Ineffable Soul, You Were Born Divine

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You were born sacred. You were born a child of heaven, sculpted and set upon this land to live in grace and harmony. Your value has always been beyond calculation because you are more important to the Divine plan than anything, and that is because you are the Divine plan. No one like you has ever touched this earth before. You are unique and your energy signature changed the vibration of the planet the very first time you set your feet upon her soil. You can not be weighed or measured. You are ineffable, like your parent, you are here with a purpose that you may not ever know until you take your last breath. But don’t fear, wether you know your purpose or not you are living it. You are here and your presence is enough.

Society tells us to strive, to compete, to succeed where others have failed. To work our fingers to the bone, watch the bottom line and be the person who always shows up even when our family is in crisis and we’re so tired that just breathing feels hard. We put in a 110% in our careers but our relationships are expected to somehow manage themselves. We are too busy, too tired, too angry at a coworker to be civil to our partners, our children, our parents because we’ve fallen into this misconception that to be a success we have to bring home the money, create status, and walk out the door of our million dollar MacMansion with a fit fine partner who’s not an embarrassment. This part of living is societies wish for your, not God’s.

I just watched a truly primitive man speak on his belief that the value of a woman is centered solely on wether or not she had the capacity to maintain her hold on her high caliber man. He stated that a woman past forty was no longer a viable woman if she had lost her partner or had failed to ever find a high caliber man. A single woman of forty was a failure physically, socially, and economically because she had failed at her one duty, she had failed to achieve or maintain her hold on a, “King.” 

There’s not much to be said in response to this type of neolithic thinking. The knuckle dragger concept that a woman must have a man to be of value in her community is not new. It’s been around for a few thousand years. The sad truth is that a man without a woman is far more bereft of the pleasures and comforts of life than a single woman ever could be. The feminine makes the home comfortable, we add the warmth and the good scents, we bare the children who add life and joy to that home and we celebrate life, remember the holidays, the birthdays, the anniversaries, and we offer the pleasures of our bodies out of love. I’m frustrated by this idea that all a man needs to bring to the table is his paycheck while a woman must not only contribute financially but also domestically, and sensually in a way that will keep her, “King” happy and also faithful. 

I’m not addressing this piece to you enlightened men who are awake and engaged in life, who spend quality time with your children and still bother to make love to your wife wether she’s wearing makeup or not. I’m writing this because I’m hurting, have lost what looked like a high caliber male, and I’m almost forty-seven. So what part of me believes that I’m somehow to blame? Or that I wasn’t enough? Or that I somehow failed? Right now I think it is the part of me still clinging to my religious and social programing that says family is forever and a woman who’s been tossed out was no good to begin with. I prayed before I started writing this because I knew I would need strength to do this topic justice, and I don’t believe I have…yet.

So, what if I told you that the sacred feminine used to be worshiped, that to lay with a woman was a sacred privilege. That a man accepted by a woman counted himself lucky to be honored by the touch of her body. My God, look at a women. What about them isn’t sacred. Is there anything more beautiful in the world than a woman? If there is I haven’t seen it. I love femininity. I’m proud of being a woman and I love wearing dresses, putting on makeup and being beautiful. I love feminine men. I love the way they move, the way they dress, the way they care about their divine bodies as if at birth someone whispered, “you were sculpted by god and made glorious.” Maybe toxic masculinity is threatened by the Divine Feminine in women and men because in its toxicity it can’t feel its own divinity, its own grace. Maybe that’s why it rapes and kills what is beautiful at such a staggering rate.

There is so much glory in an awakened man, so much beauty and grace in his gentleness, in his love for his family and community. I have dreamt all my life of loving and being loved by a Divine Masculine, of hearing his voice and of speaking openly to him in the knowledge that I have been heard. I think when the toxic masculine talks about woman’s service to their, “King,” it is because owning a woman is the only way they understand love and throwing off a woman is easier than waking up, finding inner peace, divine stillness, and self-love, which is a thing that only a real man, a Divine Masculine, is capable of doing. 

I love love, I always have and I always will, but I will never again settle for being a man’s toy, not when I know that I can remain fully me, fully alive, fully autonomous and still bask in the love of a truly good and divinely awakened man.

So cheers to the Divine Masculine. You are out there and we need to hear from you more.

Are You Living or Just Passing Through

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This is a question I ask myself a lot. Am I living to my full potential right now or am I passing thorough life just waiting to punch out that last breath, that last thought, that last moment before I slip away. In reality, isn’t that what we are all doing when we spend hours swiping on social media or watching tv instead of playing with our children, working on personal goals, or engaging in a deep and meaningful way with our partner. Are we living or are we just passing through? More living can be done on a street corner shooting the shit with your best friends than will ever be accomplished in a cubicle. More living is accomplished in a kids play park than in a day care where someone else is watching your kid grow, and they do grow up, and they do go away.

I have spent most of my life watching life without really interacting with it. Life has always seemed frightening to me. My bat was never the biggest, my car was never the fastest, and I have always sure that there’s a tidal wave of danger around every corner. I preach a lot about not living in fear because I fight fear and surrender it to God every day of my life. I know that living in fear is not living at all. I know that living in fear keeps us captive, impoverished, and disconnected.

So what is it to live? I live when I walk my dogs or talk to my son. I live when I have coffee with my friends and laugh or cry with them. I’m not proud of my lack of living but I am proud of my attempts at healing, at trying to get into the game, of trying to be social and real and fully alive, fully human. Gone are the days when I would look at my therapist and ask, “Am I real? Am I really sitting here?” Those were my dissociative days, my ghost days, the days when I felt so outside of life that I couldn’t engage with the magic of the world because it was a thing on a screen painted in black and white with the sound turned so far down that it faded to nothing.

If you know how to live, do it. Get out of your rut and be real. Many of us need an example that’s not from a movie or a show. If you don’t need booze to mingle at a party you are the magic some of us are searching for. To be truly and fully alive is a gift that should not be squandered. Relish it when you find it, don’t take a picture, just feel it light up your soul and whisper, “Yes, this is what it feels like to live. Right now, in this moment, I am totally alive.”

Are We Evil or Just Mentally Ill

The photograph shows Hitler embracing Rosa Bernile Nienau, then about five or six, and is embellished with flowers which were placed by the young girl, Alexander Historical Auctions said.

Hitler and a Jewish Girl.

I’m going on a rant so hang in there or click out. I’m having this existential crisis as in, ‘why do I love bad people?’ Why do I see the light and soul in them even when they have told me to my face that they are not good for me. Why do I ignore red flags. Why do I keep best friends who belittle and abuse me. Why do I stay when I hurt and my life is so painful I want off world. Am I wrong to love “bad” people or am I loving the human beyond their obvious and sometimes painful trauma responses to life.

I don’t believe in the Devil but I do believe in mental illness. If there is evil on this planet it stems from the human consciousness or lack of consciousness we see daily in the news and in our society. The Devil didn’t make the Nazi, poverty, anger, despair, racism, and a need for revenge over the loss of world war one created the Nazi. The Devil didn’t create Jeffery Dahmer. Untreated childhood trauma created Jeffery Dahmer. Think of all the evil you have ever experienced, trace it back to its source and you will usually find a deeply painful traumatic origin story that leads to mass or individual mental illness. 

So, all those people in prison can’t be mentally ill right? Some of them are just evil right? Nope. They’re damaged, broken, traumatized and crammed into a system that will only injure them further. The rate of recidivism among inmates is so high because they generally come out of prison more damaged and mentally unstable than they were when they went in. The only evil under the sun is the human need to have power over another person, to create cast systems that makes one person lower then them, to hurt innocence, and destroy freedom because of an ingrained belief that if you are lower then me then I’m not at the bottom, you are. The only evil is us.

I grew up poor. My dad would walk through the house and laugh as he said, “We is Po Fuckers!” Yep! he was a racist immigrant who knew he didn’t have a pot to piss in and never would. He hated everyone who wasn’t white because that meant that his light skin made him better then the people he made fun of, the people I called friends and he called N*****s. When I told him my DNA proved we were gypsy and mostly North African and Middle Eastern he went silent. Who was beneath him now? His white brotherhood wasn’t his brotherhood anymore. He’s a Gypsy like me and the fear of being other must have hit him hard. 

Fear makes monsters of us. Fear yells in our head that if we don’t ace the next test or get into the good school we’ll be like them, the poor trash, the prison bound, the under dogs that don’t fight their way to the top but just get run over. I was born poor trash living in domestic violence and even when I thought I had fought my way out I realized I hadn’t. My thoughts about myself screamed in my father’s voice,” You is a Po Fucker and you won’t be nothing.” I was baptized in poverty consciousness, a mental illness that constantly reminds you that your next meal is not guaranteed, and your roof is only your roof as long as you can afford to pay the MAN to keep it. 

So how do we heal America? How do we end the mad dog savagery that is us. And please don’t think that just because you drive a Benz, live in the perfect community, and attend church regularly you aren’t just as big a lunatic as the rest of us. So again, how do we conquer fear and really turn this sinking ship toward shore? Well I’m just crazy enough to tell you. 

  1. There is no evil, there’s just you. 
  2. Fear is driving the crazy bus so if you want to get off you have to find faith in your own instinctual goodness. A person who does not fear can not be controlled. 
  3. You have to start loving yourself. A person who loves themselves can not stand on anyone else’s neck to get a better view because a person with a direct connection to self love honers and loves the Devine in everyone they meet.

Love yourself. You were divinely made. Turn off the news. Step out of the matrix. Fear nothing but your own need to control. Mental illness doesn’t have to be our final destination. We weren’t born to struggle.

Self Soothing Through a Trigger

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Reacting to a trigger can lead to trouble. If you react in rage you could end up in a fight. If you react with flight you could end up somewhere worse, slip into depression, or a narcissist’s control. Freeze up and you are again poised to become a victim. Turn into the fawning people pleaser and you are everyone’s doormat. First, let’s recap. Trauma responses come in four types that we know of, Fight, Flight, Freeze, Fawn. I’m a freeze fawn meaning if I can’t make you happy with my massive people pleasing abilities I will freeze up and not be able to protect myself if you decide to hurt me. How helpful is being a freeze fawn? Not helpful at all. So how do we stop these reactions?

First you have to notice that you are triggered. If you can get to a quiet safe space this is the time. Then you have to identify what has triggered you. Look at the last five minutes. Was the trigger activated by a scent, a color, a voice, a touch, a noise, a taste, a memory, or a though? When you’ve identified the trigger look at the thoughts that surround it. What are your thoughts telling you? Now listen to your body. What is your body telling you? Now comfort your body and talk quietly to yourself in a soothing voice. Comfort yourself as you would a small child. Take deep belly breaths and keep looking around to remind yourself that the trigger you feared is not here. Remind yourself that it’s a past event that is influencing the moment. You are safe now. Tell yourself that you are safe. (Now if you actually just saw your violent ex, hightail it to an exit. Do not stay were an abuser is. Even if they can’t hurt you now, their presence is detrimental to your nervous system and you need to get to a safe place.)

Here is an old example of me reacting to a trigger in the mall. I smell my mom’s perfume. I feel afraid and my legs are’t working right. I look around for her. I walk to a discrete location where I feel hidden. I straighten my clothes, and glance in a mirror while my inner voice says, ‘You really need to loose another forty pounds. She’s not going to recognize you now that you look so old. She always wanted to botox your forehead, even when you were a child. Your worry lines are out of control. Why can’t you just relax. Why are you so emotional. Stop being sensitive. Ok, you look crazy standing behind this sign thinking about dieting and wrinkles. Just buy something so the clerk will stop staring. Why the hell are you so weird? Just shut the fuck up and pull yourself together you dumb bitch.’ Often our inner voice yells at us using our abuser’s voice.

This is me after learning self compassion from Dr. Kristen Neff’s, Self Compassion Workbook. I smell my mother’s perfume, I keep walking and focus on my breathing. I practice common humanity by reminding myself that lots of people wear that perfume. I sit on a bench and scan my body, allowing my eyes to search the mall while I continually remind myself that I’m safe. I realize that my stomach is in knots so I wrap my arms around my stomach and focus on taking deep belly breaths while I repeat under my breath, ‘you’re safe, you’re loved, I’ve got you, God is with us, no one will hurt you.’ When my stomach relaxes enough I place my hand on it and gently rub the area until the muscles relax. I continue focusing on my breath until I’m able to get up and finish my shopping. If the trigger is big enough I might be too tired to keep shopping. Then I tell myself, ‘It’s ok, you have a right to rest. That was scary. I love you.’ No one needs to hear you talk to yourself. You can do it all in your mind. Just being present with yourself will help your nervous system calm down enough to begin recovery.

Listen to who’s talking in your head. When a voice isn’t yours it’s probably someone who hurt you. Your loving inner voice will sound like you. You can trust it. Get a qualified trauma therapist if you have been diagnosed with CPTSD. You are not alone in this. Many of us are struggling in silence.

I love you. You can live fully in the love you deserve. Your inner voice has the capacity to be kind.

I Haven’t Forgiven You, I’ve Just Moved On.

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Buddha said, “Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”

Anger only holds you captive when you stay in the story with it. Anger only has you by the throat for as long as you keep replaying the record of WHY! I call my recollections of all my past antipathies the memory loop. When I’m caught in the memory loop I am six years old again being told it’s safe to tell my dad what we got him for Christmas unaware that my mother is listening and I’m about to get one hell of a beating. The memory loop reminds me of how my father just sat there as my mother hauled me into the air by one arm and began her savagery. 

The memory loop creates hell on earth. It’s insane and it wants you for company. It will take you into every memory of your life where you are either victim or villain and it will make you relive each scene, moment by moment, until your body is tense, your stomach hurts, and you’ve stopped breathing comfortably because your chest is too tight. The memory loop is working overtime to remind you that life isn’t safe, that you can’t trust, that nothing is fare, and that you are always in danger. Stepping out of the memory loop is hard, it takes constant awareness and time.

I have written before about living in the traveling now. There’s a blog by that name on this site if you’re interested. What living in the now does is it takes you out of the memory loop and brings you into this moment and it’s only in this moment that you are alive and capable of really living. The past is dead, the future does not exist, but right now you are alive, passionate, grateful, breathing, feeling, and real.

There are a hundred people I have tried to forgive. I have sat through classes and seminars on the power of forgiveness and they all say that forgiveness isn’t for the person who hurt you it’s for you and you alone. I agree with that and I find that forgiveness comes and goes with mood, threat load, and exhaustion. I have also read Pete Walker’s book, CPTSD, From Surviving to Thriving, where he talks about crying it out of your body with the deep shaking sobs that release trapped emotion. This is also important. 

What I like best is just being present. When I can stay in the traveling now in love with my life and with myself then the cruelty of my past remains forgiven, healed and locked in the past while I remain where I am right now. I will not be defined by my trauma. I define my life, I live my life, my life does not live me. 

I have done the work. I have cried, prayed, forgiven, surrendered, and let go. I have walked a thousand meditative miles and sat in silence listening to myself breath while my mind healed and I became less attached to the constant screaming of the memory loop. I have freed myself and the last phase of remaining free is remaining present here and now. Give yourself the gift of the now. However healing comes to you, embrace it and enter the now. You can only forgive so many times before it’s time to move on and get down to the joyful business of living.

We were molded in fire but now it’s time to take form.

People Who Need People

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Yep, I’m one of those. I need constant interaction, open and free communication, lots of non sexual touch like hugs and cuddles and squashing up on the couch. I’m communal by nature and I’m a person who needs people. I have however, lived alone my entire life. Not true, I had my son who was like a cool little buddy but he’s flown the nest and so I am alone. I can tell which days a friend has called by what time I climb into bed with TickTock. Yesterday I had a long chat with a friend, felt amazing. Studied algebra, wrote a blog, worked out like a pro-wrestler, bought groceries, did laundry, cleaned my apartment and felt like a genuine supper star. I didn’t go to bed until nine and I slept all night. 

Today I have texted friends but heard nothing back. I worked out, walked in the rain, had a hot lunch, learned more about algebra and I’m here with you now writing this blog feeling somehow empty and sad because as empty as a phone call sometimes feels it is a whole lot better then brain devouring silence. 

People are by nature communal. We need to be in constant contact with one another, working together, raising our kids together, eating together, sleeping together. We’re not meant to be isolated and alone. That’s why I’m so agains the Ferber Method of disciplining babies into silence by ignoring their cries to be touched and held and instead leaving them to ‘cry it out’ until they finally learn that their voices mean nothing, that they mean nothing, that mother isn’t to be trusted, and that life is about loneliness and fear. The Ferber Method is the first trauma many of us experience. It creates neurotics and sociopaths. It is bad for humans and it needs to be stopped.

The second thing I’m really against is the nuclear family. The isolation of one couple locked in a three bedroom home with 2.5 kids leads to isolation, disconnection from the community, depression especially in neighborhoods that continually compete from house to house and general household dysfunction. We need to live in community not in isolation. And guess what? Your coworkers are not your friends. They are just other people hired at the same place who are trying to make a living. So who is your community? Who is the grandmother figure your  kids can walk to when they have stuff they need to discuss that they don’t want to bother you with. It’s a proven fact that kids grow up better adjusted if they have trusted elders in their lives to talk and share with. 

The last thing I want to be clear about is that I’m also against solitary confinement. When I was a kid it was a thing to lock a kid in a closet until they went quiet. As an adult I’ve seen rooms in neighbors homes labeled, ‘the crying room.’ You can guess what goes on in there and it ain’t snuggles. Solitary confinement on all levels and at every age leads to mental illness. It takes basically normal minds and breaks them down until the individual neither trusts others, the world, or themselves. 

Loneliness isn’t a joke. People need people. Babies need to know that their voices matter and that if they cry, you will come and pick them up. Your neighbors can be your friends, not your competition and the nuclear family is a really sick alternative to living in a thriving village style community with cousins and grandparents nearby. We are all meant to run free and we’re meant to run free together and not be isolated, locked up, and made to feel invisible.

I see you and I hear you. Covid has had an eerie affect on our socialization and some of us are not ok. Reach out to as many friends and loved ones as you can in a day. It’s so important that everyone knows they are remembered and loved.  

Who Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up?

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It’s that hateful question every child is asked by some grinning old person who means well but has no real idea of the strain they are placing on a young mind. What do you want to be is basically who do you want to be crammed into one sentence that most of us won’t even answer in a life time. We will do many things, be many things, our personalities will shift with our mood like desert sands and we will be and do more and less than we ever knew we could. 

I remember my son’s kindergarten graduation. He was told to decide what he wanted to be when he grew up and this one question put him into such a tailspin of existential dread that he actually became depressed. How could he even hope to know? He was five. We talked about all the lives one person could live in one lifetime and how it was common to change jobs and careers many times as the years passed. In the end he decided he would tell his teacher he wanted to be a stay at home dad and I applauded his decision to think outside the box while coming up with an answer for his kindergarten graduation.

My son is a really good person with a really good heart and he has broken out of every box he has ever been faced with. I don’t think there is a box that can hold him. He’s been thinking outside the box for so long that he’s free in a way few of us will be. That’s why I was confused when he got up on stage after the last twenty five kids had declared their intention of becoming a veterinarian all because the kid before them said that, and stated in a loud voice that when he grew up he wanted to be an underwater treasure hunter. I had never heard that from him. Water had always frightened him and money has never meant a thing. He’s not one of those kids that will read a book for five dollars or clean his room for ten so why the change?

The answer of course is adults. He denied ever saying he wanted to be a stay at home dad, that he’d mentioned it at home but not at school. He’d chosen the safe bet, the manly bet, and the principle came up to me afterwards beaming because he was the only kindergartner who had stuck to his career goal. No he was not a sheep who blurted veterinarian, but he had not been honest, not been himself.

It’s funny how much this little moment has bothered me. It was 13 years ago and yet I still struggle with what happened to his inner authenticity. Had he told them he wanted to be a stay at home dad? And had they reacted the same way they had when he took off his shoes and showed off his blue nail polish? He was five. I had been painting my nails and looked up to see him painting his. I smiled and said, “Nice.” The teacher asked me, “Did you do that? Did you paint his nails?” No I hadn’t, he had, and everyone but me was weirdly upset.

I hate how we treat boys. Honestly I hate how we treat girls too. Society sucks and its patriarchal indoctrination is dehumanizing for both the sexes. We lost two boys in junior high because they didn’t fit into the roles society set for them. They died because of roles. I don’t think a week goes by when I don’t remember their faces. I guess what I want to say here is please don’t ever ask a kid, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Instead maybe ask, “What is the thing that makes you most excited in life?” For my son that was theater and I pray it still is. For my friends daughter, that’s making TickTock dance videos. There are a thousand ways to live on this earth and there are no roles that need to be filled. A boy can be a stay at home dad, a girl can be a detective, I can be a unicorn and hide in my micro studio reaching out to people through WordPress. Be weird, be wild, be tame, be a fruit bat. None of it matters as long as deep down that being is what makes you sparkle.

It’s OK to paint your nails boys. Ladies, shaved heads are sexy. God, please forgive role enforcers who tell children it’s not OK to be who they are. And God forgive the person who told my two friends that Gay wasn’t okay. It was, it is, it always will be. I wished they had lived to see how much the world has changed.

I love you. I’m crying again. We’ve got this. Soldier on my compatriots and do it with sequins.

Gratitude, the Opposite of Resentment, is a Nicer Way to Live

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Happy Thanksgiving. It’s polite to say that even if you don’t mean it. I don’t like Thanksgiving but that’s my problem and just a small part of why I’m not the easiest person in the world to live with. I have opinions and ideas and grudges and resentment and I suck at playing happy, especially on holidays that have lost the spirit of what made them holidays to begin with.

I’m not going to harp on the realities of the first Thanksgiving or how it could have been beautiful and memorable in and of itself, if the colonist had only NOT turned around and killed the Native Americans, who had shared their food stores, in the months that followed. Colonization is a nasty business and much talked about these days, thankfully.

What I am going to talk about is resentment and gratitude and how they can’t exist in the same mind. The be gratefully resentful would be to experience cognitive dissonance. Two competing realities existing in one mind is crazy making in the extreme. I loved my family and I resented the domestic dis-ease that came with the holidays. My mother hated the holidays and made certain that they were miserable for all of us. In the end my sibling and I started doing the cooking and buying mom booze well before we were of age just to get her through the day. Drunk mom was fun mom and we’d take her when we could get her.

I resented the work and the memories that went into making my own family feast because my mind was locked in the past. I missed my grandmother and my grandfather and the grief of the loss of people I loved broke me. After many years my husband took over the cooking and I am grateful to him for that. I have been in cognitive dissonance about most of my life, feeling both grateful and resentful to be alive. I once spent an entire winter flipping the sky off just to let God know how much I resented him for dragging me here.

Now that I’m single and alone I still hate Thanksgiving for the thing it has become but sitting here now over my gyro dinner with baklava and Dr. Pepper I feel less alone. Beside me sits a lit candle, behind that stands red roses for my Gypsy ancestors surrounded by dancing bracelets, and a medallion of the Madonna of Chartres. The moment I prayed and offered this day to my ancestors in gratitude and thanks was the moment I felt God’s peace settle over me like a warm blanket. I have been resentful but I am now grateful. I have been difficult but, in this moment, right now I’m peaceful. I can’t tell you how long these better aspects of me will last, all I do know is that in feeling them I feel God and find rest.

Enjoy your day. Value your family. If your family sucks start a Friendsgiving for all your lonely people. Notice your resentments and study their cause. It’s nice to fix things before they become a habit. Practice everyday gratitude. Past your resentments there are things you are grateful for.

I love you. You are the reason your ancestors worked so hard to survive. We are all family. Bless the hands that prepared your meal. Cook love into your food and if you can’t, order Pizza.  

God in a Nutshell…As If!

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I talk a lot about God here. I talk about God because I am a drowning woman holding onto the only hand that has ever reached down and pulled me up. I talk about God because God sent me angels in a home where I was beaten, in a home where I was traumatized, in a home where I was only worth my silence and my servitude.

My first angel wore a blue polka dot dress and a smile that filled me with God light. I was too small to walk so I would crawl up that long flight of hardwood stairs and knock on the upstairs apartment door. One knock and she was there, her elderly face glowing with light, her 50’s era clothes and hair rocking along with her bright red lipstick. I called her Grandma, and she called me hers, raining down such love like I’d never known in human form. And when my mama called and I turned my head to listen, the door would close and Grandma would slip away. I was seven when I understood no one lived in the upstairs apartment when I was small.

I held onto Grandma’s sunshine, her strength, her understanding, her ability to pour love into me. Her residual love kept me going, its purity, its brightness filling my heart when nothing else did. She was my first angel but not my last. God sent me more angels though I didn’t know them as anything but good humans in later years.

God is to the drowning what freedom is to the prisoner, what healing is to the broken, what home is to the destitute. God has no religion but billions of children each precious and loved and held though few are awake enough to feel the support that is all around them. I have needed God all my life. There’s not a day goes by when I don’t ask God to take me home, to set me free, to hold me close so I can remember what it is to rest again in absolute love. But I must wait, am told to be strong, am told that I have a purpose, that I chose this life. So, I listen and work and pray that each day will be a day I can bare.

When I was six, I asked my mother what suicide was. She told me. I asked her, “why doesn’t everyone do it?” I wasn’t born broken but I was born remembering happiness, unconditional love, joy beyond words, and the weightless bliss of belonging. None of those feelings have happened here so I must wait out this life and live it with disciplined purpose and grace for now.

I talk a lot about God because to exclude the one who made all things would be to break the covenant that keeps me in my body. I am here because I and God agreed that there was work to be done. I am still here because I and God love the earth. I am still here because, in some way, I know that my presence on this earth is important. And so is yours my brother, my sister. We live in an incredible time of change where so much is possible.

So, I ask you not for the last time to dig deep, love unconditionally, pray for guidance, listen in your stillness to the whispers of your heart, and come to know the I AM presence that loves you so much it will never let you fail. You are held. You are loved. You have purpose even if you don’t see it. You are love poured into form.

I love you. God loves you. All is as it should be no matter how much it hurts. For some insane reason we’ve got this.

Panpsychism

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Does your floor think? Does it feel you enter and leave? Is it aware of the temperature of your body, the state of your mood? Can it tell by your steps if you are tired, sad, happy, or energetic? Panpsychism is the idea that everything has a mind or conscious awareness. The sixteenth century philosopher Francesco Patrizi, created the term which is Greek for all mind.

You’re walking on the beach. Your feet are bare and white sand is pushing up between your toes, making that delightful squishy, resistant yet non-resistant, feeling under your feet. As you watch the sun drop towards the horizon you are filled with awe at the beauty of the moment. The sand, the waves washing against the shore, the sun touching your skin while shifting the landscape from daylight to twilight and into darkness. It all feels so alive. But is it? Panpsychism says it is.

Take one grain of sand, it holds 7 sextillion atoms in its one tiny solitary self. Throw it back onto the beach and its 7 sextillion joins a field of atoms so infinite it makes counting stars seem easy. Is the grain of sand conscious? Does it feel your foot? Does it read your intentions in the way you walk?

An atom stores energy in its electron orbital motion. This means that the sand particle you held for one moment, with its 7 sextillion atoms, each atom holding .16 billionth of a joule of energy, is in its own right a tiny powerhouse of orbiting energy creating its own magnetic field. Thrown back onto the beach it becomes one part of a massive electromagnetic structure. So now we ask, is the electromagnetic field conscious?

Professor Johnjoe McFadden, of the University of Surry, published his theory in Oxfords distinguished journal, Neuroscience of Consciousness, where he posits that electromagnetic energy in the brain enables brain matter to create our consciousness and our ability to be aware and think.

So, if the beach has its own electromagnetic field, is it aware of the waves and of the sunset? Does your home know when you enter it and when you leave based on its own electromagnetic field? And does McFadden’s theory that the electromagnetic field around your brain actually creates your consciousness also support the idea of Panpsychism or all mind? No one really knows. It’s all theory but its freaking cool to think about.

As a spiritual person I’m in love with neuropsychology, physics, and metaphysics. I love the idea that everything is conscious and alive. Though Science may have thrown out the concept of dualism, the idea that human consciousness comes from the soul, I can’t help feeling that I am not my body. I am me, a spiritual being having a human experience in a meat-suit that, like my car, gets me from place to place. I know I have an energy field and that it interacts with other living thing’s energy fields. If they want to say it’s electromagnetic that makes perfect sense. I like Panpsychism like I like Pantheism. Maybe it’s just the All in the word Pan that I like. All life, all one, all us, all God.

We are all here traversing this funny world together and our brains have a magnetic field detected by EEGs! Today, I’m giving this world five wows and ten awes because it’s seriously cool.

I love you. You have an electromagnetic field around your brain!!! WOW and AWE! Good job everyone. You’re all miraculous.