Dear James Pt. 2

Dear James, 

It’s been about a month. I thought I’d be over you leaving by now. Not completely, obviously, but I didn’t think the thought of you would still bring tears to my eyes. I listened to a song about death on the back of a motorbike in the rain. My tears blended perfectly into the world you’re no longer a part of. Last week my phone ran out of storage. I went to make some more room and saw our WhatsApp conversation was taking up some of the most space. I shouldn’t have clicked on our conversation. I had to leave my friends to cry like a little bitch. You probably would have made fun of me and then followed up with wise words to make me feel better like you used to. 

I’m afraid, James. Your death made me face that I too could leave before my time. Before my dreams and desires come to fruition. Before I manifest the goals that I feel are so close, yet so far. It taught me a lot though. Be so at peace with what I’ve created, that if I joined you today, wherever the fuck you are, I’d be happy with what I’ve done. To be fair, I am happy with what I’ve done, but feel like there’s so much more I need to do. I wanted some of those moments to be with you. 

I’m reminded by you constantly. This time last year, we were hanging out every day together. It’s rainy season. Remember how we got stuck in that down pour in the middle of nowhere and we had to pull over in some shed until it passed? Where was that? Phong Nha? Ninh Binh? You would know, but I don’t think I ever will.

I’ve seen a stupid amount of things on Facebook I’ve wanted to share with you. Should I send them anyways? Would you know I’m sending them? Do you know I’m writing this now? A sign would be pretty dope. You used to make fun of me for that kind of “slang”. Did you know that my catchphrase is “tragic” and all my friends know it? They don’t all know it’s because of you. 

I see the tchotchke you gave me every day. It hasn’t left my bedside table since I got it. That was so selfless of you. I wish I told you how much that meant to me. I have a gift I was planning to give you next time you visited. What should I do with it now? 

Now that you’re gone, I’m stuck with a lot of questions that can’t be answered. I’m forced to think more about the meaning of this thing called life, and to be honest, I don’t know what to make of it anymore. Life was better with you in it. I guess that’s the goal. To leave life making the world better having been a part of it. Rest in Paradise, James. 

Welcome To Hell

Welcome to Hell. You may be wondering where the hell Hell is. Earth? The White House? The person in the White House? A town? Some mystical fiery land that has a creepy red tenant with hooves? The answer is none of the above.

You’ve been living there your whole life, but let me be the first to welcome you. Welcome to the hell created by non other than you, your mind. 

Have you ever heard a little voice in your head bitch about wishing you had done something differently? Or question your self worth? If your answer is no, the little bitch in my head just told me you’re full of shit. That voice is the soundtrack in Hell, and the life you live will match the soundtrack you play. The more we positively change the tune, the happier hell will be.

Whether you consciously know it or not, you’re in Hell. You’ve done it to yourself, but here me out!! because understanding and acknowledging the hell you’ve created is such a critical step to improving your life and making it a little less hellish. 

 Don’t be afraid of Hell. Make peace with this place. It’s teaching us, and allowing us to grow. Plus, we’re going to be here a while, so might as well get comfortable while we work on our tunes. 

The TRIP of a Lifetime – The Journey to Lucidity Part 2

The day had finally arrived.  I jumped out of bed to shove some last minute essentials in my bag before heading to the festival, and felt a sense of pride to have been able to cram so much in one suitcase. After patiently waiting for Marissa to get up and ready, she made her way through the front door with a Bob Marley blanket draped over her shoulder. Looking cute in our festival attire, but in an “I woke up like this” kind of way, we crammed our bags in the trunk.

We arrived and I was happy to be there, but with the directions Darrin gave us to find his campsite, I was feeling like I was playing where’s Waldo, but was never told what Waldo was wearing. After walking back and forth under the blazing sun, we serendipitously came across a man who looked like a hybrid of a lumberjack and a backpacker. He introduced himself as Roman, and gave us both a big hug which would have been weird in the real world, but anything goes at festivals like these. After telling him our situation, he generously invited us to stay with him in his pimped out tent, and I accepted faster than I drive when I know I’m about to eat as soon as I get home. Before we headed out, he offered us some drugs. Having had no experience with them, and just publishing an article titled “Why I Go To Festivals Sober” I passed.

Though the fear of relapsing and the constant obsession over food was real, we had a great day full of music, laughter, dancing, exploring and naked photoshoots. The idea of doing shrooms danced around in my head, but I kept telling myself I wasn’t ready, which is what I had been telling myself for years. I realized there would never be a time where I felt ready. New experiences often come with uncertainty, and the time was now. I mentioned that to the girl next to me as we put our clothes back on after our naked photoshoot.

Next thing you know I’m back at her campsite, with Marissa, holding a warm cup of mushroom tea between my two hands. “Heal me, heal me, heal me.” I replayed that mantra in my mind and set that intention as I lifted the cup to meet my lips.

Having felt nothing after about 30 minutes, we decided to get up and walk around. Not long after, I felt like a hopeless romantic who is single on Valentines day. With fists clenched, and heavy steps, I felt like punching just about everyone in the face who was within arms reach. I glanced over at Marissa and her smile was as big as the hand that I wanted to smack her with. With wide eyes and a pep in her step, she requested to head over to a band and dance. I took a deep breath and told her I felt this energy in my chest and felt like it was about to explode. I said I was going back to the tent to cry, and she could meet me there in 20 minutes. Holding back my tears, I raced to the tent like I just heard someone yell “Free food!” which is too say I looked like a professional power walker.

I bolted inside the tent, lied down, and continued to feel the expansion of this energy in my chest grow. As it grew, so did the distain towards myself. “I can’t believe I’ve never been in love. Do I like not have a heart or something? I’m broken. I just don’t work like other people. Ugh, I’m so annoying. How do people stand me? I talk way too much. I’m so fat. Why can’t I eat like a normal person. I still don’t have my shit figured out. I can’t do anything on my own. I’m so stupid.” When I say I bawled my eyes out, thats an understatement. Well, I guess not considering my eyes didn’t actually come out, but you get the point.

Those 10 minutes felt like an eternity. Suddenly, I brought my awareness back to my body. I took a deep breath and began to say “This is okay, this is okay, I am okay.” I acknowledged that those were my thoughts, not me, and there was this larger part of me that wanted me to accept me and my thoughts as they are. It’s not like that was new news to me, but I was, for the first time, given such a profound opportunity to heal.

You see, there is this misconception that by focusing on the positive, and looking on the bright side, everything with get better. Though there is some truth to that, those results are short lived. Life gets better when your perception gets better, but you don’t heal unprocessed limiting beliefs that way. By truly feeling, acknowledging, and accepting my biggest limiting beliefs, the process of healing can begin.

I didn’t leave Lucidity feeling like a new person. In fact, I was pissed that I didn’t feel the “one love” or whatever the hell they say, but that’s not what I asked for. I wanted to heal, and that’s what I got. For those following this blog/my story, it should be no surprise that the following month I met Allie, and also signed up for Yoga Training. I believe that incident allowed me to let go of enough resistance for me to be more receptive to what is in my best interest. Now, I’m not saying go and do shrooms, but I am saying don’t be afraid to feel the pain, for it’s through the pain where you can find your way to peace.