Snowflakes, Unicorns and Angels

Lately I’ve been feeling like something is missing but I can’t pinpoint exactly what. It’s not exactly a lack of inspiration, but it’s a need for a stronger connection to my higher power, Spirit, or God, or whatever you want to call this energy source that’s stronger than my human power, or any human power. So every day I’ve been meditating, finally, for the first time, and I hope I can keep it up, especially after the semester starts. It will be my second to last semester in grad school for nutrition, and I’ll be starting clinic, meaning in a few weeks I’ll be working directly with clients on their nutrition needs, and I do not feel at all prepared.

It’s important for me to find meaning in life. Everything has meaning – we just don’t always know what that meaning is. For example, I don’t know what the meaning of me spending four months with a guy who I had zero interest in other than physically, and even then, the attraction was surface-level. Maybe it was just to say looks aren’t everything. And after that I had a brief stint as a “unicorn,” in which I was the third in two different couples’ threesomes, at their request. I just re-read that last sentence and it makes me lol. It is hilarious, so feel free to laugh. I’ve always been experimental, for whatever reason. It would’ve been fun to continue, though perhaps not necessarily emotionally healthy, especially with the one particular couple who I really connected with on more than a physical level. And there are still other experiences I want to try. But it’s not meant to be at this point in time, because soon after my unicorn stint I met my current boyfriend, who is a wonderful man.

This wonderful man I’ll call Mac, short for Matthew McConaughey because he’s a good-looking Southern guy, and he’s actually old enough to be my father. Matthew McConaughey is probably only about five or 10 years older than me, but you get the gist. Anyway, I have so much fun with Mac and we have tons in common, but that extra spark is just… not there. It’s not that there’s no chemistry, because there is. Almost everything lines up perfectly except for that one thing I can’t put my finger on. There are only two things I can think of that really bother me, and one is that he has terrible table manners, and the other is that I am dying to have my own space.

My soul yearns for my own home, and it feels like forever before that will happen. Even though I graduate in August, which still seems a long time from now, I won’t be a certified nutritionist in the state of Maryland until after I get 700 more clinic hours, and that could take another year. It’s so expensive to live in this area I have doubts that I’ll be able to get my own place during that time. After I get all of those hours and become certified, my certification will be useless in certain states, where you don’t even need a certification to practice as a nutritionist. Now that I’ve decided it’s unlikely I’ll stay in Maryland due to the high cost of living, all this money I just borrowed for grad school is starting to feel like a waste. And that’s exactly what happened to me after I graduated from my first grad school after which I got a useless master’s degree in creative writing. That being said, I want to move away from negative thinking, and exercise the law of attraction, and manifest more positivity in my life. Maybe I’ll come back to that one day. Maybe it’ll come in handy, and I’ll become the writer that I always wanted to be, that I already am.

My latest thing is opening myself up to the messages that the universe/multiverse or spirit guides have for me. Last night a woman came into the store to return all of her items so that she could buy them back on her membership discount, because she’d forgotten to give her membership card at checkout. The old me would’ve been really annoyed and judged her for not having her shit together, and for the cashier for not remembering to ask for her card, but last night was different. We all forget things, especially me. Is that so bad? What stood out to me was that she noticed that her total came out to $123.41, and she took a picture of it, saying that she saw numbers like that all the time. So we talked about numbers and signs while my co-worker, who probably thought we were nuts, returned her merchandise. The same kinds of things have been happening to me. When I was driving to work, I looked up and saw 1010 on a mailbox. I was born at 10:10am. The other night I awoke at 4:44am, and later that same day when I looked at the time, it was 4:44pm. One could argue that I look at the clock and street signs hundreds of other times and all those times I don’t see repeating or chronological numbers, and that’s true. But I choose to believe they’re signs from angels and I find this a comfort. This morning I was listening to Ashley Wood’s Manifest This podcast and in an interview with Jenna Zoe she mentioned how we are each snowflakes, that we’re each unique, but when you throw us all into a pile of snow we’re not so different, or you can’t tell that we’re so different. Jenna Zoe said that her best friend had just said the same thing to her earlier that day, and maybe a minute or two later, as I was cleaning out my closet I pulled out some jewelry that had belonged to my mom, or had been given to me by either her or my grandma, and right on top was a snowflake broach. Are all these events really just coincidence?

One of the loudest messages I’ve been hearing is just that everyone has their own journey. This is something I knew intellectually, but in my heart and soul I wasn’t accepting it. For example, my dad, who is a dry drunk, was recently abandoned by his bipolar, drug-addicted wife, which at first seemed like the best thing for him. As always, I had a hope that he’d change his life, maybe move to the beach and find God. But nope. The wife has regained her senses and is weaseling her way back into my dad’s life. And maybe that is what’s best for him, for them. It’s not for me to say. It makes me sad to see that’s their journey because they seem so spiritually sick and oblivious. But who am I to judge?

Getting back to the woman who came to me in the store, her name was the same as a famous female musician, which I won’t write here to protect her anonymity. She told me that she had gotten chills a couple of times throughout the conversation, and I ended up telling her my mom had passed two years ago. She almost started crying, and she took my hand and squeezed it, saying my mom is all around me, that she loves me so much. I have another friend like this, who would come into my work from time to time, an older woman who I know from AA. After Mom died she would come into my work and while we were talking she’d say, I have chills! That’s your mom. She’d tell me all the time that my mom was there with me, that angels are all around us. I believed that she believed it, and maybe that’s what gave her chills, and I didn’t not believe my mom wasn’t with me, but at the same time I’ve always been skeptical. Something’s happening, and I don’t know what it is, nor do I know if anyone else knows. But it’s there and we can choose to believe it or not.

I think I’ll go ahead and choose to believe it.

Peace, love, and namaste,



Isolation and Connection

There’s this scene in a movie I saw years ago—I believe it was “The Deer Hunter” or “Apocalypse Now”—in which the main character is sitting at the dinner table surrounded by family who’s all going about their business as though everything is normal, and the camera zooms in on his face, so that you can see that he’s a million miles away in his mind. It’s near the end of the movie, and the viewers know he’s just been through the atrocities of war—I think it’s the Vietnam War—but no one else knows what he’s been through. That is how I felt last night surrounded by my friends, who are really just acquaintances. Not that I don’t have friends, but these aren’t really them. They aren’t bad people, and I can’t quite put my finger on why, but I just don’t connect with them. Something about how much younger they are, and maybe their lack of intensity. I’d just gotten finished telling them about my mom dying, and a few of them went on to complain about their mothers. Granted, one of them has a mother who’s an active alcoholic, and I know how challenging it can be to have a real relationship with someone like that, and I don’t know the background of the others’ moms. Also, my mother was special, and our relationship was special. She gave birth to me; she gave me life. She showed me unconditional love. She’s the only one who cared about all of my victories and losses, no matter how big or small. Right now she’d be saying I’m putting her on a pedestal and that everyone does that when someone dies but that we must remember the person was human and fallible, and not a saint. Regardless, my capacity to love her and be loved by her is limitless.

It pissed me off, the way the others complained about their mothers, how my profound words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. I’m being facetious; I felt that my words came out in clichés about the preciousness of time and the value of expression of love with our loved ones. The reality is that experience is the only teacher, and the others can’t know what I’m going through without going through it themselves. No one wants to think about the possibility of their mother dying suddenly, or at all. Death is a taboo subject in our culture in spite of the fact that everyone dies, and everyone has loved ones who will die sooner or later. In a way I felt morally superior by this experience that’s teaching me hard life lessons, that’s put me in this club of which no one wants to become a member. But by definition feeling morally superior to others means I’m not being humble or truly growing spiritually.

The problem I’m encountering is that I want excessive amounts of time alone, yet I want to connect with others on a deeper, more meaningful level, and that just cannot happen without spending time with people. It seems that any time I spend with most people feels wasted, as in the situation last night. If only there were some way to find like-minded individuals who appreciate real conversations about life and death; I can’t bear to hear about the petty ankle-biters of financial insecurity (as if this hasn’t plagued me most of my life) or lack of time in the day (again, story of my life) or how annoying a co-worker is, how frustrating a family member is, how a deadline was missed, a test was failed, some other person failed to come through, a brand new item of clothing was ruined… the stuff of everyday life. It’s just boring. It makes me think of this song by Simon and Garfunkel, a favorite song of my father’s which I grew up listening to, which I believe is about the end of a relationship, and about isolation.

The song is also about all the things that go unsaid. Yet these are the conversations of everyday life. Mom would’ve listened to all the petty problems, and offered solutions. She’d have thought about it and called you later with more solutions. On the other hand, she talked about politics and what’s going on in the world, and she spent time giving back to the community by providing food to those in need. My goal is to get outside of myself and do the same.