When Did I Become HER?!? (of Men, Unintentional Polygamy and a Whole Lot of WTF?)

Quick story.
OK so, I was getting dressed for my son-in-law's graduation from law school.
I was in full on Main Line Mom Mode.
Calvin Klein navy sheath dress: Check.
Pumps: Check.
Pearls: Check
Poker straight blowout: Check
Kenneth Cole clutch: Check
I looked in the mirror and thought: "Who in holy, blazing hell is THAT???"
My mother. That's who that is.
Not me. Never me. I'm a tree hugging, hippy-dippy, incense burning, yoga-loving, we-are-our-brother's-keeper, artistic, liberal-independent (ok I voted for Reagan once upon a time, but it was my first time and everyone was doing it!)

It startled me.
I got to thinking. "No, that country club princess is me too." She's in there.

And so is the glamazon, sex goddess of stage and screen. She shares quarters with the super-nerdy history buff who can tell you more about ancient religious customs than you ever wanted to hear. Like, EVER. They live right down the hall from the hard working single mom, who doesn't have time to bake cookies for the bakesale because she's got two god damned jobs, so will you just give her five minutes of quiet, please?!? Right next door is the girl who just wants to sing with the band and dance all night and stumble in at four in the morning with tired feet and a head full of adventurous stories to tell. She likes to have breakfast with the domestic goddess who loves to cook and will feed you until you are fit to burst (and make you a Tupperware of leftovers to take home, because you never know, you might want a nibble later.) She takes care of everyone, especially adventure girl, who does things like ziplining down volcanoes in Costa Rica and running off to Paris for her BFF's 50th birthday. And they all sit down at the table with Writer Chick to sort it all out.
They're all in there. In me. Along with multiple others.


No wonder the poor men in my life have been confused. They were involved in a polygamous relationship without their knowledge. Feel bad for those guys.
Because all of those women, in greater or lesser degrees, require acknowledgement. The biggest relationship fails I've had- and there have been a few - have been because the person with whom I was relating kept trying to fit me in to a category. A box. A pigeon hole. It's suffocating and then I am forced to flee. I have no choice. There is no oxygen in there.
When I've met someone who 'gets' my gypsy soul, (there have been exactly two), despite great love, or at least the potential for artistic power-couplehood, they end up having a gypsy soul of their very own and can't stay. (annnnnd cue broken heart....or at least bruised heart).

My father, who was the smartest human I've ever met, once told me "Tootsie, in relationships you need a string and a kite. If you have two strings they just lay on the ground and no one flies. If you have two kites, they both fly off into space and get lost. But when you have a kite and a string, the string holds the kite steady and the kite lifts the string as far in the air as the string lets it. And thank God for your mother because she's my string. Get yourself a string, TootsiePop. You are a kite."
He wasn't wrong. He got me.
 

 


If I ever find someone who gets me like that....I'll love him so hard his head will spin.
And he'll never be bored.
Ever.

2014 Post-Mortem...and Forward Motion

So I didn't name last year.
2012 was the Year of Making.
2013 was the Year of Manifesting/Publishing
I didn't name last year.


I think, partly as a result of being nameless, last year was a haphazard whirlwind of big changes. If I had to name 2014 retroactively, I think it might have been the Year of Mayhem. I wasn't entirely unfocused but my focus was rather like a light house beam, spinning around in a spiral to highlight different things at different times. As a result, everything changed in 2014, just not in any kind of linear fashion. 

 Everything changed. 

My residence- a significant upgrade. And I now live alone, which has its pros and cons, but for the most part, works beautifully for me. My job - In addition to my writing, I now manage a rad team of beauties who make the world more beautiful - and more importantly, help women realize their own unique beauty.  My children are wonderfully successful and happy in the main. I wrote and performed a cabaret that I am developing into a one woman show.  I played Marie Lombardi (wife of legendary football coach Vince Lombardi) on stage, as well as the comic book villain version of myself on another stage. I became a BeachBody coach and committed to helping other people be/stay healthy.  There's still a part of me that whispers in my ear - "You haven't done enough, accomplished enough." What's enough, I wonder? What did I miss?

-I didn't write every day. I wrote, but writing is like water - if you want it to flow, you have to turn on the faucet regularly. I had some self-inflicted plumbing issues in 2014. 
-I didn't care for my health properly. I turned 50 in September. And while I'm pretty fit, I didn't take care of some important baseline medical stuff. 
- I let sporadic time management derail some important progress, and allowed myself too much tech distraction. 

So let's name 2015... The Year of Motion.
Forward Motion- not haphazardly,  but rather on purpose.

Part of that is going to be blogging more. In the past I have focused on blogging about things to help others. If something inspired me, I'd pass it along in the hopes of inspiring someone else.  The funny thing about that is the things that actually inspired people were almost always different than my expectation. It was a continual surprise.
So I'm just going to tell my stories. Tell my truth. And continue to be surprised by what moves people.  Forward motion.

Another move forward will be to protect my health better. Get my behind to the doc's more often and get my important testing done (mammogram and colonoscopy etc.) Because all the fitness in the world can't cure cancer.

The final vehicle for motion is better time management.  
Less distraction, more presence. 
Being here, now. 
Doing the work in front of me. 
Not forecasting or projecting. 
Not rehashing the past. 
Just gifting myself and others with my mindful presence.

Here's to 2015!

The Year of Motion!

Boys vs. Girls...with Bullets?

Boys have cooties... but seriously...
The mass shooting in Isla Vista has me disturbed. 
Deeply.

A woman looks at bullet holes Saturday in the window of IV Deli Mart where part of Friday night’s mass shooting took place in Isla Vista, Calif. AP/Jae C. Hong

 
Relax, my more conservative, American friends, I'm not going to go into my usual "we should have reasonable gun safety measures in place" rant. This, despite the facts pointing out that in England, last year, there were shootings in the double digits....meanwhile in Philadelphia, last week, there were also shootings in the double digits. Which means that  either gun control laws are effective, or British people couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. You decide.

No, what has upset my soul more than usual is the deeply misogynistic  motive behind the shootings and the fact that there is a culture in America that supports it.
From the time we are in first grade and play "Boys vs Girls" games on the playground our differences can go from making us cooperative and playful to competitive and sadly, violent.

I've been reading quite a bit about the incident and letting all the information marinate since it happened.  Obviously, as an intelligent, thinking woman I'm offended by the so-called "Pick Up Artist" (PUA) community and their ignorant, entitled idea that women were put on this earth to be available to any man in any capacity, regardless of that man's particular merit (or lack thereof). The level of sheer douchebaggery is staggering.  What is equally disturbing is that the shooter belonged to an online community that labeled itself 'PUA-Hate', meaning these are men disenfranchised from the PUA movement.  One look at their websites immediately reveals that these men aren't upset at the lies and attempted manipulation by these so called pick up artists. (Side note: their tactics would only be effective on very young girls with self esteem issues) These PUA-Haters are upset because those tactics DIDN'T WORK. That's it.  Literally: " Boohoo, I didn't get laid by the hot girl." Swear to God, I'm not making this up. Google it. 

I will grant you that the gunman was mentally disturbed.  It would be easy to dismiss his actions as that of a solitary, fringe lunatic. But the systematic programming and thinking that fueled his rage was neither solitary nor fringe.  Laurie Penny stated it well in her excellent article in New Statesman:

"The ideology behind these attacks—and there is ideology—is simple. Women owe men. Women, as a class, as a sex, owe men sex, love, attention, “adoration,” in Rodger’s words. We owe them respect and obedience, and our refusal to give it to them is to blame for their anger, their violence—stupid sluts get what they deserve. Most of all, there is an overpowering sense of rage and entitlement: the conviction that men have been denied a birthright of easy power.
Capitalism commodifies that rage, monetizes it, disseminates it through handbooks and forums and crass mainstream pornography. It does not occur to these men that women might have experienced these very human things, too, because it does not occur to them that women are human, not really. Women are prizes to be caught and used or hags to be harassed or, occasionally, both.
Violent extremism always attracts the lost, the broken, young men full of rage at the hand they’ve been dealt. Violent extremism entices those who long to lash out at a system they believe has cheated them, but lack they courage to think for themselves, beyond the easy answers they are offered by peddlers of hate. Misogynist extremism is no different. For some time now misogynist extremism has been excused, as all acts of terrorism committed by white men are excused, as an aberration, as the work of random loons, not real men at all. The pattern is repeatedly denied: these are the words and actions of the disturbed."

Misogynistic extremism, and the hate crime that has resulted, are no different than the hate crimes of the KKK and other supremacist groups, or the killing of Matthew Shepherd in Laramie.
 I'm noticing a trend here.
These things happen as sweeping cultural advances are happening; advances that are crumbling, little by little, the white, male patriarchy in America. We may very well elect a woman president in a couple of years. We have already elected a black man to the Presidency. Marriage equality is rapidly becoming the law of the land. These are the last gasps of a dying patriarchy that has long held a stranglehold on the rest of us.  Much like a toddler screams the loudest right before he falls asleep.

(Sidenote: I love the people who say "Why can't we go back to the 1950's, when everything was easier, and more wholesome. The good old days."  Please. The 50's in America were awesome if you were a straight, white male. They pretty much sucked for everyone else. )

Here's the thing: the culture change needn't be scary. The pendulum must swing. The Universe demands balance. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. The all-male God has ruled and now the Goddess demands her due. A culture of community, nurture, an abhorrence for war, a value of all people without one dominating the other, these are divine feminine principles.
It's about time.

The strongest of men welcome the strength of their women. I know, I raised one.
Men needn't owe their masculinity to driving down another human. 
My son knows this. All "real men" know this.

Boys, however, have cooties. 

Get Real.

OR

How Being Less Than 100% Authentic Can Kill Your Mojo

 

I'm a pretty authentic chick, for the most part.
That said, when I love somebody I morph into a somewhat "permeable membrane", to quote Elizabeth Gilbert.  I so want to give my beloved - be it friend, children, or lover -  everything that would make them happy that I frequently land myself in the poorhouse, emotionally and literally.
I don't like to think of myself as a people pleaser and I'm not exactly being inauthentic....it's just that I leave out the ugly bits sometimes. I've historically let it go when my needs or boundaries aren't honored.  It's not worth fighting about.


Except that it is.
Worth fighting for, that is.
Now, I am fortunate that I have some real and true friends who will call me on this behavior when they catch it. Thank god for that. When my core group tells me "Your light is going out." "You've lost your mojo." and the fatal "I didn't want to say anything but..." I know it's time to act.
To dig deep and get real.
So I dig. I excavate and dust off all the stuff that I've buried down in the dirt and the muck in order to keep everyone's life pretty.



Do you know what happens then?
Honesty. I vomit hardcore, brutal honesty like I spent the last night on a Jack Daniels bender. It's not pretty. It frequently stinks. It can be really, quite awful. But it purges me. It cleanses me of the fakery and forces me to be 100 percent authentic. Afterward I feel lightened, relieved... the way throwing up is a relief after hours and hours of sweaty nausea. And then everyone says "Thank God, you're back".

There has to be a better way.

 So I'm trying the following three things.

 

1. Tell the unvarnished truth. - Even when it's hard and scary. Even when it hurts like hell.

2. Insist on boundaries being respected. -  By everyone. All the time. No exceptions.

3. Do not engage in toxic conversations. - Nope. Not at all.  Kindly say "I'm not doing this with you" and walk away.

I figure taking these three steps along with my daily meditation and spiritual practice will keep me from allowing myself to violate my Self.

What is your check and balance for keeping yourself on track and 100% authentic?
Feel free to comment below.

Namaste.

Limitless (poetic reboot)

The challenge was to pen a poem with the first words "I am..."
Here's mine.
Please feel free to add yours in the comments below!


Limitless

I am
a mighty creator, a music maker,
an illusory truth teller.
I am too pretty to feel this mean
and too abundant to lack the cash, the flow I desire.
I can make you feel things
and I choose to make you feel
as if you can fly without wings.
I choose to inspire you,
to require you to think
about where you are and whence you shall fly.
My purpose is divine,
to shine a light
on your gorgeousness, your delicious uniqueness,
your fearless quest to be...

divinity.

I am a bringer of words to light,
a singer of songs so bright
that to stand in their tide
is to let love wash over you
like a dream of waterfalls and sun rays.
I tell truths you try to hide.
Why?
Because your dreams frighten the lesser part of you,
the part that has tricked you
into thinking that this is all that you are?
I am a trumpet call
announcing your greatness,
renouncing the lies that kept you
fearful and tired.

I am the drum, the different drum
to which you can march
in order to get to the top
of your own pinnacle, miracle,
dream of dreams.

I am
a mother, a lover, a daughter, a sinner, a sage,
a maiden, a crone,
a limitless creature of pure radiance;
here to tell you that you, also,
are this.
Limitless.

Repost: Guarding Your Vision

This is a repost from October 2012 that I very much needed to revisit.
Thought perhaps some of you may need a reminder as well.
Namaste.



Vision.

Your vision.

What is it you want to manifest into the world?

Let’s brainstorm.

Be specific.

Is it your own restaurant, a book, a film, a family life, a business?

Is it traveling the world, living in a mansion, driving an Italian sports car, flying a jet?

What does it look like, feel like, smell like, sound like?

What is your vision for your best life?

Many people answer this question with “Well, my vision is just to get the bills paid on time, to get by.” Nope. Sorry, I’m going to have to call BS on that statement. That is not your vision. That is no one’s vision. That is simply the circumstances for which you and I and so many others have been conditioned to settle. There’s nothing wrong with paying the bills on time but that is only a stepping stone to your real vision. Think bigger. 

It’s ok – this is just between you and me. 

Actually this is just between you and you.

The importance of having a vision is in its power to move you. A vision will pull you forward. A vision will pull you out of depression. A vision will keep you going under the most grueling of circumstances. Don’t take my word for it. Pick up a copy of Viktor Frankl’s “Man’s Search for Meaning”. Reading that book is life changing. If you’re more of a movie buff, go and rent the gorgeous “La Vita e Bella” (Life is Beautiful).  The message is the same. Your vision is more powerful than your external circumstances. Your vision will keep you moving and pull you forward. So go ahead. Think big. Think HUGE.  Make a vision board. Put it on your Pinterest. Scrapbook it.  Journal about it. Your vision is only for you.

Let me say that again: Your vision is for you. Here’s a really cool thing about the Universe, God, Krishna, Louise, whatever you call your Source (for our purposes we’ll say God, because it’s the easiest to type). Pay attention now:

If God gives you the vision, God will give you the provision.
 

God is not going to send your provision through your sister’s vision, or your friend’s vision, or your mom’s vision of how it can be accomplished. Your vision is for you.

This means that after all the vision-creation and praying, you have to get up off your knees, get up off your ass and begin moving in the direction of your vision. The responsibility is yours. Take a course; get a part time job in your new field. You must do the thing that scares you. Do you know what happens if you don’t step out of your comfort zone? Nothing. A whole lot of nothing.

That being said, you must also guard your vision. You don’t take a premature baby out of the womb or the incubator and show her to all and sundry. “Look! Look at this baby I’m incubating! When she’s all ready to be born, she’s going to be something!” You don’t expose your little baby-vision to all the germs and cooties and negativity that some people might rain down on her little head. She won’t survive, and then you’ll be heartbroken for the rest of your life. No, rather you guard her, protect her and only expose her to those whom you know for sure will nurture and protect your baby vision, just as you would. You get around those who will support your vision and help her grow until she is ready to be birthed into the world. Finding support is relatively easy in the information age – it’s a big internet out there, people- and if you have a vision, guaranteed someone out there has a similar one. Google it.

The flip-side of that is you must also protect your vision from what I like to call the “Crazymakers”. These are the people who will crap all over your vision, not because they don’t love you, (many of them will be your close friends and family) but because they just don’t get it, and that’s ok. Your vision is for you. It’s not for them; however your little baby vision must be protected from them at all costs. They are not in line with your vision for any number of reasons, usually traceable back to their own childhood programming and damage. Don’t be mad, it has nothing to do with you. Many Crazymakers are fearful that if you achieve your dreams they’ll be left behind; or it will point out to them how they gave up on their vision. Regardless, they come at you with their own agendas that have nothing to do with nurturing your vision. You must not expose your vision regularly to those who are not in line with its manifestation or it will die.
It. Will. Die.  Guarding it is your responsibility.

There are five types of toxic people that are absolute dream killers. I’m sure you know at least one of them. Some people are combinations of two or more of these types. If they’re in your family or circle of friends, by all means, love them, honor them, but for your own sake, don’t share your dream with them. Let them be dazzled when your dream manifests in all its glory.

The Complainer
This person likes to hear his own voice. He constantly complains about what isn't working in his life and yet gets energy from complaining and dumping his frustrations on you and other people. Nothing is ever his fault. He’s been cheated, mistreated, misunderstood and done wrong. And it’s everyone’s fault but his.

The Vampire
This is the needy person who constantly calls to ask for your guidance, support, information, advice or whatever she needs to feel better in the moment. Because of her neediness, the conversation often revolves around her, and you can almost feel the life being sucked out of you during the conversation. Four words you’ll rarely hear her utter: “So, how are YOU?”

The Shamer
This person is hazardous to your health. Run; don’t walk to the nearest exit. The shamer will cut you off, put you down, reprimand you, or make fun of you or your ideas, almost always in front of others. He often ignores your boundaries and will try to convince you that this criticism is for your own good. His favorite saying is, “Well, I’m just being honest.” The shamer is the kind of person who makes you question your own sanity before his. His agenda is to build himself up by embarrassing you.

 The Devil’s Advocate
This is the person who discounts or takes exception to everything you say. Often, she has a strong need to be right and gains energy by finding fault with another’s position. It is really quite exhausting to have a conversation with this contentious person, so eventually you end up giving in and deciding to just listen. Then you end up avoiding them out of plain old weariness.

The Town Crier
This person tries to create a sense of intimacy by talking with you about others, behind their backs. They want you to feel privileged to be “in the know”. The Town Crier gets energy from relaying stories, opinions, and the latest "scoop." By gossiping about others, he creates a lack of safety in his relationships, whether he realizes it or not. After all, if he'll talk about someone else, he'll talk about you. Your inside stuff and more importantly, your vision, simply aren’t safe with this person.

Vision.

Your Vision.

What is it that you want to manifest into the world?

See it, feel it, smell it, touch it, taste it.
Most of all, protect it. 
It's your baby.

I will leave you today with an old, Italian joke:

A man goes everyday to church and kneels before the statue of St Francis of Assisi. “Francesco” he pleads, “Please, please, please, help me to win the lottery!”For weeks and weeks, he goes every day to the statue, and on his knees, begs:

“Please, please, please, help me to win the lottery!”

Finally after months of begging, St Francis comes to life, steps down off his pedestal and says to the man:
“My son, please, please, PLEASE…… buy a ticket!”

Your vision is your ticket.

Go get it.

Finding Beauty in the Mundane

Hello Darlings!
So I've been a bit blocked and doing some excavation. In digging through my past writings, I found a series of exercises I did during one particularly brutal bout of writer's block.
One exercise in particular caught my attention. 
I thought it rather good, if I may say so. 

Even though it is years old, it speaks to my current belief that part of my mission in life is to inspire people to be better. Not to do more, to be better. Not to have more, but to be better. Inside. I firmly believe the road to that goal is paved in moments. Everyday, mundane, ain't-no-big-thing moments. 

So I'm sharing one with you that I think is pretty relatable. 

Prompt: Write 400-500 words about a less than remarkable aspect of your life.

  Laundry.

 

It’s heavy. The basket, I mean. I look down the murky stairwell of my ivory tower and sigh at the thought of descending, step by burdened step, out into the irksome damp. I wish for the grace of those straight backed African women who can fluidly tip a basket to the top of their head and stride boldly with swinging arms. I am not so graceful. So, I schlump down the steps, listing like a drunken sailor, and fall out the front door. Juggling basket, soap and big hips, I cross the street. Moving as if shackled, I trudge up the ramp into the Laundromat and collapse in a heap of weariness and my son’s BVD’s.

Breathe. Just get it done.

Fetch a big, wheely basket and transfer the tangled mess of jeans and hoodies/ Load the machines: light, dark, colors, three in a row. Add soap and quarters, and breathe. 

In the bottom of the basket is a book. Excellent. Sit on beach blue molded plastic and transport to somewhere else. Outstanding.

The damned buzzer rings. Stupid, shrill call back to here. Drag up and back to the wheely basket to dredge the soggy lump down and skate over to the cavernous dryer. Brush off the sudden urge to climb in there in the hopes that it’s actually a teleportation device, cleverly disguised. Load damp clothes in, insert quarters, go! Breathe.

Back to the awkward chair and the book. Gone. No smell of bleach remains. No rumble of machinery, no coughing old man can penetrate the force field of gorgeous prose that enters through my eyes and insulates me utterly. Longer, this time, the respite before the cranking whine of the slowing dryer calls me back. Look lingeringly at the page and, sighing, arise to unwanted duty.

Open the door. Roll away the stone. Suddenly I’m fogged over in the enveloping scent of clean and warm. Breathe in. It’s good. Move the suddenly unburdensome burden to the chest high table and begin to make order of the chaos.  Jumbled pile of color becomes pristine stripes of folded precision. This isn’t so bad. Suddenly, there are only skyscrapers of warm, perfect clothes.

Carefully place each square in the basket. Breathe. Lift the weighty, clean smelling basket onto one big hip and stride back across the street, soap swinging from the free arm. Smile.

Perhaps grace in motion is a state of mind after all. Ascend lightly the stairs from dark into light and place careful rectangles at the foot of each bed. Wonderful emptiness in the basket, except for the battered book. 

Excellent. 

Breathe. 

"Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.
After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water." ~Zen Proverb

Namaste, 

Shanna

Get Aligned With Your Best Life

I used to work in corporate training and sales management. It was a good gig. It helped me raise my family. It allowed me to hold the fort while my children were growing up and needed the stability of little things like a paycheck and health insurance. It taught me that one of my callings, if not my biggest calling in life, is to inspire others. It brought me into daily fellowship with some extraordinary people. So why am I no longer doing that?
One word: alignment. 

As much as I loved those with whom I worked and aspects of my various corporate jobs; there was always a vague restlessness, a feeling that I was waiting, impatient for my real work to begin. I was hopelessly out of alignment.

You see, I am not someone who will ever feel aligned in a cubicle. I am a writer. I am an artist. I am a creative person. Now that I need be a fort-holder no longer, I align myself with my purpose and passion. I use the tools my corporate life gave me to be a better writer, a better artist and a more complete me. I am aligned.
Well, most of the time, anyway.

Do not make the mistake of underestimating alignment and its importance in our lives. How many of us even bother to consider the state of our physical, emotional, financial, and spiritual alignment? We know when our cars are out of alignment, we start drifting off the road, and have to constantly, manually readjust to “stay in our lane”. Sometimes, we grip the steering wheel tightly, white-knuckled; thinking that it may help us stay “aligned”. In fact, what we really need to do is to check the tire pressure and wear, and get ourselves into the shop for an all-wheel alignment. Then, when we return to our journey, we won’t have to constantly course correct, and we can relax our grip on the steering wheel of life a little…

So in my favored format of “three things”, I give you:

3 Ways to Get into Alignment.

 

1. Meditate. – Are you tired of hearing me say this, my darlings? Too bad. I will keep saying it  because it’s true. Don’t take my word for it. There exists study after study showing the efficacy of meditation not only for aligning your mind, body and spirit but also for stress management, battling depression, increased immunity, increased fertility, relief of inflammation, lowered blood pressure, and emotional balance. The University of Pennsylvania study showed that these benefits increase exponentially with daily practice and can even significantly reduce the severity of congestive heart failure. Allow yourself to get still so you can hear the small voice of spirit tell you what it wants. Just do it. It’s good for you.  
 

2. Visualize. – See your ideal life as if it already exists. This is not a new technique but how many of us actually do it? Decorate your dream home. Drive your Maserati. See your name on the New York Times Bestseller list or the Billboard Top 100. It needn’t take scads of time. Five to ten minutes daily should do it, once you’re somewhat practiced at it. Make it real. See it, smell it, taste it as if it is here now. (Hint: it is.) Most importantly, feel the emotions you know you will feel when your life is aligned and on purpose. Your emotions are powerful tools for manifestation, Use them.

3. Know and Walk Your Truth – This is your truth, not your parents’ expectations, not your friends’ idea of what is “normal”, not what you’ve been told you should be or do or want. Dig deep. Find what makes you come alive, even if you will meet with disapproval and even if it scares the bejesus out of you, especially, if it scares the bejesus out of you. Know for sure that what you want, wants you. Because it does.  It always has. (Matthew 7:7-8) Just get out of your own way and allow it to show up.

When you practice these three steps every day, with some degree of consistency, your actions cannot help but follow suit. You cannot help but begin to manifest in ways large and small the life you desire and the life you were put on this Earth to live. And when you are moving through the world in alignment with your highest purpose, the Universe conspires on your behalf and miraculous things occur. Don’t take my word for it. Try it for yourself.

Be well.