Sharon Hamilton is the owner and co-creator of Light Expression Essences LLC. She has been working with nature and the devas (nature’s angelic realm) since 1991 to co-create the Light Expression Essences. Sharon’s training has come from her direct relationship with nature and Spirit. She has been hearing and seeing aspects of the Spirit realms since childhood and uses these gifts to assist individuals in accessing their own unique soul gifts and healing abilities.
Healing with vibrational essences is Sharon’s first and foremost joy and passion in life. Sharon shares her learning from nature and Spirit through the Light Expression Essences and in the form of classes and individual essence healing sessions. These classes and sessions introduce individuals ready to consciously move their Soul’s ego-personality to higher dimensions of consciousness. The classes are also appropriate for healers working with individuals.
Living Life on the Spectrum
My early life experiences and those as a young adult were key to my life development leading to my eventual realization that I had a life mission to pursue: the task of creating my vibrational essence project Light Expression Essences.
I perceived much of what I experienced as a child as confusing and traumatic. But in the greater scheme of things, you will see as I did that these experiences (some traumatic and some mystical) were all a part of the progression of achieving my life purpose.
When I was about 2 ½ years old, my parents were preparing for their second child. They had decided to move from the home we were living in to a new larger home nearby. The new home was just a short 3 blocks from the only home I had known. The weekend of our family move into the new home I was taken to Mamie’s house so that my parents could focus on the packing and moving. I have to this day a vivid memory of the last night at our old home. I was walking through the empty house after having been at Mamie’s all weekend and felt sad and lost seeing it empty. All I wanted to know was where was my Teddy Bear? My Teddy was as large as I was and went with me everywhere. Apparently, when I was picked up from Mamie’s house, my parents took my Teddy Bear and put him in the trunk of our car to bring him to the new home.
Before settling in the new home that Sunday evening, we were invited to the neighbors who lived next door for a good bye dinner. All I remember after dinner was being put into our car and told we were going to our new home to sleep.
My parents put me in bed in my new bedroom and my only question was where is Teddy. My Dad told me Teddy was in the car and he would get him before he went to work the next morning. This was the first night I ever went to bed without Teddy.
The next morning, instead of going to Mamie’s house like usual, Mamie came to our new house to take care of me and help unpack some of our things while my parents were at work. After breakfast, Mamie took me outside to look around our new backyard. My Dad had put my sandbox in the yard and had it full of sand and my toys ready to go for me. I remember feeling happy to see something familiar in the yard and got into my sandbox ready to build sand castles.
Mamie told me to stay in the yard while she went back into the house to do something. I’m sure she was only gone for a few minutes, but in that short time I had gotten out of the sandbox and left the backyard.
The memory of leaving the back yard has always stayed fairly vivid in my mind. The feeling that drove me to leave the yard that morning was anger. I felt angry that my Dad had not brought my Teddy to my bedroom like he said he would. My 2 ¾ year old self just decided that I would go and find my Teddy Bear. I know I had help that day. I got up and said to myself I’m looking for Teddy and magically a friend appeared, took my hand, and we walked together through neighbors back yards, across a couple of streets, up a hill and into the driveway of the house my parents had just sold. It was my friend who took me to the house. I had never walked that far along and could not have found the house without help.
Once at the house, I remember walking to the backyard and banging on the door to get in. Fortunately, the neighbors who had us over for dinner the previous night saw me and came right over to see why I was there and alone. I told them my friend brought me and I was looking for Teddy. Confused by my answer, they immediately called my Mom. By that time Mamie had already notified my parents that I was missing and had called the police to start looking for me. All I remember after being found – I didn’t think I was lost – was lots of hugs and tears by my parents and Mamie.
My Dad realized in a big way just how important to me my Teddy was! He had forgotten to retrieve Teddy from the trunk of his car before leaving for work. I was given Teddy as soon as they brought me home, never to be parted again. My special friend continued to pop in whenever I felt lonely or scared. I wasn’t very interested in playing with other children, mostly because I had my special friend and my Teddy.
Once my sister was born the energy in the house changed with the hustle and bustle of baby needs. I tended to stay out of the way and played alone in my room with Teddy.
Mamie came to our house to care for me and my baby sister for a while, but after a few months, my sister and I were brought each day to Mamie’s house. The back and forth was a little confusing for my mind. Having what felt like two homes, two families kept me feeling ungrounded and uncertain about where I belonged. The one feeling I did have was being loved.
By the time I was three years old, I was becoming conscious of my ability to see disincarnate Souls. I was able to see people moving through the walls of the home in which I lived.
Late in my 3rd year, I became very ill with the flu. I was so ill that my parents admitted me to the local hospital. I constantly saw discarnate people wandering through the hospital. I remember being escorted through hospital corridors on a gurney and seeing so many disincarnate Souls that I almost felt claustrophobic. I was too young to understand what I was witnessing, and I didn’t know how to speak to my parents or anyone else about what I was experiencing.
At four years of age, I once again became very ill. I was constantly vomiting to the point of losing so much weight that I was taken to the hospital where tests revealed that I was suffering from very severe stomach ulcers. I stayed in the hospital for over a month. Again, I saw disincarnate Souls everywhere I placed my attention. This time though, I mentioned what I was seeing to a nurse. As you might expect, she felt my comments resulted from my illness which must have been causing me to be delusional because of my very weak condition. I recovered only marginally from the ulcers at that time. At five years of age when I began kindergarten, I was again very sick with inflamed ulcers and taken back to the hospital where I stayed again for over a month.
As a young child, life looked very scary. I saw people that others could not see. In addition, I had very vivid dreams of angels and spiritual masters that seemed more real to me than when I was awake. Despite the scary nature of seeing disincarnate Souls that were always present no matter where I was, there were visitations by spiritual masters that would make my heart and Soul soar. There was a distinct difference between disincarnate Souls (stuck in the lower Astral) and the Masters I saw. The disincarnate Souls looked dull and confused, while the masters glowed and exuded love and compassion.
These visitations were usually at night at my home while I was in bed. I would be awakened by light filling the room. I would open my eyes with awe, as I would see spiritual masters enter the room by simply walking through the walls. Usually, when I saw these majestic Souls light my room, I would get out of my bed and find my way to the floor and sit with them. They were my friends. They would sit and chat with me and when their visit with me was complete, they would stand and walk, floating through the walls of my bedroom. As they left, the light they were surrounded in followed them out of my bedroom.
I bruised my knees many times as I tried to follow my friends as they left flowing through the walls. These visitation experiences occurred many times throughout my early years. In later years, I realized that the visits from my friends happened for me to remember later in life, as they were to support me in the eventual creation of the Light Expression Essences project.
My daily life continued to include confusing and terrifying experiences. Some of the disincarnate Souls that I saw seemed angry, which felt scary to my young self. By the time I was ready to start kindergarten at age five, I was terrified of life. I had experienced so many disincarnate Souls and others in the realm of spirit. My first few weeks in kindergarten were an emotional nightmare. I was overwhelmed with anxiety every day. I did everything I could to avoid going to school. Being sick was my ticket to staying home. I became very good at making myself ill, which placed me at our doctor’s office regularly with nausea, fevers, and anxiety. In addition, I cried a great deal as I couldn’t stand to be in a classroom with the other children. I also could not understand the play activities we were being asked to engage in.
When I was in school, I would climb into the toy storage shelves and hide from everyone. It was after weeks of this behavior that my kindergarten teacher really started to watch me. She did her best to understand why I was so sad and scared to be in her classroom.
I was already challenged with a severe learning difference. My dyslexia was overwhelming me as I was taught basic kindergarten material. Even learning to draw was a difficult process. I couldn’t communicate well when I was young, and it was difficult to integrate what I felt was normal for me with the apparent “normal” of the other children. I couldn’t even determine how to use the crayons and watercolors. Communicating with my teacher about my problem was almost impossible.
I was blessed though. I had loving parents and caregivers who did their very best to help me. They really worked hard to keep me in school.
I was challenged all through my school years. Learning was a difficult process. I knew that I wasn’t stupid as I was able to read, write and mostly understand what was taught. I just did everything backward. I did my best to do what was asked of me, but that level of focus was extremely stressful and caused me to have constant headaches and stomach aches.
Like many people who experience dyslexia, spelling was a huge challenge. I knew the definitions of the words that I was learning, but pronouncing and spelling them made me feel stupid. Math was the other subject that I could hardly understand. Using numbers beyond adding and subtracting made no sense to my mind. Algebra was the last straw! Numbers and letters to solve a math problem was the craziest thing anyone tried to teach me. Math was my downfall in school. I think my high school math teachers must have taken pity on me, seeing how stressed and anxious I was in their class room. Many days when asked a question, my response was to cry.
I learned much by watching what other children were doing in school. I imitated their actions and observed how they did their schoolwork. I would then do everything I could to reproduce what they were accomplishing. This constant physical and emotional stress depleted my energy by the end of each day.
In spite of the stress, I managed to graduate from high school a year early after completing all the requirements for graduation. To this day I have no idea how I managed to meet these requirements. It certainly helped that my grades throughout school were mostly A’s and B’s.
I was fortunate that no one labeled my behavior as anything more than being a very sensitive person. As I became older, my ability to see disincarnate Souls diminished but, I still saw angels in church and fairies in the woods. I became acclimated to what I saw in the spirit realm. Eventually, the visions ceased. As I grew older, I began again to hear Spirit and disincarnate Souls.
As I continued to age, I did my best to fit in and be as normal as I could. Being accepted was a big motivator for me. My learning difference challenged me daily. As I got older, I had regular panic/anxiety attacks relative to how I would make a living and care for myself.
I have always been considered artistic, but I really had no ability to create art. By this, I mean that I was not able to draw. There was some disconnect between my right brain’s creative ability and the left-brain functions for connecting with a piece of paper. I remember my art teacher saying to me, “Darling, you are one of these creative, gifted, special people… but….” He said, “You’ve got everything – you see it in your head – but there’s something about your wiring….” This was my attempt at art school. My hands didn’t understand what my mind wanted to create. Then, I considered gardening as an occupation. I loved gardening and thought for a while that I could make a career in that field.
When I first met my husband, Wayne, we talked about places to live. I had a deep passion for old architecture. I was able to inspire him to purchase with me an old house that needed a great deal of work. Restoring an old home was something I could do, I thought. I had a talent for taking an old house to its bones and then bringing it back to its architectural beauty. I was very good at seeing through the existing mess and progressing that to a beautiful outcome in my mind. Then I did the dirty work of restoring the house.
I also built gardens – my way. I learned by experimenting with plants, and eventually, I felt connected to the plants so much so that I could hear them speak to me.
By the age of twenty-five, I had given birth to our son. This event triggered huge depression issues for me because I had strong emotions and fears around my perception that I had no idea how to be a mother. I struggled many days with depression and anxiety. I did my best to do what was necessary to raise our son and I felt overwhelmed to the point of physical exhaustion. The sadness I was experiencing was all I could feel on many days. I looked as though I was present, but mostly, I was in a black fog feeling lost and isolated in my own mind.
By the age of 30, I had depleted my physical strength and was finally so emotionally drained that all I could do was hope for death. I’m pretty sure that I was emotionally committing suicide – giving up and letting go.
Months after my 30th birthday, I found a lump in my breast. I contacted my doctor and was given tests to determine the problem. I was diagnosed with cancer after a biopsy, but it was not breast cancer. My surgeon was baffled and my medical team did more tests on me. The tests showed that there was no real certainty of the type of cancer, but chemotherapy was to be my treatment over the next six months.
It was during a meeting with my doctor that my life took an abrupt turn. As my doctor advised my husband and me of the diagnosis and the possible treatment options, I slipped into an altered state. I heard spirit talk to me about my illness and how I had created the cancer from all my sadness and fears. I found myself reviewing my life, all my past memories as a child – crying, scared, anxious, and afraid of everything. It was during this inner review that I heard spirit say that I had created my health challenge and, if I chose, I could collaborate with the doctors to heal my body and my emotional aversion to living an earthly existence.
At the time of my cancer diagnosis, I had a beautiful five-year-old son who I love with all my heart. As I felt what spirit was saying, I chose to live and heal in order to be able to participate in my son’s developing life. I was also told by spirit that I had a purpose and if I chose death, my purpose would not manifest. I chose to follow my purposeful path as curiosity was winning over despair. I finally completed the chemotherapy treatments and began my healing journey with the guidance of spirit.
Mamie and Poppop
When I was born, my mother was employed, very much enjoying her work. She and my father made a decision to find full-time help to care for me and eventually my younger sister during the day while my parents were at work. I was fortunate to have a wonderful loving woman, Mamie, to care for me eventually becoming a surrogate mother for me. This began when I was seven weeks old and continued until I was in the 3rd grade.
My Mom would take me to Mamie’s home at 7:30 am every morning and pick me up at 5:30 in the evening after her workday. Mamie’s home was my home five days a week. Her husband, Poppop, was like a grandfather to my sister and me. I bonded with Mamie and her husband like they were family. On weekends, I might even spend the night at their home when my parents wanted to go out for an evening of entertainment. I was at their home more of the time than I was at my own home until I was about eight years of age. I even had what I was told my own room for naptime and for spending the night there.
By the time I was entering the 2nd grade, I was feeling a great deal of separation anxiety because I was no longer at Mamie and Poppop’s home every day as I was in previous years. I was having quite a bit of trouble emotionally being separated from these two people with whom I had become attached and experienced as grandparents.
Poppop was retiring from his work about the time I was seven years of age. My younger sister had the opportunity to spend a good deal of time with him while I was in school before she began kindergarten.
When I was seven years old, Poppop had a severe heart attack. This was a very frightening experience as I loved Poppop and didn’t understand what was happening to him. He had another heart attack shortly after the first one, which changed him dramatically. I remember being very concerned about him asking him regularly if he was okay. He would respond by saying “Yes” as he lit another big cigar.
Poppop was changing, and not for the better. He was depressed and was withdrawing from all his family. I could feel his sadness and didn’t know what to do. One morning, my Mom got a phone call from Mamie saying that Poppop had transitioned during the night. When my Mom told me of Poppop’s death, I went into shock. I had just hugged him good night the day before and felt that he was struggling to be alive. He had always been jolly and caring and in the last few months of his life, he was very sad and withdrawn.
His absence had a tremendous impact on me. I felt lost without him around, and I could not understand what I was missing. Everyone in his family also seemed sad and lost after his death.
I was told that he died of a heart attack. Later, as a teenager, I discovered that this was not the truth. He actually took his own life. He had shot himself with a gun in the room at Mamie’s home that I used for my napping. The loss of Poppop was a traumatic event for everyone. I was left not knowing the real cause of his death because everyone, including my parents, thought I was too sensitive and fragile to understand and handle the truth of Poppop’s death. They were afraid that I would revisit my earlier condition of stomach ulcers if they told me the truth at that time.
My room, as I called it, at Mamie’s home had to be rebuilt, so to speak, before I was able to go into it. I was locked out of my room at Mamie’s until the family cleaned and refurbished it. As a sensitive, I felt Poppop’s energy but didn’t understand why it always felt so cold and sad to me when I went into that bedroom. I continued to use my room at Mamie’s home for a very long time.
When I was finally told, as a teenager, what had actually happened to Poppop, it was as if the entire event began again. My sadness and anger grew because I had not been told the truth. I was emotionally devastated. His death was such a big part of my childhood. Much of what I felt during my childhood was the result of not knowing the truth about Poppop’s death. I felt Poppop’s sadness. Not knowing the truth only compounded the sorrow. What I felt and what I was told didn’t match up so learning the truth of his death many years later was disorienting. As I had been able to see and feel discarnate souls, I felt Poppop whenever I went into the room where he took his life. Had I been told the truth of Poppop’s death at the time of his transition, I might have been better able to process his passing realistically. As I got older, I could appreciate my family’s choice to not tell me the real story of Poppop’s death at that time.
Me and Aunt Mildred
My Mom’s sister Aunt Mildred was a sweet, caring, kind woman whose childish and erratic behavior was difficult to understand.
When I was three years old, a lot of emotional changes were occurring all around me. Both my grandmothers were ill and declining fast, my Mom was pregnant and we had just moved to a new home. Mostly I was overwhelmed by it all. About the time my mother gave birth to my sister, my grandmother passed on. My mom and her sister Mildred were very close to their mother. My grandmother raised her three children by herself when my grandfather passed on early in his life. After my grandmother’s funeral, my aunt Mildred began a long, painful decline into a bipolar condition that she had since her early 20s.
My Mom was the stabilizing and grounding anchor for my Aunt Mildred, but with a new baby and a full-time career, she was inundated with responsibilities. Sometime after Grandma’s passing, I remember my Mom receiving a call from her brother-in-law.
Aunt Mildred was in trauma, crying, pacing, basically depressed and non-responsive to her husband. My Mom told her brother-in-law that she would be right over to help with what she could. Mom picked up my sister and me to go to Mamie’s house, per usual, only when we arrived at Mamie’s, Mom told me to stay in the car. She took my baby sister into Mamie’s house, came right back out and told me that I was going with her to my Aunt’s home to help. Once we arrived there, my Uncle quickly put on his hat and coat and said goodbye to us. He told my Mom to do whatever was necessary to help my Aunt; he was going off to work.
Well, there I stood in the living room, less than four years old, and clueless about what I was in the middle of. My Aunt was sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth, crying and very confused. My Mom told me to go and sit with my aunt and help her get calm.
I did as I was told. I sat down next to my aunt with a box of tissues and helped her blow her nose. I talked to her, but she was beyond hearing me. All she wanted was her mother. I told her that Grandma was gone, that Mom and I were there for her. Aunt Mildred tried to smile at me but burst out crying again. Because of my Aunt’s crying, I felt scared and uncertain about what to do to help my Aunt feel better. I got up and went over to ask my mom for help. She was using the phone at the time to call the doctor. So, all that I got from my Mom for an answer was to stay with my Aunt, hold her hand, and dry her tears.
My Mom contacted the doctor who told her that they were sending an ambulance to take my aunt to the hospital. Electric shock therapy was up next for my Aunt. The prescriptions that they were giving my Aunt seemed useless during this breakdown. I watched as the medical team came into the apartment to take my Aunt to the hospital. She cried and screamed because she did not want to go with them. She even grabbed me and begged me to tell them to go away. It felt like my Mom was in shock, my Aunt was falling apart and I was left to help the medical team get my Aunt out of the apartment and down the stairs to the ambulance. My Aunt wouldn’t let go of my hand until the ambulance driver pried it loose. I watched them put her, kicking and screaming, into the ambulance, strap her down, shut the doors and drive off.
My Mom came outside just as the ambulance drove off. That was my first conscious experience with my Aunt and her bipolar condition. She stayed in the hospital for about a month and was finally sent home. She stayed with us for a while; her husband said he couldn’t take care of her, as he needed to be at work. My Aunt’s bipolar swings were severe and I was the person my Mom went to when my Aunt was in emotional trauma. My Mom’s instructions were simple: don’t let your Aunt out of your sight; try to keep her smiling; dry her tears and wipe her nose; and try to keep her quiet. No matter how depressed or manic my Aunt would get, I, beginning at less than four years of age, was the go-to person for helping my Aunt.
This situation with my Aunt Mildred became very matter-of-fact for me. It occurred fairly often over the years and finally got so bad that my Aunt was hospitalized for a six-month stay. After my Aunt returned home, her life was in for a big change. My Mom, her brother, and my Aunt’s husband decided that my Aunt and Uncle would move to Florida. The idea was for her to be closer to her older brother and her sister-in-law. They thought the warm, sunny weather could be beneficial for her recovery. My Mom packed and organized the move. My Uncle found employment near his in-laws. It looked like everything was going as planned. I felt pretty sad. I didn’t fully understand what was happening. Shortly after my Aunt and Uncle moved to Florida, we received a phone call with more sad news. My Uncle (my mother’s older brother) had just died of a heart attack. This bit of news sent my Aunt Mildred over the edge once again. Another hospital stay was in store for her. After she was released this time, my Mom told the family that she was taking my sister and me to visit our aunt. This was a most pleasant surprise for my sister and me. Aunt Mildred was excited to see us, too. I remember lots of trips to the beach and dinners out with the whole family. By the time our vacation was over, we all thought Aunt Mildred was doing better. But as soon as we told her we were leaving for home, she became very depressed. Nothing seemed to help her for very long. My Mom and Dad planned yearly trips to Florida in order to keep my sister and me connected to our Aunt. This seemed to help her hold a happy place at least once a year.
Family talks about hospital stays and doctors’ orders were a normal part of our nightly dinners. I have always been grateful for the opportunity to be available for my Aunt. I felt her sadness and I also felt her kindness and desire to be my Aunt. These experiences helped me find my way of being of service to others. The emotional learning curve taught me much about the needs of others. Patience with another’s process has been my biggest lesson. I use this understanding daily in my work with vibrational essences.
My Healing through the Essences
In retrospect, all of my early childhood and young adult experiences were all there to give me a platform from which I could feel an inner need for healing. The cancer diagnosis helped me realize that I could no longer stand to conform. Teachers and others in my life wanted me to fit within their perception of normal. I was no longer able to do this. I had to be me and pursue my life work in the creation of healing with vibrational essences. Of course, I didn’t realize my life work at the time, but I knew that I could no longer conform to the perceived standards of the world around me.
I’ve experienced a great amount of emotional trauma during my life and now that I make vibrational essences, I have benefitted from essences greatly in healing through my personal life traumas. Without the strength of the essences and their supporting power to heal my pain, I might not have successfully healed my darkest sorrows and traumas, as well as learned more about my uniqueness.
From my own personal experiences in life, I have learned that medicating children with learning differences is not the sole answer to helping them. My experience is that our children, as well as adults, can benefit from the energetic balancing ability of vibrational essences. Vibrational essences are frequency information and are safe and easy to use. Essences are safe to use with any medical treatments you may choose. Children and animals respond very quickly to the healing and love frequency of vibrational essences. Vibrational essences can support healing the difficult part of allowing your unique Soul gifts to become manifest.
I am grateful for the love and wisdom contained in vibrational essences. I feel that they have the unique ability to find our personal subconscious emotional patterns that are causing us to not experience our highest potential and joy.
Essences are an experience. They support looking into our darkest subconscious fears, habits and instincts while they bring light and wisdom to the fears, showing us our strengths as we heal. No matter how dark and sad you may feel, vibrational essences can and do show you where to find your joy and health.
Our individual subconscious mind is unique in its programming. Essences have the ability to find dense frequency patterns, release them, and show our subconscious mind a healthy frequency pattern. The essence definitions tell us what the individual essence is able to provide energetically. I have used all of the Light Expression Essences in my personal healing and can say that regular use will release subconscious detrimental patterns. Please notice that the definitions are the best outcome. Using them often will eventually bring that energetic outcome to your subconscious and conscious minds. While using the essences, a detox may be part of your experience as you release any detrimental patterns that are causing harm to your physical body. To support this detoxing, using the essence Fast Flush can be beneficial.