My Book, My Story

I’m writing less on my blog because I started writing my book. The book I’ve been saying I’m going to write for the last 2 years. It’s not at all what I thought I’d write about but isn’t life always like that? Never ending up the way we imagined? But still it’s what’s inside me, needing to come out. This story that needs to be told. It’s living inside me and I want it out. It’s time.

This is my story.

Staying Out Of The Dream

I want to live in the story that I wish to create, not someone else’s. What I mean by that a reality based on a set of belief systems drummed up by the majority of humans or specific individuals. To create a world that I can live in, that’s what is essential to my sanity and my happiness.

Every day the stories told by people about what they believe is real and stories of the world going on around me constantly attempt to pull me in. It takes daily vigilance to not get lost in the fog of it all, and come back to what I know to be real, what I know to be true.

I constantly weave in and out of clarity, going into the dream and then coming back out. Forgetting and relearning, over and over again.

In those moments, when I see everything exactly as it is, it’s like a deep breath of fresh air after holding my breath under water.

I can see people acting out their incessant patterns of insanity, and without judgement, love them and let them go to be free to live their lives as they do. I can understand them only from a deep understanding of myself when I did those things and didn’t know why. I never even thought to ask why, I just did them unconsciously.

I thought I was looking for love when I really I was looking for someone to complete me, someone to fill the void that existed while on my own, someone to hold me up, someone to fix the unhappiness.

To hold onto this awareness and not repeat old patterns, there is one important focus that remains and that is to not get drawn into the dream with others, to stay firmly planted in my reality.

When I watch people search and search for completeness in the arms of another, I am reminded of why that is not the answer for me. When I see those around me looking to fill their spiritual emptiness with someone else, someone who will never be the solution, I say to myself “Thank you God for freeing me off this need to find comfort in a person, the comfort that will only ever be found by remaining close to you.”

Words From A Writer

I’m a writer.
Because I say I am.
Because I believe I am.
Because I write.
Because I have something to say and the best way I know how to say it is to write it.
Not that I’m not good with being verbal, because I am.
But I’m better when I write it down.
I don’t need to be paid for it.
I do it for free.
I do it because I have a passion for it.
Because I love it.
Because I know I’m supposed to.
I write about what I know.
And what do I know better than my own experience?
What could I possibly know better than the story of my life?
What do I know better than what happens all around me?
I write about what needs to be said.
I write the truth.
Harsh at times, loving at times, confusing at times, but always the truth.
Love it, hate it, accept it or deny it.
Just know this, words hold a lot of power, written or spoken, texted or tweeted.
And these words are written just for you.
I see you.
I see your soul.
I see past the mask and the character, the shortcomings and all of your humanness.
I see myself in you, and you in me.
We are the same you and I, just decorated a bit differently on the outside.
I know you.
Maybe better than YOU know you.
And you’re very much okay.
It’s all going to be okay.
I promise.
What a better way to remind you, just in case you forget, than etching these written words in this very place, to be part of history, so when you forget you can re-read them.
You can come back to find these very words.
Right here.
By a writer.

Bad Luck???

I don’t believe there is such a thing as “bad luck”. There was a time when I would use those words to describe the things that happened to me that I didn’t like, or that I labeled as “bad”.

Now I see that everything that goes on in my life is a product of something on my part.

It says in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous that “we invariably find that at some time in the past we have made decisions based on self which later placed us in a position to be hurt.”

I had read this line what felt like a thousand times until one day it clicked in a way it never had before.

I finally realized that though I had no control over other people’s actions, and may not have directly caused an action on someone else’s part, that if I went back far enough I could see a decision based on self that placed me in the position to be hurt. Even if that decision was as simple as seeing the signs but not walking away from harms way.

I saw that the chaos that happened in my outer life was a reflection of what was going on inside, that energetically I drew these events to me. If I had an argument, I had a part, because one person can’t argue. If I was treated poorly by someone in my life more than once, just maybe I allowed it.

Once I made a decision to not tolerate abuse, it just fell away from my life. Once I had hit a bottom with drama, it ended. Once I stopped believing in limitations, they vanished. Once I had enough of the kind of relationships that caused me pain and decided I was done settling with them, they didn’t happen any more.

They just may have been my creation, because deep down I didn’t believe I was worthy of love, so I couldn’t allow people who just wanted to love me, into my heart.

The bad news, if all this is true, is that I have no right to complain about “bad luck” because I am the cause.

The good news is that I don’t have to wait on the luck of the world to swing my way to finally be happy and free, I get to chose.

It’s up to me.

And that’s some really good news.


The truth is that what I miss the most, is the friendship we had.

Like when something great or something terrible happened, you were the first one I wanted to call.

I wanted to share the things I learned with you, because I knew you would always understand exactly what I was saying, like we spoke the same language.

I wanted to teach you the things I was taught.

Most of the time when I couldn’t put the things I wanted to say into words, I didn’t need to, because you always got it, just by the look in my eyes or the unspoken feeling expressed all over my face.

You would look at me and I knew it made sense to you.

I knew you would recognize the significance in the things we shared, that you shared the same passion for truth as I did.

The friendship I valued got overshadowed by worldly desires, complications, distractions and people that wanted to pull us apart.

Fear, selfishness, ambitions, pride and all things of ego destroyed the beauty that was not of this world, until there was nothing left but shreds of something unrecognizable.

And the rest of the story, as the story always goes on, is unwritten.

But my hope is that what is unwritten, is something not of darkness anymore, but that it is of the light.

Because there is always room for hope.



I am constantly reminded by the gentle whispers of truth, heard in the soft breeze brushing by my ears in the midst of presence.

It’s says to me, “Remember child, it’s not about snatching all the love you can out of life, but fulfilment is found in the giving.”

When I forget, as I do regularly, that what I need to make my soul complete is not about seeking anything, it’s about giving all that I have to give, these whispers are there to remind me.

And when I follow the guidance that is provided for me, from a place found deep within, it is like a veil has been lifted and I start to see clearly again.

The direction of my steps change slightly and I find myself back on the path to inner peace.

Only then, I start to feel whole again.

Only then, I am home.


When did I unconsciously decide to start holding back again in an effort to protect my self?

It’s something I did my whole life but when I had my first profound awakening, I finally saw that the problem with having the walls up to keep out the bad, was that it came with a high cost.

It was also keeping out everything good.

I had let finally down all the walls and I allowed absolutely everything in.

As scary as it was, it was the time in my life I felt the most free, it was when I felt the most of everything.

It was like taking a leap off a cliff.

There was so much living in those moments, so many lows but yet so many highs too.

But yet again, as life happened, as it always does, ever so subtly, I starting holding back and closing off again.

I wanted to protect myself.

I chose safety over risks.

But in protecting myself, I had stopped living to the fullest like I had been.

I stopped taking those risks.

Life starting loosing the vibrance in it’s color.

I stopped living completely free in the now and tried to find a balance between acting in the moment, and being discernibly cautious.

Is there a right and a wrong way in all this?

Or are there just choices, with costs and prices to pay for each side?