Telling Your Heroine's Story Writing Contest: Second Place Winner Dory Cote

We Are the Heroines of Our Own Stories

Every Heroine’s Journey begins with an ordinary day—and then, suddenly, the world tilts. A surprising invitation. A line you can’t un-hear. A moment that asks you to choose between what’s familiar and what’s true. Dory Cote’s story is a breathtaking example of what can happen when a woman steps over the threshold.

Meet Dory Cote

What would you expect when meeting a shaman? You might conjure up a vision of someone with flowing robes, of indigenous origin, maybe with a mysterious vibe? When you meet Dory, that’s not what you see. In fact, she presents more like a successful executive in the recruiting business, which was her role for many years before a fateful astrological reading.

For over 25 years, Dory Cote has offered shamanic healings, ceremonies and teachings for thousands of clients and students from diverse cultural and spiritual backgrounds. She has recently retired from teaching advanced shamanic workshops, both locally and as a presenter with Kripalu, Omega, and 1440 Multiversity. She’s now working on her memoir.

I won’t tell you more. You can read her story and learn how a Heroine hears and chooses to follow her call, even if it’s far removed from her “Ordinary Life!" Dory listened and I know from her large following, from her students who have gone on to be shamanic teachers, themselves, and from her success as a healer, that she’s been greatly rewarded by her fateful choice, what she calls: “The jump of a lifetime!”

Now, just what did that astrologer say… ?

Over The Precipice by Dory Cote

It’s January 5, 1992, my forty-fifth birthday. Susan, my life partner, has surprised me with a certificate to visit an astrologer, someone who’s been recommended. I want to know what my chart says about how I might expand my financially lucrative executive recruiting business in the plastics industry.

Her office is brimming with gargantuan tropical plants. Sunlight streams through eight wall-height windows. She invites me to sit opposite her.  She starts the recording of our conversation. 

She asks, “So, what kind of healing work do you do?” 

I laugh and say she has the wrong chart. 

She says she doesn’t. 

Two and a half hours later she’s described the complexities of my birth chart to note that I have five planets in the Twelfth House. She says that it’s the house of higher consciousness, connection with the divine, mystical experiences, and transcendence. She adds that people born with several planets in this House are innately gifted as compassionate healers. I offer that I have dreams and experiences with angels in the nighttime, but that does not qualify me as a healer.

She insists; I persist, saying, “No! Are you kidding me, I cannot leave my business. I’m accustomed to an income that rivals that of lawyers and physicians. I can’t imagine living on what I suspect would be a few hundred bucks a week.” 

She argues that if I don’t pursue a healer’s path, I will not have a happy fulfilling future.  “You don’t have to do this healing work to make a living, but you absolutely must find a way to offer healing on a part-time basis, as a donation, or for a nominal fee. I urge you not to turn away. This is your true life’s path.” 

At the culmination of our session, I was writing her check when she jumped out of her chair excitingly declaring, “I think you should study shamanism!”

I believe I responded with something like, “Hmm, I’ve never heard of that, but I’ll look into it.” 

I backed out of her driveway with a question mark hovering above my head, yet I had no intention of pursuing a healing practice.

Three weeks later while sitting in my hairdresser’s waiting room I picked up a copy of a local new age newspaper. I gasped when my eyes landed on a quarter-page ad in bold print:  

An Introduction to Shamanism, A Weekend Workshop. 

My heart raced. My hands trembled. It was to be held in Maine, in early March. There was no way around this; Spirit had spoken to me loud and clear. I had to sign up. 

“Hi this is David,” he said on answering the phone. We chatted briefly. I registered and mailed the deposit the same day. I was legitimately nervous. My thoughts ran to, “What have I done? This is ridiculous. I have no idea what this is about? Will I be safe?” Susan offered reassurances, “Go into it with an open mind. It will be a wonderful adventure.” 

I packed my bags for an overnight stay at a local B&B, kissed Susan and the dogs, good-bye, and drove away. I was already lonely when I arrived at their road. Their street sign read,

“Happy Dirt Road.” 

“Holy Wow! This is amazing! I’m in the right place! Arriving on Happy Dirt is not a mistake.” I recall that my happy memories during early childhood were those spent alone, digging in a gravel driveway, in a trance while letting each spoonful fall between my fingers. 

By the end of the weekend, my fears and doubts had been erased like chalk from a blackboard. The ease with which I had travelled to distant spaces during my shamanic journeys, and the clarity of my communication with spirits I encountered there, were evidence enough that I’d found my spiritual home. 

Over the following ten years I attended advanced shamanic workshops throughout the country. After completing two of those years, I remained somewhat reluctant, but equally ready to let Spirit lead the way. It wasn’t easy, but with Susan’s wholehearted support, I let go of my business, jumped over a precipice, into a world I would learn to trust would support my passion. 

It was the jump of a lifetime!

It’s November 2025. Over the past thirty-four years, with Susan by my side, Spirit has supported my healing work with scores of people and shamanic teaching with hundreds of students.

I’m financially comfortable. More importantly, my heart is filled with joy, love, and gratitude.