anyways

Steamy

The usual walk into work. Breathless, no minutes to spare, still swallowing the last of my morning tea. Bags and baggage rolling down the icy, brown, salt stained sidewalk. My work cart trailing behind me. Announcing my morning arrival with quite the ruckus.

So little of the snow covered path visible to me because, well I CAN’T really SEE where I’m going. Mask up to kiss my glasses. They meet and conspire to steal my view. Then this voice, this smugful tone rises above the sound of wheels on crunchy snow. “You only need to see what’s in front of you” ok gotcha!

The wisdom comes when you’re not looking for it. Like a dog that appears out of nowhere for a scritch-scratch, reminding you to slow down, be present or some other profoundness. So, only see what’s right in front of me huh? Ok, got it…so I can’t spend any time thinking about the what if’s tomorrow, next week, next month, next year?

Nope! I am to stay contained today, in this space, in this me moment LANE. I am thankful for this reminder. I am thankful that I know to heed tiny messages such as this. I am thankful to know that if I don’t, the message might not be so sweet the next time. I know this. D

Irritations always get our attention. We wish to choke them out as quickly as they show up. But don’t. Their message comes from a higher place. We might not notice the message if life carried on seamlessly. But the piss-me-offs? Just like that annoying person at work… always keeps us growing. Happy Friday everyone!

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.

human condition

Love Note To My Inner Child

Photo credit – Back to Nature

I see you. I see how you had to pretend. Pretend to be thriving, happy, excited, loving, forgiving and alive.

I see you. I see how you had to be invisible, well behaved and all accepting. Without rest. Without safety or love or comfort. Without comfort for your deep sadness, your betrayal or terror. Without a place to hide to get some rest, to be anonymous.

I know how hard it was for you to live in survival mode. On auto-pilot. I see how lonely you were, blank, rageful.

You stuffed it all down. Storing/carrying it all away for another day. You had the wisdom to know if you unpacked it all you would not survive. You would not be able to keep it together and lead a normal life outside of an institution/hospital. The only option you knew was to keep playing, keep going. I thank you for this.

Years, empty years stacked together like 5 mins, like a long nap. A nap of safety, skimming insanity. Shocked but no signs outwardly. Terrified, but with a smile. Rivers, oceans of sadness underground.

Now we’re tapping in, once again, we’re here, together, my inner lovely. Both alive, feeling, hurting – lifetimes of hurt. It just comes. Day after day. Without obvious invitation. But the soul knows the timing is perfect.

We will rise, with more depth, available heart. Widening the range between despair and joy. To feel and experience everything in between. Fully. This time, you are not alone, I see you and support you like a good mother would, like she should. My promise to you.

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.

resilient

Stacked in Your Favor

I think it’s common to feel overwhelmed these days. Most of the pressure to DO, to HAVE, to BE, is created within ourselves. Do more, be perfect, have it all, win. At our own expense. The target always moving. Higher. Unattainable.

We are MORe. Already. We are perfect. Perfectly imperfect. All that we are looking for. When life appears to be stacking up against us. Remember, the pile consists of great potential. Great strength. Warmth. Energy/fuel to persevere. Raw material from which to create. Build anew. Wood you dare to believe in your own potential?

Dread

Eviction of Dread

Wake up with that catastrophic feeling. The exhale feels too deep, too dangerous to surrender to. I may not be able to take anything in if I let go and give everything away on a breath. Inhalation shallow as to not take anything in -too deeply- or permanently.

This one feeling as I wake – Can’t believe I have to keep doing this.. -doing what? (I question the feeling) Keep living? So elusive and slippery…Where TF does this feeling come from? And before I totally freak and want to run far away from this feeling, I remember, it’s JUST a feeling.

An ancient feeling. Like something I’ve been battling against for lifetimes. Past lives. The impending doom, someone coming to the village to burn it down, to capture me and throw me in a dark cell with rodents, feed me to the wild beasts, tie me to 2 horses who run in opposite directions, publicly hang me because of my wisdom, medicine, practices and beliefs. Feels so real and connected to pure DREAD.

It hits most often when I’m riding high, in a particularly good place, feeling assured that I “got” this life thing and it doesn’t GOT me. When I have the upper hand on living. Feeling bulletproof. Dread wants me to know otherwise, steal my joy and aliveness.

The darkness that comes with this early morning dread… first seeping in when I rest in the semi-conscious state before becoming fully awake. So slippery, this feeling. Creeping in when my defenses are still groggy, at peace. Something triggers deep inside to attempt to rob me of this morning promise and serenity. Fucking joy stealer 😩

There is recognition. I am positive I deeply know this place well. Like the bottom of a dark sticky pocketbook 🤢 The empty, cold, sharp walls of a hopeless existence. Dread thrusts me onto the edge, teetering over the vast cauldron of self hate and disgust for living well and being SEEN living well. It attempts to talk me into despising everything including myself.

The dread is borne from wanting to extinguish my own life. Bourne of overwhelm at the thought of continuing to carry a burden and secret much too heavy for my petite frame – just a whisp of a human, exactly what they wanted for me- to wipe myself out. Ending my own life….yes, the icing on the cake, the bow on the package.

Another life ruined, how smug their expressions. Fuckers. Hoping and praying I would trip n fall and impale myself on the cross I carry. This dread, as an abuse survivor, is etched into my fabric. Bathed in dread every day – I was an adorable, absorbent little sponge. Maturing, I could be loyal to their dark foundation they so carefully poured into my frame OR I could boldly refuse to be the load bearing wall of their house of horrors.

As I choose to no longer carry the weight of all that has transpired, I have something for ya- a big Fuck You with your name on it. I’m stepping out from under the weight, I’m done. I didn’t perish, I wasn’t silenced, I don’t hate myself like you did, I didn’t repeat what you did to me, I didn’t act my rage out on others. No, I didn’t. I chose a much different path. The path of revenge.

823344F6-0610-46D5-B4F6-56289FDF975B

Sweet, delicious revenge. By telling the truth, by being fabulous anyways, by cutting the cords, hooks, chains – of your essence – away and off of me. To shred the dread you branded me with and vomit it back all over you. Free. Free to be who I came here to be. Without interference. Without permission. Zero Apologies.

Resurfacing of dread, 42 years later has a way of reminding me of all the ways I am glad to be free of you and your sad lives. Freedom is sweet. The independence amazing. The ease of life, gorgeous. Knowing I turned – and continue to turn dread into celebration? Amaze balls outstanding.

You are not your dread. It was given to you. You came by it honestly. It is not the truth of who you are. It may try to rent space in your life. Dread is full of lies to keep you playing small in a promising life. Someone may have thought your light, your powerful energy, needed to be snuffed out. You may have been a threat to someone’s power, as your light was blinding them. Take back your light, your magnificence, your power. Don’t just exist. This is what thriving looks like. This.

How are you evicting dread from your life?

gratitude

Mud, Mountains and Tears

Today I am so thankful to lead a normal life, messing up things as I go along. Getting angry with people or things or circumstances. Expressing my anger, stuffing it in or bending someone’s ear off about it. I’m a mess. A beautiful mess. A beautiful mess filled with gratitude.

Thankful that I am afforded a functioning brain to process info. Thankful that my heart is privy to the underlying truth of what is/what has been/what will be. Thankful that my body moves precisely, immediately, and with strength.

I’m normal in an abnormal way. I’m ridiculously inadequate and over reactive and just too sensitive. And that’s perfect because life is to be experienced. Mud waded through, clear water floated on, impossible mountains traversed -while wailing- and park bench seated while the warm sun holds my thankful, tear streamed face.

Bring the love, the rage, the guilt, the grief, the elation, the fullness, worry, and pride. All allowed. All present anyway. All rich with information, lessons to unpack. No returns. Just integration into ourselves one way or another. Trust, one way or another.

I’m an unmade bed and that’s ok. Not perfect. Shit’s gunna happen, sometimes all in one day. Sometimes all in 5 minutes. Life does suck. Then it doesn’t. Then we can’t even imagine saying it sucks. Dig deep and muster GRATITUDE even when LIFE feels like a dirty trick. Even when it feels like someone might be filming you. Even when everything you touch turns to shit. Even when.

I am flirting with gratitude and grief this morning. Grief and gratitude. The grief I feel for the losses in my life – some who have left this realm, others who have moved to the outside of my circle. All circumstantial, lives playing out, people on their paths – yes, everyone has a path!

Gratitude though. The kind of gratitude that has you smiling just because you are breathing. The kind of gratitude that comes with full body chills of grace and warmth with the realization of connectedness. The kind of gratitude that moves you to tears when you see a good Mom in the grocery store. Or when you realize that life happens exactly as it should for your best growth.

May you make room for GRATITUDE. If just for today. I’m gunna try like hell.

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?

resilient

I Heal

As a tree, I heal
Tapping into earth’s energy
My roots
Grounded in partnership
My branches reaching
To heights of heavenly support
Believing
My highest self a witness to Spirit
Receiving, sending love and compassion
Roots underground
We communicate
And heal our neighbors
We are a home
For feathered friends
Tiny critters
We stand centered and solid
In the wisdom of optimism
Be-ing healthy and alive
Tree medicine
bark, sap, pulp, buds
Then
Releasing, purging
Dropping what no longer serves
Extra weight and dis-ease
Uprooting as a final gesture of love
Making room
For the promise
Of new life, new connections
Earth and sky
New healing medicine
As a tree, I heal