My name is Paula Schmidt, and I’ve been shy all my life...
But when my beloved sister asked me to give a toast at her wedding, I didn’t think twice.
As I stood up before the large, expectant crowd, I was so nervous I thought I’d crack my champagne glass. And yet... as I looked at Julia’s beautiful, shining face, telling stories about the grace and bravery with which she’s carried our family through loss, wishing her well on their adventure through life together... the words carried me away.
When I finished, there was a ringing silence.
And then a standing ovation.
Best of all - Julia’s happy tears. Maybe a shy person could speak up after all.
I began reading aloud to my husband in the evenings, practicing my diction.
He’s incredibly supportive - and knows how stubborn I am once I put my mind to something. After all, we’ve been together nearly fifteen years; through miscarriages, mistakes, losses and many a lean time, living on potatoes and onions, digging through our cushions for gas money. So, you see, I came by that marriage advice I shared with my sister honestly. After our first miscarriage, I was diagnosed with two autoimmune diseases. We were told they were irreversible. I was devastated. This was not the journey I wanted.
As I mourned our lost son, I realized how much fear and self-loathing I carried. I resented myself for losing our child. I resented my body for ‘being sick’, especially when I've always been so diligent about wellness. I resented the strains I’d placed on us with my medical care. And my beloved husband was grieving and unhappy too. We were faltering, badly. To top it off, I felt like a fraud at work. I knew I was in the wrong industry, but despite years of my best efforts, I still hadn’t proven good enough to transition into my dream career.
I was a failure.
One day, at rock-bottom, feeling bewildered and broken and with no idea what to do, a dear friend took me out for coffee. “Have you ever heard of Ayahuasca?” she said.
Ayahuasca. The sacred jungle brew that bestowed…vomiting and diarrhea and ten years of therapy crashed together in one single night. Yes, of course I’d heard of it. Until that moment, I had absolutely zero yearning to speak with a ancient plant deity for guidance, especially not if it meant possibly crapping my pants in a room full of strangers. And have I mentioned that, at the time, I was fiercely atheist?
But that morning, something was different.
Sitting there with C in the sunshine, a warm cortado in my hands, at just the mention of Ayahuasca, I felt a vibrant, full-body tingling all over. I felt as if I were looking up at C from the bottom of a well, and she’d thrown me down a lifeline.
We rarely get to pick our struggles, but we can choose to become the heroes of our own lives regardless. Suddenly, I knew what I needed to do. I needed to submit to the universe, and ask for help.
So I did.
I did squillions of anxious research, and launched on an ultra-strict, looong dieta and meditation regimen well beforehand, by turns completely terrified and elated by my secret new quest. But the moment I began my first journey in Ayahuasca, my fear and awe were utterly & instantly dissolved in a pure, otherworldly love. As so many others have experienced, the nights I spent in ceremony are, to this day, some of the most treasured moments of my entire life. It was intense, yes. I did not crap my pants, no. And not only did Mother Ayahuasca take away my fear and help me make peace with many things, She gave me a vision.
The vision's name was Ouma.
The troubled, reluctant young healer appeared in my mind, and refused to leave.
Ouma wasn’t me. I didn’t know who or what she was, what my visions of her meant, why they kept getting stronger, or what she wanted from me.
It was almost a year before I realized: she was a story.
And Ouma refused to let me forget about her. Because she was on the cusp of an epic quest across an ancient, magical world - and even though she felt like a fraud, incapable of the task the Fates asked of her, she was the last of her murdered tribe, and the only one who could avenge her people.
She wasn’t just a story, I realized.
She was a guide.
As Ouma traveled with her otherworldly allies and unlikely friends, I began writing Evening’s Kingdom in a fever dream, before and after my day job. While Ouma unlocked a whole new world, I wrote, and edited, and edited, and edited.
A little over a year later, I'd written not one, but two books - and realized many more were still to come. My husband and I had come to love our nightly readings, and over our sweet potatoes one night it hit me. I bolted up as if I’d been zapped: Evening’s Kingdom would make a fantastic podcast. And I could read it! And so, in the small hours before and after my dayjob, I began serializing Books One and Two into cinematic, biweekly episodes, while continuing to write the rest of the series.
Like Ouma, many of us don’t want the particular ticket we received from the Fates. Yet here we are, on the ride regardless.
Like Ouma, we can choose to become the hero of our own story. We can make friends along the strange paths life forces us down. We can witness and dance with the magic, the Mystery, which connects all of us. Because life is magic.
I’m still on my wellness journey. I'm grateful to say that, with a lot of work, my Hashimotos is now in full remission! But we’ve had two more miscarriages. If I let myself stop to think about it, I do still feel, very much, like a failure. Life rarely gives us clear answers. But sometimes, she gives us a gift instead.
I believe Evening’s Kingdom is such a gift, truly from beyond the horizons, and all rational understanding. The story is a bit like Game of Thrones meets Ayahuasca, and I hope it will bring you as much joy as it brings me.
At the very least, I hope it will bring a little magic into your day. Please enjoy :)
Listen in via:
EveningsKingdom.com,
Apple Music, and
Spotify.
As I stood up before the large, expectant crowd, I was so nervous I thought I’d crack my champagne glass. And yet... as I looked at Julia’s beautiful, shining face, telling stories about the grace and bravery with which she’s carried our family through loss, wishing her well on their adventure through life together... the words carried me away.
When I finished, there was a ringing silence.
And then a standing ovation.
Best of all - Julia’s happy tears. Maybe a shy person could speak up after all.
I began reading aloud to my husband in the evenings, practicing my diction.
He’s incredibly supportive - and knows how stubborn I am once I put my mind to something. After all, we’ve been together nearly fifteen years; through miscarriages, mistakes, losses and many a lean time, living on potatoes and onions, digging through our cushions for gas money. So, you see, I came by that marriage advice I shared with my sister honestly. After our first miscarriage, I was diagnosed with two autoimmune diseases. We were told they were irreversible. I was devastated. This was not the journey I wanted.
As I mourned our lost son, I realized how much fear and self-loathing I carried. I resented myself for losing our child. I resented my body for ‘being sick’, especially when I've always been so diligent about wellness. I resented the strains I’d placed on us with my medical care. And my beloved husband was grieving and unhappy too. We were faltering, badly. To top it off, I felt like a fraud at work. I knew I was in the wrong industry, but despite years of my best efforts, I still hadn’t proven good enough to transition into my dream career.
I was a failure.
One day, at rock-bottom, feeling bewildered and broken and with no idea what to do, a dear friend took me out for coffee. “Have you ever heard of Ayahuasca?” she said.
Ayahuasca. The sacred jungle brew that bestowed…vomiting and diarrhea and ten years of therapy crashed together in one single night. Yes, of course I’d heard of it. Until that moment, I had absolutely zero yearning to speak with a ancient plant deity for guidance, especially not if it meant possibly crapping my pants in a room full of strangers. And have I mentioned that, at the time, I was fiercely atheist?
But that morning, something was different.
Sitting there with C in the sunshine, a warm cortado in my hands, at just the mention of Ayahuasca, I felt a vibrant, full-body tingling all over. I felt as if I were looking up at C from the bottom of a well, and she’d thrown me down a lifeline.
We rarely get to pick our struggles, but we can choose to become the heroes of our own lives regardless. Suddenly, I knew what I needed to do. I needed to submit to the universe, and ask for help.
So I did.
I did squillions of anxious research, and launched on an ultra-strict, looong dieta and meditation regimen well beforehand, by turns completely terrified and elated by my secret new quest. But the moment I began my first journey in Ayahuasca, my fear and awe were utterly & instantly dissolved in a pure, otherworldly love. As so many others have experienced, the nights I spent in ceremony are, to this day, some of the most treasured moments of my entire life. It was intense, yes. I did not crap my pants, no. And not only did Mother Ayahuasca take away my fear and help me make peace with many things, She gave me a vision.
The vision's name was Ouma.
The troubled, reluctant young healer appeared in my mind, and refused to leave.
Ouma wasn’t me. I didn’t know who or what she was, what my visions of her meant, why they kept getting stronger, or what she wanted from me.
It was almost a year before I realized: she was a story.
And Ouma refused to let me forget about her. Because she was on the cusp of an epic quest across an ancient, magical world - and even though she felt like a fraud, incapable of the task the Fates asked of her, she was the last of her murdered tribe, and the only one who could avenge her people.
She wasn’t just a story, I realized.
She was a guide.
As Ouma traveled with her otherworldly allies and unlikely friends, I began writing Evening’s Kingdom in a fever dream, before and after my day job. While Ouma unlocked a whole new world, I wrote, and edited, and edited, and edited.
A little over a year later, I'd written not one, but two books - and realized many more were still to come. My husband and I had come to love our nightly readings, and over our sweet potatoes one night it hit me. I bolted up as if I’d been zapped: Evening’s Kingdom would make a fantastic podcast. And I could read it! And so, in the small hours before and after my dayjob, I began serializing Books One and Two into cinematic, biweekly episodes, while continuing to write the rest of the series.
Like Ouma, many of us don’t want the particular ticket we received from the Fates. Yet here we are, on the ride regardless.
Like Ouma, we can choose to become the hero of our own story. We can make friends along the strange paths life forces us down. We can witness and dance with the magic, the Mystery, which connects all of us. Because life is magic.
I’m still on my wellness journey. I'm grateful to say that, with a lot of work, my Hashimotos is now in full remission! But we’ve had two more miscarriages. If I let myself stop to think about it, I do still feel, very much, like a failure. Life rarely gives us clear answers. But sometimes, she gives us a gift instead.
I believe Evening’s Kingdom is such a gift, truly from beyond the horizons, and all rational understanding. The story is a bit like Game of Thrones meets Ayahuasca, and I hope it will bring you as much joy as it brings me.
At the very least, I hope it will bring a little magic into your day. Please enjoy :)
Listen in via:
EveningsKingdom.com,
Apple Music, and
Spotify.