SCAN

As I sit here staring at the word of the day. I am a little taken aback as my mind goes blank! You see I used to write every single day I have so many blogs on the word of the day and the WordPress stopped doing them for a long time. I am not saying this is why I stopped writing but it has been a minute since I picked up pencil to paper or fingers to the keyboard. I mean there was the occasional blog post here and there but nothing like before. I have started school for writing which I have also been procrastinating at and I noticed that the word of the day is back. Yay! I don’t know how long it will be around this time but hopefully long enough for me to finish my school work. I love how I can go on there with a bit if anticipation SCAN the days until I come to the word of the day and viola! A whole story begins to unravel right before my eyes. So much so that my fingers have a hard time keeping up with the words flowing our of my head. Crazy, right? Oh, look at that I can use the word of the day today. I haven’t writiten in a while but as my fingers fly across the keyboard there is that old humming in my gut, that zing up my spine that lets me know I am exactly where I am suppossed to be. Thanks WordPress for giving me inspiration even when I am depleted of it.

DREAM HOUSE

Some of my worst nightmares took place in a house. A house I have never seen before and yet it was familiar to me.

The house was huge and spacious. Nothing like I could ever have lived in, in my entire life. I have had many a dream inside this house. I can honestly say I have never been there and yet, this house is the star of many a dream. Most of which are horrible, terrifying dreams. Now, I am assuming the experts would say something like this house represents a childhood home or that I see this house as myself. Even google say it can be a representation of a childhood home or it can be something I have never seen before. One thing I have found in my research of “house” dreams was from the HUFFINGTON POST says “It could show you that you could be bigger. If you find more and more rooms in a big house, you may need to be more conscious of pieces of yourself not yet discovered.” I actually like this last interpretation as a writer I struggle to know if I have uncovered the last of myself or is there still more layers to come.

However, these dreams are always filled with a sort of terror that I would never even see in a movie. There is always so much going on that until recently I didn’t realize that I was in the exact same house over the course of several years. The dream always starts out great I am in my new home that I had just purchased and am elated that it is all mine. From the outside, the dream is never anything special but on the inside it is immaculate. With more rooms than I can count it feels as if it is fit for a Queen with hidden corridors and endless space. The plush carpeting that covers certain rooms all a different color to match the walls the antique wooden sconces on the walls. The marble flooring in the kitchen and entryways. The staircase that leads up to forever it seems and it is all dark cherry wood appearing as if from a time forgotten. The very first time I dreamed of this house the dream didn’t last very long it was a beautiful bright warm sunny day as it usually is when I dream of this home and as I was exploring my new dream home I discovered a secret room under the stairs.Since there were no doors to this room I was curious as to how someone would get into the room. I was on the ground floor and the steps were in need of repairs

The very first time I dreamed of this house the dream was very short lived.  It was a beautiful bright warm sunny day as it usually is when I dream of this home and as I was exploring my new dream house I discovered a secret room under the stairs.Since there were no doors to this room I was curious as to how someone would get into the room. I was on the ground floor and the steps were in need of repairs. There were huge gaps in between them big enough that you could peer into and see what lay beyond the stairs,  a scene straight out of any good horror movie. Cobwebs, covered the spaces and as I went to clean them I began to hear a low growling. Now these stairs were diferent  as there were walls built around them and there was a small landing on each floor signalling the next level of the home. Very small space, there were stairs and walls and nothing more.

So when the growling started I ran up the landing onto the next level into a tiny space. Once there I could here scratching in the walls as if whatever was growling under the stairs had actually followed me through the walls. It was trying to get out and I as usual was home alone and there was no one to help me. I climb back down and head for the door just as a skeltal hand reaches in between the rickety steps and tries to grab me. I trip and fall and twist my ankle so I can’t get away when a face appears in between the crooked steps. A sliver of terror races up my spine as it reaches out once more to try and snatch me.. I scream but nothing comes out I see the red demonic eyes of what can only be some sort of other worldly creature watching me, getting more pissed by the second that I am just out of his reach. He reaches through the steps with a swiftness I have never seen before and he smells of sulfer and death the bile rises to my throat as his stench singes my senses and I can even taste his fowlness on my tongue. He reaches out with a clawed green leathery hand and swipes at my face just as the tip of his middle claw grazes my nose I awaken on a peiercing scream that rouses my husband ou of his deep sleep.

As the bedroom light is switched on I am out of breath, my heart is racing, and I can’t stop shaking. The terror of my dream still riding me as if it had really happened. I was actaully able to speak of this happy dream turned nightmare the next day. I was still scared and somehow it took me a while to sleep well after this dream. It wasn’t the house or even the demon that tried to snatch me that terrified me. It was the pure terror and paralizing evilness I felt. It was like the longer the dream lasted the longer the more of my soul was getting pulverized by an unknown evil I have yet to face. That is what made this dream so terrifying, and it would not be the last dream where I felt the soul sucking devil in my dreams.

Always in this house too. Maybe there is something to the dreams or maybe I am the house and the terror I feel is just me being scared I will one day wind up as evil as my mother. Stay tuned to the other dreams I have in this home. Cause we are jsut getting started.

Buried

We buried my grandmother today and said our goodbyes. Although a few tears were shed I feel almost empty inside. Void of something I am suppossed to feel but don’t. I know she is no longer here which makes me happy to know she no longer suffers the angst of the world. Yet, when I look at those around me I feel sadness when their fears fall even if I can’t shed any of my own. Does this make me a monster because I can’t cry? Or does it proof to myself and others that I indeed have a heart?  Or better yet, that I am not like those that raised me?

As the funeral began and the man began to speak of my grandmother. Of how she was a good Christian woman that loved her family. Her husband her kids, her grandkids, her great grandkids and even her great great grandchild. ( Who incidentally is my grandchild). I felt as if she were there watching listening to all these stories of just how great she was. There was a prayer at the end and that was it. We all began to spill outside into the beating sun to wait until it was time to go to the cemetery.
The s is when my mind began to wander and I thought about all the stories I had heard of her that wasn’t so great. The verbal smacks and kicks she gave to all of her children and how each of them carried on this (tradition). In their own way.

The abuse that spanned generations had now all become a distant memory in the wake of her passing. I found this interesting. Of course no one is going to voice this information at a funeral how inappropriate would that be? Or would it?

There s is the moment I realized that when I die I don’t care who likes it no lies!

I don’t want to be watching my own funeral and hear people  speak of how sweet I was, or that I was a pillar in the community, or that I loved all my kids (equally). Anyone that knows me knows that’s a lie!  First off I am a bitch! Not always mind you but just enough that people know I am a bitch with the best of intentions of not being a bitch that somehow always seems to get away from me. The community, ha I genuinely hate being around people. Why would I want to help someone who in most cases are perfectly capable of helping themselves out they just choose not to. My kids,  all parents have a favorite. They are lying if they say they don’t. We all know this and I bet as you are reading this your thinking of your favorite kid right now.  Why? Because there is always one kid that you see more of yourself in than the other, and depending on which trait they have could very well determine if that kid is the favorite or not. To be honest your favorite could also change from day to day, hour by hour depending on what stupid thing they did in that moment. 

I want to be known for the fierceness I feel about my kids the lengths I would go to to destroy anyone that hurt them. Yet,  at the same time know  the very real fact that my laziness knows no bounds when it comes to cleaning my house. I want people to know that I feel a fire a drive a passion to follow my dreams deep down in my soul. Yet, pack the conviction of follow through. I want people to know I am complicated. What is true for me today could very well change tomorrow.
I want people to know I loved with all of me to the point of my near destruction. Yet, I don’t know that anyone has ever felt this kind of love for me.
I want people to know I’m not perfect. None of us are. Most any of us can ever hoe for is to be seen truly seen for who and what we are. Human, with human flaws and an acceptance of said flaws.

So what, I can’t cry at my grandmother’s funeral I still  feel her loss. So, what she said mean things to her kids. She always had a kind word for me. Why are grandparents so much better at being grandparents because they got to find out what not to do with their own kids.
As I sat in that crowded room today gazing at all these people that showed up for her today. I really had to ask myself. Am I the only one who is angry? It was in that second I heard a voice say, “it wasn’t always as such.” Right before a vision of my grandmother twirling her first young daughter in a dance with laughter in her eyes came into my line of sight. It was in this moment I saw her for the kind, loving, sweet grandmother I had always known her to be. Instead of the verbal monster others told me she used to be. That woman was gone. Had been for quite some time. She was only alive because my anger let her live. In this moment I cried. Tears of love for a grandmother that only ever showed me kindness. The grandmother that deserved recognition for all the good deeds she had done. A grandmother worthy of the name.  Grandmother. I love.you and until next we meet…

PING PONG BALL?

Some days I feel as if I am the tiny ball in the very large Ping-Pong game and other days I feel like the box the ball is contained in, controlled chaos if you will. This weekend, I was definitely the ball bouncing from one wall to the other. Sometimes finding a little surprise shortcut only to find myself back where I started. There were times when I would all at once find that the muddled chaos was even slowing down a bit, right before I was pinged really quickly back and forth over a new wave of what appeared to be racking up the points, only to realize moments later. I wasn’t really going anywhere. This is the definition of insanity. Which I came close to on several occasions this weekend. I found myself slammed over and over to no avail of that blasted Ping-Pong board, the constant ding, ding, ding of the “perceived win” driving me to madness. Even now, I can hear the ball hitting a nonexistent score, causing me to cringe in the process.

I feel as if while I began the weekend with high hopes for the days ahead. It ended the same way it began, so in a way. I went nowhere, and did absolutely nothing productive. Over the next few days I may feel the same but who knows maybe the dark cloud that has chosen to set up residence over me will have mercy and only last a couple of days, All I know right now is that I am tired of being the ball that gets kicked around. How bout you?

ANIMAL SPEAK

I was watching something on YouTube tonight where this couple owns not only a pet Cheetah but a pet Puma as well. They were not US where I am they also didn’t speak English. It may have been somewhere like Russia. I don’t know but they spoke in another language and the animals responded to what they said. This got me thinking… Are animals universal when it comes to language? If so why haven’t we learned to be unbiased as they are? Are the animals actually smarter than us?

What I mean by this no offense is Animals don’t care about the color of your skin. They don’t care who you voted for in the last election. They don’t care what language you speak, what country your from. Only that you show them love and affection. They care about the basics where to eat, where to sleep, where to poop. The bonus is that they get to love on someone who will in turn show them love in return. In this respect they seem to be far superior to us mere humans that seem to get butt hurt over everything and anything these days,

So, I just thought I would write down this little thought. As I find it fascinating and a little mind blowing that these great cats could understand the lady in the video. I get that if they are raised around the language it might be what they understand, Yet, it hit me in such a way that animals really are universal. They strip it down to the necessities and show you what is really important, what really matters. I wish more of us could be like these great cats.

Until next time when we get real!

PAIN

Pain, it’s a bitch, isn’t it? They say pain is good, pain is there to let you know you’re alive. Yet, I am pretty sure some deaths feel massive amounts of pain right before their eyes glaze over permanently fixed in death. Right?

Don’t even get me started on emotional pain. It is one of those things that even the closest of observers cannot see. Emotional pain can be that silent killer that eats away at you from the inside out. It can sneak up on you when you least expect it and BAM! It’s got you. You never can tell just by looking at someone the emotional hell they are going through when they seem so normal on the outside.

Take Celeste for example. A beautiful young girl. All of 20 she is of an unknown origin with her caramel-colored skin and her long black curly hair. She is petite but buxom at the same time. She stands there trembling in her white cotton baby doll nightgown the very picture of innocence fingering the simple gold cross she received for her sixteenth birthday, so long ago. Can you picture her? Now picture the reason she trembles. She stands in the library of the drafty old mansion toes sinking further and further into the lush carpet. one hand fingering the cross while the other grips a dagger, a bloody dagger. As her knuckles seem to whiten further from the death grip, she holds on to the ebony carved handle her hooded emerald eyes track the bead of crimson through her thick lashes as it splashes onto the luxuriant white carpet an immediate jolt to the system. Seeing that pinpoint of red as it seems to spread further and further in a sea of pristine puffy clouds

 Can you still picture her? I am sure a million questions are running through your mind right now. How could someone so innocent so young be holding a bloody knife? Where did the knife come from? Whose blood is on the knife? Is sweet and innocent Celeste a murderer? What would you say if I told you not only was she standing there with a bloody knife in her hand, but she was also standing over the owner of the mansion she resided in? A devilishly handsome, debonair man, a man that had more money than God himself. A man that drank more than he ate who also had a different woman warming his bed every day of the week. What might you think of poor sweet Celeste then?

 Did the master of the house try something on Celeste? Is she justified in holding that bloody knife? How is it that she came to live under the same roof as a young handsome billionaire in the first place? What would you say if I told you that Celeste and this man were in love? What would you say if I told you that the rumor going around was that Kyle the handsome proprietor of the property had changed his ways in recent weeks? He no longer bedded women just because he could. He spent less and less time at the bars and more and more time at home. Helping Celeste with her schoolwork. Kyle became fascinated with Celeste after living a lifetime with her under the same roof. He never really saw her until now.

 He remembered the first time he saw her he was nine and she was four. His father had hired her mother as the new governess, and he couldn’t understand why she had to come along for the ride. He didn’t want any little girl with pigtails cramping his style. The first time he realized he loved her he winced at his first memory of her and came to the startling realization even then he loved her, hair and all.  Yet now he lay in a puddle of his own blood dead while his beloved stood over him. Holding the thing that killed him still trembling at the sight in front of her while tears began to leak out of the corner of her eyes. Has your opinion of Celeste changed? Did she in fact kill her love? For what reason? Did he revert to his old ways, and it became too much for Celeste? If she did kill him, what would drive her to such sever actions instead of just walking away from the situation? Has twenty-year-old Celeste lost it? Or is she a product of a wrong time, wrong place situation?

Did she, do it? What do you think? Would it change anything to know that she was raised a sweet an innocent Catholic girl? That until a few short months ago she had been so focused on her studies she almost missed the lightening that struck her the moment Kyle became more to her than simply the boss’s son. Still traumatized from her father being shot dead in front of her at the age of two Celeste had seen several things in her young life that would make any other person either insane or a criminal. She took it all in stride. Her mother doing anything and everything she could to make ends meet, to Celeste her mother was her hero. Never compromising who she was because of her situation. She was determined to teach Celeste the right way of doing things. Celeste being the shy kid never had it easy in school either. From the moment she entered kindergarten she knew she didn’t belong with any of her peers. Cast as the outcast she was made fun of from day one. Being fatherless, didn’t help either. Mr. Covington hiring her mother and welcoming her into his home was a godsend. She remembered the day she met Kyle with his little suit and his perfectly straight blonde hair. She knew the second she met him she would never be good enough. Yet strangely six months ago she could hardly believe it when he asked her to split an ice cream with him and the rest as they say was history until tonight that is. She remembered the moment their lips touched for the first time. It was nothing more than Magic. She knew then and there that he would be the death of her but this. This was something different all together.

Suffering more than her fair share and her mother dying of cancer just one year ago she didn’t think that she could take one more thing. Then this happened.

Can you picture her now? Still standing there in her baby dolly gown. Her bare feet sinking even further into the carpet. Her green eyes opening wide to the moonlight as sirens start to rent the silence of the air.  Do you still think she did it? Or is she innocent? What happened to Kyle? What could he have done that would drive her to murder him?

Well, here it is. This is not one of those stories where the ending happens to be happy. Sometimes, life just doesn’t pan out that way. As the cops burst into the room watching as Celeste drops the knife. She had a death grip on not moments ago. The shock wears off and she flings herself onto Kyle her screams can be heard from blocks away. Kyle had enemies which no one will investigate because who is to question a woman possibly scorned standing over the body with the murder weapon in her hand. According, to the cops it is an open and shut case. What they don’t know is that a woman matching her hair color and body type matching Celeste’s body type had been in the room moments ago begging Kyle to take her back. Seriously pissed that he had dumped her for some one like Celeste. Poor white trash as she had called her. Jealously can get ugly on a woman, can’t it? Without even blinking she grabbed his dagger off his desk plunging it into his heart. Hearing someone in the hall she bailed out the open window. Mere seconds before Celeste came bursting in the room with a smile on her face which quickly faded as she took in the scene before here.

 Undone by what she was witnessing she grabbed the dagger without even thinking about it not realizing that she had just placed her fingerprints on the murder weapon. She stood there frozen in place watching as his life drained down the dagger onto the plush carpeting not wanting to believe her beloved was dead. Screaming gut wrenching screams as the cops carried her off into the back of a car. Her protests of innocence drowned over the sound of the siren carting her off to jail.

I bet your thinking Celeste knows pain. Doesn’t she?

She has lost everyone in her life that ever mattered to her. Including the love of her life the man she was accused of killing and would spend the next twenty years in prison for.  Never really letting herself grieve for him because she knew if she did fall apart, she would never recover. She would be broken forever. She carries the pain within her daily. Why doesn’t she just kill herself? Is the question I am sure you are asking right about now. However, this is what I find fascinating about pain. Some can carry great amounts of it without ever faltering and some can carry very little before they crack. What would you say if I told you that once Celeste gets out of prison at the age of forty, she finally begins to pick up the pieces of her broken life and even finds love again? Could you, do it? Would you, do it?  Like I said earlier, pain is a bitch. No matter how you look at it. What’s your pain threshold?

PAST LIFE DRAMA

So, I have been on a journey over the past couple of years of spirituality, self-discovery you name it. Finding myself if you will as well as dispelling a few demons along the way. I have really gotten into proving that past lives exist. I got it into my head that if I could prove this one thing then I would be forced to question everything I was exposed to growing up. Yet, that doesn’t seem right either. I was already questioning things I was just using this as my excuse to question my entire reality. While I never really got proof that past lives exist I have had some experiences that would shake the very core of me and indeed force me to look at things from an all new perspective.

Recently, I have had a resurgence, if you will of finding everything I can on past lives. I have even been reading everything I can on reincarnation when suddenly this question popped into my head the other day. So, I thought I would share it with you all and get your take on it. So, let’s just say for arguments sake that Past Lives is a real thing. Okay, so, I cannot draw to save my life. I am a writer not an artist in that sense of the word. I mean I can’t even draw a stick figure correctly. Yet, I have had the distinct feeling for more than year now that my non- dominant hand is an artist. It just hasn’t remembered how to. My first question is, is this even possible?

Much like my “spiritual awakening” I have always regarded it as not something that I am awakening to but more like I am finally remembering that I am already awake! After 3 years on this journey of mine. That is the one thing that I know with every part of me to be true. That we come into this world awake and open, it is the corruption of society and those around us that have us forgetting that we began our existence already free!

Back to the question at hand. First off I am a lefty, yes, that’s right I said it, I am a lefty. My right hand is pretty useless for just about everything. Yet, over the last year I have gotten tingles in it and moments where I can actually picture my hand, drawing, drawing such beautiful drawings that it brings me to tears. I have dreamed of this many times and it has even gotten to the point where my right hand is actually acting out this phenomena without any paper at all. I have become so convinced that my right hand is almost activating itself to be able to draw that I have actually bought paper and charcoal pencils. To terrified to use them, because what if I’m right? If I am right this would again, mean everything I think I know has to change. Not that it will change but that it has to.

So, as I pose the question you can almost guess what it will be, think about it. Following this frame of mind what hidden talent might you possess? Did I carry this talent over from a past life? Or is it just a talent I have yet to discover at age 44? I have always known since the age of five that I was meant to be a writer and this talent I know for a fact was carried over from a previous lifetime. From my last life specifically but as I dive into past lives I am discovering that I may have been a writer in many past lives. It is my joy the thing that brings me peace in times of chaos. The thing that soothes my battered soul. Yet, the artist thing is a whole other thing. It could change what many people think of when they think of past lives. We store that knowledge in there it is just a matter of tapping into that specific memory right?

So. if I was an artist in a past life. The real question is how could I tap into this hidden talent in this current life? Never mind that my brother is a born artist and my two sons are both also very talented in this regard. Which I never thought about until recently. I have surrounded myself with artists. Why is that? Unless like a true artist I only surround myself with like minded individuals. Either way, I find this very peculiar. I find the more I dig into past lives the more I find I am fascinated and the more intrigued I am. I posed this question to those that would possibly know more than I do as I am such a newbie to all of this. Yet, I feel that even those in the know have barely scratched the surface of past lives and what they mean.

Let me know what you think in the comments below as this question has been scratching at my brain for days and until next time. The Spiritual Explorer.

THE MASKS WE HAVE TO WEAR!

You know I wrote not that long ago something that speaks of the false masks we wear when we go out and interact with the world. Today, however, I want to talk about the masks we have to wear and how different our world has become. I was hand washing mine and my husband’s face mask and hanging them to dry on the towel rack in my bathroom when I was once again struck by how different the world has changed in one short year.

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This image incited feelings in me that I didn’t know I had about the pandemic and about my family, so many things came to the surface when I gazed upon these dripping masks. It made me think about all the times that we used facial cues from others to learn basic skills like knowing when someone was mad, or sad, or happy, angry even. Things we took for granted that are now lost on the babies coming into a world where they have to cover their face to protect them from this unseen killer we call Covid-19!

Don’t get me wrong, I am all for wearing the masks to protect myself, my co-workers, my family. Yet, it also makes me wonder will we ever get back to normal. Or is this it, our new normal. A world where we have spent a lifetime trying to unmask those around us only to now be told we have to wear them to live. Yes, the former is a metaphorical mask but it seems like this virus has caused things to be so much easier to hide who we really are. There is something to be said for seeing the smile on your child’s face when they see something that excites them for the first time out in the world.

Add to this, the fact that in just a few short months these masks we wear have become an industry unto itself! I have never seen a product go up and out to the public, in so many ways of buying it, faster. This just makes me ill, knowing somewhere out there some fat cat is getting fatter off of such a small piece of material. Again, don’t get me wrong I am not mad at the fact that they are everywhere now. However, and this is just my opinion. Shouldn’t they be free? I mean these masks have become the first line of defense against an unknown entity here. It is something everyone needs to protect themselves. It angers me to no end that some companies are charging an arm and a leg for them. Again I ask, “why?” This is not something that is affecting just a certain part of the world. It is affecting the entire world. All of us. Why then are people profiting off of these masks? Don’t even get me started on those that don’t even have the money to even buy a mask. Are they just screwed?

Going back to the masks hanging from the towel rack to dry. I never thought I would live in a world where this was my new normal. I mean this could be a billion dollar industry if it isn’t already. Just think of how many contraptions could be sold to help wash these masks. Or even special racks to hang them to dry. The list goes on and on. It makes me sick. To think that in these uncertain times where people all over the world are fighting for their lives. That somewhere, someone is counting on another mask being sold to line their pockets.

I hope one day very soon this blip in our history is over but what will we take away from it? Have we learned anything yet? We have gone from the masks we wear in order to be liked, or loved, to the masks we have to wear to survive. I just hope that once the masks are finally able to be removed for good we no longer have to wear one to fit in to a world that has all gone through this pandemic together. This is the message that needs to be repeated over, and over until we all understand that we are not in this alone. We are all scared, we are all afraid to step out of our homes some days. We are all in this together! Just remember the light always follows the darkness. It can’t last forever. We as humanity can’t let this virus beat us. We are made of stronger stuff than that, but you don’t have to believe me just look back at our history that some would rather wipe out than remember how far we have come and how much we have already conquered! This time in our lives is just another chapter in humanities history. We will come through it masks or not.

WEEK AHEAD SPREAD 12/06/2020

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So, if you haven’t noticed I haven’t written in a while but no worries. I have been writing just not on WordPress. I thought I would share with you guys my week ahead tarot spread and see what you think. If you would like to see this as a regular thing let me know please and thank you.

For, the 3 card spread I normally do every week on my youtube channel souldreamer. I pull 3 cards one for the energy of the upcoming week. 2nd one for the obstacle of the week and the 3rd one for the advice for the week. So, here goes.

Card 1 ENERGY- QUEEN OF CUPS-

I always see this card as a lesser high priestess. She is intuitive and calm. She sits here meditating while the water, the element associated with the cups suit in tarot washes over her and cleansed her emotional state. I feel this applies to me for the energy since I had a major upheaval of emotions today. I can absolutely see this as something I need to continue to work on. My emotions. I need to be more like the Queen of Cups in this matter. I feel confident that this is my reminder to stay zen this week and get my ass back to meditating.

CARD 2 OBSTACLE- 5 OF PENTACLES-

This card always reminds me of that little girl I used to be and sometimes still am. Feeling left out in the cold Feeling as if I have no where to turn and no way out. Stuck in a situation I am uncomfortable with. However, this card has seemed to remind me quite often this year that I am not that little girl anymore. There is nothing to fear, but fear itself. I have the key to open the door to new possibilities I just have to unlock the door and walk through.

CARD 3 ADVICE- 8 OF PENTACLES-

This card (especially in this deck) always seems to remind me of a young girl at college studying various things. Not yet knowing what she will major in. I find this very fitting as I have recently taken up some classes of my own. At 44 I am back in school. Wow, still kind of boggles my mind. However, unlike this girl I know exactly what I want and this card is my ever reminder that I need to do the work to get what I want. No matter how tedious it seems. I have to put in the work. THERE ARE NO SHORTCUTS TO SUCCESS!

This was my week ahead spread what do you guys think? I am also leaving the link to my youtube video below so you can watch it if you want to as well. Thanks for letting me ramble and have a good night.

The Spiritual Explorer

SPIRITUAL TEACHINGS

I have lost a lot of people in my life. Not by a physical death mind you, but by people coming and going in and out of my life in such a way that I began to wonder, “what is wrong with me?” I have always believed that the people we meet we meet for a reason. Sometimes that reason is obvious and sometimes we are left standing there open mouthed wondering, “what the hell just happened?”

At times it can feel as if our heart has been ripped from our chest and we are left holding the baggage from that relationship. Long after it is gone. I have been on a spiritual journey over the last year and a half and I have had many insights into myself. Yet, This one has still plagued me. You see at the moment I am friendless. Yes, I have many acquaintances but none that I hang out with go shopping with or just talk to. I am one of those people that get fully invested in someone else. and I am pretty sure I know why. So, when they inevitably leave I am heartbroken. Devastated even. Why? Is the question I have been asking myself for years.

Why do I get so deeply involved that it rips my heart away when they leave? This is the question I have asked myself over and over until it felt like insanity was taking hold. However, this is not the question I should be asking myself, because all this did was give me a free pass to put the blame on them and in doing so giving myself permission to feel sorry for myself.

The real question here is, “what did this relationship teach me?” Knowing that this was not my fault and that all things are fleeting. I can open my mind and detach emotions and really dig deep to the heart of the issue. I almost feel like an airport at times with as many relationships have come and gone yet, I have remained constant. The same person I was 20 years ago where it counts. Or have I? I lost a dear friend 2 years ago now I feel like I just woke up one day and she was no longer in my life. I mourned her as if she had died for the better part of a year. Yet, as I look back on this relationship. I see that there were many things it taught me.

I have always felt as if I were alone in this world and then I get that one or even two friend that seems to really see me and then just like the change of the wind they are gone. I now realize with the demise if that relationship. That she was placed in my path to teach me something whether she knows it or not. It was all a part of a bigger picture, much bigger than I even reaized.

Then just like a lightbulb going off! Realization hit. How, you ask? How most things come to me. By way of my dreams. As I awoke this morning from the dream I kind f went down a rabbit hole of sorts. You see this dream was of her. This friend I thought would be in my life forever. Whom, I haven’t spoken to in over 2 years now. I asked myself why now? Why dream of her now after all this time. Then it hit me. The one thing I miss about our failed relationship is our long talks of the Bible and the paranormal and everything that comes with it. Our talks was spirits way of preparing me to open my mind to expand my consciousness. For the moment I was ready to accept that I am different and have a purpose that until that point had been screaming at me. I just wasn’t ready to listen.

That of course, got me thinking of all my failed relationships and I realized yet, again there is more here than meets the eye. What if I have all of these failed relationships for a higher reason. Ok, so follow me down the rabbit hole for a minute and look at this from my perspective.

Let’s say for a moment past lives exist. I believe in them and if you don’t that’s cool but for the moment let’s say they do. I have had a couple of past life meditation where I didn’t really experience soul crushing, heart wrenching loss. You see, I am an empath and empath’s are supposed to feel their way through things, and yet, I have always felt that part of me was broken in a way. Maybe due to my upbringing or maybe the answer is much simpler than that. Maybe, just maybe I have simply in all of my past lives never learned empathy and this is the lifetime I chose to learn that particular skill for my soul growth.

The reason why friends seem like a revolving door in my life. The abuse I endured at a young age The sheer anguish I have endured in this lifetime. All seem to be staged to learn this one particular lesson. I have always said, “how can you empathize with someone if you have never been in their shoes?” This rings life a gong in my head as truth! I had to experience great loss to be able to see that my heart needs to be more open. I know it doesn’t make sense. It seems that the more loss you experience the more you harden your heart and shut down that part of you that can empathize with others.

I have been down this road for the whole of my life. I have hardened my heart and kept myself from feeling for so long that a little part of me shut down too. I have had this emptiness in me for what feels life forever almost like a plague infecting every part of me and I could never seem to bring that part of me back to life. Which in retrospect is also part of the plan. We all have choices in the world, we can choose to be miserable and live in our own misery. Or we can begin to heal and rediscover or remember what we are here to learn and move on from it.

If you are one of those people that believe we come into this world with a certain purpose in mind then this totally makes sense, right? I began learning tarot last April and this year judging by my birthday my card of the year is the Lovers card. I have been pulling it or cards that remind me of it all year. Usually the Lovers is all about relationships but for me the card was my ever reminder to find myself. To love myself. To remember that I am not alone in this world and that I have all the powers of the Universe conspiring to bring me this message to open my hear up to feel again, to love again. All geared toward my souls purpose in this life.

This was an eye opener today and as I sit here writing this I almost laugh at how perfect the web that was woven of all these interconnected things that brought me to this moment. It is so clear to me it makes giggle knowing. I am right where I am supposed to be. I am right on target to something bigger than I can even still see right now. Today was yet, another small piece of the puzzle and I am grateful for that.

Until next we meet again, The Spiritual Explorer.