About Me

And so began my Dark Night of the Soul — though I didn’t know to call it that yet.

I moved cities — St. Louis, Chicago, New York — trying to outrun the void inside me. But after a breakup, I found myself back home, surrounded by old wounds that could no longer be ignored. Every childhood shadow rose to the surface. Family expectations weighed heavy: Get the job, buy the house, check the boxes — that’s success. But the more they pushed, the more I questioned. Everything around me seemed to crumble — not to punish me, but to clear space for the path my higher self was quietly preparing, even though I didn’t know it at the time.

I fell into the deepest darkness I had ever known — not just depression, but an existential unraveling. I wrote things like:

“If you get the job, the house, the life — then what? Just live and work until you die? Who defines success but this society we made up?”

I was empty. That darkness nearly broke me. But it was the beginning of my becoming.

I couldn’t yet see it, but then my higher self unlocked my spontaneous kundalini awakening. Energy was moving through me in ways I didn’t understand. I was sleeping 13 hours a day, unable to function in the old ways. My soul had stopped me cold — so I would finally listen.

Synchronicities began to appear. Dreams pointed me somewhere new. I kept seeing ads and signs for Philadelphia — a city I had never even considered. One day, trusting only my intuition, I packed my car, left everything behind, and drove 14 hours alone — to a city where I knew no one, with no plan.

I only knew I could not grow in the same environment that once wounded me. This was never about running — it was a remembering: that I’m allowed to outgrow the places that forgot how to hold me.

And the moment I arrived, everything clicked.

Paths opened. The right people appeared. The right solitude found me. I spent my days alone in nature — FDR Park became my sanctuary. My nights were filled with study: metaphysics, astrology, quantum healing. In the library, meant to study for boards, I found myself drawn only to books on the stars and the soul.

Vedic Astrology changed everything for me.

I saw that Western astrology — distorted and disconnected from the true sky — could not offer the depth my soul was craving. I began teaching myself the Vedic system: the lunar mansions, the nakshatras. It was like learning the true language of the universe, but not for the first time. I learned it quickly like it was something I knew before in another life.

And then — I discovered Bashar’s method. I stopped forcing. I began following my highest excitement. I quit my medical job. Through synchronicity I took on nightlife work to free my days for study.

It was then I discovered the book Journey of Souls. After that I  devoured all books on past life regression — one after another after another. Until I’d essentially given myself a second master’s degree — this time, in the quantum field.

Dolores Cannon’s work spoke to me the most. I began researching the vedic birth charts of the great past life regressionists — Dolores included — and discovered that many carried similar nakshatra placements to mine: Revati, Magha, Ashwini, Purva Bhadrapada. It was a cosmic permission slip that gave me the confidence to pursue this path myself.

It wasn’t chance. It was calling.

I pursued my Level 1 QHHT certification — and simultaneously began receiving Reiki attunements to help ground and integrate the rising energies within me. The two paths wove together beautifully — the quantum and the energetic, the soul and the body.

And slowly, this vision began to form:

Temple of Revati — a space to hold all of it.

The name is no accident. In the Vedic system, each soul carries a blueprint: a sidereal birth chart, anchored by 27 lunar constellations called nakshatras — each one a living frequency, shaping the path the soul chose to walk. These are not just zodiac signs — they are deep soul codes, marking lessons, gifts, and paths carried across lifetimes.

My ascendant — the rising sign at the exact moment I was born — is Revati, a Pisces nakshatra. The final one. The 27th gate. The threshold between realms.

Revati translates as “the shining one,” “wealthy in spirit,” “nurturer of travelers.” Its essence: to guide others across thresholds — from dark to light, from forgetting to remembering, from this world to the unseen. It is the final nakshatra — the bridge between this life and the next realm. It carries the energy of completion, spiritual mastery, and preparation for return to Source.

It is a nakshatra of hypnosis, trance, regression — because its nature is liminal. Revati souls walk between. They hold an innate ability to open portals between the physical and the quantum — between waking mind and timeless memory. They carry a pull — a voice, a gaze, a field — that allows others to soften, to trust, to remember. To let go of what binds, and to step toward what calls.

Pisces eyes are portals — and Revati placements amplify this. A gaze that reflects the soul, stirs memory, awakens longing for the true home beyond form. 

To carry Revati rising is to be marked as a wayshower. Not through effort — through essence. To walk with one foot in both worlds — and to serve those ready to cross inner thresholds. The energy comes not from force, but from resonance — from an embodied frequency that allows others to feel safe enough to journey deeper. And when I learned this, so much of my path made sense.

This is the Revati way: drawing seekers through starlight, then guiding them home.

Revati’s deity is Pushan — guardian of travelers, protector of the vulnerable, guide of souls. Its ruling planet, Mercury, grants skill in language and transmission — in speaking the unspeakable, in making the invisible felt.

And its place in Pisces — the last sign — mirrors its greater path: to help dissolve separation, to help others touch the unity beneath all things. To build heaven on earth.

Temple of Revati is born from this essence. A temple of remembrance. A temple of the wayshower.

I am grateful to my higher self for lighting this path — and I hope that through these offerings, a session may help light yours. Because that is what I am here to do: light the path for others.

When I chose this name, I knew: this is not just a business. This is a temple — one that will grow with me. One that may one day become a physical space. But for now, it is a living portal — a space to remember who you are.

Because here’s the truth: I am not a guru. I am a wayshower.

I do not have all of your answers — but I can help light the way back to the wisdom you already carry.

I am a woman who moved through the shadows — and built her own light. A woman who will never stop learning. Who will never stop honoring her womb, her gifts, her calling — and helping others do the same.

That is why I chose deeper quantum healing as my main path:
To bridge ancient wisdom with modern resonance.
To hold a space where Source can be remembered — not through dogma, but direct experience.
To remind you: your body, your soul, your knowing are sacred.

I am here because this is what I came to Earth to do.
And this temple will evolve as I do — with deep integrity and open heart.

There is so much more I could say on the path that brought me here — and in time, I will share it in full on my blog. But for now, know this:

If you are reading this, if something here stirs in you — your time is coming. Your path is calling.

And it would be my deepest honor to walk beside you.

— Cheyanna

I never imagined it would lead here — to building a temple. And yet, looking back, it could never have been otherwise.

I was born and raised in a small town outside of Springfield, Illinois. Like so many of us, I spent my early life longing for a larger world — one I couldn’t name, but somehow always felt. I pursued what was expected of me: I earned my Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Occupational Therapy, with a focus in pediatrics and sensory processing. I loved the knowledge — especially knowing one day it would serve me in motherhood — but something was missing. I could feel it.

I was more afraid to pass my boards than to fail them.

Because passing meant stepping fully onto a path that felt too small for my soul. I couldn’t name it then — but I know now: my higher self was nudging me elsewhere. Still, the degree was part of the plan. My higher self knew that to move through this world, certain keys were needed — and that education would serve me later, in ways I couldn’t yet see. It still will.

But when I reached that long-climbed mountain, degree in hand, I looked around and asked: Is this it? Now what?
I couldn’t feel purpose. I couldn’t see the point. I was questioning the entire meaning of existence at the age of 23. What was supposed to be one of my most fulfilling accomplishments.. left me feeling so lost.