In this issue of All Things Alchemical ... the archetype of The Visionary, inspired poetry, wisdom from Owl, a yummy corn recipe and words of wisdom from Virgil

Kendra Goheen
Kendra S. Goheen, CPCC
Intuitive Guide
Certified Life Coach

St. Paul, MN

connect LIKE Kendra Goheen on Facebook CONNECT with Kendra Goheen on Linked In Watch Kendra Goheen on You Tube
ring 651.482.8244
sign up Visualization Mastery 4 Part Series
join All Things Alchemical Facebook Group

We want to hear from you!  Give us your feedback, join our Facebook group.  We want to build a community of like-minded and like-hearted dabblers, serious students, curious individuals, or teachers of the mystical realm.

Did you receive this newsletter from a friend?  Sign-up here to receive your own copy each month. You'll also receive Kendra's FREE E-Series, Visualization Mastery in Everyday Life.

If you are ready to discover your own internal guidance system, recently I discussed with Deborah Jane Wells, host of the internet radio show Choose Your Energy, Change Your Life!, why the solution to our challenges comes through awakening our internal guide--an infallible spirit--the one that believes we are worthy of our highest aspirations and can lead us to live fearlessly.

All shows are recorded, so you can listen to the show recording here.




“They can because they think they can.”
- Virgil


Sign-up here to receive an email whenever the blog is updated. What are you weaving into the tapestry of your life?  This month's blog post captures my recent experience being interviewed on the internet radio program Choose Your Energy: Change Your Life!


In August we’re looking at The Warrior


Symbolic Living Through the Lens of an Archetype
In case you are new to this newsletter, here is a short description of how archetypes work in our lives ...

If we are to break down the work of viewing your life from a symbolic state, there are a few things to consider.  First, there is an energy body that surrounds you called chakras (for more definition in detail please visit  This energy body contains all the data of your biology and your biography.  If you step away and view the body in this way, you will see that this energy manifests in patterns of archetypes that affect your life.
Archetypes are patterns of intelligence – dynamic living forms of energy that are shared in many people’s thoughts and emotions across cultures and countries.  These patterns, often ancient in origin, populate our minds and lives in ways that affect us deeply.
Each archetypal energy pattern is linked to a characteristic that shows up in crucial behaviors and relationships and often gives you clues to your life’s mission – a running theme, per se, in your life.
The study and teaching of these patterns have become a passion of mine, and I’ve realized that my Teacher archetype plays a significant role in bringing you one archetype a month to explore in your own lives. 





A Prayer for Summer

At the rising of your sun
Lord God,
Creator of light,
at the rising of your sun each morning,
let the greatest of all lights - your love - rise,
like the sun,
within my heart.

-A De LaSalle Brother

In This Issue ...

Did you receive this newsletter from a friend?  Sign-up here to receive your own copy each month. You'll also receive Kendra's FREE E-Series, Visualization Mastery in Everyday Life.

In This Issue ...

Did you receive this newsletter from a friend?  Sign-up here to receive your own copy each month. You'll also receive Kendra's FREE E-Series, Visualization Mastery in Everyday Life.

July 2013

Greetings Anne!

Visionary:  One having unusual foresight and imagination (Merriam–Webster) 

When I reflected on the Visionary archetype and all the people I have known or read about, I came to the end of my list and had one thought,
“Isn’t God the ultimate of all Visionaries?  Isn’t he the one who leads the pack, who started the revolution?”

A Visionary: “One having unusual foresight and imagination” (Merriam-Webster); one who “…  imagine(s) possibilities that are beyond the scope of their individual life…” (Myss).

It is because of God’s vision for all of us that all things are possible – that allows me to trust in a dream or a vision, that others may not agree with, or understand, or like.  The human spirit, as I wrote about in my blog this month, has the innate ability and courage to persevere.  If you had had coffee with God prior to his creation and he had shared his plan – would you have been on board?  Would you have thought he was ten shades of crazy?  Or would you have jubilantly celebrated with him, his dream – his vision? 

God, the ultimate of Visionaries, is the one who holds space for us to do just as he has done and continues to do – create – create – create.  

Long for the fruition of all your dreams and then just go for it.  See it through and then be still with the words God spoke about his creation, “It is good”  (Genesis 2).




PS. Please email me directly to give feedback if there is something else you would like to see in each issue.


Works Cited


Myss, Caroline.  Sacred Contracts: Awakening Your Divine Potential. New York: Three Rivers Press, 

     2002, 2003. 421. Print.


“visionary.” Merriam-Webster, 2013. Web. 14 July 2013.


Symbolic Living Through the Lens of an Archetype

The Visionary

The Visionary archetype lets you imagine possibilities that are beyond the scope of your individual life and that benefit all of society. The Visionary brings into view what could be if certain choices are made, or what is inevitable given choices that have already been made. The Prophet proclaims a message associated with divine guidance, as in the Hebrew prophets, some of whom also appear in the Quran. (Islam reveres both Jesus and John the Baptist as prophets.) Both the Visionary and the Prophet engage their abilities in behalf of humanity rather than for personal use, but while many Prophets are rejected by the group they were sent to enlighten, Visionaries tend to be celebrated for their capacity to read what is just over the horizon. 

The shadow Prophet or Visionary manifests as a willingness to sell one's visionary abilities to the highest bidder, or to alter one's vision to make it more acceptable to society. In extreme cases, tainted visions may lead entire societies into murderous or destructive rampages; then the Destroyer archetype may supersede the Visionary, as in the case of Hitler, Stalin, and Mao.


  • Eric Ebouaney in Lumumba; 
  • Peter Finch in Network  (shadow).


  • Hebrew Prophets (Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, and others who often chastised powerful leaders while calling the people's attention to their own failings); 
  • Muhammad (the final Prophet of Islam, who directed God’s message to the Arab people through the Quran); 
  • Baha'u'llah (nineteenth-century Iranian prophet who founded the Bahai Faith, spreading his vision of "one universal Cause, one common Faith"); 
  • Cassandra (in Greek lore, daughter of the king and queen of Troy who was given the gift of prophecy by Apollo in an attempt by him to seduce her; because she refused his advances, he made all her prophecies fall on deaf ears); 
  • Zarathustra (prophet and founder of Zoroastrianism). 


Work Cited


Myss, Caroline.  Sacred Contracts: Awakening Your Divine Potential.  New York: Three Rivers Press, 

     2002, 2003.  421.  Print.



A Sister’s Eulogy for Steve Jobs

October 30, 2011

Even as a feminist, my whole life I’d been waiting for a man to love, who could love me. For decades, I’d thought that man would be my father. When I was 25, I met that man and he was my brother.

By then, I lived in New York, where I was trying to write my first novel. I had a job at a small magazine in an office the size of a closet, with three other aspiring writers. When one day a lawyer called me — me, the middle-class girl from California who hassled the boss to buy us health insurance — and said his client was rich and famous and was my long-lost brother, the young editors went wild. This was 1985 and we worked at a cutting-edge literary magazine, but I’d fallen into the plot of a Dickens novel and really, we all loved those best. The lawyer refused to tell me my brother’s name and my colleagues started a betting pool. The leading candidate: John Travolta. I secretly hoped for a literary descendant of Henry James — someone more talented than I, someone brilliant without even trying.

When I met Steve, he was a guy my age in jeans, Arab- or Jewish-looking and handsomer than Omar Sharif.

We took a long walk — something, it happened, that we both liked to do. I don’t remember much of what we said that first day, only that he felt like someone I’d pick to be a friend. He explained that he worked in computers.

I didn’t know much about computers. I still worked on a manual Olivetti typewriter.

I told Steve I’d recently considered my first purchase of a computer: something called the Cromemco.

Steve told me it was a good thing I’d waited. He said he was making something that was going to be insanely beautiful.

I want to tell you a few things I learned from Steve, during three distinct periods, over the 27 years I knew him. They’re not periods of years, but of states of being. His full life. His illness. His dying.

Steve worked at what he loved. He worked really hard. Every day.

That’s incredibly simple, but true.

He was the opposite of absent-minded.

He was never embarrassed about working hard, even if the results were failures. If someone as smart as Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit trying, maybe I didn’t have to be.

When he got kicked out of Apple, things were painful. He told me about a dinner at which 500 Silicon Valley leaders met the then-sitting president. Steve hadn’t been invited.

He was hurt but he still went to work at Next. Every single day.

Novelty was not Steve’s highest value. Beauty was.

For an innovator, Steve was remarkably loyal. If he loved a shirt, he’d order 10 or 100 of them. In the Palo Alto house, there are probably enough black cotton turtlenecks for everyone in this church.

He didn’t favor trends or gimmicks. He liked people his own age.

His philosophy of aesthetics reminds me of a quote that went something like this: “Fashion is what seems beautiful now but looks ugly later; art can be ugly at first but it becomes beautiful later.”

Steve always aspired to make beautiful later.

He was willing to be misunderstood.

Uninvited to the ball, he drove the third or fourth iteration of his same black sports car to Next, where he and his team were quietly inventing the platform on which Tim Berners-Lee would write the program for the World Wide Web.

Steve was like a girl in the amount of time he spent talking about love. Love was his supreme virtue, his god of gods. He tracked and worried about the romantic lives of the people working with him.

Whenever he saw a man he thought a woman might find dashing, he called out, “Hey are you single? Do you wanna come to dinner with my sister?”

I remember when he phoned the day he met Laurene. “There’s this beautiful woman and she’s really smart and she has this dog and I’m going to marry her.”

When Reed was born, he began gushing and never stopped. He was a physical dad, with each of his children. He fretted over Lisa’s boyfriends and Erin’s travel and skirt lengths and Eve’s safety around the horses she adored.

None of us who attended Reed’s graduation party will ever forget the scene of Reed and Steve slow dancing.

His abiding love for Laurene sustained him. He believed that love happened all the time, everywhere. In that most important way, Steve was never ironic, never cynical, never pessimistic. I try to learn from that, still.

Steve had been successful at a young age, and he felt that had isolated him. Most of the choices he made from the time I knew him were designed to dissolve the walls around him. A middle-class boy from Los Altos, he fell in love with a middle-class girl from New Jersey. It was important to both of them to raise Lisa, Reed, Erin and Eve as grounded, normal children. Their house didn’t intimidate with art or polish; in fact, for many of the first years I knew Steve and Lo together, dinner was served on the grass, and sometimes consisted of just one vegetable. Lots of that one vegetable. But one. Broccoli. In season. Simply prepared. With just the right, recently snipped, herb.

Even as a young millionaire, Steve always picked me up at the airport. He’d be standing there in his jeans.

When a family member called him at work, his secretary Linetta answered, “Your dad’s in a meeting. Would you like me to interrupt him?”

When Reed insisted on dressing up as a witch every Halloween, Steve, Laurene, Erin and Eve all went wiccan.

They once embarked on a kitchen remodel; it took years. They cooked on a hotplate in the garage. The Pixar building, under construction during the same period, finished in half the time. And that was it for the Palo Alto house. The bathrooms stayed old. But — and this was a crucial distinction — it had been a great house to start with; Steve saw to that.

This is not to say that he didn’t enjoy his success: he enjoyed his success a lot, just minus a few zeros. He told me how much he loved going to the Palo Alto bike store and gleefully realizing he could afford to buy the best bike there.

And he did.

Steve was humble. Steve liked to keep learning.

Once, he told me if he’d grown up differently, he might have become a mathematician. He spoke reverently about colleges and loved walking around the Stanford campus. In the last year of his life, he studied a book of paintings by Mark Rothko, an artist he hadn’t known about before, thinking of what could inspire people on the walls of a future Apple campus.

Steve cultivated whimsy. What other C.E.O. knows the history of English and Chinese tea roses and has a favorite David Austin rose?

He had surprises tucked in all his pockets. I’ll venture that Laurene will discover treats — songs he loved, a poem he cut out and put in a drawer — even after 20 years of an exceptionally close marriage. I spoke to him every other day or so, but when I opened The New York Times and saw a feature on the company’s patents, I was still surprised and delighted to see a sketch for a perfect staircase.

With his four children, with his wife, with all of us, Steve had a lot of fun.

He treasured happiness.

Then, Steve became ill and we watched his life compress into a smaller circle. Once, he’d loved walking through Paris. He’d discovered a small handmade soba shop in Kyoto. He downhill skied gracefully. He cross-country skied clumsily. No more.

Eventually, even ordinary pleasures, like a good peach, no longer appealed to him.

Yet, what amazed me, and what I learned from his illness, was how much was still left after so much had been taken away.

I remember my brother learning to walk again, with a chair. After his liver transplant, once a day he would get up on legs that seemed too thin to bear him, arms pitched to the chair back. He’d push that chair down the Memphis hospital corridor towards the nursing station and then he’d sit down on the chair, rest, turn around and walk back again. He counted his steps and, each day, pressed a little farther.

Laurene got down on her knees and looked into his eyes.

“You can do this, Steve,” she said. His eyes widened. His lips pressed into each other.

He tried. He always, always tried, and always with love at the core of that effort. He was an intensely emotional man.

I realized during that terrifying time that Steve was not enduring the pain for himself. He set destinations: his son Reed’s graduation from high school, his daughter Erin’s trip to Kyoto, the launching of a boat he was building on which he planned to take his family around the world and where he hoped he and Laurene would someday retire.

Even ill, his taste, his discrimination and his judgment held. He went through 67 nurses before finding kindred spirits and then he completely trusted the three who stayed with him to the end. Tracy. Arturo. Elham.

One time when Steve had contracted a tenacious pneumonia his doctor forbid everything — even ice. We were in a standard I.C.U. unit. Steve, who generally disliked cutting in line or dropping his own name, confessed that this once, he’d like to be treated a little specially.

I told him: Steve, this is special treatment.

He leaned over to me, and said: “I want it to be a little more special.”

Intubated, when he couldn’t talk, he asked for a notepad. He sketched devices to hold an iPad in a hospital bed. He designed new fluid monitors and x-ray equipment. He redrew that not-quite-special-enough hospital unit. And every time his wife walked into the room, I watched his smile remake itself on his face.

For the really big, big things, you have to trust me, he wrote on his sketchpad. He looked up. You have to.

By that, he meant that we should disobey the doctors and give him a piece of ice.

None of us knows for certain how long we’ll be here. On Steve’s better days, even in the last year, he embarked upon projects and elicited promises from his friends at Apple to finish them. Some boat builders in the Netherlands have a gorgeous stainless steel hull ready to be covered with the finishing wood. His three daughters remain unmarried, his two youngest still girls, and he’d wanted to walk them down the aisle as he’d walked me the day of my wedding.

We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories.

I suppose it’s not quite accurate to call the death of someone who lived with cancer for years unexpected, but Steve’s death was unexpected for us.

What I learned from my brother’s death was that character is essential: What he was, was how he died.

Tuesday morning, he called me to ask me to hurry up to Palo Alto. His tone was affectionate, dear, loving, but like someone whose luggage was already strapped onto the vehicle, who was already on the beginning of his journey, even as he was sorry, truly deeply sorry, to be leaving us.

He started his farewell and I stopped him. I said, “Wait. I’m coming. I’m in a taxi to the airport. I’ll be there.”

“I’m telling you now because I’m afraid you won’t make it on time, honey.”

When I arrived, he and his Laurene were joking together like partners who’d lived and worked together every day of their lives. He looked into his children’s eyes as if he couldn’t unlock his gaze.

Until about 2 in the afternoon, his wife could rouse him, to talk to his friends from Apple.

Then, after awhile, it was clear that he would no longer wake to us.

His breathing changed. It became severe, deliberate, purposeful. I could feel him counting his steps again, pushing farther than before.

This is what I learned: he was working at this, too. Death didn’t happen to Steve, he achieved it.

He told me, when he was saying goodbye and telling me he was sorry, so sorry we wouldn’t be able to be old together as we’d always planned, that he was going to a better place.

Dr. Fischer gave him a 50/50 chance of making it through the night.

He made it through the night, Laurene next to him on the bed sometimes jerked up when there was a longer pause between his breaths. She and I looked at each other, then he would heave a deep breath and begin again.

This had to be done. Even now, he had a stern, still handsome profile, the profile of an absolutist, a romantic. His breath indicated an arduous journey, some steep path, altitude.

He seemed to be climbing.

But with that will, that work ethic, that strength, there was also sweet Steve’s capacity for wonderment, the artist’s belief in the ideal, the still more beautiful later.

Steve’s final words, hours earlier, were monosyllables, repeated three times.

Before embarking, he’d looked at his sister Patty, then for a long time at his children, then at his life’s partner, Laurene, and then over their shoulders past them.

Steve’s final words were:


Mona Simpson is a novelist and a professor of English at the University of California, Los Angeles. Since 1988, she has held the Sadie Samuelson Levy Chair in Languages and Literature at Bard College. She delivered this eulogy for her brother, Steve Jobs, on Oct. 16, 2011, at his memorial service at the Memorial Church of Stanford University.



by Yola Dunne

Vision Quest

Open your inner eye
The one that sees
and knows
most secrets.

Enter the mystery
One step only
and breathe

Deception is a game
loved by fear
look at it

Reveal the truth
dark as day
light as night
and laugh.

Nothing is what it seems
stay on the path
keep going

And as you do
be alert
see what is meant
for your eyes only.

When you are ready
come back home
with grace and love
and share.

Yes, share.




by Anne Barton

After reading about The Visionary archetype, I had the thought that Eagle (the Eagle eye?) would make a good animal match, but we featured Eagle a year ago.  Then Owl popped into my head. So I took a look at my information and discovered that Owl is sometimes called the Night Eagle.  Owl seemed an even better match for this month, signifying an almost extrasensory vision through dark, shadow, and untruth.  Owl is comfortable in the places we humans tend to avoid.  Are you ready to explore deeper?

OWL/Deception, Seeking the Hidden

•  Your keen sense of observation is being called upon in a current life situation.
•  Look for the total truth; it will bring further enlightenment.
•  Pay attention to dreams for signs.
•  You can see and know what others cannot.
•  No one can deceive you; this power may frighten people.

It seems one of the keys to exploring in unknown territory is silence.  Owl flies noiselessly, the better to take her prey by surprise, and hears everything around her in stereo, literally.  Owls have asymmetrical ears that channel sounds separately making their ability to pinpoint the noises of specific animals as razor sharp as their talons.  One of the messages Owl brings when she swoops into our view is that it is time to seek what is hidden.  You may need a guide to help, or perhaps just start by sitting quietly and seeing what is revealed to you.  The image that comes to mind for me is the Matrix – remember when it was revealed in the movie?  We want to see past the illusion and connect to what’s beneath - the truth of who we are and why we are here. 

Owl medicine is symbolically associated with clairvoyance, astral projection, and magic, both black and white.  Caution:  We must always resist any temptation to practice any art that takes energy away from another person or being.  The key to the wisdom that Owl bestows is the ability to see past deception and through the surface of what people do to who they truly are.  Others may fear you as a result.  But rather than take advantage of the fear, recognize the responsibility and the gift and embrace the new clarity and intense meaning enriching your life.

Some questions to ask when Owl is present … are you being deceived by yourself or another?  How? Are you getting caught up in ‘witchcraft’ when you might be praying for guidance instead?  What might you be in the dark about?  Owl can bring you messages at night through dreams.  Pay attention and find your way to further enlightenment.

Works Cited & Resources
Green, Susie.  Animal Wisdom:  Harness the Power of Animals to Liberate Your Spirit. 
     London: Cico Books Ltd., 2005.  Print.
Sams, Jamie, and David Carson.  Medicine Cards.  New York: St. Martin’s
     Press, 1988, 1999.  Print.   

To learn more about Anne's Animal Guide readings, as well as other readings she provides, visit     


This month's recipe from Alexandra Topp

Corn Salsa

Mix together in a large bowl: 

  • 2 cans of corn, drained
  • 1 can of Mexicorn, drained
  • 1 can of black beans, drained
  • Half of a red onion, diced
  • 2-3 avocadoes, diced
  • 1 container of cherry tomatoes, cut each tomato in half
  • Salt, pepper and onion salt to taste 
In a separate bowl mix together:
  • 1/2 cup of olive oil
  • 2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
  • Dash of salt and dash of pepper

Once the liquid mixture is put together, start to slowly pour over the corn salsa mixture. Stirring occasionally while pouring the liquid to ensure it is being well mixed. Serve chilled with tortilla chips.



Kendra Goheen is an Intuitive Guide, Spiritual Director and Certified Life Coach in the Twin Cities. To learn more visit
Yola Dunne, Yola Dunne is a Poet, Intuitive Healer and Archetype Consultant with a private wellness practice in Chelsea, Québec, Canada. For more information visit and
Anne Barton, a California native currently living outside of San Francisco, has dedicated more than 30 years to her journey of personal growth and spiritual development. Visit for more info.
Alexandra Topp, a Registered Nurse who lives in the Twin Cities, has a special interest in nutrition and healthy eating.
Vidya Dasi currently lives in Southern California but honed her skill as a Vedic Astrologer while living in India for over 25 years. You may contact Vidya about her readings at
David Frenk and Megan Doll are owners and teachers at Your Yoga Minneapolis. To learn more, visit their website at

Copyright © 2013 Kendra Goheen, All rights reserved.
Email Marketing Powered by Mailchimp