139: Loving Change (For The Weird People)

rom the "Humans of New York" project: "I have this theory. You ready? So we are on earth for a finite amount of time. And time is a manmade perception. And we perceive time passing through change-- seasons, aging, things like that. So to expand our time on earth, we must incite as much change in our lives as possible." "Interesting. I haven't heard that before." "That's because I made it up!"

From the “Humans of New York” project: “I have this theory. You ready? So we are on earth for a finite amount of time. And time is a manmade perception. And we perceive time passing through change– seasons, aging, things like that. So to expand our time on earth, we must incite as much change in our lives as possible.” “Interesting. I haven’t heard that before.” “That’s because I made it up!”

I am weird. Perhaps you observed this already but I bet you didn’t know how proud I am to be different and I bet you didn’t know that unlike most humans, I love change.

I don’t struggle with fearing change but that does not necessarily make my life any easier, I have a different struggle. This weirdness I love is a double edged sword. It makes me unique but also makes solving my issues more challenging because the advice to do so is not readily available and so I present a post to combat that imbalance. I hate imbalance. Let’s see what we can do for the weird people, shall we?

Whenever I see posts about change float across my inspiration feed (Facebook, blogs, books, etc.) they are almost exclusively about reminding people to accept change and go with the flow. Now I have realized, there is another side of change that ones of us prone to depression would be better advised to study. The masses are familiar with the idea that only constant is change but the reverse which we don’t discuss is the idea that whatever heaviness or pain you feel today, must eventually go away.

I have some injuries in my leg that have been a daily struggle for the last seven years. I find myself praying for change, my biggest fears are not at all related to the stuck-ness so many self-help gurus are speaking out against. Actually, what’s stuck is the idea that I’ll always be in pain, that at 16 my life ended and the new one built around pain began. I fear change will never come. Do you? I named this fear a week ago and since then, a whole new part of my being lit up and I felt energy flowing where I had never felt it before.

Here’s the thing: I don’t really know what to do about this fear other than naming it. It’s silly, I know change is constant and nothing lasts forever but fears are never logical. Actually, from past experience facing fears I know that this naming is half the battle but now that I’ve discovered the entrance to this deep well, I know there is a long way down left to climb. Using some of my favorite teachers’ advice, I’ve tried to identify the place in my physical body where I feel that fear. It’s in my stomach, the place identified as the third chakra. When I start to feel nauseous and unmotivated I look into this pain and ask it: what have you come to teach me? Since the third chakra is located at the solar plexus (the word solar=sun) where our power and fire is generated from, I have been reminding myself of my own ability to co-create change in my life with the help of energy from God/Nature/The Universe/Angels. Even the biggest clouds can be seen moving across the sky.

Here’s a mantra that just came to me from last week:

My energy is the energy of the universe.
My power is my own.

What do you love about change? What are you learning to love about change (i.e. things you might describe with that h-a-t-e word)? Was there a point in your life when change took on a new meaning for you? Share your experiences with change below!


Day 96: The Story Of The Happiest Meadow

Once upon a time there was a tiny sliver of a meadow sandwiched between a busy highway and a row of towering apartment blocks. The meadow was mostly forgotten but the inhabitants didn’t mind it that way, they liked that their only visitors were the joyful sun and beautiful moon. They felt safe among their wise friends, the tall pines and the wide birches who had seen the passing of as many seasons as lovers who had left their marks on their pale, ancient skins.

Every spring the time came when the meadow community would decorate itself in celebration of the returning insects and luxurious sunny days. The trees put on their greenest costumes and the grasses donned their happiest colors and the whole meadow was dazzling in its spectacular white, yellow and purple decorations. Such was the fame of this festive celebration that butterflies and humans alike came from all around to experience this much anticipated display.

Insects and bees came to the meadow again and spread the news of what each leaf and flower had been up to during the long, cold hibernation of the winter months. It was a joyous time in the tiny meadow. One spring, the festivities were punctuated by a sad discovery. One of the beloved elms that stood with a humble and friendly pride in the center of the meadow had fallen ill! The poor tree was showing signs of a contagious disease and the whole meadow was abuzz with the devastating news about their beloved friend.

As the spring festivities came to a gentle close, the warm lull of summer settled over the peaceful meadow and the days grew slowly longer. One morning a pair of men appeared at the edge of the meadow with their noisy, smelly metal boxes and machines. They shouted loudly to one another and threw their cigarettes to the ground, stomping them into the fertile soil as they stepped heavily across the meadow. These men were not holding hands or picnic lunches as most of the meadow’s visitors usually did and though the residents of the community perked up with their usual buzzing and blowing welcome, they quickly realized that something was not right.

When the men began to roar and their hands began to cut, the cries of the elms were louder than the highway and all the meadow seemed to shudder with sympathy. The pines looked to the sun and asked their friend, “Can’t anything be done?” The birds sang out to the moon, “Won’t you help our poor friend?” But their hope was no match for the passage of time. Their pleas were shortly silenced with the heavy thud of the elm, returning to the Earth from which he came. The grasses and insects gave a final hug to the old friend and his branches stroked their faces as he tenderly told them not to worry, he would be back.

Seasons passed, rains fell, winds blew, and the meadow became whole again in its new form. But always there remained the deep and strong roots of their old friend the elm, a testament to the love and place he would always have in the community. Bees, birds and butterflies would sit among the branches of the elm who remained and reminisce with her about the lover she once knew. New insects made their home above these fine, wise roots and the community grew up and around their scar for they didn’t know what else to do and that was their nature.

One brilliant spring day, in the midst of the meadow’s annual festivities, one particularly spectacular performance attracted a young girl from the nearby flats. All the insects ceased their buzzing and the trees watched apprehensively as the girl picked her way through the flowers with care. Gracefully and cautiously she headed to the grave of the old elm. The birds were impressed with the grace of her landing and once more the butterflies cheered with joy. The roots at last had found expression and life, a new tree was born, more beautiful than the last. The whole meadow glowed and everyone agreed that it was the most successful spring festival they had ever celebrated. The tall elm smiled down to her old companion and everyone cheered at once, “We knew you’d be back! Welcome home, dear friend!”

And that, my friends, is the story of the happiest meadow on which the sun ever shone.

Advice from a tree.

Advice from a tree.

Day 84: I Am An Intuitionist

This is the image that lead me to a beautiful new spiritual experience. See below for details!

This image of Archangel Uriel lead me to a beautiful new experience. See the bottom for details!

I Am An Intuitionist

I am not a Fill in the Blank.
I am not a Religion.
I am a Veronica.
I am an Intuitionist.

I use the name God
but I am not a Christian.
I pray to Lord Ganesha
but I am not a Hindu.

I quote the Buddha
but I am no Buddhist.
I speak about The Way
but I am no Taoist.

I’ve found it’s more fun this way
and I feel neither lonely nor confused
because when I am nothing and everything
there is no vocabulary to separate us.

Before I came along,
no one had ever lived this life.
So how can there already be a book
a perfect guide by which to live it?

There are many scriptures which resonate inside me
like memories sung by my choirs of ancestors;
as I write them down in my bible
my spirit dances the pages to life.

My intuition is the voice of God,
Shiva and Shakti dance to my heartbeat,
and borne up on angels’ wings
the Buddha cradles me in his lap.

When I pray I ask every one of the energies
that have ever been or will ever be
to surround me with their healing grace,
because I am just too humble to call them by name.

If you smell the stars and taste the clouds,
if the voice of God enters you on the wings of bird song
and the sky changes colors in response to your gratitude,
you are an Intuitionist, and I thank you for being.


Namaste ♥


The Equinox vibrations are still strong and the New Moon on Sunday promises to bring even more light into the reach of those who seek it. Please enjoy this beautiful meditation I found today; it touched something new, deep inside me and it is worth fifteen minutes of your time. Try listening to it lying down with your palms facing up and feel the uplifting energy surround you! Click here to enjoy a transcendental experience that is accessible to any and all human beings, regardless of experience or religion. It gave birth to this poem. Enjoy!