“Fuck that Meditation”

I’ve been feeling unsettled for the past week or so, and instead of dwelling on the feeling, I’ve been observing it with curiosity. It all started with me trying a meditation style that was suggested to me, which made me uncomfortable. Despite the discomfort, I practiced it about five times before something exciting happened. My higher self came through with a clear message, “Fuck that mediation, it ain’t for you, but first, you gotta learn why!” Of course, my higher self doesn’t communicate like that, but I do, and that’s how I interpreted it. This simple meditation that didn’t feel right from the start ended up being just right in the way that I learned it wasn’t right for me. I’m glad I stayed curious enough for five miserable sessions rather than giving up so that this message could come through.

I realized that I don’t work well with the practice of research, external sources, perfectionism, and urgency when it comes to connecting with and receiving information from higher sources. Call it god, source, higher selves, christ consciousness, consciousness, light-working guides, etc. They are all on the same frequency from my channeling and understanding. I’ve never been someone who does external research surrounding spirituality, my brain tends to shut down, and it’s impossible to retain information. But this doesn’t mean I’m closed off to new things or learning from others. I embrace fluidity and believe it’s essential for our personal and communal growth. I honor and learn from other people’s practices, considering them sacred and valuable. However, for something to truly resonate with me, it has to be integrated in a deeply personal way.

The information I receive needs to flow through my body, serving as a measuring tool for its authenticity and trustworthiness. I believe this is why it’s challenging for me to connect with information through the internet; it often doesn’t resonate with me on an emotional and energetic level for some reason. Instead, the information must pass through my own frequency filtering system to be received and trusted. I think it’s brilliant that this method works for others because we all gain knowledge and absorb information in different ways. It’s just a wild realization to have about myself, and I’m grateful for the wisdom and direction it has provided. Although it’s hard to explain, and I’m sure it sounds crazy, it happens in a very scientific, systematic way. We know so little about ourselves, our capacity, and our connections to everything.

When it comes to adopting someone else’s beliefs or practices, it needs to have a strong sense of familiarity in my heart. There can’t be any questions or reservations; it has to feel like the message was specifically sent to me, as if someone else is tuning in to the same unique radio frequency. This past week, I got caught in a rushed, ego-driven state, challenging my self-trust and discernment, and made the “mistake” of not following my intuition. This “mistake” resulted in an even more profound lesson that I needed to continue in my spiritual journey. Throughout my life, I’ve always trusted that the information I need will come to me when I’m ready, without the need for begging or demanding it, and that is true. It is also true that we need to fuck up and challenge our intuition in order to really lock in and understand how it works and why it’s so damn vital to our lives.

Now, from a wider perspective, this lesson hits on so many more critical issues, not only for me but for humanity in general.

How often do we believe that the things we need to find joy, healing, and satisfaction are outside of ourselves? How often, instead of slowing down and giving ourselves enough space and time to hear our messages, are we desperately researching for answers from other places and people? How often, instead of slowing down and giving ourselves enough space and time to experience our own medicine, are we convincing ourselves that something or someone else’s is stronger and more valuable?

Fuck that meditation. I’m going back to the one that works for me and has my essence weaved all over it. Fuck that weird ass meditation…but thanks for the lesson. See you never.

Karen Sighting

I’d just finished picking up a couple things from the grocery store for my friend’s baby shower. I was adding the destination to my phone when I heard a violent bang on the passenger window. It was a woman, seemingly foaming at the mouth and throwing her cracky noodle arms all over the place. She screamed, “Quit your mother fuckin’ typin’ on your stupid Facebook phone and start driving.”

Gathering all the information quickly and seeing her car parked behind me, stopping traffic, I realized I was encountering a real-live Karen like the ones on the internet. As unexpected as a Big Foot sighting, but sadly not as rare or exciting. She stomped in her bright green crocks back towards her car, and when I made eye contact with her redneck kid in the backseat, it stuck its tongue out at me. At least her asshole feet are comfortable while she runs around terrorizing the world, I thought, and I bet her asshole son wears em’ too.

I got out of my car and yelled, “What the fuck is a Facebook phone?”

She stopped in her shitty tracks and whipped her head around. Her eyes bulged and began twitching like a malfunctioning robot, and she banged her fists on her hood, letting out a scream you only hear from birthing women… or Karens.

She growled, “I need to get to the store, and you’re sittin’ here playin’ on your fuckin’ phone. Now move!”

I let out a petty laugh, “You do realize the amount of time it’s taken to throw this bitch fit, you could have already parked and walked your crazy ass into the store, right?”

As soon as the logical words slipped out of my mouth, I remembered that Karens don’t work on logic. She lost it and began screaming, snarling, and pulling at her hair. Now, because sometimes you gotta out crazy the crazy to deescalate the situation, I zeroed in on the yogurt at the top of my grocery bag. I grabbed the yogurt, opened it fiercely, and raised it above my head. “Alright, you cooky bitch you wanna play with mama?”

Confused, she stopped and watched me in horror as I widened my eyes, smearing the yogurt all over my face and dumping it down the front of my pants. Quiet as a fucking mouse, she jumped into her car, and while speeding off, she yelled: “You need help, you fuckin’ psycho.”

I waved at the recording bystanders, got in my car calmly, and drove off. For the rest of my trip, with yogurt swamping my private crevices, I thought about how I probably did need help… But not as much as that crazy bitch.


Today I was reminded about how necessary it is for me to see space, vastness.⁣

I was reminded of who I am when I forget the power of expanse. I am closed, stiff, lacking depth energetically and physically. ⁣

I am stuck, scared, stubborn, and full of judgment. I am a person that discounts the trauma and truth of myself and others. ⁣

I also know in my heart that I am not these shallow and short-sided things. ⁣

We need vast. We need space in all of its aspects and metaphors. It’s what keeps us challenging, recognizing, and respecting perspective. This is what keeps us connecting to ourselves, others, and the natural world.⁣

Grateful for these vast Mexican views at my fingertips, reminding me of perspective, scope, and flexibility.⁣

It’s easy to allow so many days to pass with tunnel vision. Eyes to screens, ears only open to information, people, and thoughts that stroke our contrived and eggshell narratives.⁣

Today I sat on a rock and looked out at land so far. And although it was so far I could feel its hum, its warmth, its words, and its depth inside of me.⁣

Today I was reminded how important it is to keep my space and thoughts vast, especially in a world and time where we are being forced into the tiniest of places.⁣

Today I was reminded that these tiny places are not where I belong and that I stretch further from my body than I even have the capacity to realize.⁣

And although these reminders can feel empty and intangible, unscientific, I am reminded that feeling is real, intuition is real, and I have every goddamn right to believe in this so called “magic.”

House Call

⁣“What the fuck are you doing here?”⁣

I must have blacked out or something. I guess not completely out of character but when I came to I was standing in the middle of a hollowed out tree and it was dark and freezing. I shivered and wrapped my arms around my body feeling bare skin, wondering why I didn’t have a jacket.⁣

“Are you gonna answer me, what the fuck are you doing here?”⁣

Her voice startled me and I squinted my eyes trying to make sense of the dark figure plastered up against the other side of the tree. I felt as though my thoughts were being run through thick glue and when they finally began to thin out, I gasped.⁣

I recognized her voice and my eyes immediately filled with tears and I could feel that familiar stress and tightening in my throat. I hadn’t felt that feeling since I was a teenager. I reached my hand up to my neck and began to massage it lightly.⁣

I shivered again this time not from the cold surrounding me, but from the cold creeping inside of my body.⁣

She laughed sarcastically and shifted her feet against the dirt, creating a cavernous echo. “Just fuckin’ run like you always do.”⁣ Her voice was deep and convincing.⁣

She stepped closer to me and my eyes began to adjust. She had on the same clothes as the last time I saw her. A blue zip up sweater with two stars on the front, baggy jeans that her frail frame was swimming in and converse shoes. My body froze in complete horror and my fingers began to curl inwards tight and painful.⁣

She took another step closer and I could see her familiar face. Her detached, torpid eyes staring straight into mine. Nothing. All signs of life were long gone, her spirit fled and old cigarette burns punctured through where her broken heart used to subsist. ⁣

It felt like every piece of my insides were being strangled and I thought to myself that this must be what it feels like right when you get tased or have a seizure. ⁣
I thought to myself that I’d felt this feeling before. ⁣
WE’VE felt this feeling before. ⁣
Her eyebrows slightly lifted to my thought, our thought and she nodded at me.⁣

I closed my soaked eyes and began to count my breath, four seconds in and four seconds out. ⁣

Memory. Body shaking.⁣
Memory. Body tightening.⁣
Memory. Throat closing.⁣
Memory. Deep fucking breaths.⁣

Eyes, still closed, I cleared my throat and my voice trembled, “I wasn’t expecting you.”⁣

She grabbed both of my frozen arms tightly and my eyes shot open to meet hers.⁣

“Of course you weren’t expecting me, your usually too busy trying to play with that feral child.”⁣

The swallow of my spit reverberated against the walls of the hollow tree and I began to count my breathe again.⁣
Four seconds in, four seconds out.⁣

Marriage Vol.2

We’d been arguing for over an hour and had finally hit a lull. I wrapped my hands around my neck to stop the words from spilling out. It didn’t work.

“You know, sometimes it feels like you enjoy sucking the fucking spirit out of me.”

The words felt like the truest I’d spoken in a long time, and I exhaled. He laughed in disbelief and left the house. I sat on the bed tracing the origins of my feelings. They took me back to being a child, having no army, and being ridiculed for being sensitive so much that I stopped feeling entirely. It reminded me of swallowing so much glass that my soul and spirit left my body. It reminded me of having no choices. It reminded me of the physical pain that I used to get and still get when my heart gets shut down.

Now, as an adult, I’m relearning and dethawing. Feeling everything with as much courage as I can muster and finding simple things that bring me joy, only to have his breath of fire turn it to ashes with one comment. He doesn’t even know how powerful he is because things would be different if he did.

So I dragged my pathetic ass downstairs and decided, crying or not, the fucking dishes still needed to be done.

Amnestic Reunion

I knew I recognized that heart

Like déjà  vu
I squint and scan my deficient mind
Which isn’t where I’d find you
Instead, I close my eyes, and there you are, everywhere
Our amnestic reunion
And the infinite illuminates

So I watch you,
I admire you,
and I’m grateful because that is all that is allowed.
And sometimes I howl,
and I miss you,
and I try to remember you because that is all that is allowed.


Most of us have no understanding or compassion towards how sensitive EVERYONE’S emotional states are after being locked down in houses gorging news, booze, and social media and it shows.

Let’s be aware that the majority of us, some more willing to admit than others, are dealing with some severe mental health degradation, phobias, addictions, and griefs not only as a result of this pandemic but just from being human in general. I think it’s time we slow down and give each other a mother fuckin’ break.

This broken foundation and state of fear and hurt that we are operating from is not conducive to progress and resolution when making choices, problem-solving, discoursing, and empathizing with one another. Yet, we continue to nitpick language over the intention, shame, cancel, end relationships, and draw lines in the sand to those that don’t mirror to our liking. You can get an innocent person to plead guilty to anything if you beat them hard and long enough but is that truth?

We are collectively becoming a species addicted to chaos, lacking patience, curiosity, listening skills, tolerance, and open hearts and I refuse to accept that.

COVID Sandwich

She scoffed at my gloves and mask as I walked through the door and when I was forced to check out of her line I prepared myself for her scolding.

“You know this is all a hoax right? They’re trying to turn this place into a fucking police state”

I continued unloading my things off my cart, “Yea who knows right?”

“What do you mean who knows? That’s the damn truth.” Her fury building, her exhaustion showing.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to see what happens right? Not much we can do at this point.”

She slammed my groceries into bags, “Yea let’s all sit back and let our rights be stripped out from under us like those fucking Chinese while you monkeys run around scared in masks and gloves.”

I sighed, “Can you take it easy with my fucking bread, you got it all smashed and I’m looking forward to a sandwich tonight. Also, I’m not interested in arguing with you lady, we are all wondering what the fuck is going on and none of us have the answers.”

She grabbed my bread and started punching her fist into it. Not surprised at all I watched her assault the one ingredient I needed to make the sandwich that was going to make this week feel seemingly easier. I felt the customers behind me becoming even more unsettled and ready to pounce at the blind opportunity to defend something so much bigger than my shitty bread.

The manager walked over horrified at the sight apologizing profusely and all I could think was how much we need to make mental health a priority in this shit country. All I could think about is how sad it is that we continue to point our fingers in the wrong directions. All I could think about was how I still needed to buy some damn bread for my delicious sandwich.

Social Media Break

Taking a break from social media. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and finally decided it was the right thing to do. I’ve taken small breaks here and there over the years but had convinced myself that I NEEDED it to further my writing career and stay up to date with friends and social/political causes. I’m not going to lie, it’s going to take some adjusting. As much as I love connecting with others from afar especially during these times, I was starting to notice how much more addictive it was becoming. I caught myself scrolling on Instagram one day while I wasn’t even looking at my phone, just my finger moving. It was fucking weird. After watching The Social Dilemma it reaffirmed my suspicions and made it clear that I need to put this HUGELY TIME-CONSUMING part of my life on pause. I don’t want to participate in any type of technology that can predict and control my emotions and actions. Fuck no.

Being an Empath also makes the social media experience extremely intense for me most times. It makes me irritable. I get submerged into everything and everyone and I have a hard time deciphering my own feelings. Watching friends post material opposite of what I know is going on internally got me feeling particularly turned off by the platforms. It’s too damn distracting and confusing for self-identity and self-assurance. The whole pretending to be someone you aren’t or that you wish you were for the likes of others can’t be healthy. Having our online identity be the main source of our dopamine rushes throughout the day is, of course, a major setup for disappointment, insecurity, addiction, and depression.

So much of what I see on social media is thriving off emotional triggers of an already emotionally exhausted and traumatized people and I just can’t get down with that. I can’t get down with watching people I know become more and more cynical and divided because they think their truth is more superior. Who the fuck are we to be battling others on something they have to discover themselves? Unfortunately, many people only care about social justice and human rights when it becomes personal to them. You can only do so much, people have to be curious, they have to WANT to change their views. The truth is, everyone is living in what they believe to be true to themselves, even if it seems crazy to someone else, it’s still true for them. It’s also worth mentioning that most people’s views have become radicalized by the way social media’s algorithms work anyway so it’s not as black and white as it seems when it comes to good vs evil, mask vs no mask, democrat vs republican.

If feels as though social media is slowly turning us into inflexible, intolerable, and impatient people. Where’s the room for growth in that? Exploring, accepting other views, ways, cultures is what’s supposed to make this experience more successful, colorful, and exciting. I refuse to put myself up against others any longer in this setting and I refuse to passively ingest this mess with very little outlets of real action. I figured it’s better to take it the fuck down a notch and center myself on what’s in front me. My community, my healing, my writing, my relationships, my empath writing workshops and retreats, too much to even state. I have to remember that what I bring to this life, my influence, my type of magic, is not meant to be wasted on social media. It’s also important to remember we can still be social and political activists and participants without having our every move be tracked, stored, manipulated, and controlled through an app.

So how many sunrises and sunsets have you missed while staring at your phone?


I would love to hear your thoughts and experiences on your relationship with social media.

Sunset in Oaxaca City

Get Some Rest

Hands raised,⁣⁣
No fight left in this particular battle,⁣⁣
Because you hide beneath the surface.⁣⁣
I’ve dulled knives digging,⁣⁣
Skinning myself like a rabbit,⁣⁣
Only to find flesh sensitive to wind and touch,⁣⁣
Still, you rear your vile head, ⁣⁣
Poisoning me and others.⁣⁣
I shun, I beg, ⁣⁣
I curse and rip your rotten roots but it’s too late⁣⁣
and back you go into your secret hiding place.⁣⁣
I have to reconcile, ⁣⁣
This time, all strategies exhausted,⁣⁣
I invited you to the dinner.⁣⁣
I let you take over and take me,⁣⁣
Smashing plates,⁣⁣
Spitting food and flipping tables.⁣⁣
Hijacked and to the edge of breathless peace in death,⁣⁣
You bored as a tired child does, ⁣⁣
Curling into my loving arms as I whispered,⁣⁣
“Now get some rest you relentless fuck.”⁣⁣

Photo by Hamish Weir on Unsplash