A poem continued. An offering of hope. Like so many of you I have been on a spiritual journey the past year and a half. New Wisdom has been given to me. Words of truth our souls are aching to know. Thank you so much for reading these frail words which are spoken through me. May you be uplifted. I love you all!
3 year bloggerversary! “There is No Dark Future!” We are brighter than ever! It’s kismet to be back in Colorado as several writing projects are rapidly spinning into fruition. Here again the journey wraps itself into ever-expanding circles of eccentric concentricity.
You see 4 years ago I heard a calling from my Higher self. Spirit bade me forward to my future. I listened. I followed it. I unexpectedly began writing the first chapter of “Break the Violent Fetters” while journaling in a Rocky Mountain stream.
I learned that the breakdowns were part of the break through. There were incredibly tough lessons and rich zeniths experienced since that time. And now I can say that I am better than I have ever been!
Focus on where your expansion will take you. Never worry about the bends. We are one spirit sparkling in momentary bodies of stars, rivers, & friends.
I offer this poem for all seekers of hope and enlightenment. I can’t wait to share more of this wormhole summer wisdom with you!
There is no Dark Future!
The Light has long since outshined!
For I have been made witness
to things we call “divine.”
My spirit was briefly spat out
beyond these earthly confines.
Past lives came back
to sing me the signs.
“Free your vibration.
Let your Free-quencies climb.
Ascend the stardust ladders
past your temporary minds.
You exist beyond
the bounds mortality defines.”
Life’s veiled secrets are spillin’
out for all whom wish to find.
Pour the grapes of truth
from the ageless fount of wines.
We are not lone beings
strung on a planetary vine.
And on my soul’s sabbatical
I didn’t expect to find.
“Unconditional love must be radical.”
Beyond things like space and time.
Words are keys to portals
We are the eternal Rhyme.
I am excited to continue sharing of knowledge, unlocking of mysteries and the writing I’ve been working on during this summer! Trust that while on your dark or wayward paths- you are brought one step closer to your brighter futures.
Beasts to subdue
Manifest lands to ravage
Peace was slaughtered
Its Peoples were called Savage.
Modern generations birthed
beneath fluorescent glows
God became irrelevant
when man learned fire all his own.
But I’ve always felt more
akin to Icarus
With dreams to melt the sun
Wax is just another Eucharist
to clip a caged child song.
Rhymes in fences
reflect the hour
of frightened flocks
who wield white power.
comes not for native, Black, or Jew.
Barbed wire have
spiritually enslaved those
who’ve paid the Devi’s due.
“Foxes are spoiling the vineyards
Oh help us, great Catcher in the sky!”
Did you forget the thousands of charred and scarecrowed Titubas, Peoples’ ancestors unnamed & buried beneath White Rye?
Does the cry for freedom not
from within you call?
His Blood is on the cross
But You paid blood money to build a wall
Statues are crumbling
Systemic oppression will fall,
a billion voices are uttering,
“justice for us all.”
This of thee
Sweet land of inequality
Of thee I sing
Land where their fathers died,
land where their children cried,
from every township and capitol
Every courtroom and classroom
From every street corner
From the White House
To the Halfway house
From every person
On every mountainside
True to nature I chose the complicated hike that found me lost and turned every which way around. Stuck for hours somewhere in a long wilderness loop in the Rocky Mountain National Park. Colorado keeps calling me back, an unintended disciple. The lessons becoming easier to learn as I let myself be broken to the teaching. It’s like we’re always on the cusp of knowing, like that point in your day drinking a coffee and laughing with your best friend, or on that cerebral scatterfying acid trip when you figured out the universe, or close to climaxing- the constant verge of almost knowing. Then all is ephemeral again. Wisps of genius flowing back into the void. The curse of peering into secret ethers is forgetting all we weren’t supposed to learn.
The Tioga trail is nestled a couple miles westward of the Continental Divide. There was only one other car in the trailhead’s parking lot. It was height of summer and temperate beauty. Tourists and amateur hikers flocked to the best morning trails. Mosquito swarms had followed suit. Being alone in nature is the truest of all holy rituals. A sojourn I wanted to walk through alone, unencumbered, spirited away from fellow hikers or any pair of probing human eyes.
The solo wanderer’s mantle is one I needed to carry that day. One that has followed me since.
This solitude has served me well. How is it in the subtle pursuits of adjacent tasks, we often get exactly what we asked for?
The path started down by a picturesque lake, two distinct mountain peaks rising in the distance past a winding two lane road.
I gathered my belongings, boots double-tied, my heart loosening its notches.
Quickly the hike turned steep. The path was made zigzagged to lessen the sudden intensity of the arduous climb and to sidestep giant trunks felled by beavers, others downed by the National Forestry’s army of rangers.
My breathing found the rhythm of the mountain, and I let my cares go. A week-and-a-half away from the unexpected turmoil my leaving of Texas had created.
A few miles in, I found a clearing overlooking an adjacent mountain. Flowers and green swept across the one hillside. I walked in a little further and sat to breathe in beauty- this wide open serenity I was lone witness to. The tinkling of an unseen stream could be heard cascading seasonal life throughout this ecosystem.
I felt free, calm, inspired. I took my Canon Rebel out and snapped frames of the wild chill-tinged air. Then I put on my camera’s timer, leaping in ecstasy and in a blue dream and mountain haze. I took a photo that would later become the cover to my first book. I meditated and mindfully sat in joy, soaking in a sunlit gratitude, enjoying the call of blue jays and cardinals singing, the bees and butterflies breezing beside my yogic form.
And in the joy, as we often do in states of bliss, I felt the time was now and to move forward.
I sat up and gathered myself, deciding to take a separate path. One led down the mountain I had just traversed, but instead desiring the path suddenly unfamiliar. True to nature I chose the complicated hike that found me lost and turned every which way around. Stuck for hours somewhere in a long wilderness loop in the Rocky Mountain National Park.
Colorado keeps calling me back, an unintended disciple. The lessons becoming easier to learn as I let myself be broken by each teaching.
Cell service had not worked for days. The trail map in hand made no sense. Summer rain began falling and the sky grew darker. Two hours of daylight were left. I sought refuge within a clearing and canopy of Pine and grove of Aspen trees.
Aspens are connected by an underground root system. They are able to communicate via this bio-psychic link. “Aspens, god, Steve Jobs- can you please lead me out of here?” It’s funny the ones we cry out to when we need saving.
There may be no atheists in the foxholes, but I’ve come to believe that everything is connected. A pantheist in panic is either delusional or onto something. I’m still out to find that answer.
It’s like we’re always on the cusp of knowing, like that point in your day drinking a coffee and laughing with your best friend, or on that cerebral scatterfying acid trip when you figured out the universe, or close to the vital orgasmic climaxing- the constant verge of almost knowing. Then all flows ephemeral again. Wisps of genius coursing back into the void. The curse of peering into secret ethers is forgetting it all. Truths we weren’t supposed to learn.
The winds picked up and they began swaying together in a primal dance. A pattern choreographed by an ancient unconscious evolution. The years that have brought these trees, this breeze, this wind blown self to now.
The path out of that forest was not straight. The signs had fallen into disrepair and disuse. They were eroded by the sheer artifact of time. A path alone indeed. Perhaps this was part of the path, or at best a brief panacea- a way to come to peace with a journey that seems so unsure and unguided. I got what I wanted. I sat and ate a sandwich I had packed before my hike.
At least I have food and water, an emergency poncho, a hatchet, flashlight, journal, an iPhone, and a joint. My own bewitching self-determined survival guide.
I tell myself “this loss and lostness is temporary. I have learned that from all the times I’ve lost my way before.” Still I wanted to give up. Not so unlike where I feel my life has now brought me to today. Back into America. A book I am proud of but brought me to a near penniless state and no direction nearer to where I want to build a home, yet again.
We must lean into the thoughts and feelings that align, that are contributing to our desires. The greatest predictor of survival in the wilderness is your mindset. If you let yourself get tangled in the mire, in the fear of not surviving your chances of making it out plummet to 50%.
There were lessons in the losing of my way. But I thought I had already been through all that. Maybe finding yourself is never finished. I’m still searching until the day I’m not.
This setting forward, breathing the pristine mountain air, thick with pine. I was breathing in life in pure thin oxygen. Exhilaration pulsing in each expanded artery increasing with each mile in my trek. The sinews of the rooted forest trees were formed steps in an upward direction due to the sheer genius of seeds grown along the natural incline of earth.
So I waited and breathed, and smoked a joint. I looked for signs of flattened straw, quiet openings in the brush.
I retraced the steps and boulders I had climbed until I came to a misshapen sign post pointing in two directions.
One leading me back through the wilderness camping I had already surmised was a dead end to my purposes this evening.
The other pointing downwards- the white painted markings had peeled away offering no specific guidance.
The infernal teasing of being human.
Life offers us half-shapen sign posts when we are searching for a billboard to scream to us the way. But would we even listen?
We, the frequent rebels, to ourselves. Arguing, blaming away our greatest joys.We don’t set out with it all completed for us already. Figuring life out is the most human-being thing humans beings do. And we can only do it by trying.
Within our nature lies a tendency to err. In that same body rises a desire to rectify and put right to wrong. Even on a cellular level all things are breaking down and fixing. We don’t guilt our cells into cells of their own when they fail us.
You have to forgive yourself when you lose the way. Seldom do you fail yourself on purpose.
We live in sullen tyrannies constructed by our societies, but we individually bar our own windows. There will be no freedom until we tire of unloading and reloading the restraints we put upon our backs w/ distorted self-talk.
I gathered my belongings, boots double-tied, my heart loosening its notches. In that moment the sign post was all I needed. I had already trenched the arduous climb in the wrong direction. I just needed to see that there was something up ahead without the faulty guidance of unreliable self-narration.
Hope upon the horizon is enough to light through seas of trees. Shreds still bleed through even After the Goldrush is long over.
Why must I always choose the hardest of these journeys. My stubborn tenacity has mellowed out. I’m seeking the path of clarity, the easiest way to get to where I am going. The complicated adventures, I leave those for another time.
I seek simplicity and grace and the things inside of me that make those around me know that they are loved. To reflect this love to others’ and shine back their brightest light to you.
I’m halfway through writing my second book, re-planning my move to the PNW, & waiting for 2nd interviews. The words flow much more freely this go round, but will they see the light of day? It’s been difficult to get out of bed since the end of December, but I’ve been getting out and up each day all the same. Looking forward to the future with a much tempered hazy optimism.
I wish I could be a plastic. That I could fake it. That I didn’t have a heart which feels and cares so deeply. Call me Blondie. She breaks like crystal glass these days.
It’s been a decade since I’ve experienced long term depression. The deception of depression is making you think that the real things aren’t there any longer and that you will never escape.
Sometimes I wish I could just be a corporate sellout, make a shit ton of money, and live happily ever after with a six packed boyfriend in an easy-bake oven life. But then I wouldn’t be me. I am here & who I am for a reason. Aren’t we all?
The only thing worse than not pursuing your dreams is to achieve them and realize that it was probably all for nothing.
This wasn’t part of the plan. Neither was MAGA. A great many unplanned things have come and gone in the world that weren’t supposed to. I wish these mistakes could all be rectified.
Clawing forward is proving to be more insurmountable a challenge than I thought because the wind in these sails have lost their fury and also some of their desire. But claw ahead we must.
I must have been delusional to think that people cared to hear what I had to say, at least enough to finally make writing my chosen profession at this time.
Why did y’all lead me to believe you wanted to hear my words? Or was it intriguing to watch from the sidelines hidden in sheep’s clothing? The wolves are out for blood most nights.
To quote the Talking Heads, “and here am I the biggest fool of them all,” and the only one to hold responsible. Perhaps I’m being too hard on myself, or just brutally honest. The truth lies somewhere in between.
The signs were there and I didn’t heed them. I should’ve left Mexico the day my wallet was stolen, but I had a book to publish, and a new life as a writer with fantasized royalties to earn.
The pouring of my life story and message of encouragement for other people to live their truest lives went mostly unnoticed and without interest in book form. I posted a chapter from my book to a newly purchased website for 7 days in July.
Why did I get so much appreciated and unexpected attention 3 days after launching my blog site? That was the most crushing blow of all. I was fed a cruel deceit and lapped it up thankfully.
Tears pooled into an endless stream of gratitude for weeks. I would have been way more responsible with my heart and savings had that not happened. But I was so confident that writing was/is my destiny. Just didn’t realize Ms. Destiny wasn’t going to pay the bills at least not right now.
Control is illusory. We are at the helm of our ship but no amount of skill or years at sea can steady the ocean’s waves. After all, “the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.”
The difficulty is discerning if the roadblock is an obstacle to surmount or a wall dead-ending the future. I’ve always preferred smashing through than waiting out the resistance.
Perhaps I have perfected the art of subconscious self-sabotage because I was taught to hate aspects of my core identity since childhood. I lost focus on the things and people important to me. I spiraled briefly out of control when I tore my foundation asunder.
I looked into the abyss and found the abyss. I toppled over the edge and plunged downwards. What happened to finding mountains instead? Cloud cover isn’t limited to sky alone.
The deception of depression is making you think that the real things aren’t there any longer and that you will never escape. Depression feels like this state will always last. It is a caustic companion that seeks to snuff out all joy and promise of better days to come.
I’d rather take the long road ‘round than sit in gridlocked traffic. Maybe there is still hope upon the horizon. How long will it take to find it? As long as it takes to find yourself or until you settle. Maybe it’s a little of both.
I have to trust this will all turn into something really grand, and if not, at least I tried my hardest. At least I tried at all. A mountain is still a mountain.That’s got to count for something even if the haze won’t let me see it now.
Hope is the great unknown. Kingdoms have been overthrown by less. Some days it’s the only thing I have more of.
How long will it take to resolve this existential quandary? As long as it takes to find yourself or until you settle. Neither have yielded fruitful thus far. Forward marching I will go. Trying to accept grace along the way.
The Rolling Stoned-
The stoned days are over. I dropped mine in the sand.
You looked at your own Then outstretched your hand.
An opulent few once parted a river. The ancient practiced craft of a Summer Indian giver.
Two seasons have gone by. You’re a little bit closer. I’m farther than crows fly.
A whipping wind sears across this prairie-crone.
All’s been begged and borrowed. Nothing to call your home.
Islands traded for beads. Wasteland riches spoil the hands that feeds.
Black gallons slither round a corporate greed.
You can’t always get what you want. You don’t get to see me bleed.
I cashed in our love for a jettisoned heart
The leaf scattered oracles herald defeat & then depart.
Magdalene had time to lean. Blood’s never made anyone clean.
A Tomb rolls open. Just a spin of the dice. What’s left for white-washed Jesus Christ?
Here I wait amongst setting sun.
Sleep folds in waves a coarse blanket, shadow-spun.
What becomes of dreams once followed and dreams undone?
Days of nightly wondering and the promise of days to come.
Orbits swirl through swans’ long nests their ivory planets clothed in down. Tens of talents left ungathered pearl yolks- the taste of gold. Revelations ripe abandoned Miracles unhatched, and fucking undersold.
I am sitting at a bench in Chalputepec Park overlooking the lake. My edible is kicking in. I only have 6 or 7 left. The day is beautiful. Sunny with a cool breeze. Children blowing bubbles, laughter and hundreds of voices heard in the near distance. I believe I’m supposed to stay in Mexico for a while- or maybe travel farther a field. Against the advice of my sister, who works in finance, I am going to withdraw some funds from my 401k. This may seem like an unwise financial move because this is the last of my safety net to only be used in emergencies. But I believe I am on my path and it is to be transient but stable a little while longer.
I spent Thanksgiving with my friend Stephanie and her host family. This is the second time I’ve spent Thanksgiving abroad.
It feels weird to celebrate a holiday in another country that does not share the same traditions or revered days.
Instead of feeling homesick for the holidays, it’s actually a relief to miss them all.
I’ve come to believe that Life brings certain people into your life for a specific purpose and reason. Sometimes they are lifelong friendships, or the meeting of our soulmate, and at times your worst enemy. Were I to trace the connections I’ve made with people who have introduced me to other people and so forth- it would probably be astounding.
There is magic in this world.
It surrounds and permeates us every day. I have zero conflict or have come into contact with one unbearable person the three weeks I have been in Mexico.
I’m not saying it is perfect here- every country has its treasures and things that are in process. I am trying to not rate things as positive or negative experiences. Huge emphasis on the trying aspect. But it becomes easier day by day to release the things that no longer serve me so that I can embrace who I am becoming.
I have assets and a few financial obligations in America that have been stressing me out. I am paying over $1000 a month to keep a life on hold. And now I am not so sure that I want to return to it.
I have been asking the Universe what my path is and it keeps sending me signs and emotions that it is to keep on this journeyman’s path. I don’t know the reasons but it just feels right. When I think about returning to America- it fills me with dread. I have come to trust my intuition. When I think about Mexico or living farther a field- I feel happy, satisfied, fulfilled, even exhilarated. The Universe is dismantling my former life, my ego, my priorities.
I’m selling all of my possessions or giving them to my mom so she can start her life over in Fort Worth. 4 days. That’s all that separated my mother and I from reconnecting and seeing each other in Fort Worth. The irony of so many things. The year I quit my job and have money saved to travel is the year Lauren, gave her benefits to her partner- as she 1000% should have. I’ve said this before, Lauren gave me the greatest gift I have ever been given in my life to this point- the gift to see the world. I think that it all happened this way so I would continue to learn and rely on the Universe and my own knowing. Free Man in Mexico.
Colorado took my Texas driver’s license the day before I came back to Texas, and Mexico police took my old Texas ID my first full day in the country. I am now officially an American citizen with no ties to any particular state. I guess I’m still technically a Texas citizen because I haven’t changed my residency yet. I don’t know exactly where to go next. But I’ve been craving mountains and green again.
A primal force is calling to me to go farther. To where and for how long I don’t know. But I feel Life keep calling me forward. The path of the wanderer is a gift that bears a special kind of aloneness.
The great quaking of self. Of breaking open the sacred parts of me. I am in service to a higher ideal, a purpose of unity and light. I don’t always stay in that place but my heart and thoughts are thinking about Ultimate good and love for human kind and for our Earth. We spend out whole lives building a life we want to live.
I am living the life I want by shattering it to pieces, and I don’t know exactly why- except I feel I am supposed to. My heart quells with a secret ache as I stretch myself and bank account out further. When does the stretching cease? Do I even want it to stop? Will I know how?
The scabs on my right knee are about to fall off. And when they do I will take that as a sign to leave Mexico City, for now. The scales, falling off Saul’s eyes on the way to Damascus. How many things in this world have only begun with only a hope and a prayer?
Certainly our parents felt that when they discovered we each were to be born. Statues, monuments, movements, are moments that have been previously thought even if it was just a second before we make the choices. we send the dreams the vibrations outward. Like the nuclei of a cell, the building blocks of stardust, and all the things in the Universe call out for what it needs and wants.
I believe that we are the Earth’s projected concsiousness and it is calling forth children and beings of light to bring about harmony and balance to humanity. I have traveled 30,000 miles this year- for work and while on this journey. I don’t see a world plunged in complete chaos.
There a pockets and countries, human beings experiencing unimaginable pain and injustice. It is time to set the captive free, to wake the sleeping self. To shake off the scales and scabs in our hearts. Opening the hearths to our hearts. I have wrestled with this bitterness too long.
I offer my frustrations onto the threshing grounds. I offer my life onto the altar of Life, as a sacrifice. Do what with me you will. I trust that the Uiverse will come to fulfill my needs and purposes. For why would it have called me forward to rescind the offer?
I believe I have fortunes. There have been times that I have had nothing. Tina Turner started her life over with 33 cents, a dream, and her name. The Earth creates and brings life forward with even less. I am a little nervous and unsure of the next steps, but I am no longer afraid. I let go of all that once held me or called me by certain names.
A mystic in Maleta told me my life’s vision and my path. There wasn’t a way she could have known my dreams and what I had been through, and the areas I need to grow without some higher/other knowledge.
I don’t believe in God in the traditional mono-theistic sense. I believe that everything, we are all expressions of Higher Conciousness of the Universe.
Maybe it was us humans, or sentient beings, that brought forth the Universe into existence, the big bang caused just because we thought of it. And even if that’s not true- what a cool concept. At the very least we are calling ourselves forward. And I am listening, following, with earnest intent, scales, bruises, hope, dancing, and hangovers along the way.
Setting free the captive
I took leave of my bed Dripping accusations on the threshing floor.
Sunlight does not hold the night for ransom.
My eyes were last to see this caged heart was flung open long ago.
It takes a river to tell the glacier’s story.
It says, “Fall and add your tale to the streams.”
I’m a seed in cursed soil. I have no rain to spare.
I’m always with bread,
“Even in your barrenness- There are desert creatures thriving.”
Life forever finds its way. Two lips can be an oasis, or a divide.
Spit out the copper coils of your tongue. You’ve dined at ash heaps too long.
It is the mad who deny themselves a banquet seat.
Come taste the dew drops once again.
Why is my heart always the wager for such high bets?
“My friend, there would be no spring without winter sacrifices.”
Tectonic plates crash-created continents.
Life comes forward from the rubble from the dead places inside of me.
I have split my life open, An atom rising A sky god in the clouds.
There is no higher offering than Meat of the soul.
Love is not a slaughtering yard. “Then what else do you call a garden?”
I blame you not for the scales grown upon my heart
I forgot they were there, like Saul, until you caused their shedding.
Stripping great piles from this rusted gourd.
All this time I’ve been Flowering in secret kept even from myself.
One doesn’t have to see a blue jay to hear its song.
You don’t have to say the word For love to permeate me.
A farmer plants his seeds knowing in time green stalks will rise. Bury your worries in the secret garden Herbs burst from soil, strong and unbaptized In time fall wind blows away all blooms Your children thrive in houses and streetsides. Each a thread woven in a street beggars’ looms. Our blood is mixed with your’s flowing and entwined as an ancient fermented wine these streams have flown born in eons before our own. Through thousands of lines Children, birds, & trees keep finding a different way to shine.
#tbt last year. For my mom & all moms this Thanksgiving, abroad. “Harvest of Woman Born.” Part 2- ✨❤️
Mary and Gaia, Tierra, Lucinda, Earth
Your tears, the melting glaciers, spill from your cheek mountains
Cascading down through all realms where life and lives abound.
A farmer plants his seeds knowing in time green stalks will rise.
Bury your worries in the secret garden
Herbs burst from soil, strong and unbaptized
In time fall wind blows away all blooms
Your children thrive in houses and streetsides.
Each a thread woven in a street beggars’ looms.
Our blood is mixed with your’s flowing and entwined
as an ancient fermented wine these streams have flown born in eons before our own.
Through thousands of lines Children, birds, & trees
keep finding a different way to shine.
In this Autumn Harvest our bound eyes now open.
We give bounties of thanks
For the plenty for women, grandmothers, and weavers,
Aunts and sisters, presidents and teachers
gratitude to the cosmic and Earthly mothers
For while these long gone years your sacred tears, kept flooding forth
Inside we once were, Before we leapt, Inside you we slept, We, this harvest of woman born, bring abundance