Most of my sessions now happen over Zoom, and once the logistics are handled correctly, the work is just as deep as it is in person. The Divine State of Mind does not care about geography. What it cares about is the quality of the trance, the safety the client feels, and the clarity of your voice in their ear. If you get those three things right, the screen between you becomes invisible.
That said, online work has its own protocol, and skipping any piece of it can break a session. The week before a first Zoom appointment, I send a short checklist email. I ask the client to test their audio and video beforehand, to find a room where they will not be interrupted, and to use headphones or earbuds. Without headphones, their voice becomes a thin echo, and in trance people whisper. You need to hear every syllable.
I also ask them to have an eye mask ready. A black sock will do in a pinch, but an actual mask blocks light more reliably. Some people have very thin eyelids and can see shadows from branches or curtains even with their eyes closed. Those shadows keep the mind alert. The mask removes that variable entirely. I will explain later why the mask also serves another purpose, but for now know that it is non-negotiable for my remote sessions.
The device itself needs to be on a hard surface, not the client's body. I learned this when a client balanced her laptop on her stomach, and the computer shifted every time she breathed. The camera should be at eye level so you can see their face without them craning their neck. They should be lying down if at all possible, or reclining deeply in a chair. The more horizontal they are, the more the body associates the position with sleep, and the faster the trance deepens.
Privacy is the next non-negotiable. I always ask, before we begin, whether anyone else is in the house and whether they can hear the session. Once a client told me, casually, that her husband was lying in the bed next to her because he was home sick. That is an automatic stop. First, he can drift into trance simply by hearing your voice. Second, the client will not speak freely about him, or about anything he might be part of. She needs a locked door and an empty room.
Children, pets, and phones all get the same treatment. The phone goes completely off, not just on silent. The door gets a literal Do Not Disturb sign. If the client is in a home with thin walls, I suggest a white-noise machine or a running shower in the next room to mask the sound of their voice. People say remarkable things in trance, and they deserve to know no one else is listening.
For the music, Zoom has an option under the Share tab called Advanced, and inside that is Computer Audio. If you enable it, your client hears your music directly from your computer rather than through your microphone. This is critical. Music that plays only in your office cannot be heard by a remote client, and music piped through your microphone sounds like it is coming from a tin can. Use Computer Audio. Test it before every session.
Occasionally the technology still fails. I once lost power mid-session while a client was deep in trance, and the screen went black. I now keep a battery backup for my modem and router. I also have her phone number handy so that if Zoom drops entirely, I can call her immediately and guide her back up without her waking alone in confusion. You are responsible for the container, even when the container is digital.
One last boundary. Clients sometimes ask if a friend or family member can sit in. The answer is always no. Even the mother of a teenager is not allowed in the room. In my experience, the parent is often the unspoken source of the child's issue, and the child will edit themselves unconsciously if a parent is present. The session belongs to the client alone. That rule does not change because the session is happening through a screen.
Practice
Set up your Zoom space exactly as you would for a real session: lighting, camera at eye level, headphones, do-not-disturb sign on the door. Run a practice session with a friend and time it.