Ysette Guevara is an Akashic Record Reader.
Ysette started working in the Akashic Records in September 2014. Since then she has been inspired to integrate all aspects of her life by bringing everything into alignment with her deepest learning. Whether she is attuning to subtle energies, flying high on a trapeze, or facilitating personal development and self care workshops, Ysette approaches every arena in her life as sacred space. She regards each activity as an opportunity to come into the fullness of herself in joy, integrity, trust, and presence. Her ability to manage significant life transitions with heart, grace, and humor is her greatest strength. Each experience has yielded invaluable gifts that she pays forward in her work with foster youth and youth development professionals. Professionally and socially she is known for her ability to hold individuals in loving attention.
My earliest memory is of crawling around a condominium to explore its every nook and cranny. It wasn’t my first home, but the second of ten places I would live in by the age of 18. What kept me centered through those moves—including a sudden displacement from the Philippines to a California boarding school—was my love of learning and play. I grew up as an only child and kept myself entertained and engaged in books, science experiments, and crafts. This extended organically into a love of sharing knowledge, and in high school I began a lifelong practice of teaching others.
In grad school I imagined becoming the sort of college professor who would evoke a sense of wonder in her students, feed their curiosity, and witness their intellectual growth. I envisioned myself in a book-lined office with a Persian rug on the floor and a view onto a grassy quad. If I looked out the window, I could see people reading and playing frisbee. The door to my office would be open to a steady stream of students eager to talk about their ideas and dreams.
It was such a vivid vision, I was certain it would materialize. But in my PhD program I found myself swimming upstream (and hating school!) for the very first time. Long before I finished my degree I knew I’d never find happiness in academia because I hated the person I’d become. I had no idea how to remedy all that by graduation. Free of any institutional attachments and without a vision for my future, I leaped toward an abyss.
Although I’d started exploring a few alternative paths, nothing felt right and I got no job offers. Despair and doubt set in around my self-worth. I had let go of my years’ long identity as a scholar, and felt cut off from any externally validating source of value. I had few tools to manage acute existential angst. Eventually I got exhausted trying to keep my head above water so I let myself sink.
That’s when I discovered that I wasn’t about to drown. Underwater everything was awfully quiet. If I just relaxed, I could breathe. From this place of stillness I collected myself and took stock of what I absolutely knew I loved doing, what I still dreamed of, and what I had going in my favor. I knew I had to keep learning and teaching, I knew I still wanted to work with young people, and I knew that I was smart, resourceful, and gifted in a classroom setting. I also started sensing that what was missing in grad school was heart.
In this state of clarity I heard my husband remark that his mentoring group had no idea how to prepare their young people for adulthood. These youth were in foster care, and their mentors were sometimes the only consistent adult presences in their lives. Presented with this problem, something inside me lit up, and within months I found myself holding space for New York City’s most vulnerable youth to discover who they were and who they wanted to become.
Inventing my dream job was thrilling, and I threw mind, body, and soul into my business. I made heart connections with the youth and colleagues I worked with, and I felt my world grow. This expansive energy, however, shifted abruptly when my dad died in the spring of 2014. I handled my grief by keeping all engines running. If I’d been attuned to signs, I would have seen the writing on the wall: That summer, due to a number of changes in my client organizations, my consulting dried up. But I simply rerouted my energies to different projects. My ego also said yes to any committee that wanted me.
By the fall I had worked myself sick. I kept trying to remedy the situation with massages, naps, vacations, and retreats. After every bandaid fell off, I hopped right back on the hamster wheel. I really needed to shutter my business to stop the cycle. If I’d thought graduating without a plan was scary, having to quit what I thought was my life’s purpose was exponentially more terrifying: I’d failed at my reason for being.
I started searching for answers in earnest while burning out. This is when I found Cheryl’s website. During our first reading I asked about deepening my spiritual path, and my masters, teachers, and loved ones suggested I work in the Records myself.