Angels · connection · Remember · soul

I Met A Stray (Twin Flame)

So I met a stray. More like he met me. His tragic accident cracking open our ancient connection. Felt like we had always known each other. Lifetimes ago reflected in this immediate recognition. We had always know of each other. For this was absolute.

The promise of wholeness, never yet realized, in our glances soul deep. The most intriguing of wanderers. Beckoning me to live deliciously, gate wide open. He felt expansive, this stray. Roaming the back alleys and dimly lit corridors of my heart.

I offered my heart willingly. With no care but blind trust. For in return came psychic connection, honor and dedication driven by forces larger. Much larger than ourselves. An energy strangely familiar – like blue electricity, supercharged and exhilarating. Remote viewing, lucid dreaming, visions, Clair-cognizance, clairvoyance the newest gifts.

So high I was. Like a runaway train. Breathless foot chase through crowded streets. Dizzying, bottomless highs. Out of bounds, out of body, higher. I spiraled. We filled our empty spaces, drinking from this supercharged fountain while unknowingly foraging for and excising ancient wounds. Fears and insecurities darkness and unhealed trauma ushered in.

The Stray, a catalyst of transformation. He could not be owned, relied upon, trusted, or changed. Yes, such a beautiful soul energy underneath the rough exterior. monstrous life lesson. An excruciating, scarring chapter of lie down on the train tracks despair.

A lesson I needed to look into the eyes of. The Stray was the perfect currier. Of loss so great, my tender, protected heart ripped and spilled out. Leaking everything held close and hidden. Everything awesome drained out as our human lessons came to the forefront.

Our insides turning outward. As he began to pull away. Run. Hide. Deny connection. Deny it was anything but attraction. The Stray simplifying that which was set to unseat his darkness.

Our eyes meeting was almost too much to bare, ripping into each other. Danger, danger Will Robinson. Visual electricity igniting the wick on old wounds waiting for expression. Triggering my every sad story of not good enough, being invisible and objectified- I was just an entertaining, energetic plaything. The deepest most profound disturb as he began to pull back. A psychic, well wisher, a tender hearted cheerleader.

Aloof and unaware, I attempted to wake the Stray. Insistent that he see what I saw. He HAS to. But you, Stray, clouded by narcotics and years of bad decisions, owned nothing but the present moment. Floating, attaching to rocks on your path but always one foot untethered. Breaking away suddenly, like it meant nothing at all and was normal to have SUCH A RELATIONSHIP.

Leaving devastation/heartache in your path. Blind to the worth of the connection. Fucking blind. The possibility of transformation, until the connection was lost. You just scratched the surface Stray. Taking a lick and reserving buy in. Never totally selling out, never totally opening up for the demons awaiting expression.

The Stray likes to tread water, not deep dive. Even when the amazing is at your feet…the aloof sets in, comforting sleep and you’re off running again. Shattering hearts that feel something more. That are willing to open to both painful and moving truth.

Strays are best honored from afar. The trap is reel. Like a trout that circles the hook, rubbing on it, smiling, smelling, present but careful to contain/conceal their desire for fulfillment. Stray, you were a master at running and not being seen, never getting caught, owned – greater than the desire to stand and feed your primal hunger. Hunger to be whole. You’ve lost your appetite.

So I do honor my Stray. This vehicle of unbeknownst divinity. For opening my eyes to self love above all else. For never again will I love someone more than I love myself. That is dangerous. Keeping all my goodies close, never again reaching outside of myself to merge with those who are unavailable. You taught me that my dear Stray.

Lowering my expectations of others and filling my OWN holes. YOU taught me that, my dear Stray. Not looking for external fixes. That too. Not desiring others to be any diff than who they are, to reach out of THEIR comfort zone and rescue me. Lastly, I learned to honor another’s slumber and not wish for them to excise their demons they cannot see and/or may deny.

So with fondness and gratitude, Stray, you have a beautiful Spirit. My wish for you is for YOU to see what I saw. The magic, the energy of healing wisdom, the essence of unconditional love and pure reverence. If just for a brief moment. Through the pain and pleasure I was most absorbent, healing and expanding into myself. Although I rarely think of you today Stray, if/when I do, you will always be remembered with the utmost respect and honor. Forever in my heart, Sir.

Remember

Oh that child

I never lost the child within. She’s right here next to me. Gathering trinkets on walks. Stones that peak interest, pine needles that prickle on my cheek, pods yet opened, full of possibility and promise of another season.

Feathers of hawk, abandoned hornets nests, berries artistically encased in ice – saved in the freezer, crimson leaf pressed in the pages of the Mother Earth catalogue, brown, striped seeds of mystery.

Recuerdos, mementos for recalling yesterdays, telling the earth’s story one tchotchke at a time. Don’t lose the child within. He/she is counting on you.

gratitude

My Darling Gratitude

Today I am so thankful to lead a normal life. Making mistakes and laughing to others about it. Knowing it’s ok to be an unmade bed in a sea of “seemingly” perfect beds. It’s ok. Not perfect. I have gratitude for my awareness of…Shit’s def gunna happen, sometimes all in one day. Sometimes all in 30 minutes. I’ll be fine. I’ll fix it, or maybe it doesn’t need fixing. Maybe I’ll have gratitude for Spirit orchestrating things just the way life SHOULD unfold…

I feel gratitude for the folks on my path. Teaching me more about myself and how to BE in the world. I know most people I meet are caring and supportive and generous souls. I feel thankful that I can be real and messy and quirky and forgetful and have that be ok.

If these are the only issues today – it was a damn fine day. I feel thankful that I can dig deep and muster GRATITUDE even when life feels like a dirty trick. Even when it feels like someone might be filming me with a hidden camera. Even when everything I touch turns to shit. Even when. Gratitude lives here. Everyday.

What are you Thankful for?

appreciation · Celebrate · challenge · compassion · Deserving · gratitude · heart · human condition · Human Spirit · intention · love · presence · self love · self talk · thank-you · Thoughts · Treasure · warrior · women · worthy

What Would You Say?

Who are you really? What makes you tick? Not what do you do for a living. Not who are you in relationship to others…(mother, son, sister, brother, wife, grandpa, etc.). I was asked to describe who I am. After much thought about why I think I’m in existence, I came up with this description.

I am love. I am light. I am truth, real and raw. Both colorful and dark. I am synchronous with growth, death, rebirth following the cycles of nature. I am my own best friend, confidante and lover. I am sensual, funny and deep. I am a beautiful mix of human and spirit. Light and heavy. An unchanged core of varying human experience, I am a beautiful mess.

How would you answer? What would you say?

resilient

Rising From The Asses

Actual pic of “Mother”

When you weren’t looking I was having fun. When you weren’t looking I made friends. When you weren’t looking I got all A’s and B’s. When you weren’t looking I got trophies and ribbons. Praise and encouragement from teachers and strangers. When you weren’t looking I followed all the rules.

When you weren’t looking I was unraveling. When you weren’t looking I was starving myself. When you weren’t looking I kept our family secrets. When you weren’t looking I hated you. When you weren’t looking I was planning to die. When you weren’t looking I felt isolated and weird. When you weren’t looking I wished it was you who died. When you weren’t looking I could feel crazy.

When you were looking I told you I loved you. I keep our family secrets. When you were looking I followed your fucked up rules. When you were looking I believed all your fabrications about people and the way life worked. When you were looking I believed the beautiful, sweet story of our tragic, broken family. When you were looking I was the perfect daughter. When you were looking I silenced the truth I felt so I wouldn’t upset you. I silenced who I was because I always felt defeated. When you were looking I made it seem like I had a sane Mom.

Your looking, an uncomfortable look of ownership, dangerous caged rage. Those eyes tho, burned a hole in my soul. A hole so deep, my lifetimes fell in, waiting to be rescued. But you were still looking so they’d have to wait. Because when you were looking, it wasn’t safe for me to own anything. It would be taken. Any semblance of aliveness was forfeited. No choice at all, the need for food, shelter and love was ever present. When you looked, I surrendered it all, smiling. Set on fine China, dainty flowered setting that hid the tears. Because when you were looking, appearance was Queen.

When I was looking, the color turned to death. I could flirt with pink and green and orange and red but only for a minute and it surely would be detected and devoured. This fed the hungry beast inside you. When no-one was looking. It slithered, smiling, through the caverns of our existence. Spreading it’s brown paralyzing slime onto our child lives. Twisting n turning so we never could sense direction. When no one was looking. Your inner beast ran through our home salivating, relentlessly stalking. This was not a safe existence for children, when no one was looking.

Intolerable and exhausting. Swimming upstream from birth. We surrendered, we yielded to crazy, to the killing of our innocence, our right to be free, to live unburdened. There really was no choice. We handed it over because we’re just children. We craved belonging, safety, love, softness, easy breath, dreams. Sacrificing our well being over and over. The darkness victorious, stamping out our light, our dreams, our drive. When no-one was looking.

Mission accomplished. Torched souls, we assist you in drawing the shades of life, a smiling mask donned in public, living “as if” so as not to raise any suspicions about our fucked little lives. All this darkness placed inside, the saccharine sweet lies conflicting with and twisting our fight for sanity, lucidity, transparency, space.

All this “looking” but no seeing. Your eyes glued shut Mom. You didn’t really have to “see”your food to be able to eat it, now did you? You could smell the life force, the need to be stripped of our aliveness, our need to be silenced and gutted. Sensed like an animal in the night. Just to feed your emptiness. She fed from and possessed our every emotion, when no one was looking. She took everything. Our joy, our anger, pain and peace. And handed us back blankness, autopilot, apprehension, lack of self trust, hate and suspicion of others. Insanity. We learned so many things about darkness and dancing with crazy.

I’ve transformed, Mother. And what a trick this MOTHER word! I’ve stripped your ugly from my existence. No longer a subscriber. I was the one who escaped, by some small miracle, I made it. My Spirit rose up to assist me. I was made for greater things. Without your sad influence. Without you looking, I’ve dug and scraped and washed and scoured you from my loins. 30 years is a long time to live, surrendering one’s essence, in service to another. “Out of service” an outstanding book title I foresee in my future. Although, “when you weren’t looking” could work, too. My mind is free. Free to roam without restriction, censor or proper.

Thank you Mom for leading me to the edge and shoving me off. Body sinking to guaranteed demise, my Higher Self was there to catch my fall. The Human Spirit is a powerful force that can lift you up and beyond what you thought was possible. Listen to the call, take the difficult challenge of putting yourself first, staying the course and rising from the asses.

October · rain

In Love #17

I’m in love with the smell of October rain. Arriving upon a cool, warm, wet, chilly breeze. Coating crunchy leaves and crispy flowers. Gathering dusty, dried earth for a communal autumn hug. The rain slowly arrives, moving in on the quiet. Settling into its resting place, lukewarm and lovely.

Making up for Summer drought, it falls. And falls. Smelling like forest floor. Like rich brown soil. Like the underpinnings of fabulousness with a side of mushroom spores and pine bedding undertones. Resurfacing the foundation of new life. Possibilities. Rich mineral magnificence.

The fragrance of possibility. Of spent corn stalks, cold harvest moon mist and pumpkin spice. In the air, previews of icy rains and solid precipitation. The falling away of what is no longer needed. That which weighs us down. Rain showering off the unwanteds, the old, the haggard, tired. The dead crunchies in our lives.

Washed into tomorrow on an endless cycle. Each rain flushing our discarded patterns. The old, worn out becoming new again. Replaced, reset, realigned by fresh new growth. Breathing in a little slower today to fill my empty spaces with the smell of rain in October.

Joy · resilient

I met a child

This week I met a child. No ordinary child, you see, she was extraordinary. What made her extraordinary you wonder? Well, really nothing and everything. She, unknowingly, touched some of my unhealed shadow. She was able to stir up some of my long held, restricted, outdated beliefs…her presence so magical, playful and open hearted.

So rooted in the moment, she held my hand and started to dance, spinning around, motioning for me to dance with her. In a public place. We danced and twirled.
I complimented her “purse” as I referred to it. She quickly, confidently corrected me, “My satchel”. “Oh!” I said, amused, “Of course, how silly of me”.
She added, “Do you like my dress?” I replied, “Yes, it’s amazing, the flowers are so pretty.” She is usually adorned with the most fun, colorful, feminine, alive dresses and proudly displays them where ever life takes her.

Everyday for this child seems exciting, like it’s her first and last day on this earth – all rolled into one.
Excited as hell to be here, experiencing, tasting, feeling, making the most out of each social encounter, showing up as is, beautiful. Simple, no complications. A gift to everyone around her.

Where has OUR sense of honor – for our own existence – gone? Did we grow out of it? Was it shamed out of us a long time ago? Hers is alive and well, on display for all to see. No apologies, no minimizing, she is fabulous and it’s palpable. Why do we save our “ “special items/clothes/shoes/perfume/jewelry/colorful accessories” – for an event that seems worthy? WE are worthy – WE ARE THE EVENT. We ARE what we’ve been waiting for.

Even in the most mundane days/tasks the raw material for fun, joy and connection is waiting for us to notice. I share the experience here, with this extraordinary child because she truly is “special”.
In a society where the highest academic achievement is still king – I find it to be a bit shameful that infectious joy, compassion, aliveness, presence, spontaneity and heart are not as prized as report card marks.
I became the student this week. She, just living in the light, is a natural teacher.

resilient · shadow

Don’t I Know You?

I feel a little piece of myself in everyone I know, everyone I meet. We are all a mixture of light n dark. A fine recipe of delicious complexity.
I am joyful and depressed, I’m hateful, I am optimistic, I’m a killer, I’m jealous, I’m content and curious, wild, responsible, disengaged, entitled, invisible, enraged, tired, discouraged, complacent, magnificent. Big breath in….. real, lost, embarrassed, hopeful, dreamy, open, humiliated, passive, judgmental, honest weird, eccentric, lonely, pissed, accepting, blank, spiteful, alive, proud, blessed, dismissive and aggressive.

If we’re honest, several of these are living within us. Sure the positive traits/experiences are easy to embrace and recognize. The darker, shameful, maybe even shocking tendencies we def try to conceal, deny, excise. They need love and compassion too. They’re looking for recognition and expression. To be lovingly surrounded with safety, protection and containment.

Can we privately bring LOVE

and understanding

to the parts of ourselves

that we hate?

If just for this

moment

If just for today

resilient

How To Stay Alive

Getting well, I held all of you OUT

To spite you

To let you feel and see

That you could have NONE of me

So you could feel unworthy/unwanted

Dirty and discarded

To show you I was in control of YOU

That you held no power over me

That I was always never totally yours

Never totally under your control

There was always a piece of me you (3) could not devour

My magnificent SPIRIT

That which kept me alive

It had to leave my body

I had to leave my body

A body being ravaged by your violence

By your sexual agenda

Your mind fuck

Tricking me into being loyal

Surviving on autopilot

Aliveness and light snuffed

Slaughtered by your fake love

How I wished you all would stop

How I wished I could stop living

But your abuse allowed my gifts to surface

Oh integrity, perseverance, grit, tenderness, pin-point intuition

Just little ole me

Detecting entitlement, control and lies

All delivered with a smile

A big FU arises

But how wrong of you to choose me

Very dumb choice

My Spirit fueled my mission

I was never totally out sold to you

My healing journey

An agonizing one

The deep hate and rage simmering

Building on itself

Spirit returning little by little

Empowering, driving me

I gutted you with truth

My duty, a healthy revenge

Shoved your nose in shit

Publicly mmmmm deliciousness

I‘ll forever hold YOU out

Leave you with your own open wounds

Because my self love is solid

Because my sanity is important

Because my allegiance to your cause has expired

Because life is joy

And an uncluttered mind

A calm body

Tender lovemaking

Truth

Sensual pleasures

Freedom and expansion

It’s always been the same destination

But instead of fighting against

I’m fighting FOR

A different highway

Less traffic

Better air quality

Pleasant, sunny, freedom

Arriving HOME to myself

Comfort · sensory · Uncategorized

In Love #16

I’m in love with warm blankets on a chilly night. Held and comforted in thick fabric. My soul oozing deep appreciation for cotton crops and birds of flight. Suddenly, cold is put in its place, made to observe the newly created heat boundary.

Heavy heaps of edged material, happy to be in service. Fresh from the dryer and smelling so. An olfactory field trip to a well drained forest floor. To a string of laundry overhead, dangling from a sun drenched, tattered rope. Without dampness. Without apologies. Without leaving my bed.

Weighted, grounding, reassuring me of universal support and temporary safety. Shield me from imagined, knocking horrors that come to visit in darkness. Cover me in kindness and compassion, nothing and everything present and promised. I’m in love with warm blankets.