What I Can Bring to the Future

These last few years has been a deep dive on who I am, sorting through some muck and deciding what my purpose is to be.

This is a difficult task at the best of times, and it comes at different times in life- it definitely is not something you do once or do flippantly. The deep dive coincided with the onset of Covid. But the dismantling started a couple of years before that.

Part of the trauma/survival response I have is being a people pleaser, a care taker. This is not a bad thing to be, if it is done with appropriate boundaries and not to the point of becoming nothing but a reflecting pool. I learned so much during my dismantling about the toxic nature of my own survival strategies, some I was not even aware of. By the point of realization I was already in my 40s.

Am I healed? No, that continues, and I am sure that it will be a life long commitment on a labyrinth path. I have gotten to the place however, where I really want to refine my purpose and what I can being to my family, friends, community and world at large.

My primary day to day career is massage therapy, a therapist as well as a teacher. I have a couple of things I do occasionally on the side, like custom aromatherapy products and tarot readings too. There is much more to who I am but these are the things I had already been doing out in the world.

Separating my trauma response from my purpose has been tricky, there has been a lot of exploring the ‘why’ I want to do something. Do I really want to be of service or is that a trauma response? Am I wanting to help people or just make myself useful so I don’t get lost.

It has taken a lot of adjustments, lost relationships, changes in friendships and so much reflection.

At first, wellness coaching seemed to be the path that appealed to me most, as it makes great use of my current skill set. So I began to research, it took me to some very scary places. Initially many of the seminars and classes would focus on how to help people and build your message, and soon enough it morphed into how to make a lot of money- why work with one when you can do it in groups? Have a system to sell! Find products to add in. It all very quickly became less about helping any one but the self. It all led to being an ‘influencer’. That is no where near what I want.

The term influencer leaves a horrible taste in my mouth. The engagement most times seems like a sales pitch unto itself, pushing products and easy ‘false positive’ answers. I don’t want to influence you to live like me. I want you to live like the most grounded version of you. Ok with knowing it is not all good, some things are going to suck, but that you have built the resilience to work through those down turns while honouring yourself. To realize that achievements aren’t always in the numbers, wether that is followers, on the scale or in your bank account. To get the idea of how much community is important, not so we can all be the same but learn and grow from the differences we bring to the table. The only thing I want to influence is bringing more creative good into the world.

I also noticed that when it came to the portions of these seminars about finding your target audience that the target all seemed to be generally the same, same colour, age and generally in the upper middle class with the money to afford these expensive programs, the next phase is how to turn those targets into people who do what you do, with the promise of feeling fulfilled while making good cash.

What about those that want the encouragement with out having to break the bank? What about those that want the sense of community where things can be shared, learned and experienced? This is where I want to be.

Not an influencer, not a ‘wellness’ coach, I’m thinking more in line with a wholeness coach. That term seems to resonate more in my soul. So what does it mean?

To me it means taking into account the whole you. You aren’t just fitness, finance or a ‘lifestyle’. You are a person with dreams, interests, a history, trying to find your way to some kind of quality and balance in this life. You want to feel better, more able to handle the demands that life places on you- this isn’t just a matter of taking the right supplement, crushing the right workout or covering with the right cosmetic. This is having the support to create your path, finding the things that will give you the inspiration, stamina and creativity to build your life to suit you. This is about building a community that is there is sit with you on a bad day and clap so loud for you on a good day. About having a coach you hears you, who helps you hear yourself and the wisdom you already have. Having someone who knows there are no easy answers but there will always be away to achieve your best.

I want to work one on one, I want your path to reflect the unique being you are. I want to offer group get togethers for education, sharing of community resources and support, not to have a cookie cutter program thrust upon groups of people.

I have been told I will not get rich doing this. I know I need to have money to live off of, but rich is not my goal. My purpose is to support people on their journey. I want to share my imperfect truth, and accept yours, as we all strive for better. My desire is to build an accessible community that is not one just based on commerce.

Is there an audience? I believe so. Can I find you? Will you find me? Are you ready for an adventure?

Vision of Rage, Blind Faith

People talk as though they long for the good old days- What exactly were those? Women and People of Colour being considered property? But hey a loaf of bread was maybe a nickel! Dying from the black plague? Polio? But hey, the government didn’t mandate what went into your body. Back when you could trust politicians? Yup….. Just as much as you could trust ‘The Church’.

Times were better when we all had god in our lives… was it? Being ruled by guilt and shame is what has created the now. Exorcisms rather than mental health help. Repressing sexual feelings, condemning sexual identity. For what? To please a complete fallacy. Jesus was not white, if we are made in the image of god, then god embodies both genders and by default is two-spirit. Lucifer was only in the wrong because they (remember in the bible angels have no gender) dared question the wiseness of a god that gave his puppets free will.

You are longing for a time you don’t really want.

You would give up in-home plumbing and sanitation? Central heating? Being able to get fresh mango in the middle of the winter? Looking up a map complete with directions, no creative folding required? Your car? Being able to fly to a foreign country in a matter of hours rather than months?

Fucking hypocrites.

All people are longing for is to have their conveniences, self entitlement and inflated self importance to go unabated and unchallenged. Too afraid to really see what’s going on, because, please say it isn’t so, we might have to take some accountability.

Don’t get me wrong, I thing faith is really important to have, the belief there there is something bigger that binds us to all living creatures. But using your ‘faith’ to deny that we have fucked up our chances of a long survival on this spinning marble (fuck you flat earthers, I can’t even go to how stupid that is). Using that faith to condone/facilitate another’s death or denial of existence is grotesque. To use it to selectively deny science that ‘infringes’ on your wants, takes us into another dark age of considering scientists heretics that should be burned at the stake.

I am in a relatively safe place right now, but we are surrounded by Provences and States that are literally burning to the ground. The temperature is consistently high for long stretches of time, drying out the forests, evaporating the bodies of water that sustain us. And what the fuck do I wake up to? Idiots claiming that these fires are set by arsonists. People washing their cars, when we have been asked to conserve this resource as best as we can. Here I am doing my best to keep my veg garden going with using as little water as I can, making sure I am not using toxic chemical that seep into the ground water. Silly me- its a conspiracy, evil coral reefs selling out to corporate America. Damn faulty thermometers pretending the Ocean temperatures are getting warmer. That might hit differently when you won’t be able to get your favourite sushi because the fish dies out.

Looking to history, there was a little thing called the fall of the Roman Empire, we are in the midst of a modern redux. Politics has again become full of bloated out of touch rich twats- modern emperors and pretend titans sucking the ‘lesser thans’ dry. The schism between the rich and the poor is a divide that no matter how large your boot straps are you can’t pull your way out of.

We are so soft with modern convinces that the thought of having to go ‘with out’, even if it’s for the good of all, turns us into selfish monsters. The clutching of the pearls and a collective ‘how dare you!’

I don’t own slaves…. Nope but you benefit from a system put in place by the European conquers.

I have nothing against the LGBTQA community but why do I have to see it everywhere?…..because they exist, and for the last couple of hundred years or so they have been ignored and dehumanized and forced to watch the prevalence of heteronormative culture. Many Pagan, non Christian cultures appreciated, recognized and even revered many of the genders through out the ages. It’s not new, it’s not abnormal, it just is.

Everyone seems to have neurodivergence ‘things’, it’s just ways of people making excuses, this wasn’t a thing when I was a kid…. Sorry again ‘Chad and Karen’ that kid you knew growing up that was shunned, beat up and mercilessly picked, had drug and/or behaviour problems simply had a brain were are now beginning to understand and create workable places for.

I’m sick of hearing about peoples feelings, everyone has anxiety and its a little sad sometimes….. and here we are again, finally recognizing things that we can work on, things that are very real and debilitating, perhaps with hope that we reduce addiction and abuse situations.

Life is uncomfortable. Life is challenging. Life is unstable and fragile. I get that all of this anger, hate and abject violence is simply a reflection of fear. The Fear that we need to, have to change and we have no idea what that looks like. It is challenging all the things we have been told, reflection on the things we have done and showing us what we need to do. But fuck, I don’t want to have to, I just want to do what I want, I have been told that it is my right, damnit!

These things are other peoples problems, it is the ‘others’ that caused these things. This is what happens when you take god out of the situation. No, this is what happens when you’ve been gone from the village too long. This is what happens when you forget that at the core we all need water, air, food, love and to belong somewhere. That each human with the skin stripped away look essentially the same. That in order to live we need the water to be clean, the air to be breathable, the diverse animal and plant life to be sustained.

Our survival depends on how we treat our most vulnerable. Our survival depends on the realization that monetizing everything is killing us. Our survival depends on recognizing the failings in our history and committing to do better. Our survival depends on recognizing our line of enough and be willing to share. Our survival depends on understanding that we can have faith, and that science does not need to be the opposite of that. We need to understand that we need to clean up our mess. What ever God(s) you believe in, something created this delicate ecosystem that sustains our little lives in this vast universe. We should be humbly caring for this, for us, for all of us.

If your god tells you different, if your god tells you a fetus is worth more that the woman carrying it, if your god tells you that only a few are worthy of his love, if your god tells you that you hold dominion over all, if your god chooses wealth over humanity, than you are the problem

If your politician tells you they were chosen by your god be wary of bearing false idol worship, If your politician has an us vs them mentality they are a false leader, if your politician is not receptive to you, helpful to you and only fans the hate in your heart, they are the embodiment of evil.

I am not perfect. I don’t do this right all of the time. I am constantly learning. I am as frightened as everyone else. I am angry too. But I am not letting that guide me to any thing other than making change for a world that I want my child to flourish in, that I want to feel peace in, that I want to experience the magic it holds. I am sad, frustrated, but I am also amazed at the good that is out there. We are surrounded by fires and some people here are opening their homes, offering what they can. Some are changing their beards and gardens to more eco friendly, food producing spaces. There are some embracing cultures, genders, neurodiverse understandings wit grace and willingness to learn, to make different where they can.

You don’t have to understand it, you don’t have to be it- you just have to have the faith in the thing that binds us all.

String Theory

It is a series of threads

Each anchored to me

Reaching out into the world

Never the same direction

At my feet lay the broken ones

Ends frayed, some bloody, some burnt

Others pulled taut to the point of pain

The looseness of a few, tripping me up

The movement of some pulling me along

The rigidity of some holding me in place

Some I can see- some move off into the ether where I can not see, just feel

It’s is a series of threads

Supporting

Letting go

Am I bound

Am I the make up of all theses things woven together

Am I the spool underneath this tangled mass

It is a series of threads

Everyone thinks like this, Right?

The breeze brushed over her skin, like the memory of a long forgotten lovers touch. Leaning back in the chair she closes her eyes, she can’t seem to stem the swirling mass of thoughts in her mind.

Where she was, where she is, where she wants to be. Often in conversation she will encourage others to take a moment to envision the kind of day they want to wake up to. She knows she should be living true to her own advice, and there are days she almost gets there.

But it never feels like it quite gels, the ideas in her head feel like gossamer threads that when she tries to grasp them, they disintegrate.

Her moments of wanting to be silly and playful are met with wane smiles and slightly puzzled looks that gives her the indication she is not ‘acting her age’.

Her job is to be more serious, adult, make ‘big’ decisions, talk of money, chores, politics, parenting and ‘what the future should be.’ She can hold these conversations, be ‘the adult’ for a while, but then the exhaustion of upholding that seriousness sets in.

She wants to talk philosophy, how to change the world, things of creation, monsters, laugh at all manner of ridiculousness and look for the smallest vapours of magic in the trees, grasses and garden she tends so lovingly.

The sun warms her skin, a smile shimmers across her lips for a moment, recalling a memory of feeling the rush of creation coming from her fingertips. The tingle moving from her spine to her skin, electric tendrils making her feel alive, connected. That same feeling she gets when she is witnessing others allowing themselves expression of the beauty they keep hidden. This deep desire to live in this place of passion and experience has led to feeling isolated and not quite anywhere she can fit.

When she was young her intense weirdness was channeled, drama, art, poetry- for the most part never seen. Never seen by the people who are supposed to see her. It became smaller and smaller, until she could tuck that little ball of self into a corner, and she became a reasonable version of something that fits. Just different enough to keep some of her interests alive in the most basic sense, and enough to seem interesting at dinner parties.

Time to shake out of this. There is cleaning to attend to, preparing for the upcoming work week, a garden to harvest.

It’s become harder, harder to contain the thing inside her. She feels it roiling, pushing against her insides. The hum can be almost unbearable. Constantly feeling like she is mentally tucking everything back in. Little by little she can feel it coming to the surface. She knows some people see it.

Taking a moment to sit in the sun like this and not feel the societal guilt of not doing, feels impossible, it is mixed up in the thoughts of should, could, and better get done. Then the thought of getting lost in a swirl of delicious words.

Except not the constant stream of current texts assaulting her phone, push back in the parenting world, the constant power struggle. We love that which can drive us round the bend. Teaching our children to question is brilliant, unless they use that skill on you, when all you want is a moment of compliance. She feels guilty when this thought sashays through.

The words she longs for are ancient, felt, burned into our marrow from the Gods. The ability to paint with them. The act of creation, a world we build and populate. The richness of colour texture and taste. Words that cut deep, words that cradle, that create heat, cold, sex and death.

It pushes harder, her skin burns from the inside, like she wants to shed it, emerge from this shell. The voice that sticks in her throat, is screaming in her head. She wants to be touched, felt, made to feel solid. Consumed by the fire she feels burning inside. To screech wildly from the trees, roll naked in the cool moss, close her eyes and seek moment of stillness. These are the thoughts that go through her head as she is paying bills online.

Her playlist randomly comes upon ‘The Immigrant Song’ by Led Zeppelin. Her eyes drift from the computer, and look faraway. Feeling the cool pommel in her hand, she raised her arms over her head in high guard, ready to bring the sword down hard. The breeze blows past again, taking with it her momentary reverie of another life. Time to finish researching canning recipes.

Aren’t we supposed to become more sedate as we get older? Be content, conventional. Why does she feel so itchy all the time? If she could rip at her skin she would. Just to let out this wild beast who wants to howl in the dead of night amongst the trees. Momentary satisfaction when the tattoo needle pierces, but that only lasts so long. Even though the ink is an acceptable social norm, more that a few who know her have question the high number in such small amount of time.

The sun has passed, she is sitting in shadow, but the heat of the day is still very much apparent. Book in hand she pauses to look at the sky. Signs in the clouds, the Fae and Drake are on watch, a crow calls from a close by tree- the Goddess confirms. She blinks, refocuses on her mystery novel.

What if this thing trying so hard to get out, is not the foreign entity? What if this thing that has been awoken inside her, is her- she’s finally found the fight to break out of the layers that she has put on throughout the years. Is this what is supposed to happen? Does everyone have these thoughts while they are researching new exercise programs? she wonders aloud.

A little consultation of the cards, that can be grounding. She has always noticed when she does read for others- the little piece she never tucked into the corner, they almost always seem to give practical advice. Put away money, get some education, love yourself……. But when she draws her own, she is more than puzzled. Lean into the magic- that makes no sense and gets her in trouble. There is a sigh that moves through her depths, she tells herself she just needs to be more disciplined, better sleep and stop snacking for the sake of the Gods.

Sleep can be a small respite, her internal clock has deemed most nights that 5 hours is good. This body that is not hers is full of pain, it wakes her sometimes. She wants to roar when it gets to her. But now that she is ‘mature’ she has limited her use of the things that numb her. In truth she only partially misses that cotton fuzzy feeling. It stopped being super helpful to quiet the anxiety monsters. In the moment it takes to pull in a deep breath to steady herself, there is a fleeting thought of what she could conjure to take power away from the monster, but knows she doesn’t have the ingredients or the right incantation

As the slumber finally over takes her, she is vaguely concerned that when she wakes tomorrow that the thing shifting with in will be that much closer to the surface, but for that moment in the dreamland she is finally allowed to become whole.

She

I flirt with her

We get so close, I feel her heart beat. So different than my own, it’s sure, steady, strong. She is a warrior. Her stillness is intoxicating, it fills me with want.

I tell myself a story, imagining what it would be like to have that from the inside. To inhabit such a creature, who is all at once wild chaos, yet very much in controlled command.

I flirt with her

I bring her close, we play reveal and I run. Looking at her through the glass, she is brandishing her sword. Ready for battle, ready for play. Her marks show up on my skin to remind me.

Dark swirls, symbols of memory, power and the stamp of ownership. Her voice is power, echoing in my head- my own unsteady as it passes through my lips. Unsure, I bow to that which is around me.

I flirt with her

I want to be consumed. Reborn through her body and soul. Confident, soft flesh, yielding and revealing. Open yet showing nothing to the undeserving. How can we be so different? Yet one

We flirt, each time we get closer to melding, for a moment I see through her eyes, her voice begins to sing through my lips. Fear clenches my teeth, unsure, I bow to that which is around me.

She is moving closer to the surface, her magic is written on me, no longer will she be contained. The most powerful monster to defeat is my own fear. The fear of truly feeling her within me.

Becoming one and losing myself. Unleashing that which has always been, buried under false expectations, wounds and masks of identity. Fear of not knowing her, yet so completely sure that she is what I want.

I flirt with her intensely, she begins to look back at me through the glass. Compassionate wild eyes. A spine of steel. Waiting to embrace me with the strength that has held me through so much. I allow her power to sit low inside me, hot humming passion and rage.

I close my eyes. To feel her. To feel me. The purpose in her breathe moving into mine. The strength of her heart echoing through each beat of my own

We flirt. We dance. We embrace so wholly her ancient power melts into my own passion. Awakening Accepting that this internal affair may burn up life around me The ash affording the new growth

The Tapestry I Wear

Tattoo 11,12 and 13 have all been done over the last 3 weeks. In honour of my 50th revolution around the sun. 11- to remind me of my creative spirit. 12-to remind me that soul rebirth is always possible. 13- are two binding runes, one for wisdom and one for spiritual growth.

This need for permanent adornment of my body started in my 40s, like an ownership stamp. I was determined to strip away all the facades heaped upon me. I wanted to have my story on my body.

There are magical Sigils to help tame my mental monsters and remind me they will never win.

Other symbols to remind me of where I’ve come from, where I am and where I’m going.

I have lived in this body for 50 years. It’s only been the last 10 that I have really focused on physical and mental healthcare, but it has happened in waves.

It’s really only been in the last three I have started to appreciate this body. It has been broken and healed from trauma and violence. It’s has been large, it has been medium and no matter how much I have tried to shrink inside I have never been small. I have birthed two beautiful babies at two very different times in my life and this body feels that love every day. This body has given and received pleasure. This body lives now with varying degrees of chronic pain.

I have given this body over too many times, too freely, in trying to find an acceptance and love I could not freely give to myself. So now every symbol, every picture, every spot of ink that is beginning to cover parts of me is a reminder that this body, this temple that houses my spirit is and always has been mine.

This body as lived through Maiden, it is slowly leaving Mother and intending to gracefully and boldly enter Crone.

I do not know when I will feel this skin tapestry has sufficiently recorded enough.

But it is a story worth telling. It is a body worth loving ❤️

?Me!

What is the body?

Flesh Muscle Nerves Blood Bone

Is this me?

Does it just house what is me?

Spirit Soul Memory Wisdom Love

Is this me?

What happens to the body touches the spirit, soul, leaves a memory

The sensation of love

The creation of wisdom

Not all that happens to the flesh leaves a mark

On the soul spirit

Sex may just set the flesh on fire but not deep longing/love in the soul

The body can be ‘perfect’ and house a twisted broken spirit soul

The body can be ‘broken’ and house in incredibly wise, beautiful, soul spirit

They are temporarily bound together

Each very separate but needed to create the whole

This is me

What is Real in the Mirror

I had someone tell me once that they thought what people posted on social media showed who they really are.

I completely disagree with this. We may show pieces of beliefs, portraying the perfection we desire, airing a wound or betrayal to gather momentary sympathies from faceless people who for the most part don’t really have any vested interest in the outcome. Even in real life I don’t think any of us at any time show anyone who we really are.

Most of us wear multiple masks in any given setting depending on the role we are in and the people we are with.

The closest we get is to when we can drop a few of these masks, is with a person or in a place where we feel safe. There is still trepidation as we have been taught that the masks created are to hide the ugliness and unacceptable things about ourselves. But in all honesty there is no perfection or ugly behind it, we are a kaleidoscope.

Depending on the moment and who you’re with you may drop a particular mask, but the tumblers of your being will roll and fall into place in a particular way. That is the fractal light they see.

This takes a particular vulnerability, that is hard for some, as a mask is easier to navigate.

Masks are solid, smooth, thought out creations. They can be heavy, and locked in place. Perhaps once created for protection and conforming to expectations, now a preformed prison, some resistant to internal change. It is the expected acceptable face.

The colour and pictures seen in the eye of the kaleidoscope will always be subtly different, cracks will show in different places, pieces will fit differently. The colours don’t always match. While we may spin the wheel ( an illusion of control) we don’t choose where the pieces fall.

Trust, that is the hardest part. To trust that the colourful, cracked pieces of you will be accepted as a beautiful moving puzzle. That you will not be harshly judged for what is behind your mask. In order for that to happen you must look at how you judge that on others, and how much you judge that about yourself.

Not everyone is worthy of seeing the beautiful art behind the masks we wear. But allow yourself to treasure your own and know that each person you encounter is not just the mask they are showing in that moment, but a collection of things that are ever changing underneath.

Yesterday was 50- How the rest of the ‘big’ day went

Yesterday I left my story unfinished about crossing the threshold to my 50s. I was feeling conflicted. I had not asked for fireworks or a big band. But I think part of me wanted that.

I had not yet passed noon of the day and conveyed that my feeling about the whole thing was deflated. I should have labeled that part one….

As the day progressed it was filled with sweet messages and unexpected gifts.

After putting the pity party to paper ( or screen if you will) the day began in earnest. A friend knowing I was chilling at home, whisked me away for a decadent cupcake ( for those of you near where I live Crave bakery are the cupcakes you need). A lovely bit of time spent in the cool sun with tea, conversation and cake!!

The best part of it, the part of my brain that was feigning dramatic disappointment in the first part of the day got to eat a little crow later.

My husband let slip there is a date awaiting Saturday night….. but no further details. I would love a clue about how I should dress and how far I need to dig into my closet.

Then we then went to dinner as our little family of three. I did choose the restaurant, a simple one, where we can count on the food being tasty and the three of us ate heartily. It was the laughter of my family filled me most. It seemed like a while since that had happened, but there was much wit and giggles. Back home to more magical treats of another deck of Tarot based on a family favourite movie ( Nightmare Before Christmas for the win), a beautiful dish for treasures duly guarded by a dragon and a cake, while not from my childhood favourite bakery, a wonderfully rich chocolate confection. After the wish candles were all blown out we dug in and filled the sweet tooth craving.

I went to bed loved and content. Relishing the moment where my brain was quiet, the monsters had nothing to chew on. This was the best way to enter 50.

Containment Disaster

I search for stillness

There is fire burning with in

But the noise keeps the heat contained

It’s burning like a fever

To fuck

To create

To run screaming searching for an entry to the Ether

I search for stillness

The fire threatens an explosion but the noise and distractions don’t stop

Embers become white hot

Being dissolved from the inside

So much to get out

Words, feelings, colour

Need to touch, speak, release

This is not living when the spirit is contained ignited and starving for space and oxygen