Know Your (The) Truth

Last week, after yet ANOTHER “we need to get healthy” talk with my husband, I fed my family fish and vegetables for dinner. It was delicious, and the kids gobbled it up. They ate that broccoli, zucchini, and couple of green beans with smiles, and even complained: “I only got one green bean.” I was a proud momma. My husband turned to me and said (something along the lines of): “See, the kids are eating like that because they crave more vegetables.”

Darkness and guilt filled my heart – I don’t give my kids enough vegetables and they crave them! The fiber, vitamins and minerals that they are missing out on, the horror! And then before I took myself over the edge, looking up food menu’s and recipes of foods I don’t like to eat because they have veggies, I tapped into my (the) truth.

The truth is that the kids gobbled up the veggies because I cooked them deliciously scrumptious in olive oil, salt, and butter, serving them just a little crisp, right before they turned mushy. And the truth is that my kids eat a lot of fruit, and vegetables. I feed them fruit with breakfast, as a snack, and with their lunches. I make salads, puree whole vegetables into their soups, dice them up into enchiladas and tacos. I serve them up whole and raw, and lightly cooked and all ways you can think of. I also have olive oil, pecans, and avocados in my pantry for healthy fats. Something else? I buy organic meats, and avoid GMO’s.

So why was I worried about “getting healthy” and why was I feeling guilty? Because I had lost sight of the truth. I let the fear I see on social media, through my husband, and on the news get to me. I took in all the statistics about kids who don’t exercise and who are overweight to heart – forgetting the whole time, that I am already part of the solution. I already feed my kids well and make them play outside. Im changing my language. My husband and I are no longer “getting healthy” we are now “becoming even more healthy.” The truth is that I already do a lot of things right, and you probably do too. Let’s celebrate that.

Men Are Capable Beings


A cross purpose, is when you say one thing, and do or believe another. Its your very own personalized manner of getting in your own way. Cross purposes can be eating cheeseburgers while trying to lose weight or refusing to use alarms when you are always late. Im guilty of many cross purposes like buying organizational tools and then losing them or leaving them in the car. I make up jogging routes so that I can lose weight, and then I don’t jog. I have made budgets only to break them, and I yell at my kids while telling them to be respectful of each other.

Its easy to see cross purposes in other people too, like when scrolling through Facebook and reading about how people want to “keep drama away.” That’s always funny to me, if you want to keep drama away, then stop entertaining, creating, and talking about drama. Its as bad as calling someone to tell them you’re never going to call them again. The best thing about cross purposes, is recognizing and clearing them. Here is the one cross purpose I have to clear around today: Men are capable beings.

I believe this. Men, like women, are human beings capable of love, respect, building intuition, caring for children, working hard, and figuring stuff out. Men are good friends, parents, siblings and children. Men are a worthy part of society, fun to hang out with, good looking, and beings of light. Deep inside my heart I believe this, but I have been (unknowingly – until recently) teaching everyone around me otherwise, simply by being part of a society that expects men to be stupid, uncaring, unemotional, and barbaric.

I laugh at the “dumb man” portrayed on TV, social media, and other advertisements, sometimes going as far as to remember similar things men in my life have done. I roll my eyes with other moms at “dad stuff” like playing rough, or throwing kids in the air, we shrug our shoulders as if to say “men will be men” or “at least they are around.” We also tend to get surprised when after a divorce the dad sticks around, in a full fledged manner. We get surprised when after parents break up a man stays a part of their childs’ life as much as the mom does. Why is that surprising? Its sad. As a society, after a break up, we only really expect men to be around some weekends and some afternoons. Lets change our expectations.

Let’s also stop “guys do that,” or even “some guys do that.” Men make up roughly half the population, so chances are that “some guys do that” is true, but only because there is so many of them!

Have you ever feel tenderness while looking at pictures of dads combing their little girls’ hair because “that’s so beautiful!” And it is, but its also, um, normal? I mean, if you have a kid, and the kid has hair, and you’re a parent, then brush their hair, right? But we, as society, with our stupid inability to create normalcy in good parenting situations swoon over men who do little girl hair. Its cute and all, but, have you seen MY hair? I thinks its pretty friggin swell that I can comb somebody else’s hair too! Swoon dangit!

I am ready to clear all of the beliefs that keep the men around me from being anything other than sane, beautiful beings, full of love. Sure, guys can still be guys, but lets not let that mean that they have to be or do stupid things.

Ignoring Great Advice

ignore great adviceA couple of weeks ago, while browsing mommy blogs on Pinterest, I found a theme in their writing: “In order for your house to always be clean, make sure to always finish what you started.”  was the general theme for the day. “If you only do half the dishes, then you’ll end up doing the dishes twice.” Was one of the many examples given to illustrate the point. That got under my skin. THAT’s ME!!! Im always doing dishes! Three, four times a day. Sometimes more. I was in heaven thinking about how I was only going to do dishes once, and then be done. The advice made sense. I incorporated the advice.

And the dishes got out of control. You see, instead of waking up and seeing a few dishes in my sink, and washing them – I left them. Why waste time washing a few cups, if I’m going to be packing lunches and making breakfast in a few minutes, and dirtying more dishes? Did I foreshadow adequately? Can you now picture me with a mountain of dishes that I now have to tackle – In one sitting – because that’s what the awesome advice said??? And not stopping in the middle either, because shoot – If I stop, then I’m just doing dishes twice, right?

That advice didn’t work for me. There is no mommy blog out there that is going to make washing dishes for five people without a dishwasher more pleasant. You just have to suck it up, or live in “happy service”, or buy a dishwasher, or make someone else do it. Sometimes great advice is just not so great – for you.

  1. Does the advice work for you?
    1. We are all made differently, so our solutions are different too. What works for your sister, does not necessarily work for you.
  2. Does the person you are getting advice from, live the life you want to live?
    1. Are you getting marriage advice from a person who has been divorced three times because obviously a person who has failed so many times knows what mistakes not to make?
    2. Remember, you are looking for advice on what to do. If you want to know what NOT to do – listen to your gut, if it churns in agony DONT DO IT.
  3. Is the person in a similar situation as you?
    1. Maybe I was being silly and getting dish washing advice from someone with a dishwasher?
  4. Is the advice outdated?
    1. Some things, never grow old. Other things do.
  5. Are you following the advice because its from your mom? Or your aunt who is always there? Or your best friend who knows you best?
    1. Mom is always right, just ask any of MY kids. But still, just because mom gives you advice, doesn’t mean its right for you, or you have to follow it. Sometimes all you need from mom are love and well wishes, NOT ADVICE.

Excuse me while I go wash dishes 😉


Spiritual Boost for HOT Days

Spiritual WorkMy island is in the middle of a heat wave, and its gonna get HOT here.  Everyone around me will be scorching. Perfect weather for spiritual cleansing work.

In the summer of 2015, I began a course on Unlimited Abundance, which I purchased through Mind Valley and is led by Christie Marie Sheldon. The program teaches you how to find limiting beliefs in your reality, so that you may transform them into something that is beneficial for you and those around you. A example of a limiting belief can be thinking that you have to work hard in order to get what you want. Well, its true, you can get where you want with hard work, but you can also get there with soft work, fun work, baby steps, and even cartwheels. Hard work is un-flexable, impenetrable, arduous, strenuous, exhausting, grueling, heavy, and a choice.

Something else the UA program teaches is tools. One tool is building a spiritual bonfire. This bonfire is meant for you to throw all the spiritual gunk you carry around into. Here is how you make one: You close your eyes, connect to the light by imagining yourself going 300 feet up in the air, and then you imagine a great big fire in front of you. This fire is a fire of love, and it is meant to burn away all of your pain, fear, sadness, or any other heaviness that lives in your body. I have been clearing lots of anger lately, and it feels good to have it burn away. You can throw people who are mean to you into the fire, and picture all the meanness and spite melting away. This fire is a special fire of truth, so only things that are not true can melt away. For example, if you throw yourself into the bonfire, the only things that will melt away are your fears, worries, insecurities, and stresses. Your beauty, your light, your inner shine stay behind and are even easier to see because all the other gunk is gone.

That’s my spiritual boost for you on a hot day. Embrace the heat, know that it is burning away all your fears and worries, and problems. Melt all the gunk away!

Thank you God for the beautiful weather.

Ride The Energy Wave

Ride the Energy WaveBefore I started to re-enact the crazy in my mother, I used to be my own person. One of my super powers was the ability to be around high energy, chaotic, dramatic, hormonal, often drug and alcohol raged people, while still being able to maintain my own energy field. I was teaching high school english to high schoolers who were “at promise.” Basically I was teaching “bad kids.” You know these bad kids, they drop out of school, get thrown in jail, have babies, and fall behind on their high school graduation track for some reason or another. Life can be very difficult for a 16 year old with a baby, a job, a dream, and the inability to add (and for the 14 year old “normal” kid who somehow ended up at this school and is basically in shock).

My biggest hurdle was teaching “drug class” a class full of teenage potheads who had no intention of letting cannabis go. One day after class was done, my mentor came into the classroom to ask me how I was doing. I was honest with him: I can’t teach this class anymore, being around a bunch of high people makes me feel high too. He looked at me funny. “You mean its annoying to be around students who are high and you feel like they should maybe not be allowed in the classroom, right?” No. That’s not what I meant at all. What I meant was that I was picking up on the energy that was being put into my classroom. The hyper kids gave me energy, the depressed kids sucked my energy, and the kids who were on drugs gave me a contact high. I was taking in their energy.

I blame part of energy transfer on the way the building was set up. It had no real windows, poor lighting, and inadequate ventilation. But thats’s a different story. My all knowledgable mentor then took me to his classroom. He showed me the gray walls, the bright colors, and the sage. He then taught me: have something that neutralizes them, have something that clears them, and have something that mirrors you. It was beautiful, but it was not enough. I just stared at him. Someone who has sage in their classroom ON PURPOSE, surely knows more. He did. That’s when he taught me to ride the energy wave.

Riding the energy wave goes something like this: before you enter any building, take it in. Its a good habit for all Californians have to have since it is necessary for us to be able to duck and cover and any given time, but this take it in is a little different. Take in the energy of the building and what is going on inside it. Then, grab your surf board, and go in. Your surf board is your protection, keep it close. In the mornings, paddle on by, and hang out in the low tide, paddling slowly, waving and smiling as you walk to your classroom. By mid morning, when students begin to show up, take on some high waves, its starting to get fun. After lunch, after students get fed frozen, deep fried carbs in packages, get ready, thats when most big waves come, hang on to your board and ride the wave. WEEEEEEEEEEEEE Enjoy it – its a magical surf board that you are riding and you can’t fall off. WEEEEEEEEEEEEE ride that wave all the way until the babes are about to go home. Then paddle on out of there again.

He was absolutely right. And it works with using a skateboard, bike, or off road vehicle instead. The basic of it is not to take in the energy of others, protect yourself and work around it. The energy of others’ is real, and you can use it to push yourself forward, tap into happiness, or any other positive thing that is available – but you don’t have to take it in as your own.

Drug class was chill after that. Riding the energy of the little stoners became more of a game, seeing if I could direct them towards SOME sense. And I stopped getting a contact high from them. Sometimes (lol).





Monday Morning Trick

Monday Morning TrickHappy Thursday!

Monday Mornings are tough for me in the most First World Problems sense of “tough.” Usually it has to do with a weekend full of walking by toys without picking them up, not constantly wiping counters, and heating and eating leftovers without a microwave. I unwind on the weekends and my house shows it. I like to blame the children, but I know that its my shoes, my unfinished craft projects, my stack of cut magazines, and my scraps of yarn and fabric that make up a large part of the mess.

So, here’s what I do to remedy the overwhelmed with stuff situation. I grab a trash bag and fill it for donations.  HAHA roommates – bet you didn’t know about that one. I walk around the house, and add that shirt that doesn’t really fit that’s on the floor, that doll with messy hair who’s leg comes off, random silverware that doesn’t fit our sets, duplicate stuff, and anything else that I never want to clean up again. Basically, if its making a mess in my house, its gone. Sometimes I rummage through closets and drawers to make sure the bag is filled all the way to the top. I take the bag and put it in the garage, wait for a week to see if anything “important” was “accidentally” put in there, and donate it soon after.

This method works well on any day of the week.



The Wonder of Time

In my endless journey toward self improvement, I have found that the one factor that holds me back the most is having an ample amount of time. My current agony is that I haven’t found the time to write… in the past 10 years… I have plenty of free writes, journal entries, letters, and notes to show where my love of the written word has manifested. But I don’t have a book, or a blog, I don’t even have consistent Facebook posts. It hurts the San Diego State English Major in me, that the short, powerful, and informative  blog posts, that are totally worth reading, have gone unwritten. I decided to remedy this situation by vowing to spend at least 10 hours a week on my professional writing.

That was a tangible reality for about 15 minutes (I think) because I quickly found out that I have lost the concept of time. I don’t know what 5, 10 or 15 minutes are anymore. How long does it really take me to brush my teeth? If you would ask me, I would tell you: “It takes me 2 minutes to brush my teeth, 30 seconds for each quadrant.” The reality is however, that I spend a whole lot of time brushing my teeth (I think). I also spend a lot of time trying to get my brain to slow down (I think).  The problem is that everything that I used to use, to keep me paying attention to time (bells, schedules, tv programming), is gone.I used to just go with the flow, and now that Im supposed to set the pace for flow, I am at a complete lost. Im like Arizona, in my own time zone.

So this week, I am giving myself a more attainable task, the task of seeing how much time I really spend doing “stuff.” Id love to say that I’m going to keep a detailed journal and then make some graphs, but the truth is that I’ll probably just be setting a timer.

My Mexican Novela #2

“I delete, de-story, and uncreate stupid people. I delete, de-story and uncreate stupid people. I delete, de-story, and uncreate stupid people.”

Isabel laid in the mid afternoon Hermosa Beach sun, sure it was late November, but no matter, El Niño or not, the beach was still warm, and this tan was not going to upkeep itself. As she chanted the seemingly healing mantra in her head, flashes of inept but beautiful, organic baristas, overpaid lawyers with zero common sense, and other over qualified faces popped in and out of her aura. Try as Isabel might, to purge all this stupid people from her reality, she could not get his voice and his cutting words out of her head. His voice haunted her legs up the wall, downward dogs, and Reiki Meditations: “Wow, I’d never seem a picture of you FAT before! How old were you, 12?”

Fifteen, she had been fifteen years old. And she had not been fat, but she deleted that memory from her reality too. She remembered that summer with ease, the summer where she could not wear her bikini, the summer where she was forced to live abroad. She had came back to school that year, talking about how exotic her extended vacation in Mexico had been. She described peacocks at a ranch, live-in cleaning ladies, private apartments overlooking the beach, security guards, drivers, and being able to walk around town, recognized and therefore treated with upmost love and respect. Even at that young age, she learned to turn a blind eye to the other side of reality. It hadn’t been so bad in the late 80’s, sure it was violent and scary, but compared to staying home all summer, hiding from people you might know, it was paradise – and that’s how she chose to describe it.

She angered at her husband who just did not understand. He didn’t even know how mean and cruel he had been. She thought she had gotten rid of ALL THE PICTURES, how had that fat picture come back into her reality? The answer was simple, her sister. How, such a person, unembarrassed by her reality could exist, was beyond her. But no, her sister knew better, she had to. She must have done it on purpose. Why had she sent that picture? Maybe her sister was too young to remember the starvation diets filled with chicken soup, skim milk, and syringes. Maybe her sister didn’t know about the potassium pills that made you pee like crazy, and the hunger, the constant hunger. Now that she ate a strictly vegan organic diet filled with correct food combinations, she did not have to worry about layers of fat – and hamburgers. Back then, it had been torture. She took enchiladas and beans out of her mind, “they’re nasty” she reminded herself, Carne Asada Fries, “gag.” In fact, she shunned most poor people comfort food. Deep fried carbs she called it, and trash. Shrimp were trash. Deep friend shrimp specifically, were trash, bottom feeders, like her sister dammed sister.

Isabel had convinced herself. Her sister knew, and she had done it on purpose. She comforted herself into her new reality, her sister, was not her partner who loved her, she was evil and wanted to fat shame her. She changed her mantra: “I delete, de-story and uncreate fat pictures. I delete, de-story and uncreate fat pictures.” She imagined all the pictures burning in a huge proverbial bonfire, one similar to the one that had used to burn the coma out of her husband, and she became calm and content. She was in charge of her life, and noone could do anything to hurt it. No one.


My Mexican Novela Entry #1

As Isabel laid in the warm Hermosa Beach sun atop her white cotton macrame hammock, she appreciated how perfect her life had become.  The beachfront property, fancy cars, and hipster food were great, but she also felt a personal satisfaction that she had not felt in a really long time.  Ever, maybe, but she didn’t want to remember too far back, she liked living her life, perfectly in the present, her past, in the past.  Her personal business was thriving and her health was soaring, at 38, she was more lean and flexible, then she had ever been in her youth.  Other things were going on too, people around her who would previously irk her or get on her nerves, were magically disappearing, or changing.   In many ways, her life had become, The True, Southern California Dream.  Her husband, Jonathan, who she’d broken into a man filled with peace and tranquility, a few months earlier, by overdoing some meditations, jogged over to her, after his Sunday Beach Volleyball game.  She secretly described him as broken, because the extreme laid backness that had taken over him would have been appalling to the man he was before.

“Who won love?” She asked, while she sipped at her chilled Organic Yerba Matte tea topped with fresh mint from her organic balcony herb garden.  She had been fasting that day, comfortably, as her body was now trained to her health ways.

“I think the other team,” her husband, Jonathan, responded absentmindedly as he picked up beach sand and slowly funneled it out his hand and onto his toes.  The dust he picked up all around him danced in the wind.  He licked beach sand off his lips.  “I wasn’t really paying attention.  Halfway through the game I got stuck looking at the waves created by the sand when disturbed by our feet.  I was enjoying looking at the similarity in sand waves and ocean waves.  One set smaller, one set permanent, kind of.  Longer anyway.”  Isabel had already began practicing Reiki on herself as Jonathan happily continued chatting about sand waves, ocean waves, microwaves, and inventing a giant plastic magnet which specifically attracted micro pieces of plastic.  Isabel didn’t question Jonathan anymore regarding possibility, she just let him happily create.  She remembered an earlier conversation about particles of plastic that are found on all beaches – and Jonathan’s fear that we all now ate plastic, plankton haunted him for a while.  His personality, though now seemingly on heavy medication, was still insistent.  As he described the scientific need for his imaginary invention, an awkward looking male in his mid 20’s caught Isabel’s eye.  Men his age always gave her the jitters, men born in the early 90’s.  This particular one looked like a wield mix of her high school boyfriend… and her brother.  She tried to concentrate on her shoe and jewelry collection, trying to ignore the creepy feeling she felt in the pit of her stomach.  It was worse than the time she had gotten drunk on cheap 7-Eleven alcohol and broken her gluten free, vegan diet on a California Burrito.  Stupid stuff like that happened to her whenever she went back home, something she dreaded doing and hardly ever did.  It sounds glamorous to say you are from San Diego, so usually she just left it at that.

She tried to ignore her strange attraction for the youth by chanting healing mantra’s in her head.  There was no denying however, that no matter how many times she de-storied her past, her connection, in the present, to this man, who was building sand castles with two little girls, was real.  And there was something about these little girls.  The shape of their heads, the octave of their shrieks, the way they connected with each other.  It all reminded her, of her two young nieces.  She abruptly shut the healing mantra’s inside her head, and instead turned her full attention to her husband.  She sat up from her self contained macrame hammock, and immersed herself in Jonathan’s description of their new business venture:  installing gray water systems in every home in Los Angeles.  She had to really concentrate on the discreet water catcher attached to a grade A filtration system.  She had to imagine the scarce rain that would feed potable water into the homes.  There were more details of course, but she was back to just letting the love of her life chit chat in the background.  The goal had been met, that strange family from the beach was off her mind.

Catching Up To Her

I took a break from building my website, because I had to catch up to her.  She isn’t still unpacking on Day 5.  She has dish soap.  She has fresh fruit available for her kids.  She is successful because she takes the time to honor what she already has.  I have to do laundry, so she can have pretty clothes to wear.

She has completed her unfinished business, I still have to catch up.