I don’t remember the exact year that Maggie came into my life. She was a childhood dog. I think I must have been nine or ten; My first child hood dog Pepper, was reaching up there in age and I suppose my parents thought it was a good idea to bring in another dog so the death transition wasn’t too traumatic for young children who had their mother die.
There is no way I would ever be thinking about this if it wasn’t for the here and now, and the timeless nature of things.
Okay, so, Maggie was a Brittany Spaniel my folks picked up from the local shelter. She was young and energetic… she really liked to jump up on people, which is an “unwanted behavior”. I was at an age where I had to perform chores for an allowance, and one of those chores was picking up dog shit. I would try and have fun with Maggie as I cleaned up the dog yard. One of the things I would do is try and get her to not jump up on me, that is like dog 101.
Maggie didn’t have a super long life. She died in my New Kids On the Block blanket, it was my prized possession about the time she came into our life. It seemed right she passed on in it.
I didn’t realize that I have been working with her too. I never thought of her as “my dog.” I wasn’t allowed to even if I wanted to. She was a “family dog.” I think so that my brother and I didn’t argue about such nuance. I’ve literally been picking up animal poop in some capacity for the last 28 years. You only do that stuff for true friends, and in return, a true friend will try and make that as easy on you as possible if they see you struggle with it.
Maggie knew that I thought picking up crap was horrible, but I think she also sensed my magic and imagination tied to the desire to try and make a miserable task bearable. True durability of connection.
When I was a kid, I wanted an animal of my own SO BAD! I wanted something that was my own that I loved deeply. When I finally was able to do that the situation was so weird.
I rescued a meat rabbit from the neighbors. They had hired me to feed their animals while they were out of town and I fell for one of their rabbits. So my dad built a hutch and I was able to have this Hunny Bunny. She was reddish, and had black accent and this little bald mole spot above and to the side of her right eye. It was that spot that made me want her.
Our relationship didn’t work out. She definitely needed more attention, and she had to sleep outside in the hutch all of the time. It isn’t the way I would treat a bunny. But my parents were more about having domestic “outside” animals and rules for things like that. I wanted to cuddle with furballs.
I don’t remember how I handled Maggie dying in my blanket on the couch. I remember telling my dad that the rabbit was getting vicious and we needed to send it back to nature so we let her go down by a pond near our house… where I didn’t think she would last very long. And that is what we did… we gave her back to nature.
I now see Hunny in Quantum Dream Cat. So this story isn’t going to stop. If animals are here to assist us in being elevated humans, I am full on board. I am listening.
Again I will say, I am so full of love right now. This is quite the experience.
It is Tuesday night. Journey has had two full days with me.
Here I am going to compile a list of similarities that I have seen in her that I knew to be distinctive Claddagh traits, and other interesting synchronizations that I have observed. It is like Claddagh 2.0… maybe this is what happens when you get animals near Roswell…
The first time I ever took Claddagh in the car, we mutually wanted to hold hands. On drives we would often “hold hands.” – Journey did the same thing on her first car ride with me.
The “give me a hug” prompt- paws on my lap, “full hug” paws on shoulders.
Same gentle nature about taking treats, and transporting her “baby doll” (new stuffy.)
Played Bastille “Pompeii” and sang full volume with her and the cats and they acted like this was old news. Which it is… or was like back in June or July I was on a kick.
Her type of breed is Mountain Cur. A type of hound used to tree small animals and hunt small game. They were prized during the times of the American Settlers and are considered the original Pioneer dog. Pioneers would bring puppies by caravan, at times carrying them to the next destination. This is Journey’s litter-al story.
My uncle is fearful of pits, but an absolute lover of hounds.
Everything that I transmitted about this living situation to this dog, through my heart is playing out like it’s already been lived.
When I look at her I am 100% comforted and satisfied like being with an old friend and she treats me the same way. My bed (or ours?) is her favorite spot in the house, besides being by my side.
I know when her tail is in proper position she is “integrated.” Tonight, she was sitting like a normal dog, tail out, and not tucked under herself. She is whipping it around like a very happy entity.
The first night Journey was here, she pee’d and pooped in the garage. She peed on the box of all the stuff I removed from the Malibu before taking it to salvage. The car I had as long as I had Claddagh.
She fell in love with my dad right away.
She enjoyed having a conversation with my Uncle today, in the sunshine, in the same spot Claddagh would hang out with him almost every day.
Claddagh had the cutest little underbite, Journey has the most perfect teeth I have ever seen on a dog. Almost like she had braces.
Both of them have the same intersection of “third eye kiss zone”. Claddagh’s was her black dot. Journey’s is her brindle radiation.
Claddagh knew what it was like to be spayed before ever getting pregnant, like Capricious. Journey knows what it is like to lose her litter and be spayed like Quantum. (Like I am saying, it’s Claddagh 2.0)
It took years for Claddagh to learn to be patient for the door to open, and even when she got it, at times she would be pushy. Journey steps aside and prefers to be invited in. (There is no reason this dog should have been on death row, right? Maybe that is the first place you should look for your soul animal. )
Claddagh going to the animal shelter about a month before passing, and acting like a complete confident dog when I picked her up. Like “I mastered this. I can do it again.” And me making mental note of that at the time.
All the things you should absolutely not do when meeting a dog for the first time, when you know nothing about them- I did confidently. I can dress this dog up and she acts like the same limp noodle I use to know. I can get in her face and I know she won’t bite it off. I can touch her paws, and look into her mouth. The eyes really are the window to the Soul.
I mean, you can take it or leave it… but why would you want to, if you know that your reality is bigger and better and more amazing than you are taught to believe? Why?
I constantly talk about my dedication to Creation, all of this is confirmation of my faith and trust in the extraordinary. Extra Ordinary. There is still more to be explored.
I suffer the affliction of the heart. At times how to express it. This contract with this animal soul allows me to channel it and stay grounded. She isn’t just a “pet”.
‘Claddagh’ is the Irish wedding band. Hands holding a heart with a crown. You can show if you are taken or not by it’s position. It stands for “Love, loyalty and Friendship” the circular band is Infinity. When I finally knew what Claddagh’s name was, I was committed 100% for FOREVER past the Apocalypse. I know it sounds crazy… but look at the times we are living in.
My soul has work to do and I can’t do it without that companionship.
In December, it happened- all of the scrolling through FB pages looking for the “perfect dog” while daily breaking my own heart looking at all those fur balls that need furever homes- I finally saw her.
I knew it from her eyes. No picture of any dog spoke to me like this one did. She had recently been posted for rescue, and I wanted to be first on the list. So late that night, I filled out an application with magnanimous amounts of hope and love brewing within my soul. When I looked at this picture, I knew that I knew this dog even though she was rescued 622 miles away. Then I looked at her number. The last four digits are the same as my SSN. Weird right? Not to me- just a sign of synchronicity to come.
Over the course of the next day, my application was put into process, but Nina (as they called her) was tagged by a rescue based in the Colorado Springs area with fosters all across the Front Range. Usually they don’t deal with interested fosters this far North because they don’t have many connections in the area to make transports easier.
Perfect timing, was that application was filled out right before Christmas and most people were entrenched in their holiday plans, making transport a bit more complicated. At first I thought it would only be a few days before she would head my direction, but after further assessment they realized she is not spayed and had kennel cough. They would be unwilling to do surgery until the cough was cleared up… So, baby had to sit in quarantine for a few days until she was cleared for surgery. I was told it could be a couple of weeks.
It was fine. I was willing to be patient. Patience comes easy when you are sure it is The One. I wanted to make sure that she was healthy enough to travel and if we had to wait a little longer, then it would be worth it.
Finally last week she was cleared for transport. She would be here Sunday January 13, 2019.
In the weeks leading up to Nina’s transport, I began a process of talking to her through my psychic centers, just like I use to with Claddagh. I told Nina about my home life, the people in it and my other pet friends. I told her about the expectations I have for a calm house life. I told her about Claddagh and how much she meant to me. I told her, that I would be her last spot. I am her Home.
Every night before falling asleep I would tell the kitteries about our new friend. And, as I drifted to slumber I would send all the healing love energy to this new but suffering companion.
Jump back to 2007, when Claddagh came into my life. I was living with friends in Gilpin, Colorado. Friends who are on a higher wave length when it comes to spiritual discussions and how spiritual dynamics effect our reality. Friends who, themselves are animal lovers.
During one of the animal discussions the topic of animal reincarnation was brought up because even at first I was afraid of losing Claddagh. I was already preparing for her death in my psyche. This is when my friend Lindy started talking about animal reincarnation and soul companions in the form of pets.
That we contract with souls of animals for lessons and companionship in learning those lessons. That once we fell in love with an animal it was imparted with a Soul Personality. Given the duration of life is much shorter for an animal, their Souls are allowed to return in different bodies, if the contract is still active.
I always felt like I would be with Claddagh forever and ever, amen. I certainly didn’t feel like our contract was up when I had to say “good-bye.”
In spiritual communities it is talked about that animal reincarnation can take one of three forms. The soul being born into the body; the soul “walking into” a body that is already established in the world, and Soul Braiding.
Soul Braiding is when say a dying animal Soul contracts with another animal soul that is living. They contract to share a body and a personality in order to continue the initial soul contract with the human the first animal Soul was tied to. Essentially the living animal Soul agrees to bind with the dying animal Soul, and facilitate a continuation of where things left off.
Far left, right? Totally fucking Woo-woo, right?
I don’t think so.
Due to a scheduling conflict I was unable to pick up Nina from transport and I had to arrange for someone else to bring her to me. I noticed my dad was working near Fort Collins that day, and I offered a home made quiche for help in the matter. I asked him because the last time Claddagh disappeared, my dad arrived at the shelter before I did in order to help locate her. He also said to me “Mandie, you need to get another dog.” I figured if he was a strong advocate, then he would be of excellent assistance for uniting me with my newest friend. Plus he really likes dogs, and I think they know that about him.
Finally around 8:20pm they walk through the door. Nina is apprehensive as all get out. Her tail curled between her back legs, even when sitting down. She was easy under my dad’s control of the thin leash. She wasn’t sure about me. She wasn’t sure of anything except that she was comfortable with my dad. Ha! The man was worried she wouldn’t like him, and now she was thinking that she was suppose to leave with him… Sorry, puppers, you are staying with me.
After my dad left, she wandered around looking for him. Going back to the front door and just standing there giving little whines.
My pupception tells me that Soul Braiding began sometime between November of 2017 when Quantum adopted me, and March 2018 when the kittens were born. I also assume this is when the slow growing tumor began on Claddagh’s heart. Claddagh being 100% Love, wasn’t going to leave me stranded and alone. And in fact, the cats were the best support in my mourning.
Nina, in my estimation in between 9 months and a 1.5 years old, and seems to me that she is part of the timeline. This is why the process for her to come to me, despite distance, has perfectly aligned.
The piece of Claddagh’s Soul that is in this Nina, began to wake up on the drive with my dad. She sensed a familiarity that was safe.
After he left, I let her wander around the house and check everything out. Then she snuggled up on the sleeping bag in the garage and I read to her my Letter to my Future Dog. As I did, she stared at me. Giving me direct eye contact, which took Claddagh years to become confident enough to do. And we just stared at each other, me with tears in my eyes catalyzed by the overwhelming love and familiarity that I was feeling.
Shortly after that she began to unfurl. Her tails still seemingly timid in it’s expression, was now starting to go outward, instead of under. When before she wasn’t interested in coming to me, now all of a sudden she wanted to be right by my side.
There were some tests. I kept taking her outside, hoping she would go… but it was still overwhelming her. She came back in, and I ran inside to put Gma to bed. When I came back out there was a very fresh and large pile of poop on the concrete floor. Claddagh would never make a mess on carpet if there was an option, and that wasn’t something that I taught her, just like she would never poop on a trail.
I notice the poop, and Nina notices me notice the poop and she hunches into herself again, acting as if she will get reprehended. Instead I got excited! It looked like really healthy poop, and I was happy to know that she was able to clear her bowels. I told her good job, cleaned up the mess and put down some enzymes so she knows that isn’t the location for that in the future. She unfurls even more, it’s confirmed she “Is a Good Girl.” She need not worry about abuse for mistakes or accidents. Her comfort comes out in abounding waves.
We stay up until 4:30 in the morning, playing a sort of “getting to know you.” But do you know what she wants most of all? Just to be cuddled with me. When we finally went to bed, she was right there in the bed with me, like it’s been forever.
Today, she was a completely different animal from when she walked through the door. We went on a car ride, and she is perfect. We went to the feed store and she was perfect. She is observing the other animals and people, and still showing some timidness, but also a sort of excitement… she wants them to like her.
Quantum isn’t impressed with me currently and I think it’s because I relocated her and Capricious downstairs while we figure out introductions and dynamics. I think in a week everything will go into normal routine and the kitteries can come back up to my room and we can live like the weird little family that we are.
Current things that have happened in the last less than 24 hours that give me confidence in Soul Braiding;
1. When I ask her for a hug, she puts her paws on my knees. When I say full hug, she brings her paws to my shoulders, and we give a full hug.
2. She wants to hold hands while driving.
3. Her favorite spot is right next to me, regardless.
Those three things were a daily component of living with Claddagh for almost eleven years. How is it this timid dog just walked right into that alignment with out me asking her to?
The answer is The Soul Knows.
I’d like to introduce my new best friend; Journey.
The vibration of the soul, and the blood combined brings forth our flesh, in this spiritual contract we manifest in form, the features of history within us.
It’s true that they are attempting to kill off certain bloodlines. To suppress certain peoples. Those peoples feel the Truth in their own life blood. It’s required that they meet a certain range in vibration in order to be activated.
There are many yet to activated and they are being drawn in various directions in order to harvest the life force they have left while being blind to their own brilliance.
In actuality the frequency and vibration is killing off those who seek to kill off the “Natural Light.”
This is where we meet the trans-human agenda. The desire for clones and all around trans-formative manipulation geared toward infinite longevity.
Those of Natural Light in Creation know the Truth. It was contract as such. We don’t need modern technology to utilize it, once we remember it exists.
The best thing technology gave us, was the ability to reconnect instantly. The result is an archive of shared remembrance. If this medium goes away, know that your heart has an internal voice that needs no words to speak. You have internal eyes that see beyond your dreams. You have a gut that brings awareness to things that are amiss.
We are already full operating systems that have to remember how to get back to the home feed- alone. That is Heaven, or Infinity. The journey is singular at your own pace until it isn’t.
If you have been feeling something is amiss; it has been. If you feel a strange shift; it’s shifting. If you feel a calling for Higher Truth; follow it.
One of the most amazing things that can happen, is when you want something to happen and it does without any active provocation.
Today I was able to chat with the best friend of my deceased brother. I’m sure he is mentioned somewhere in this digital archive that I need to go have printed at Kinko’s/ Fed Ex.
We don’t talk often, but when we do, I think it is stellar both domestically and celestially.
Let’s face it, I don’t talk to many people very often. And when I have a day of insightful conversation I know the world is about to shift again. I feel like everyone else does, just before it happens… a sense of imbalance, perhaps a need to purge, vent and connect.
If people were stars, I would be a distant star in the middle of a few clusters. I might even be a nebula in the middle of some star systems… I don’t know, I am not an astrophysicist, I am a writer/ thinker who likes analogies.
Either way, shit is happening on the other side of the veil and I am well aware of it, and so are you, even if you don’t get it.
9/11 is a hallmark day. (Like Hallmark Cards. If you don’t have words for it, Hallmark has a card for it.) Only, if Hallmark has a card, it is cryptic. You’d be better to wait for their holiday ornament.
Feeling uppity or downity with your friends and fam today? Feeling a strong desire to make life changing decisions with little to no planning? Writing things like this, that may seem cryptic?
It’s what is up right now. World wide. This is part of the “matrix” the “construct.” There is a self destruct mechanism built into the program.
Fight it. Stop falling in line with this false “make it look pretty, because it is better than nothing” paradigm. Fight it, and STOP IT.
I won’t until I’m stopped.
It’s another precipice.
People like me feel ultimate isolation because there is little to inspire real connection and the game gets old. So if you face certain realities, while realizing that the best connections you may have will be momentary in times of struggle. You realize you have to hold tight when others can’t. The only way this is possible is when you realize the bigger joke of the matter and if we really do live in game theory, some of us are the people you have to find in order to save yourself in the game in order to move to the next phase.
I’m no savior, but I am a point of re-connection to that other reality which is unavoidable at some point.
Yet again I am trying to downsize and further compartmentalize my life. Shed some of that heavy weight that no longer serves me. It’s hard to do because it requires me to dig into my past and this time it went to an even weirder zone.
Did you ever see that movie “Stranger Than Fiction” with Will Ferrell? If not, you should and then maybe you will get the same sensation about your own life, especially if you are the artistic or wordy type.
Basically, today I got the sincere feeling I have been writing my life out, before I actually live it… or something to that degree. I can look at a piece of writing and know when and why I was writing it at the time, but the way I write things is subconsciously coded language. I don’t know how or why this happens specifically, but I have some assumptions.
The thing about all of this is, I haven’t had a bad life, over all. I’ve had a rudimentary amount of pain in comparison to other people. My family is full of good people who tried their best to offer what they could within their means, and probably unbeknownst to me, went above and beyond when needed.
So all I can do is ask myself “What the actual fuck?”
I am going to admit that most of my journals are a massive spiritual battle. It has been that way as far back as I have recorded my life. The journaling started around age 12, but I can go back to certain creations done in Elementary School and see a depth that is or was seen as some what abnormal for a kid that age.
“She is five- going on thirty five.” My grandma would say when I was little. I wanted to sit at the adult table. I wanted to converse. I had questions and quips beyond my years. Spirit has been speaking to me forever.
Now perhaps this is just the byproduct of losing a parent at a young age and the feeling that I had to grow up quickly to compensate. Maybe I was just born this way. Who knows? I do know that I drove my mother crazy when I was just a small child. Enough so, for her to strip me down to basically nothing and leave me on the front stoop with the old adage “If you don’t want to be here, you are going to leave the way you came in.” Naked and shivering.
It’s okay. My aunt lived a couple of blocks away, and my mom would call her and tell her to come pick me up. She would come over, packed with some over-sized clothing that belonged to my cousin. She would wrap me up and take me back to her place until the whole thing calmed down.
Once my dad said, “If your mom was still alive, you would probably be at each others throat.” Sometimes I feel like I am getting that experience with my grandma. It isn’t a “hate” or loathing issue… it’s just this weird temperament that arises out of our idiosyncrasies and difference in ideologies. It’s the byproduct of being stubborn and bull headed while still having the best intentions in love.
A stranger once told me “It’s easier to paint yourself into a corner than it is to write yourself out of a box.” That has stuck with me for over a decade. I wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but today, I think I got it.
It goes back to Abracadabra. A spell or incantation using the ABC’s. This is why writing and words are magical. This is how words hold a vibration that can influence the reality we live in… it’s the way you can send prayers or well wishes or destroy a life in a single breath.
My family can be traced back to the Druids on my Mother’s Father’s side. There is some witchery in the blood, and that blood still courses through my veins. I don’t purposely perform rituals or magik; I have a feeling there are a lot of us who don’t. We settle on titles like “artist” or “writer” or “musician.” We feel and feed on an indescribable power that fuels our creative spirit. Words will almost magically manifest on the page without too much work. We feel born knowing the Muses. At least, this is how it has always been for me.
I haven’t had to try too hard in creative ways. “It just comes to me.”
I don’t profess this as any sort of braggart, in fact, in this moment I am questioning all of it. My family is a mixed up match of “tight lipped” and deceased, I don’t know where I can go to discuss this openly, so I leave it here for you, my few but beautiful readers. I am realizing that I need to figure out a way to console myself. Feel free to send suggestions.
“The calm before the storm” is over. I know it and I feel it with a force that is hard to describe. As I read through these papers and place them in a new container, I am god smacked.. I’ve predicted future patterns in my life with no intention of doing so; in alignment with that, the writing has predicted patterns of humanity and what would be worth our attention. This leads me back a post I made about a week ago in regard to purpose and being a dreamer. In this moment, I want nothing more than someone I could share the depth of this with, but I don’t have that someone, which is a reoccurring theme in my personal writing that I rarely share.
I see in this moment that this specific loneliness is a representation of that spiritual battle. We are all looking for connection in various ways. I believe in Creation, I believe that Creation will not be out done. I know I can’t out-create Creation. That knowing can be overwhelming, like “why even try?” not to mention the clutter! I make and make and make a mess and an abundance of stuff that may end up at a thrift store or a landfill. I’ve carried paper around, weighing many many pounds over thousands of miles for what?
This is the moment it all shifts. I might not see the evidence of it immediately so I will leave room for it to shift as quickly as it wants to.
While going through things I stumbled on a good-bye note from a woman named Cecily Monk. I didn’t know her well, or for very long but I really liked her personality. She felt like a person that I would have had a long friendship with if we would have had more time together.
Anyway, when she left Keystone, Colorado I was at work and she left a note.
The last line is quite potent; “…and remember the journey of self discovery comes not in seeing new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” So obviously she was a fan of Proust, or one of her teachers had the actual quote “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” on a motivational poster or something.
I like that she added the word “self” and “journey” because the timing is perfect for today. Journey vs Voyage is appropriate because I perceive a Journey to be far more relaxed than a Voyage. Voyage makes me think of a specific conquest, for which I have had none up until this point. The actual Proust quote takes on a deeper meaning when I rehash my words and see that in fact, I have been on a Voyage but I didn’t know it. And I have had conquest but I didn’t acknowledge it.
It all comes down to love and forgiveness. And this is going to be so hard because there is a lot of bad shit happening in the world right now. But just like I am finding illumination in my own writing, we are going to find illumination in just how fucked up humanity has been by bringing it to light.
Today I wanted to get rid of EVERYTHING. I was feeling oppressed at how much garbage we consume and throw away. I was overwhelmed by the massive pressure of pain that is the human condition. I wished I wasn’t part of it because there is no easy solution and by the looks of it, it’s only going to get worse. I thought about all the mundane stuff we do on any given day just to maintain a “standard” of living. I thought about all the people who loath the work they do just for a paycheck.
I kept thinking, and thinking about all the stuff I can not stand. How disappointing all of our entertainment is because it’s coded and getting increasingly ominous in content. I thought about how my creative spirit has been lost because I can’t imagine things getting better and I am sick of rehashing this old script that we are being fed on the daily. Believe it or not, I believe this rumination to be a good sign. My art and dreams and writing tell me so. We really are dancing on the tip of a needle right now.
As I dug through this box the skies turned dark outside. A while letter the rain came pounding down in sheets. I laughed out loud and asked if this was a baptism and as I went to shut the screen door the water was falling so fierce that it was splashing out of the rain gutters. In the few seconds it took me to move the block in front of the door (which is actually a heavy concrete lawn statue of a sleeping man wearing a sombrero) I was soaked and a bit elated.
This isn’t over, though. I had just begun this excavation and there were more treasures to dig up, so this is only a taste of what that was. To a certain degree I’ve been pulled into my own mystery. I am sure it is appropriate timing as next month I will turn thirty-eight. My life has been amazing, it’s hard not to think it’s a shame that I have felt so heavy through all of it. Even in times of levity, the gravity of reality has kept me solid and grounded. Luckily people like that about me, but if they didn’t it wouldn’t really matter because it feels unchangeable.
Last night I re-watched Eternal Sunshine of the the Spotless Mind for the second time, since the first time years ago when it came out on video. I saw it with new eyes, but I knew the story and when I watched it the story came flooding back. Looking through my life in writing produces the same feeling. (Another topic I could probably go to length writing about, but not right now.)
I sense that things are starting to sync up for me again and I am not sure what that means. I will probably be able to glean some knowledge from further exploration but I don’t know if I will wake up with the energy to keep on tomorrow… or if I will sit in stasis again for a while. I’ve been practicing forgiveness for myself, and part of that is finding patience when my desires are so vast. Giving myself time to figure things out without a strict timeline. It isn’t easy. It’s hard not to compare myself to other people and their obvious accomplishments. I think “I’m just sitting on a stack of paper.” But that “stack of paper” is the analog archive of my life experience in a very raw form.
I like to journal like I like to go bowling. I can have a couple of drinks and do something to the best of my ability in full enjoyment even if I suck at it. I feel fulfilled by slapdashedly swinging my dominate hand around without expectation of high results. It’s something to do that is totally dependent on my personal attitude at the time. I don’t fear judgement because most times I keep it to myself. If you want to bowl alone, go at 1:30 pm on a Tuesday. The only people in there are over 60 and there aren’t many of them. Most are there just for the bar. Every once and a while a bold elderly man may stop by and offer tips on your game.
It’s like this blog page. I have like eighty people who follow me. I get very little engagement and I am fine with that. Sometimes I just have to express myself out in the world. When I was younger I was under the impression that I didn’t actually have a voice in the world, or that no one cared what I had to say; now I think that just the right people stumble in at just the right time, not only for me, but for themselves. My delusions of grandeur have been over for quite some time now.
This digging and sorting is going to continue. It has to. Something about “getting your house in order” feels appropriate right now. May you find patience and forgiveness in yourself, and the strength to get your own house in order.
PS. The heading image was something my mom wrote on a piece of paper. I don’t have much of her writing, on the other side is a poem that many people find haunting. I am not sure if the cipher works for the poem, but if I feel like it, I might see if it does. If it does, that would be so cool. On my mom’s typed page it is titled “Love Poem” and instead of “he” it is “she.” Who knows? Everyone loves a mystery and the author is unknown.
I am writing this as a “Thank You” to all of you who have touched my life, or in return, have been touched by mine.
It is easy to get caught up in ourselves; our world is very ego centric. It is easy to take things and people for granted; to forget that we are all in a symbiotic relationship.
I want to spend this post, thanking those who have imparted some influence on my course in life… which is nothing at all like I thought it would be: once upon a time ago.
Many times, I have told myself, that “I feel too much.” And it is overwhelming. However, as an empath, I just feel all the time, on such an acute scale… it is hard to describe it in detail.
For me, it has come as depressions. Luckly, I know I am strong enough to ride the storm, but, admittidly, they are annoying. No one wants to be unhappy and stifled for weeks on end.
This letter of appreciation, is for all of you who have believed in me, and supported me through my doldrums. It is for those of you, who showed up to read a post, because you needed it in the moment.
My life has been one of servatude to humanity. My work, on such a small scale, is an act of prevention and inspiration.
I know that it is realistically insane to be happy or upbeat, all of the time. Not only that… but it is hard to do. I know that we are all sorts of sensative about things, people and situations, due to our past experiences. I know that certain things can act as triggers to deeper feelings, often catalyzed in an unintentional way. I know that sometimes a stranger says the perfect thing, at the perfect time.
I write for that part of a human. I write to that part of the human. I don’t reach millions of people per day… maybe five on a really productive day. I don’t do what I do for fame or following… I do it because I have been there. Once upon a time, I needed my own medicine and there was no one to administer the remedy. Mostly because I didn’t believe in myself.
I say THANK YOU, because I know whole heartidly that there is no way we would end up connected, if we didn’t have something to connect over.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for feeling and using resources to reach connection. Thank you.
Thank you for having the strength to try and figure yourself out and do better for yourself.
I am blessed to be reaching you, who are only miles or oceans away. I am blessed to have your input and opinion based off your own personal experience.
Thank you for showing up. Thank you for allowing me space to be vulnerable. I appreciate the ability to be heard by you; my wish, is to always leave something worth thinking about; in hopes that when we leave ourselves, we leave them better than when we found ourselves.
If there are topics you would like to discuss, please leave a comment, and I will work on that. I want to bring you content that inspires you to come back for more. I would love a deeper dialog on here, and it is YOU, I am talking to.