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May 31st (2021)

The only second opinion I need is from my true self. I know the difference between my beliefs and source-wisdom. Thoughts have been flying to me like birds, and I’m their feeder. I nourish them and can sustain them if I choose. Some of the thoughts are predatory—they can be aggressive towards the peaceful doves. I understand that the birds I decide to feed—dictate the images I will see in the future I’m nurturing.

Adjustments are required in nature to accommodate all of the creatures equally. However, I am okay with neglecting the carnivorous thoughts that devour my peace of mind. I am here to prioritize beauty and peace over flagrant displays of wealth and power. I would rather live a long, fruitful life than sacrifice my youth for a diseased retirement.

I need time to think—away from the hustle and bustle. I have been a person that maintains their inner peace by ensuring that the needs of others are met—This is unsustainable behaviour.

There’s an inevitable clarity that dawns from within when we’re willing to vacate our feeders—These containers that hold peanuts for the bluejays. When I release what’s stored in me, I can take inventory. It can be challenging to see my beliefs from all angles when they’re stuffed in the feeder. My ambitions can drive me. I must not hoard my views like a greedy animal. All of the confusion stems from a lack of empowerment. And all empowerment arises from knowing the truth.

If I didn’t have self-reflection, I would only see the world from a first-person perspective. But when I analyze myself, it becomes a third-person experience—like a bird’s eye view of my life. It’s easier this way, better—because it allows me to get out of my own head and see beyond my blind spots.

Consideration for others is generous, but only taking what you need right now is abundant. I have everything I need right now. It’s all around me and, most importantly, within. Honestly, all I need is my intuition. It doesn’t matter how much air you breathe—it is a hollow experience without truth. Genuine happiness stems from being benevolent—generous to others, and abundant with yourself. I know myself, and from that empowerment, the air becomes prana.

My most profound contemplation requires isolation. It’s easy to get distracted by others, mesmerized by their personas.

How can I love myself when I’m infatuated with anything else? Self-Care is honouring my responsibilities. The body is the mind’s pet, and if I want the next level of possibility, I need to graduate from this frequency level. I need to prove my maturity.

I’ve been obsessed at points in my life—caught up in peer pressure, stuck in traffic jams. I have felt trapped between their bumpers like a slowly moving prison on wheels inching closer and closer to a dead end. At some point, I realized the car is not me. The person in the car is not me either—I am beyond containers—I am the essence of all of my fantasies.

Was I ever really a practitioner of gratitude? Or did I become entitled along the way? Upon centring myself, I know the truth. I choose to be grateful despite imperfections; I make up for the lack with my infinite abundance and generosity. I will lead by example.

May 30th (2021)

The mind wanders—from here to there & from now to then. It can act as a time machine. But the price to use it is that we leave our bodies behind. And that’s why many people sleepwalk through life. Be present with all of your senses. What are you feeling right now? What is striving for your attention? Imagine walking barefoot across a beach. How does it feel to have the warm sands under your soles? The sound of waves gently flowing—this is your resevoir of creativity—and the sands are the grains of time. When you are healthy on all levels, anything is possible. You have the freedom to manifest any dream. Just be patient because stress has many guises—like the pressures we place on ourselves to succeed.

Like lightning striking the beach, we, too, have experienced intensity. No one is exempt from the uncertain occurrences of life. Anything can happen to anyone—until you master yourself. But as we’re progressing, we’re susceptible to unfortunate events. It’s in these moments that we endure crucibles that change us and cause paradigm shifts. These intense moments drive our narratives and develop our characters.

Slow down. All is well here and now. Know it. Be certain. You are where you need to be, and you have everything required to succeed. That exact place where the lighting struck—imagine the crunch as you walk over it. The transformative process has now consolidated those individuated grains of sand. Rather than holding on to what we’re becoming—I want you to undo what you’ve gone through. Be okay with letting go of the past; it is not what you think it is. You have the power to breathe life into rocks and give meaning to the insignificance.

A second chance is always available to us—as long as we are willing to sacrifice the attachments that hinder our progression. Like pruning a tree to encourage new, healthy growth—we must be ready to release any excessive branches or unnecessary offshoots.

Exemplify self-care through not just physical hygiene but mental renewal as well. Every morning, you probably have a ritual, but is your mind incorporated into this routine? The unity of body, awareness, emotions, unconsciousness and soul is imperative to increasing your understanding. How often do you sun gaze? Solar energy is full of information that the organs receive and turn into food. The sun’s light is also pure creativity—once mastered, you can revive your soul’s fatigue. Honour yourself enough to at least try. It is foolish to doubt anyone—instead, know the truth. Why settle with the smell of smoke? The branches are in place; the kindling is beneath; all you need to do is connect the stones to create a spark.

Those clouds may drift and impede our clear, blue sky. But know—that your influence is omnipotent. You are beyond a passenger in this life—You are the creator experiencing your own creation. Flashes of insight imply this truth—throughout all of our lives & lifetimes. The blockages that impede this realization stems from those hardships we’ve endured. To establish concord within ourselves—we must undo the glass back into individual grains of sand. Be fluent, and see the components of everything within & around you.

May 29th (2021)

A traditional way we’re imbalanced is in how much we give and take. How often do you donate your time or money—Is it imperative that you must be an unprofitable volunteer to be a good person? Absolutely not. The self-sacrificing tendencies of religious individuals often leave them with nothing. But there is a high associated self-sacrifice—a sort of cathartic satisfaction. Similar to sacrificing yourself to save the life of another. So in a way, our negative behaviours can trick us into continually sabotaging ourselves. It stems from our beliefs regarding what’s right and wrong.   

To be negligent of yourself is to be foolish. Without your true self, nothing exists. That is why your self-worth is essential to the money you make. Rather than staring at the reflection on the river’s surface—Why don’t you track the water back to its origin? 

Our exhaustive findings lead us to make rash judgments. You will never know enough to decide what’s suitable for another person. Accept this truth to move on, and discover inner peace. 

We are more likely to support someone we take pity on. We give the beggars our coins, but why is it when we feel sorry for ourselves, we expect others to deliver us changes? The situation is the same; you’re still the one with the quarters in your pocket. Give yourself what you need now. Stop waiting for someone to come and bail you out of your own convictions.  

In a perfect world, we’d all support one another. But reflect on who you’re helping now—are the ones you assist adding value to your life? If I spend my life serving a dangerous serpent, and each time I feed it, it grows stronger, more threatening—until one day it becomes so powerful it breaks free and gets the best of me—whose fault is that? How many of us are empowering the things that can harm us?  

It’s time to recuperate and spend your change on yourself. 

Give without expectation. When your joy, gratitude, & benevolence fuels your energy exchanges, you will experience abundance, health and prosperity. 

Even the tallest trees eventually decay. It is reminding us that accomplishment is not the purpose of life. Under their canopies, we see the evidence of how generous they were—receiving light, nutrients & rain, and giving fruit, seeds & new life. 

To live in any extreme is a pledge to overcompensate like a secret coward shield their true feelings with courage. Don’t hide behind your heap of reasons, facades & characteristics. This journey is about endurance and embracing a detour every now & again. It is not a hunt for truth but the realization of where your mind has rooted into the earth. Understand that the Maya is vacant. No matter how alluring a mirage is—it’s still an empty promise. Keep your feet on the peaceful road. So that when you see people in a hurry—you can smile knowing how good you have it here and now. 

May 28th (2021)

Our aspirations are like the clouds we choose to keep in our sky. They have a limiting effect on the overall potential of what we can create. Not all limitation is negative; our focus is a form of limitation. By removing the unnecessary components of life, it is easier to concentrate on what we deem important. Among what we consider the most important—are the requirements of what it takes to accomplish our aspirations. Experiences come and go, and having a clear blue sky is having an open, joyful mind—not attached to any concepts, but liberated. Some people feel empty when they are free of the mental clutter—this tells me that your thoughts are mere distractions. Each thought is like whispers in the wind—you hone in on what compels you—what grabs your attention. Be careful not to become captivated by the thoughts passing through your mind—you are the clear blue sky—enjoying your freedom, joy and infinite potential.

Going for a walk in nature helps us to gain a fresh perspective. There is so much admiration for the accomplishments of people, but how often do you appreciate life itself? How often do you express gratitude for simplicity & minimalism? It can be challenging for this commencement—to start bringing our attention back to our breath. Nature has a suggestive pace—of how we’re supposed to live—when we harmonize this relaxing rhythm, our health thrives. The next chapter of your journey is ready to begin—in this phase, you must be willing to simplify. Remembering the value of laughter—even a child knows. And that ego may have a few words to say—but even your innermost thoughts are whispers in the wind too.

Friendship with yourself is essential. Be your best friend, and treat yourself to alone time in nature. The sight of green foliage and rich natural scents pacify a disturbed mind. Too much time with screens to our face—has our heart rates matched to a stressful rhythm. Our chemistry is altered by the unnatural—conversely, the crisp, cleansing air casts away the conflicting energies. It reminds us of the value of living simply and peacefully. Go on a hike and see. And if you do know, then good for you; your body is rewarding your choices. Smell the fragrant flowers, touch the generous pine trees. Between the scent of its camphor and the rough exterior of its bark—recognize that trees have more to offer than what meets the physical senses. The lonesome, woodsy experience is an undoing process. It is life’s natural therapy. And if you say, “I’ll do it tomorrow,” you miss out on today’s peace. Start now. Go for a walk in the area closest to you—that offers an escape from technology.

May 27th (2021)

If we’re ill-prepared, it’s easy to lose our equilibrium. Because without balance and a mental foothold, we slip down the slope of probability. Conversely, when our focus is centred, and our frequency bodies are harmonized, all of our power is here in the now. If we become detached in an extreme or offbeat way, our behaviour leans towards the eccentric variety. If you find that your behaviour is odd, even for your unique persona, realize that you’re too far back—in your mind—verging on the territory of delusions—or it’s past that, and you’re avoiding realization.

We’re better off wobbling back & forth—at least we’re attempting to find our balance—than to accept either extreme as a status quo. If you have lived your life with constant mood shifts and a short temper, then that means you are overly concentrated—too concerned with the details. Adjusting your focus inward can be challenging; the concept may seem topsy turvy and unnerving. But know that you are perfectly capable of calibrating yourself to the flow state of mind. With this mentality—all things are possible—as you have balanced your consciousness and unconsciousness.

The sheer knowing of your power is not enough. It would help if you exercised the creative & intentive muscles. It can be uncomfortable to unearth the delinquent thoughts—such as buried memories and trauma. Through your desire to improve, we begin by refurbishing our self-worth. Consider surfacing memories, as found footage—as if they involved strangers—including your former self. All of this soul searching will bring you hurdles. Understand that abundance requires you to keep climbing—ascend beyond juggling—you must discover balance and use it as your foundation.

It’s your ability to maintain a level head when you’re overwhelmed that’s most impressive. At that moment—rather than juggling anger & peace—choose peace—This may require you to refurbish your self-worth by re-identifying yourself. What do you consider to be you? Is it your hair, clothes, or hobbies? Is it your beliefs, family, or passions? Understand that each of us endures the echoes of our previous convictions—those emotionally charged thoughts leave a strong impression.

You must be the voice now. Speaking clearly and with purpose. You’re in control of your mind. Command your authority, and tell those previous opinions to quiet down. Through the power of intention, you have the ability to end vicious cycles.
Like a sailboat on a beautiful day, be buoyant & hopeful. The horizon is a tight rope; what it brings is a product of our innermost thoughts.

May 26th (2021)

The inner, soothing waters of your creation have the ability to influence a tranquil state of being. Beyond convenient happenings & fortunate fates. Wouldn’t you love that? To be absolutely blissful everywhere you saunter? Well, that is your choice, it is up to you after all. An oasis is possible in even the most unexpected of places. Forsaken deserts, arid to the point of instantaneous thirst, are still capable of hosting a hidden paradise. I compare this to yourself. Regardless of your rich, well-documented, earth-bound history, you can choose to drink from the imaginary chalice—Replenishing that often neglected need—to create. The longer we strive here, the thirstier we become. The one true quencher is of our own volition. Waiting for it to enter our lives is like birdwatching; you can spend an entire lifetime hoping for a mere glimpse of peace. As its wings gracefully fluttered, landing briefly on a branch, and just as quickly as it came, it went. And in its absence, our hopes remind us of what we’re lacking.

There’s no use in crying over the ocean-soaked pebbles—The ebb & flow dances with our emotions. We each deal with this dance in our own ways, but the worst thing we can do is conform to the masses. It’s your choice whether the waves hypnotized you or not, for the current is our opportunity to discontinue any negative habit. Even fads contain nasty habits, like smoking, drinking, & caffeine. Our upbringings are stories, with reasons & excuses. But at some point, these stories we keep telling ourselves get exhausting—And our thirst for something new propels us forward. Health & healing can be something new. What other people have been doing around us can be something new. Sometimes we rebel in ways that are extremely detrimental to our progress. Maybe we pride ourselves on being different—an outcast or a loner in one way or another. Perhaps this desperate need to be regarded as different stems from our unwillingness to compare to others. Comparing ourselves to others usually has negative connotations, but in the sense of denial, being so far gone in our delusions of grandeur, compare can bring a sense of grounding.

It’s convenient to sit idly by. When we’re thinking of the current as some sort of net, catching opportunities as they drift our way, but that’s laziness using the excuses of an opportunist. You make things happen, even when you don’t realize it. You are your greatest protector, and ultimately you have your best interest at heart. Sometimes we get a little confused about what we want and deserve. We get mixed up, and our emotions & egos charge misguided beliefs about ourselves. If you think of yourself and everyone else as islands, understand that source is the ocean, connecting us all together. We are simultaneously alone, but one.

Open your palms under the palm trees, and focus your intent. Practice every day. The world wants you to become a product of your environment, but understand that you are the creator within your creation.
There is an innate danger to your camouflage; rather than blending in with the wrong crowd, you’re better off standing alone. There’s nothing wrong with being by yourself. It doesn’t make you any less. I think the opposite is more likely true—that people in crowds are usually dependent on others. Introverts are more inclined to be self-sustainable.

In comparison, extroverts can only practice their speeches in mirrors so much before they go crazy. REcognize your need for people; why do you need them? Why are you dependent on socialization? It’s nice to have people in our lives and be grateful for their sacrifices, but what does it cost you? You empower your creations. If anything becomes stagnant and isn’t benefiting you any longer, cleanse it. You have the power. Know it. Think of every issue as if it were a fish and simply allow it to swim away.

May 25th (2021)

Our minds and bodies have become addicted to melodrama. We willingly emphasize dilemma, offsetting our chances to succeed. And for what? To indulge in the theatrics of emotions—To sensationalize the mundane, turning molehills into mountains. There are unaddressed expectations implanted in our unconscious minds. Self-improvement is considered a hassle, but every difference of opinion becomes a heated exchange. 

Most of us have given up on a happy ending. We have settled to embrace the chaos, finding our self-deprecation humorous and entertaining. Overcome this discord. Relieve the tension within you by showing yourself some much-needed love.

Television has set up our minds to admire suspense, even in our own lives—This is a dangerous and slippery slope. Regardless of your earnings, how can it ever compare to that picture-perfect family on your favourite show? They all fight when it drives the story forward and support one another when it’s convenient to pull at your heartstrings. Recognize when you’re being manipulated, separating the illusions from your own personal fantasies. Because at its foundation, everything you want to do is a fantasy. And when we’re living the life we created, that we willingly chose, we say, “we’re living the dream.” At its core, that’s what life is—A dream. And it doesn’t matter the riches you accumulate or the wealth you cherish; it’s all just fantasy items in a dream world.

How quickly that same dream can turn into drama—this is the common point, where the creator looks to a divine form outside of them. But know that when a creator struggles, they must look deep within. Because we are one, and the supremes of this world are all baits to trap you, ensnare you, and take you for all you’re worth. This evening I want you to reflect on any time you’ve ever experienced a craving for vengeance. And I want you to forgive everyone involved. I want you to forgive them, absolve them of all responsibility for the way the situations unfolded. Say their name, make it genuine, I forgive so & so. Savour it, bask in the catharsis of passing stagnant emotions, and creating flow. Then, I want you to forgive yourself because only you are responsible for yourself.  

Forgiveness is simplicity. When we take umbrage, it complicates things; we begin stooping to new lows. Most of us are stuck at dusk, in our hearts, between the eager zest of a child and the pure pessimism of a jaded, old, gray person. But know that the longer you stay in limbo, the more certain your slipping is. Happiness is a choice, and so is everything else. If you dress your mind by what’s in fashion, you will be conforming to a detrimental purpose. Rather than blending in, create harmony within yourself.

May 24th (2021)

Do you believe it to be true that every person at some point in their life possesses the fear of change? If so, where does this reluctance to accept what life is at its core begin? I have seen nature, as it reclaims all of man’s efforts—Like sandcastles on windy beaches. Or even our greatest of accomplishments, inevitably abandoned and decayed. You can take comfort in knowing the truth, that your purpose on this earth transcends material satisfaction. How many of us strive for riches, fame & approval? At what point does joy dictate our actions? It is necessary to enjoy what you do, is it not? And isn’t it ironic that joy is the usual casualty in the machination of human accomplishment? The quest to satiate an unnatural hunger, never inspired but educated like a domesticated dog.

Embrace the unknown; it’s time to let go of the old, antiquated ideas. Make room for new thoughts, like tilling the soil of your mind. Before you even realize it, these new thoughts & inclinations will come flooding to the surface. Nothing is ever perfect, but we must learn to appreciate this raw resource—creativity is the essence of all, and it is capable of any solution. Creativity heals all dis-ease, and manifests every dream. The former, stagnant desires must be shed as if we were trees in autumn. With our permission, our old yearning’s returning is recycled and creates space like the whitening of a canvas or the wiping of a chalkboard. A clean slate and an open-hand mentality will manifest what you want efficiently. Conversely, your ego beckons you to be marking territory, like a dog once again, desperate to be noticed and evoking that basic principle of nature: to envelop.

It brings us peace to let go. But be careful, and keep an eye on your hope, for it’s fertility, leaves it susceptible to the seduction of greed and becoming pregnant with lust. By resting in times of struggle, we learn to conquer the animal’s tendency to go from one extreme to another. Overcome your supposedly natural tendency to oscillate, and figure out how to become productive while in a resting state. This information undermines countless accounts of what apparently works for others, but trust, or trust no one, trust is not the point; look within yourself and delve further than you have ever imagined before. What lurks at your innermost confines is indeed what’s in store for you. Let go of the struggle. Hold on to your intuition’s origin. Like triangulating a phone call, pinpoint the source.

It requires a strong disposition to welcome the unknown. The unrest attempts to undermine your progress, testing your fixation with earthly pursuits. And if after the debris settles & the smoke clears, you happen to stand underwhelmed, then and only then will the mountain’s jagged and scraping rocks carve into a staircase. The earth rumbles like a hungry belly, ready to devour all of the severed souls. The disconnection to your original self begins with a fascination. That is the siren song of materialism, seduction itself, charming the gullible, and catching the once liberated ships amongst the shore’s tumultuous rocks. Although energy never dies, and there’s always time, we must protect ourselves. Flow, and know the truth. Grow beyond the coffin thoughts. Escape limitation by shedding what doesn’t serve you. You are pure potential. Empower yourself with acceptance. Shed denial & ego on the jagged rocks of dissatisfaction; just because you were once caught doesn’t mean you can’t climb now. Every climb begins with discomfort. Exchange the warm hiatus for a jolting splash of cold water to the face. Wake up now.

May 23rd (2021)

Lost; a sudden nudge from afar, within these chamber walls, all sounds become crowded—the ounces of courage run dry, like watching paint crisp beneath a scorching sun. Of course, we were once young, and with rambunctiousness comes feelings of bravery. It’s a bit of a gray area, really, as the silly mistakes pile up. Unwillingly to re-offend; playing a people-pleasing peasant, the restrictions of her second birth are a lot like writer’s block. The clock ticks, and the angst sets in motion the burning of the candle at both ends: Drained & yearning for the world to be adorning, those coveted robes of adoration. Loveless asking, as you’re tasked with passion, oh how we mask with rationality.

In actuality, it’s all uninspired, forced by the animality that squanders wasted talents. Where is the unimagined that releases you from what you fathom? Lost within this depiction, of what really is your insistence. 

Some see the images as bleak, not to speak a word of it to the undaunting daughter. I offer redemption in the form of replenishing the performer’s unsustainable occurrence. You must act in accordance with the overall importance of your origin. It’s organized, when our suffering sings. Not chaotic like a rage so insane that you begin to make sense of disdain.  

Nurture your malnourished heart. Awaken it, like a child sleeping in on a Sunday. Oh, one day, will we light up our own worlds, like the unsung son of our souls. But to do so, we must first realize that the material is devoid of light. It is so desolate without our consciousness that it doesn’t even exist. 

May 22nd (2021)

I’m done with the back-breaking ritual, the one where I slack enough to habitually overwork myself. “Go to work,” they tell; it’s old but stirred enough it doesn’t collect that rancid smell. Unlike the stagnant stench left in a cubicle, look at your fingers; man, they’re chewed to the bone. So much for playing it safe when you’re your own worst enemy, Taking unnecessary risks, dignity lost on spending sprees, shopping lists, killing the currency. Fiscal irresponsibility is an understatement; take a look at what you’re storing in your garage and/or basement. You still got those crutches from when you hurt your knee, but that isn’t the only remnant of a debilitating injury. 

I won’t perjure myself, and yes, I go bible-less; the merger of church & wealth is where I go smile-less. Walking miles in another’s sandals while a mandoline strums the national anthem. Demanding for classics breaks the bard’s spirit. On the verge of becoming a hypocrite and at the precipice of vindication, isn’t it humorous that the toil joins our vacation? If that isn’t indicative of patience wearing thin, I don’t know what is. We’ve always been told to take a number, wait in line until souls spread wings.  

Earthly merchants with a penchant for rinsing the crimson off their cold hands, surely the cure isn’t mentioned in this mission to lessen the restrictions against misunderstandings. Surroundings; our innermost brand thinks, like a trademarked shame, copyright infringement every time you claim it as your own. So long to the commodity of kindness, replace it with a carrot & a stick. It’s tense enough without the insinuation, but now there’s a full-blown commentary whispering behind faces. Emptied employees told to keep their heads down and their problems at home but also turn that frown into a grin for what’s at the end of that stick’s rope.   

May 21st (2021)

The slices of possibility breaking through our blind spots, causing friction with all we’re not. Strife is like a fishing rod, reeling in the unbound souls; appealing are the dreams that capture us whole. Dangling a mangled compromise, are we really dancing with this entanglement? The strangers we always were, but we used to be so sure, called the friendship precious. A message in a bottle, commanded by the tyranny of lobotomized oceans. Are they hypnotized or under their own volition? Starving vacancies, drained by autonomical interactions, isn’t it magical when our chemicals cause reactions?

What is distance? But the persistence of space. Make a wish kid before the candles melt & waste. I smelt & tasted my childhood, up in clouds like a neighbourhood bonfire. Are we ever victims or just really great liars? Tape & pliers, attempting to apply pressure to the mental weather. Trash, treasure & traitors, it’s up for debate whether the aether is space or beyond time, places & shape. I know that some can’t relate, and maybe that’s a good thing, that there’s distance & wait. Recognize that the joy you bring is extraordinary in its own way. Remember that the next time you sing, think of it as work rather than child’s play.

Yes, you got that zest for life and enough pep to step through time. Loosen that grip to unconfine your mind, and let the lemon rind shine.
The wise wear their skin, while the fools hide behind their garb
Understand freedom is within, and you’re either the victim, the freeman or the prison guard.

May 20th (2021)

Occasionally, even the most benevolent of creators encounters cruelty. Whether it’s directed towards them or they’re the ones inflicting it isn’t the point. The fact that any of us is open to the unexpected challenges of the universe at any given moment is a cold truth we must warmly embrace. Otherwise, we could waste our lives dreading malice rather than seeing the purpose of malevolence. I know some of you are confused by that last statement; let me clarify. We view social injustice as a manmade misfortune. Think about cancer and how we blame others for its presence; we link what’s going on in our own body to something way beyond ourselves and the realm of our responsibility. I understand that the welfare of others is important to you, but only you and your thoughts can cause you harm, malice included. The truth is: when you have scrubbed your consciousness clean and truly accepted every aspect of yourself, malice will not faze you. Malice is a mosquito, and true-self realization is insect repellent.   

If you wish to attain this level of honesty, then prepare for isolation. Toughen your mind to endure criticism, but understand that it’s a temporary endeavour until you’re out of the thicket. Once you’re through this unbeaten path, and you chopped your way past the wilderness of your unconscious mind, you will finally reach a forest glade. There will be open skies, as far as you can dream, and distant mountain peaks reminding you how much you can achieve. But what really separates the mere dreamers from active creators is the wading pool of self-reflection.

It was simple for some to overcome their own various forms of inner malice and self-persecution. But they are still possessed with the idea that they’re becoming something in the world, rather than undoing the world’s echoes within their own mind. Don’t get me wrong here; you are improving in the sense that you are getting to know yourself better. But it isn’t your earthbound self, and you can rest assured that even the best, most capable creators struggle with this aspect of their identity. That’s because the world’s guidance has blurred the natural divisions between your thoughts and the beliefs that have been stored in you. Now, you have embossed what was initially theirs and made it your own, but understand that no matter how glossy the pyrite is, it’s still just fool’s gold.  

As you stroll over the mossy terrain surrounding these reflective inner waters, you may notice a bossy voice compelling you to do stodgy things. It is very common for people attempting meditation to be suddenly concerned about minuscule promptings, such as, “Did I leave the oven on? I wonder what I’ll have for breakfast tomorrow? I hope tonight’s plans will go well,” and so on. To properly achieve stillness and silence, we are required to gladly renounce our earthly form. We are rebalancing the scales by adding some much-needed attention and self-care to our inner worlds. Many of us are lodged between what we yearn for and what we ought to do. And it would be best if you held yourself accountable for that. Try your best not to blame others for your station in life; all it’s amounting to is a self-destructive fallout. Love everyone, even the malicious people, and love yourself enough to carry on through the thicket to those self-reflective inner waters. I trust that it’s within all of our abilities to succeed on all levels reaching complete victory.  

May 19th (2021)

With an open-hand-mentality, you can accomplish great things. Let me explain: by treating your mind as if it were your cupped hands, imagine them filling up with your most quenching dreams. Imagine everything you have ever wanted, even what you may have given up on, filling up your hands. Now try your best to keep your grasp open to the various possibilities of how these items may be presented to you. Visualize them, and offer peace in exchange for their manifestation. The yearning is a trap; it keeps us struggling, striving, and barely scraping by. However, make use of your overflowing potential by watering those peaceful white lilies because one day, sitting on a lily pad, under the blossom, amid motion, will be your manifestation awaiting your awareness. Some silly fads may sway us now and again, but know that your power to nourish hope into substance is constant.

Some fear the necessary sacrifices to water their hope. It would help if you relinquished the stagnancy and exchanged it for flow, like turning marshland into a monsoon and dancing in the rain. You may turn heads when you’re unusual; maybe you’ll catch someone glancing like you’re insane. But when skies are grey, learning to be your own sunshine will benefit you more than lamenting with the naysayers. Forgive them; they don’t know any better, and from the muck, rise out of the swamp to prosperity. I wish it were that easy, but obviously, the best things in life come with practice, patience & commitment. Our current plateaus challenge us; it’s kind of like a bottle episode in a TV show. All of the characters are in one place, and they’re stuck there until they resolve the climatic issue. I guess it’s also like an escape room, and the only hints are based on your inner knowing.

What I’m saying is to focus on yourself. It’s very redundant to get caught up in what the world believes. And it doesn’t require much to wear down the frequency barriers, protecting the risen from the fallen. But know this, that even though discouragements will head your way once in a while, the only real hindrance to your safety are the decisions you make.
With what are you filling your cup? Because that thought is what you’re materializing into your experience. The allure of a lotus flower is that its destination is irrelevant to its birth. That thought fills our cup up with the hope that there is still the potential to change things in our favour.

Through clouds of doubt and your ever-present awareness, the sky is limitless and blue. It truly becomes easier to enjoy life. The horizon is always out of reach though, ensure that this isn’t where you store your dreams. People prefer to look forward, plan, and attempt to control every aspect of their manifestations, but remember to loosen your grip and keep an open hand. Be present, there’s so much information streaming through our consciousnesses every day, and it serves our best interest to mandate self-care. Shut down the electronics once in a while, take the time to experience the natural world. When you do this, it is you appreciating your own creation. Be grateful for who you are, & get out there and collect your dreams.

May 18th (2021)

How do we navigate our avatars through the seductions of materialism without losing ourselves along the way? In a world where shadows play tricks and our echoes reinforce the deception, how do we break free from these chains that keep us shackled to disillusionment? Now is the time for us to empower ourselves, to put our creative-conscious-energy above all else. You need to know that all is one. If you look away from the trickster, away from your own shadow, through your blindspots & self-deception, you gain enough strength to look further within. Don’t stop at the rocks; keep digging inside yourself, pulling out all trauma & burdens. Beneath the sedentary layers of your innermost beliefs, unearth & discover the flowing river of knowing.

This inner river within you has the power to put out any fire. Whether it’s from desire, anger, conviction or pain, know that those soothing waters are available within you. There is no higher power outside of you, only liars & deniers that insist otherwise. The realizers of truth would rather silently advance than jeopardize their progress. Because they know that all is one, and even them getting ahead is serving the greater good. It benefits us all when even just one of us raises our frequency. And when you take pleasure in other people’s victories, you will know whether or not you’re mature enough for this frequency-climbing journey.

Their gauntlets collect dents as they strive to protect their grasp. But we must be dauntless enough to let go of the jaded facade. All unnatural things become faded in the sun, bleached by the beams of consciousness. Everyone’s denial of this fact is on a waitlist to be scrubbed clean. At this rate, the sandcastle will return to the beach so fast, like the bait & switch of a captured bandit. We all had envisioned ourselves less tragic, and we assumed to be blissful. But don’t forget the fact if you uplift yourself first, & then other people, and genuinely listen to the simplicity’s advice then, and only then will your brilliancy shine time and again.

May 17th (2021)

The anticipation for our dreams to manifest can cause emotional constipation. Rather than waiting for opportunities to appear each day, take the time to do creative visualization. Imagine what you want in vivid detail until it’s so realistic it feels as if it’s happening right now. Daydreaming is like a laxative for stagnant emotions. I am aware that life can be discouraging, and sometimes we doubt our power. I want to help you understand that unfairness doesn’t exist, and you have either consciously or unconsciously given your consent to everything that has transpired in your journey. You are the creator, with your thoughts, imaginations & emotions.

Find bliss beyond your memories and expectations. These detours from peace cause stress & tension. That aforementioned anticipation is a hindrance to finding bliss at this moment. Do you really want your joy to come with stipulations? Like requiring the completion of your goals?
The tirelessness & persistence that derives from having a clear sense of purpose always overcomes the inherent challenges of any goal. Always know what your motivations are. Conversely, when you’re unsure why your aspirations are driving you, or you’re blindly yearning for something, the inevitable pitfalls have a better chance of discouraging you.

The reason inspirational people encourage others with their persistence is because of their clarity & simplified desire. They are not seeking to accomplish, but rather are already living as if they have achieved their goals. If we let our hunger define our motives, then our results will fluctuate. Most would admit that they want consistently positive results, and to do that, we must detach from all urges; we must master our thoughts. The mind & body are separate; they need to be clarified. You need to know where your body’s sensations, urges & compulsions end, and your thoughts and self-control begins.

Most people in a funk are confused. They have no clue how to get out of their slump. They treat their mind like a dump, filling it with the world’s issues & junk. It’s no wonder why diseases are so rampant and on the rise. As creators in animal bodies, our greatest blunder is that we give too much of our potential away to the material world. Schedules & deadlines become a crutch for us to depend on, and eventually, we rely less on our own intuitions. To say we’re doomed is a bit much, but we must follow that inner, silent hunch. Look within; its soothing request promises peace. However, you must be willing to sacrifice the self-imposed limitations of your unconscious mind. When we analyze our crooked perspective and untangle the uncertainty from the knowledge, we transcend the spectrum of duality. From the lowest trench to the highest peak, enjoyment is beneficial every step of the way. It gets easier to feel joy the higher you rise.

May 16th (2021)

All governments, politicians, and bureaucrats are materialistic in the sense that they have zero control over your mind. No entity has authority over your thoughts, except for your original self. And since the mind dictates all matter, once you master your creative-consciousness, you are liberated from anyone’s political agenda. The world’s news doesn’t apply to you; as a stand-alone creator, it is irrelevant. It’s up to you whether or not you rebel against your best interest or leave the confusion behind.

Traditionally we’re herded like cattle, and even the encouragement of our friends is conditional. The vantage point over this cold machination is lonesome & liberating. Despite feeling like a stranger in a strange land—the climber gains a sense of home within. The abandoned despots are powerless without your fear. I want you to reflect on your inhibitions. Why are you giving your power away to these people and their detrimental regimes?

Only when we begin to dissect the denial away from our inner answers can we come to gain an honest glimpse of ourselves. After permitting the disintegration of our facade, only then can our integrity to our original self prosper. I genuinely wish it was as easy as I make it seem. But the resistance generated by the restless sleepers is staggering. I want you to know that life doesn’t have to be brutal. It can be beautiful, and the universe assists you when you’re benevolent.

Unlike the people in your life, the matrix is neutral. And even the interactions improve when you raise your frequency. It’s hard to explain, but the goal isn’t controlling others but mastering your body, mind, emotions, beliefs & creativity. Everybody is creative. Every. Single. One. I don’t accept the whole malarkey that only some are creative or artistic. We all have emotions; therefore, we all need to express ourselves in constructive & creative ways. I challenge your preconceived notions of what art is and ask you to refine your considerations.

Conditional love is all around us. But maybe that’s just a reflection of our limited approval of ourselves. Honesty is a requirement to advance; you will excel in life when you expose your weaknesses. You can get pretty far based on your strengths alone, but you get even further when you work on your shortcomings. Trust me. Eventually, you will get tripped up if you’re not well-rounded. The universe is absolutely incredible at weeding out the pretenders from the real deal.

Defiance is unnecessary. All is one, and you’re only hurting yourself. Rebellion doesn’t stand for anything; it’s in opposition. Like competition driving the weak, when we take away the other side, are you still motivated? No, not at all. See what I’m trying to say. Why spend your life finishing other people’s sentences? Speak for yourself. Be independent in thought, unaffiliated in the belief that you are amazing and capable of anything you set your beautiful mind to do. The seclusion of being this level of unique causes us to progress in impossible ways when toxic people surround us. Truth be told, you’re better off on your own than to even spend one more day with a nagging, discouraging, downer of a person. Liberate yourself!

May 15th (2021)

The resilence of the human-animal is due to the fact that it’s a vessel for our creative consciousness. That’s why trauma is such a hindrance to our strength because it inhibits our awareness. When we abandon the notion that the physical is all we are, we can begin to heal. It would be best if you eliminated the spite directed towards yourself, never to feel maliciousness again. Overcoming these obstacles is easier said than done, and it’s tacky when people downplay the inherent difficulty of raising your frequency. I consider the life coach, sadhguru, motivational speaker racket to be a prominent scandal against misguided creators. The relentless education from megalomaniacs & deceivers sets their students in motion. Their search for the truth sends them down rabbit holes, as their chances spoil, and all their toil yields disappointing returns. The grace of a benevolent person is undeniable, and their elegance leads by example. Unfortunately, that is infrequent, and most people are susceptible to pompousness; the spell of an arrogant person enchants them.

May 14th (2021)

When we become estranged from our original purpose, lines begin to blur. Things that we were once sure about begin to obscure behind clouds of doubt. This inner murkiness can only be rectified by us being interested in our infinite identity before birth. We inevitably deviate from being in control when losing sight of why we’re here on this earth. Many people argue and are prepared to die for their secular convictions, but how many are supportive and eager to nurture their assumed rivals. The majority’s support is conditional and received easier when you’re placating to what they already believe. The true masters of their subconscious minds know that their beliefs have a treacherous inclination. It’s rarer to find a beneficial belief than a genuinely supportive person. That’s why if you do find someone that willingly encourages you, increase that person’s presence in your life.

The integration of love into our hearts momentarily lowers hypertension. For as long as we prioritize it and make it a focal point of our lives, it has therapeutic effects. If an angiogram could evaluate emotional blockages, we would have undeniable evidence of what is the greatest hindrance to our communities (hate, unforgiveness, envy, lust, greed are all poisons.) My goal is to travel the world and experience each country, savouring their ways of life, viewpoints & flavours. That being said, I have journeyed to India and witnessed firsthand what is required to create a community that supports one another. Without keeping track or tallying favours, but selflessly serving to contribute to a greater good, their communes benefit. So many social institutions fail to replicate India’s sense of community because western systems lack humility and genuine selflessness. In the west, charity is usually personal gain in disguise, but in the east, below their common purpose, everyone is generous & willing to participate. However, they also consider themselves inferior to something outside of themselves. So ultimately, they never exceed the situations in which they’re born.

In the western world, people strive to excel beyond their birthrights. They always desire more, and there is an excessive amount of entitlement and self-preservation. Conversely, the eastern-obedience gives all of your power away so that there’s nothing left for the individual to thrive. There’s a benefit to balancing our humility & entitlement. When they’re balanced, an individual can transcend their heritage and be a part of a supportive environment. When overly humble or excessively entitled people live their life, their extreme beliefs beckon tumultuous experiences. The western-machiavellian tactics to get ahead burn bridges, create toxic relationships and harmful working environments. There are many self-help & how to get ahead in business books that aren’t just riddled with typographical errors but are full of downright fallacies.

It doesn’t matter where you were born or where you have been; it’s possible to end up on the outside looking in. We can feel locked out, ostracized and abandoned. We can feel like the warmth is aloof, as the cold unknown welcomes us in. Maybe we’re seeking our family’s approval or longing for a friend’s acceptance. The truth is that only you can be the locksmith to your heart; nobody has a key for you. First, you must love and encourage yourself by analyzing every motive that crosses your mind with a fine-tooth comb.

May 13th (2021)

Look at yourself the next time you feel the urge to criticize someone close to you. Reflect on those words, that accusation. Put your money where your mouth is, and ante up. Practice what you preach; actions speak louder than words. What’s your purpose? Who do you serve above all else? The world is in your hands. Stop giving your power away. Relationships can be time-consuming and exhausting; they require us to be patient, diligent, & agreeable. But it’s the same as a soul’s journey through space & time. There is nothing more important than your connection with yourself. The union between consciousness & creativity governs what you manifest and how you interact with others. Looking within can have drawbacks like dwelling in the past. Indulging in self-fulfilling prophecies and woe-is-me attitudes can have serious ramifications. Our choices have chain reactions, and our unconscious holds us accountable.

Yeah, we can get caught up in our inner web. We begin constructing an unconscious labyrinth from birth. Like a rodent in a maze, the cheese is liberation; harmonize your innermost thoughts & beliefs with truth. As humans, we love our celebrations, but our impatience jeopardizes the real victory at the height of euphoria, this level of consciousness demands sobriety. We must relinquish every form of intoxication, every toxic beverage, every caustic emotion, every razor-sharp thought that slices at our peace of mind. Turning your back on this desperate need to celebrate & belong will alter you. It will provoke you to grow, to mature beyond the susceptibility of peer pressure. Protect your mind at all costs, especially by sacrificing fake friends. Not all serpents slither in the grass; some have made their way into your homes. Again, I speak of this often; you must focus on what you want. See past the education, and return to your inspiration.

When you’re alone, you’re prone to ask questions. The former version of yourself that you are trying to shed will be tested. You will experience significant discomfort as your mind expands & the ego is subdued. But this is a blessing in disguise; not all comfort is good. Some of our pleasures have become corrupted by our relationship with our true self. We begin to identify with the creation rather than see ourselves as the creator of our experience. It is easier to blame something outside of ourselves, which is a ready-made excuse to alleviate us of all responsibility. Yes, it is easier, but also more brutal as well. In the lowest frequencies, where the denizens willingly pollute their minds, there is no forgiveness. Cruelty develops between them and their true self. Eventually, the connection to oneness severs as the body becomes a soulless shell.

When waiting for the fruits of your labour, remember to look within to find everlasting happiness. All fruits eventually rot, but once you realize you hold the entire world in your hands, your happiness sheds the conditions of mortality.

May 12th (2021)

Keep your eyes on the prize. Sometimes the tide rises. What’s in store when you’re unsure? How do we move forward & find a way out of here? Fearless or brave, do I gain courage or remain enslaved? Balance is a dance between rigidness & flexibility. It requires us to sacrifice what no longer serves us in order to sustain our true self. The dance can be strenuous & disheartening, especially if it requires us to abandon what we’ve grown attached to, including friends, family, sentimental objects, bad habits, and any & all detrimental influences. Setting priorities is essential to establishing balance. Because without an intention, there is only going with the flow. However, if you’re looking to row your boat in any direction, you need to be wise with your effort. Depending on the circumstances and the asymmetry of your situation, you must be willing to make up the difference with your creativity.

What are you waiting for? Sometimes life has been drastic enough for us to seek refuge in our comfort zones. We sit idly by as other’s successes goad us. But that’s another challenge, to be happy for them. Understand that their displays of affluence are proof that it can happen for you. Get excited, forget jealousy. There are more reasons to smile when you raise your consciousness. Most people get good at juggling. They set their priority list for their days and nights. They scrimp & save to make it by barely, to make it out alive rarely. That’s devastating, but just because it’s their cross to bear, their routinely-made mistake does not mean it has to happen that way for you. You are unique. You are an oasis in a desert. So remember, when the thirsty are drawn to you and your water supply, focus on what you supremely want and sacrifice the guilt that keeps the self-righteous from being fully liberated.

The artist waits for inspiration to surge. To some musicians, its arrival is like lightning, striking only once. One-hit wonders, hesitant painters, frustrated writers—there is no limit to the threat of drought. Composers lose composure, painters bottle their pain, and writers can’t right any wrong. For our creative reservoir to dry up is a danger to our self-expression and our entire life. So how does one go from waiting to creating? How do we stop sitting on our hands and pick up our tools with genuine fervour? Fake it until we make it? Do we play pretend? Like all the other old children playing dress-up & house? We must conquer these organic vehicles. Remember you are the driver; it does not command you. A creator can never accept being a mere passenger, for that mentality undermines your abilities.

May 11th (2021)

Rise above it—beyond the uncertainty, frustration and need to be understood. The betrayers will never appreciate you down there, but when you climb up out of the gutter, all those same people that doubted you will pretend they’ve always supported you. They will strive to claim you, to have some hold over you. But truth be told, we exist in many worlds that appear as one. The fact that unsophisticated masses believe the world to be so rudimentary is indicative of multiple dimensions. Think of Hollywood movies, how there’s a stoner character that’s paranoid. And that person is spouting off conspiracy theories and paradigm-shifting concepts that go over the average person’s head. But the audience feels confident knowing that these thoughts are coming from a nobody in the story. They are conditioned to hear those same ideas and think “paranoia, stoner, nobody” rather than think outside of their comfort zone.

May 10th (2021)

Our journeys begin before we realize. From the sweeping darkness to the boisterous light, once-still waters are now rippling. Upon ageing, the journeyman saunters over towards the river’s edge. Little do they know, yet, for the understanding dangles overhead. Gazing at the water’s surface reflects our inner commotion. Not all can stomach the taste, but some swallow their pride.

Concerned with the ground up, but focus on the point you’re trying to make. The mountain’s peak teases from a distance, experience the burning of yearning. Our aspirations match our personalities. Is it all a dream or an implanted memory? Hold on to the fantasy more tightly; soon, we shall see what’s the fallacy.

Where teardrops end and pages wilt, I write these words, as empires built. If nothing lasts forever, what’s the purpose that overcomes feelings of worthlessness. If running ends up in the same place we were trying to avoid, how do we genuinely replace this void? I know you’ve felt it. Experienced the emptiness, the lack of satisfaction a hound gets. We must learn to feed ourselves, forever tempted to rebel. But that’s not the answer; it’s inside ourselves. Look within, beyond the wreckage of the past. Deal with that trauma before the home becomes haunted.

Light the way with your illuminating vision, but that same sight makes incisions. Sliced deep within, to be free, one must shed indecency. Let me clarify; it’s not enough to simply defy the chaos; you must gain control. Take reign, establish hold over the confusion. The tempestuous ocean can be broken like the spirit of a stallion.

May 9th (2021)

Teresa leers through the half-open blinds of the dining room window. The divided light leaves stripes of shadows across her face. She watches as one of the landscapers kneels on her bedding of assorted flowers. Teresa lashes out, “Are you kidding me!?” She clicks her tongue and begins storming towards the front door. Her elderly husband grabs her arm and insists, “Now, dear, we’ve already burned through countless gardeners. Are you sure you want to fire this one too?” Teresa meets eyes with him, her face unable to emote due to the excessive plastic surgeries & botox. Again, she clicks her tongue, rolling her eyes, sighing, “Fine, apparently subpar is good enough.

Teresa’s husband is much older than her; he had his supper in the late afternoon and laid down for a nap before the evening. She relied on this routine to regulate her compulsions—the ones that she feared her husband would find unacceptable. She was often taking advantage of the landscapers, abusing them for her entertainment & pleasure. Depending on who is available, she decides how she will have her fun. If the gardeners were attractive, she had her way with them. If they were ugly, she forced them to fight. Teresa’s Saint Laurent stilettos tap down on the front porch’s white-painted planks. The closest landscaper slightly raises his head, continuing to work, his pace increases. She steps down the stairs and strolls around the yard—eyeing up today’s variety of labourers. She wonders to herself, “Will I make love or war today?” As she strides past the workers, none of them make eye contact; every single one keeps their faces buried in the task at hand.

Teresa, at first, enjoys their discomfort but quickly grows tiresome of their reluctance to play. She approaches the lavish fountain in the middle of their driveway. A noticeably more seasoned worker is maintaining the fountain’s pump and cringes at her arrival. Her shadow covers his face, and he stammers, “H-h-hello ma’am, I hope y-y-you’re having a wonderful day.” He nervously smiles and nods. She relishes his suffering, grinning, “Are you ready to play?” The aged gardener grimaces & grovels, “Oh, please, ma’am, today has been very humid, and there is so much to do.” Teresa is unimpressed; she doesn’t like when people tell her no. She refuses his objection, removing her Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses and gazing into his soul. The old landscaper twitches and submits to her request, “Okay, I’ll let them know.” Teresa smirks and indicates her gleeful approval.

Her husband is the breadwinner; she is “That raunchy Gold-digging-succubus,” according to her sisters-in-law. And despite what most people believe about what it takes to succeed in this world, he did everything benevolently. He was a peaceful man, and that’s why it was so shocking to find out who he had married. But Teresa was cunning and incredibly adept at hiding her ugliness from him. His swollen feet step down the stairs, holding the railing to alleviate his left hip’s arthritis. His gray hair messy from bed-head; his custom-fitted silk royal blue pyjamas rustle as he walks to the kitchen. While pouring himself a glass of orange juice, he sees Teresa exiting the gardener’s shed, readjusting her undergarments beneath her skin-tight dress. She walks towards the house, seconds after a young, muscular landscaper leaves the same shack and follows her. The husband narrows his eyes as he considers the most likely of explanations.   

The next day he finishes his breakfast, reads the paper, downs his coffee, and has the help bring around his electric blue, 2022 Porche 911. He hobbles down the front steps towards the purring engine. He notices that one of his helper’s eyes is blackened. He asks with genuine concern, “Oh my, what happened there, son?” The worker’s eyes shift, avoiding eye contact as his head stoops. Teresa’s breadwinner asks again, “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

He hurries back into his home as fast as he can for his advanced age. His voice thunders from the foyer, “Teresa! Can I have a word with you?” Her ill-prepared, unmade-up face cowers behind the second-story banister. Teresa replies in a snarky tone, “What?” He turns and signals someone to come in; he says, “Come here, boy, it’s alright.” He shouts, “What happened to this boy’s face?!” She slinks forward over the railing like a boa constrictor, her expression attempts to fake surprise, “Oh wow, I have no idea.” He snaps, “Save it! He already spilled the beans. Do you know what you’ve done?” She runs down the stairs, explaining, “No, you misunderstand; I was vetting them to see how trustworthy they are, to protect you, to protect us.” He cringes, “I can’t even look at you.” He swats her away as he turns his back and staggers out the front door.


Over the next couple of months, they began their tumultuous divorce. Every step of the way, Teresa took it upon herself to make the situation more difficult & dramatic. Eventually, her husband forced her to sleep in the guest house. The moon has completed her dance twice, and she’s ready for her final act. Teresa is disorderly, her hair is rumpled, and her make-up is applied more carelessly than usual. She hauls her soiled clothes over to the guest house’s laundry area. Teresa, spoiled & sheltered, had no idea how to work the contraption. The washing machine displays an error message, and she cries, “Oh what now!? You gotta be kidding me.” She kicks the front load washer and collapses down on top of it, noticing a landscaper walking past her. She hesitates, remembering her husband saying, “And you better stay away from the workers; they are not your personal playthings. Stay away from them. Don’t look at them. Don’t talk to them.”

She whispers, “Pssst,” to get the worker’s attention, but it’s a feeble attempt, and the worker walks away. Suddenly a jovial gardener sneaks up behind Teresa and startles her. He laughs, “How can I help you, senora.” Her nose wrinkles and nostrils flare, but when she turns and sees him, her anger diminishes. She considers him good-looking, holding out her hand for him to kiss, and says, “It’s senorita now.” He kisses the untanned band where her ring use to be. She cackles, bites her lower lip, and seduces the chiselled gardener. They flirt back & forth until she invites him into the guest house for a cup of tea. After sipping the last drop, he declares, “Well, I ought to get back to work, now.” A dismayed Teresa pleads for him to stay, but he insists. Days pass as she anticipates his return, but she grows impatient with no sign of him. Then it happens, one random day between her sleepless nights, & monotonous afternoons, he reappears. She notices him immediately but acts nonchalant—her heart pounds with excitement & passion. She waves from a distance; he waves back and smiles. She motions for him to come over, but he ignores her. Teresa’s disappointment is evident as she exhales and slumps forward. She feels like she needs dopamine release to raise her spirits. She turns around and retreats to her solitary confinement. He runs up to her and tickles her ribs, she giggles.

The sunsets and the moon resumes her dance. Teresa & the handsome gardener embrace one another in a ravished bed—the sheets and their clothes are randomly scattered throughout the guest house. He sits up, puts his shirt on, and lights a cigarette—she stares out the window watching the moon with a look of pure satisfaction. He stands up and paces around. She quips, “I’m surprised you still have so much energy after that performance.” He cringes, “You know it doesn’t have to end here.” She replies, “Oh, and I wouldn’t expect any less.” He goes on, “Listen, I know that you and I don’t really have a future together.” She silently agrees; he continues, “But there may be a way for us to both get what we want. You get another gold rush, and I get to have you. We get to have each other.” She lifts herself upright, motioning for him to continue. He summarizes, “It’s called The White Light.” He pulls out a business card from his jeans and flicks it on the bed. He wanders towards the door and says, “Check it out, or not, but whatever you do, know I really enjoyed our time together.” He leaves, and she examines the card; it’s a basic white cardstock with plain black text reading, “The White Light, introducing the individual to their infinite potential. 74 Marbleen Ave.” 

Teresa saunters down the abandoned road—devastated businesses and deserted factories surround. It seems like every window is broken, and all the paint is peeling. She arrives at a clean, white shop front with plants in the window. Double-checking the business card and verifying it’s “74 Marbleen Ave,” she creaks up the stairs and pushes open the door, a bell chimes. A merry, old woman greets her, “Hello dear! Pleased to meet you; my name is Abigail; welcome to The White Light.” Teresa winces; none of this is what she expected. She questions, “What is it that you exactly do here?”

Abigail smirks, “We open minds.” Teresa snarls, “That’s a bit cryptic. Could you be a little more specific?” Her aimless eyes drift around the shop, searching for a shred of truth. Abigail sighs, “Put it this way, hun, right now you’re a river; we’ll turn you into an ocean.” Teresa squints her eyes, looking like she just sucked on a lemon. She notices that it’s already two-thirty; she thinks to herself, “that can’t be right.” Abigail chuckles, “I know it’s hard to explain and even harder to understand. Pardon the metaphors, but the only way to learn is by experiencing it.” There are crystals and books on how to use them—smudge sticks, ouija boards, tarot cards, and so many things for Teresa to roll her eyes at; she was starting to feel dizzy. Teresa shrugs, wondering what she had to lose, and decides to give it a go. Abigail cheers, “You interested!?” Teresa nods. Abigail joyously jogs over to a dark, heavy door at the back of the shop. She begins unlocking a series of latches, deadbolts, combinations, and one final lock, which she has the key for around her neck. She pulls the chain over her head and mumbles something over the key. She steps aside and says, “Okay, go on, enjoy!” 

Teresa slowly advances toward the door, asking, “What’s on the other side?” Abigail grins, “Your potential.” Teresa scowls, “And it’s free? What is this some sort of psychic reading or reiki healing? What is this all about?” She thinks to herself, “why did the gardener send me here?” Teresa awaits a simple answer. Abigail’s smirk twitches, and through a clenched jaw, she mutters, “It’s something you’re gonna have to see to believe.” Teresa pouts, disappointed with the answer but reaching for the knob. She admits to herself, “I am quite curious at this point, and I came all this way.” The dense door’s hinges creak, revealing a pitch-black space. Teresa stares into the void; completely captivated, she drones, “There’s nothing in here; it’s empty.” She keeps gazing forward with unblinking dedication, wondering what will come next. Her heart flutters as words slip out of her mouth, “Wait, I see something… a white…light?” Abigail simpers as Teresa wanders mindlessly into the room; the door snaps shut on its own.

The entrance’s bell jingles as someone enters the shop; it’s the handsome gardener. He asks, “Is it done?” Abigail smiles & nods, “Oh yesShe has been returned. Thank you for your business.” He replies, “I didn’t do this for you. It’s for my grandfather.” His face scrunches up, and he gestures towards the heavy, dark door, “So how does this thing work?” Abigail smirks, “Well, it’s kind of like recycling a soul back into the original essence. It’s hard to explain but easier to experience.” She motions with her hand, inviting the gardener to enter. He shakes his head and begins leaving, Abigail pets the door, and the bell rings as he exits.                   

May 8th (2021)

For the indecisive daydreamer:

I am sure of my ability to succeed, regardless of what I have heard from others.

There are many options available, and I know what the most beneficial choice is.

I know that the world is an illusion.

I have the power to manifest my dreams.

I am peaceful and constantly clearing all clutter from my life.

I know that criticism directed at me is more about the other person; I am focusing on accepting myself and my creations.

I am strengthening the connection to my true self.

I am content right here & now.

I am letting go of anger.

Most people get upset because their ego is offended, and I will rise above it.

I know when to rest and to call it the quits.

Removing toxic people from my experience is self-care.

I will spend more time in nature.

I am ready to look inward.

When I am alone, I am peaceful.

I can imagine what I want from life, and I’m doing that now.

I see through doubtful people and make my choice of whether or not I deal with them.

I am the author of my journey, and I can write whatever I want.

Imagining what I want brings me joy and clarity.

The more I visualize my ideas, the more energy I put towards their manifestation.

I am bringing my thoughts to life.

I forgive anyone who has ever hurt my feelings; it’s okay, I am healing, and they are too.

I know that I am beyond thoughts & hunger; I am source.

I refuse to fight; I win, I refuse to struggle, I succeed, I refuse to argue, I quietly know the truth.

I am doing the best I can; if that’s not enough for anyone, I am at peace because it’s enough for me right now.

Fortune flows to me with ease.

I am constantly earning while I have fun.

Life is a game, and I am an expert player.

I know what I need to do right now, to live my best life yet.

I am beyond competition and comparing; I’m my own person and free from limitation & imitation.

May 7th (2021)

In Mezopeak Village, there could only be one champion—the most celebrated person within the community. It was their obligation to raise the spirits of the residents through song, dance. They were required to be proficient in all prominent forms of performing arts and obligated to maintain their relevance, innovation & dedication towards entertaining the people. Many young artists yearned for the role, but few were able to bear the weight of its garland. 

As far back as Abernathy could recall, Vanessa had been Mezopeak’s reigning champion. Throughout her childhood, she had memories saturated with the mention & admiration of Vanessa. When Abernathy took her first steps, it was to get a closer look at Vanessa singing & dancing. Abernathy’s parents were the lowest of the nine classes, but it didn’t hinder the young girl from her aspirations of becoming Vanessa’s protege. Living under the restrictions of the Labourer’s division caused a rift between Abernathy and most girls her age. Usually, families that birthed girls received a promotion to the second class from the bottom, The Teachers. However, in Abernathy’s odd & unjust case, they made an exemption, and that’s how she first experienced the desolation of being an outsider.

Abernathy danced in her workboots, scuffing up the breakroom tiles pretending she had a microphone while singing into various objects from her lunch. But of course, someone interfered and attempted to discourage her passion. Typically, a heavyset, unshaven, plaid-jacket-wearing oaf would bark, “Enough of that racket!” As a dispirited artist, Abernathy would slump down, withdraw and eat her lunch alone. She had an unwavering dream from six to sixteen, but Labourers only required a 10th-grade education, and the system mandated that she became her father’s full-time apprentice. He was a mechanic and one of many responsible for maintaining the intra-divisional train.

By the time Abernathy was seventeen, things had begun to shift for her. No longer considered a nuisance, her break time & after-work concerts beckoned all the labourers in her district. She was a bit of a celebrity within her division, and word of The Singing Mechanic spread to her former peers. From seventeen to eighteen, she carried on this way, developing her singing abilities, and improving her dance moves. Those spur-of-the-moment performances gave her something to prepare for and provided an extra boost to wake up in the mornings. She was a mechanic only by requirement and a performing artist by self-proclamation. She felt as if she was born underwater amongst fish, but she needed to come up for air now and again. 

Vanessa, at this point, had gotten up in years; people would comment, “She’s not what she used to be.” And often, Abernathy would overhear, “I wonder who her replacement is going to be?” Now at this point in the story, most people connect the dots. They know what will happen in this derivative knock-off, so let’s skip a bit to the good part. 

Vanessa’s fingers claw at the corner of her mouth; her raised-painted eyebrows remain elevated. She utters, “Excuse me? You’re going to have to repeat yourself. I think you just said my replacement is a mechanic? I must have lost my mind.” Vanessa’s assistant fidgets and steps back slowly. He stammers, “W-w-well s-she is quite good, and very much l-loved within her d-division.” Vanessa snaps, “As a mechanic!? Not even a teacher or a healer? But a mechanic?” Her eyes narrow, and her snarl reveals fang-like teeth. Vanessa’s assistant cowers in fear.  

Abernathy, elated by the news, celebrates with her division. Their cheers explode and echo throughout the village. Since receiving the message, everything has been a whirlwind for Abernathy. It felt as if she was still there with her father, hearing it for the first time. Now here she is surrounded by village officials & future fans. The mayor leads Abernathy off the train and gestures towards the church, and confirms, “Vanessa is waiting for you. We’ll be right here.” 

Abernathy ascends the imposing sandstone steps, creaking open gigantic exterior doors of the church. She saunters down the central aisle; Vanessa stands on the alter wearing a funeral dress. She steps down and begins approaching her replacement. Abernathy shudders from excitement and enthusiastically blurts, “I love you so much; I have been your fan since before I can even remember!” Vanessa growls, “Save your excitement, child.” She sinisterly grins; Abernathy’s face looks as if Vanessa had just slapped her. Vanessa continues, “I won’t be replaced by you, or anyone for that matter. I am Mezopeak’s champion, now & forever!” Abernathy stands in confusion as Vanessa’s farreaching shadow crawls forward.

Vanessa’s voice echoes throughout the vaulted ceilings, “They say I’m slower than before; I will push myself harder. They say I’m older now; I will prepare myself like I did when…” Abernathy interjects, “Were my age?” Vanessa’s disdain comes to a full boil as she roars, “You! You little nightmare. A little insignificant, mechanic’s daughterHow dare youYou will never replace me! I’ll see to it! I’ll have you back in your greasy, stained, reeking coveralls in no time!” Abernathy scoffs, “I thought you were different… I thought…” Vanessa chimes in, “That’s the problem, dear, you aren’t supposed to think; you’re supposed to fix broken things. Leave the thinking to The Queen.

Vanessa’s aggressive panting intensifies, a sharp pain between her shoulder blades causes her to lose balance. She gently bows down while clutching her chest. Abernathy concernedly asks, “Are you okay?” Vanessa, while hunching forward, snaps, “Of course! I’m in perfect health!” Abernathy rushes forward to assist the kneeling Vanessa. Vanessa screams, “Don’t you come near me, you peasantKeep your filthy fingers off me; I’m royalty!” Vanessa slips forward, her face flattens on the cold stone flooring. Abernathy hesitates, not sure what to do. She remembers the CPR they taught her in school, but she also knows you can’t help someone difficult & unreceptive. Suddenly, Vanessa loses consciousness, and immediately Abernathy flips her over. Vanessa’s beautiful, shiny & vibrant hair of turns out to be a wig. Abernathy looks closer at Vanessa’s youthful glow; she smudges the layers of makeup caked over ghostly white, wrinkled skin. She begins performing CPR on Vanessa, but it’s too late. The beloved celebrity and self-proclaimed Queen had suffered from sudden heart failure.             

May 6th (2021)

Lucy’s jaw dropped in astonishment as the fireflies gathered, dissipating the darkness as they harmoniously flickered. Their chartreuse glow illuminated the otherwise pitch-black forest. Her father hiked ahead of her, calling back, “C’mon, Lucy, keep up!” Her four-foot-tall body scurries to maintain the pace of her father. As they both saunter down this unlit trail, their only source of light is Lucy’s father’s lantern. The distant rumbling of thunder prompted him to command, “C’mon, we need to hurry up!” 

These woods were overgrown, seemingly endless & bewildering. And that’s during the day, at night it was nearly impossible not to become lost. The locals and quirky tourists had a nickname for this place: The Spider’s Web. It was a great attraction for the town, which would otherwise be monotonous & unenticing to travellers. During the high season in the summer months, it was typical for the town’s shops & diners to be swarming with sightseers—all yearning to unearth The Spider’s Web’s secrets and quench their peculiar thirst. 

It was usual and expected for the tourist’s migration to occur, and that’s why Razee grew annoyed by the regimen. He was the owner of his eponymously-named restaurant: Razee’s Diner. As far as customers go, it was relatively slow all year round, except for that backpacker-saturated season. He didn’t mind the extra business. Honestly, Razee would have gone under by now if it wasn’t for the siren song of The Spider’s Web. What irritated him the most were the recurring questions and unvaried responses. Every year, pink blossoms bloomed from dreary, vacant branches. Birds chirped again, and parking spaces filled as the tiny town’s roads, sidewalks & stores became overcrowded.

Not this year,” Razee grimaced as he thought to himself. The eager faces of two tourists shined from their stools. He was familiar with the expression, bright eyes, and excited smiles. In his opinion, they were stereotypical self-proclaimed adventurers, and their kind had strolled into his diner many times before. But this time was different; Razee reacted with years of repressed frustration. One of the travellers prods, “…Well? Is it true? Is The Spider’s Web real?” The second traveller adds, “Do people actually get lost in it?” Both travellers anxiously await Razee’s answer. Razee blurts out, “Nah, the people around here all know it’s not true; it’s a bit of a racket.” He savours the deflation of their enthusiasm as their faces become long and discouraged. He resists smiling. 

Traveller #1 says to #2, “Aw, man. Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Traveller #2 complains, “Everything is exaggerated or just like totally made up nowadays.” They pay for their meals and leave. A sweet voice nudges Razee, “Why did you lie to them, Daddy?” He looks down beside him into Lucy’s big, expressive, brown eyes and says, “Oh, I’m just having a bit of fun, that’s all. It’s not really a lie.” She thinks for a moment, smiles, and runs off. 

Hours pass by, and it’s closing time for the diner. Razee finishes the standard cleaning routine while Lucy waits in one of the eating booths. Now is a necessary time to mention precisely how close the restaurant is to The Spider’s Web. It was close enough for a little girl to get lost in it while her father finished cleaning his diner. Razee rings out a rag over the industrial sink, draping it over the edge. As he walks out of the kitchen, he calls, “Alright, Lucy, let’s go.” He stops and listens for any of her little footsteps. Yet, nothing; he drops his satchel and searches every booth. His heart pounds, “Lucy?! Where are you?” The last booth’s table has a flipped-over menu, written on it in crayon it reads, “Gone to spider’s web, be back soon, love Lucy.”

Razee races out of the restaurant, sprinting towards the woods. The ominous forest surrounded the entire town, and Razee’s Diner was right at the southern-most edge. It was less than a hundred feet from him to the beginning of the treeline. He shouts while running, “Lucy!?” There’s a group of tourists camping by the fringe. Razee grabs one and aggressively asks, “Have you seen a little girl about this tall,” He gestures with his hands at about four feet from the ground. The surprised backpacker responds, “Yeah, she’s just right over there.” Razee looks in the direction of the backpacker’s pointing finger to see Lucy’s silhouette disappear into the woods. He mutters, “No.” He steals one of the group’s lanterns and chases after Lucy. Various shouts of disapproval hurl towards Razee’s fleeing hindside.

It’s darker under the trees. Somehow Razee already feels bleaker; disheartened. He calls out, “Lucy!?” No response, only an eerie silence that discards his remaining hope. He knew this place was not one to enter. He acknowledged that the stories were true. Suddenly he notices a vague outline made possible by the flickering fireflies. He squints and stops moving. He slowly moves forward, calling, “Lucy?” The figure shifts and responds, “Daddy?” The two reunite, Razee embraces her, kissing the top of her head multiple times. He snaps, “What were you thinking?” She replies, “You told them that this place wasn’t really scary. That means it’s safe.” Razee smacks his forehead, sighs, and readjusts his collar. He completed the first part of his rescue mission but now came the hard part; getting out of The Spider’s Web.   

May 5th (2021)

The apartment’s door slams shut, waking up Justina. An irritated Aldrin mutters to himself, screeches a chair across the linoleum kitchen flooring, and pours himself a glass of cheap bourbon. His body slouches into a chair, letting out a brief sigh before taking a sip. Justina steps out of the bedroom, the floor creaks, and Aldrin tries his best to ignore it. She sits next to him and quietly asks, “How did it go?” Judging by his defeated posture and willingness to consume the stomach-churning beverage, she already knew the answer.

He flips his uncombed black hair out of his face. Staring forward through the fridge—he takes another swig, this time finishing the glass. “It went,” he says while wincing. He reaches forward for the bottle, but Justina grabs his hand. Aldrin hurls her arm to the side; she squirms—with the bottle in his grasp, his eyes; wide open, he jeers, “This is mine.” He snivels, looks down, and whines, “This is all I have left.” Justina delays her instinct to offer him physical affection. He inches down to the floor, using the sink’s cabinet doors as a backing.  

She stands still & quiet, hesitant to do anything else. Aldrin chugs straight from the bottle; the sound of his guzzling pervades the silence. He sags forward, arms resting on his knees, his head hangs; enshadowed. Her gentle voice expresses pure consideration, “It’s okay; there are always more auditions.” Aldrin laments, “I’m twenty-two, and I’m already a has-been,” Justina replies, “No, you’re not, don’t say that. It’s not true. You have many great years ahead of you. We have many great years. Together, we can do this; we can make it through anything.” Aldrin snarls and reiterates in a mocking tone, “Make it through anything.” He stumbles back to his feet, leaning on the kitchen counter for support. “We’re barely making it by as is. How exactly are we going to make it any further than this?” His criticisms are like tiny razors slicing Justina’s peace of mind.  

She knows his question is rhetorical. Aldrin’s an actor, and she’s accustomed to his drama & theatrics. Suddenly it dawns on her how tired she feels, massaging her eyelids & sighing, “I don’t want to fight with you.” He screams, “Do something with me!” Justina grimaces, about to react, employing her predetermined list of complaints. She had many insults & accusations queued up, ready to be verbally vomited. She knew; however, he feels lonely and rejected, sacrificing an ordinary, steady life and the security that comes with it for his dream. Weighing up the situation, Justina shakes her head, declaring, “Not tonight, I’m going back to sleep.” 

She begins walking away; the bottle smashes on the kitchen wall, right beside her head; she huddles, wrapping her face in quivering arms. Aldrin snickers, burying his remorse with renewing disdain. Justina looks back in sheer horror; tears pour from her betrayed gaze. She commands, “You need to leave. NOW!” He agrees, “Yeah, I’m leaving. For good!” Aldrin storms forward, Justina gets out of his way. He enters the bedroom and starts rummaging through drawers. Justina glances down at the shattered glass pieces scattered all around her bare feet. The stench of cheap alcohol causes her to cringe. He clunks & clanks through the apartment, ransacking the place of various toiletries, clothes, and snacks.

After the minute hand travelled from North to South, there was an aggressive pounding on the front door. Both stopped, Aldrin panics. He creeps down the hallway and squints through the peephole. It’s the Police; he snaps back and leans on the door; his agitated breathing causes beads of sweat to trickle faster down his face. Justina peaks out from behind the kitchen’s corner; Aldrin lashes out, “You stay there!” 

The knocking thunders once more, a barrage of heavy-fisted booming hammers the door, shuddering Aldrin’s head on the other side. One of the officers shouts, “PoliceOpen up!” Aldrin maintains his cowardly position, frustrated & desperate. He decides to climb out the bedroom window and make his way down the fire escape. Justina answers the door; one police officer ensures her safety, while the other searches for Aldrin. His forgotten phone rings on the kitchen table. 

The next day after a sleepless night, Justina returns to the kitchen. She makes herself tea and sits down. Noticing that Aldrin’s phone has a new voicemail, she listens to it, “Hello Aldrin, due to some unforeseen events, we have decided to move forward with you after all. There was a bit of a controversy with our first choice. The director is adamant about the character being played by an upstanding person with a kindhearted nature. And of course, we know that to be you, based on all those years on the Disney channel, so with that, we’re all looking forward to working with you, give us a call back at your earliest convenience, and we shall commence the next steps. Au revoir, dear.”                                                                     

May 4th (2021)

This house was a home. It had family photos all over the walls and souvenirs from vacations. The floors were hardwood, and the backyard had a jungle gym. Every nook & cranny contained knickknacks, and every breath Aaron took in this house made him realize what he never had. 

Arguing voices echo down a narrow hallway and Aaron storms outside. He races to a white van with “Ducky’s – HVAC System & Duct Cleaning” written on the side. He scrambles inside, struggling to wrangle the long vacuum tube, stumbling & tripping over the hose that’s tangled around his body like a Boa Constrictor. Aaron falls out of the van on his back. His supervisor, watching from the upstairs window, bolts down the stairs, delivers a sigh and demands, “Get out of here; you’re a joke. (The supervisor laughs to himself.) Aaron uncoils the hose from around his legs. He stares at his supervisor in a way to gather whether or not he’s serious. “Are you kidding me right now? This friggin’ kid. Get out of here, now! You’re worthless.”  Aaron scurries away, he looks back over his shoulder, and the supervisor shouts, “And bring me back that uniform, cleaned and it better smell friggin’ nice!”

Aaron slumps into his secondhand Honda Civic. The broken seat snaps back, he crunches forward, reaching behind him to readjust the seat. Staring into the dashboard with a blank expression—he wonders to himself, “Why do I keep screwing up?” His watery eyes and flustered face slink down, resting his forehead on the steering wheel. He sulks as laughing children stream by on their skateboards. Suddenly his passenger door opens, and someone sits down beside him. His peripheral vision, blocked by his lamenting hands—he gradually raises his head to see who has entered his car.  

I think that was a tad bit harsh,” She says with the suggestion of a nonexistent friendship. Aaron winces, “Who are you?” She smiles and extends her hand, “I’m Angelica.” He stares at her inviting, pink fingernails. She eagerly tilts her head. He erupts, “You can’t just sit in a person’s car! That’s psycho! That’s psychotic. Are you like nuts or something?” She sighs and retreats her offer to shake hands. Angelica says, “Listen, if anything’s crazy, I think it’s how you were treated back there, in front of an entire neighbourhood.” Aaron ceases to cast daggers her way as he turns his head. He exhales, “Yeah, maybe you got a point there. Still weird, though. You, sitting in a strangers car and all.” Angela instantly responds, “Strangers or future friends?” Aaron applies pressure to his closed eyes and laughs, “You’re unique; I’ll give you that.” 

An older, gray-haired man sits on his balcony overlooking the rugged Italian Riveria, his white mug of tea steams. The distant azure of the horizon meets with the coastline’s aquamarine. Pink flowers cover the encompassing mountain range. He oversees the cascading rooftops of the colourful buildings and the white sea foam of the waves crashing against the tidal wall of the marina. An equally gray and aged woman gently places her hand on his shoulder. He wonders, “What made you sit beside me that day?” She looks out at the tranquil skyline, past a few scattered sailboats, as the wind caresses her hair. She leans over and kisses his cheek, whispering, “You looked like you needed a friend.” He embraces her comforting hand and kisses the top of it. The warm sun sinks into the enriching indigo of the Mediterranean.                                           

May 3rd (2021)

Marcus is what most men desire themselves to be; steadfast, wealthy, and invigorated. His life is abundant & brimful with luxury, elegance, and anything he demands. However, there is one thing that no amount of money can ever grant possible; love. Driving his fancy cars gets spoiled by the vacant passenger seat. Eating his overpriced entrees, whether it’s prissy fine dining or a request fulfilled by his own personal chef, the lack of love left him hungry for more. As people snapped their heads to take a second, extra studious look at his exotic cars, custom suits, and overall lavish lifestyle, the more he felt like he was missing something they couldn’t see. 

The general public praised Marcus’s arrival. Often on the streets where billboards hovered over enticing shop fronts & decorated palm trees, people would holler various exclamations of awe & envy at him. He had a car for every mood—three outfits for each occasion and enough expensive watches to tell the time in all the time zones at once. To the casual observer, Marcus was the man. He had everything the average person ravenously craved. And that’s where his biggest problem crept up from, golddiggers and fake friends. When I say Marcus had trust issues, that was an understatement. The man had mental walls constructed around his heart, but not without good reason. 

I think we’ve all been betrayed at some point—been let down, been violated by the treacherous actions of someone looking to get the best of us. Or maybe it happened by the luck of the draw. Who knows? All I know is that for Marcus, each love-struck heartbeat, every potential life companion, beckoned the question, “Is this about my money?” As far as insecurities go, it’s somewhat reasonable, but it didn’t help him sleep any better at night, knowing his concerns were justified.

He was a great judge of character, felt a tingle in his heart when he met decent people. But when he met people to avoid, it was like a boot to his gut; obscure nausea crawled out of the pit of his stomach. A feeling he, unfortunately, had to endure daily. What do you do with this information when you unanimously doubt people? Consistently he’s questioning their motives as he deconstructs every single action of theirs. It’s no life to live, but everyone wants to try it out.  

Maybe don’t dress like you’re rich,” Eric says with a mouthful of cookies. Marcus scoffs and rolls his eyes. He growls, “It’s not about looking rich, many people look rich, but they’re poor from keeping up appearances.” Eric leans forward into a more pensive stance from his reclined position on Marcus’s sectional. He earnestly asks, “You seriously won’t eat these cookies?” Marcus snarls, “I don’t know the reason why she made them. Is it to get on my good side? For me to let my guard down? So that she can blindside me, hook in her claws, and drain me dry?” Eric chuckles, “Jeez, man, you need to ease up. They’re just cookies.” (Eric stands up and begins walking away) “Alright, man, good talk. Hey, we still on for tomorrow?” Marcus nods his head while staring at the Tupperware container of remaining cookies.

There he is. Can you believe it? An auspicious, perky, & unselfish woman offers him the labours of her affection, and he doesn’t even try a cookie! Marcus grumbles, “It’s just a cookie.” Reaching into the container, over the labelled lid, it reads, “For Marcus, baked with love.” He leans back into his seat, sniffing, softening his guard. The smell causes his mouth to water, and he takes the slightest of bites. Marcus stops, his trivial chomp satisfying in a way he’s never felt. He tastes something in that cookie that no money, no restaurant, no personal chef can prepare for you; that’s the sweetness of love.    

Moving forward, Marcus has a decision to make. Does he roll up his sleeves and get to work on himself and his uncertainties. Or does he put on a blindfold and ignore his problems? Truth be told, even the most vibrant people are capable of atrocious behaviour, and vice versa. A cranky, graying, hunched-over, always-shouting & complaining man can once in a while surprise others with his kindness. Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks. The most important aspect of love is gratitude. Whatever is going on in your love life, know this; nothing is forever, so cherish every step of the journey.                                    

May 2nd (2021)

The rain pelts down on the roof—cascading out of the overflowing eavestroughs. A young man tosses and turns in his sweat-drenched bed. The storm roars as his restless sleep creaks the mattress springs. He flips back & forth, dreaming something horrific. Lightning crashes into a backyard tree; sparks flicker and flash; he sits up and gasps for air.

The darkroom plays tricks. Shadows appear as figures, and the young man’s fears empower them. The chilling azure of night penetrates his innermost thoughts. He fights but can’t stop the memories from flooding to the surface. Remembering a glorious springtime day, he was much younger then: five or six years old. He was running around playing in an unkempt garden behind his grandmother’s musty mansion. There were indicators that this once was a prestigious place. 

The stepping stone path had sunk into the earth, consumed by the neglected grass & dandelions. Hedges, which someone carefully planted in uniform arrangements, were now reverting to their natural appearance. The deliberately organized stone edging laid in shambles at random places, with the feral growth of nature rehabilitating and engulfing the landscaper’s efforts. He couldn’t see himself in his memory, but he knows he was smiling as his tiny body frolicked through the recovering wilderness. 

Henry!” the caustic voice of his aunty hissed across the estate. “Where are you, you little varmint!” birds abandoned their nests to the sound of this woman’s voice. Henry’s timid demeanour greeted her with a reluctant dread. He called out, “I’m over here, aunty, in the garden!” His sweet voice is like oil to her vinegar. She shrieked, “What are you doing over there!? Come here this instant! And if you ever raise your voice to me again, it will be time-outs until you’re graduated.” Henry scampered over to the unappealing woman—her dark purple dress flowed to the patio stones. With a fox fur draped across her robust shoulders, she motions him to follow.

The shadow of swaying branches provides an unsettling ambience. Henry remains sitting up in his sweaty bed. He reflects on a not-so-new but creeping thought. What were his stepping stones? What had been forced into his garden, redirecting his nature, his intuition? “I feel as if my origin is ready to reclaim its throne; my power is here and now,” he says to himself and wipes the sweat from his eyes. 

Henry’s been living in his grandmother’s house for thirty years. Except it didn’t belong to her anymore, it was rightfully his. The problem was all those years ago; his nasty aunt adopted the young & orphaned Henry. Needless to explain, she exploited the boy’s situation and inheritance—carving out a nice spot to call “home” in the middle of Henry’s rightful property. She was mean and insulted him every chance she got. His years sharing the family mansion with her cruelty caused him to lose confidence in himself. Every day between work, and sleep, he spent his life avoiding her & drinking Pepto Bismol. 

The following day, his aunt, offensively eating her breakfast and slurping her coffee gasps to Henry, slamming something down on the table. Her mouth still open, and her eyes adjusting from disbelief to disdain. She squints and growls, “This is how you greet me!? Get out of my face! You smell like a wet dog, go wash, you filthy varmint!” Henry points down at the magazine he slammed on the table; he orders, “this is all the real estate listings of the surrounding area; find your own place to live.”

She fought and tried to dig her claws further in, but Henry rejected all of her attempts. He watches her as the movers closed up the truck and drive her away. She is still upset, unkind, and unforgiving. He savours her departure, sipping his tea in the driveway. After a little bit, he walks back into the untamed garden. Now the vegetation towers over him; it is an oasis of unruly greenery. He wanders inside of it, sauntering through the tall grass and whimsical dandelions, climbing over the lightning-severed branch. He looks up at the charred surface of where the lighting crashed into the tree. Butterflies scatter as he passes through the partially hidden stepping stone path. The sound of water gets louder as he kneels in front of a rustic fountain filled with clean water. He cups his hands and splashes some on his face, exhaling from relief, and smiling. 

May 1st (2021)

The rain will fall, and the cracked earth will gorge itself. It will mindlessly feast and saturate. The automated process goes on, from one extreme to the other, oscillating without mercy. The earth forgets like a goldfish, floating, no recollection. The bodies of animals are the same, a product of their environment. The mind must rise above the cycles, and man must remove the shackles of the food chain.

In the desolate wilderness, vast & vacuous, we search for purpose. With hollowed-out reason, our hunger beckons us to new places. Until we appease the urge, our restlessness devours peace—the birds of prey cry above, their shrieking echos scatter through the trees. Inside the forest glade is water, a tranquil oasis amid everything else.

Hunters strive, and gatherers find. But where is the mercy? The forgiveness for shortcomings is lost in our self-righteousness. Foxes sleek by in the shadows, wolves glowing eyes penetrate through the darkness. There is an undeniable strength in numbers, but what’s the price? The birds are chirping, and the insects are buzzing as humans decide what noises they’re going to make next.

A wounded person crawls from the naked earth to a sun-smouldering rock. They seek a moment to rest and collect their dispersed thoughts. Finally, breathing without speaking, without feeling the inclination to seek approval or explaining one’s self. You are safe here, in this place—this garden that offers what the outside world can never give. Exhaustion creeps up, like the straw that broke the camel’s back. It’s not about delaying the inevitable; progress is about finding a better way, discovering sustainability.

Your love is bright but not free. To power, any bulb requires something, electricity, effort, money, energy. Everything is energy, even your secret thoughts. Well, there are no secrets, no privacy, everything is one. All walls are imaginary. Every container is temporary—including your limiting beliefs. I believe in you—that is no joke. I know you have what it takes to prevail, even though, at times, we defend what poisons us. That is the ego, wanting to have its say, like a backseat driver. Never forget you’re driving the organic machine; it’s your mind at the steering wheel.

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