Wise Mountains


If you place yourself in the mountains during the rarest, most golden fall; you must not forget that the seasons change and that winter comes. And yet, nothing can defy the everlasting beauty. No matter the season, you must learn to appreciate the mountains for all they are: for the herds of baby elk crossing the highway, for the frozen lake, for the winter sports you see others participating in but you don’t, for the snowplow pileup that causes inconvenience to you when it happens to bury your car and you must dig it out.

I acknowledge that’s what I’ve been doing with much of my time here: digging myself out of polluted snow pileup that has built upon me since childhood. Here, I am referring to self worth and being worthy of stepping into my own power and my own truth safely. I am in a supported landscape if nothing else; being surrounded by mountains gives a slight cushion. It provides a feeling of disappearing into my personal winter and eternal change without anyone to interfere- though this does become a lonely stage.

I’ve allowed my fears and worries to evaporate and become absorbed by the pines. It’s reinventing myself while finally breathing air with ease. Though I’ve believed I deserve to achieve all my desires after less than three months of living here, I must also acknowledge that I’ve been overcoming things I could never have overcome living elsewhere- and I’ve done all of this myself without any consultation. I’ve managed to resolve my sinus inflammation and shallow breathing, which gives me much clearer direction and clarity into all aspects of my life. I’ve been able to control compulsive and irregular eating habits, simultaneously managing millions of food sensitivities and maintaining a vegan (with eggs) diet. I’ve overcome fatigue and exhaustion through diet and spiritual cleansing, giving me boundless energy no matter how long the day is.

The mountains are fearless, courageous, confident, and bold. Some of this energy has rubbed off on me, and I breathe to simply become part of my surroundings. It has changed the structure of my brain- waking up to pines nestled under golden sunlight every morning greatly affects all areas of the brain. It has changed the sound of the music I make, it has changed my name, it has changed my perspective of myself and it has changed my heart. Perhaps my heart is another organism I’ve been digging out of a snowplow pileup. I never did lose myself; it was only my heart that disappeared from my body for awhile and has now come to surface.

Things surface and you must confront them if it’s somehow meaningful to you. The Plains may not be a safe place to do this, but the mountains always are. And of my list of intentions I came up with when I pulled my destination out of a box, I have accomplished seven, all of which I didn’t have three months ago! I have established my intuitive community, become acquainted with Bear Creek and its endless magic, found reiki support, a few people to play music and sing with, freedom of expression through the throat chakra, controlling my health, and being surrounded by genuinely happy people.

I’ve been asking questions and searching for answers everywhere, only to come to the epiphany that something, somewhere, will always answer you back.. but sometimes, the answer doesn’t come in the shape or form you expect. However, when you’re really listening, you will always receive an answer– and you should always follow through with whatever you are currently being given, otherwise your life may remain stagnant in a similar state of suffering. I’m seeing now that my answers are coming to surface sooner than I would have even asked, and that it is fulfilling enough to know that I am being heard by someone as I am guided towards constant support.

The mountains are mysterious in this way; it is a feeling that you are closer to communion with spirits of any good kind. And although sometimes you may not love the answers you are seeking, you must love the mountains for their constant support and guidance and inner wisdom.



Abstract Essays, Small Miracles

A.k.a. “How I feel about writing”.

The power of words is timelessly underrated. The consequences of words we have handwritten late at night because we couldn’t contain them any longer have become the bases of our own lives’ mysteries. Words in letters we write to people within the realms of our minds–and never send– somehow have to capability to be transported straight into the receiver’s soul so that our words never go to waste after all. Words that we have written long ago, forgot about, then thought so much of later and put so much hope into them have become realities because some great spirit heard them and let them radiate across the universe.

Once the mind is free of constraint, God only knows what it is capable of. We have shoveled through topics that are supposed to make sense to us but have no meaning in real life. We have all been captives in some way or another…

But when we write, our souls are freed.

When I write, miracles are formed and released at a time only right according to the universe.

There is something magical about writing with my own hand. The words spill out onto the paper in front of me, and later I gape at them in astonishment, wondering where they came from. How can ink hold such lovely memories, such abstract dreams, and reveal what is hidden within the depths of my soul? This ink forces me to see what lies inside of me—it forces me to understand the reality of my self and others.

Most often, I explore lives and places unknown to me through the process of swirling blue ink across white paper between two thin blue lines. This happens subconsciously, and it is my thoughts becoming something existent. They are no longer hidden; they are swirled blue ink obvious to the naked eye.

And now my words shall be rewritten in electro-black ink, visible not only to myself but to you.