The Gift of Trauma

Freedom, Peace, and Love.

The 3 gifts I was given nearly 3 years ago. The three most important things of my life, that I will never let anyone change or take from me. No-one or no thing, on earth will ever be more important to me, than the blessings that freedom, peace and love bestow upon me and within me.

Last night I was reminded of that terrifying moment when my whole foundation – that I once stood upon – crumbled beneath me. The horrifying moment when I fell into a black hole of darkness and fell and fell – with no ground to land upon. The moment when I experienced the internal death of who I had been all my life up until that very second. I had fallen into a “Void”. The “void” is where death and creation meet.
Just as fast as I had fallen, I was instantly lifted up in love by none other than “God’s Grace” in full force, all the way upward and into a place where everything looked the same, but my understanding and awareness of it all was completely different than it was before. A rebirth? The resurrection of my own soul? My own ascension? Born again? The rising of the dead at the last Judgement? It was true, I had experience what many call a miracle, or just read about in books.
Until that moment, I never truly understood what the term “Gods Grace” meant, or even really what God’s love felt like. I also thought that “Heaven” was a place we go to in the sky when we physically die.

What I came to know, and it has become the truth I live by, – is that the Kingdom of Heaven is within me. It is a place inside – a state of consciousness – in which we bring “Heaven to Earth” . Some people unfold in their awareness of this slowly, few – like me, receive it all in a the short space of a few moments, often brought on by the experience of a traumatic life threatening event. Its also referred to as a classic “Shamanic Awakening”. Enlightenment in an instant.
Traumatic in itself. My energetic frequency had been raised to where I could “see the unseen”, where I could walk by a person, and hear their thoughts. Where I could see the blocks in their energy, and I would know where their own suffering came from. I was aware of everything about everyone. It was too much knowledge at once. And it had to be integrated by an expert. By another “Shaman”- so to speak.

Death on the inner – manifests as death on the outer, and so began the demise of my outer world. Everything and everyone had vanished. I was in a new reality, with a new state of consciousness and had to adjust .

And so my journey back to God began.



I find calm repose in the energy that bleeds between words.

I want as thin a veil as possible between conversation and feeling, between life and the journey.

Yet I question if I even like conversation at all, preferring to feel what needs to be said in its place.

If I could artfully arrange my living by the experiencing, instead of the tangible matter, what a rich life it would be.


A Season of Wisteria

You are gone.

But once you were there.

Once, back then, you covered me with your blanket of light, tightly wrapping me  in its warmth. Your eyes sparkled with kindness and shone so bright when I was in your presence. Honey gliding off a spoon, was your voice when you spoke, soothing and sweet. Oh so safe you seemed.  The home you made for me was one I snuggled into. 

I thrived, and like the vine of wisteria, I grew wild and free. Beautiful and strong, admired by all who could see. I was so proud, of all I thought you had given me.


Overgrown and uncared for became the vine, choking on itself, no longer could it thrive.  Lets rip it apart,  unbed it from here…do it, unseed it, go forth. Abandoned alone the vine of wisteria became more trouble than it was worth.

The blanket was gone, no light to be found….the mother you once needed to be, no longer cared to come find and take care of me. 





The Tarnish in Forgiveness.

Forgiveness. A word that looks great on paper. A word that when spoken, soothes the heart. However, because we live in a world that is enforced by the nature of duality, I cant help but do what I do best, and that is flip the shiny coin over to the other side and seek the tarnish. The tarnish in the word “forgiveness”. A complacent acceptance of vindictiveness, bitterness and jealousy is what this word screams out to me. It fills me with deep sadness, devastating sensations of loss and cold despair. It reminds me of unrelenting loneliness and ceaseless heartache. It means that I am to come to terms with these emotions so I am not bound by the tarnish…. Revelation: I am entrenched in the tarnish. It appears that residue will always remain, despite my efforts of erasing, of cleaning, of changing the outside appearance, of beginning again. An internal catharsis is the only freedom – like a bird in a gilded cage….trapped within the confines of its own environment, the soul breaks free and disappears into the inner realms. It returns home. Soul exists because God loves it so. Soul is multidimensional. Soul is our freedom. Soul is what you see if you have been blessed with the consciousness to look beyond the tarnish. Soul shines, it glimmers, it is full of hope. It has no past, no future and no limits. It just is.  Soul is Gods spark. And forgiveness is just a word we humans have come up with to satisfy the ego’s perception of discomfort. The contrasting opponent to the perception of bliss.  The ego lives and thrives within the confines of this world of duality.  A paradox in itself. An illusion nonetheless.   Soul just IS. And it IS because HE, who is GOD loves it. And HE loves it because HE created it, and HE created it because it is HE. Soul is GOD. There is nothing to choose in the end, nor to overcome. Strip the flesh and salt the wound – it makes no difference. Shine on!


Your Glass

Push through your glass into the cold dim world

where our lifetime still remains

Eye to eye – silent memories reflect our selfish pain


The pendulum swings far to your side – was it worth it for the gain?

Hesitation on the line with so much to lose

as reputations must be ordained


Hand held out and fingertips placed, sensing through your glass

it cuts too deep and you pull away

the closer time moves toward the past


We hold still, but its not safe, for we both know what you’ll lose.

Through a fear based gaze you seek a peace filled

grace, and you blind your inner truth


We walk on with our parallel lives, both united by the past

I start to run, you keep up with me

watching through your side of the glass


Those dark reflections reveal frozen dreams

and we both know how this ends

You give enough light just to lift my eyes so I can barely see ahead.


I fall down and I rise again and you bind me to your guilt

Don’t pull too hard or I’ll push your glass

and they will all see that this is real


Hands on glass, weakening the cracks as we hold onto your wall

no sliding doors, just fractured lines

that submerge us as we fall


You send the past back, delivered right to my front door

you’ve returned the pieces of me that I wish I didn’t need,

and taken more than you did before.









You used to be the first to know, the sun I looked for in each day.

I have kept your faded smile inside, near the things I want to say.
Swirling dreams made with sparkle dust from ashes off the floor, my life destroyed, and you left too, when my spirit was most poor.
You  wonder about me from time to time, your thoughts I still can hear.  Its ok, I will be fine, I no longer need you near.
Yet, when it was cold and I journeyed through the dark night of my soul,
my light arrived, your words were heard…
i wonder if you know…
… How very hard it has been for me, to have to let you go.

Burning you

Bewitchingly, she tiptoes barefoot across her overgrown backyard, feeling the wet mushy grass between her toes. Memories of his violent suicide were haunting her heart. With both hands she precisely empties the gasoline can around the edges of the building he spent months painstakingly building. With a wicked smile cast upon her tear stricken face, her eyes glimmering – right there in the silent still of the warm balmy night….she strikes the match …

………and the love and light of her life is set ABLAZE before her grieving eyes. “He is gone” she whispers.


Broken Open.

It is ceaseless. 

And it is true what they say, there are always triggers.

I am reminded of your birthday in a few days.

And so comes forth the uncohesive paradox of the contrived world of grief that you have forever bound me to.

I have no choice in this. You made certain of that.

Terror is three letters that spell GUN!! Terror is embedded in my mind and it lives there daily. I am learning ways around it. Terror is the sound of gunfire I hear on my children’s video games that unknowingly paralyzes my core with fear. Terror is in the date of your birthday, and the date that you brutally murdered yourself on, when you also planned on murdering me.

A date that for every year it arrives I will close my eyes, despite the acrimony of it all, and silently whisper my thanks to God that you couldn’t find me.

I imagine I will do that for the rest of my life. 

I am alive.

Every evening at dusk, and at the break of dawn, – the period when the veil between worlds is at its thinnest, through the frequency I can see you, I can feel you. With all the power of conviction vested in me, I know that one day I will no longer succumb to the indulgence of this experience.

Your selfish suicide left me with a gift,  that was the catharsis of my life as I knew it to be. And a heart that was completely broken open.

That right there is the blessing.