S is for...

Sayyyyy Whaaaat?!?

During a recent conversation, I rambled out a thought that left me wide open and vulnerable to the desire of another for an explanation.

You don't believe in Evolution? What? Are you telling me you're a Creationist*?

I felt so exposed. And I realized that I had several choices. One being, nevermind. When that one failed, I went into stuttering a little. Feeling successful in showing up as the babbler of nonsense that they were projecting onto me, I decided to tell them I had to go to the bathroom. Regardless of their thoughts, I wanted to press upon them my evolutionary skills in being potty-trained. 

I go to the bathroom to regroup and set the intention to explain myself with an awareness that might actually allow their expansion of thought. Just a little room of 'what if' that were true...

So, upon returning, I just simply said that I'd like to have a moment to explain my thoughts. Luckily, one of the listeners is a musician so it was easy to offer the analogy of the Universe being a symphony of energy with each aspect of Consciousness having its own unique vibrational signature; its own unique note. It was a little harder to explain that those aspects of Consciousness hold intention. Consciousness comes forth to create and recreate with fervor. We come from primitive (wo)man who had a unique vibrational signature that modern day (wo)man has expanded into just as primitive ape was predecessor to modern ape. Mutations and selections that occurred did so within the intention set by the vibration. It stands to reason that we have modern (wo)man and modern ape coexisting in the Now. The vibrations have resonated in such close proximity that science has created a story (yes, much like the Creationist but with a whole hell of a lot more data) that is nearly impossible to question. 

A paradigm. 

No. I was not drinking. 

And I totally left my alien theories out of it. :) 

*I find it wonderfully ironic that I could call myself a 'creationist' knowing we all perceptually create our realities and that the evolution of my journey has been so closely tied to 'Abe'. Haha...the Universe is being silly...again!


R is for...


This is me attempting a little Yin-Yang Thang. 

Hey. I tried.

It's an interesting thought to think: I was an Infinite Possibility in the Mind of God. I showed up. Now, I am an Infinite Possibility in My Own Mind. Of course, still an extension in the Mind of God. But that was a time of incubation. Now, freewill abounds. 

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions. Or better put: Creations. Creations. Creations.

My oldest gave me an early Christmas gift. A meditation chair. It has made my meditation feel even holier than usual. Maybe it's just the acknowledgment. She is seeing me differently than when I first began my mystical journey. I've always been on it. I was just not as open as I am now. I'm not caring like I had in the past of what others might think. And I've become more gentle. Lesser critical version of my Virgo self. Though, I have my moments those moments no longer have me. I'm not a hostage anymore. Now, I've a clear sense of feeling what I feel and why and discard any old conditioning to numb them and pretend they don't exist. This is huge for me. It truly is an act of living in the moment. 

I read my last blog and just had to apologize to myself for leaving the Now. I was viscerally reliving a very old conversation with a man who probably doesn't even remember it or would fight me on its accuracy. Though not stated, I was projecting failure of having not taken care of grandma myself. Deep in the memory of seeing her after so long and...

Just feel it. Witness it. Release it.

There is nothing like Faith. A belief in the Higher Good. It knows what It's doing. It knows my desires. It knows the intricate weaving of healing I have entrusted to Its loom. 

In my meditation, I asked for harmony and balance. To place my heart at the center of my Soul. The Universe, in no small way, answered. The answer was: Andi can't come to the phone right now. 

I woke to watch the sunrise. Gorgeous. There were hues of orange and purples intermingled among the cloudscape that merged into the light leaving only the strata behind. 

A New Day. 

Full of Possibilities. 

Full with Me.


The End of A World

Eleven years ago, today, my grandmother died. I doubt she would use the word 'die' as most do and, honestly, it describes more of what I feel happened to me.

My dad calls a little after 11 p.m. to tell me she's passed. I hate the sound in his voice. It's the regret he expressed to me the day he told me he wished he'd lived life differently for us. Us being mom, my sister, my brothers and me. It's that ego-voice shouting nothing in the past can ever be changed you worthless human being. That phone call is what's most vivid today. That conversation. He'd call back the next day to tell me the coroner wrote her date of death as the 22nd. That has always bothered me. She died on the 21st! Damn it!  But she was dead. No one seemed to care about the details. What did it matter now? Dad was content with a lie.

History, after all, is man made.

This day gets me a little funky. A little down. I don't often give myself permission to go into dark places. I've made a solemn oath that I will not join another in theirs. That's hard. When all you know is darkness the darkness will comfort you.  I've learned to trust myself alone in there. I've taught myself to hit the walls hard. Just run straight into them and with mastery, that only a broken heart can teach, you learn the skill of contact. Impact that ignites a tiny spark. A near invisible flame. I've taught myself, when that happens, to be very still. Do not move. Control your breathe less you blow it out and find yourself too weak to try again.

I call that spark Love. I don't know what else to call it.  I'm learning to spark the dark with the snap of the fingers. Love in the palm of your hand. Rather like magic. Always a miracle.

I've been practicing, today, like a madman's sad-woman.

I was never worried about the Mayan prophecies. Their world was circular. They didn't flip pages. Endings were always Beginnings. And that's what I think of when I get in this funk. Not the Mayans, per se, just that life is circular and spiraling. Maybe now as a grandmother, I'm acknowledging an ending in someway but how beautiful this beginning? So, no spiraling down allowed.

Herstory, after fall, is mine to make.