Guest: Yvette LeFlore — Reiki Master Teacher, Light Language Practitioner, and Grief Recovery Method Specialist
Where to find Yvette: Substack | Website | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube
We cover:
How a tarot card reader changed the trajectory of Yvette’s life with one question
Light language: what it is, how it works, and why your 3D self doesn’t need to understand it
Anticipatory grief — and the message Yvette received two years before her husband died
The Craigslist ad that brought her the love of her life
Walter in Costa Rica (have tissues ready)
What we get devastatingly wrong about supporting grieving people
The 40 different forms of grief most of us have never named
Finding your place in a world that feels like it’s on fire
About Yvette: Yvette LeFlore has spent decades in service — first in direct sales and education, and now as a healer, teacher, and grief recovery specialist. She holds a master’s degree in education and brings that gift for teaching into every level of her work, from attuning Reiki students to facilitating the Grief Recovery Method with people navigating profound loss. Her business name, Healing with Yvette, is intentional: she is not a healer who has arrived. She is one who keeps evolving. Her tagline says it all: When one heals, we all heal.
🎵 Music credit:
Intro and outro music: Madre Ayahuasca by Arkawa
Used with permission. More at arkawamusic.com
🌐 Visit www.goddessintraining.online for more tools to support your intuitive journey.
The Guide Who Introduced Himself as Walter
Yvette LeFlore came into my awareness the way I suspect she comes into most people’s — through the enthusiastic testimony of everyone around her. We were in a group circle and when we got to Yvette, person after person lit up. Oh, Yvette. I’ve worked with her. She’s incredible.
Most of her stories start the same way: I woke up one morning and I heard a message. That’s how she found Reiki, how she found the Grief Recovery Method, how she found Walter — via a Craigslist ad she was told, in no uncertain terms, to place.
Walter died in August of 2024. She’d known it was coming — he had cancer — and had spent months in what she now recognizes as anticipatory grief, mourning dreams before she mourned the person. Around March of 2022, a message arrived that stopped her cold: The work you are meant to do won’t happen until Walter dies. She sat with it. She kept moving.
After he died, she traveled to Costa Rica alone, bringing his ashes, to go birding — a trip they’d always planned to take together. At 5:30 in the morning, she climbed into a van and the guide turned around from the front seat and said: Hi. My name is Walter. And this is our driver, Walter. She looked out the window and let the tears come.
That’s Yvette’s life. Messages that arrive before you’re ready. Confirmations that find you anyway.
What strikes me most about this conversation is how practical her wisdom is, even when the subject matter is anything but. On grief, she’s clear: don’t tell someone you know how they feel. Don’t reach for silver linings. Offer specific choices, not open-ended questions. And resist the impulse — the deeply human, deeply unhelpful impulse — to fix it. Sit with people. Be present without an agenda.
Nothing about grief is a problem to be solved.
She’s turning 60 this year, entering what she calls the age of the crone, and her guides have told her to slow her roll — to let what’s coming unfold. She’s listening. She always does.
