We're here in the month of May, 2026, and frankly, the time, day of the week, month, nor the season seem to have registered with me. I feel like I'm in a free-for-all freefall. I've no concept or even vision of where I'm headed.... It's a big void, with my old reality and all its old systems collapsing around me. Nothing seems to work like it should. And when we think we're going to do a bit of maintenance--well, one small-appearing thing to fix turns into an over-whelming mountain.... Absolutely every aspect of life has changed. The old is falling apart into ruins, and I know it's supposed to happen so as to make room for the new quantum reality. Where I'm aware that I'm the actual creator of all I perceive.
I know I signed up for this. To be here at this time. To bridge into the new consciousness world. But my Human Facet doesn't know what to expect--none of it looks like the past realities I experienced, so I'm just hanging here, dangling.... and my eyes don't like looking at my smartphone, this computer or reading much of anything....
I'm thinking many of my fellow beloved human beings must be experiencing similar types of situations and feelings, so here I sit trying to learn how to use a laptop to write a post on this blog of mine. Lately, everything in life seems to have a learning curve, and I have an attention span less than equal to that of even a gnat....but here goes....
At the beginning of 2025, I took part in a Crimson Circle shoud where Adamus St. Germain talked about the massive amount of change humanity was going to go through in a relatively short span of time, and that the year 2025 was ushering it in full force. He offered this comforting thought at the time: "If you know that it's all going to turn out okay in the end, will that help you to relax a little bit while in the midst of all the changes?"
Yeah--I've been hanging onto that like someone who's tumbling off a cliff and has grabbed a twig growing out of the ground in a last-ditch effort to keep herself from crashing to the ground and ending it all--splat! If I wrote a song about this it would fit the poor-boy country western genre, where the guy's woman dumps him, he's living in his beat-up pickup truck, bellied up to the bar, bawling his eyes out, while sucking down beer after beer with whiskey chasers. And, to top it all off, his dog dies.
Okay--that's an exaggeration on my part. It hasn't been quite that bad for me. I still have my best friend husband with me and we have a roof over our heads and the necessities, etc. Frankly, as I write this I'm wondering what I'm so down-in-the-mouth about. But, we did lose a pet cat, and that was the hardest part of all.
I won't bore you with my troubled story. I'm sure you have your own. And commiseration gets us nowhere but down in the pits.
I'm writing this because, regardless of all the frustrations, heartaches, grief, moments of depression, and wondering where I went wrong--well, I find I still have hope. Self-Doubt rears its head from time to time and tries to run me, often in the form of worrying for a moment about a choice I've made, but I'm getting good at kicking it to the curb and instead reassuring my human self that I love and appreciate her. And that there really is no such thing as a "wrong" choice. That it will all work out and will do so sooner if I just let go and quit moaning and worrying over it.
I remind myself that it's taken a lot of guts to be human, especially when I did stuff I wish I hadn't done. Most, if not all of it, because I didn't remember who I really was and I only had a very narrow view of the whole picture.
We do a lot of dark stuff when we feel stuck and cornered, attacked, afraid--it's that old Survival of the Fittest consciousness, which was just an extremely narrow awareness of who we are. It wasn't that we were all inherently bad--just very limited in our awareness, playing an often harrowing game of Blind Man's Bluff.
We didn't know we each were the sole creator of the realities we experienced. We didn't know that the situations we drew to ourselves were based on suggestions we'd each made our own truths, that were then built up by our own field of energies in service to ourselves. I'm finally really grasping the courage it took to plant oneself in a human costume in order to more fully understand who I am and my creations and how I'm getting the spectrum of experiences I find myself in. Pretty amazing gifts we human beings are....
I stopped writing on purpose for awhile. I felt the need to just live out and experience, without commentary for anyone else, this whole chaotic mess of massive change where everything falls apart and goes brand new. Where absolutely nothing stays the same--especially the old identity I had built up over these many lifetimes. I felt like I was in the midst of an avalanche for awhile--bombarded, numb, exhausted, flailing in the wind. At times I didn't want to wake up to another day.... I didn't feel like much of a master....
But eventually I got myself taking more and more good deep breaths and allowed myself to be Imperfect Human, to relax and let it be easy, let it flow. At times, admittedly, reminding myself to stop and breathe seemed all I could remember to do.
Morning cappuccinos in the quiet with my soul and our two remaining cats helped, along with walks in nature when the opportunity presented itself. Later, after remembering to let go of everything with a deep breath and returning into the feeling of simply being a pinpoint of conscious awareness that I existed, I began stepping back out of the troubling stories I had going. I stepped off the stage and into the audience (my soul) which had a broader view of the whole production. I let the whole works go of trying to figure my life out. I knew that if it was in my life--well, I alone put it there. I was the one that made that particular stone in my shoe my truth of the moment, and only I alone could let it go, un-create it.... make it no longer MATTER.... So I let go, and let my soul take over completely--I surrendered....
Such a simple thing to do really, but I had to tell my human mind who kept wanting to hang onto its stories--often victimy ones--to just plain hush up.
One of my beloved helpers, our Bella kitty, died the 7th of February after several months of losing weight, throwing up, ear infection. My husband was gone most of last year, remodeling a house for his mom and aunt to move into. I stayed home in order to take care of our cats, to keep Bella--all of us, actually--as healthy as I could. To keep our energies flowing smoothly.
Belle had had a couple episodes of stroke-like symptoms in the late summer and fall, but she came out of them and the vet didn't find anything in her bloodwork to show it had even happened. At the beginning of January, after finally realizing that she was scratching her ears raw and shaking her head due to an ear infection, I called my sister to ask about a homeopathic remedy she could recommend. In a matter of a couple of weeks we had cleared her of the infection. She had gained strength and vigor and was chatting with me, no longer hugging the furnace vent, something that had previously been going on for months.
I was amazed at the outcome when I used consciousness and the body pendulum as an intuitive tool to help me choose the homeopathic remedy I needed to give her in the moment at hand. By the end, I was intuitively grabbing the remedy that came to mind, and would discover it addressed the situation perfectly. I had on hand everything that was needed when it was needed. Even to make her more comfortable as she slowly left her body.
The day after my husband returned home to us, when he'd completed enough of the house for his mom to move into it (his aunt was hospitalized at the time), we woke up to a mess of urine and poo all over. Belle had regressed. We realized she had been waiting for him.... a week later she was gone....
We both realized we were never meant to fix her. She was going to cross over--and painful as that was, I recognized that she was meant to be on the other side as my Spirit Anchor. And that our remaining two were the Bridge (I call Tiff my Grand Little Ampersand) and the Earth Anchor (my Beloved Gift of Gracie).
I confided with my husband that I found myself calling Bella by the name Molly--one of our first cats. And he said he was doing the same thing. I actually wrote about her death in a post back in 2010 entitled, "My Awakening." Heartbreaking as it was to lose her, I let her go in order to make room for her to return to me in a grander way.
I had heard that our pets reincarnate and do so not necessarily as the same gender or species. That we were to look into the eyes of baby pets and we would recognize them. I had so many dreams of searching for both Molly and her brother, Max, after they'd crossed over--it would be a sea of golden and white tabbies or black and white cats, but they were never my Molly or Max upon closer inspection.
Well, in hindsight, Bella looked me right in the eye as she climbed into my lap when my husband first brought her home. She did the same with him shortly before she died. And right before she took her last breath as she lay in the basket beside me, she kneaded with all four paws like she did only with me. It was our thing....
So Molly (aka, Bella) and Max (now Gracie) had been with us the whole time with Tiff as the grand connector.... I can see it so clearly now in light of the relationships the cats had with each other, as well as the two of us.
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And so, I'm on a bridge--a good secure one, even though it seems to toss about every which way--and I have two strong anchors at each end. It's going to turn out all right--I'm choosing to let it. I'm letting go and letting my soul imagine my way through this. I'm taking pressure off this beloved human to perform or fix or figure any of it out. This stuff is way out of her league. Her job is just to experience what comes naturally.... Just let it--me--be....
and that was so worth waking up for this morning....
Blessings, my beloveds, always....
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