SuperExistencialisticExpialidocius!

Somehow this thought had reoccurred to me today.

The thought that I only know myself in comparison to others.  That because someone else is tall, I am small, that because they are mean, I am nice, or that because they’re nice, I’m a bitch, and because I think they’re stupid, I must be smart.

The thought  of me only knowing myself as a comparative element in an equation really set me up for  a shit realization. That by the very nature of playing comparisons, I immediately set me up for a me vs them paradigm.

Yes if it’s a me vs you situation, I can find false comfort in my being superior to the other in that moment. Some of that survivalist king of the jungle chromosome. Needing to see how we rank.

And many of us have already discovered that this bullshit survival technique is old paradigm and that we must really come to understand that we are all one…Yes. We.Are.All.One. …That very banal, and vague but deep as you want to imply that it is, statement that’s infiltrated our culture more than the local Starbucks.

But yes, we accept, sure we are all one. I don’t totally get it, but I do, but I don’t, but I do.

So I’m sitting here thinking, that if I don’t need to prove to myself that I’m King of the Jungle, by evidence of these elementary life quizzes,  then I don’t need to play comparisons, but without those comparisons…what’s left of me? Who am I?

And then it dawns on me.

 “Oh NOOOO!” Not this again!  Not the existential question of “Who am I?!” WTF! I thought I grew out of this stage. I thought I came up with plenty of really good answers along the lines of me being what I create myself to be, what I say I am in the present, and not a self to discover or find, but a self to be carved. Who am I?!?! I am enraged that this question should come back. It’s so 90’s.

Time to take a step back and laugh at myself all over again.

Honey Bunches of Nuts

Contrary to what some would say, I am in fact not obsessed with testicles.

Just because this happened once.

Or this…

Or that other time when this  happened…

Or this time when I performed at Coachella as a tranny construction builder

Or the other half dozen times I’ve showed the world some prosthetic pancake flap, I swear that owning a pair of testicles is not an obsession.  But being a fugly, gender bending yokel is.  Who doesn’t love that?! (Actually, most people don’t. Especially that broski at Coachella who threatened to punch me for waggling it in his face)

But whatever with that. This story isn’t about those times.

It’s about a very special talent show that took place in a beautiful oasis in Mexico.

Every year, 500 of our closest friends head down to Canyon de Guadelupe, to hang out in one of their 50 private hot tubs, dance until the dawn with our friends, hike to some waterfalls, and shamelessly embark in our wildest shenanigans.

As part of my contribution to that year’s festival, I started a community talent show. A place where we could come together, support, witness and celebrate each other’s gifts at any level of talent.  Like AA for people with art habits. A sweet little thing really.

People came forth and shared cute dance routines, sang songs,  pop n locked with puppets, and one friend in particular wrote the most heart opening, tear jerking poem.  Shit that makes you step back and say, wow, we are surrounded by some really special people. 

Well our piece was nothing short of “special.”

That day we had discussed and walked through the game plan a few times, but that night it was about to get real.

“Teddy. The time has come.  Come to the dinner table and take off your pants stat! Now give me your nuts”

“Greenz and Mark you too.”

As they unbuckled their pants and lobbed their warm nuts into my hands with such unadulterated trust, I remember thinking to myself, god, what did I do to deserve such great friends?

Bare butts out, we sat there in the eye of the storm, as people were cooking bacon, rolling spliffs next to lanterns, and mashing guacamole next to their hairy thighs.  I just remember feeling like a surgeon at that moment. Taking out the spirit gum and brushing it on with precision to their sac, gently blowing on their nuts to get the glue tacky, and carefully placing googly eyes onto their testicles, one at a time.  It was the most intimate I had ever been with someone’s sperm factory, that I wasn’t fucking, well for 2 of those dudes at least.

But it didn’t stop there. These balls were getting the full makeover. My girl Jesselynn and I had made these men, paper accordion legs, drawn in cholo eyebrows and a menacing smirk, dressed them up with ties, ball caps, and nut sac sized shades.  With the 3 boys, and my 2 sets of fakies, we had successfully created the E.T. versions of Jordan, Jonathan, Joey, Donnie and Danny.  NKOTB baby! And for you non fans- only the greatest boy band in the world, New Kids On the Block – scrotum style. 

The transformation was truly remarkable. We were like the fairy god brothers with our wands of wonder, dawning magic on these balls for the ball. They had become unrecognizable as their former selves. What once was a humble nutsac had become a parasitic twin at New York Fashion week who was hungrily feeding off their genitals. These fashionistas hung with such pride, ball bunched up and over their belt lines. 

And now our moment to perform had finally cum. After all the rehearsing I prayed it would be as glorious as it lived in my mind. Girls would be crying in hysterics, throwing their bodies at these alien men. And our band would just dance on like it was their every day.

We inched our way out with this cardboard diorama stage on poles, resting just at hip height.  There were curtains to hide the cast, and holes cut out of the top of the box, for our grand entrance.

"Listen up everybody if you want to take a chance. Now get on the floor and do the New Kids Dance!"

As the music cranked, our friends in the front row started circling their flash lights around. It felt like a real life rock concert!  Just mini, and not like a rock concert at all, but like a ghetto cardboard box dressed as a fake stage,with dust for haze and yeah, flashlights as our pro lighting rig.

But we were about to live!

“HANGIN’ TOUGH! HANGIN’ TOUGH! HANGIN’ TOUGH! Are you tough ENOUGH!”

And on cue we started dropping our nutsacs into the top of the box, as our googly eyed cast jostled around, jingling their accordion legs like Pinnochio doing the Bernie.

We did it! It’s happening! If I could only see their faces now!

As the song continued however, we quickly forgot all of our entrance and exit cues, our crosses, the fucking grape vine. Our legs started to tear off, coming in and out of the cut out holes, the diorama box started falling apart, eyes were sliding off, and the whole thing just started to melt. At that moment I had never wanted to run off a stage as much as that.  I felt so naked, and my pair was fake!

The song finally ended and with our nuts in a literal bunch, and we gimped off the stage like we were in a 3 legged race.

Though I was pretty mortified about the disastrous end to our testicular show, it goes down in infamy as one of the most purely, ridiculous moments of my life. A true moment of fuck it, let's get punk rock on this hippy fest. And while there have been some famous Dick in a Box moments, who the hell has ever had a Testicular Boy Band in a box? Check.

Mexican Wrestling with Snoop Dog Reffin'

I just remembered I did this. Pretty hilarious. There isn't much too it other than I'm the girl in all black with just one sleeve, and the other girl was not making the job easy.
Oh and Snoop never stops smoking and NEVER stops rapping whether the camera is on or off.
I actually had to deny the blunt because I was too high to wrestle from just standing next to him.

Here's the video!

Bag of Dicks

Eat a bag of dicks.

This has become a semi popular phrase that has erupted in the last several years.

I’m not exactly sure how to take it….the phrase I mean…not the bag of dicks.  It’s vulgar to say the least, but is this intended to be a message of ill will? It seems to me, that if you’re the type that eats dick, then this may be a message of galactic abundance.  Like a cornucopia of cock.   Someone set the table! It’s dick for dinner again!

All that aside, it does remind me of a rather embarrassing  moment in life, that did involve a bag of dicks.

In my college years, I had a friend Arik, who was, and still remains to be one of the crudest people that I know.  He would insult people for sport and package it up with such artistry you kind of had to look back at him in awe.  He is a near carbon copy of Coach Sylvester from Glee, except Asian and gay.  He’d say things like, “I’m dating a Mexcian now and when I lick his butthole, it tastes like beans.”  Or do things like tell a guy that the self tanner in his hand was lube and wait for them to scream like girls when they saw their orange dicks…Yeah Arik was a piece of work. 

But underneath all of his vindictive humor, he earnestly cared for those he loved, and could be incredibly supportive and loyal.  So despite the voracious teasing I would get from him telling people my vagina had teeth or that I was actually a man in drag, I stuck around.  I knew who he was on the inside.

Well Arik had this tradition where he thought he needed to help a sister out.  So for EVERY birthday, Christmas, Easter, Graduation…anything that seemed like a time for gift giving, I would always get the same thing.  A dildo.  But they weren’t all the same kind.  There were a few traditional dildos, some glass,  some vibrated, some unfathomably big, some weren’t dicks at all but fists….After 4 years of friendship, the collection grew past what you’d think the average college girl should have. Not knowing what to do with them really, I would just stuff them in this cheap blue GAP bag and shove it under my bed.

Once I graduated from college and received my graduation dildo, I moved back into my parents home for a few months.  I took their downstairs bedroom and had it pretty sweet for a little while.  Eventually I found a home and moved all of my stuff out of there.

A few years after my move, my parents told me that a pipe had burst in their home and flooded the downstairs bedroom.   Thankfully that was the only room to get hit and the rest of the house seemed fine.

They did tell me however that I should come back and collect the things I had left in that room.

No problem.   As I entered the room,  I looked around and felt sorry that they had to gut the room out, toss all the old furniture and repair the damaged walls.  I inspected the room and looked in the closet for my remaining things.  When I opened the door, the first thing I saw was a very familiar looking blue bag.   Oh NO! It was my bag of dicks.

My.bag.of.dicks!  The bag of dicks that USED to live under my bed.   Seeing as how they weren’t a part of my every day existence, I completely forgot about them when I moved out, and now here they were neatly put away in the closet.  Horrified, all I could imagine were my parents opening the door to the flooded room and dicks just floating across the floor.  Who discovered these dicks and decided to put them back in the bag and on the closet shelf?  Was it my mother or my father? Is there really a better scenario to this? Did they towel dry them before placing them back in their cheap, drawstring, plastic bag?

It immediately brought me back to my childhood when I would repeatedly hump my grandparent’s vibrating back pillow, and not understand my parents and grandparents when they would look at me highly alarmed and ask me to stop.  When my parents saw that bag of dicks, they had to have assumed their daughter grew up to be some sexually obsessed freak.  Ugh. Completely mortified and upset with embarrassment, I tossed the bag into the trash, hoping that the terrible feeling of shame would go with it too.   But it didn’t. 

Thankfully the bag was never mentioned and we all pretended like nothing ever happened. 

“Eat a bag of dicks” you say?  Too ambiguous for me.   I say, “Mind fuck your parents with a bag of dicks!”  That’ll get ‘em…

Unidentified Flying Object

In the spring of 2003, a group of friends and I decided we would go on a camping trip.  We packed 2 vehicles in with buddies, gear and enough food that could feed an army of stoned high school boys.  And being the intelligent college kids that we were, we left San Diego just in time to hit LA traffic 20 minutes out  of S.D.

Great. 

Only 4 hours to get to LA and then another 4 hours to our destination.

But not to worry. We were well equipped with a lifestyle supply of assenine humor, munchies, and every 80’s pop singer’s greatest hits…. Can you say Wilson Phillips, “Hold on?” (The mere mention of that song and I get lost into a vortex of Wilson Phillips.  Singing it outloud in my head as my eyes start to glaze over and my slack jaw murmurs every other word… :gasp!: I’ve revealed too much)

Anyhow, as we crept up the 5 frwy in L.A. traffic that moved slower than a fat kid moving toward the veggie tray, we were starting to near Anaheim, the proud home of Disneyland.  Sitting in the backseat driver’s side, I noticed this interesting plume of smoke billowing out behind what looked like an acme missile. Kind of that classic cartoon missile shape.   The cloud behind it was this technicolored ribbon of bright hued oranges, to purples and blues. 

As I stared at it, I couldn’t quite understand what it was. The smoke didn’t seem to move or dissipate into the atmosphere at all. It seemed to be made of frosting, decorating the sky and frozen in time.

Perhaps it was a new ride at Disneyland?  A big missile seemed like an odd choice for the happiest place on earth.  I also don't recall ever being able to see any rides from the freeway.

As we continued to inch along the 5, I kept looking at this missile with this radiantly long plume, trailing behind it. It was mesmorizing in a way.  The smoke was an incredible array of sunset colors and the tail seemed like it was a long and fiery comet. And though it never seemed to travel or move, the object seemed to grow at an indistinguishable rate like those dinosaur toys that grow in water.  The longer we sat in the car, the bigger it got and the longer the tail grew, but the smoke remained a permanent fixture in the sky.

Eventually the object grew large enough that it didn’t seem logical for it to be a ride at Disneyland in the distance.  However,  I still could not figure out what it was. And what really started to perplex me, was that I also could not understand the distance it was to us, and even the shape.  I had at one point sworn that it was a Billboard perhaps. A 2 dimensional painting of a missile and a comet painted so real that it was a highly effective optical illusion, but not an actual object in the sky.   The other 2 people in the car also started to become very confused.  None of us could get a grasp on it’s actual size, relation in proximity to us, if it was a sculptural object or if it was a photograph.  And at this point we hadn’t even questioned if it was moving or not, because again it seemed to be completely still.

The object however, did not stop growing and we became increasingly disturbed by this.  We started calling the other car on our cell phones, highly alarmed. Wondering if they could explain what we were seeing, but they were as equally confused and frightened.  And the object, it just continued to grow.

The tension in the car went from inquisitive and confused to paniced and scared.  I remember screaming over and over again, “What is that thing?”  And like the most horrific zit on Prom day, the object did not stop growing.  I remember looking out of the backseat window and seeing that it had taken up almost all of the visual property  my window would allow.  

All I could see was silver.

At this point, we were in full swing manic mode.  Everybody in the car was screaming and pointing, grasping at some kind of understanding on what it could be.  I wish I could explain the surrealism of it and absurdity that it presented our feebile minds with.  How could something grow to that size without ever appearing to move?  Why can’t I understand where it actually is in relation to me and at what speed it is growing? 

When I looked out the other side of the car, I realized it wasn’t just our car’s own collective mental trip.  People were frightened to the core.  Panicing on their cell phones,  rubber necking out of their windows and getting into car crash after car crash.  It was like a scene from Independence day.  I must have seen at least 5 sepearate car crashes within the span of 2 minutes.  And no one even cared. They simply stayed on their phones and stepped out of their cars in the standstill highway, staring at the huge metal object in the sky.

At its peak, the object had grown so large in size that I could no longer see around it.  All I could see was a tiny sliver of blue sky on the horizon and the rest of the sky was covered by an object that was a brilliant and bright silver.  It was completely smooth like looking at the underbelly of a spoon from God.  

The sheer size of it made it impossible for me to comprehend what was happening, where it was in distance, and again, whether or not it was moving.  It is the most massive thing I have ever seen and truly unfathomable on all accounts. 

After several moments of screaming and demanding to know what it was, my mind eventually found a calm and a peace.  I was going to die.  There was no other option.  There was no physical way that we could drive away from the situation.  It was so massive that I wasn’t sure anyone in the United States would be able to escape the possible reprecussions of what was about to happen.  I had a few imagined moments of a sudden explosion, and my last images being of me and my friends flying through the air in slow motion as the world burned beneath us.  And then I realized that I would rather not suffer in pain and just embrace what would happen next.

And then to my surprise, when there was hardly any sky left to be witnessed, I blinked.

I blinked and there was a flash of light and the entire metal object seemed to just pop like a bubble. Vanished.  Completely plucked from the sky.  At that moment all of time stood completely still.  Here it comes, I thought to myself.   This is the moment before everything gets blown to smithereans. And I just sat there, calmly, waiting for it. Waiting to hear the thunderous boom and to have my body atomized into the atmosphere…

But it never came.

Nothing. Ever came.

No boom, no explosion, not even a gust of wind happened. Nothing.  I couldn’t believe it.  I simply could. Not. Believe. It.  How do you get rid of an object so unfathomably large, in a splice of a second without some crazy vaccum effect, or at least a loud noise? A butterfly could have farted and it would have had a bigger impact.  Nothing.  

At first I was certain that it was something of the chemical warfare variety.  Anthrax or Napalm or something that might take a few minutes for it to kick into effect. But again there was nothing.

Was it all a dream?  Had I imagined all of this?  But when I looked back  into the sky, the long, technicolored plume of smoke still remained. As buoyant, and pristine as ever. It was as if someone had plasticeaned the smoke and it was hung by a string in the sky. 

The people standing on the freeway were equally as stunned. No one could believe what had happened and strangely, there wasn’t much conversation around it either. People hoped back into their cars and we all continued to inch up the 5 freeway that Friday afternoon as if all was normal again.

I immediately started to call several of my friends and family and demanding that they turn on the news and see if anything was being reported about the event that just occurred.  Nothing. There was nothing on the news.

An hour had gone by and finally we heard a few reports on the radio.  The news had tried to pass it off as a missile launch testing that was well publicized before it occurred.  There were families on the news stating that they knew there would be a missile launch test and had all  brought out launch chairs and gathered as a family to watch. They had been anticipating it all week.  Some went so far as to say that they had created a family picnic outside so they would be sure not to miss it.

This was the first time that I had realized the elaborate and blatant lies that the news had been feeding us. 

A missile launch test over the 5 freeway in Anaheim on a Friday at 5pm?  You couldn’t find a desert to do this in the wee hours of the night?  The Mojave was suddenly occupied with every ruler of every country that afternoon, so you decided to test over Los Angeles during traffic hour?

And what was even more disturbing was that I had friends believe the news account versus my first hand experience. A first hand experience that I shared with 2 others in my car, and 3 other friends in the car behind us.  Not to mention the several hundred people that got into a car accident at the same time that will need to explain to their insurance companies that they saw a huge metal disc that filled the entire sky.

To this day, I can’t be certain that I know what I saw that day and how it disappeared so effortlessly.   Like the simple pop of a bubble and boom / flash it’s vanished.  I have my theories and ideas about it. If you’re interested, you can ask me about it some time.  Something along the lines of living in a holographic universe…if that's your topic. 

What I find almost disturbing however, is that this last year, I had a 10 year reunion with the same friends that were on that trip.  I asked them to recount the details as they saw it, just to make sure I had not inflated the story over the years and that I remembered it all correctly.  This is probably THE most significant thing I have ever witnessed with my own eyes and it is really important to me that I have all the details right.  The 2 in my car remembered it EXACTLY as I did. I did not have to fill in the blanks for them, they told me their story, just as I described here.  What I found interesting however is that the other car did not remember the incident very well at all until we reminded them of how it just vanished.  At that point it came back to them, and they smiled it off. 

HOW could you have EVER forgotten about that?  It was almost as though it was too much for the human mind to comprehend, so it didn’t.  It got placed in a box labeled, “unexplainable” and placed on a dusty shelf in the back of their brains.  It makes me wonder how often this happens to all of us. 

All I know, is that, that must have been what happened to the Native Americans when the Europeans ships first came upon their land. There are stories that they weren’t even capable of seeing the ships until they were nearly on land because their brains had never fathomed that reality before, so it just did not compute.

Regardless, I am grateful that things did not end in tragedy and suffering. And if it is indeed holographic technology, I can't wait to get my hands on it too. I'd sure as hell create something way cooler than a silver disk in the sky. 

Aliens + Angels = BFF's

As the Winter Solstice approaches, I am feeling very aware of the shifting in energy and my feelings of needing to purge old stories, and make clearer declarations of who I am becoming and what I invite into my life.   Like a snake, I can feel myself shedding old skin with clouded eyes, and starting the process to emerge.  Diving into the darkness of winter and emerging into the light of spring to come.

I was inspired to find a meditation to use for focus in this time and the first thing that came up was a meditation with Archangel Gabriel. The Guardian who presides over winter. He is the Archangel of Vision, and also the Archangel of revelation, creativity and faithful service…. How perfectly suited for this time.

And it brought be back to this dream…this dream when I first met Gabriel.  This dream that I have relived over and over again and it still comes back to teach me.  It was one of the most powerful and profound “dreams” I have ever had and I remember every detail…

I suddenly woke up in my pod.  That’s right. A pod, just like the kind in the Matrix.  Except I wasn’t in a spaceship.   I was in a huge cave.  And not just me, but thousands of people, sleeping in their pods.

When I woke, I sat up out of my pod and looked around. The pods were half submerged in a shallow pool of electric blue water that seemed to be bottom lit.   They were glowing from the light reflecting into their spheres, making them look like angelic dew drops perfectly in a row.

As I started to become present to my surroundings and what was happening, I immediately thought I should not be awake.  This was a mistake. I broke some kind of rule like I always do and here I am.  I must have died on earth.

I looked next to me and I saw many friends from different stages of my life all asleep in their clear glowing eggs. I even saw Ex President Bush Jr a few rows over.

As I looked around the cave, I noticed a tiny thread of light shining down into the cave like a silver string from heaven.  The walls seemed to dance with moving shadows. Shadows of animals moving back and forth, watching us.  And as I looked over, I saw a little brown alien, walking by each pod with his hand out.  He was short with skinny limbs, a little belly, and almost dreadlocked, curly hair.   He moved through the rows, steadily and methodically, whispering to each person in their pod, what their life mission was.

I crept out of my pod as I observed him doing his work and I eventually felt called to approached him.  What happened next took me completely by surprise.

He turned to me and ever so gently touched my forehead.  At that moment I felt this very physical and powerful, thick wash of warm, gooey love pour over me. Melting over my body and through my soul like a warm syrup.  But in all of its power and bigness, it never felt heavy.  It was strangely so light and breathable.  Never cumbersome.  The duality of the magnitude of this strong power, balanced by a freeness and a liberty left me feeling so safely helpless.   A light went off in my soul and I thought instantly, “This is what true love feels like.”  Love in its most authentic and pure form. Something that my soul recognized instantly and melted into, and something that I had never experienced in my earthly body.  It was so foreign and so familiar.

All time seemed to stand still.  It was completely obsolete.   I have no idea how long I stood there, with my eyes closed letting the nectar drip over me and fill my entire being.  But when I finally opened my eyes softly, he had already walked away and was continuing his work blessing the people sleeping in their pods, reminding them of their highest purpose.

I stood there heart wide open, feeling courageously vulnerable, rooted and corrected.  My eyes were welling up with tears of gratitude. So grateful that I got to feel that level of love and pureness again. Something that I’d receive glimmers of here and there, but for the most part love on that level had always seemed so conceptual and theoretical.  But here I was basking in it now and I knew that I must never forget this feeling again. That now that I‘ve felt it and know it, that I must always work to come back to that place if I were to get lost.

So completely overwhelmed with inspiration and gratitude, I knew I could not hold on to it on my own. I had to share it.

So I came back to the little alien, closed my eyes and touched his heart.  I stood there with him and tried my best to return the favor and fill him with as much love as he gave to me.   And as we stood there, we both opened our eyes.  I looked at him and his eyes were full of tears. And then he spoke.  His name was Anthony.

He asked me, “ Do you know when the last time anyone has touched me?” to which I replied, “I do not.”

“It has been millions upon millions of years.”

I couldn’t believe that it had been so long since another being had touched him.   I stood there slightly baffled, not knowing how to respond.

And just when I thought it might be time for my awkward exit and directions out of the cave, Anthony turned to me and said, “I have something for you.”

He then presented me with what he called a water bow.  It looked like a 9 ft. tall bow and arrow, made of black wrought iron steel.  It was a sculptural masterpiece, bent into the most beautiful and intricate swirl patterns.  There were 2 arrows mounted on it and it seemed to tower over me in its height and majesty.   He told me that it was my tool to use in the light revolution.

The next thing he told me was, “Gabriel.  Gabriel will be your partner.”  And without looking, I could feel a big, strong and safe presence standing behind me. But I never turned to look at him.  I did not want to break my gaze with Anthony.

“Together you and Gabriel will fight the light revolution. Use him as your guide and he will protect you.”

I simply nodded and thanked him and before I knew it, Gabriel and I were leaving the cave.  Squeezing through tight and muddy corridors we emerged into a gorgeous field of tall, silvery grass, lit by the full moon.

I stood there feeling the gentle breeze of the night gliding across my skin, and I had never felt so complete in my entire life.

And then I woke.

In the years since, I have thought of this dream often. Wondering what this water bow is and how it works, if I am indeed doing this work that I am meant to do or if I am completely failing, and who the heck is Gabriel anyways?

Since then, so much has emerged from this dream.

The day after the dream, I told one of my best friends about it.  Is he spiritual? Yes, but he hides it underneath the most surly attitude.  As I started to tell him this story however, he jumped out of his chair and began to weep.  The night before he too had a dream where he was presented a bow and arrow from an angel, made of fire, with 2 bows and was told it was his tool to use in the light revolution. Pretty stunning.

But what is this bow?

I once talked to a Native American Priest about this to which he was extremely concerned.  He told me that the water bow was only used in the spirit realm and that once when he was a young boy, he saw his grandfather taken underground by a group of little brown men and that his grandfather had never come back since then. He warned me to be careful and not to be tricked by them.  He was genuinely afraid I would be kidnapped forever.   But he did not have my experience and he did not know the profound beauty I had experienced with one of these little brown men, with Anthony.

Then a little later I heard of a story of a man who was invited to go to a spiritual council with a group of Mayan priests.  It was quite the big deal as no one had ever been invited that was not of Maya descent.  But because of his work, they had invited him.  He told a story of him walking through a field at night and moving through muddy corridors into a cave.  The cave had opened up inside and there was a shallow pool of electric blue water.  He recounts that there were shadows of animals on the walls and what looked like little brown men hiding in the shadows.  This was his waking account.

The moment I heard this story, I shuddered. I knew instantly that, that is where I went to in my dreams that night.  The similarity of the environment described was completely uncanny.

I have also come to learn that Gabriel… Gabriel is a really great guy. Gabriel’s role as a bringer of visions makes him the Archangel who reveals the truth of one’s unique role in the world.  The Soul’s true calling or higher purpose if you will, and empowers one to pursue that Higher Purpose successfully.  Pretty friggin’ stoked to have him around, I’ll say.

To this day, the mystery of this dream has not been completely unraveled.   But I learn little by little as I move through this life.

And I realize that this is some intensly hippy woo woo magic for some of you. But you know what, in this world, the idea of what is real and what is true seems so arbitrary to me. I feel that I don’t actually know anything.  I don’t really know why the sky is blue, or how a car works, or even what an object truly looks like.  If I see the world like this, and flies can see UV colored rays and view it through a lens which multiplies it into 6…I can’t believe that I know that there is a right and singular truth.  There are things to be discovered and learned and I choose to trust those theories and ideas, but in reality, I don’t actually know those things to be true.  I just believe them.  The ONLY thing that I know,  I know, is how I feel. And that is it.

That is my only sense of truth.

So in that sense, I am so profoundly grateful for the gift of knowing that feeling of love and goodness in my heart.  I only wish that I was better at retaining it.   I am also so grateful to know that I can always call upon spirit to keep me on my own unique path.   I am so humbled by it.

So now, I guess let’s just try and not fuck it up.