Soul

I feel myself retreating back to that place I recognize, that place that I can surrender to after the honesty of disillusionment. When I sit on my bed and listen to music, I get in touch with that part of me which is real and this time I whispered to Mary in the dark, "No more," as I placed my hand starting at the base of my abdomen sliding it upwards across my chest, over my heart, "I'm shutting her down."

It felt like I was drawing a blind, fighting gravity and an impossible task. Because I'm a feeler. I'm an empath. I'm clairaudient/voyant/sentient/cognizant. I'm all those things I thought were reserved for 'other' people. And at the same time, I thought it was all just a part of what it meant to be human. I mean, doesn't everyone experience these things? Apparently, not. I was told that genuine empaths don't know they're empaths. I didn't have a name for my experiences. I never had a label for any of it. 

When you feel the sting of this life and all that it entails, the anger is enough to keep you on the straight and narrow. There are no gurus. There are no therapists. There are no leaders. There are no coaches. And that suits me just fine. I've never needed one. To my surprise, I'm actually two steps ahead of these people but for whatever reason, I play dumb to appease them, to make them feel needed because there's no way I'm 'special'. 

One of my chief features is to be accepted. But, people are people. We play roles. We put on our best face when we first meet someone. We are not who we show the world. The ones who know us, know us well...flaws and all. Because we are ultimately imperfect beings. If you're going to look up to someone, you'd better make sure to take off the rose-coloured glasses. You're looking at an imperfect being. And that would be a true assessment because you're imperfect, too. 

We put certain people up on pedestals and what I've realized is that all of these people we unconsciously worship, have to use the toilet, too! Do you understand? I am turned off by the superficiality of the spiritual community, of the wellness community, of self-help movements. The only guidance we ought to follow is the one that comes from within. We let others speak for us. It's time we learn how to listen to that voice which is always good and true. But do you know how to hear it? Learning how to do this is the only worthwhile task of one's life. 

Apparently, I'm a starseed, too, with lineages going way back. I hear Angel Uriel. I have been visited by not so good spirits. I've dreamed of the dead. I wake up saying things that don't come from me. I hear messages meant specifically for me. I dream of Mary. I dream of Jesus. I experience uncanny synchronicities...and on and on it goes. 

I'll tell you, there are times when I'm comforted, like right now as I write this because next to me in this space is a companion who's been with me since I first began to write. This is sacred space.

But there are other times, when I don't feel any comfort at all, when the landscape of this life is so empty and so vast, it swallows me whole. I can't help that the veil was thin when I was born. That I can't unsee what I've seen, what I continue to see with such unrelenting mercilessness, I wonder why I'm being punished.

Because it is a form of punishment to be in this world with people who've lost the plot, with people who've made money their ultimate goal under the guise of helping people. It is absolute bull-shit. The only people they're helping is themselves and their families - and that doesn't count.

I'm tired of the same talk, the same meaningless focus on all the wrong things. All so we can carve out a nice little place for ourselves and tell eachother we did something of value, something worthy.

It's not enough for me. It's a soul-sucking machine. The superficiality from which people operate on this planet cuts so deep, I'm wounded in it. So I'll continue here in my own way, with my own epiphanies, and make sure to write it all down. 

Because I matter. I'm the real you can't see. And I'm only learning just now how that isn't my fault. It's never been my fault. If I should come back, may I come back as me because her soul's intact and this soul is the only thing worth building, worth protecting.

Misconceptions And Assumptions

I feel a recalibration from the way things were or thought they were. I'm such a fool. He'd be wrong. I am too open and with the wrong people. He now belongs to that category. I refuse to lose any part of me this time.

When you're dealing with ignorance, I tell myself, I can handle that. I mean, you can't help people being unaware or stupid. It's out of your control. But, to share openly with a person in the spiritual community that you've told yourself you can trust, and then having to regret letting them in - what disappointment. I can't even begin to tell you. I'm tired and I've said it all before. This isn't my first rodeo. For fuck's sake, these people are in the business of healing! 

Mark my words, and this is a vow I make with myself right here, right now. I shall never reach out to another reader again. Ever. When the student is ready, the teacher appears. Well I am the teacher now because I passed the test. 

What doesn't sit well with me is the stench of arrogance. Like I said, there could be one hundred lines on a page. But, it'll only take one to hurt you. And I'm no different. After I'd read the comment, it made me question all the exchanges that came before it. Did I say too much in my feedback? Was I too open? Did I suddenly become a client who he thought, needed therapy? I'll never know. I sent a restrained and kind reply and will never return to him for another reading. He killed the dynamic and ease I'd felt. I couldn't go back even if I wanted to. I no longer feel free and safe in it.

Readers who set the stage to make you as comfortable as possible and then indirectly throw it back in your face when they misinterpret your intent because they didn't like a question you posed - I don't understand that. Shame on them and their holier than thou attitude.

I understand transference. I, too, can read people. I just asked him his name. Actually, I did not ask directly. I mentioned that I wondered if he was the person I thought I was speaking with - after 4 months of correspondence. Totally innocent and sincere. And he decided to make it a 'thing'. 

He was lucky to have a client like me, someone willing to do the work. 

Shiggle The Electric Mist Out

There could be one hundred sentences on a page. But it only takes one to hurt you. Maybe that's what it takes to change courses or remain where you are. Maybe that's the sign you've been waiting for. A distant cry in the dark that says, "Time to move on."

So I'm moving on. I'm letting it go - an exchange I thought was meaningful. It's not everyday - if ever - you can openly talk about galactic beings and starseed lineages, dark spirits, synchronicities, lucid dreams, messages from the departed without it all eventually becoming exactly what they warn you about in the fine print - "for entertainment purposes only."

I shared personal events of my life. I shared about things I'd only ever written down - for my eyes only. And then I encounter an evolved human being...I mean, a real human being. I felt seen. The only other person who sees me as I really am is my husband. 

To be seen by another after sharing what I've carried in my heart for years, was freeing. I felt validated by another being...by the real. I should have kept all of it within, never uttering a word, because it was my magic to feel, my magic to experience, my magic to engage, my magic to wrestle with. 

I make a comment to him wondering if he's the person I think I'm speaking with. It was innocent, playful, curious. After ten plus readings, why shouldn't I wonder? Instead of responding directly, he adds a line that suggests I might be giving more meaning to our correspondence than what it is - which is already valuable in its own right. Sigh.

I know a projection when I see one. I know what a power play feels like. I'm an intuitive warrior. He should have known that would land hard after what I've divulged. I understand this journey is mine and mine alone. And here my guide comes chiming in from the side so as not to shock me head on...but even my guide failed. I didn't see it coming.

I learned a lot about myself and who I am. There's no doubt about it. I am grateful to see what I'm made of. I'm glad to see how human I truly am. People could use the lesson. I stopped looking up a long time ago. I have never placed anyone on a pedestal since 2013. And I certainly didn't now and never shall I again. 

This work is hard. When you bare yourself vulnerable and all they can do is get their back up because you indirectly asked them a valid question, let the insecurity be theirs. He completely changed the emotional atmosphere. 

I can't go back there, to that place I used to feel so much ease. Let that be a reminder to me - that this place right here is my safe haven. Here, words actually matter, mean something...because I say they do. 

I'm shiggling this electric mist out. I have always been who I've been looking for.

Caregivers

I don't understand how life can change from one minute to the next - minutes that go unnoticed and others we're forced to wake up to. It feels like I'm coasting and then I'm ejected from my safe space. Such rude awakenings that prompt me to want to say those words I force myself not to say, let alone write down. But for the sake of this reflection, they are, "This is so unfair." Or, "Why me?" Which feels a lot worse to utter because...well...why not me?

I don't want to hear the platitudes. I don't even whisper them to myself anymore. I never say, "Everything happens for a reason." Or, "God doesn't give us what we can't handle." While our intentions may be genuine, they lack a certain kind of grace. And grace, is what I need and what I'm looking for and what I want to demonstrate in my daily life. And, it's hard. So hard. 

I think I'm exhausted. Mentally consumed. Emotionally rear-ended. Nietzsche was most definitely right about one thing, "What doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." Another platitude? To a point.

You don't realize how alone you really are until you're a caregiver. When you're navigating the health care system and the weight of being relied on, seems to get heavier with each passing day. You tell yourself to count your blessings because you know...things could be so much worse. Are those just more words we use to pacify ourselves from feeling those feelings that need to be felt? Because you can't let things go until you've processed them. There are no short cuts. I'm so aware of that now - how there are no short cuts. 

And then, just as life seems to settle us into a new normal, a new routine, you realize you're not the only one getting older and more frail. I hear the words, "This isn't reversible. He's going to lose his mobility." Slowly, but surely. Here's another rollercoaster to ride. And it isn't fun. It's jarring and moves too fast. I hate rollercoasters. 

Every childhood wound is reawakened. You can see how raw they still are after all this time. You see what you've handled well and what still needs handling, with care. It can't be any other way but handled with care. Otherwise, you're left with anger and resentment, which deep down inside, is a deep-rooted sadness that ought to be resurrected and set free. 

Dark nights of the soul are here and ahead. There's help for sure. Assistance you can access - from neurologists, nurses, speech pathologists and occupational therapists. Yes, the help is there. But, there's a kind of help you can't *really* ask of others. It's your burden to carry. Your responsibility. Your duty to see through. No one will carry your crosses for you. 

For fu*k's sake, would it kill someone to ask how the caregiver is doing? You know who they are. You know someone right now who's taken on one of the biggest, swimming upstream, tasks of their life. Just ask them, "How are you doing?" Don't ask whether they need anything from you, whether there's something you can do for them. That's not the point of the question. The point of those four little words is to show you notice! It's to provide a space for sharing should the caregiver wish to take you up on it.

I know it's a rare thing to be asked because when I was first asked, I felt a hiccup in the matrix. I looked at this beautiful being in front of me and said, "Oh, sorry, that took me by surprise." I must have looked completely perplexed. Now when they ask, I'm less surprised and I comfortably ease into it and give them thanks for asking.

I think of my mother now. I know she's hurting. I hug her a lot. She's become a caregiver - a new role to adopt and adapt to, the way she had with all her other roles. I take her hands into mine. They seem smaller to me, which tears me up. We laughed and yelled while we gathered muddied leaves from the end of the driveway. We bitched and we laughed some more while I bent over and my behind was sticking up in the air. 

After that, we went into the shed to look for a piece of plywood with my dad's specifications - 17" by 30". We laughed and cursed some more as we pulled items out and away from the pieces that, of course, were buried down below. But then, just a slight look to the right, I said, "Ma, I think this is the one." And we slammed the door behind us and went on our way inside...again, laughing over something she said. We were so defiant and resolute in our stance as we looked up at the sky and said, "Yeah, and?!"

I have to admit, I'm really scared now. All that meditation about living in the moment goes out the window because all I can think about is what's to come. I'm the queen of anticipation. I constantly have to redirect, pivot, keep it here, right here, in this now...or it's down the rabbit hole I go.

I'm just writing things down, you know. It's kind of like a journal. It's not meant to be read by anyone. Yet, I like that it's out there should someone want to read it.

I've been blogging since 2009. I make it a point to be a witness to things - to my little storms, to waves ebbing and flowing. I observe. I pay attention. The goal is to prevent tsunamis. I think I do okay. Writing has become a lifeline for me. I manage to work things out in my own way...quietly, undisturbed, unrattled. I've also found my way back to my art practice. I think it's interesting the way life guides us when we've been sitting somewhat comfortably in our current space. Shocks and surprises wake us up from our slumber. They demand not to go unexpressed.

I thank everyone who gives me the opportunity to work on myself. I don't always mean that. Do you know how hard it is to be thankful when someone's mean and irritating, when you have to gather all you've got to rise above the noise? And since I'm here to build a soul, okay, so be it. I acquiesce.

So yes, what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger. Because we have to be strong for others, too. 

Barry Keoghan - A Wish For You

My husband and I watched, "The Immortal Man," the other day and when you, Barry Keoghan, entered the scene, I said, "Babe, remember that actor from, "Bring Them Down...he's amazing."

Yes, you are a talented actor. Later I learned about online haters and their comments about your looks. Whaaaat?! Are these people seriously saying nasty things about you? And that you would take it to heart and consider not being in the spotlight? 

Kick them to the curb, Barry, and then burn each and every hurtful comment that's ever touched your eyes. They are not worthy of the beautiful soul that you are! They can't light a candle to your name. 

For starters, beautiful souls don't waste their time or energy spreading filth on the internet. Do you know how vile, depraved and low you have to be to sit on a chair and hide behind a screen to say mean and cruel words when you could be helping out a stranger or creating a work of art or going for a walk or self-reflecting? That's right, you have to be the lowest of the low. They're just envious little shits.

Do you know how beautiful you have to be to take their hurtful words to heart? Really beautiful. Tragically, beautiful. Do you understand?

Screw them and their meaningless 'opinions'.

You are gorgeous, Barry Keoghan. I tell my husband all the time. "This guy, wow, just so unique." You are beautiful through and through and I don't even have to know you to know that!

Please don't let scum dictate your actions. They're bullies, Barry. What should it matter to you what they say? Whether they come from all walks of life, whether they've got good jobs, whether they're students, whether poor or rich, whether skinny or fat...who cares what they spew? If they've got nothing good to say?

They know not who they are. They know not what they do. But, don't you dare turn the other cheek, Barry! Stand tall and whisper under your breath every chance you get until the chant becomes a part of you and you wear it like a badge, "Fuck them."

I may not be giving you the best advice. But, I'm 52 and I've seen a few things in my life. Don't let their words break you. Transform them by being who you are. Let that be your best revenge. You won't even have to lift a finger. I promise, the little shits will get their comeuppance. They always do. Let them be the vile creatures that they are.

But you, dear Barry, please learn to keep your chin up. Please! You're a shining star...and I mean that both literally and figuratively. Do you know how bright you shine and you're going to hide your light because of a bunch of losers? And losers they are because beautiful souls don't behave that way!

Do you hear me?

With love and respect, 

Grace

Oh Justus

Oh Justus, you're as shallow as they come, adorned in expensive clothing, spouting your favourite words. You're like keys on a piano - your range falls on specific notes while others are left untouched and therefore, forever to remain flat. How can you not see that?

Oh wait a minute. It's not your fault...that you also can't hear. Some of us just have to tolerate the fact that we can, and think of spells to chant to protect ourselves from people like you.

That little angel you seem to worship, oh my, the joke's on you, I suppose. Because you know, you've been doing the bad angel's bidding and this little demon, well, he doesn't care about you. It's not in his nature to. But you Justus, maybe there's still a chance for you. Though something tells me you're so crystallized in your thinking, there's no way the light can get through.

Maybe you like doing the devil's work? I hadn't thought of that. Do you know how shallow you have to be, to be in the business of buying beauty? Do you know how empty you have to be, to hook up with a man like you? A man who chases superficial beauty and money, a man whose made them, his gods? A materialist who can only attract superficial beauty? Talk about poverty. I feel sorry for you. Because I have the eyes to see and the ears to hear.

There is no Jesus in your equation, Justus. No Buddha. No Gandhi. No Mother Mary. No Mother Teresa. 

Oooh, but, there's Donald. Really, Justus? And salivating dogs. Men who only carry swords and yet, ironically, don't know how to use them, properly, with dignity and integrity. They are boys who can only ever pretend.

Sure, you're most definitely a success if being a hardcore capitalist, is all you aspire to. In my world, in the real world, you're really a slave.

You seem not to know what a quality lady is either. Because a quality lady would never allow herself to be demeaned by such filth! And if a woman wants a man with money who can lavish her with gifts and take care of her, so be it. She lacks the kind of brains which makes it possible for people like you to buy her. Let like attract like. I can sympathize with her, but only to a point and no more.

I might have sympathized with the white man, too, but my sympathy is overshadowed by your double-standards, Justus. One-sided monogamy? P l e a s e. You're no king, you and your flashy cars and vacant homes. I wonder what they'll find behind the curtain when it's all said and done.

Show me a quality man among you. He does not exist and nor shall you produce one. And you think you're doing the Lord's work?! Any boy who idolizes you is going to become just as depthless as you are now. I'm no feminist but I am a warrior! 

I don't consider myself beautiful, though my husband thinks I am. I never wanted children. I knew that when I was 10 years old. I've got depth and an inner world no one will ever taint or maim, not with their pointy words. Because I've got a kind of armor that serves to protect me. And I'm also a rose with thorns. It's in my nature to wound should you mean me harm. It's in my nature to protect and guard my bush.

You have a kind of armor that you'll need lifetimes to chisel away at. Who are you, Justus? You're only producing more angry men with armors and amantes. Oh, I like a strong man, don't get me wrong. But, he's got to be a lion who can let a maiden tame him. You don't have that kind of surrender in you...that kind of surrender that would open up the real world in all its glory. That's too bad.

Oh Justus, what a shame you will never live up to your name! Ego becomes you. Congratulations?

Signs

I think of you often. I try not to, you know? But, purple monkey is always around. I distract myself by watching movies or engaging in creative work and then suddenly, gravity pulls me back to a whole bunch of unanswered questions.

I'm having a hard time accepting I'll never have them. I could ask you though, couldn't I? But, the risk is too great. I'd be opening up pandora's box. I'm not ready for the opening of the floodgates. I don't think I ever could.

The resistance is strong, too. This pendulum keeps swinging and never quite settles long enough in the middle. Yet, the middle holds its own truths. It's quiet, less dramatic, routine-like...boring.

Because generally, I'm okay with silence. It's my home, my sanctuary. And now, when I retreat back to myself, I find you there. So what can I do? Tell me what to do? Pretend that I need you. Pretend that I want you to tell me how to navigate this. Decide for me. Take a chance. Do all those things I can't manage to do.

Yet, I see that I actually don't want you to do any of these things. You'll take me away from the center again to an extreme. I don't exist well in extremes or ultimatums...even over the top, excitement. My heart can't handle it. Every high has a low and if I'm too high, I'm already programmed to anticipate the blow of the low.

You and I must be alike. So continue to stay in your lane. I'll continue to stay in mine. It's not your fault you failed to read the signs along the way. It's not my fault I know when to be stoic.

No Jesus In Their God

Is it Menopause talking? I can't be sure. Maybe this is just who I am...painfully, real.  I can't seem to help it. I can't seem to shake this sorrow that I realize, connects me to the world. How can it not?

May the evil ones pay and pay with all they have, which on some level, isn't much at all, if you know what I mean. They've got no souls. When their comeuppance arrives to greet them, it will be just and swift, like an orgasm, powerful and short-lived.

When they dragged Mussolini out into the streets, that's exactly what was called for, exactly what he deserved. All falls are brutal, some more than others. Some not quite as satisfying as others. But, it's a fall, nonetheless, and a sure thing.

What's happening right now at this time and in the way in which it is happening and in the way in which most people refrain from speaking out against the atrocities, is a reflection of the human psyche. We should all be ashamed as we go about living our lives...because, you know, what can little ole me do? 

We've reached an all time low when some people are labelled anti-semitic because they're outraged and heartbroken over the brutal deaths of innocent Palestinians at the hands of disgusting and vile human beings - no matter their religion or cultural background. Got that? Any person who takes offense over what I just wrote says more about them - and not in a flattering way whatsoever - than it ever will about me. Being offended is the problem! It has no place here!

We can't even be civil to eachother on a small scale. I mean, give me a break, we have no say over what happens. We are powerless because we are shameless.

If you think for one second life was about achievements, status and money, you've only been living within a capitalist construct. Success is a capitalist idea. Trump is a greedy monster, a devil disguised as some angel who claims to be doing God's work. And maybe he is...except he can't be because there is no Christ in his God. His God is not my God...and nor, should he be yours.

Trump and his goons are in it for the oil, not for the people. They do not cater to any of the people - either in their own country or abroad - except for the twisted, the greedy and the shameless.

Why do people forget? There can only be one bad guy and he only shares the stage with another bad guy in so far as he can be sure to get what he wants from him. Any so called alliances between the wicked inevitably fail because there can only ever be one star, one superstar. And his ego is so big and so devouring, the followers, at some point, feel the sting of the scorpion when they are discarded like the trash they are. Narcissists have perfected the trait.

When these dirty men fall, what will happen to his goons? Who will accept them? They'd better run or ask for forgiveness. But don't be surprised if they're dragged out into the streets too because some people are hungrier than others for vengeance. These horrible individuals will have provided the avengers all the ammunition they need to carry out the fall. How ironic, don't you think? 

It'll be their fault because they inadvertently, paved the way for their fall to occur. If people thought far enough into the future, they'd be careful about every step they take. Can't these power-hungry men see that? They set up the very structures of their own demise to be possible. It's genius and none of it was conscious!

The pendulum will swing. I can hear Sansa again, "Your words will disappear. Your house will disappear. Your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear."

And so it shall be!

A Person Who Cares, Stays

I know the truth now. I've been asking for days for it. And now, here it is. It's been here the whole time. Since August. I felt the shift in the hall way when you asked me how he was doing. I knew in that moment that something had changed. 

How did I miss that? How come I never asked the Tarot reader? What a huge oversight on my part. How can I have been so naive? I know I can't blame you for the way you behaved. And yet, I can. I do. In fact, as I write this, I resent you.

I think you're weak. It hurts, you know? Do you know? Do you understand? It dawned on me how you might think I could never put you first. You and your needs. And I'm left with yet again, a painful truth that my own needs actually don't matter and are not even considered.

You pulled away...not that you ever really drew near. But when you realized again the reality of my situation, you decided right then and there, that your pride was the god you were going to worship.

A person who cares, stays. God forbid, you should get all twisted up by my feelings. I mean, what a concept, right? It's got to be clean and painless. And I'm just a hot mess, is that it? You can't or won't get caught up in my gravity?

That's why you don't ask about me. Or him. Because you don't care. It's only ever been about you and what you could get. And I'm here hurting. You remind me of my brother. You're cold. You don't know how to empathize. You hold back. I mean, fuck, it's painfully obvious, you don't give a shit. 

My husband was right. You belong with the brutes. I know that irritated you when he lumped your lot all together. But, it's the truth. You're all the same.

There's no chance I'll ever put you first. I come first. I'll always come first. I'm the lady you'll never touch. Wow, are you telling me that you wanted to have some fun on your terms and not pay a price? Your money doesn't count. Not when a lady's got her own.

You're so cocky. But, you're not happy. I can count on that. There's no way you can be. Not when you're sniffing around despite having a home with goodies waiting for you. It's okay, old friend. I understand how things can get stale. 

For better or for worse? Where did I hear that?

This Chapter Has Ended

I did know it would come to this. But, when it finally came, I still felt unprepared. Because you can't prepare for a complete loss of something. In some ways, the remnants of something left behind can feel more devastating than a slate wiped clean.

That's where I'm at. I can see I've turned a corner but not fully. And my foot in this world is waiting to be joined by the foot in that other world. Because you're really gone now, aren't you? 

I don't want to see you again only because I really want to see you again. There's no point, I keep telling myself. Going with the flow and acting like you don't matter while you go with the flow and act like I don't matter? No way. You'll never see me again. The thought of letting you remind me of what can never be, just so you can continue walking in a straight line, breaks me. 

I asked for peace. That's what the world is bringing me. What I failed to realize is the price I had to pay for it. I'll keep having to pay until I'm snug as a bug in my bed.

Every dream I had was preparing me for this moment right here, right now. It feels so isolating, cold, depraved of...hope. I had no choice but to let go while others hang on tight to me for their sustenance.

I don't quite believe her that you cared all that much. Wouldn't this look differently if you did as opposed to, if you had? I don't want you weaving in and out of my life. Peace took a stand not letting us run into eachother. You took a stand not letting us run into eachother. You must be so proud of yourself.

Let peace wash over me. Let it get inside until the thought of you brings nothing more than an echo from the past. I know it's irrational, given who we are and who we love, but when she said you decided to draw a line in the sand, one that kept you away from me, it broke me, again.

I had drawn a line in the sand a long time ago. Yet, knowing that you had made me feel so unworthy and unloved. I know. I know. Why the double standard, right? Let people say and believe whatever they want. You wanted me...but not enough.

Ace Of Swords - World - Queen Of Swords

Shall I overcome? You can bet on it! The cards always reflect my hunches. I'm doubly sworded. Do you see that? 

I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. But, this hunch of mine won't let itself be overrided. This queen can smell deceit and hear insincerity. She's had plenty of practice. 

I ask myself why I'm upset with you. Is it because you've done nothing? No. You've done plenty but it feels like bait. That's it. I got it. It came to me. Everything you've given, every gesture, was rooted in something else other than kindness. 

I understand the gift of exchange. I understand my place, too. I understand your place. But, yes, you were hoping I'd take the bait. I just know it. And to me, that makes you a coward and selfish. And not because you want. Because I wanted, too. But you and I wanted differently. And in this wanting, I saw you weren't wanting enough or in the right way, or in a way that matters, to want to pay a price. A real price, the kind money can't buy. It requires a certain kind of energy and effort you don't possess. Well, that you can't muster for me. No need to be sorry.

Soon, very soon, all of this will be a thing of the past, a place I'll no longer dwell but only visit casually, from time to time. Maybe I'll even laugh at it. Maybe I'll thank God for having helped me remain graceful. 

I'm already the world, unaffected and uninfluenced as you do what you do and be who you are. I'll be dancing, dancing naked in the light and in the dark. I won't give a care...in the world. Because I'm in the world, though, not of it.

Too Bad For You

Bring it on! Keep proving to me you're nothing more than an arrogant fellow with money. I want to finally learn my lesson so that people like you and people like me, never have to cross paths.

I see the good in people. The problem is that I like seeing the good in people. And the chances you might see something that isn't really there, is almost guaranteed. Because while you may be generous and while you may be kind, I'm not so sure you're sincere in your generosity or genuine in your kindness.

It bothers me to admit this to myself. Because...god...I thought I knew you...from my childhood. I felt innocent with you because we were of the same background. But, you're an entirely different species and I failed to remember that, failed to see it. I mean, you're a man through and through...and not a 'man'. Do you see what I mean? I'm just some chick, a ball buster, someone to control and to you, unintelligent.

I have to be those things in order for you to feel good about yourself, to continue being who you are. You have to call the shots. Do you know what's funny? I'm more old-fashioned than the women my paisans married. 

I cook. I clean. I take care of my husband. I maintain a beautiful home. I pay the bills. I shop for my household. I'm all those things no one needs to tell me to do. I didn't marry my father. I married my equal. And I can still go out all by myself to have a coffee and hang out anywhere I choose without my husband's permission. Do you get that?  Do you think that after 52 years on this planet, I'd let someone, some average dude, dictate how I should live? How I should behave? 

I'm psychic, baby! I'm so bloody intuitive, it hurts. Be a child. Throw your weight around like you're some studmuffin. I don't care. Do you know who you are?

You're the cold one I ran into in front of the cafe last July. The one who didn't have 2 minutes to spare but thinks it's okay to spend an hour talking about himself back at the building.

You're the cold one by the mailboxes when you responded sarcastically to me. Or when you kept saying you had a gift for me but then took 9 months to give it to me.

Don't you get it? That's what I'm going to remember about you. Not for taking me out to lunch, twice. Not for the holiday gifts. I'm going to remember how you left me hanging because I wasn't important enough for you to get back to. I'm going to remember how you ignored me after I wished you all the best.

And then you think the slate is wiped clean because you spent some money? You must have figured out how unimportant all of that really is to a woman like me, huh? Money is nice, sure. But, I can take care of myself. I wasn't going to throw myself at you in order to show you what you mean to me. 

So go your merry way. I'll eat you with my words. I'm too smart for you. I'm too creative. Too poetic. I'm filled with magic. I'm open and sweet and compassionate. I'm all those things you can't fathom in a woman, all those things you deep down secretly want but will never admit to yourself. 

That's too bad for you.

Shadows

One more minute with you and I saw everything I needed to see. You're emotionally, stunted. You're crystallized in your mentality. You are exactly with the person you're supposed to be with. She's perfect for you because her depths are as shallow as yours.

You don't want the real. You couldn't handle the intensity. All you have is physical strength but it pales in comparison to the kind of inner fortitude you'd need to handle someone like me.

You don't have it. You lack that kind of special quality. Don't get me wrong, you're a good guy. But, you can't be 'that' guy. I saw that about you sitting quietly, next to you, as you said this or that thing. 

I got that taste in my mouth, that familiar and bitter taste, as I realized you could never understand a woman like me. I tried so hard to get that other taste to return. But, it was too late. On my way home, there it was again with me, just lingering against the noise of the sub on the tracks. All my thoughts zipping fast, scrawled along the windows...there was no stopping them.

So what if you're around? So what if you're in front of me, while my spirit operates above you? We'll never be equals. You'll never get me. Whatever tenderness I recognize in you, is already a tenderness I possess. It's not enough. It's just not enough.

So, I'm crushed being confronted by this shadow coming to light. I ought to be grateful that the light came through. But sometimes, oh god, sometimes, I'd rather live in the shadows.

Thanking The Gods

I'm glad this is over. I'm glad the anticipation of you is over, too. I don't wonder if I'll hear from you again. Whether you'll throw me a nugget of sweetness or sincerity. It's done. This is done. The end of the road has arrived.

Here I am at my destination. I take a seat on a rock by the sea. You're not the only one who loves the water, you know. And I can still be a city girl, while I think of stories to tell about a girl like me who belongs to the sea.

It must be Hariel who takes me to that place in my mind where I'm free. Where the truth of you is so downright plain, I don't wish to be near you. 

So what if you're generous? So what if you're kind? So what if you're funny? What does any of that matter when anyone and everyone can say the same things about you?

How does any of it make me special? Special...to you? That's right, it doesn't. It can't. It's not possible. The impossibility of my heart skipping a beat is certain now. Congratulations. You're not the man I thought you were.

You don't want to be sweet. You just want to be macho. Man is such a fool. If he could only see that by investing some time and energy figuring out how to mesh the two, he'd have the world at his feet. 

I see now how you're not interested in me as a person, a woman, a being. Your only concern ever was how to impress me. Because by impressing me might afford you other things you'd never have to pay for but expect that I'd be selling. Wow, you must think we're all just fighting our way to make it to the front of the line. I'm not sorry I disappointed you. You should have been more concerned about disappointing me!

Since it's obvious to the both of us that I'm not selling anything, I see very clearly how much I don't mean to you. Against the backdrop of your ego, which occupies way too much space, it feels like a blow to the face.

Do you understand what a turn off it all is? That you can't stimulate me, intellectually? I liked the other version of you, when I believed your actions were pure and sincere. I hung onto, what I considered were jewels, for a very long time.

But, they weren't jewels, only shattered pieces of glass, leaving cuts in places I never knew were there. 

You can have the control. You can call the shots. You can spend your money on whatever you want. You can keep feeding your ego rather than your mind with silly notions about what it means to be a man, a husband, a father, a friend, a lover. Do whatever you please.

I'll continue sitting here on a rock by the sea thanking the gods for waking me up.

Texas

How does that happen? You and me sitting side by side? Just like in the dream. I had a feeling you might sit next to me and not in front of me. There were moments when you were so close and I saw a look in your eyes, which caught me off guard. But, you know, I was only partially caught off guard, because it made sense, to be that close, as if it was just you and I, and we didn't have the lives we have.

And then when you mentioned your friend from Texas, while I was already tipsy from the one alcoholic beverage, it took me right back to that other dream...of you and I sitting side by side at a picnic table in some park I've never been before. 

I remember after I woke up from having that dream, how upset and emotional I was because I knew it was only about me and my thoughts and nothing whatsoever to do with you or reality. Especially when you mentioned having to go to Texas. Out of all the places you could mention, it was Texas. Which of course, made no sense. After all, it was just a dream.

But then, in passing, when you spoke about your friend from...Texas, it kind of took my breath away. I don't really know why. I mean, who cares? But, it was Texas, like in the dream, and it made me feel that somehow you and I are connected. My rational mind says that can't be true. But, since I've got so many layers to me, why couldn't it be true? 

I tried so hard to give you your space, you know? Because I didn't want to be disrespectful. At times, I noticed you did that for me, too. And when you touched my arm, I got goose bumps. It occurred to me that I'd been touchy feely with you...maybe a bit too much. I'm sorry.

You're miles away now, physically and most likely, emotionally. Men and women are wired so differently. You and I? For sure.

So, I'm just waiting for this torture to end. I know it'll happen soon. I'm typically an all or nothing kind of girl when it comes to certain things. It's not enough you might feel something. It's not enough. Yet, at other times, it is. But not today. Not after this year. What a year, it's been. 

That look in your eye won't carry me for much longer. It'll let me go the first chance it gets. You won't be there to pick me up off the floor. You're not poetic enough. You don't get me. It's just one of those things you'll never get to do...or, at the very least, try at.

When you care about someone, you want to see them. You don't want to see me. Well, you do. But, you don't. And you can't. And you won't. Isn't that the truth of it? So, there's no point to any thought of you. 

You're happy. I see that you're happy. You found a place in this world to call your own. I'm happy for you. But, unlike the dream, I won't dare tell you that.

This Train

I can cut this sadness with a knife. Would you like a piece? I thought not. I can't stop this train. Everyone on this train is not growing strong but instead, more fragile and crystallized in their flaws. All you can do is observe, if you're aware of what you're looking at.

Train's picking up speed. They don't tell you how it creeps up on you while you're making sure no hair strand is out of place. While your thoughts are roaming and resting upon something offensive a stranger said. Or as you're picking out lingerie at a downtown boutique. 

No one tells you how words can change your whole world in an instant. How they can give or take away hope. No one tells you how you're here now but maybe not in the next. 

In the next life? What does it matter? Oh, those glory days. Remember them? When your face turned pepper red because some crush said something nice to you. And all you wanted was to rush time ahead so you could get to do all those things you couldn't when you were young. You thought freedom was something you could buy.

And then you got your freedom and it wasn't what you had imagined it would be, would look like, feel like. It was a steady train going nowhere. It was only ever a steady train until it wasn't.

It wakes you up from your dreams. Any control you thought you had is now an illusion, something life forced upon you in order to surrender to it. Do you understand? The more resistance you display, the more friction you'll have to endure.

I miss those days when dreaming was right and good. I don't miss those days when I realized that dreaming was only for the innocent.

Here we are, wondering how we got here. Except it's so pointless to wonder. You can't turn back time. And while the future isn't guaranteed, this moment is all we really have. May these moments be blessed with the kind of hope and faith that move mountains, not merely to exist, but to live, to simply...live. And to live simply with grace.

The Lone Wolf

I can't believe how it's come to this. I didn't see it coming. I feel more of myself shedding, layers sloughing, pieces falling away in chunks. I swear I can hear the pieces when they hit the ground. It can feel abrasive, shocking. They wake me up to this kind of horror I don't know how to unsee. You think me dramatic? I see things. 

The way you carry yourself. The way we all carry ourselves. It's all just fading away into nothing. Nothing anyone can do about it. What are you doing? Are you helping polish my ruby? Is that what this is for? You want me pure and whole? I'm not stupid, you know. I understand that's what it takes to get there...to be there.

Oh baby, I'm a lone wolf who feels things. Feels things deep in my bones. These bones that are getting weaker and yet, stronger...because I'm a lone wolf. And to think that there was something wrong with me only to discover that there isn't, that all I have to do is accept this is who I am...what a relief, what a gift from the angels, what peace to be bestowed upon me when I read words on a page that whispered to me that I'm not alone, that I'm finally understood. 

I like to be alone. But not only that...I need to be alone to recharge. Recharging comes from the act of reflection. I work things out quietly, without the help of anyone. 

I don't enjoy large crowds or parties, though I'm not one hundred percent an introvert. I value and cherish one on one connections. If we have a connection, it's because we wholeheartedly accept one another. If we don't, it's not because you're not liked. It's because we don't jibe. I won't sacrifice my mental and emotional health to spend time with people because we have the same blood coursing through our veins. My friends are my family. My family is not necessarily my friend.

When I hurt, it takes a long while to recover. Especially, when it's completely unexpected, when someone I thought was genuine turns out to be just like the rest. Even if hurting me was unintentional, even if the other person was oblivious to their own lack of attention,  I become acutely aware in an instant, that I had valued someone who didn't value me in the same way. 

If that person apologizes, I feel a hardening suddenly soften because I see that they care. But if there's no apology, even if to that person, they don't see they've done anything wrong, it just reinforces to me that while my perception may be incorrect about them, they can't be the company I keep because the right person for me would know to apologize.

Since I have a good read on people for the most part, I see when a truth is staring at me in the face because it's one I'd rather not see. I'd rather not see it and that's how I know it rings true. I can't make any excuses for them. I can't pretend I don't feel what I feel. Rather, my feelings show me what cannot be denied.

So, as a lone wolf, aloneness can become loneliness until I remember to accept who I am and then I realize it's better to be here alone and at peace than be connected to someone who doesn't respect me the way I deserve to be respected.

No Ceremony

I'm so lucky. I didn't realize just how lucky I was until I opened my eyes this morning and saw the light reflect through the makeshift stained glass windows. The things I can see and the feelings I can feel when one eye is poking out from behind the satin sheets.

I'm snug as a bug. I've got my flowers, my books, by blackout navy blue curtains, my colourful bed quilt, my red and yellow dresser, my red nightstands, glass red lamps...Oh gosh, the things I can dream up in this room, you can't imagine. I love it here...no drama...except for the kind I can concoct all by myself. That's the only kind I'll accept.

I am finalizing the last remaining details of my Will and Testament. Yes, that day has come to think about such things, about the finality of everything as I know it. 

Even here in my imagination, even here where I escape from the harshness of life, reality still manages to take a foothold. But, I'm going to make it beautiful. I'm going to make it count. 

There will be no funeral, no wake, no ceremony. My ashes will be scattered on the water somewhere of my choosing. No one will gather around for me. Let us rejoice eachother while alive. 

I don't care for your tears if your presence is non-existent...now. Stay away. I'm perfectly fine. I've been to enough funerals to know none of it actually matters. I see how people treat eachother. I see how family members fall short. I see how asleep we all are. I see how mean, cruel and petty we can be. I'll let none of that honour me in the end. I won't give anyone who didn't care in this life for me an opportunity to give some meaningless speech about how they wished they'd tried harder to be kinder. Fuck you!

Maybe some of my ancestors will greet me, maybe Mary will be there, maybe Jesus, angel Uriel ? Thank goodness for you all. I'll forget this place but first give it thanks. I hope I've gathered enough of myself to still exist. Maybe, just maybe, and only then, my suffering will finally make sense.

Ireland

I feel you, Ireland. I feel you. Just looked into the eyes of a young man, a teenager as he walked past...and he brought me right back here to you. I don't know why. I don't know why.

My brother mentioned how no one cares about the elderly. I don't think anyone cares much about anyone unless it's their own and even then, you're left to wonder.

I don't think he cares at all about me, except superficially. He'd be the first in church though, to speak at the altar about who he thought I was, about how he misses me, how he'd wished he'd been there, done more. Too late. Being two steps ahead has always been painful. Information is freedom, yes. The other side of that is, "The truth hurts." I see the truth of things as they are.

These thoughts seem to matter now. They carry weight right over my shoulders. And I'm already carrying a heavy load. Burdens help you see the truth. They help you remember how much you long for lightness, how you've forgotten how great things used to be but you failed to see it, experience it fully. 

It's not that no one tells you or warns you about what's coming. It's that it just doesn't compute or register in the moment. It can't. You're over there...and you can't fathom what it might mean to be over here. You can't see that far ahead. Thank goodness for some mercy.

Then it's as if mercy takes a back seat. Or is it faulty perception? Is it a lack of faith that I wallow in self-pity? Is it that I never felt carried? Is it that I didn't want to be carried? Is it that I feel too heavily? Is it that I'm not light enough? Well yeah, I seem to have established that.

My Name Is Rose

I can’t stand him. The way he turned on a dime. What a piece of work. Nothing worth buying or hanging on my wall, that’s for sure. To have so little respect for me, I’m still shocked. I didn’t deserve that. I deserved a response. That’s all. And, apparently that was too much for the guy. 

Now, when I look back, I can’t believe I overlooked his arrogance and lack of depth. Why would I do that? What’s wrong with these men? To think they’re God’s gifts to the world. What a fake. What a heartless, cold and insecure little shit. What a huge turn off. I’m glad I’m turned off. There’s no turning back from this. There’s nothing he can say or do to change my mind about him. Absolutely nothing. He showed me who he is. And even if it wasn’t intentional, the fact that he doesn’t see he owed me a response, suggests to me, he isn’t the kind of person I want to share anymore time with. No way. I say, “Never!”

I don't know what I expected. I thought you might turn out to be more of a friend than some kind of professional acquaintance. I don't know about you, but this is old. The excitement, possibility, anticipation of joy...it's all gone. The tone is flat. No one's humming. No one's singing. There's nothing here.

It's just me and this worn out dress. The colour has faded from an emerald green. But you know, the arrangement of flowers I willed here in this space more than makes up for my lack of lustre. You don't know how hard I try in my waking life to crack a smile so my light shines through my eyes. I think my light is trapped behind fragile bones. I'm always 45 here. I like that age. Estrogen is still my friend.

I'm so free here. My body takes on a new shape. Tiny stars make up the periphery of this form. There's no way you'd mistaken me for a nobody. Only a few are welcome here, as I drag my sword across the abyss. If I can stay long enough with the truth, I'll overcome. I may even grow wings and fly to far away places, places you've never been, places people like you need psychedelics to get to. 

I never asked him to touch my hair or caress my cheek. I never asked he buy me pretty things or take me out for dinner. I never asked him to cross a line. I couldn't bear waking up the next morning feeling the silence of rejection after having given him the opportunity to have his cake and eat it, too.

Standing there, so close and yet so far, stings. It's another drop of poison after a long hiatus. My body just doesn't bounce back as quickly despite the time lapse. 

I just wanted to know you wanted me. I know my place. I know your place. I'm not that woman. I wanted, secretly. Putting myself in your shoes prevented me from making a mistake. I can't tell you how badly...ah, never mind.

He has no clue what I am. I’m the world. Nothing gets in because I’ve mastered the art of shutting the wrong people, out. While I’m dancing in my circle, in my circle for one, I twirl and I jump and I swing from side to side, without a care...in the world. 

I’m the high priestess. I know but I don’t tell what I know. Secrets stay with me. The truth is already there long before I’ve caught on. And, I catch on, and before it’s too late. Because I’m also the princess of stones, tending to my garden, while you try to take a sneak peek, only to realize to your utter dismay, that I don’t need you and never have. Never will. It’s not in my nature...to need you. 

That must rub you the wrong way. Yes, it does annoy you. I know that it does...because I’m the high priestess who knows and stays quiet...about what she knows. I don’t take initiative because I’m a Lady. A Lady won’t dare go to anyone...let alone any man. She belongs to the heavens where she can’t be defiled. Do you even know what the word means? You and your house and your cars and your money? Making money your goal, your god, diminishes your worth as a man. How can you not see that?

You can’t carry a flame to my name...because my name is Rose. It’s not that I’m too sweet for you...that isn’t it. It’s that you haven’t earned a space in my life to be worthy of my pricks...