Beloved, I miss you.

I know you’re everywhere.

But it’s out there…

in vast oceans lapping your shores

in soaring mountains laden with your sharp breath

in dry deserts teaming with your wordless life

in secret coves and hidden lakes where your beauty abounds

in rain forests enveloping your musky sweat

in seaside cliffs where your seals and whales play below

in forests of tall trees where your bears chase me

in silent sunsets that slowly explode of your essence

in quiet stars and solitary moon that sing of you

…where I feel you the most.

Moon over the Bay of Fundy in New Brunswick, Canada

Two dreams ten years apart

The other night I had an unforgettable dream that rocked me out of my sleep:

I was traveling and it looked like I was in New Orleans or a place very similar. I was hungry and I went into a restaurant/pub, it was packed so folks were sharing tables. I ended up at a table with two women. We hit it off pretty well, small talked about the place, the food normally being better but figured since it was so packed the cooks were harried, etc. etc.

All the while we were talking, I kept feeling some kind of haunting familiarity with one of the ladies. I just knew there was some kind of connection with her, tantalizingly deep, but I couldn’t pin it down.

She *knew* though. And she knew exactly what to say. She looked into my eyes and said something about “helicopters flying around town” and POW!

I was hit with a tremendous surge of an old dream from ten years ago, flashing back to when I was in a helicopter with her, this very same lady.

She was my friend’s fiancé and was in a bad accident; her face was badly cut and we were on the way to the hospital. I don’t remember why, but her fiancé either wasn’t there or couldn’t make it so I accompanied her to the hospital so that she wouldn’t be alone.

The dream-memory jumped ahead to where I was visiting her in the hospital. Apparently her fiancé had wigged out on her because of the big scar on her face. Not wanting her to be alone, I hung around to lend moral and emotional support.

(I distinctly remember there was an underlying mutual attraction between us from the beginning when her fiancé first introduced us. It was a quiet, instantaneous bond.)

She was terrified because she had decided to undergo surgery to take care of her scar, she was still in pain from the accident and felt so alone with her fiancé bailing out on her.

As she was being taken to the operating room, she freaked out and changed her mind, deciding against the surgery. I calmly stayed by her side and the dream-memory ended.

Flashback over, I was back in the restaurant, staring at her, mouth agape.

*Now* I knew why she felt so intimately familiar! It was *her*, the one whom I felt some kind of bond with and stayed at her side in the hospital.

She must have had the surgery done some time after the initial dream-memory — I saw a faint outline of the scar on her face yet she was the same beautiful soul I felt such a deep kinship with.

I shouted with joy, “Oh my God, it’s YOU!” and leaped over to give her a hug. We held each other for a long time, a decade rapidly fading away.

As I started to wake up from such a powerful jolt of recognition, the dream sped forward and I saw how we ended up as we were meant to be, kindred souls, kindred lovers, melting into each other’s hearts as the future unfurled.

I woke up that day with my heart singing all day.

What a heck of a dream! It’s amazing a dream connected to another dream I had over ten years ago and it continued from it, like an epilogue in the same book.

Parallel universes, anyone?

Facing an angry El Morro

View of El Morro from my campsite

On my wanderings through New Mexico, I was thrilled to find free campsites (with water and bathrooms too!) could be had at the El Morro National Monument.

Even better, straight from camp you could hike up to the top of El Morro and view what was left of ancient Native American pueblos left by the Puebloans in the late 1200s.

El Morro is also known for its “Inscription Wall” (fancy wording for graffiti, in other words) where you can read over 2,000 signatures and notations carved into the wall, some over several thousand years old.

Very few of the “inscriptions” were art from ancient Puebloans, the rest of them were the common kind we still see today in the form of so and so was here with a name and date scratched out.

As soon as I settled in at camp, I made a beeline over to El Morro for a hike to the top. On the way, I stopped at the Inscription Wall to view some of the autographs scratched in.

You can definitely feel a sense of history there — it was mind boggling to stand in the very spot a fellow human from several thousand years ago stood to carve his immortality onto a rock wall.

As I walked along the wall, I started feeling bad inside, like a negative pressure that was making me queasy and weak.

Halfway through, I had to back out and leave.

As I made my way back to camp, the pressure eased and I felt a bit better. I still felt something within that didn’t sit right with me. Usually I can figure it out but not this time. It felt intangible and from an outside source.

I had this strong sensation to meditate to get answers. I sat under a tree facing El Morro, deepened my breathing and closed my eyes.

I found myself enveloped in anger.

Giant, overwhelming anger.

Bewildered, I dug into it and abruptly found myself face to face with the energy of El Morro itself.

As a natural intuitive and empath, I’m not surprised when I come across all sorts of energies and dead people, but I’ve never faced the energy of a… well, huge rock.

I’ve always thought huge rocks, canyons, etc. were ancient and passive giants, but not this one.

(El Morro itself is not that old compared to its brothers and sisters across the continent, so its energy did not feel ancient — it felt young and brash like a Greek God.)

After being startled by the source of the anger, I took a moment to collect my own wits. My first thought was can I really talk with a rock? It seemed absurd.

I swallowed my pride and reached out, asking where all the anger was coming from.

(Intuitive messages come through primarily via feelings, visions, and empathy which I “transliterate” into our language.)

El Morro silently roared back that his space has always been sacred and he’d been desecrated over thousands of years with scars on his surface. And “you humans” had the audacity to turn his defacings into a National Monument honoring them!

I was baffled this huge rock had an issue with little scratches on his surface. Aren’t they impervious to this sort of seemingly minor thing?

El Morro played on my empathy and showed how I’d feel if strangers carved their initials into my skin over the course of my life.

Point made.

I offered my deepest apologies.

His energy calmed down and I felt pressure of his anger recede a bit.

And that was it, we were done.

I strolled back over to El Morro and although I could still feel an imperceptible anger, I no longer felt nauseous and was able to explore further.

Later that night, I had an incredibly beautiful lucid dream with El Morro unlike any I’ve had. That’s another story for another day.

Today as I think back to it all, it still feels implausible and crazy.

Maybe I am off my rock-er (lame pun intended). All I know is nothing is truly out of the ordinary when it comes to the Beyond.

Who knew rocks had feelings, too?

How do you stop loving?

I can’t.

All my life and all these loves I’ve had, I can’t stop loving them.

Maybe I just don’t have an “off” switch when it comes to love.

I used to think I couldn’t let go.

But for me love is forever.

It doesn’t always work out. Change is constant, especially in people and relationships.

But love? The flavor of it may change yet it remains.

Flowers of a different color.

My high school loves? I love them even as memories fade; smiles and warmth still come.

My once wife? I love her even as we are unfortunately estranged. I’m forever grateful for wonderful memories and miraculous creation of a loving daughter.

My old flames? One tore my heart wide open, others widened it further, bringing forth more love of all different flowers.

The more I’ve loved, the more I’ve found there is to give.

Once I tried to stop loving to move on.

Instead I dried up, veins empty and heart barren.

Like blood, love gives life.

I can’t ever stop loving and I made peace with that.

Sunflowers. Roses. Daisies. Orchids. Chrysanthemums. Weeds.

I love ‘em all.

Field of love

Sometimes I think of us

I think of us
walking down a trail
holding hands

You in your
light summer dress,
breeze flowing
through your hair.

I in my element
feeling barefoot earth,
green all around
making me glow.

Warm smiles
serene peace
joyous eyes
hearts afire

Sun’s rays behind us
We turn to each other
Look deeply into eyes
Our tender lips meet
and we melt together.

View of Snake River, Oregon

Snake River in Oregon. A deer crossed here moments before. My campsite was right on the river just around the bend for an incredible camping experience with incredible views. I’d take a swim in the afternoons to cool off, very cold but invigorating.

White light of Kundalini dream

Greys Peak in Nevada

I left one of the most beautiful, surreal, and serene campsites I’ve ever been in — it was very private up a mountain, had several brooks and a creek meandering through the middle of it and had a plethora of life — butterflies, birds (hummingbirds too!), chipmunks, deer, etc. It was a perfect respite from hot days down in the valley,

I would often sit in the middle of a little wooden footbridge crossing the creek, soaking my feet in the cold, clear water and feeling the air cool as it rose through me. Natural air conditioning can’t be beat!

I was flabbergasted that such a place existed on a dry mountain in a desert valley.

It was a very sacred healing place and I stayed nearly a week in paradise until I felt the urge once again to wander onwards. It was hard to leave. I even had tears rolling down my cheeks — I was that attached to the place. But still, it was time to move forward and I bid a fond farewell, knowing it would be never forgotten, always in my heart.

I ended up stopping at Angel Creek & Lake in northeast Nevada on a mountain called Greys Peak, another stunning beauty and paradise of a different sort higher up.

That night I had a profound dream of walking in a meadow where I turned into a powerful beam of white light surging into the heavens. The light flowing through me was so strong, the thrumming so intense I put my hand around my throat to keep it from falling apart.

The dream abruptly stopped.

Later in the morning I woke up feeling exhausted, woozy, and off balance. I wasn’t sure if it was the dreaded dizzies again and I felt nauseous and so worn out. I was also wondering if it was the altitude but it wasn’t as high as other places I’d stay at without any issues.

Maybe I was coming down with something.

I left camp to lower elevations to see if it made a difference. It didn’t and by the time I arrived at Twin Falls in Idaho, I was thoroughly wiped out and I still felt woozy, which really concerned me since it’s unusual for me to feel this way for an extended period of time, even a nap didn’t help. I ended up going to bed early.

When I woke up, I felt slightly better but still heavy in the head and off balance. I knew I needed to meditate, that sensation was strong, a calling, an urging. I could feel a thrumming through me…

As soon as I slipped into meditation and just let go, allowing myself to sink into the thrumming, like an information download, everything flew into place — the reason I felt so sick, tired, exhausted and tippy was because that dream of light was another Kundalini rising experience and when I put my hand to my throat, causing the dream to stop, I aborted the process.

As I’d learned in previous research from prior Kundalini experiences, prematurely stopping a Kundalini process can be messy to one’s body, wreaking havoc with energy stuck and fissuring about trying to find release.

So I further released into the energy and opened the way to Kundalini to finish what it started the other night. Massive flows of light and energy started flowing up my spine and through my throat out of my head. As before, it was an intense and a bit of a painful process, much like throwing up spiritually.

I started feeling relief and while the releasing continued, I re-experienced the dream, seeing and feeling white light coursing through me and exploding into all shades of greens, purples, and blues as it flowed out of me.

I also had flashbacks to two things I saw the day before that were significant messages trying to explain what I needed to finish but didn’t realize at the time. On my way up the mountain to camp at Angel Creek, I came across a dead snake on the road. Snakes represent Kundalini…. That was one sign…

That morning after I woke up from the dream, I took a walk around camp to try and feel better and I came across another snake right in front of my path… and it would not move. I thought it was dead, but it wasn’t. It’s very unusual for a snake not to move out of the way…. Yet another very strong message I needed to finish the Kundalini process.

Looking back on all this, I was surprised I didn’t put it all together after the dream and seeing snakes twice, but I was so out of it and clueless.

Finally, after an hour of finishing up the Kundalini flowing and releasing, I felt much better and a different kind of exhausted – the kind that happens after Kundalini releases and eventually I recovered through the day and returned to normal with a little good kind of tiredness similar to from a hard exercise.

I’m so glad I honored my instinct in the morning when I woke up to go into meditation earlier than usual… it saved my ass. The trapped Kundalini was like trapped snake poison.

All this was also a reminder that we are very much spiritual beings with a human body, not the other way around. I also believe that beautiful campsite I mentioned at the beginning was a trigger, eventually releasing Kundalini at the right time and the right place — at Angel lake/creek of all places.

More magic on Campobello Island

More magic Campobello Island in New Brunswick, Canada (I originally placed it in Nova Scotia, my mistake). You can camp on the island and walk over to the coastal side to these kind of views. It’s a very magical place.

Relics of a past on Campobello Island

This was one of the first things I saw after entering Campobello Island in New Brunswick, Canada. Most of the village is like this with worn-color homes of a quaint seaside nature. Beautiful place to visit.

Baby steps into the water

I finally found the courage today to launch my kayak into a nearby lake. It’s been several months since I last kayaked.

I wasn’t at full strength and I was nervous, especially untying and unloading the kayak which requires quite a bit of yanking and lifting and grunting.

The thing about dealing with Mr. Lyme is our internal battery runs out a lot faster than we’re used to. So every out-of-the-ordinary exertion adds up quickly. Out-of-the-ordinary as in stuff not normally done in the usual day to day routine.

Like kayaking.

That’s why I was nervous — by the time I got the kayak situated into the water, I felt my energy going down.

Rather than freak out (as in the past because I was so scared of major setbacks to my recovery) I calmly got into the kayak, pushed off (ugh, another burst, more draining) and floated onwards.

Oh, it was so wonderful being able to feel nature again.

The gentle lap of the lake nudging the kayak.

The cool breeze caressing my face.

Trees and seagrass swaying to an invisible tune.

Sun shafting through leaves and branches.

Ospreys snatching prey out of the lake.

And of course, alligators lurking about.

That’s my kind of heaven.

I didn’t stay out too long — baby steps. Over time I’ll be able to do more and more.

More bliss.

By the time I got back and loaded the kayak up on top of the car (more grunts and ughs and battery drains), I was a bit tired but it was a good kind of tired.

Water always seems to rejuvenate me. I was born near the ocean and have always felt a lure to be near water in any form.

You could say water is the lungs of my soul. I breathe more deeply and freely around it.

I sure do miss it.

Baby steps.