This used to be a blog dedicated to one of my interests, dream interpretation. I have decided to expand it to include thoughts about pretty much Everything.

Sunday, November 19, 2017

signs and synchronicities and spirituality

You know how there are people who can't wear watches because they always make electronics short out? And people who, when they are upset, start having everything around them suddenly break down? Or those who win drawings/contests all the time? It's like, some people have spiritual gifts or energies that just "attract" certain situations, for whatever reason, and it's usually happening at a completely subconscious level. It's just part of their energy signature, I guess.

I am realizing that some people "manifest" spiritual signs and synchronicities around them all the time, and this doesn't necessarily have anything to do with their spiritual growth, health, or maturity... it's just... part of their energy signature, for whatever reason.

This is blowing my mind a bit. 
I imagine it can be confusing for those with the gift/signature/whatever as well.

I try to walk by the spirit, and I've noticed that when I focus more on that part of my life, I tend to get more signs and synchronicities show up around me.  They sort of function as encouragements, in a way, to keep doing what I'm doing. So it seems logical that people who have lots of these signs around them all the time would be more "spiritual," and/or mature, too. 
(Though, I am just realizing as I type this, I'm not sure why those two things --spirituality and maturity-- necessarily have to be conflated!) 
But I am realizing, based on some recent experiences, that if someone has this energy signature, they would have things like this happen all the time, even if they WERE NOT on the right path of maturity and growth. The signs could actually be a distraction, in that case, because you think you're getting validation for your choices, when you're actually just getting your normal radio static.

If I'm honest, sometimes my signs and synchronicites have led me astray. For example, I had a vivid dream once where a doctor's name, hair color, and ethnicity were revealed to me, and the doctor was helping heal me. I had never heard of her before. I googled her and found her...someone waaayyy on the other side of town, and set up a visit... and turns out, she didn't help me or listen to me at all. As another example, I had "signs" that I was "supposed" to marry my abusive ex, even though my physical intuition kicked against it, and the logical "red flags" were there (though, to be fair, I hadn't had any training in detecting patterns of abuse, so I didn't know they were red flags...) 
Sometimes the spiritual signs work, but sometimes they don't. Turns out we live in a whirling soup of reality currents that can be maddeningly difficult to make sense of.
As another angle to this revelation, it's also interesting to note that you can can have powerful spiritual soul ties with people, but that does not necessarily mean that you have to keep that person in your life, or that that person is a healthy choice for you. 
I was talking to a friend today, telling her that I was having this budding realization, and the story that brought this to the fore of my attention.  Amazingly, my friend had just gotten out of a similar situation, about 2 years ago!  Her partner was codependent, domineering, controlling, and dysfunctional, but she also had all kind of spiritual signs and synchronicities occur around her all the time.  This was confusing, because it seemed like she ought to be the "right" person, the soul mate, based on all these spiritual things that happened. But she wasn't.  At one level, she used the signs as modes of gaining power over others, and at another level, she used the signs to actually distract herself from facing herself and growing in psychological maturity.  The signs might convince her that she wasn't walking in her ego, even though she actually was. My friend had to learn to let go of the awe and spectacle of the spiritual signs, and make a decision based on what she knew logically to be TRUE.  She shared her struggles, and I related.  
What are the chances? I imagine there aren't a lot of people who have this kind of experience.  It was amazing to get that validation today.  (Which, I suppose, is a sort of spiritual sign, in itself.)

I guess the moral of the ramble here, is that it's important to use your other "epistemological modes of understanding" all in conjunction, and not just rely on one. If a decision makes logical sense, and if your "gut" says yes, and if you get spiritual signs and synchronicities, it's probably a good choice.  (And even then, it might NOT actually be...)  But if any of those pieces are missing, it's not guaranteed you're making a good choice.
And another lesson I'm learning is that it's important to assert my will onto my situation, once I've made my decision about what is right and healthy, even if it violates what seem to be spiritual signposts. Those signposts might not actually be correct.  Just because something grows in your garden doesn't mean it's supposed to be there.  Make a choice, and then be single-minded in that choice.  In my case, I will probably have to keep cutting and clearing any spiritual pulls and ties that try to come back into my spirit from this person, until they stop occurring.

Thursday, November 9, 2017

new understanding

I have had another loss, and this one should not have hurt, because... we weren't even officially "together" this time.  And I saw it coming and knew it was bound to happen. And yet, there was this tiny ray of hope in my heart that maybe it wouldn't happen, maybe things would get better,  maybe it would be different this time, against all odds.

Against all odds.  Ha.  As if I've ever been lucky!

Anyway, it did hurt. And the biggest part of the pain has been not even knowing why it hurt. It shouldn't have.  The story just doesn't make sense. Why do I feel the way I do, for someone so undeserving, for someone who behaved so badly towards me, for someone who is so clearly not a good match? A week ago around the full moon, one of the horoscope writers I enjoy, Jessica Lanyadoo, wrote:
"Instead of tracking all the ins and outs of your stories, you can actually just let it all go. Stomach the discomfort of the unknown. There’s nothing to figure out; you just need to give it your best."  
It was timely advice. I was holding on too tightly to the need to find the story. Make it make sense. Understand.  And I couldn't.  So I rested and coasted for awhile. Letting myself hurt without knowing why I was hurt. 
I even got a very interesting event to underline the message.  I woke up the next morning with a huge, weeping wound on my foot, and I have NO idea how it got there.

(content warning... gross wound picture...)
This was after a few days of healing. It was worse when it first appeared. I joked that I was starting to get stigmata. Ha ha.

It was like, both the heart and the body have to endure pain without a known source.  The only thing I can do is wait for it to heal.  And I felt a deep intuition tell me, "when the foot heals, your heart will feel better as well." 
That's the plan? Just wait?  and meanwhile... self care as best as possible. OK.

However, grace came through, thankfully.  Last night, while taking a shower that served double purposes of cleansing my physical body (through shampoo and soap) and my energetic body (through Florida water, crushed eggshells, and astral light beams), I suddenly had a revelation.  The "story" I was seeking hit me.  At least part of it.

There are always many ways to tell a story, but I suddenly "got" an angle to the story that is helping me make sense of it.  It's only part of the story's entirety, of course, but it's my corner on the truth.

A little over three years ago I moved away from Kansas, hoping for a new start to almost everything. I wanted to make new friends, get better health, develop a new spiritual community, meet a new life partner, start a new job, find a therapist, find a doctor, find an amazing school for the kids, live sustainably, find new ways to make music, and begin the life of impact and purpose and bad-ass evil-fighting I've always desired to live. I hoped to do it all in Phoenix, or at least get a good start.
In the first week of arriving in Phoenix, I met him.  And the hopeful process of starting a brand new life, that conformed to my ideals and purpose, began.  He helped. He supported as I sought friends, the school, the job, the doctors... with varying degrees of success...  He wasn't nearly as supportive as I needed him to be, but it was so much better than nothing.  I took what I could get, even though something felt uneasy about him, and I definitely made some huge mistakes.  But I was making progress toward my dreams.  It was hard, so hard, but I was getting somewhere.  And then.
He couldn't.
He wouldn't.
He didn't.
And then he became dangerous.
And I had to cut him off, to protect myself and my children.

They say that many personality disorders happen because someone's psyche stops developing when a traumatic event happens in childhood.  I think something similar happened to me.  The breakup was traumatic (for both of us), and I see now that there was some sort of blockage that happened in me at that point. My progress toward my dreams stopped at that point too.  Oh, not completely.  I guess I did manage to buy a house.  But it wasn't the house I really wanted.  And anyway, a house is just a thing.  The deeper, meaningful items I wanted to do have just gone nowhere.  Because I no longer had his help, I had to radically alter my schedule and the activities we could participate in, and that sent us on a trajectory I hadn't wanted to go on, and the chain reaction was one of deep frustration and disappointment.

My list of things I want today is the same as the list I had when I moved here 3 years ago.  I have tried and tried and tried to make progress on them, and... yes, there has been some progress, I can't lie... but the progress has been lackluster at best.

The intermediary time from his departure to now has been all about blockages, delays, things not being "just right" but having to settle for 20th best, false starts, dead ends.  It even manifested in my plants.  My pomegranate bush has remained the same size since I bought it almost a year ago, though I planted it properly, and have been feeding and watering it faithfully. The grape vine has remained the same size...same story...  I bought two moringa saplings to put in the backyard, last January... Moringa is supposed to be a dramatically fast-growing plant around here, thriving in the desert conditions. People report 20-foot growth in a single year.  But these two Moringas just. didn't. grow.  They stayed the same height--about 6 inches-- from January through August, when I accidentally let the goats get them.  Even the cat we got for my son's birthday last year has not grown much. She still looks like a kitten, even though she's over a year old.
Kitty's first birthday. That's a tea saucer, not a full sized plate. She should be bigger by now.

Things are blocked! Not growing normally!  Not developing!

The first several months of being rid of him were a relief, since he scared me so much during the break up.  But after awhile, I started feeling haunted by him.  I think that haunted sensation was due to unconsciously realizing my stuckness, and trying to go back to the point of stuckness, in an effort to unstick it.  I think my psyche fixated on him, because he was the focal point of the blockage

Why did the breakup hurt? Because I have been unconsciously trying to heal what was broken and stunted, which has affected literally my entire life since it happened, and I'm seeing HIM as the access point, or object, of that healing. 

And of course, I realize that's too much pressure to put on a person.  Each of us is responsible for our own healing.  I wasn't doing it on purpose, but it was unconsciously creating an unhealthy co-dependent vibe.  (He had his own contributions to that vibe as well, though, of course. But I'm talking about my story, which is the only one I have the right to tell.)

I am not sure if there is more to the story of our connection... Is there a past-life thing? Is it real love, that just can't express properly due to dysfunction?  Is there another chapter in the future?  (Probably not, realistically.)  I have no idea. 
But this part of the story makes sense to me, for now.  I'm grateful for the insight.  It is healing to sit with it, and grieve with purpose, instead of confusion.  My foot is scabbing, finally, and I'm sure in another week or two, it'll be completely better, as will my heart.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

heavy heart

Just noticed an interesting sensation. I can literally feel the heaviness of my heart. It's like a big sopping water balloon heaving around in my chest. Weird.

Make it stop, someone make it stop.

Trying to make it stop is like trying to get to drain the water from the ocean. The suffering is endless, accumulated from hundreds of lifetimes, that I get to process now, but with no point. I measure my days by how many times I cry.  Good days are 1-2 times; most days are 4-5. I'm like a blade in a turbine of a hydroelectric dam, spinning round and round, the water will never stop running, will never give me any rest, and I will never see the fruits of my labor.

So tired of trying to find solutions to these fucking problems. I think I solve a problem, and it comes back in another form.  All these feelings are so familiar. None of my cleverness, insightfulness, resourcefulness, sensitivity, or maturity have been able to keep them away. I escape them in one situation only to find them in the next, ambushing me after building up my hopes, in a cruel game of cat and mouse.  I have fought with every weapon I know to use, used up every last source of strength.  I don't even want to try anymore.

Wednesday, May 17, 2017


Let's say you're a healthy woman in every way, as far as you can tell, but you can't seem to have a baby. You've had 10 miscarriages and 3 stillbirths (carried fully to term, but the baby was dead when born) in the past 17 years of trying. You've been doing everything right, according to doctors, but the fetuses keep dying.  Wouldn't you naturally feel discouraged about the idea of getting pregnant again? You'd consider other options. (Adoption is completely out of the question for this woman for lots of reasons.)

Ten miscarriages. We're not talking about 2-3 miscarriages. Ten. I'm not just picking that number randomly to make it a nice even number. I counted. 
Three stillbirths.  Do you know how traumatic even one is? How hard it is on the body?

Hope is a cruel joke in circumstances like these.  If you found out you were pregnant ONCE AGAIN, that old familiar spark of hope would be quickly drowned out with a dry, bitter despair. It didn't work any other time, why would this time be different? Clearly something is wrong, and nobody can fix it.  Hope makes things worse.  Better not to hope than to have hope make you keep trying and exposing yourself to trauma.  Trauma has serious consequences on one's health. So does lack of hope, but not as much effect as trauma does.

Your bullshit happy phrases and cliches trying to get her to hope again are making it worse. You don't know what you're talking about. You aren't her. You haven't walked this path. You are an idiot. Shut up.

This woman's only choices are:
  1. To stupidly keep trying... Time of death estimate: a few years, from the pain and/or complications of the efforts. Suffering level: high.
  2. To commit suicide... Time of death estimate: soon. Suffering level: moderate.
  3. To struggle through a path that does not involve having her basic need/deep desire for offspring met, but which she compensates around in various unsatisfactory ways. Time of death estimate: 2-3 more decades. Suffering level: moderate.
Best choice is #3. Any reasonable person in the circumstances would say so.

Sunday, February 12, 2017


I can't forgive until you see.
Else forgiveness would be unipolar and insular.
Awareness births acceptance, which births healing, which ripples across reality in waves.
But when the dream rules all the senses, awareness cannot happen.
Sleepwalking, you injured me, and even when I screamed you heard only the music of your mind.
I can't be yours until you are your own.
Not ruled by shadows, ghosts, or fragments of unprocessed lower natures, but by Self-- awake in love, power, and wisdom.
The wound seeks the hand that created it, or similar hands, in an effort to mend the timeline and  the continuum of meaning, with armies of thoughts like white blood cells, reaching backward across dimensions and forward through mirrors and around through telephone lines.
Forgiveness is a miracle that weaves legions of elements into a dense cocoon, from which, if we are lucky, new life emerges. 
The flap of the butterfly's wing doesn't change everything; it testifies to the change that has already happened
...which is the same thing...
It is the simplest thing in the universe, only possible because the most difficult has been labored through.

Friday, January 27, 2017

feverish rant

I'm sick and alone and feel like ranting. Brain is not functioning well right now, due to a fever, so I'll probably regret this when I'm more lucid.

You're still stalking me; I can feel it. It's not a physical or a virtual stalking anymore (I hope), but you're still there. You sent your light body to me once when we were together.  At that time I was able to barely catch a glimpse of it, and it scared the crap out of me.  (I "saw" more things during those days, than I have before or since.  Your physical presence had some kind of effect on me… What were you shedding?)  (I'm also fully convinced that your estimation of your abilities exceeded your actual abilities.)  But anyway, I wonder how often you've sent your light body (or tried to) since the breakup, and maybe I just haven't been able to perceive it.  But anyway, even though I can't see it anymore, I still know you're doing it.  Or you're doing something, at least. Whether you're doing it consciously or unconsciously, I don't know, but something's pulling on me.

Dammit, it's annoying.
Do you know what love is?  You must know somewhere deep down, that if you really loved me you would --at very least-- not want me to suffer. Love doesn't hurt its beloved.  How about respect, do you know what respect is?  Have you figured this out in all your wanderings yet? What's your real motivation, here, have you stopped to look at that?  Do you think you're sending out your stalker vibes for my good, have you really managed to convince yourself of that? Or are you, perhaps, still trying to get your mommy fix? 
Or maybe it's revenge? Revenge. How small.  Are you any better than the God of the Old Testament, oh gnostic one?

OK, now that I've gotten that off my chest…

I realized something awhile ago, which I can't believe I missed during those months.  I was so focused on the Libra moon activating my Mars-square-Sun, I missed the simple fact that it is, first, a Libra moon.  Libra moons don't want to get all mushy and intense and deep and passionate.  Tears ruin your make up, darling.  Keep things pleasant and lovely and balanced, that's the way, dear.  

I'm sorry.  I somehow overlooked that.  My insistence on emotional intensity must have made you incredibly uncomfortable.  My Pisces moon ruled by Jupiter in Scorpio likes to feel.  I ache, and weep, and writhe, and grind, and dive, and gasp at the dramatic, spiritual twists and turns of the motivations behind all those emotions. Lovely and balanced? Pssshhhh. Step into my fractal.

There's a reason inconjunct signs are considered quite difficult to merge.  I feel I owe you an apology for that part.  I didn't recogize or nurture that part of you.  My triggered Mars-in-fall was too busy feeling irritated. I don't even fucking wear make up, you sparkly bastard! 

But! Of course, there's definitely a place for peace and loveliness, and Libra moons are gifts to the world.  It's a wonderful skill, to be able to create that space where we can all take a breath and get some perspective.  We need Libra moons. I need Libra moons. I'm sorry I didn't bring this into my consciousness during that time.

Of course, there are so many things that could be said about that time, so many questions to be asked. So. many.  Huge cans of worms.  I can't run everything through astrology; I believe in letting our forebrains rule us.  It was so dysfunctional in so many ways.  It still makes me sad, the potential, though…  But maybe that's just because you're still pulling on me.  Maybe if you'd stop, I'd stop suffering.

I've started watching X-Files. The original series, not the new ones.  They remind me of you, all your conspiracy theories and stuff.  Can you believe I never saw the show? Maybe you forgot I grew up under a rock.  Anyway, a friend said it's a classic show and I'd like it. And I do… but the episodes are so scary, too!  I might have to take a break, because it's getting hard to fall asleep.  I wish I had someone to cuddle with while watching, to absorb the fright.  I wish I had someone who would listen to me as I point out all the plot holes (every show has at least one!), and who could help me sort out truth from fiction and tell me stories about sociopathic bureaucrats in past lives. Who could work with me to imagine alternative storylines that don't have the plot holes, who could reassure me that I'm safe and the aliens aren't going to come get me, who could help balance me back out so i could get some sleep and not be scared. 

I guess that someone would have to not have addiction problems, first of all, that's a good starting point. I should've checked for that before jumping in. Live and learn.  Oh, and lying is a deal breaker too.
But oops, there go those worms, peeking out of that can…

Even if by some miracle you read this, I'm sure you won't listen to it. Listening was never your strong suit.  Too busy creating your own alternative reality and responding to that instead of the real world.  Was I just a prop on that alternate-reality stage of yours? 
It's SO…
not nice…
when props start having minds of their own and saying things off-script, I'm sure, darling.  Don't you hate it when that happens?  Damned autonomy and shit.  Crazy thing is, you didn't even seem to know you were on a stage; you believed your own delusions. 
Oops, more worms, sorry.

I hope you're OK.  Why I rant now, I don't know, except that I've been feeling you try to pull on me at that invisible, deep level of existence. 
Why do I hope you're OK? Do I care about you? Yes, I care about you, and I didn't want things to turn out the way they did.

I wonder if you'll ever own your part in it.

I want you to be OK. I want everyone to be OK, and I hate being part of someone's not being OK, even if that someone made all the self-destructive choices to get to that state of not being OK.  But I can't and won't take responsibility for your choices. I have to hold that tension of caring for you but not being responsible for you. Hard for someone with such strong Cancer and Pisces. But I think I got this. I just wish I didn't still feel that niggling something down in my bones. Call off the dogs, don't be a jerk, and take responsibility for your own life. I was only reacting to you; own that.

You know, there's a Venus Rx coming up. They tend to affect me, since i have natal Venus Rx. This one will be a doozy, because at the end of the Rx period, Venus will station direct one degree away from my Moon.  Meanwhile, my progressed Mercury is conjunct natal Venus, and progressed Venus is conjunct natal Mercury.  Woot.  I don't know what's going to happen that day, but I've circled the date on my calendar.

Maybe I'll meet someone. Or maybe I'll turn on Skype and you'll be there.  I don't know.  I wouldn't call the cops or anything.  Believe it or not, I haven't found anyone while you were gone. A few dates, nothing even remotely promising.  I'm back to my typical pattern of life being a big zero in the relationships department.

All your elaborate ideas about how I cheated on you were completely fabricated in your own brain.  When I left you, I knew I was stepping back into lonely land, and that's where I've been ever since.  It's the worst feeling in the world, loneliness, but I chose it knowingly, sadly, with dread… because of how you were treating me, and the unacceptable risk you were putting my children into.  Losing you cost me more than just 1300 dollars, you know. There were other losses too, which I won't detail here; a list of losses.  I don't think you appreciate that.  You never bothered to step into my shoes.  But there were a lot of losses, that hurt.  That's how adamant I was, that's how bad I felt the situation was.

Maybe I'm ranting now because the part of me that wants closure wants to know if you ever were able to look into the mirror and see what you did, or if you are still living in an alternative reality in which you were totally right, and I'm a monster.  It would be nice to know if you've ever been able to face that, I guess, to have my sanity and morality vindicated. But I suppose, watching the Xfiles is training my brain to be less needy for closure.  Most of the episodes close with unanswered questions and mysteries that will never be fully solved.

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Accepting and loving myself

I strive to love myself, and most days I do. I love my unique blend of abilities to think, to feel, to intuit, to attract, to act, and to control.  
Think. Feel. Intuit. Attract. Act. Control.  
These are all vital functions of the psyche.  I could wish for a little more in the intuition and attraction departments, but mostly, I am grateful. Everyone is unique, and everyone has a place in the world. I like how I was made. If anyone tries to change me, I react with scorn and indignation.  I am grateful for who I am!

I do wish I were better at releasing the right functions at the right time.  Sometimes I Think when I should be Feeling, or Act when I should be Intuiting, and so on.  But... I suppose... Who's in charge of "should"? It's a matter of using the function at the right time that gets a result that makes me happy, ultimately. But I am not very good at judging which is the right one for the situation, nor of controlling which one rises up, when. It's like each function has a mind of its own and rises up when it wants to. It often produces awkward moments, where I feel out of place with the world, unsure of myself and unhappy with the results. But even this awkwardness, if it is what it is, is how I was made, and I should love it. I'm doing me. And I'm trying to love it.  Maybe I will get more skilled in regulating and controlling all of these functions as I grow older and keep trying.

The function I have been pondering a lot lately is the Thinking function.  It might be my strongest one.  It's my default.  I am very conscientious--I have a very strong sense of "should," and always strive for what is "right."  I have a firm grasp on reality, and a head for logic.  I am critical and skeptical.  I love this about myself. It keeps me honest, open minded, realistic, consistent, and accurate. It sometimes paralyzes me in over-analysis, which can be annoying. And it sometimes leads me to self-judgement and  harshness, which sometimes leaks out onto others as well.  If people only knew-- as judgmental as I can be of others, I'm 100 times more so with myself. 

So, obviously, this trait can be dysfunctional, but it has a lot of strengths, too. I am an excellent editor. I can figure things out. I can create structures and systems that work flawlessly. I can see through bullshit.  I can discuss intellectual ideas.  
To love my strengths is to remove the poison from them, preventing them from becoming weaknesses. Right? So the theory goes; we shall see. Loving myself. It's no small thing.  Because despite how hard I've tried, my life hasn't been what I wanted.

I do hope I can do better than I have in the past to make the most use out of how I was made. Looking back, I think I have wasted a lot of what I was given, even though I always tried so hard. But I can't change that. Only now counts.  I hope I can learn to be as grateful for my past as I am for the present and for my potentials. 

This is why I react so strongly against someone trying to change me, even slightly. Nobody has the right to control me, and nobody has the capability of, or motivation for, scrutinizing my life as I, myself, already do. Nobody could be more serious about improving my life than I already am, and nobody understands the long string of circumstances and choices that brought me to where I am. Nobody knows more deeply than I do, that in each circumstance that arose in my life, I tried my absolute hardest to do what was right. For anyone to presume that they know better, that they can take over my ability to think, is highly insulting.  Maybe I overreact a bit when it happens, I don't know...

I struggle with the fact that I struggle. It's a weird tension between loving what is and working for making things better.  If I love what is, what motivation do I have to notice injustice, dysfunction, imbalance, and suffering, and to use my gifts to alleviate those things? How do I find the resolution between these two things--resting in what is and working towards what should be? 

And then, how can I both love myself and come to terms with the fact that "me-doing-me" sometimes leads to mistakes, pain, suffering, and injustice? When I am harsh with myself, I know that is violence and ingratitude, but maybe me being harsh with myself is also part of who I am. Why would I shut down part of who I am, if I am supposed to love who I am?  How do I resolve this, grow through it, and hold on to love?