The heated battle

I am currently in a heated argument with the Universe. I am being sent omen after omen telling me to trust who I am and my vision for the future. However, trusting that hasn’t paid my bills in the past, although I’ve never wanted for anything and my heart has been happy, my husband has made many sacrifices for me to do that. We can’t afford me to say the words the Universe wants to hear.

How can I trust that what is in my heart is right? How can I let go of the need to pay rent, put food on the table, have internet service, and maintain my lifestyle. I don’t own a lot of stuff (except weird hats and odd eclectic clothes), but I like what I have including the less than stellar accommodations’ location.

I hear the Universe pulsing in my veins like a driving song that makes the foot drop on the accelerator just a little too hard. I feel my heart get excited and feel “right” when I hear, “Thank you, Mare. I always feel better when I talk to you.” I take deepest joy and satisfaction in just hugging people until their pieces are glued enough for their hearts to feel better. I adore sharing laughter, good and bad jokes which makes me feel richer than any pocketbook could hold.

But the Universe begs me to hear. It is constantly prodding me. I hear it whisper over and over, “You don’t belong there. You’re too big for that room. You’re meant for greater things. You need to be out in the world. Go put on your cape and trust me.”

But my practical side says, “I can sacrifice my physical comfort for a paycheck so my husband doesn’t have to worry any more. I can give up a bit of time so that we can get back on our feet as the trail of my medical bills have left us a bit underground.”

“Heed me.” Begs the voice. “You’re missing every first event around because I put them on the weekends you “need” to work. I’m making sure you’re understanding what’s wrong with this picture. Are you getting my message?”

“No. I mean yes. I mean…I know, I get it, but I have things I really want to do and that takes…”

“Yes, but you’re not trusting me. You’re not hearing my words to you. You know, in your spirit, I’m speaking your truth but you doubt me. I’ve never let you down.”

“I’m going to do this. Right now. I’m setting my alarm so I can go back to my job tomorrow and earn my paycheck to ease my family’s burdens.”

“And I’m going to keep dropping boulders on you until you pay attention. This is not your destiny. Go do as I asked you to do.”

“Maybe after pay day. Right now, I’m saving up to pay off some medical bills, some personal loans, and looking for a safer place to live.”

If the Universe were a human, it would be rolling its eyes at me, wondering how obtuse of a human it created could actually be. “Omens, my dear one. Look for the omens that are right in front of your face. I don’t know how much more obvious I can make them. You don’t have to worry, just trust me.”

“Oh, I trust you,” as I push the buttons on my phone setting my alarm for 5:16AM. “I just don’t believe my bills will get paid and I’m not sure you understand how important that is to sentient beings like me.”

Another eyeroll. “When are you going to get it? Really? You’re not a sentient being. You’re a spirit in a meat suit. Your spirit is your destiny. Meet it. Be it. Belong to the realm of the Spirit Walkers.”

“You’re crazy!”

“You’re not crazy enough.”

Spirit Tribe, I call you

Artist: Jenica "Hen" Fredrickson A member of my Spirit Tribe heeded my call.

Artist: Jenica “Hen” Fredrickson
A member of my Spirit Tribe heeded my call.

Spirit Tribe, I call to you with the words of a starving human
I am greedy for your attention to my withering roots
Water me with your colors spilling freely
Reach out with your own inspiration
That is begging release from drought.
Wrap yourself in a wet paper towel
That offers just enough moisture for you
To find me clinging to the smallest sprinkle
Of disconnection from your creativity
From that bond that unites the visionaries
Because of our hidden tendencies to obscure
Our innermost desires to run naked
Through the streets covered in kaleidoscopes
Spirit Tribe, I beckon you forth from your dream-world
I am but a pool reduced to a drop, withering
Spring forth with your overflow to spread unhindered
Release your inhibitions so that you may find what you seek
Let me spill my ideas, beliefs, fanaticism on you
Like hot coffee or iced tea that brings deepest refreshment
Put on your brightest clothing without fear
That builds up your unique version of yourself
Into full fruition. Seek and you will find me
Waiting for the touch of your brush on the canvas
Believing in your mastery of your own vision
Twirling like a dervish to the music we’ll create
With words and paints and sounds unheard and unheeded
Disregarded by those who can’t see the world as we do
Dismissed by the gardeners as weeds to be pulled
From a society that at its best is ugly with stained beliefs
But at its best is a tribute to resilience, tolerance, and power.
Spirit Tribe, I beat my drum to hail your arrival
My confetti sits untouched in a bucket by my door
Waiting to shower you with praises for your bravery
Longing for your belief in yourself to find its way to me
Believing that every feeling you can create into tangibility
Is a gift that’s been wrapped for too long as an unsent package
Knowing that I will gladly accept you as my own
Because we already understand the ways of things
We already “get” the planes, shapes, patterns, styles
And we can’t help but feel lost because there are no ties
That bind us to the material plane when we are free to be
Who we are with abandoned shadows stepping into the light
Open your floodgates, remove the starvation for your beauty
Evaporate my longing for our bonding in the name of art
Come, my Spirit Tribe. Heed my call and come.

What you give up

It is far too easy to look towards one’s reflection
To pick apart the beauty; to give in to dereliction
The voices shriek in anger, “How dare you hold your dream!?”
While all along they’re hearing the same bitter peppered screams.
Up in Grandma’s attic filled with cobwebs and dust
Generations scorching them with, “You must, you must, you must.”
There is a wisdom holy that I must pass to you and give
There is truly only one life you have, one life for you to live.
When your eyes drop down with despair, the tears they freely flow
Remember in your heart and soul that you already know
That love is the only answer, that giving is its boon
Gyrate your hips to the music you hear, spiral the cycling moon.
Lift your maudlin mourning eyes for love isn’t found beneath
Don’t believe that you’re not worthy, heed not whispers from deceit.
There is no certain way to be, no cookie cutter being
Remove the power of the “You can’ts.” Remove the acidic peeling.
You are truly valuable, turn loose those inner fears
They’ve been inherited by people who wasted all their years.
Open up your heart to love with the jagged and glued pieces
Take in the deepest breath of peace know you’re perfect and release it.
Because NOBODY can ever know you, exactly as you are
with all your lumpy bumpy bits, your tatters, and your scars
Those are the imperfections that make you perfectly you
You are worthy, you are beautiful, I swear that this is true.