Ride Away, Ride the Wave

intuition, Small Miracles, Soul heartedly

I woke up in a fog– a fog of overthinking something I have overthought for such a vast time period that for most would seem unnecessary. For me, it’s always dwelling on the intense original life purpose I have energetically paved for myself to the extremity of falling into a black hole after the of not taking action upon my own intuition in perfect timing last year. It’s had many pitfalls, and has become my best method of self-sabotage. For the past two years, I haven’t been able to discern whether I’ve been grieving my self-proclaimed life purpose, a person, or an idea of a person. Having conversed with Spirit in writing the night before, I asked for guidance into a more positive current situation that would bring about clarity. Perhaps rather something more along the flow of the current that would get me out of my head.

I had almost forgotten about that intention when I headed out to Natural Grocers in search of a yoga mat and some fruit. My yoga mat was a torn-out disaster, and I really needed to do some yoga. I had the fortune of running into a friend who told me she’d give me a new yoga mat for free… which, of course, was a divine opportunity I couldn’t easily pass up. When I got in line, I noticed that a friend I knew from yoga and repeatedly crossing paths –for the past nine or so months– was behind me. I told her about my recent dog-sitting gig, to which she responded,

“I could use you for dog sitting, because I’m going to Mexico to swim in some cénotes and maybe find some traditional healers to talk with,” she paused in optimistic contemplation, “Unless you want to come with me.”

So despite the wildly painful overthinking that has been my habit for so long, I booked the ticket to Cancún the next day with little hesitation. I tried to ignore the slight anxieties I held about losing possessions during flights to foreign countries, and just trust that it would be a good, smooth experience. As it would happen, we were both sending intentions of a smooth trip into our journey while conversing with angels, and so that’s exactly how it transpired.

I packed very few possessions with me; the bare minimum of clothes that would get me through the four days of our journey. I began to become aware of the pattern of following my breath, and really breathing. I’d recently come to the awareness that I hadn’t actually been doing this… and that this has been the main source of obstacles that I have experienced throughout life. Taking away months and years of true fulfillment. In order to regain this lost sense of self, I was going to need to actually start breathing from the depths of my heart and soul… and it isn’t easy, because this brings up various instances in which I must, time after time, come to terms with my Truth and how that truth is working out in this lifetime. I was coming to know that Life listened to me so long as I was nurturing my own Spirit with breath.

We sat in the airport eating fruit and drinking coffee at five a.m., having a spiritually fulfilling conversation. I was so grateful and amazed that of all people, having planned this less than a month in advance, I would be joining Sadie on the venture to Valladolid and Tulúm, Yucatan, Mexico. It’s only been a destined prophecy for me to return to this sacred, ancient land which feels so much like a second home to me since visiting a traditional Mayan village a few years ago on a college study abroad for six weeks.  In this study abroad course, I apprenticed with a Mayan herbalist and also gathered data from multiple other shamans on the Peninsula. My project at the time seemed so extensive that I knew eventually I’d have to come back to further my passion of studying and practicing plant medicine. Jungle plants are really the most intriguing of all medicines.

When I found my seat in the airplane, my seatmate was getting up to switch seats with another woman. The woman who sat down next to me in the center seat was relatively familiar looking, and we instantly connected. She was also a blogger and began telling me the themes of the entries on her blog… which were all coincidentally in alignment with my recent experiences and current process of life. The one she explained most in detail was the one on grief– not necessarily the death of a person, but rather the death of an idea of some significant life purpose one may have an attachment to, so now must find an alternative life purpose. Our next seatmate who entered was tall, gangly and handsome and he was also a blogger. We told our stories of synchronicity and unity, finding meaning beyond coincidence in human interactions. Our conversation was loud and bright, overcasting all other sleeping passengers on flight 71. When we were served plastic cups of water, I made a toast to synchronicity.

The familiar yet exotic aura of Valladolid was comforting and enticing as Sadie and I entered it in the rental car. Even the scent of this traditional Mayan city warmed my heart and comforted my soul. We navigated the series of one-way roads towards the hotel, which was a magical cove of jungle plants and antique brick walls painted in ancient Mayan-Mexican styles. Shortly after arriving, we walked the village streets towards downtown, asking for directions from other visitors in Spanish. However, we quickly noticed that those visitors were the only other tourists to be seen.

To be among the Valladolid villagers and immersed in this culture with Yucatecan aromas steaming from every other door we walked past is a beautiful thing. To take in this culture fully without the extra perceptions of any other foreigner is to take it in clearly in a new sense that nobody has yet discovered. Like first impressions: to be looked upon for the first time without hindrance of a third party is to see clearly. To smell clearly, and to think clearly.

An exuberant energy vibrated from every carefree child and into the air of the Plaza, which reflected any other Yucatecan Plaza with their historic fountain centerpieces and white-stone loveseats along the edges; tall shadowy trees, and the enchanting sound of the Spanish and Mayan languages escalating in laughter. We ate at a traditional Yucatecan open-air restaurant with neon colored lights penetrating the dark evening air. In any Yucatecan meal, I most look forward to the homemade cornflour tortillas hopefully cooked on limestone (“kal”), and so was delighted to have an entire stack of them sitting in front of me covered in a creatively patterned hand-woven basket.

After sleeping in a beautiful silky hammock which I swore somehow changed colors from yellow to pink overnight, I awoke to roosters reminding me of the sacredness and the calm of which I was simply a part of being in this foreign land. Breakfast was the finest and simplest of foods: fresh fruit and fresh bread with local coffee, black.

We walked around town for a few minutes in the morning sunshine upon which everything seemed to dazzle and everyone seemed to be so content, so simple. Though work for the artisans daily in their shops is not so simple as they would have it seem, each shop owner at every storefront was beaming a smile of welcome. There were women setting up a market on the sidewalk full of vivid vegetables and fruits; the girl offered me half an orange which I gratefully savored. Sharing flavors of the culture.

We set out in search of some cénotes after collecting some directions from the hotel on which ones might be best. Tunneling down the roads outlined with jungle trees was such a restoration to the soul… bringing greenery and refinement to all its hidden aspects, as jungles of Mexico always have a tendency to do. Descending down the steps into the cave, it was a cool and mystic atmosphere. We were the only two swimmers in the large cenote, granting us freedom for spiritual and physical healing in the magical, deep waters. Catfish occasionally could be spotted. Birds fluttered in and out of crevices within the stone walls. I spent time floating, reflecting in one specific pool illuminated by strong rays of sunlight, making visible the depth of the cenote. I asked for a clear answer, and as I emerged out into the hotness and newfound clarity of the day, a multitude of butterflies in varieties of different colors fluttered around my face.

There is only one other natural resource, in my opinion, that has more healing power than a cenote– and that is the Ocean. Before arriving in Tulum, we made a stop at the ruins in Coba. I was reminded of my song I started writing, in Spanish, the last time I had been in Yucatan. We sat on a log and connected with the roots of this land, the ancient mysticism of the Mayans and secrets of the Sun which they held. I purchased a hand-woven dreamcatcher with an owl woven within the center. Just being present here, I could sense the humidity of the Ocean and the mysteries of the Mayans pulling me in further to their homeland.

As we drove into the village of Tulum with the windows rolled down, the air was vibrant with exuberance and joy that only a special place such as this would exhibit– something particularly magical about the warm, clear waters of this coast. We settled into the cabana loft with shimmering dark wooden floors. Next, we walked through the village radiating with love and humidity, a shimmering happiness that could only be found on a coast such as this one… the street signs displayed messages in segments: “If not now…” “When?” Though it was a touristy atmosphere, everyone seemed perfectly content. Exiting the car, we made our way to the beach and walked on the sand to the cabana loft.

I pulled out a book to read on the beach for the first night, but soon couldn’t contain the urge to run along the coast. I started out running, inhaling deeply the warm, humid, salty air. This was my first trip to the beach in nine years, and to be near the water felt so liberating to the soul. I paused occasionally to step into the water and allow the waves to wash over me, cleansing my heart and mind. I sent out healing intentions through the palms of my hand, directed into the ocean to be washed up on every other shore in all directions. I ran all the way to the opposite side of the coast, to which I couldn’t count the number of miles and instead was only blinded by the sunshine shimmering across my skin. I observed all the people who were laying out along the beach, soaking in the vastness of this sea and sky.

The full moon on the last night was radiant and shone upon the dark waves of ocean. Along with the sound of a wedding DJ playing rock ‘n’ roll tunes and the aromas of the finest seafood in the near distance, the atmosphere was magical and inspirational. The intentions I had cast were now pouring into my own being and radiating along the atmosphere of all other beings. I was absorbing the beauty and magic of this land as it was absorbing me. This was the most peaceful setting on such a full moon… one in which I could remember myself and forget all other false perceptions, especially while swinging on a wooden swing overlooking the ocean.

I was carried back from this ancient, tropical land with a state of clarity and renewal; a sense of strength obtained from the ocean. My normally constricted nasal passages were suddenly clear, and I could breathe life in to such a greater state of fullness. I stared out into the morning waves of the ocean for awhile before departure. I awaited the newer, much clearer state of living that I was about to enter upon returning to the Colorado snow. I remember striking up conversation with two elderly passengers who resembled family members of mine on the shuttle back from the airport. We talked about living in the area and found we had some mutual connections in the music community and also commonalities in areas of living. The energy upon arrival was evident that life was changing for us in positive ways– big ways.

I reminisced about the sun and the people I encountered during this journey, and would reflect on bringing that energy into the everchanging, sometimes terrifying, uncertainties in my life to move forward with, despite the “grief” of my missing piece of my life purpose that I somehow felt motivated to restore… no matter the cost. I am an octopus with multiple paths in front of me out of not simply seeing the way out of my own dark hole I’ve been digging. Valladolid and Tulum were quick sources to the light of connection and simplicity of living. Who else knows one to be afraid of living large? Is it the fear of uncertainty we are dealt with, or the fear of being free and bold?

 

 

 

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Neediness: Plot Twist

Abstract Essays

You move to the mountains because you think you need to restore your energy. You go because you didn’t find what you were looking for in your hometown and you weren’t enough for anything or anyone there. You go to the mountains pleading for answers for your needy, desperate soul. Constantly you beg God and the Universe to send people to you so you’ll be satisfied. You search from town to town looking for people to heal you. You feel so deprived, so desperate for these people and landscapes and then so discouraged when, one day later, you can’t seem to find the answers written clearly in front of you.

You need an anchor. You need somebody to be there for you in your times of need (which is always). The need is so intense, so urgent that you conduct a private ceremony to manifest your solutions right here and now. Why wait patiently for the right timing in the future when you can just as easily control the outcome of your present? You feel confident stepping into your own power. The answer will come, you say, tomorrow morning if not NOW.

However, you’d almost forgotten how God, the Universe, and the Cosmos work in absurdly strange and mysteriously ironic ways.

You wake up in the morning prepared to go out in the world and manifest the solutions to all your needs and desires. You’re dressed to the nines with your newly inherited yoga suit- PLUS an extra dress to stroll the sidewalks of downtown after you’re finished with your yoga sesh in the ever-renowned studio a few miles south. This is it: the day you find exactly what you were looking for. The day you finally manifest your life partner and eternal sunshine and nine kittens, and an everlasting zest for art and creativity that cannot be killed off by anything- sickness, rodeos, or Donald Trump.

Plot twist.

You’re taken aback when, halfway out the door, you receive a text from your friend. A friend! You know, the one you met right here in your new mountain town. But you don’t necessarily know how to respond to texts in such a frenzy, so you call instead. Turns out, this friend has been throwing up consistently since 4am and tells you she’s desperately in need of someone. Living a little too high up the mountain and miles away from town, she needs someone to bring her electrolytes to restore her energy. She’s desperately in need of healing.

Of course, you want to help, so you run to the store and purchase all the essentials she needs to rehydrate. Beforehand, you followed your intuition and packed along the crystalized ginger and holy water that happened to fall off your shelf just as you were leaving. You thought you might as well utilize these in the healing session.  When you open the door to her cabin, you’re greeted by the most beautiful kitten that reminds you of the one you left with your parents back home. Your friend is so miserable she can’t even drink water. “There’s nothing anyone can do to help me!” she cries in desperation.

But you know this is not true, as you feel that the power of love energy can heal anything. You also know that you are certified in reiki, which can be very powerful, so you offer this assistance. After the reiki and Recharge and holy water, your friend feels much better and is no longer heaped in a fetal position on the floor.

While you’re here, simultaneously experiencing the power of love and its healing effects as well as angelic guidance, you receive a voicemail coming in later than it was recorded from another friend that you’re supposed to meet for lunch down the hill. At that moment. (The message popped up later than it was recorded because there is no service where you are currently located.) Now that your friend is doing better, you’re able to speed down the hill and arrive to your lunch appointment albeit forty minutes late.

The meal is more than satisfying to your physical hunger you’d forgotten about. It was exactly what you’d been craving all week, and finally on a Sunday you are able to fulfill this desire! And you’re sitting in a sheltered patio underneath the sunshine in January! Your conversation with this other new friend is spiritually satisfying. After lunch, you’re invited to her home where you are greeted by another precious cat- this one reminds you of the very first cat you ever had. Something in the conversation you have here catches your attention. You catch your friend saying, in comparison to another scenario, “…just like I needed someone to toss things back to, like we did at lunch today”. This new friend needed you there on this day, too.

At this point, you’re kind of getting the hint that everyone here’s in the same boat. And maybe you didn’t need the mountains after all, and maybe the mountains actually needed you.

This becomes even more evident when, upon your return from town after a refreshing solo hike around the lake at dusk, you receive yet another phone call. This time from a number you recognize but never saved as a contact.

“Hi, this is Sara,” the voice says as you frantically unplug your headphones so you’re able to talk. In the midst of this chaos, you both immediately begin the conversation with laughter.

Long story semi-short: you have a brief history with this name you’ve never met. Her sister called your work looking for her and you’re the one who answered. Apparently ‘Sara’ used to work there, too, but nobody knew her. A week later, you stumbled into a shop you had a dream about visiting. The owner, who for some unknown reason believes you need a new place to live even though you’re perfectly content where you are, asks if you know ‘Sara Parsons’. A familiar light flashes in your memory. This is the exact same name you heard a few days ago when her sister called your work looking for her!

Whoa! This wasn’t even the same town we’re talking about! And ‘Sara’ lived in a town forty minutes away from the shop– how is this conversation even logical? So you took this as some sort of sign. You’d been texting this lady about her potential room for rent even when you weren’t looking for a room, and now she was calling to figure out if you were actually interested. You confess the entire story from her sister to the shop and the town she lived in, figuring this story has to be 60 miles long but you sum it up in one sentence. You both agree it’s a little strange.

Yet the conversation flows so naturally that you immediately begin discussing the most personal issues in your lives, forgetting you’ve never before met in person. Turns out you’re both on the same path to self worth but you actually hold some important information to Sara’s blockages, and know exactly what words of wisdom to hand down to her. You’re completely confident at this point that you were the one who needed to give constructive criticism for the betterment of this stranger’s life. In 33 minutes, you discuss signs from the Universe, work history, future hopes, toxic home environments, unhealthy relationships, being stagnant in bad situations, flower essences you both should be taking, Kate’s Magick anointing oils, and the paint color of your rooms.

You plan on hanging out Tuesday.

Yes, you needed the mountains… but this is precisely for the reason that the mountains were desperately in need of you.

And when somebody or something needs you, you realize that your needs no longer matter and feel filled with purpose. Your desires are naturally fulfilled without having to conduct ceremonies to manifest them. (Did I mention Sara has seven cats? Count the number of cats mentioned in this post and it will equal nine, just as I subconsciously predetermined in my sarcastic list of needs in the earlier paragraphs.)

To be continued…

“A Place I Will Call Home”

Uncategorized

I tread two thousand miles over mesa valleys, vineyards, naked mountains, the River of Lost Souls, the rugged desert, and finally, mining towns– in hopes that one of these landscapes would pull me down from the star I float upon and into a more grounded state of being. I bypassed the forest canyon on my first stop without looking back or thinking twice about it, paying no heed to its personality or character. It was a place I’d driven through inside cars before, after all– nothing too foreign. It was only 130 miles from home. Why should it ever demand my full attention?

I should know better than to ignore a living landscape and judge its level of magic by proximity to my own homeland, which is in itself magic after all – albeit a magic I’ve become too accustomed to after a number of years. I should have known all along that of all the places I was attracted to, this land would be the one to call me back if only to defy my judgemental interpretation, my underestimation. If you return, I shall give you breath. I shall give you life.

The most profound contrast of this move is the quality of breath. Not the air, necessarily, but the breath. I believe it has to do with the aromatic properties emanating from the pines, which have many healing and magical properties that have significantly reduced the inflammation of my swollen tubercles and eliminated all my sinus congestion to such a state of clarity, that I can ACTUALLY BREATHE! I had attempted to resolve my sinus inflammation through a multitude of actions for three years. Doctors could not define the origin or explanation, and could never recommend anything that didn’t worsen the issue. Some kind of magic in the air.

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The difference between breathing clearly versus shallow breathing is that you may begin to see, hear, and interpret things to an even more extreme intensity than before. Your intuition may become even stronger, and your emotions may come even closer to surface. Memories may begin to flood your mind, and you may recognize in remorse how many experiences and opportunities were shattered by your former congestion and shallow breathing, unable to process or express their significance properly in the moment.

So this change of location is not about finding myself, as I’m sure many have interpreted. I am myself and will always be; it’s more about finding oxygen and from there, remembering myself. Remembering my passions, remembering how to define myself as a true artist and how to live the creative, crazy spiritual artist lifestyle in the healthiest, most balanced way possible. It’s about starting anew and trying to make sense of all the connections and opportunities I’ve lost because of my inability to be present and process. Before breathing clearly, I was only half (or less than half) alive.

Since my ability to integrate my travel experiences and live my daily experiences with full breath, I’ve felt the true magic in the air and have noticed odd patterns which make me wonder who is responsible for writing my life as though it is a mystical fairytale fiction novel– not quite the one I’m writing with my own hand. Then I quickly remember there are, in fact, a few suspects {wink}.

The fairytale is very clever and witty. The characters are truly authentic and eccentric, involving mysticism, wizards, fairies, angels, saints, witches, dwarfs, giants, potions, apples, mushrooms, numerology, astrology, and a play on names when it comes to town names and people names (including my own). The key theme is immortality, hence the town’s name “Evergreen”– it’s definition meaning forever young, or never-aging. I assume it an effect of the landscape and perhaps the timeless fairies floating amongst the pines here which cause the inhabitants to believe in such a thing as immortality. At times I have guessed that perhaps my middle-aged protagonist, whom I portray in first person, has thrown me into this mystical place to regain my own identity separate from hers in order to reverse my age. It is one thing being an old soul… another to completely take on physical aspects of old age which nobody seems to understand.

The metaphors are deeply defined and overwhelming in number. The plot is an everlasting comical twist that ascends in deeper, more complicated bends every day and every hour. However, the setting is a bit stereotypical, taking place in a mystical forest land where time is irrelevant and which nobody seems able to place in geography… and the author, whomever she may be, has apparently experienced a block in creativity when it comes to naming characters. I plead no offense to any of the multiple unique variations of Adrian’s, Adrienne’s, and Adrianne’s; Kathy’s, Cathy’s, and Katherine’s; Valerie’s or Victoria’s; Kevin’s or KevinAnn’s; Elizabeth’s and Beth’s; and Brooke’s– this greatly simplifies the process of remembering for which I am grateful and amused, but also confused.

Well, what more can you expect to find when you literally throw your fate to the winds of cosmic destiny?

There are people who were born with a clear motive on how to direct their life paths, hurdling effortlessly over any obstacles; those are the people who breathe clearly and have a strong mindset that won’t let judgements of others get in their way. This is not the way I was at the time I made a “decision” to move. At this time two months ago, I wasn’t even sure when I was making decisions or when I wasn’t. I was in such a miserable state of confusion in which all my former “career paths” had fallen through, and I was so accustomed to letting others make decisions for me that I couldn’t trust my own intuition although I had greatly defined it during the course of my solo travels. I wanted the best for myself, but had no idea how to go about that at this point. I heard Elizabeth Gilbert’s voice in my head, Not this. God, not this. Anything but this. I hadn’t a clue how Cheyenne was negatively affecting my physical, emotional, and spiritual health but I knew my time here was becoming less and less purposeful. It was taking too much effort to be in sync with the flow. I couldn’t find a flow there anymore.

In a mere state of amusement and curiosity, I found myself making a list of intentions under the header, A Place I Will Call Home. Among this list of 11 intentions were: (6) Genuinely happy people (7) People to play music with (8) Able to express myself freely… (10) Always healthy. I then proceeded to brainstorm places I thought might be potential candidates for such specific qualities of change I desired in my life. Just for the fun of it. This list of towns began with the places I dreamed of most, places I thought my soul obviously belonged like Taos, Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Durango, or Grand Junction. I even included Laramie and Fort Collins just to be fair to them because I could logically pinpoint potential, though I’d lived in both cities before and couldn’t find a reason to stay. Just as I was cutting up each of these places to set into a box, I heard a voice in my head that clearly whispered, “Evergreen”.

It was a word that had been showing up in my path for about a year, so nothing compared to all my four billion North Carolina or California signs.  My first impression of Evergreen’s significance in my path was that perhaps it was a parallel town to that of my fiction novel I’ve been attempting to write for over seven years now. I thought maybe I was supposed to retreat in a log cabin for awhile to gain more experience and write. It never occurred in my mind that I would live here in official residency and work on living my own life instead of writing fiction; I wasn’t necessarily a fan of snow or hidden tourist-y mountain towns where driving a car every day is mandatory. Regardless, I jotted Evergreen onto my paper and threw it in the box with all my other fantasy town options. Asking for guidance from the highest source, I called upon my intentions and highest guides as I pulled my answer.

Evergreen.

Alright, Universe. I’d already made my intentions clear, so was it possible this could actually be the answer? I didn’t doubt it. I decided to go with it instead of fighting against it. Evergreen, Colorado is a town of less than 10,000 people. All I knew was that I needed a new, fulfilling job and a place to live asap. I began looking right away, and found some possible opportunities in Golden, Colorado so I thought perhaps the Universe had been leading me towards a town a little more realistic to thrive in. Still, I couldn’t forget that voice in my head. Why would I hear such a specific answer, albeit random and unusual? I applied for some jobs in Golden, not anticipating much to happen. While I waited for a response or some kind of clearer answer towards my life direction, I spent the week applying for jobs in Cheyenne in case that really was my only option.

A week later, I still hadn’t heard anything from any of the places I’d applied at! (Except for one in Taos, but for some reason I couldn’t make myself call back). I began searching for jobs again, following any spark of inspiration that popped into my head. My fingers led me to click after click, guided by something other than my logical mind. I found myself searching all Natural Grocers positions in Colorado. I scrolled and found multiple different cities, but there was one that stood out to me. I began applying to the Evergreen Natural Grocers, somewhat peeved I had to go through the process of applying after I’d applied for the Cheyenne location so many times and my well-thought-out responses had seemingly been lost somewhere in cyberspace, unread. I shouldn’t have to try so hard, I thought. This was a phrase that had been in my subconscious mind quite frequently.

In the middle of filling out the application, my phone rang with the caller ID reading Denver, Colorado.  I answered, inquisitively. It was the manager of the Evergreen Natural Grocers..! I was bewildered. How was this possible, when I hadn’t even submitted my application? He wanted me to come in for an interview. Though it was two hours away, I agreed to coming in three days later because what else could I do with my time while I waited for the right opportunity?  It was as though we had a psychic connection somewhere in the cosmos as the mutual agreement happened to be on a Thursday. I remembered this was also the day a popular coffee shop in town held an open mic, and began to get excited.

The outcome? “Well, we’re definitely interested. It’s just going to be difficult finding a place to live here in the middle of October, so give us a call if you find a place to live!” Both managers and all the workers possessed such genuine, humorous and lighthearted qualities I hadn’t seen in any of my previous jobs situations. I had a feeling something would work out, I just didn’t see how. I did have a cousin who lived in the area, just not ideally close. After the interview, I stopped at a crystal/metaphysical shop where I had a thorough conversation about abundance and manifestation with an intuitive witch who wore a witch hat, along with two customers named Jeannie and Jeanine. I was persuaded into purchasing citrine for better luck with abundance. All three women encouraged me that I would find the perfect place to live; they were certain I was heading in the right direction already and everything would fall into place. I believed them, and was reminded of this every time I held the golden citrine.

After I left, I knew I should have gone to explore Evergreen more thoroughly if this was a potential place of residency. For some reason, I drove in the opposite direction. In the time I had before the open mic, I drove down Highway 73 in admiration of the foothills’ golden beauty. This specific drive along 73 was so familiar with ancient beauty, and though I’d travelled this highway before, I was always seeing something new and interesting. I didn’t know where I was going. Morrison? I didn’t really feel like traveling that far before the open mic. About 7 miles down, I had a spontaneous thought to stop at the nearest park to practice with my guitalele so I would be prepared. The weather was beautiful and the sun was still shining at around 5pm. I immediately spotted Lair O the Bear wildlife lookout and park, just as soon as I had this thought. I made a sharp fork downward into the canyon floor.

There were three different paths to take as I exited my car with my guitalele in hand. I followed my intuition straight into the forest of aspens and cottonwoods, much contrasting the forest of pines, conifers, and firs that made up Evergreen just a few miles away. I stumbled upon the lively creek (Bear Creek, another recurring name I’d encountered all throughout my travel journey) where I heard bluegrass music mingling with the rushing of the creek. Two older men stood at the bank with instruments in hand, while their wives and another couple sat listening on the man-made tiers of the bank. They all greeted me with warm, amused smiles as I encroached upon their setting.

“I guess I came to join the jam,” I said.

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They were overjoyed by my presence, as I was with theirs. We jammed together for about an hour, drinking wine by the creek. These were also humorous, light-hearted people whom I felt a sense of kinship with, as though I’d already known them all before we introduced ourselves. We took pictures and exchanged numbers. All of them lived in Denver, so I felt fortunate to have met them at such a strange time! I drove back into town feeling rejuvenated by the Bear Creek air. Already my breath and my mind were a little clearer; I didn’t feel so overwhelmed. I felt at home, like I’d found a rare treasure in this landscape.

The magical witch showed up at the open mic to see me, along with her Brazilian friend and another musician friend. I connected with this other friend right away, and again we spoke of the way crystals and positive affirmations manifest abundance. She said she was excited to play music with me. “Wait, you’re not going to Cheyenne tonight, are you?” She invited me over to her home to play music afterwards. So just like that, I had a new friend to play music with. This was the highlight of my Evergreen experience that day, and we spoke of a potential cabin which might be available for me to rent around December.

However, I came back to Cheyenne the next day carrying the weight of finding a living situation if I were serious about taking this new job. For a single day, I was in a frantic frenzy over it. Then, suddenly, I remembered my new friend Jennifer was from Idaho Springs and I acted on my spontaneity to ask her if she knew anyone who might be able to rent a room. I hadn’t expected anything significant in return, but it was an idea. Jennifer gladly posted this inquiry for me on an online Facebook site, and sent me back a response the next day. This had been the only response, posted by a woman named Cathy. I called Cathy the next day, who openly stated she enjoyed talking to me. By the time our conversation ended, she concluded that she was so excited for my move as though she’d already made the decision to have me live with her although we hadn’t met.

Exactly one week later, I was settled into the magical purple room in the forest and working happily at Natural Grocers– the place I’d associated with “home” in my south-most travels explained in Day 14: I-25 NM Decisions & Conclusions. Working in a health-focused environment in the Denver-metro forest would turn out to be the perfect place of retreat and rejuvenation for my mind, body, and spirit. At first, I was moving with the flow… the flow of Bear Creek. At times, however, there are certain stones we must swim around. I couldn’t simply toil upon a stone at the edge of the bank, growing mold forever. I was taking the path of least resistance, but there has been much expansive work to do here.

More details of the forest fairytale to be continued…

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‘We’ve all got holes to fill, and them holes are all that’s real. Some fall on you like a stone, sometimes you dig your own. The choice is yours to make, and time is yours to take. Some dive into the sea, some toil upon the stone.’ – To Live is to Fly

‘Now she stands on the forest floor, among the pines and towering firs. Rock still firm beneath her feet; bird perched high above her, singing songs of love’s betrayal. ‘I offered you my endless sky. You countered with hoods and chains. This song I sing will be the last I sing to be inspired by your memory.’ – “Rock and Bird”, Cowboy Junkies

® Camille M. Garcia, 2016

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Day 8: Durango- Silverton Train

September Retreat

September 24, 2016

I was a little disappointed when I realized, at midnight, that the Durango- Silverton train left at 8:00am that morning. This meant I’d carried in my suitcase and had become so comfortable with my temporary room 8 miles out of town, yet I  would have to leave this settlement in seven hours. img_3093

I was glad I did. Drowsy as I was, waking up purposely at 5am, I arrived unprepared without a ticket. So naturally, I couldn’t catch the train that departed at 8am. I had to catch the 8:45 instead.

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Trains leaving downtown Silverton, Colorado

One thing I learned throughout my travels, applying to every location I went, was that I was never alone. I remember a dear one’s fear before I departed, saying I would be lonely in places where I didn’t know anybody. But if I was already lonely in a place where I knew everybody, what did I have to loose?

Instead, I found that strangers I became acquainted with during this trip were so open to conversation and dining– things I’d been forever wanting to happen for a year, but never did. After the train ride, I was invited to dinner with other passengers whom I dared to meet when I finally ventured out onto the open-air coach. We were all exhausted after being exposed to the freezing weather and snow in Silverton. We were also all travelers on interesting journeys~ one of which happened to be a parallel journey to my own (leaving one’s apartment and going solo despite the “crazy” remarks of others because it is simply part of one’s life path), only headed the opposite direction (north).

His quest was to find a hidden treasure. Literally. Apparently, Forrest Fenn hid a chest full of elaborate treasures somewhere within the Rocky Mountains, five years ago, and created a cryptic poem containing clues on how to find it. Thousands of people have attempted to search for the treasure but have not yet succeeded. I wish him the best of luck finding this treasure. However, he did mention that the treasure could simply be analyzed to mean what is found in the journey itself.

Though the weather was not comfortable, the company was so comforting and the meal at the end of the day was so satisfying.

Just in time to go hunt for the tipi after dark in the middle of nowhere- Hesperus, CO which was almost half an hour away -that I had booked on Air BNB because I couldn’t think of any faster or more interesting option. It had been used by John Denver at some point, and I was hoping that I would be inspired by any creative energy he left behind while sleeping in this tipi. There was just one problem: snow on the ground.

to be continued…

Day 6: Solo biking, solo wine tasting, and multi-collaborative open mic

September Retreat
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Beginning of my bike ride along the Colorado River in Palisade and Clifton, CO.

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I cannot get over the energy I obtained while in the presence of those beautiful mesas.

I instantly found that downtown Palisade is easily the friendliest place on Earth. I took my time speaking with all the store owners who were full of inspiration and compliments.

My wine tastings in Wine Country were so enjoyable. I was referred to St. Kathryn’s Cellars, where I tasted various different fruity wines in the back room. These were, by far, my favorite. In the front room, I talked with the servers and tasted more prominent wines. All were delicious. I also savored fudge tastings, while I was at it. The last three photos were taken at Red Fox Cellars, where I stopped in but did not partake in wine tastings here.

img_3006I believe the highlight, and most magical part of this day and the ending of my Palisade/ Grand Junction journey was playing at an open mic with a kindred spirit I’d met only two days earlier. I persuaded another friend who happened to live in Grand Junction to participate in open mic as well– someone I had known as the result of frequently attending open mics in Cheyenne. This night definitely made me feel at home. I met so many friendly, welcoming musicians and friends of musicians at Rockslide in Grand Junction. Although it was a cold night, I didn’t notice, because there was so much warmth in the collective music scene.

1234: Moving Forward

Numerology

In all honesty, I am not even quite sure of what “numerology” actually means. My definition of numerology may be similar or completely different than the general public’s definition. Regardless, I have begun a new category of my blog dedicated to Numerology because of the mystery this theme presents to me.

Numbers have had their way of attracting my attention for about 4 years. I’m not saying I was ever a big fan of math class… but when I was, I was translating professor language to my deeper-understanding-of-the-universe language. Yeah, I had some huge philosophical revelations throughout my latest stages of math. It all came down to balancing the negatives and the positives in order to create an equilibrium.

And so it is with life.

But I’m not just talking about the positives and negatives, the yin and the yang of numerology. I’m talking persistent 111s on every corner of every street that so many people are catching onto nowadays. Well, for me, I don’t just have 111s following me around. I have 222s, 221s, 211s, 311s, 511s, 212s, 555s, and 444s— sometimes sequences of 18 4s in a row— nagging me to WAKE UP and notice them. And finally I asked, WHY?? WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME?

They said, We’re not just on Earth. We can’t answer that question. So, okay, Universe. Okay, larger sums of the vast oceans and skies. Okay, magical thread that ties us all together. I’m listening.

This is my mission to uncover the persistent patterns in numbers occurring on multiple occasions throughout my daily life. Numbers are everywhere… pay attention to your total when you’re buying coffee, dinner, gas, etc. The other day, I asked HP (see “On Signs from HP) if there was any kind of knowledge I could benefit from by the sum of my gasoline price. I had a nearly-empty tank and gas was running about 1.43 per gallon. I’d kind of forgotten about my question as the tank was filling, until the handle automatically released and the rapidly changing numbers came to a halt.

$12.34! (#PerksOfGoodGasMileage+LivingInWyoming, Right? No. That’s not the point.)

I laughed out loud and smiled to the heavens. I knew clearly what message was being relayed; it was something I’d been questioning all week. Was I really getting anywhere with all my endeavors in life? Was there really any point in trying to be motivated? And they answered yes. 1234 is a consecutive increasing number sequence. I translated it to mean I Was gradually moving forward, even if I didn’t feel like I was. And somehow, I felt I was supported by beings and ideas I could not see.

My feet had bee in chronic pain, like all my bodily energy was drained to my feet, stuck, getting crushed with each step. It is not until I am writing this that I realize how this correlates to my pain with moving forward. It physically hurt me to move forward, and I hadn’t figured out exactly how much heaviness had stuck on my feet until this moment.

It was my fear of imperfection. It was procrastination.  The numbers 1234 were encouraging me to move forward. They said, Stop procrastinating. You can accomplish anything you choose. We believe in you. What if “we” was a whole lineage of encouragement? Today, four days later, my feet feel light and my energy is high. I actually feel as though I’m floating on my feet, like the ground is as soft as Cloud 9. I have created an organized plan of steps to being successful in music, writing, and art. For the first time in awhile, I believe in all the dreams I’ve had for four years.

 

 

truth behind coincidence

Small Miracles

“I don’t understand what it is,” I kept complaining (though I’m sure I sounded grateful) to everyone who would at least not think I’m completely crazy. “I don’t understand why these ‘coincidences’ occur all the time. Anything that I say– or even think about subconsciously for two seconds– happens.” And then I would elaborate, and receive the general response:

“Wow, that is strange. You should start thinking about me winning the lottery.”

It was rare to receive a genuine answer, and I desperately wanted one. Of course, I’m a master at creating my own hypotheses, regardless of whether or not they are logical. So, naturally, I formed a partially logical conclusion: it was karma. It was because of those inspirational anonymous acts of kindness the short-lived “change the world” movement I was a part of last summer worked so hard to achieve. Our acts were so random that the universe had to really think hard to compete with us, but as far as I knew I was the only one receiving such constant synchronistic signs. Or was that just because I was more aware and accepting of these mysteries? I had also come to the conclusion that these occurrences weren’t simply mysterious coincidences; they were miracles.

Still, I refused to acknowledge my own underlying beliefs about the origins of miracles because my beliefs had been challenged in more ways than I could accommodate for in the past few years.

It wasn’t until my former best friend called me in college (which was also a spontaneous miracle because I had been wishing I could call her just seconds before) that I received an answer. A real, confident, non-sarcastic answer that I would have never pictured her saying– or even thinking– in person, and especially not over the phone. Yet her voice was assuring, not in the least way awkward, and not in the least way like her to say. Her life didn’t reflect those words. Her mother would certainly never believe she told me this. I wouldn’t have ever believed she would tell me this after I rambled on about all these strangely inconceivable miraculous happenings, but she did:

“You know, God works in mysterious ways and I think he’s on your side forever.”

I was speechless. Yes, I wanted to say, You are completely right. At this moment, my perspective of my own friend I felt I knew as a sister flipped a one-eighty. She was so much wiser than me, although she had always labeled me as the “wise” sister. I wanted to tell her this, and ask her where this profound confident knowledge was coming from.

He’s not on my side, though. All the things I’ve accomplished I’ve had to do all on my own. I’ve never had any help from him or anyone else,” she continued. “You’re lucky.”

Did this luck last forever? Or do I have to be seeking it? Seeking Him?

I couldn’t see her eyes when she told me this, but now I imagine they would look similar to those of the girl I received my second real answer from. We were lounging in cushioned chairs, consuming forkfuls of carrot cake as I rambled off my multiple stories to her while our mutual best friend gazed into her cell phone and temporarily became lost in a different dimension (after telling us a strange occurrence of her own which I will write about later).

The track star, the rebel, the girl whose heart continues to be shattered day after day, did not even mention the word “weird” in her response. She glanced off to the side, her gaze fixed on something invisible,  and she was smiling– almost smirking. She turned back to me and said, simply,

“You’ve been touched by an angel. That’s what it is.”

“Maybe,” I said and immediately regretted it. She, too, was also wise beyond what her life reflects. I shouldn’t have even questioned her knowledge.

She shrugged. “That’s what it is. I wish these things would happen to me like they do to you two.”

That night, I pondered if it was really that simple for an angel to reach down from heaven and brush my shoulder. Then I suddenly remembered a time when someone, a stranger to me, hugged me and said, “You have just been hugged by an angel.” I was filled with more skepticism than ever at the time, but now I wonder if it’s true. Or perhaps I have been touched by multiple angels, which I wouldn’t doubt.

Perhaps I will never know why they happen, but I have learned throughout the past few years one sure thing: there really are no coincidences.