—all of which is what grief work is about for me.

Grief isn’t just about loss or death; it’s about transition. Everyone coming into the store was in transition in some way. I’d been doing this work for at least five or six years, maybe more, when I thought, “Hey, why don’t I get certified?”

The only reason I got certified wasn’t necessarily to learn more, but to understand how others see it—to build a bridge to the therapeutic world, to Western medicine and Western ways of thinking. I’m very much a whole-body person and approach everything that way, but it’s important to understand how other people break down these ideas.

Most people relate grief counseling strictly to death or loss. Now, though, there’s more conversation about it. I’ve written a book on it, and so have many others. The focus now is: you don’t just grieve when someone dies; you grieve when you believe something is going to change. The change doesn’t even have to be happening yet. If you believe it could or will happen, the grief process starts right there.

I got certified to better connect with another demographic.

You’re involved in so many different things—you’ve written multiple books on crystals and lead an organization that helps other spiritual businesses. How much of your day-to-day work is around grief and helping people, as you said, metabolize grief?

Tracee Dunblazier: About half.

All of the work I do is about helping people connect more deeply with themselves. Crystals do that. Understanding patterns does that. Understanding the multidimensional nature of life does that. Everything we do, see, and feel is a representation of who we are on the inside—it manifests outside of us. Learning to read and understand helps you see yourself more clearly. All of it is a transition from one perspective to another.

You’ve written a book—which I happen to have right here—Transformative Grief: An Ancient Ritual of Healing for Modern Times. You’ve been talking about how grief isn’t just about death or dying. Could you define grief for us? And maybe speak to why our culture tends to avoid it.

Tracee Dunblazier: Grief is the emotional response—or evidence—of transition. Mourning is the physical and intellectual response or evidence of that transition.

I grieve when someone dies, yes, but I also grieve when I lose something else. One example I use in the book is the rage you feel after five little things go wrong, and then the coffee pot breaks. “I need my coffee!” It’s that moment when all the emotion surfaces and you need to release it in order to accept that you no longer have a coffee pot—or can’t have coffee right now.

Then the mourning process says, “Hey, I can still have coffee. I just need to take five minutes to go to the coffee shop on my way to work.” Problem solved. Peace restored.

Grief is the process of transitioning from one perspective or belief to another. Right now in the world, people are not who they thought they were. People are not who they present themselves to be. We’re seeing people say one thing to one group and something different to another—but it’s all coming from the same person. There’s inconsistency, gaslighting, and a lack of grounded belief.

And everyone has to work through that for themselves. My own early years were about grief, helping me integrate multiple belief systems.

I was born multispirited, which means I had multiple spirits and entities with me. I saw through their eyes, lived through their understanding of life. It all made sense to me; we were one big family. Then, little by little, as I integrated the lessons of their presence and healed and grieved their experiences, they left. I pared down and pared down until I literally remember the day the last spirit left—and it was just me.

I thought, “Oh, this is what other people see.” Because I never saw her—the “me” everyone else saw. They treated me according to their beliefs about who I was. That wasn’t who I saw.

I know my experience is extreme, but everyone has a version of that story—whether it’s entities, multiple personalities, multiple values, or opposing values. Someone may be Christian one day and then say, “Oh no, that’s not me.” Everyone goes through phases where they adopt a certain perspective, live in it, decide what works and what doesn’t, and then move to the next.

What used to take lifetimes is now happening in years, months—even days. The world, especially the United States, is a microcosm of that for everyone right now.

Grief is the transition.

During my pastoral training, the brief glimpse we got of grief was during the process of helping people plan memorials or funerals. The five stages—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—were presented as a framework. For you, do those five stages tend to be helpful “handles” for people in the grieving process? Or do you find a more helpful way to see grief?

Tracee Dunblazier: I would say the five stages of grief represent a linear perspective—you go from one to the other to the next. But today, the world is so much more complex. We understand so much more than we did in the seventies when that linear viewpoint emerged.

Grief is really a circular or even spherical experience. Let’s say someone dies, and I’m very sad. I grieve their loss. But let’s say it’s complicated grief—maybe it was my mother, and we didn’t get along. The last time we saw each other, we fought. Now I have to grieve that too.

And let’s say my relationship with my mother led me to make choices about how I treated people—for better or worse. Now that she’s gone, I have to deal with that as well. That’s another circle of grief. There’s the actual firsthand event we grieve. Once we process that, another layer emerges—what we did or who we became because of that event.

Then, after that, there’s a third layer: the pattern. What are we going to do about it now? Are we going to keep it? Does it work for us? Or are we going to move on? That layer may not arise for years or even decades.

So, a grieving process isn’t a simple 1-2-3 or even 1-2-3-4-5. The first layer might resemble those five stages, but then you move through these other circles of grief as life unfolds and those things become important or visible to you.

One of the questions I asked earlier, which we didn’t fully touch on, is: why do we tend to avoid grief? Because the way you’re describing it sounds like a full-time job. Can we just have some dinner and move on?

Tracee Dunblazier: (laughs) Yes—do we get movies and comedies in between?

Here’s the thing: it can be a full-time job. People can take days, weeks, years, even decades to process grief. The loss of a parent, for example, you may still feel waves of that grief 20 or 25 years later, especially if you make a concerted effort to work on all the layers connected to you.

Grieving is the emotional aspect. Mourning is an intellectual, emotional, and physical change. If you say, “Hey, every Friday at 2, I’m going to work on my grief…”

What does that mean—to “work on” grief?

Tracee Dunblazier: Instead of waiting for it to happen to you, you choose to meet it. You might notice: “I see there’s a change here, and I’m resisting it. I feel anxious every day. I’m angry or frustrated. I’m not nice to people—or myself. I want to eat or drink or numb it.” Those are the things we do to suppress emotionalism.

So you take a conscious pause. Say you get off work at noon on Friday, have a nice lunch, and sit down to do some grief work. That could be meditation, a ritual, or simply reflecting: “I felt really angry at so-and-so today. Why?” You trace it back: “They said something my mom used to say.” You begin to see the connections to what you’re grieving.

If you choose to do that every day or every week—especially if you’re a first responder, facing intense things daily—you give your grief somewhere to go. Otherwise, you just “set it aside,” but really you’re setting it in the gallbladder, or the liver, or the brain tumor. It sits somewhere, and it has an impact. When you turn and face it, it feels far less scary.

I don’t think we’ve been taught this at all. It’s not part of “Life 101.” We learned how to write a check—but not how to grieve.

Tracee Dunblazier: (laughs) I didn’t even learn how to write a check! I never learned how to balance a checkbook or handle finances. But I learned how to grieve—and nobody taught me. I just came in with that.

None of us is really taught actual life skills. Ideally, our communities—our churches, our neighborhoods—would support us in this way. That’s the fantasy: we believe they should be doing this for us. But they don’t.

A few years ago, after being on antidepressants for more than a decade, I decided to come off them. I thought I’d finally experience more joy and love—but instead, I was flooded with grief and pain.

Tracee Dunblazier:  Well, I hear you, and I understand. But here’s the thing: grief is the gateway to ecstasy, to vision, to passion, to understanding, and then to wisdom. Grief is your gateway to sight.

How is this? Tell me—sell me on this.

Tracee Dunblazier: I’m going to sell you on it. After this conversation, you’re going to be a believer.

Anytime someone is on medication, they’re putting off dealing with whatever inner truths are going on. Depression is resistance to dealing with what’s inside. Medication simply postpones that reckoning until you’re ready.

When you got off the medication, the grief showed up. That’s because grief is transformative. When we cry for 10 minutes or more, we literally change the neurons in our brains. Neural pathways that say “crying is weakness” begin to dissolve.

The best advice someone ever gave me was: “Tracee, when you cry, scream it out to the universe. Cry big and loud and hard—as hard as you can.” Something happened when I did that. I had always cried, but quietly, feeling broken, feeling no one could help me. People were frustrated by their inability to help me, so it felt like my problem. I’d cry in my own little cocoon, then go out into the world, presenting something different.

Grief is what brought those two “mes” together.

When you cry for 10 minutes or more—loud and proud—that’s what opens the portal. Remember, your responses are based on your patterns, which are in turn based on your habits. Your habits, however, were established karmically and then nurtured by your caretakers. If you were taught “boys don’t cry,” of course, you’re going to resist.

So be loud, be proud. If you need to go into the closet and scream to high heaven, do it. Make sure somebody hears you. That’s the point. When you cry, you’re releasing chemicals, erasing old neurons, and creating space for new ideas to populate your brain—to create new pathways.

In God’s world, grief isn’t sadness. Grief is the call to action the universe can hear. It’s like there’s a portal between us and the other worlds. When we cry, that portal opens. We can see and speak to the ancestors, understand the angelic realm, and connect to the intergalactic. We can even see lower entities and decide our relationship to them.

Freedom comes if we’re willing to walk through that first portal of grief, then own it and take authority over it. Not to stop grieving, but to fully engage the process grief creates.

For example, I had an ancestor—well, a spirit connected to me. In a past life, I was the great-grandmother. The being with me was the great-granddaughter. Essentially, she was my great-great-granddaughter. These were spirits, not people, today.

Every time I had a bad relationship—when I was dating someone and we broke up, or I could feel him preparing to ghost me—a wave would come over me. It would move through me, my mind would clear, and I would see her. I would see myself. And she was always the one saying, “I see you. You’re okay. This is the path.”

I could see her as clear as day. That was one of my first experiences of being clairvoyant—through my grief.

What is it about grief that opens us up to this otherworldly dimension, this other level of experience?

Tracee Dunblazier: First of all, I’m fairly certain it’s biochemical on many levels. The heart gives off very specific hormones when we grieve. Once you’re done grieving for that moment, an incredible calm comes afterward. And in that calm, you can see. You can call on what you want to see, and it will be shown to you.

When we discuss the pineal gland and a person’s ability to be clairvoyant or see energy, we often associate this with DMT. (DMT (N, N-Dimethyltryptamine) is a natural compound in plants and the human body, often called the “spirit molecule” because of its link to dreams, visions, and mystical states.) It’s a hallucinogenic chemical our pineal gland produces. It allows us to be creative, to have vision, to imagine and visualize what we want to create—or what’s already there. It allows our brains to access that information.

But when we’re grieving, our belief systems can either open that gateway or close it. If someone is raised to believe that being psychic is “the devil’s work,” for example, that becomes a hindrance. They either have to choose their sensitivity and let go of the directive, or choose the directive and suppress their sensitivity. The truth is, we are all ultra-sensitive. Until we reconcile that, we stay in conflict.

Your definition of grief as an emotion in the midst of transition really resonates. I’m a keeper of things—I still have boxes from my childhood, like basketball programs from games with my dad. When I look at them, I feel both nostalgia and sadness. I’ve always wondered why I keep them, and now I sense it may be grief connected to the transitions and losses in my life.

Tracee Dunblazier: Right.

So essentially what I’m taking from this is that, as a grief counselor, you want us to be grieving every day—because we’re constantly in transition.

Tracee Dunblazier: Right. I want grief to mean something different.

When you say you look at that basketball program, what’s happening is that object is a portal to the love you felt from your dad. When your heart opens to that sadness, what I call “tears of truth,” it’s your dad wanting to connect with you. If you’re willing, when you feel that sadness, you can simply say, “Hi, Dad. How are you doing?” You’d be surprised what comes next.

People think grief is meant to help you “get rid of the past.” But grief is actually here to help you understand what is present. When someone dies, their body leaves us, but their spirit often does not. Grief is what allows us to make that transition—from relating to them in a body to relating to them in spirit.

For example, when my mother died, I’m a psychic—I can talk to anything, anytime, anywhere. But when she passed, for four months, I was blank. Every time I thought of her, I saw only her death picture. It was awful. I thought, “Come on!”

Then, one rainy day, I was home, feeling sentimental. My mom used to make chicken soup, and I thought, “God, I wish I could remember how to make that. What did she put in it?” I went to call her, and realized, “I can’t call her.” I was so upset. So I just said, “Hey Mom, what’s in that chicken soup?”

And then I started getting a list of ingredients in my mind. I said, “Okay, thank you. I see you.” I still couldn’t see her—I still saw the death image—but my body and mind were processing the reality that she was no longer in a physical body. Even as a professional, I had to make that transition. It was uncomfortable. It wasn’t easy.

When love or complication is involved, we relate differently. But the idea of grief is to help us change our relationship—from how something existed, to how it exists today.

It’s fascinating—when I’m in the presence of someone with gifts like yours, memories surface of things I’ve grieved, am grieving, or could grieve. Many viewers know Mandy and I run a breathwork and meditation studio in Orange County, and I often feel it when someone with that kind of presence walks in. Just their hello carries something. Recently, a woman entered, and I felt it instantly—later I learned she was a Unity pastor. That presence creates a safe space for grief, which our culture rarely allows. Grieving isn’t seen as productive or valuable, so it often isn’t safe to express.

Tracee Dunblazier: I agree. But here’s what I’ve learned: when people own where they’re at—in any part of life, whether you’re corporate, creative, or wherever you find yourself—nobody messes with you.

I learned this in New York. I was waiting tables, working as a waitress, and I had just gone through a devastating breakup. It was unexpected, and I was heartbroken. I’d be crying inside, but still serving: “Did you want red wine or white with that? Caesar or chopped salad? Okay, I’ll have that right out.” Everyone in that restaurant knew me. It was a family-owned establishment, with mostly regulars, and they just let me be myself.

That’s the thing: when you own where you’re at, you don’t have to hide it. I’m not saying break down in the middle of a board meeting, but if it happens, don’t be ashamed. Maybe you excuse yourself, cry in the bathroom, and then come back: “I was frustrated, I needed to let it go, and now I’m back.”

When you own it, people respect you. I used to cry on the subway all the time—sometimes for the whole 30-minute ride. Usually, it was unhoused people or other sensitive souls who would acknowledge me. Sometimes they’d ask if I was okay; sometimes they’d simply sit beside me to share warmth.

When you let yourself be where you are, you give others permission not to fix it. That’s the problem in our society: we can’t stand criers. We shun them because we live in the fantasy that grief is something broken that must be fixed.

But grief doesn’t mean something is broken. It’s a bridge between you and your understanding.

When I work with people, I often remind them: You can set boundaries around your grieving. For example, when someone dies, families often fall into conflict. I encourage people to say, “Hey, I understand my crying makes you uncomfortable, but that’s your issue. You don’t have to do anything for me. I won’t be offended if you walk away or if you just stand there. I’ll get through it myself.”

That kind of honesty allows grief to flow naturally. Everyone is going to have their own relationship with grief, especially in long-term illness. The conflict arises when we try to control how someone else expresses it. But sometimes the healthiest thing we can do is just let them be.

This has been such a wonderful conversation—a masterclass on grief. I’m curious about the concept of channeling. That’s something you can do. How might it be connected to grief?

Tracee Dunblazier: Grief and grieving are the first tools we use to channel. Grief is what clears the channel—clears the heart and mind—so we’re open to new ideas, unexpected information, or messages from places we didn’t anticipate.

When we grieve, it clears space within us. At least for a little while, it allows us to receive. Everyone channels all the time. Telepathy is a form of channeling. People often notice how they channel in relationships, especially in love or sexual relationships, because intimacy creates an ongoing exchange of energy, regardless of where you are in the world.

We accept that twins can do this naturally, but in reality, we all do. In some discordant relationships, people learn to numb each other out—to cut off the cord because it’s too much or they don’t know how to handle it. But whether we embrace or resist it, we’re all in a relationship with the ways we “cord” into people, telepathically communicate, or receive higher-frequency messages.

I’m curious if you’d want to bring a message—a channeled message, perhaps about grief. Everyone channels differently. Would you be interested in bringing a message today?

Tracee Dunblazier: Of course.

Do you need to grieve first to clear the channel? Should we have a cry session here? That would be a great marketing tool.

Tracee Dunblazier: (laughs) Exactly. What I do need to do is just take a moment.

[Tracee pauses.]

When we ask, we are channeling—to someone, to something, to ourselves—to understand the multiple dimensions of a situation or experience. But oftentimes we refuse the answer.

When you ask “why,” be willing to receive the answer. “Why did this happen to me? Why is this happening? What is this? Why am I like this?” All of those whys are their own separate bidding to the universe. They’re a cord you send out for someone—or something—to receive. And they will.

You are your most potent when you are consolidated. Your energy doesn’t have to be clear or unemotional; it just has to be present. That’s the point at which you have all that you are to break through and create any connection you need—like any channel out there—to receive what you’re looking for.

Many people are seeking various things right now, but they often reject the answer when it’s not what they expected or wanted. Resistance is the first line of refusal: “That’s not true. That can’t be right. I don’t think that’s right.” The more quickly you say “no,” it’s probably “yes.”

The message today is: take stock of the questions you’ve sent out, waiting for answers. Pull each one back by taking the answer. The answer is there for you. Take it in, pull it in. That will help you feel empowered in what you do next.

Thank you. What are the ways people can work with you in terms of their grief? How can they connect with you and get your support?

Tracee Dunblazier: You can connect with me on social media—Facebook, Instagram, and YouTube. You can book a session at heal.me/traceedunblazier, and you can see everything I do—my news media, my books—at traceedunblazier.com.

You’ll be speaking at Conscious Life Expo in February 2026 on this very topic. Could you tell us a little bit about the presentation and why people should join you there?

Tracee Dunblazier: It’s going to be fun. I’ll be teaching Channeling 101, which will help people understand not only how they’re already channeling, but also give them a protocol to deliberately begin channeling information. The goal is for people to feel connected, comfortable, safe, and at ease with the process.

It’s part of the after-conference workshops on Monday, and I’m really looking forward to it. The protocol I’ll be teaching was given to me years ago, and it helped me finally visualize what was happening when I channeled. That’s what I want to offer others.

Wonderful. People can purchase tickets at ConsciousLifeExpo.com. What a wonderful conversation with you, Tracee. Thank you so much. We could have talked about a million subjects, but I’m glad we honed in on your book. I highly encourage people to pick up Transformative Grief: An Ancient Ritual of Healing for Modern Times. 

Tracee Dunblazier: So good to see you, too. I really enjoyed this today.

I love your kitty cats right behind you. Do you have just one?

Tracee Dunblazier: I have two cats and two huskies. And I’m fostering three barn cats right now for a friend—so yes, I have an abundance of cats!

That’s awesome. Could you share a little about your upcoming workshop at the Awakened Lifestyle Expo? 

Tracee Dunblazier: I’m so excited about this workshop at the Awakened Lifestyle Expo. It’s all about crystals—and all the ways we can use them in daily life: for manifesting, for creating clarity, for helping us grieve or transition through situations, and for divining a deeper understanding of who we are, where we’re at, what’s happening, and what our power is in it all.

I really hope you’ll come. It’s going to be a fantastic day on December 7th, and I look forward to meeting you there.