Ring the Bell!

What have I done with my broken heart up to now? I GAINED weight, lost control of my blood sugar, lost my creative edge, lost my sense of humor, lost my song. I say enough! He has taken enough of my soul. I have given away enough. I have squandered too much. Let this bell ring for healing and peace.

Foolish Love

I feel like such a fool. It hasn’t been two months since I felt like I was in love and now I can’t even imagine how I could have felt that way. What a fool I have been. How stupid of me to wait to speak to him every day as if it were the highlight of the day. How stupid to wait for him to smile. What an idiot I was. What a fool. What a sorry sop to listen to him sing the chalisa as if he were singing about our own love instead of sita and ram. Stupid me. I am a true fool.

I felt alive and creative. I felt valuable. I felt wanted, not in a sexual way, but in a wholesome, I am so glad you are alive- way.

It felt true but it was all a lie, wasn’t it? How did I not see that? I am the one who is so intuitive! How did I not see through it?

I feel like I never want to speak to him again.

I also feel like I’m not real, not creative, not valuable. I feel like a piece of toilet paper stuck on the bottom of someone’s shoe as they come out of a truck stop bathroom that quickly blows away when they step outside into the New Mexico Wind.

Shri Ram Jai Ram Jai Jai Ram, Shri Ram Jai Ram Jai Jai Ram

Sepia Cows and Kindergarten Pants

The dream was a jumble of garish colors and blocks of geometric shape. There was the rectangular bed of an 18 wheeler with a cow in the front seat and i was trying to pull in to get gas for someone but they only wanted two dollars worth and i thought it was a waste of effort to pull in to such a tight spot for two dollars worth of gas.
There was a girl in the seat and she was pregnant but she was returning the baby for a cup of black truck stop coffee which I thought was horrible. Once again, I was trying to drive the truck from the back seat which made me feel very much out of control.
Then I was in elementary school to drop off a kindergarten boy. He was uncomfortable in his new clothes. The pants were pinstriped and stiff-starched. They were the color of an afternoon in 1942.
Of course, in between the school and the truck stop there were large blocks of strange art and cows and random shapes. Confusion.

I really want to be clear, to be focused. But this is my mind.

This is where I have to start.

Not too long ago I was dreaming of a graduation from school. I said goodbye to a mafia type gang of bad guys. I thought I’d be moving to a school that was a little higher up. But no, here I am in a truck stop parking lot looking for two dollars worth of gas while a pregnant girl returns her baby for a cup of black coffee. Yuck.

There was another scene wedged bewteen the truckstop and school. It was a motel room atop the truck stop. There was a sleezy guy there and I was looking for a clean bathroom. There weren’t any. All the stalls were backed up. There is that 1942 color again…the same sick sepia that says your life is over but you are living it again.

Nightmare! Now do I get to wake up?

Now do I get to wake up?




Yes. Now I can honestly say that I am waking up.

There are others here.

I am not alone.

For Shame!

“How could she write about such shameful things?” 

“Some things are better left unsaid; better to leave THOSE monsters under the bed, dear.”

I guess it is time to examine my motives for writing this blog in the first place. What do I hope to gain? Fame? Validation for my pain? If I write about my experiences will it somehow make them easier to bear, but why the hell would I write about things that would make me look bad? Why would I write about anything that would make me feel ashamed of myself?

It’s because I am writing for Truth because I have been told that the truth will set me free and I believe it.

Shame burns. It feels like I’m a vampire and I’ve walked into the sunlight. The thing I wrote about demons is embarrassing and it takes a great deal of courage to leave it as it is.

If I can sit with the shame and pray while I feel it I can be healed from whatever causes the shame. Exposing the problem to the light is a good thing no matter how uncomfortable it may be.

I learned how to sit with shame when I prayed the sorrowful mysteries of the rosary. When Jesus was stripped of his clothing and shamed for being ‘just a man’ he suffered humiliation. He didnt have to. But there is grace to be found in being able to suffer humiliation for a greater good.

I am willing to suffer the humiliation of people finding out that I am not perfect for the greater good of reaching others who might be suffering in the same way. There may be someone out there who is perfectly delightful and creative and loving and full of hope and joy and good energy but who is also plauged by some secret fear or dark worry, and I want to be a friend to that person.

I am tired of the ‘demons’ making us cower and hide in fear. It is time to throw off the covers and stop being ashamed of who we are and what we have to deal with. Chances are that there are solutions for the problems we face that seem shamefully insurmounatble in secret.

I don’t know what the ‘ugly faces’ were that used to fly at me when I was a little girl. I don’t know if they were memories or parts of myself or what they were. And I don’t know if the parasites that I deal with now are real or not. It doesn’t seem to matter if they are real to anyone else. They are a problem for me and I need a way to deal with them that works for me.

So far, the Reiki that my friend  gave me has worked better than any other treatment I have tried. He gave me Reiki with the instructions to be extra gentle with my skin and kind to myself. He didn’t call me crazy or freak out (in front of me) even when I showed him the video–the proof of parasite.

What have I learned?

  1. That I write for Truth even if it means I have to suffer a little shame because I believe the truth will set me free and I want to be free.
  2. That freedom means I get to use my experiences to help other people know they are not alone—that we are all more alike than not and that we are lovable.


For years I thought I was being possessed by demons. I’d lie awake till the sun came up, clutching the covers to my chin and watching for the ugly faces that would come flying at me from the dark. Horrbile, bloody faces of girls with matted hair flew at me faster than lightning and vanished before they hit mmy own face. I was terrified.

I thought I was being possessed because the bed shook. When I realized it was the pounding of y own heart that was shaking the bed I began to think maybe I could find a way to get control of the situation.

I don’t know how I knew this, but I decided that the only way to get rid of the ugy faces was to love them. So one night, when they started to fly at me, I held my ground. I looked at them and said over and over, “i love you. I love you.”

They turned into my own face and then disappeared. They have not come back in that way since. But they did come back as parasitic devils that have tortured me for almost 8 years.

I know the parasites are real, but I can’t get anyone to help me. They are hideous; they look like devils or stupid clowns or worms and bugs or hairs that twist and turn and snap.

If I ignore them they fall off of me and I feel like a walking contaminant. If I try to remove them I have a bloody face.

My doctor saw one for herself and she said, “it is exactly as she describes it.” That made me feel good because it meant I wasn’t crazy. She referred me to a doctor in Albuquerque. But now they are saying they wont see me unless my doc can prove I have parasites! She cant prove anythinng and that is why she sending me to the experts! I swear it is fucking stupid1 I am sick of al of it.

I am not even trying to make this a polished piece of writing. I dont have spell check on thhis tablet and i dont have my computer here and i dont have a way to get to a computer till january. But i need to write.

I need to write even if no one reads

My face is a bloody mess It is better after a friend did a reiki treatment. I will ask for another if he wouldnt mind.

My heart is still broken and I dont even know why.

Do I have to love the parasites?

Hold Your Tongue

Omg I did it again.

I told someone I am irritating because I’m smart! Gasp! What an ass! And I didn’t mean it like it sounded.

What I meant was:

I may be high energy and emotional and you can put over there in the cry room and give me paint and let me take naps and have snacks. I’ll grow up and all is well.

But that is not what I said.

I said, we smart people can go do our weird stuff and co m e up with relativity and then we will all be happy.

Messed up!!!

I am sorry-! So very sorry.

Thank you Kali for chopping my ego down!

Sat nam!

Filipendula Ulmaria

She stands beside the medicne Buddha, sipping the sound

of water as it washes against the shore.

Baby birds, making no attempt to be coy,

chirp loud and screech and caw at mother and father for , “More! More! More!”

Filipendula Ulmaria waits for her best friend, the wind,

whose rhythm bewteen visits is dissonant,

like the surprise event that preceeds harmonic thrill;

and she knows he will arrive,

but she never knows just when he will.

End Note: This little poem is for a friend who made an effort to pronounce my name correctly. It caught me by surprize and the pleasant conversation and calm by which he makes his way in the the world is medicine for my aching soul right now. I attempted to paint the flowering herb Meadowsweet or Queen of the Meadow. It grows on tall stalks by the water and it is one of the most useful and sweet smelling herbs known to man. Its leaves are fresh and minty and are used as often as the flowers in many healing rememdies. While you cant really make out what is in the painting, i hope  it leaves a little permeability in your imagination for a calm, fragrant spot by the water where the Medicine Buddha waits with a cure.

The poem was going to be about pandualism and the permeability of elecrtomagnetic energy as it may be useful in healing by people who know how to use such hard to phathom forces. Well, maybe it still is, because when Tom was kind to me, even after I made everyone so uncomfortable with my display of raw hurt and broken humanity, it was as if he brought me to the medicine Buddha himself instantaneously who mixed just the right properties of fresh air and birdsong, water and light into my being so that time could stretch out a little, relax and flow a little slower into another day and then another.

Thank you, Tom.

 Now I see a flaw in this and it scares the he’ll out of me. I’m too expressive. I’m too friendly. It always blows up in my face. Please, God, don’t make a gushing crushing yuck bucket of pluck. Help me curtail my creativity so that no one feels overwhelmed. I apologize a head of tome for being the way I am.

Falling Is Better

I left.

I had enough. The sangha was not helpful anymore. It was pulling me down.

I was beginning to feel ashamed for having something to say.

I was, once again Too Much.

So I left.

I didn’t think I could breathe without them. But I’m doing just fine.

I’m like the kid who thought she was drowning in an in of water. Someone said, ” Lift up your head and stand up.”

(Update: November 16)

Well! That sounded pretty damn crazy!! If you didn’t know the whole story it would sound like a telling interview with someone about to be admitted to a nice soft room with cozy, padded walls. 

The whole sound and vibration thing is about my long time interest in the healing properties of sound. I think that the human voice can be one of the best healing tools we have. I am intrigued by how energy and intent is delivered by sound. The reason I was so upset was that I felt no one would hear what I was trying to say.

The whole issue at Sangha got out of hand because there was some kind of wall between me and the people I tried to talk to…everything came out distorted and no one got the message…or so it seemed.

Somehow I was talking about things one one level. Then, whatever I said was distorted into some other message…IDK!

IDK what kind of shift occurred, but there was some weird shift all the same. I get a mental image of the worm hole scene in the move Contact. I will try to explain it better later on.   https://youtu.be/scBY3cVyeyA

I Love You. I Am Leaving

Breaking up with a sangha is harder than breaking it off with one person.

When you break up with your spiritual community you lose a whole safety net. But that is what I had to do because the net bad become corrupted.

Here is the brief run down. I was deeply hurt when it happened so the writing sucks.


People who are 58 and not looking to fall in love, fall. And guess what, it is just as thrilling and just as devastating as it is when you are are a teenager.

This time it happened to me while I was taking a meditation course online. It was called The Yoga of Relalatioships by Ram Dass.

I didn’t think I wanted to know about relationships because I was certainly finished with romantic fiascos after the last disaster 10 years ago. And I had a blind spot to the other interactions with people, like relatives and friends, I don’t why I sent realize those counted as relationshis too. But I signed up for the class because I was invested in Ram Dass. Has changed my life and I wanted to be learning from him even if it was about something as insignificant as relationships.

I had written a song for him in appreciation for his help in a previous course, but since I can’t play and sing (or walk and chew gum) at the same time, I was always looking for a real musician to sing and play it so I could fade into the background. I am better if you think of me as an invsible ray of warm sunlight. if you shine the light too bright, too close, well, I’m not very pretty.

Sorry. I am feeling pretty horrible right now. I know it will pass, but it still hurts a lot.

I look too manly and it pisses me TF off! And it makes me angry that i even care.

But it was his fault too! he was out of line. He did not respect boundaries. H made a Vulnerable Chalisa with his shirt off for his friend (it was me) who was feeling vulnerable. And he would tell me he thought about me all day and that he felt his entire spine fill up with with energy and so many other things. So it wasnt all my fault. He led me on. Then he changed the game and didnt tell anyone.

He blindsided me. One day he was my best friend. The next day it was likt we didn;t even speak the same language. He accused me of trying to read into him or read his mind. bullshit!

I bought it at first. I blamed myself. But that is stupid. If I intuit something and it is wrong, then fucking tell me! Don:t break me and make me weep and tell me I am messing with your energy and trying to read your your thoughts or whatever bullshit you were spouting that day.

So then I write a song about a dragon and a fish because the fish is the unconcious, emotional and dragon is the thinking, air—the thought and he is a dragon. The song is intense with rich meaning and I will write more when Im not so angry. And it is a good song! Its fun to sing and it would be fun to sing with a sangha bcause it has a meditation and mantra at the end.

So I made the video and sent it but I regretted it instantly. I looked like an ulgy, old witch.

On the inside I am beautiful and graceful and playful and young and it doesn’t hurt when I walk and I can still run and dance and I’m a good Effing dancer! And my legs are long and firm from all the yoga I do and they are not full of crumbling bones like these fucking things I have now. But I saw myself as I looked that day and I was hideous.

And YES i am having an ego crash. nd Yes I am grateful for that. i learned a lot from this course and even from the relationship that ended up hurting so much.

But I digress.

I thought I was beyond the need for a class on relationships but didn’t wast to go through Ram Dass withdrawal, and I’d written a song but couldn’t sing it and along comes a man could could.

I asked if he would look at it and see if he could figure out it it had any value. And he liked it. And he said Ram Dass would love it. But he said Ram Dass would like it with My voice.

That was the think that sunk me. I have always wanted to use my voice to heal and provide comfort for people. that hat been a long time dream. And when he made such a big deal out of it, i felt like it was destiny finally coming to take me by the hand.

We started saying I love you. We use those words a lot around sangha.

This man was way out of my league as they say. He was so full of light. Obviously much more Yoga Fit that I was, especially after I had been fighting an auto immunite disease and had given up of yoga until a few months prior to that class. I was a wreck. But he liked my song. And he liked me, but now I can’t even remember why.

Fuck! It sucks to feel all these things at my age.

Well, he was a dazzle! And he is smart and beautiful and spiritual and funny and I fell in love. I felt like I could share my soul with him!

And, at first I thought he was gay, so I didn’t think we had to worry about sexual tension.!

People always think I am flirting, both men an women because I am very affectionate and enthusiastic. I’m friendly and people can’t figure me out. But with this guy, I thought he was gay because he said he only loved Ram Dass 100 %.

And there was other talk about a life partner and some confusion about other issues and i just thought he was gay.

Maybe he is. I don’t know. But I started having feelings for him that we freaking me TF out.

I was absolutely in love. I didn’t want to build a life with him. Nothing like that…i just couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was like a fever

But things got screwed up. He started acting like I was trying to read his mind and I don’t even know what he meant.

All I know now is that I am afraid to be myself around him. I’m afraid of being too much just like I’ve always been around most people.

I resent him a little and I’ll have to work that out because resentments will kill me. I resent him for allowing me to be wild and free and freaking out. I understand too though, I guess. It just makes me feel like a hideous monster.

Long story short:

I thought I was No one, then I was some one, then I was special, then I was a monster, then I was no one, now I’m just an ugly old woman who fell in love with someone beautiful and realized it was stupid and then had a spiritual breakthrough and some definite interventions from ram dass on the spirit plane and then wrote a pretty cool song about a dragon (the guy) and a fish(the lady)

That’s all I m going to say. Except that I will have more to say.