Yesterday, I was out with a friend and said to her, “Today feels like Sunday already.” I’ve been thinking about why I feel that way. Time has been moving extra slow this month. Lately, the water has been calling my soul. So I made it out to the beach. When I get the calling, I try to follow it right away because that’s how I receive clues for the next steps.
It’s incredible what being in and near the water does to me. A change of scenery is always powerful and effective, as long as it’s different from my norm. But water, it does something special to me. It creates a flow when things are stagnant. It helps me connect the dots. It gives me a sense of purification and renewal, preparing me to welcome new things into my life. Oftentimes, something unexpected happens to me after being healed by the water.
Back to the question. Why does time seem to pass so slowly? I was hoping this month would be a fun, hot girl summer. It hasn’t been. Instead, it’s been a month of healing, journaling, detoxing, decluttering, synchronicities, vivid visions, sudden downloads, and soulful encounters. Like god damn. I had many sleepless nights this month. It sucks because sleep is crucial for well-being. I need a good night’s sleep to balance and nurture my big energy.
I was thinking about all of this as I lay on the rocks. Luckily, two of my greatest mentors were with me. Rocks and water. I started feeling softer and more open. Maybe my guides are telling me to slow down and notice every single thing I’m experiencing. Maybe I really do have everything I need to do things differently this time. I closed my eyes and looked right into the sun. I love that intense momentary blindness.
I’m embodying my confidence. This confidence I feel is earned. It is cultivated and cared for. I’ve worked hard and stayed consistent with my practice on and off the mat. Tapping inward, facing my shadows, actively being mindful and present, and taking action to level up every day in all aspects, in my unique ways.
Eventually, all the silent work pays off. My body is beautiful, strong, and flexible. My skin and hair glow. My aura is soft, and my backbone is solid. My nervous system is relaxed. My energy is big and warm. Wherever I go, whoever I meet, I’ll always maintain my rhythm and pace.
I’m human. I have days and moments of doubt, angst, and sadness. But now, I know what to do when the emotional waves come. I know myself better. Rather than running away from the emotions, I dive right in and flow with them. Discomfort is okay.
No one can take this away from me. The confidence that comes from within. Even if I lost all of my material belongings, “I” will always be here. This is what I always wanted. Now that I have it, I expect my outer world to match my inner glow-up.
Hurt women raise men who then hurt the very women who are capable of healing them. The women finally awaken and find love within themselves. The world needs more women like that. Only such women can heal men.
I've become more accepting of bad days. I understand that not every day and every moment can be fun and uplifting. The darkness can come and go, and I embrace it. I feel it and seek meaning in it. I use it to fuel my creativity and productivity. I let it be what it is. I have faith that better days will come again. I am trusting of myself, the timing, and the universe. I really like how I’m feeling these days. I’m so glad and thankful I get to feel this way.
Whether you are dealing with a partner, colleagues, family members, or friends, we create harmonious relationships when we know ourselves better. To achieve that, we must look inward and learn to listen to ourselves. Only when we are intimate with ourselves can we achieve intimacy with others around us.
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I believe we, dyslexic people, are creators.
The universe intentionally made it difficult for us to learn from existing content so that we can create something new.
Traditional learning is hard for me.
A large amount of text is daunting and overwhelming for me to read and process, unless I have a personal association and resonance with the subject.
I rarely watch movies.
It takes up too much of my energy.
It’s almost impossible for me to sing along to songs.
I didn’t write the words.
I don’t like templates.
It’s annoying how I have to create pretty much everything from scratch.
I have a hard time remembering tangible details.
This painting of mine is a great example of how I associate people, places, and things with smells, textures, colors, lighting, and feelings.
I express my inner world through creative expressions.
I observe, listen, experience, and make mistakes in real life to earn lessons and knowledge.
I cross the line to know where it is.
I have my own way of seeing and learning.
I wish I could tell my 12-year-old self it’s okay to be unconventional.
In fact, it’s more than okay.
It’s awesome.
My life hit rock bottom a few years ago. In a short time, I experienced COVID, burnout from a long-term career, separation then divorce from an even longer relationship, being blamed for the divorce by my own family who live thousands of miles away, serious health decline caused by malnutrition, and strange autoimmune symptoms. It was like walking through an endlessly dark and gnarly tunnel without a lamp or guide. And for the most part, I went through it alone. I’ve always been an optimist. That’s my natural state. But during the dark tunnel phase, optimism felt too shiny even for me.
At the beginning of my awakening, I was introduced to frequency music to soothe my anxiety. Back then, I was so broken and fragile that I was willing to try anything to feel better. I’d play the music on the speaker, on my noise-cancelling headphones, in my car, and in my sleep. I would start a 10-hour sound healing video on YouTube when I go to bed and wake up to the music. A few days into the routine, I started feeling noticeably lighter. I couldn’t believe it. Since then, sound healing has been a major part of my life. If you think about it, we are all energy. That means we are all frequencies. It only makes sense that when we find the sound in resonance with our energy, we heal.
This morning, I woke up in tears. I’d already been crying in my dream.
In the dream, I was sitting across from my family at a long table, lined with crisp white linen. Me on one side, them on the other side. It felt like me against them. We were in a dining car on a train. The train was running along the coast. Outside the train was a beautiful, peaceful scene. Inside the train, my family was shouting at me. They were saying harsh, heartless things to me, just as they sometimes used to do in the waking life. They took out hefty cooking knives. One by one, they started throwing them at me. “You are crazy!” I shouted at them as I kept dodging the knives in the air. They continued to throw more knives at me. I begged them to stop, but they weren’t listening. They were too busy throwing knives at me.
When I woke up, I felt just… incredibly sad. I was coming to terms with the hurt I felt all my life. I carried their emotional burden on my shoulders. I tolerated their projected pain and anger. These are the things I kept brushing off growing up because I didn’t want to see my family as villains, and I somehow thought I deserved such treatment.
The other day, I heard someone say that most of us don’t hurt each other on purpose. I felt that. My family didn’t intend to hurt me, I’m sure, or I hope. But the damage was made in me. Words were said to me. The dream forced me to relive and feel all those difficult emotions that I didn’t get to accept and feel when I first experienced them. This time, I knew I wasn’t responsible for their emotions. This time, I wasn’t going to protect their feelings over my own.
I stayed in bed for a while to process the dream. I felt more tears in my eyes. I cried a bit more.
