Entanglement

After years of struggling, whining, worrying and turning a deaf ear to my screaming inner voice, I have surrendered. You know what happens when you surrender, when you stop, breathe, listen and do? Everything. Everything happens. The things that you have prayed for, they come. The dreams that you've dared to dream are not "somewhere over the rainbow." They are there, waiting for you, waiting for you to get out of your own way, so that they can be manifested in spades. So much energy is wasted in self loathing and doubt and all the reasons why you can't. When you finally shed that skin and are reborn, the Universe says YES, now let me get to work, let me show you. I'm sure whoever coined the phrase, let go and let God , did not intend for it to become some hollow cliché adopted by every self-help group under the sun. It is a phrase of action, of cause and effect, and it is powerful. Work hard in silence, let success be your noise. Big things are coming. Big! ...

In the last year, I have made forty-six job applications ranging from maid to bridal consultant, dog walker to bus driver, cashier to editorial assistant at Random House and everything in between. 46!  Eighteen just since January. I've updated my resume, I've made cover letters and I've taken all of the ridiculous mandatory assessment tests that measure my??? Intelligence? Ability? Skill level? What? Is that Myers-Briggs test really necessary to determine my qualifications to run a cash register, or to see if I play well with others? I'm fifty, not fifteen. I've been interviewed, fingerprinted, background checked and agreed to be drug tested. In thirty seven years, I've never had a job that wasn't customer service related, so why am I unhireable? I went on another interview yesterday. The woman spent five minutes with me, five . An hour later I got this email... Full disclosure, the job was for book seller at a major retail chain. I redacted the sto...

Art by Healarum @artmajeur.com I need a healing. The kind of unspoken healing that takes place at a good old fashioned southern holiness revival. I need the laying of hands on me, a spiritual crash cart to send shock-waves through my body and soul, wipe my brain, decalcify the pineal gland and allow me to feel anything again. I need a spiritual sister to look deep into and through me, to pull the darkness from my gut. Is it God that has stripped me bare and made me indifferent to life? Is He the One who has pulled back all the layers and flogged my being so raw, to prepare me for something I cannot yet see? Like the Son at the ninth hour, I feel forsaken. Please. Show me the way...     

Everyone struggles, no one is unique in this regard. To what degree everyone struggles is what makes it relative. Fleeing a war torn nation, drinking from polluted rivers, starvation, slavery and false imprisonment are all struggles that most of us will never know firsthand, thank God. Tell those people that their struggle builds character.  Right now, a ten year old little girl struggles with hearing the words... I wish you were never  born ...a high school freshman struggles with being raped, but never tells anyone because she thinks it's her fault. There's a flight attendant afraid and struggling in New York because she's being beaten by her boyfriend, there's a housewife in suburbia with two babes in diapers whose husband is cheating on her and she is struggling with why, there's an exhausted woman living next door to you who regularly struggles to keep her drunken man from choking on his own vomit while he sleeps, and another stretched so thin that she struggl...

There is, perhaps, no other beverage so insidious as alcohol. I got cold chills upon hearing the ancient origin of the word, from Arabic, Al-khul , meaning body eating spirit. It was believed that alcohol would extract the essence of the soul, leaving the body vulnerable to low frequency entities, leading to a host of questionable, sometimes immoral behavior and eventual blackout. The Body Eating Spirit and I have a long, sordid history together. She has been as much a part of my life as breath. She's been locked away going on five years now—but that doesn't stop her from rattling the cage. I had my first drink when I was twelve. I wasn't a fan of the taste, but of the warmth that consumed my body from the inside out, I fell in love. The insecure, shy, awkward, scared, fragile little girl, the essence of my true self, was put in the corner every time I raised a glass. Drinking made me feel beautiful, sexy, confident, jovial, and free. I adopted the,  it's five o'cl...

What is the point of the daily grind? It's monotonous, tedious and unfulfilling. I know there has to be more to life than this. Happiness should be the staple of my existence after vacating a toxic relationship, but by freeing myself from one prison, I've only succeeded in locking myself into another. Apathy is the mood du jour. Life is never going to be fulfilling unless I make it so, and that apathy operates like a Chick-fil-A drive thru during a lunch rush, handily feeding my motivation and good ideas with bags of I don't give a shit and I could care less.  Einstein said, "Everything is energy and that's all there is to it. Match the frequency of the reality you want and you cannot help but get that reality. It can be no other way. This is not philosophy, this is physics." This is the Law of Attraction, the Golden Rule, Karma, what goes around comes around...and it's easy to comprehend, hard to practice with consistency. You know why it's hard to b...

Sit and stare. Sit and stare. No focus. No motivation. Inner dialog that can't form a cohesive train of positive thought. Only frustration. Only negative. Only questions... Why? Why God?! Where is God? Why is this happening to me? What am I gonna do? Why won't anybody hire me? How am I going to pay bills? What's wrong with me? Where is my happiness? Where is my strength? Where is my motivation? Second guessing, second guessing, why, why, why??!! Apparently, I'm supposed to struggle. Builds character. My character is a basket case. No money. No food. No ideas. Twenty-two applications. No call backs. Bad haircut. Hate the way I look. Disappointment. Judgement. No one to talk to. Alone. In my head. With my thoughts. Sit and stare. Sit. And. Stare.