Month: February 2023

As she spoke my name, a bright golden sheen of energy shield began forming over my left shoulder girdle.

From sternum outward across my heart into clavicle, and from posterior vertebrae across ribs and scapula to join at my shoulder, it traveled down and around/over upper arm to anchor at my elbow.

Like a cyborg suit of sunlight’s armor replacing where once limb had inhabited, the healing aura encased, filling the empty spaces with pressure and swelling to recreate matrix for remnants to expand and grow into.

Conceived around 1947–48, while the composer was working on Sonatas and Interludes, 4′33″ became for Cage the epitome of his idea that any auditory experience may constitute music. It was also a reflection of the influence of Zen Buddhism, which Cage had studied since the late 1940s.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/4%E2%80%B233%E2%80%B3#:~:text=Conceived%20around%201947%E2%80%9348%2C%20while,studied%20since%20the%20late%201

I settled for something less than what I needed or deserved because I thought that I should be happy with what little was offered to me.

I dreamed I was still alive, here now, standing in a room, but that who I was before fifty lay dead next to me. It was a frightening identity crisis.

I dreamed that men I could have loved were killed by the violent monster of their own.

I had not realized that part of me was curled inward upon itself – like the misdirected growth of a gnarled oak tree.

When she was summoned, she thought that she had been standing up for him, and that he was the one they were putting to the test.

She did not realize that they had made a bet – and that saving his life would be at her own expense.

But, she did it.

She had chosen her time of birth so that she would be a bridge over the gap caused by lost generations.

Her physical presence had helped restabilize the planet’s dwindling life force and gave it and its inhabitants a chance for a better future.

“Why don’t you come home, Athena?” said my mother.

Children were playing and resting in the sunlit meadow where colors saturated, brimming with life’s effervescence.

Her presence felt like my mother, but she was not the woman my mother had become on this plane.

She was the source from whence my mother came – the source of my mother’s true spirit, before the pain.

I had never been asked this in my memory’s knowledge, and when I knew that world, it had been as my secret retreat with the animals.

Had I saved them all from destruction by my leaving?

It was clear new generations were replenishing.

(A healing experience while receiving energy therapy.)

A true romantic will see who they want and fully invest in them despite warnings and fears, for romantics are the greatest of optimists.

Thus, they are the most destroyed if betrayed – rendered to ash instead of destined by design ascendance of spirit.

It requires two of the same to rebirth love’s sacred flame.

The “Rabbit Hole” is a slippery decline that I have encountered in many men’s minds on their journey to self definition – which has more often ended in pure farce against morals and virtues.

Give and take are to be expected, and flexibility is needed when partners are learning and growing together.

However, how can I know that a man’s blueprint is solid despite inherently versatile variabilities?

Having one of the highest, best, and amazing forms of interconnected, loving relationship is this desire of my most passionate dreaming.

However, where does it fit into the reality of foot grooming, hair tweasing, and health reclaiming?

Pure romance as presented through the ages now idolizes artifice and distance from daily living.

Phrases take on different meanings as I experience them:

I have been bound to hell.

I am determined to get out of it.

“Never give up. Never surrender.”

(Galaxy Quest)

It must bend and adapt while pressed to meet daily survival requirements. At least my chosen profession nourishes society.

In times of pandemic, economy, and enforced poverty equaling circumstances beyond our control, it becomes apparent that we need help as individuals, families, and societies to overcome.

It must become of consolation to realize that had I stayed employed, these demands would have still hit – yet I would have been prevented from doing so well as I have done.

In two weeks, I have earned what a month of previous employment could provide if client attendance had been solidly consistent.

It is not a great amount, but I generated it in half the usual time. So even if I could not make up a month’s income in two weeks, I have on levels greatly succeeded.

Covid taking away two incomes for two weeks, then one car completely breaking requiring investing in the other to get it going – while licensure is impending canceling, rent for March is due, and I am out networking, collaborating, and working to build business…the immense progress being made in a such a short amount of time still does not meet the demands of money nor energy output needed.

One of the sweetest songs…makes my heart sing.

Is this my best self?

Am I satisfied with the results?

What can I do to depart with the unnecessary and usher in vitality?

The person she wanted to be was floundering under the weight of time-pressured obligations.

She could not tell if she was doing so much that it made her so exhausted – or that her exhaustion made doing a few things seem like she was doing too much.

Breaking away when she was just seventeen and stumbling to get her footing, she loved passionately – like a wild thing.

Now, I call her back to me.

Pushing into muscular zones of resistance where before were too torn and weakened.

She left her family’s heritage to become something more that the world needed.

Of course he would choose that certain path predefined that would hedge his bets toward “success.” What man of noble character and breed would risk his status for a love more endurant?

Through all the malarkey men had given her, she finally came to a point where she realized that it was all waste of time ridiculous. Then, she saw him again before her – and denial that had bound her faltered.

She had been schooled to feel that she must give too much of herself to gain the slightest glimmer of love’s appreciation.

But it was time she realized that this imbalanced exchange of energy was not the true way of living.

Because she had been so innovative in traveling roads less traveled, she was not sure if she was hero or pariah.

Even if/when I want to, I may pause to crumple, rest, and regain my bearings – but then, I keep going.

All this time alone, not wanting to be alone – yet now accepting it.

This last evening, I offered to share the “how-to” of my therapy with a young man going into the arts of healing.

I told him that I believe knowlege to heal should be shared openly.

I chose him because I can see that he has great potential.

Wherever she went, no matter what she said or did, most people – young to old – turned away from and rejected her.

When we were on the mountain, we felt very alone.

Isolated for three years from community that we could relate to, we endured fears from poverty, hateism, and Covid.

The move to this location was the best thing that we could have done.

Now, a friend can stay the night by our fireplace, instead of driving to their home late at night through the snow.

And I can share my therapy with people who want to heal and grow.

Those which march forward to take the place of the pace that I would have dictated.

Stepping away from a lone warrior’s trials into the role of healer diplomat, she removed the copper desert’s ring from her finger.

A loved one’s life hack that surprisingly calms coughing.