It’s been a Hot minute since I updated my blog. I felt inspired to share and then cocooned myself, fell down some rabbit holes, climbed back out, space travelled and crash landed back to earth — flat on my face. Seriously though, I genuinely thought the whole aliens and UFO situation was the peak of what was happening in my temporary existence here on Plano de la tierra. How historic the world is now. Reimagining our future, unearthing our lost history. The systems are crashing, timelines collapsing, portals opening, old structures collapsing, paradigms rebuilding, and a lot ,yes a lot is going on.
My stream of consciousness flows effortlessly from my iPad. This is probably the equivalent to the morning pages suggested in The Artists Way by Julia Cameron — words that are to be expressed and shared solely for the purpose of remaining imbedded and wedged between the chunky, fat paper lines of a notebook slung across my table or squished in a box under a mountain of books and my minimalistic objects of affection. See, I’ve moved house more times than you’ve probably had hot dinners, and I’m here to talk about it. Share the shit. Tell the tales. Relive the past and history of losses and gains, ups and downs, ah-ha’s and oh no’s.
Let me start by saying I am not a writer. I feel uncomfortable expressing Myself with words to be read. My thoughts are like trains with no breaks constantly switching tracks, unimpressed by the lack of charisma, energy and hand movements I can so easily blurt and barrage people with while in their presence. I’m a talker, not a writer. I have no clue where the comma goes. I have fear too. Big fat fears of being judged. Of not sounding smart enough or the self imposed expectation to express myself as beautifully and precise as my life unfurls, is hard on me. Editing, drafting, rewrites — ugh, why? Speaking is in the moment, like a play, a dance of energy and words that dissolve into the night. The written word Is powerful, like a spell, and so very concrete and in tact, glued to the page unless it’s “cute but might delete later” kind of thing. I fall in love so easily with words and yet feel so incapable of being true to myself and expression. My poet and writer friends effortlessly frisbee out their thoughts so eloquently into the world. I overthink most things too and I’m likely to go off topic. But I have drive, passion and stories to tell.
I’m here to say that I want to share stories. Spirituality has been the center of my universe for almost a decade or more now. I can hardly remember my childhood, can you? But I remember who I was in flashes of images and memories; my essence, my presence, my innocence and confidence. I was a bright, enthusiastic, placid young girl. My character has remained intact although life and our lessons harden us, break the spirit. My light seems to have dulled the past two years. Never mind childhood, who I was in my early teens was my favourite me, and then I went through a spiritual awakening in my twenties which was intense, overwhelming, fascinating, enlightening, breath-taking, wonderfully poetic and brilliant, and horribly confusing and mind bendingly Real. Seriously, what the fuck just happened!?
Regrets I have a few which is why I was too embarrassed to share what had happened. I was in a personal state of mourning and displacement. I accept I have regrets because in saying I have none undermines the loss I felt, the grief I cradled back to growth and the insanity of where my mind dwelled. I need to share these regrets and stories of hope because the light complements the dark and it feels like they might actually be worth putting out there. Isn’t that what we do now? Isn’t that how we learn and feel connected; through stories and lived experience. It’s how I have found my way and I feel it is a moral imperative to contribute my heart and soul to the world for even one person who might benefit from it. Maybe that’s you!
Shakespeare said life is a stage and mine is a Punk rock broadway musical.
There’s a lot going on out there, in here, around and about this world. Everyone I seem to meet is talking about consciousness, compassion, radical thinking and a new world. Each person is a ripple in the ocean and some people Are creating waves. So here is my little stone in the pond. The first toe in the water as an attempt to honour and share my life perspective.
Pandora’s box is wide open.
So it begs the question. What are you into? How open minded and curious Are you about things like past lives and spiritual Experiences. I dig the subconscious and explore human behaviour, life lessons, tales of wonder, heartbreak and hardships of humanity? Do you like yoga and Meditation, art, poetry and not giving a fuck? How about stoner rock and electric guitars, jingles and books, good food, deep connections and, well, almost everything, because curiosity is a way of life! Whoever you are and for whatever reason you are here, we were meant to meet like this, you were supposed to hear these stories and you are amazing because you actually read this blurb. I’m excited. I just hope I don’t flake trying to muster up the words in whatever shape or form they take to be expressed. Maybe I’m just writing to myself. Letters to myself. As a keep sake. A place to lay my memories.
I accept I’m uncertain and I definitely accept this is not defining what has happened. What has happened and what I want to share will always be the diamond I hold fast to my heart. I am thankful. I am grateful for everything and now I am going to do my best to take the first step.
so, how hard can it be? lets see where this goes. . . If it goes, but the hardest question is
……
where do I even begin?
There are said to be 500-700 UFO sightings every months in the United States. Say whaaaaaaaaat? This is outrageous, I know, but utterly incredulous and mind.blowing if it is all R-E-A-L. I am revered, humbled and grateful yet oddly terrified to feel part of these other worldly phenomenon. I can almost taste the beams of teleportation!
TalkingTrees 