Just when I get accustomed to the harmony and flow of life, a curve ball smashes a dent in my figurative skull.  Several.  Big ones.  Fast balls, see.

Last week, Orion, Hijo and I jetted off to LA for a mixed-bag adventure.  On the menu, in a primary sense, was a visit with Zen, Orion’s younger brother – the one written about lovingly here, in reference to his battle with lymphoma. We stayed at his cute 50′s style cabana in Reseda, and it was my first in-person meeting with Zen and his really lovely wife.  Out of the gate, I loved them both, energetically and in that what-a-cool-human sense.  But because Zen is deep in the thick of his battle with cancer, there is such complexity brewing – every word, every emotion feels loaded and fragile.  It was, admittedly, hard to talk to him.  My issue – I wanted so much to wave a magic wand and feel his soul melt into life and his being feel light and happy again, instead of toxic and doomed.  I had hoped to come in with some tools of assistance, but I felt an immediate barrier.  Even still, the first night went really well.  I gave Zen several gifts – one a juiced-up power object (tourmaline, the shaman’s stone) that has been sacred to me for some time now.  Our dialogue was open and deep, and I felt so honored to have this immediate connection.  But by the next morning, that dissipated.  The reasons, in a relative sense, were twofold – 1) Zen was feeling like poo that morning, and ended up back at the hospital for most of the following day, and 2), Orion woke up in a seriously foul mood, which I then in turn allowed to sink me into a tough space as well.  That would be the theme of the trip – Orion and I were nasty to each other at times, uncharacteristically so, and it kept throwing me for loop after loop after loop.  Tears were shed one morning in the yard as we dissected these blow ups.  I felt unheard, way too vulnerable, and fed up with the self-imposed lockdown on speaking my truth about our interactions.  All gifts, but shit if that wasn’t a powder keg of a scenario.  Looming around a beautiful soul who is facing his own mortality has a natural effect of asking me to do the same.  I reveled in the lack of separateness – because while the ego really wanted to look with sympathy on Zen for his really challenging predicament, the truth is his story is my story, and I could not diminish our shared experience.  I looked it him and felt what it was like to think you’re dying of cancer.  I looked at him and wanted so badly to help him change his story, in part because I felt it as my own.  But then the higher self would chime in, remind me of the perfection of his dance, how it is his path to awakening, if he chooses it, and the sympathy dissolved into the only thing that remained – unconditional love.

Even with this knowingness, I kept my distance from Zen the rest of the trip.  My head surmised that was his wish, but in the nothing outside of self exists realm that I abide by, it was clearly my own.  I’m still often not willing to call out the elephant in the room, and to really stare down the Very Big Topics.  But I trust that it just wasn’t my place to intervene at this time.  My desire to do so was simply egoic.  I looked in Zen’s eyes and felt the barrier.  A wall we both constructed.  And I knew it wasn’t appropriate to try and blaze on through.  So I watched from a distance, sometimes in tears, but always with my heart.

And in the meantime, during all this interplay, the snaps between Orion and myself were coming in spades.  My head spun from the frequency and depth, and I wound up unraveling.  Seemingly confused by the negative interchanges.  By our very keen inability to communicate clearly.  I tried to let it break my heart, but I kept getting self conscious about the surroundings – not my home, not my place to let it rip, in the presence of people facing huge life challenges.  Who am I to come unglued because of spats with my partner?

We made our way home, and while things were peaceful on the surface, I was seething inside.  Angry at myself for what was transpiring, and trying desperately not to project all this on Orion.  By the time we were back in Vegas, it would seem the worst was over.  But then a blowup came worse than all the rest of the week’s crisscrosses combined – mainly because I finally stepped up and spoke my peace, in a very non-peaceful way.  I saw the charge rise up again in Orion, and had reached my capacity to try and process without kicking and screaming.  I brought out the expletives and just unleashed.  Not surprisingly, he didn’t take my projections well – and basically sent me away.  Reached his capacity as well.  So I did something I’ve never done before in our relationship – I left home, and checked into a hotel.  I didn’t actually think I’d sleep there that evening, but the just in case thoughts prevailed, and all I really wanted was a safe haven to decompress inside.  I had previously made my way to my old home, which is now inhabited by a super amazing friend and her equally amazing husband.  I wasn’t sure if they had moved in yet, so I made my way to what I had hoped would be a private haven – then I saw their furnishings inside, and my heart just collapsed.  This was the house I had bought – my first home purchase – thinking maybe I’d live there forever.  Or at least a really long time.  Now it was almost in foreclosure, claimed again by someone new.  And this homeless girl allowed those emotions to just. . .rise to the surface.  So after a good hour spent meditating in a nearby park, I checked in to a local hotel and pondered what might be next.

Orion and I ended up reconciling via phone shortly thereafter, and I made my way back to the new home which didn’t yet feel like home.  As we discussed what had transpired, I suddenly heard myself speaking words I had silenced for sometime.  They centered around my communication challenges with him, felt primarily whenever I hit that fragile emotional place.  The truth is, the deeper I hurt, the more I feel rejected by the one I love (and, in turn, by my own self).  When I’m clear, I know that Orion’s intent in those times is to fight back against my ego, to not let her run the show, and to not become condescending to the part of me that wants to believe this world is real.  I get that he has the highest intentions.  But none of me feels loved during this part of our dance, and it just came to a head in this particular conversation.  I still don’t know what it all means.  I heard myself tell him how devastating it is to feel danger when all I crave is love and warmth.  At the same time, I’m grateful for the really harsh way he treats me in those moments, because it forces to get me clear on what’s really going on, and look inside for unconditional love, not out.  So I’m not sure which part of me is really asking for him to be gentle with me.  And I’m not sure it’s a sincere request.  All I knew in that moment was – I have to tell him.  I have to tell him how much it hurts me to see his anger, his robotic, cold cold reflection, when I’m in my deepest breakdowns.

Then came today’s Sangha – our weekly Sunday meetings with our Enlightened Master, Mac.  Conversations always swarm around the absolute – about the true nature of reality.  Today was a special day – sparsely populated, very direct, very focused.  Orion is off flying to Shanghai, so I was the sole host.  One participant, the Poet – named as such because *everything* he speaks is poetry – talked about the Buddhist notion of “entering the stream”.  This is an act done by the individual who is willing to let down self – to enter the stream and be in the flow of life, not a driver.  No identity at all.  It isn’t enlightenment per say, but it is a stripping down – a willingness to be without ego.  A proverbial gesture of nakedness and vulnerability.  I buzzed as he relayed the notion, and willingly reentered the stream.

This day was magical.  As the Sangha ticked on, all but three of us left.  Guru Mac, Fire-Friend, and myself.  Mac even gave me a foot rub today, as we went deep into the nature of emotions.  I can’t even process how honored I feel to have had this experience.  And through the interchange today. . .I am just now realizing. . .I got my answer.

Mac helped me categorize emotions in a sense – to understand that they spring forth from one of four scenarios.

1) Phobias – the stories our minds create around fears (example – I’m afraid of cockroaches and totally freak out when one is near)

2) Psychosis – illogical, emotional responses to things that don’t even exist (example – My life is a mess because my fear of cockroaches permeates my every day experience)

3) Neurosis – the externalization of illogical fears (exampled – I won’t go in that house because it might have a cockroach)

4) Real (in the relative sense) – emotions that spring up because of actual life events

The first three are tricks – tactics the mind employs to maintain control, and to keep a grip on the perceived sense of reality.  The last one is the only logical place to let emotions run free.  If your dad dies, let your heart break.  If life is throwing you curve balls, let your emotional self feel whatever he / she needs to feel.  But if your mind is creating emotions that do not reflect what you know to be true in your circumstances, do not be fooled.

So I bring this back to my week with Orion.  I think in part our conflicts came from our inability to talk about what was really bothering us.  We projected on each other, rather than talk about the heart of the matter.  And my conversation with him regarding my apparent “needs” shows me the places in which I am not “in the stream”.  I basically voiced to Orion that his way of being didn’t fit my script.  I still say there’s real validity in needing to be treated with kid’s gloves on occasion, but *only* when than emotional need arises from real circumstances, not those created by my mind.

To put this in tangible terms:

What feels right, in the highest sense, is to feel safe and loved and nurtured when the shit hits the fan.  If my brother is dying of lymphoma, if the whole fucking world is imploding, than yes, please, show me some mercy until the floods subside.  But if I’m acting out from any of those phobic/psychotic/neurotic spaces, do not play my game.

It seems futile to dissect the past and analyze when Orion showed me that harshness and when he didn’t – I’m simply grateful for the clarity of where I stand emotionally.  This is all centered in self-integrity.  If I keep that in check at all times, then some part of me will know when the mind is playing an emotional game.  In those moments, if Orion reacts with toxic glances and out-lashes, it shouldn’t matter – nothing is as it seems at those times, and it would just be the ego who wanted to be protected.  That’s the rub, of course, because when I fall into the illusion, I do so because of my ego.  She’s extraordinarily crafty, and she wants to be validated – and is bloody sick of my “you are not real” light of truth.  But I feel like this is another big light in the realm of self-discovery – to insist that I be aware of the source of emotions.  I trust that what transpires between my partner and I will follow suit, and will reflect back exactly what I need.

A big blog post for a very big week.  Facing mortality, blowups with loved ones, footrubs from a guru.  That this is my life makes me eternally grateful.

“Waiting on Sunday to drown. . .”

(Tori Amos)

Back on the eve of Christmas Eve, I found a rare quiet, completely solo night to myself, and felt it right to go deep with the plants again.  My previous Huachuma ceremony was my only to-date solo excursion with Grandfather Wisdom / San Pedro, and I felt like I learned volumes about the energies, especially when it came to me as conductor.  I was ready for round 2.

As always, I set intentions and created a sacred space for going in.  I felt it wise to keep intentions simple and direct this time, and asked the spirits to just show me truth – whatever that might be mean.  I had hit a big wall mentally as of late, and was bloody sick of my mind’s insistence that *she* knew the truth.  I wanted to consult with a higher source.  With that, I gulped down the vile concoction, lit my candles, laid out the mesa (display of sacred items that are used as powerful portals in-ceremony) and hunkered down for the reveal.

Right away, my head kicked into turbo mode.  She had a lot of input on this whole truth matter.  And all of it, out of the gate, was pretty freaking negative and constrictive.  She started making a laundry lists of all my blocks – the reasons I could not yet own the truth, and why it was only a dialogue in my head.  Observer-me disagreed.  We countered with a readiness, an openness, an insistence that no, higher self is ready to show herself.

Mind was having none of that.  She showed her muscle in full effect.

I kept trying to surpass the mind chatter, to dive deeper into the present moment.  But all my mind wanted to do was jerk me into the past or the future.  I curled up by the fireplace, eyes closed and contemplative, but internally, a bloody war bubbled up. Here was some sample chatter:

“The problem is you’re too damn lazy to advance past where you’re at, you hardly ever workout or meditate and besides that those things don’t work, it’s just banter from wanna-bes that masquerade as gurus, and you know better but even still you couldn’t be a guru, it’s not your time, there’s karma to pay for and the like, and you don’t even believe in karma, so good luck with that, because sheesh we are such posers, such a fake little role-player, even when you think you’re being real it’s just a game just a game just a game.”

To which another I within would respond “That’s not true!  SHOW ME TRUTH!”

We played this game for eons.  A few hours or more.  I had some poignant moments at the altar / mesa, but I started really illuminating the hamster in the wheel, spinning along in my humdrum head, trying to keep me from being present.  I felt that anchoring myself deep into the present moment would take me right into the heart of Huachuma’s power, and that I could find my real answers there.  So I scampered upstairs to the bedroom, turned off all the lights, slipped on a blindfold, and fell into sivassana – my favorite meditation pose.  Lying on my back, palms up to the skies, body relaxed and surrendered.

The games continued in my mind, even in this sincere effort to just relax and escape the brain banter.  Instead, she kicked it up another notch.  This time, she hit me with a challenge.

“I’ll show you what’s true.  I’ll show you I’m in control.  I’ll make your cell phone ring.”

“Bullshit you will, I turned my cell phone off when I came up here.”

On cue, the cell rang, and I about freaked out.  I didn’t pick it up, but stared intently at the unknown number.  Then I yelled my demand.

“Leave a message, and it better be TRUE!”

The voicemail bell chimed, and my heart freaked out.  I played the message and had to laugh at the irony.  

It was static.  Nothing but fuzz.  1 1/2 minutes of white noise.  At least we were getting closer – that felt more honest than the nonsense that had been stewing in the mind space all night, so I felt like progress had been made.

Back in meditation mode, things really got dicey.  I could not get around my mind.  She would lead me down a rabbit hole, baiting me with what felt like a real-time revelation, but before I knew it I’d be spelling out a grocery list, fretting about the upcoming Vipassana retreat, lamenting the lack of Orion’s naked body in the bed, on and on and on some more.  But as this volume exploded within, so did a few nuggets of wisdom.

“You can’t beat your mind at her game.  You’re using your mind to chase your mind – she’ll find darker and deeper holes to hide in, and you’ll never cease this game.  Don’t fight fire with fire.”

That, and:

“Use the tools you have in this illusion to *escape* the illusion.”

That one got me.  I had avoided calling on the spirits nestled in my objects of power, because I have come to own the true illusion of this maya-world.  But it struck me that these entities were no more or less real than, say, Orion.  Or Mac.  Or Pi.  And i”m aces at using them to help me out of the madness, so why not extend this to all the manifestations I have gifted myself with?

Yes, that was making serious sense.  And that simply meant I needed to take off the blindfold, go down to the mesa, and use Huachuma in the highest way possible.  With eyes and heart wide open.  Enough with the mind war.

I grabbed the book on my nightstand as I descended the stairs  - “Enlightenment for Beginners” by Chuck Hillig.   That seemed relevant.  I then turned on the Adyashanti recordings Orion had recently burned for me – tuned in to the “Direct Path” dialogue.  I had all guns a-blazin — tools to the hilt.

Truth was hitting me from all sides.  Adya talked about the blazing obsession with truth the most sincerest members of the spiritual path tend to uncover, and I resonated like a mad-woman.  He coupled that with the inevitable “aloneness” stage that hits fast and furiously, and I felt the tears flow as I knew that all too well.  Then I thumbed through Chuck’s book.  Holy cow did that do a number on my head.  It is a brilliant unfolding of – OMG – the truth of who we are!  The way we’ve projected every aspect of our worlds – the movie, the move screen, the projector, and the space between!  

And yet, eegawds, I was not satisfied.  Because it only felt like my mind was in the game – trying to insert herself into the “realness”, when in fact she was the ego-generated, and thus part of the illusion.  And so I didn’t *feel* this truth – it was only be intellectualized.  

But that would have to be enough.  I spent 8 hours in ceremony, tearing down the walls of illusion, and the end result was both profound and meaningless.  Yes, I owned into the core of my being that my mind does not hold the path to enlightenment – she will never share anything but relative truths.  And yes, I once again confirmed that I am – we all are – part of one masterful, God-head awareness.  And that I wasn’t any more or less enlightened than Jesus – I just wasn’t ready to step into that full realization.  I could feel him, and all the other masters, calling to me, whispering “wake up wake up wake up” into my ear, and yet – that block.  That ceiling.

I laughed it off and said thank you to my spirit friends for showing me all this and more.  I couldn’t force it – another priceless message.  My wanting truth wasn’t enough – I had to own my own integrity in every single moment, stay present and detached, and let grace do her thing – if, and when.

Tough lessons, but beautiful all the same.  I climbed back into bed exhausted, brow-beaten, but a little bit wiser in the heart-space.  And ready to get up the next morn and keep on keepin’ on.

“I run into your thought from across the room
Just another trick
Can I weather this
I’ve got a fever above my waist
You got a squeeze box on your knee
I know the truth is in between the 1st and 40th drink”

-Miss Tori A

Artwork by Kari Minnick

I’m in a perpetual “wha?” state as of late, more than a little flummoxed by the odd energies I’ve fallen into.  My chosen perspective in the highest sense is to embrace said-frustration, say yay to my mass confusion, and transcend the urge to, well, feel it.

That only feels like half the story, however – like I’m ignoring a chance to dance through the whole spectrum.  So allow me to indulge in the ambiguity.

Sheesh, it’s so ambiguous, in fact, that I hardly know where to begin.  I’ll go first to my feelings.  I am absolutely submerged in the duality of emotions.  There’s someone I feel rather threatened by – his energies / message feel harsh and egoic to me these days, if I’m speaking from one of my many perspectives.  On the other hand, I can see the self-projection of this reaction clear as day, own it as my own distortion, and cease to view him in any other light but that of divinity.  And when I ask myself – which one is true?  Is he full of shit and spouting mindless drivel?  Or is he a sage showing me wisdom and self-illumination?  Self answers – why yes, he is!  Both of these and neither of these!

To which I say – Grrrrr.

Conversations have been laden with miscommunications lately, and they’re not normally even my own.  I have watched over a dozen times this week as people interpret statements in multiple ways – none of which mirror how I see things.  I realize that’s always, always happening, and I’m simply casting a light on this revelation.  We humans, damn, we just don’t communicate well.  We pretend to, in all earnestness, but because our own little world view is so incredibly snowflake-unique, we just can’t see it any other way but our own.  So we walk around understanding on a higher level (although not always in tune with such things) and pretending to understand on the mind-level.  It’s a very interesting game.

Last night I had a dream involving Hubby (a best friend in LA who was always been my “gay husband” – in other words, my intimate other half that is repulsed by my plumbing).  We were talking about a major life decision I was trying to make – whether or not to accept a job at Disney (where we both first met – and BTW, this job offer is entirely fictional.  I am not poised to return to Mouse-hell). I surmised with Hubby whether or not accepting the job would give me a color on my rainbow-colored easel.  In my dream-world, everyone carried around a flat easel-like object covered in fabric that reminded me of the outside of a tennis ball.  When a decision was made that allowed for personal growth and transformation, one got a color on their easel.  That was my focus in the dream – I didn’t want to do anything that would be, in essence, colorless.

Hubby challenged this.  He mused that I cared only about gaining colors, not about living.  He stated he had no clue how many colors his easel had, as it wasn’t his concern.  He just wanted to be present, to live, to be happy and suck the marrow dry.  I got this perspective, and then started discussing the “game within a game” concept – that coloring in my easel was equal in meaning to not coloring in my easel – it’s all the same in the end, regardless.  The act of gaining colors was just a distraction for my mind, something for her to focus on, as real transcendence occurred.  Hubby stated I spent more time helping others get colors than filling in my own, anyway, and I challenged him there – stating there was no difference between a color on, say, Seeker’s easel (he also appeared in the dream – a very prominent ex-boyfriend) than one on mine – it was all mine, ultimately.  That whole oneness thing.

The dream really hammered into the heart of my confusion.  It’s as if all this effort, all these hopes and dreams and truth-tellings and heart-pours – they are all, in the highest sense, meaningless.  I will return to the source and achieve enlightenment whether or not I always tell the truth.  Choose to be a murdering freakfest or hug it out with one and all.  It’s all. . . the same.  I’m just looking for the right distractions that divert my attention long enough for the *real* truth to float on in with any sort of staying power.  But even then – hell, I’m not sure that works either.  

It’s all about intuition, at the end of the day, and I guess that’s where I’m lost.  I have a hard time deciphering between bona fide internal knowingness and the often uber-convincing egoic chatter.  Kat, my alter EGO, talks a *very* good game – she often masquerades as the enlightened one, as she so desperately wants to be in on the secret.  And can’t be.  So, until I get very, very clear on which Me is attempting to guide the proverbial bus, I suppose confusion is the delicious dish I must just feast on, with gratitude.

So, yay for the head-spinning WTF is happening outcries.  I’d like to see my mind get so worked up over the inexplicable little world I’ve now adopted that she just implodes already and lets the God-head take over.  I’ll keep being confused by what it is I’m actually trying to do.  I’ll keep feeling confused about what teachers are telling me, the games Orion is playing, and the various voices in my manic being.  

Down deep, I can admit – I get it.  Somehow, some way, it’s clear.  I don’t have the words – they can’t access this knowingness.  And so those words that do appear speak only of the small mind.  This I know.  Illumination doesn’t come through the mind, which is the source of all words – so just know that if you could sit across from me now, if we could see each other. . .we may echo our confusions, but a good old-fashioned eye-lock would reveal something vastly different.  We could hold each other as mirrors for just a moment, and see that we do, in fact, Know.

Now that’s a revelation.

It’s a phrase that has been running in my noggin incessantly these days — “Nothing is as it seems.”

But what does that mean, exactly?  What am I trying to tell myself with this bizarre little nugget of wisdom?

It came to me today.  During coffee with a new / old soul that has already transformed me.  I’ll call her Shakti.  She has been integral to my most recent unraveling, and the profundity is starting to materialized.  Lest I think that this mind I’m wrestling with isn’t a powerful beast – I had another borderline mental breakdown last week, involving perceived infidelity and a wild little spiral, of which Shakti helped to orchestrate, albeit unknowingly.

Orion is a tough one to be in love with, from an ego’s perspective.  He does not feed me “forever baby” bullshit, as we are now-focused beings that don’t dare promise anything of tomorrow.  I am also aware of his adventurous past, and he’s wonderfully honest about his desires and intrigues.  To sum it up, the boy is very sexual, very *very* charming /attractive / magnetic, and he isn’t brainwashed by the typical monogamous “supposed to do” programming.  These are all things I positively adore about him, in the highest sense, but a comfortable ego they do not make.  Also a stroke of perfection, as it allows me to be uber-honest with myself about my fears and insecurities.  If I try and project that stuff on him in a distorted fashion, he has none of it – just a neon sign that says “that shit don’t work here, yo”.  And so if I want harmony and honesty with him (which, of course, I really do), then I must only be truthful about what *I’m* experiencing, and not so quick to blame one smidgen on him.  There is no him in the grand scheme anyway, righto?

And so it goes that a week or so back, I decided to freak myself out.  I came home from work after an estranged day of communication with Orion (only my perception, mind you) to find he wasn’t home.  Unusual for that hour.  And my first instinct, clear as a church bell, was that Orion was spending time with Shakti.  I called him, he answered, and guess where he was?  Yup, at her house.  I promptly hung up and dove into my ego’s projections.  He’s cheating.  Found greener pastures.  Connecting with someone who can hand me my ass in the spiritual space.  There goes the house of cards.

I lay down in bed in a meditation pose and went deep into these stories, without resistance.  My body shook, my heart slammed away inside, and my head went on a wild ride.  I felt myself saying internally that I deserved this anyway, that this was karma.  But I allowed myself, every so briefly, to believe the story – Orion was with another woman.  I felt it with every cell.  

And then I laughed out loud.  Hysterically.  Belly shaking laughter that ripped me out of my meditation and back into the Maya, this time with a new point of view.

It took the rest of the evening to totally dismantle the false programming, and a really wonderful heart-connected talk with Orion, where I confessed the whole shebang.  But by then, I saw what was *really* happening.  My mind tried to paint me a picture of infidelity, in order to finally get me back under her spell.  Orion is often the villain during those power plays, as no one has ever supported my ascension more than him.  Once again, I came to know how nothing is what it seems – and that’s just the tip of the spirit-berg.

This all helps me recall a moment after the second Ayahuasca ceremony – my cracking open experience.  I had finally pulled myself out of the devastating funk I had fallen into that day, and fell in step beside Denise, a lovely wise woman from Colorado.  I don’t recall which one of us said it first, but we lamented on how “normal got erased last night.”  And then we laughed at the concept and the truth of it all.  We would never see things the same way again.  That has proved to be mind-shatteringly true.

Coming back to Shakti, as I sat across from her today and heard he sincerely tell me she loves me and trusts me, I could only grin and sincerely tell her the same.  This is the other piece of the puzzle, of course – ego wants me away from her as well.  She’s very, very powerful – more in the ownership of her divinity than just about any other woman I have met.  She and I are starting a very electric bond now, and the depths of where we will likely go together is not something I can begin to put my head around.  I know this, and therefore understand how it is I tried to keep her away with a wildly false made-up tale.  

Fear is a tricky one.  But I’m finding the corners where she dwells in, blasting her with the light of integrity.  I will not be tricked out of my awakening.  Writing that makes my head buzz, my eyesight brighten, my skin spring up in awareness.  I will not hold myself back from my divinity.

Getting in the car after the coffee time with Shakti, I couldn’t stop chuckling to myself.  At the synchronicities, the perfect unfolding, and the thought that maybe, just maybe I’ll start catching these little tricks a little earlier.  That maybe I’ll own the knowledge that “nothing is as it seems” so much, I start seeing what really is.  Yeah, strike the “maybe” business.  I’m on my way.  And I know just the people who can keep reminding me of the Truth.

Take to the Sky

It’s a topic I’ve typed out a thousand times or more – truth-talk. The definition of truth. My own personal journey with uncovering what’s Real. Even my first novel encompasses this theme, and I recognize this to be one of my biggest lessons in this embodiment. I am so hungry for the integration of self-realization, so devoted to this unraveling, that I am absolutely positive I will come to know Her. And myself.

For now, though, there are still some shadowy spaces inside the internal layers. I had a cracking open of sorts last night during a chat with Healer – a magnificent shift from head to heart-space occurred, just through his gently inquisitive nature. Sometimes all it takes is the “What are you FEELING?” nudge, and I’m suddenly aware of who I am again. I am floored by how much I resist the emotional self sometimes. Trust me, if I could think my way to enlightenment, I’d do it in an instance. I’d be there already. Yet I know that the uncharted spaces within me – essentially, the truest parts of all – lie in my emotional body, and they hold the keys to the kingdom.

I am dedicated to knowing my authentic self, and in that, I have to go deeper into the emotional process. At the same time, I refuse to dwell on any of the negatives – as Orion has said to me, haven’t we suffered enough? That’s absolutely the case. There will be no wallowing in the woe-is-me space, there will be no negative indulgences into the old victim paradigm. At the same time, sadness flows through me. Anger is often the primary emotion. And if I don’t lock and load on these waves, and release them, I won’t just halt my ascension, I’ll reverse all the beautiful healing work I’ve already taken on.

I have been reminded many times in my life how well I can process physical pain. To be perfectly honest, I can even achieve enjoyment from some forms (tattoos, for example, feel absolutely cosmic.) At the very moment a physically painful experience triggers in my sensory field, I am immediately faced with a conscious choice – how do you want to receive this? I do very well with choosing grace. Choosing bliss, instead of resistance. Falling into the pain, saying hello, and naming her Love instead. I don’t see why these same principles can’t be applied into the emotional realm. I will certainly not attempt to distort whatever emotions are uncovered, but I’m determined to become a vessel of transference. To go deep, acknowledge the fear, or the rage, and let it flow. Honor it’s presence and origin. But to do so quickly, and to flip it into a state of graceful gratitude. To smile through the tears, knowing the willingness to go there brings me closer to the sun. Closer to being a healer myself.

Ayahuasca is on the horizon – just three weeks away. She taught me this lesson years ago. I remember the third ceremony, learning about letting go of resistance. I got so good at surrendering to my divinity in those hours, the purge I was blessed to experience (which was a release of some self-loathing I had been carrying for eons) didn’t cause one muscle in my body to tense up. I succeeded in physically releasing a huge dose of negative energies without so much as an eyelash bat. It felt absolutely mind-blowingly beautiful. I realized my power in that instance – that there was no such thing as a negative emotion, if I just trusted the process and focused on love.

It feels good to remember.

Healer and I enjoyed day 2 of the cosmic sessions on Sunday, welcoming several more people into the sacred space we created. The magic continued – all who passed through my doors experienced an energetic shift, and received a whole lotta positive energies. Purgings galore, emotional releases, and an overall sense of the miraculous Divine.

When the sessions ceased, Sage, Healer and myself continued the magic by engaging in a profound discussion about ego, detachment, and personal conflicts. As the night wore on, however, I felt the negativities brewing in me. I felt all kinds of pain continue to surface and swirl inside, despite all these incredible unfoldings. I knew I needed another session, and Healer felt it too. I even broke down in tears over a conflict in Sage’s life – one between him and another angel-friend I love more than words here. I finally told him how much it hurt to be in the middle, to love them both so deeply and yet have to bask in the waters of their animosity. He shifted. He heard me, and Healer. He promised to let go of the anger and reconnect. That uplifted me, and his strength ignited mine. I knew I was ready to go deep and really heal.

The session started normally – I clamored up onto the table and hunkered down for whatever would come. Healer seemed to feel it would be a gentle eve, but I expressed how cold I was, how I couldn’t stop shaking, and we felt the mood shift into a serious tone. Candles lit, lights dimmed, and he started feeling my energies. We talked a little bit about what might be up with me, what was at the heart of this unsettling. I didn’t have access to the answers. I couldn’t really tell him why I was so upset. He even told me I wasn’t making any sense, and I couldn’t argue – we just weren’t getting to the heart of the matter.

So he put his hands around my heart and started moving my body, freeing up the blockages. Emotions began to flood up. We talked about my novel – the finished one that lost it’s publishing deal because the company folded – and I tried to pretend it didn’t matter. That this chapter was closed. Then we talked about my writer’s block. I even had a block in discussing why this was happening to me. But as he moved my body and zeroed in on some key pressure points, shit started surfacing in a mad rush.

He hit some excruciatingly painful spots in my arms, and I started screaming. Then came more pain, and I fought and flailed. Tears erupted, and my head flooded with various images, but I still didn’t know what it was. I let go of the story though, and willed myself to just let it out. Healer demanded the same, telling me repeatedly to let it go. I wanted so badly to know what IT was, but as soon as I detached from the knowing, things started jumping out of my body. I felt lighter, I felt myself sucked into a light-filled vortex, and I knew we were on to something. Not there yet, but traveling at light speed, and about to hit the destination.

Healer moved up beyond my head and mumbled “It’s in your jaw.” I tensed up and felt my resistance. I loathe the jaw work – just one tiny push in that area sends incredible jolts of pain and horrendous emotional memory down my body. But he went in hard and fast and didn’t give me any time to prepare. I screamed some more. I fought like a caged panther. But it felt so good to finally have that deep cry, the multi-layered explosion. Suddenly, I saw beings all around me – all light-filled and lovely. Beings I have seen and felt in Shamanic ceremonies and during my most trying times. I heard my Guru telling me what a gift it will be to finally be honest. Honest about what? What was I hiding from?

The truth. The bloody terrifying truth. And then, I knew. I absolutely, unequivocally knew. I knew how to liberate myself. And it was the one thing I had been resisting more than any other.

This is my confession.

Most of my life, I’ve felt like sexual victim. I’ve felt so shutdown and abused and completely in the dark about my sexuality, I’ve forever been pegged as an abused being, and suspected something had transpired in my youth. And I have so much emotion around it, that as a young teenager, I found myself making up stories in order to justify the mess of feelings I could never shake. The stories got me love and support and sympathy. Things I craved so badly I would skirt to the edge of suicide without – then share a story, feel love, and survive just that much longer.

But the burden of these lies became far worse than the emotions that spawned them. Twice in my life, I came clean with the people I loved. And for the most part, it turned out well – I showed them my heart and they showed me forgiveness. Then came an acid tab at age 21, and snapshots of what I thought might be actual memories. Memories of sexual abuse as a child. The story that I always wanted to find.

I pounced on these images with intense veracity, and shared selectively with those I needed to feel love from. I needed this experience so badly, that I, at times, fell into a state of complete belief that these things really happened. Really atrocious things. I felt them, damn it – I knew it had to be real. And my first novel – it is entirely about this experience. A woman’s quest to validate her memories, hinging life and death on the result. They HAD to be real. Because if they weren’t, I not only could never explain my perceived brokenness, but I was also guilty of the most heinous of crimes – lying and manipulating the people I loved most.

In the meantime, I created many of the scenarios I feared the most. I brought men into my bed that did many of the things I thought transpired in my memories. Nightmarish acts of abuse. But rather than tell those truths and heal what had truly transpired, I held tight to the stories and made them my cross to bear. Thus avoiding the heart of the matter, and placing myself in a vicious, damning spiral.

This was life or death. If it turned out I was a big fraud, I could never face the music. I believed I would lose everything. So I kept myself in this ultimate darkness, this profound illusion, in order to stay safe. In order for my ego to keep her image up. That precious, ridiculous need to be right.

As Healer dug into my jaw, he ignited my truth. He pushed out the resistance to say what I know in the deepest parts of my soul to be real. And as it turns out, my stories were total falsities. The emotions, they were / are real. My angels, my Guru, and various people that love me unconditionally – all their souls jumped in to my sphere of consciousness and started to urge me on. To let go of this – my biggest self-inflicted demon – and have the bravery to be honest. And so after a long, long bout of tears, feet pounding on the table, writhing in pain and resistance – I let my body fall into a rag doll pose and I finally spoke the truth.

I told Healer that I had lied. That I had created these stories in order to help myself justify what I felt. That all I wanted to do was be honest and forgive myself – my ultimate dream and biggest fear. And he responded with something miraculous. He said there was nothing to forgive, and he held me and kissed my forehead.

We weren’t done with the session. He worked a bit more near my head chakra, then informed me that a rush of light / energy was about to enter my body, and that all I needed to do was receive. I lay limp and eager, feeling unbelievable relief and support from my band of celestial beings and earth-bound angels. Just as Healer told me, at exactly the moment he said “Here it comes”, I went from feeling frightened and freezing to an indescribable state of unconditional love. My body tingled through every pore, and this flood of warmth washed over me repeatedly. I was being absolved of the biggest burden I had ever known, and as I let go of the stories and the self-hatred and the shame, in came a million points of light to fill in the empty spaces. This was the greatest gift I could ever receive – the most profound healing of my life.

After the session, Healer and I stayed up to discuss the revelations. He shared his heart, I more of my truths, and I realized the session was anything but over. Since I had just cleared out the strongest blockage I had ever carried, the Divine was having no problem speaking through me. I found myself digging into Healer’s soul, asking him to show his heart to me, and to my humble realization, he responded in kind. We talked all night. Supporting each other, accepting every last nuance and deed, sharing love and support and not a single drop of judgment.

There’s another piece to this night, another huge unraveling, but it’s so profound and so huge and so much a part of me that it deserves it’s own spotlight. So for now, the confession ends. I’ll be back soon with more of the truth, and nothing but.

To Healer, Z, RyRy, Best Friend, Sage, Promises Partner, Pisces Prince, Miss L, all those who joined me this weekend, and everyone who loved me enough to give me this ultimate gift of love and growth and who care enough to forgive my gravest mistakes – thank you. There will never be enough words.