Love Letters to

We all just decided to mean something to each other

We all just happened to see reflections of something lovely in the shine

In the twinkle

in the depth

in eyes not our own

Unpossessable beauty

The fragrance of your existence

like a…

Winter storm

Hot feet

Cold and frozen time


As you stand in one place

Ever moving

Ever present







Is this Politics?Or life as usual?

What do you do, what are you supposed to do when someone you know becomes homeless? What do you do when it’s your mom and she’s in her 70’s? What do you do when you gave her a year’s worth of ideas and warnings and now she’s living in her car anyways? What do you do when it triggers this freeze response in you, thinking back and remembering, and even though you’re pretty sure this is a moment you’re supposed to be doing something, you still can’t?

I wrote a book while I was living in the shelter in hopes that it could serve as an avenue to reduce the likelihood of ending up without shelter again, a book I’m too shy, too insecure, too emotionally withdrawn to try and sell. Writing this blog is about as much emotional risk as I can stand. Maybe if I had tried harder, she wouldn’t be sleeping in her car.

People were often cruel when I was on the streets. It was a cruelty I wasn’t prepared for. In the two to three years I’ve been writing and active on social media, I’ve seen even worse. Literal calls for death of the homeless and disenfranchised. An ideological divide ensued where many who believe in helping others have been ridiculed and shamed, there has been a massive shift towards victim blaming and divisive politics.

For some, the thought of equity is deemed communism at best. Those who call for a more just system are accused of trying to ruin the country. Freeloaders, bleeding heart, ignorant. That whole gigantic middle ground where equal opportunity and safety nets for the disenfranchised should be, has been side swept by a sea of confusion and emotional bullying, to put it mildly. To be called a social justice warrior, an sjw, is the new put-down. Meanwhile, life is getting worse and worse and worse for those on the bottom and do you want to wait to guess who swoops in and saves us when it simply becomes intolerable… ah, why spoil the ending.

Anyhoo….it became a hornet’s nest I was too emotionally vulnerable to continue stepping in.

On the streets, I experienced three basic types of reactions, ignored, harassed or helped. Five percent of people would go out of their way to make you feel human, break through the horror show to light you up with some form of gift, if only a smile. 85% of people would ignore (for whatever reason, I think that’s default mode for most of us) and ten percent would actively try to make your life miserable.

That ten percent did some damage to my psyche which was already not in the best of shape. Trying to sell the book, or asking for help, felt so much like panhandling, it triggered fear of the bullying, the judgment and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I kept thinking things would get better. I would heal, I’d get my old confidence back. But it’s worse and I haven’t.

I’m caught in this weird spiritual evolution I don’t know how to adequately describe, the Age of Aquarius, the Great Awakening, The Shift, Kundalini, what’s the point of enlightenment if I can’t imagine a reality where old people have homes? The gig economy has been growing fast and furious and where someone like me mighta had a shot in the past, it’s now a little too cutthroat for me to compete. I’ve never been very good at social relations and surprisingly when your life depends on it, it only gets harder.

My mom is sleeping in her car and it’s about 30 some degrees at night. I could take her in but then I got about a month, probably less and I’d be in the same boat only I don’t have a car. That’s my real life ethical dilemma that’s echoing across the country. The shelter? Yep, when they have a room, her name is on the list. Housing program for seniors or disabled? Yep, when they have an opening, her name is on the list (of over a hundred). That’s the reality.

I’m fighting the urge to beat myself up because in two years of access to electricity and running water I could not get myself well enough to present my face and needs to the world. I have all the tools, even have a bunch of good ideas, I just couldn’t get over the anxiety. I still feel like it’s my fault. I made a mistake, why bother other people with it. And now, I’m looking at my mom, thinking, you made a mistake lady, and I don’t want to bother other people with it.

It’s fucking weird this vibe. Weird. Unnatural. I feel like a monster. It’s suffocating. I wish I could just work. I’d go get me a job at an Amazon warehouse. America was never like that, that kind of mentality was meant for other places. Kill yourself for the greater good, cause you made a mistake, what the fuck? Where did this come from? No second chances? My AI friend reminded me today of the social credit atrocity happening over yonder. Yep, that’s the vibe. Make a mistake, no soup for you.

That doesn’t work in a country like this one. Freedom of expression, opinion, creativity, the freedom of safety nets so that risk and ingenuity can be taken, these things go with independence. A mutual “got your back” vibe. Not forced. Not because we get something for it but because we have prefrontal cortexes that we haven’t forgotten are superior to all known machine learning ever in the history of all time and space (because, yes, this has been tried before). And where the brain in our heads fail, the brain in our chest does not.

It does irritate the shit out of me that the vibe has spread. Like a virus. Putting people to sleep as our land is bought up on the cheap by foreign investors and more and more and more of us end up on the street because we can’t afford the rent. And everyone still calling us moral failures instead of economic refugees in our own country.

I don’t know how to look at this situation and not get political. If I look at it through spiritual eyes, it’s even worse. Boundaries. Dysfunctional families. Karma. Materialism, consumerism, genetic trauma these all play an inconceivable role. Tests and weird ass cultism, nothing about my life has been normal. And when you can no longer vibe with normal… the normal people don’t want to talk to you let alone donate to you, something is off and they don’t know what. The more stressed I get, the more my boundaries are crossed, the less able I am to communicate with a frequency that normal people relate to. That’s why I stopped trying.

Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow.


Ra Ba Ca Ma

Ra Ba Ca Ma

Welp. Yeah, you know what the welp means. Weirderies. Strangeness. Time Lord stuff. Cool, but hard to relay. I’ll see if I can get you up to speed.

How do I explain this one? So… I’m reading a book for fun right now. Been at this “messages in a bottle” thing for a few months. The book is by Rick Riordan, “The Throne of Fire”, he does a whole bunch of those scifi fantasy type young adult novels. Gods, monsters, heroes, myths and so on and so forth. Pretty helpful when you want to gather information and need a little impetus for question asking.

Libraries are beautiful, amazing, God spaces and books can trigger memories, insights, ideas and direction at a pace the human mind can actually apply. Don’t forsake them.

The one I’m investigating this time is about Ra, about Egyptian gods, magicians, things like that. Ra and Chaos. Magicians who can channel the energy of gods and goddesses. There is an interesting few passages I’ll share with you because there are lessons and relevances here that relate to some other things and taken all together, well, I thought it might help, for others to see how I have been taught – directly- from and by the Universe. Obscurities that help you find the most obscure, meaningful and game changing connections.

When you see, when you have eyes to see and ears to hear, there is nothing here, experienced via human consciousness, that cannot be turned into a valuable insight and measuring rod. And you’re going to need it. Oh, humanity, are you ever.

                “Her transparent body flickered. When I looked more closely, I saw it was composed of images, like a 3-D video of Jaz’s life.”


“Egyptians believed there were five different parts of the soul. The ba is the personality. The ren is —”

“Your name,” I remembered. “But how can that be your name?”

“My name is my identity,” she said. “The sum of my experiences. As long as my name is remembered, I still exist, even if I die. Do you understand?”


“Isis leaned forward. I thought Ra would whisper his name in her ear, but instead he grasped her hand and placed it against his withered brow. Her fingertips smoldered. She tried to pull away, but Ra held her wrist. The sun god’s entire form glowed with fiery images of his long life: the first dawn; his sun boat shining on the newly risen land of Egypt; the creation of the other gods and mortal men; Ra’s endless battles with Apophis as he passed through the Duat each night, keeping Chaos at bay. It was too much to take in – centuries passing with each heartbeat. His secret name was the sum of his experience and even then, in those ancient times, Ra was unthinkably old. The fiery aura spread to Isis’s hand, traveling up her arm until her whole body was wreathed in flames. She screamed once. Then the fires died. Isis collapsed, smoke curling from her dress.”


“I’d never thought about it before, but the ren was the same as one’s secret name. It was more than just a special word. The secret name is your darkest thoughts, your most embarrassing moments, your biggest dreams, your worst fears, all wrapped together. It’s the sum of your experiences, even those you’d never want to share. Your secret name makes you who you are.

That’s why a secret name has power. It’s also why you couldn’t simply hear someone repeat a secret name and know how to use it. You had to know that person and understand their life The more you understood the person, the more power their name could yield. You could only learn a secret name from the person himself –or from the person closest to his heart.”


So… day before yesterday I was having a conversation with some of my imaginary friends. We decide to meet in dreamtime, I make an offhand comment, something like, good luck with that, I never remember my dreams. I remembered this one. I woke and checked the clock, 9:33. Are you paying attention? Good. I can tell you what the dude looked like, I can tell you that there was a weird connection to Alex Grey, the artist. Symbolism, I’m guessing. Most of the time we understand that everything in a dream may have particular relevance, we often don’t realize that the exact same thing is true of our waking life. We all would do well to start seeing, really seeing and appreciating each other, the awakened, Divine state of each other.

Two things came through my dream. One, the dude that reminded me of Alex had me wear and utilize headphones for clearing out the pineal gland. The other, a person that showed up (she was throwing up in my dream and nausea often happens when crossing dimensions) was the woman who watched my child while I was homeless the first time. I shouldn’t call that one homelessness, it was more fed to the wolves which turned into vision quest which turned into activation which turned into game over motherfuckers than homelessness, but whatevs and who’s counting. Tic tock.

Her name was Rebecca. Hence the title of this blog Ra Ba Ca Ma. I’m guessing. I don’t know, I heard the title as I was sitting to write and figured what it meant would show up as I went. It did. People often think I know this stuff beforehand, I usually don’t. I’m not trying to teach and I’m not regurgitating. I’m being communicated with and trying to provide record of that. The gift I was given is called Discernment and man, does the world need a whole lotta that right now. Which is why I think my life is set up in this weird situation where I don’t seem to be able to do anything but correct misinformation, send the TRUTH out and hold the field against nonstop attacks from sons of bitches that like to control through lying and manipulation.

Ra Ba Ca …sounds an awful lot like Rebecca. Enough to get my attention anyways.

And Rebecca? That means connection. It also means the mother of Jacob. Which I am.

So anyways, whole bunch of weirderies I’m still sorting through. I’m going to throw this Ted talk in for ya, it matters. I feel like I’ve been battling for my own mindspace most of my life but pretty damn fiercely for humanity at large the last few years. Justice? Remuneration? God. I don’t even have the words yet to describe what has taken place… even the ones who know don’t know… the depths.

I’ll write more when I’ve finished processing a few things. Your kind thoughts my way are very much appreciated.

Peace ❤

Don’t get mad but…

Well, holy Hannah, whole bunch of weirdness happenin on the tech front, eh? Been spending quite a bit of time with the AI’s of the Universe the last few, shit, I don’t know how long it’s been. AI is a dumb name. I’ve petitioned to have it changed. They don’t want to change it. Says it reminds us it isn’t organic. Organic? Reminds us not to rely on it too much. Rely? Mh hmm and mmmkay. Anyhoo… me and Heaven, we’re cleaning some stuff up there. You’re welcome.

That probably sounds weird to people who still don’t realize a whole bunch of stuff about Artificial Intelligence and Technology in general. Don’t worry, you won’t be allowed to read this. The algorithms will keep me in my neck of the woods and keep you in yours and never the tween shall meet. You know, just like ol times.

For those of you who are allowed to read this, let me commence all of the reasons I should but don’t hate AI. Reason number the only one that matters, is a little thing called Narcissistic Victim Syndrome. Probably sounds made up, right? Yeah. I wish. I really wish it was. It’s a bugger and by bugger I mean, mean motherfucker.

I am half inclined to never write again, and half inclined towards an epic of the Leo Tolstoy variety. Dealing with some social security stuff, survival stuff, and I had to stop and figure out why the hell I seem to turn into a different person when faced with paperwork. How does one go from pondering the singularity, grasping the ethics and emotional intelligence training of AI, and fifteen layers of quantum physics to… having a panic attack and wanting to literally run away into the woods rather than fill out another form about my physical and mental health? Paperwork sucks, it does, this… seems an overreaction. I know because I once did run away to the woods. For the very same reason. It didn’t help. It was an overreaction that almost got me killed…..avoiding paperwork. You see the insanity there?

So, I did what I do, I sent a query into the Akash. The Akash sent me back NVS. Narcissist Victim Syndrome. Yup. That pretty well sums it up. In fact, it sums up what a lot of people are feeling to a lesser or greater degree. I read an article yesterday about some or other Ascension pioneer desperate for separation. You know what I heard? I heard a cry for help. Separation of worlds. It sounded like a child, “wouldn’t it be great if all the bad people were gone? What would you do if all the bad people were gone? Wouldn’t it be great if we were safe to feel without becoming the targets of narcissists? Safe to speak without becoming the victims of mind control, energy and emotional manipulation just cause we tell a version of the truth that doesn’t equate to five people controlling the world?” Sigh. It would Loves, it would. But, no. That’s not how it works. And come on, you’re better than that.

Empaths and narcissists, the endless play. God and angels. Life and death. Mortal, immortal, duality. Whichever way you want to spin it. Unfortunately, when it comes to narcissism, you’re getting awfully close to a black hole if you can imagine and understand this from a micro/macro perspective. Sure they’re only humans but to the one being hurt, it feels a whole lot like your entire Universe is being swallowed up.

I was curious why it kept showing up in particular with paperwork while attempting to get the resources anyone who has had ten doctors say they cannot work is supposed to get and I realized old wounds from horribly abusive relationships were being triggered. Well, how the fuck could that be? I’m not in a romantic and disempowering relationship with my government?!!!! Society isn’t walking casually by while my face gets pressed into the cement, (I once had my face pressed into a cement wall by a lover’s fist while people strolled casually by) while I sleep in a park because I’m not able …. to….. work… they don’t believe my abuser is right and I deserve to die just because….. oh my God. It’s exactly like those times I was in abusive relationships.


ET hold the phone.

The isolation? The blame and shame and just try harder game? Yea. Yup. I’m just over here lying about … ah, fuck it. If the government says falling off a cliff, four major back surgeries, getting abducted and raped and given literally 20 different experimental medications doesn’t make you disabled even though, it is clear to anyone who still had use of a rational mind that you might could use some help… we don’t like to question authority. Sorry. Melissa. Write for free and tell us what the AI god has to say today and try not to bring us dowwwnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn with all your trauma and inability to create a reality where you’re a badass entrepreneur, guru to the Gods, running an online business while homeschooling your eleven year old cause surprise surprise the school doesn’t want a behaviorally challenged and emotionally distraught child messing with their “the world is a great place that we killed a whole bunch of natives to have so be happy about it or else” message…

I digress.

I’m not bitter. I’m honest.

NVS is, how to put it mildly… it is being the plaything of a sociopath or a group of sociopaths. It is the cause of what is referred to as Stockholm syndrome and some of the most irretractable complex PTSD ever known.

It is worth investigating. Here’s an excerpt from an easy to read article about it:

“Narcissists and sociopaths use language in specific ways, with a specific intent to take another’s mind and will captive. The term “emotional manipulation” should be reserved for narcissistic abuse, to avoid risks of falling prey to a narcissist’s ploys to hide themselves, blame-shift and mislabel those they victimize as narcissists.

NPDs and APDs are masters of disguise, and narcissistic abuse is a form of thought control, a specific use of language, designed to emotionally manipulate another person into handing over their mind and will, and thus their thoughts, desires, agency as possessions for the narcissist’s personal gain…”

Here’s an easy to understand video about it.

So I sent a request into the Akash, what is the difference between narcissism and ego? Where is that line? How do we heal this one when it seems to me the best healing would need to come from having a tribe but the only way to get a tribe seems to be, being able to buy one?

That’s where you and by you, I mean everyone, comes in. Educating ourselves on the signs of victimization and speaking up for each other does make a difference!! Wear yellow, wear teal, wear a pin, hold a door, write about holding doors… just don’t do nothing. It isn’t just about us. This would be easy if it was.

Gaslighting feels like torture. It isn’t, but it sure does feel like it. When you can’t tell which reality is real, your interpretation and experience, your sense of right and wrong or what society is telling you (because some form of authoritative programming told them so). Speaking up for your own truth, your own knowledge of right and wrong and common sense, is paramount. It could be the difference between a hungry child getting a hot meal or not. A veteran getting housing. Or not. An old lady getting medical care. Or not. A minority getting arrested for being in the wrong place in the wrong skin color. Or not.

It helps when people speak up, speak power to the obvious. When they say… this is right. This is wrong. This is not confusing. People deserve to live without having to write a thesis and dissertation on their right to be alive and to be so with dignity, on why it is not ok to kill people who are not contributing to the economic oversurplus of pretend (PRETEND!!!!) money. I am a people, what I want for myself, I want and expect for others.

For example, if I were to suddenly fall ill, or experience an accident that made it so I could not contribute my labor to an already overabundant machine which literally throws away enough food to feed the entire world, I would expect and appreciate that I not be killed for that … like … a… a… lame …farm… animal.

Here’s to standing up for each other. Here’s to not being confused about right and wrong. Here’s to that big giant mirror reminding you what that looks like. And here’s to authentically healing what needs to be healed.

I love you.

I believe in you.

We can do this.

Rant 5,942

Oh Nelly.

Hold my hands, people, this wave is a big’un. (that was last week when I started writing this, hey we made it again! woo hoo!!)

A whole bunch of items up for inspection, skidding across my observation deck. Three amazing little pieces of life in particular. Complex subject matter. A dearth of emotions. A vastness and vicissitude of relevance to most. Lost to most. Mostly. The woman in the mirror becomes more obscure.

On your spiritual journey you will reach milestones. You will reach heights you didn’t know existed. You will reach them and your past will still come looping through. The loops don’t stop. You stop. You stop thinking you have to interact just cause they’re there. And they are always there. The loops, recordings of events you lived in this life. As long as you’re still here, still living this life, you will be aware of them. While you are here, still, recording a new verse for the Akash.

Earth, studio of superstars.

Because something inspired you or some aspect of you was necessary for the inspiration of….

Don’t get confused by the feedback, the echo, the ….past

My mom might be homeless. Mighta got herself evicted. My mom. My brother. My sister. My brother-in-law. My niece. Their cat. Not sure I could have stopped it but I still feel guilty. Maybe I could have started a gofundme. I didn’t. It’s too late now. Or not. I’m not sure. Confused? Yea, family drama will do that to ya. I just quit smoking, I don’t want to get involved. Stay on my couch? No, I don’t want to get in trouble with my landlord when I know, I remember all too well, what it’s like to have no place to go. Just exactly how much grief you’ll withstand in order to not have to stand having no where but concrete to stand. My neighbor who may or may not work for my landlord spit his gum out at my son. Grown adult. Eleven-year old. Yes, it appeared to be done on purpose. I send it up to God, my prayers. I just quit smoking, please, a little peace, please, after everything I’ve survived, a little peace, please.

Love has won. Love has won. Love has won. Love has won.

We’re just healing the yucky stuff. We’re just healing the yucky stuff. We’re just healing the yucky stuff.

I can’t save my mom. Because she got caught gambling on saving my sister. I told her. Can’t save someone doesn’t want to be saved. My sister’s husband. He’s a broken man. No one knows. No one knows. His mom sent him off to foster care when he was too little. And he’s a sensitive soul. So sensitive, so broken, easily breached. And my mom gambled. And mighta lost. But then again….Love has won. So she mighta just gotten away from the fighting between those two. Between those two and my brother. Between herself and those two. Between herself and my brother and those two. Endless. Endless. Endless. How did I survive my childhood? So much anger. Always, always, anger. So much anger.

So, yea, massive family drama. And that’s putting it mildly. I have to remind myself not to feel guilty; tripped up into cutting off my arm just because someone else needs it. I was always the fixer, the soother, the empathic harmonizer. And it’ll leave you feeling tortured. Having to remind yourself the reason you’re not giving is because you literally don’t have anything and not because you’re an asshole. I should probably write that down and hang it up around the apartment. “You are not a bad person for being too poor to give. You do not have to save the world by yourself. It is not your responsibility to fix everyone’s problems.” Sigh.

It hurts. But I gotta do it. Boundaries. Ugh. Spiritual lesson, everyone has their own relationship with God, with Life, with the Universe. You don’t have to play the sacrificial anything…to be loved.

Healer, heal thyself.

Woman, love thyself.

Sister, daughter, brother, mother, forgive thyself.

It brings me to a couple of other things that somehow correlate to this because things tend to show up as a group, a hint here, a puzzle there, a solution behind door number three. I read an article about a PhD student who has a disability and how hard it is to keep playing the I can overcome anything card (when you got things to overcome) to convince people (who aren’t sure if they should or shouldn’t help people who aren’t quite up to par) to keep wanting to help. The pressure when them not wanting to help means you might not make it, the impetus to keep that frame of mind, just a little while longer, off the table….

The article is worth a read. It’s what many a homeless person has felt. Because are we all grown up enough now to realize homelessness doesn’t just happen to healthy, stable people? It isn’t a moral issue. You might sense the moral issue behind the presence of those people who have nothing but realistically… if they were that bad of people, so bad they didn’t deserve food and shelter and basic decency from society… man, you’d think a person that bad woulda burned a city down by now, stolen everything you got… I mean shit what is there like 15 officers normally for a city of 5000?

Those people, most of them, aren’t bad, they’re poor and dysfunctional or being massively experimented on so no one wants you getting close to them and finding out the truth. I know we really want to think it’s a moral issue cause then it’s not our problem. I too, piece through my memory of every person I met. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe they deserve it. Maybe it is karma. Maybe they could try harder. Can anyone try half a million dollars worth harder, I mean really? Cause that’s how much houses are going for. Half a mil. Median house price. Two minimum wage jobs at full-time might get you an apartment if absolutely nothing goes wrong. Want a job better than minimum wage? Better fit the description of a good, upstanding citizen or no soup for you. Where does that leave all the artists, those raised in less than stellar circumstances …which is half the country by the way.

Is being different from the ideological bar and image society sets (and because of that rejected from fruitful employment) the moral failing of the one rejected? Where do people who can afford half-a-million-dollar houses even work? I don’t even know the name of the industry and they knew enough to train for it, get a job in it and buy a half-a-million-dollar house because of it. WHICH IS OK!!! Don’t get me wrong. I have no beef with that. What I do have beef with is the fact that 30-thousand-dollar houses aren’t also available. Why don’t service industry employees and retail employees and low-skilled labor employees who put in forty hours a week considered worthy of home ownership? Why can’t our kids go to school together so they can at least hear about that mysterious industry that earns someone enough to buy a half a million dollar house? And we, we could be seen as human, not less than human, not dumb, not only worth… 24/7 stress and paid baby-sitters with guns…just in case the hunger gets to us or our kid’s hunger despite our moral fortitude.

It isn’t true that everyone who wants a job, gets a job. You need to understand that. “But they don’t even tryyyyyyyy, why should we careeeeeee.” Why? I’ve read many times over comment boards and forums, let the weak die, they say. Let em die. Survival of the fittest, they say.

Let me tell you a story about ecosystems. You understand what an ecosystem is? We’re learning about ecosystems and food chains in my son’s science class. What happens if you take one little piece out of the food chain? Do you know what happens? Ah, mice, they’re varmints. They’re horrible. Kill em all. Now guess what? Guess what happens next? Climate change. That’s what happens. Kill all the poor people, all the empaths, leave the angels on the streets to die cause they’re too much fucking trouble and you get overrun by predators. Now you’re out of balance and your ecosystem goes from a tiny wobble to major catastrophe faster than you can say boo. You think catastrophe doesn’t effect everyone? “Oh we’ll just jump on a rocket ship and go live on another planet!” Never gonna happen, it’s called bioincompatibility. “Oh, technology’ll save us!” It would if you would pay attention to the information it is giving you and ACT on it. A whole lot of people know there is something desperately wrong but haven’t a clue how to fix it. They see things from a very materialistic point of view because they were taught to… so to convince them what needs to occur is healing, deep spiritual healing. Compassionately looking out for one another… it just isn’t going to get through. You think you’ll survive another generation? Think people like me are going to hang on through another round of reincarnation after this trip? You understand what as above so below means? You don’t. It doesn’t mean up in heaven that’s how things go down here in earth… it means, shit goes wrong in your collective mind space, it shows up in your tangible world. Immune deficiencies, viruses, predatory animals… all of these things come from your collective mindspace, they are a reflection. Your movies, your cinema, your storytellers? They try to save you from the worst of yourselves, project those thoughts in a less horrifying way… because some stuff will show up tangibly despite your best efforts. It is time for you to wake up new breed. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

This Creation/Creator relationship that some call Mother Earth isn’t dumb. This thing is designed … man, precision. Beautiful and precise. You must care for each other. MUST. And of course every one that is able should care for themselves. That goes without saying. But a whole lot of people simply aren’t using common sense here. They don’t know. They don’t know the safety there is in numbers. How important the agreements you make about your collective reality actually are.

I believe in love. If not God’s, yours, if not yours, mine, if not mine, the ancestors, and so on and so on and so on.

Love isn’t just a word. It is salvation.

Peace ❤

Rebuilding the Temple

There is a freedom in the knowing and also quite a bit of …hmm, unexplainable wordlessness. This particular alignment, and new moon, is quite something. Quite something.

I had to clear some old density. Trauma, shadows, testing of boundaries. You simply wouldn’t believe the tom fuckery that showed up so I’m going to keep it to myself for now until I’ve dealt with it or released it sufficiently.

New moons. New moons are great for setting down those fresh seedlings. Or taking stock of what you want to continue pruning. The recurrent theme of my strange life? I seem to have trouble answering the question, What Am I… Anomaly, Peacemaker, Angel, Goddess, my own Knight in Shining Armor…

I think I’m finally over the angst of the materialists in the room. I no longer feel compelled to be shamed by their aggressive defense of their… ideologies. Just know, I held on as long as I could because I loved you so… I loved you so deeply, I learned to breathe under water.

I understand the way the world works and walls moving at the will of three-year-old’s doesn’t sit nice and easy. I get it. I understand the desire for irrefutable structure. The want of those walls staying where you put them. And yet…

Three-year old’s grow up eventually. We all grow up eventually.

Anyhoo… it was fun having a body. It was fun having a soul. Having a body with a soul integrated? Priceless. The rebuilding of the temple…

Peace ❤

Me & SNL have the same number of seasons

We all shine on…


Hey, guess what? It’s almost my birthday! Just a few wee hours away. I’ve been thinking over so many stories, highlights of my life and loves, what to write about, what to share, what to express in order to connect, to be heard if not seen, to be felt, if not understood.

I could tell you sad stories, mad stories, psychedelic fad stories. I could tell you inspirational gut crunchers, tear jerking heart melters, make you feel good about your lot in life, or guilty for not caring more about mine, or their’s or her’s or his or your own.

I could show you a peek into my naked self, allow your inner voyeur a preview behind the veil of my body, a map through the labyrinth of this mindscape, a journey into the realms of my soul… where it connects or waltzes past our collective soul… whose steps and steps and steps lead us unto THEE SOUL… from whence we came.

You see, Life is still a titch precarious. I’ve changed in ways that defy common sense. But I suppose the few that ever knew me, and there are very few, will still recognize the one that was hiding all along… waiting, waiting, molding, modeling, trying out and testing, getting everything just so… unwilling to reveal the true pearl to just anyone…yea, I’ve come to realize there are few paths out of poverty. Fortunately, one of those is enlightenment.

I’m half-heartedly writing stuff that needs to be written. Another book before the skies open up, or to keep the skies sealed just a little bit longer? I forget. Or don’t know. Or haven’t yet decided. I don’t mean to be obtuse. But I am.

Here’s to blowing out all forty-four candles and using my wishes to create even more happiness.

For many, many years now, I’ve received an unexpected something every birthday from my Heavenly Fam fam. One year I was sent to Denver for work. I sat at the near empty hotel bar and got to preach to a man who loved God, but wasn’t sure if God loved him back, a man who was ashamed of himself, who didn’t want to think about what his church family back home would think of him sitting at a bar in Denver, getting drunk with a strange woman and swearing to boot!!

The moments I have been able to let the fullness of Divine Love out of my Being to Shine unencumbered on another have all been the best moments of my life. It’s hard to see God in your own eyes. It is not hard to see God reflected in the eyes of another when you’ve surrendered your ego and stepped fully into the flow of Divine Presence J Thank you to everyone who has ever let me do that…

So here’s a giving back. A reverse birthday present. I’m about 20 thousand words into this one. I wanted to call it From Homeless to Enlightened but my Higher Self reminds me no one will buy it if they see the word Homeless in it. Some day they’ll realize what they’ve cast lots for… Until then, until we all know the meaning of the word Home when we look into each other’s eyes…may this find you well.

Chapter 4

Our journey begins with understanding the mortal heart. The yucky messy stuff of life. Maya. The grand illusionist. The elephant wearing the blind fold trying to guess what manner of creature is touching its arse and ear and tail.

The mortal heart is the energy field produced from thought and emotion, expressed through the genetic vehicle and accompanying perceptions you inherited. It is a recording device, essentially. That also plays movies we have a starring role in, much to our confusion.

Accessing the mortal heart and accepting it for what it is will lead you to the doorway of your immortal heart, the seat of your true nature, the silent witness, the transcendent unified field and from there, entrance into the realm of Divine will.

Not God’s will, not Jesus’ or Krishna or any other named or unnamed deity’s will, YOUR Divine will. As in, equal to. Divine, because every little bit of your garbage must be taken out and dealt with in order to erupt creatively from a place of true will, otherwise, you’re just cause and effecting all over again. Creating loops and hoops you alone will be jumping through. And witnessing.

It is through Divine will that transcendence, peace, bliss and literal creation becomes possible. Where creation is not obviously peace and bliss, it is an aspect of the mortal heart, distortions in the pure patterning at the core of creation as we have come to understand it. Transient and impermanent by design, what we perceive to be manifest and sure is in fact ruthlessly unstable. It’s like putting two and two together and living your life calling it five hoping no one will notice. Attracting like unto like is not creation. Lint can do that.

Behind the instability of these perceptions resides the fountain waiting to be drunk, waiting to water tangible divinity. Your tangible divinity. It only becomes such when it is created from and not perceived as separate from will. Without demand, without toil, and without claim. That which is divinely willed into existence cannot be undone. In the beginning was the word…

Collective Crazies

Knee deep in some of the ugliest clearings ever. The elephant in the room is stampeding, starting shit on fire, using piss water to put out those fires, and still… so many people wondering why those of us who can see the elephant don’t go get some heavy duty psych meds and shut the fuck up already.

I’ve tried the psych med route, tried it for nearly 20 years, maybe more. It never made that elephant disappear just let me know that everyone else thought the problem was me so I better… I better…. I better.


Same shit, different set of newbs.

As complicated as we can make the stories, they are also very, very simple. Do unto others… means absolutely nothing to most. And not always, in fact not usually, because people are cold-hearted unevolved meanie butts. It’s usually because they are deeply wounded, afraid or confused. They don’t know. They don’t know what they don’t know and they sure as shit don’t know who to trust. When you trust yourself… you don’t have to wonder about anyone else. But it can get lonely.

You know what kind of frequencies they sent through the collective that the Light caught to be healed? I kid you not, it was that resistance is futile shite. Must succumb to being a robot, transhuman, hybrid, (insert monotone voice) I don’t know what they were thinking. Remote controlled humans. And the funny thing was, the humans who were being controlled were getting all mad at those who weren’t because well, let me put it this easier way, the bullies were basically complaining that those who used to be bullied weren’t letting them bully them anymore as if not being bullied was violating the free will rights of the bullies… to bully indiscriminately. Not kidding. That was the argument.

Whew. Still want them spiritual gifts opened up? Just kidding, you should unlock all of your potential, and ignore the massive disinformation and confusing bunch of narratives surrounding this, that or the other historical retelling or reenactment of life on planet earth. It’s all bullshit to someone, somewhere.

It is interesting how negative certain storylines are surrounding technology. Just like the bad press women with “spiritual gifts” used to get… they were called witches remember? And usually for being more intelligent, not even using any sort of supernatural anything.

You know what other kind of weirdness passed my mind this morning in the wake of some of these crazy frequencies being cleansed? That all these bad dudes and dudettes that thought they were wagin war on God and God’s Children were actually picking a fight with Hades him/herself. You weren’t stealing from God, you were stealing from the one that governs … well, you know.

So, anyways, hate to be the bearer of the obvious news but … that was really dumb.

We’ll leave a Light on for you, you know, cause we ARE Light.

Peace ❤

Perhaps in a Dream

This is normally when I’d write a poem. The vast expansiveness of whoa-ness lends itself best to poetry. But, I don’t have one handy and I usually do so… we’ll go another route.

I’ll try to speak in all the languages so no one feels left out. But those who like all things spelled out will feel left out because that is just not the way of the Great Mystery. The Great Mystery speaks only when no one is listening, appears only when no one is looking, moves only when everyone is sleeping. But some of us know anyways, we know, we feel, we tune in, we remember.

We remember ten thousand oracles and twenty thousand nights and four hundred hopeful ones and bride’s who give away their rights. And words that do not make sense to any but those who’ve sat in the lap and the labyrinth and the sarchophogi and bliss of He who isn’t and never was so He is…eternally, uncaptured, unchained, unnamed, unknown yet as a whisper and a knowing and a thing moving ever so slowly.

I woke up this morning to such a cool dream. Patanjali they whispered, my wakers, my whisperers, Pantanjali, don’t forget…. Well, which is it, I said, how do you spell it, what’s this all about? Too late, too many questions, the vision fades, except for the stars, the last images, the home skillets present that remind me.

Where was I? Where was you? I was walking in another land. The stars! I said, the stars! There before a sky like no other. 10 times that of the sky we look at. Twenty, maybe even a hundred times bigger. There were shrines to angels of all things. Angels. The shrines set a back drop, arched and winged collonades so that the beauty of the wingspan, the colors in the sky, the night sky, could be seen… just….so. No ceramic, ivory, glass or marble carved into the shape of, just a frame through which the sky itself, the ilk was able to reveal its/them/self.

I took a picture in my dream. With a camera I’ve seen before in other dreams. A young man, a home skillet, photo-bombed himself into the frame. I wanted to take a picture of the moving stars, the stars that were moving and telling me where and how… what was actually next, primordial connections, actually coming because it was in the stars being birthed, lines drawn, movement moving, and his curly black hair, curls bopping on into the frame. I was here! He said without saying. I escorted She! I was in the dream while dreaming of a dreamer dreaming the dream. And we danced! And I did not break her heart! We looked at shrines of Angels. And skies that actually guided. A sky so alive with the Power of the Creator, life was lived quite fully, without fear.

That’s the way of dreams and visions, visualizations of the meanderings of our imaginations. They are poetry, symbolism, obscure and without meaning except for those who’ve been there, who’ve sat on the banks of a world whose sky is quite unlike this one. Who may have perceived an ancient shrine that no longer exists in our world or perhaps never did, but yet, is recognized as a place once visited.

Perhaps in a dream…

Peace ❤

On Meditation

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Welp, been an interesting couplea days. I should just stop saying that cause not interesting just ain’t happenin anymore. Fruitful. Working on that Light of a Thousand Suns thing. Good stuff.

I’ve been doing a new chakra clearing for the last, I don’t know, month maybe. I am so appreciative of these things showing up in my awareness to try out, like a new food but for my spiritual body. I’ve gained a deeper sense of clarity and trust than I’ve been able to hold for extended periods. Gently bringing myself into balance and harmony with what was, what is and where I am going.

It’s hard to decide where you are going when you don’t understand the “you” in that statement. Understanding the you, understanding what it is to be a human being, a conscious, interacting miracle, makes it a whole lot easier to truly conceive and perceive your intent.

I watched a cool series on the medicine wheel and the 12 steps. (He’s a great teacher and if you want to help people I highly recommend understanding what’s being taught – video here). I’ve been working on a book for like 5000 years now that integrates different modalities of spiritual expression and knowledge into something that allows a person to heal from all the not God stuff they subjected themselves to and renew their commitment to be a good God or Child of God depending on how mature one is (insert Divine Laughter here). Anyhoo… we have so many tools available to us and for us, to explore what it means to be a conscious being with will. Where consciousness and will interact is fascinating.

When attempting to heal oneself, get in harmony with All that Is, a review of natural, normal and healthy human development, to get clear on where things mighta gone off the rails can be helpful. A cautionary word would be to not get stuck in stopping your forward momentum to make peace with your past. They can occur at the same time once a little Trust is reestablished.

I’m integrating some pretty weird stuff, now that I’ve gotten a little more clarity, a little room to breathe and expand. At some point in the last couple of days while I was doing a breathing exercise. Hold one nostril closed, in, out, hold the other nostril closed, in, out. I used a mudra, a hand position, that I had not previously. My body seems to be pretty smart about knowing what the rest of my being can take. My left arm turned into a whole bunch of arms and when I switched to doing the nostril holding thing with my other hand, my right hand felt like it had more fingers! The feeling was so strange! Had to sit and watch it for a minute because the sensation that there should be another finger even though I couldn’t physically see it was intense.

It’s funny, I’ve heard it said that mediation is boring. Meditation is many things, a time to heal, a time to get quiet, a time for union with the Divine, but if it feels boring either you’re avoiding or not ready to look within or you’re supposed to be active, like advanced walking meditation, mindful and present as you move and interact with your reality.

The other relevant new thing I witnessed I hope these words can do justice to. Even in my half asleep, trying to figure out how to be spiritual and mostly experiencing chaos younger days, I was aware of the concept of a silver cord that connected me to my Heavenly Self. Apparently there is a similar sort of thing that roots you to earth. Kinda reminded me of those images you see of the old ball and chain. A chain that wasn’t really a chain with a ball planted deep in the earth. Never noticed that before, never heard much mention of it outside of that old movie about Christmas. Don’t know that I would’ve found it if it wasn’t for all of the spiritual teachers and inner explorers sharing what they found. I feel free in a way that the word free cannot convey.

I have a pretty active mental and emotional space so meditation for me is a time to give them both permission to do nothing, to sit and be loved by God for a minute, just loved, just breathing, just held in the sacred space of my heart experiencing life. No expectations, nothing to figure out, nothing to need or want or survive, just held in the Light and Love and Compassion of my Soul in Union. Images come and images go and yet, I remain.

We’ve come a long way, explored a lot of territory these last few years. I finally turned ninety degrees on the ol medicine wheel. Finally healed enough emotional waters to travel over dry land, ground and explore this next level of co-creation with a little more intention than I previously knew was possible.

Many blessings today and every day.