On Wednesday August 30th, we have a Blue Super Moon in Pisces (meaning it’s the second full moon in a month, the closest the moon will be to earth until 2037, at only 222,000 miles from our planet), while Mercury, Venus, Saturn, Neptune, Uranus, and Pluto are all in retrograde.
What does all this mean?
According to the ethers / astrology / the angels, it means a time of very heightened emotionality and self-honesty, where old identities, wounds, successes, misses, and projects are brought to fruition and we evaluate what’s real, vs. illusion (or at times, delusion) regarding how we view the world and our place in it.
In other words—are we blowing smoke up our own keisters, just to keep our view of the “clouds” consistent? Or are we willing to see a blue sky once in awhile?
Are we clinging to a reality that only exists in our heads, and nowhere else? And is that reality “controlled” by our unwillingness to factor in beautiful opportunity and change that’s comes to us? Or, are we willing to allow external factors into our narrow view, so that our outcomes and ideologies may be evolve, change, expand and grow?
This is a time for unique action outside the box; a time for “asks” that would normal scare us.To be courageous enough to claim what is ours, and to walk away from jobs, partnerships, and situations that are no longer feeding who we’re becoming.
And, to walk into the murky Neptunian unknown, where the eyes don’t work as well as the “feels”, and the sixth sense is your guide—where the dreamworld in its highest form for our highest good has room to take form, though it may look completely different than how we thought it would.
This is a time to both reach for the dreams we believe are ours to engage, and to FLOAT on the cosmic tide, to see where the universal current is taking us, rather than raging against the current to chart our own course at all costs.
This takes the act of being present; to enact a balancing act of faith and action; goals and humility; flexibility and drive.
Vision, and willingness.
The ginormous super moon in Pisces (whose ruler is watery and Psychic Neptune) will ask all of us to get deeply in touch with our sense of purpose, and our sense of being real. Not what we wish was real, not the rose-colored-glasses-real—yet what is truly presenting itself. It will ask us:
Is this what you want? And do you have the courage to activate those timelines? Or will you simply wish it all away for another day, bathing in an illusion (or delusion) of “reasons” you’ll never “reach” what you want?
This blue super moon will force us to look into the mirror, and truly admit to ourselves what we believe is possible, and what isn’t possible. There are no wrong answers here. There is only honoring where we are at, where we place our own goals and limitations.
This timeframe brings about enormous jumps forward in karmic life path placements—the big stuff—while demanding we sort through the small stuff. And with Mercury in retrograde, communication with yourself may be cloudy—you may not be able to understand what you need or want.
This can create fussiness which may be misdirected at a loved-one or partner. It may also create jealousy—the illusion that we’ll never have something that someone else has; or, create ambivalence in making decisions on life path direction, which may lead to resentment toward those who are very self-directed.
Instead of comparison with others, enact GRACE for the self, for the human process of being in the now, and working through the small pieces of our larger picture. This is where mystical Neptune comes in, asking you to FEEL your way through an unseeable future.
This is a time of great trust, creativity, co-created patience, gratitude, gratitude, and more gratitude in our lives for what’s working, and developing the ability to accept miracles in our everyday lives.
In the dream world, we create unlimited outcomes that are crushed beneath laziness and forced action.
Six retrogrades force us to slow down and evaluate the mile marker we’ve just passed: are we going in circles?
On the Jason Aldean song debacle—I personally really like my Weird Al version I penned to break the awkward tension of this tune’s affect on the USA, entitled “Try that in a Ball Gown”, inspired by a Glenda-the-Good-Witch style meme—but I digress.
I live in the rural state of Montana. We are the fourth largest state in the union, with a population of barely over 1 million people. We are a state predominantly made up of small towns. I live in the state’s largest city of Billings, which has a population of 160,000, if we factor in the outlying areas.
Montana operates most widely on a Libertarian belief system, regardless of which party one casts their vote: work hard. Pull your weight in society. Be kind and courteous and give others room to be who they are, as long as they aren’t victimizing neighbors or taking their half out of the middle. Be law-abiding, but don’t put too many frivolous laws in place. We are the “Live and Let Live” state.
This is shocking to folks who move here, thinking that it’s going to be a narrow-focused, heavily religious, MAGA-owned, one-note extreme conservative steamroller, based upon Trump winning here by 20 points in 2020.
Montana could not be further from that stereotype. We’re not the Bible Belt. People’s faith is their own business. And so are our politics.
Thanks to the American propaganda machine, which Jason Aldean has now become part of, this ridiculous ideology persists.
Kurt Allison, Tully Kennedy, Kelley Lovelace and Neil Thrasher wrote “Try That in a Small Town”. As a songwriter myself, my feeling is that it’s a pretty terrible song. I’m not trying to grind an axe—believe me, I’ve written plenty of stinkers in my time. Yet they were never recorded by a major label artist. Even Aldean’s label-mates have come out and called it “bad songwriting”. Yet Aldean chose to sing it. And coupled with an awful video, Aldean will be the one to pay for his choices in participating with this messaging.
The lyrics to the song are pretty trite and stereotypical, not much of a biggie: no carjacking old ladies, no stomping on flags, no yelling at cops, don’t take my gun, bla bla, the usual god-and-country tropes drawing a second-grade sketch of “right and wrong” — but it’s the video that is horrific.
Whoever made that video very consciously put Aldean singing on the steps of a courthouse where infamous lynchings of black people took place. And all the riot footage—just, wow. It’s a propoganda piece that’s pretty blatant, no matter what your system of belief is.
Jason Aldean is claiming he didn’t know about the steps and the stock riot footage in the video; maybe he did or maybe he didn’t. But too bad—that’s on his brand now.
What I’m seeing happen because of that horrible video, in my social media feeds, is just more division.
And that was the song’s purpose, apparently —more on that in a minute.
In my feed I now see there are a lot of people hacking on small towns themselves rather than Aldean’s song—calling them bigoted, dangerous, trashy, many other things. Maybe that’s their experience of them.
Yet the thing that makes me the most sad about this mediocre trope of a song (sorry Aldean, it’s an anthem to being overly “on-point”) is that it’s now creating the Slick Violent City Folk vs Wholesome Vigilante Small Town folk vibe—as it’s designed to do.
As ALL propaganda is designed to do.
It’s just more division, more stereotypes, where the song had SUCH an opportunity to spotlight the BEST in caring for one another.
We’ve been groomed as a nation since FOREVER to pick a side and stereotype and generalize, and hate that other side, and this trait has become particularly nauseating since 2017; it’s been a real nightmare to watch, if you work in consciousness, this whole “you are or you aren’t” mentality. As if the binary existence, in ANY way, is human.
So on the small town note, thanks to Aldean’s songwriting team’s 4th-grade lyrical weaving—(not gonna give them a pass there):
My experience with small towns in Montana is very positive. I know there are some tougher ones out there in Montana, and I haven’t ventured to those — just as I haven’t ventured to dangerous inner-city places either. I also know I’m white. Though I may be gay, “white” trumps “gay” in the bigot’s handbook, so I’m likely not going to experience the same garbage my BIPOC pals would. No matter how gay-gitty-gay-gay I am.
However, I personally know black gay people in small towns that are dearly loved, and trans people in small towns that are beloved members of the community. Because in MOST small towns, every person matters to the social ecosystem of the town. At least in our Montana small towns. I understand other states’ cultures differ.
I like small towns A LOT, because everybody can be their own brand of weirdo. Nobody cares who you are in a small town; just be kind, respectful, and give people room to be human. And the bitties who do care are generally eye-rolled by the rest of the town—politely. Because there is a grace in a small town.
This grace is a form of general acceptance, because you’re not anonymous, and everybody has to live with one another. There’s no anonymous hatred in a small town; if you’re going to be hateful, it’s on you and everybody knows who you are, what you said, and what you did. Your consequences are not washed into population density.
Are there towns full of possies of hateful people? Sure. And there are gangs of hateful people in large city? Yes. Hate seems to be population-blind.
Yet the overt propoganda piece that this song was turned into by the label, really ruined an opportunity for Aldean to sing about caring for one another; about looking out for your neighbor; about having respect for those you cohabitate with, a respect for community, and respect for your nation.
You’re no Dolly Parton, Jason.
Even though I find the lyrics to be sadly obvious, and propagating the type of the ignorant small town white guy who thinks they’re “gonna take his granddaddy’s gun” (OHHHH my god, the eye roll emoji JUST isn’t big enough right here, and if I were a white rural male, I’d be pissed at the Bubba analogy, but I digress 🙄)— I blew off the stereotypes in this tune to try and find the “caring for one another” aspect of the song that I could relate with, hanging out in small Montana towns. When the song would come on, I’d sing it (sort of) substituting in my mind “we care for one another” in my consciousness, while ignoring some of the Bubba lyrics. Because that’s my experience of a small town.
But then—the video.
Wow.
The video kicked the nail through the coffin of the obvious, and the benefit of the doubt that I was TRYING to give the tune while inserting my own experience of sweet small Montana community— fell apart.
This song was meant to be exactly what it is being interpreted as—a dog whistle, a white rural bigoted male progopganda piece; City people are violent, multiracial, and non-patriotic. Small town people are righteous, white, and exact violence only when caring for another.
That’s the video.
Aldean’s song —again—is a typical nod to white community, at best. If you take away the disaster of on-point tropes, and the “good-ol-boy” reference, the video is consciously awful, and was sending a very clear message in a not-so-subtle dog whistle way to white rural boys everywhere, to hold their white American ground no matter what. As in, “I’m standing on the lynching steps, get it? Get it, good-ol-boys??”
…and that makes me so sad.
It makes me sad that Jason Aldean went in that direction. Really sad.
It makes me sad that once again, music was used to divide, not unite.
It makes me sad that the unifying opportunity country music has—kindness, Americana, healthy faith, family, celebrating freedom for ALL people under our Constitution, community pride, that the likes of Dolly Parton have made a wide-standing career out of—is being politicized and dog-whistled to death, as has our nation’s flag.
It makes me sad that we can’t just sing about community without threatening a lynching or a beating if you “cross the line” in that community. I get we all theoretically wanna beat the butt of the town A-hole once in awhile, but standing singing on the lynching steps?
Yeah. That’s an entirely different message.
It’s made me realize that our nation has really, really fallen into a place of ignorance and fear. Of overt division and identity tropes. We are choosing to lose the nuance of the complex personal experience with one another in lieu of creating these propoganda pieces that highlight the WORST of our nation’s history and behavior. That a VIDEO would be made, for a major country artist—like this?  The label only does that if there’s money attached. And apparently, there’s a lot of money in fear, and hatred, and division, and really, really obvious stereotypes.
And that’s absolutely NOT what living in a small town is like, where everyone’s nuances, and differences, and complex eccentricities make up the balance of a community that depends on one another.
I’m tired of this continuous need to create cultural division in this nation by those trying to cash out on people’s fear. Shame on you, Aldean and Aldean’s label.
Happy 4th of July, the birth of a Democratic Republic whose experiment was the people making it what it could be.
Though many have manipulated the system for monetary gain, and many others have been plowed under in this effort, we still have the scaffolding of an amazing experiment, if we simply have faith in one another, and lead with our hearts. If we have the courage to step up to the juggernaut and place it on a more productive path.
With the hearts and hands of many, absolutely everything is possible!!
People are GOOD. Many are just scared. And there are those keeping them more scared, because it makes those people and organizations money. But we’re smarter now. And more connected now. And more compassionate now.
We are more ingenious and more inventive when we work together—and when we put our genius to work!!
Have a Happy Independence Day. Not a Happy Defiance Day, not a Happy Resistance Day, but a Happy INDEPENDENCE Day; independent and unique. Here for a purpose. Free-thinking and letting others think as well. Room to be whomever it is we feel we are to be, while not needing to take away from others in their own expression.
Freedom does not mean “free for some”, not for others. It is a big concept that many have a very difficult time with. Freedom means FREE. And though we in America aren’t absolutely free (taxes, laws, inequality issues), we have the ingredients in our Constitution here to TRULY create a society where ALL are equal. Where ALL thrive. Where ALL have enough.
Yet that takes vision, and leadership, and heart, and community, and the strength to give away jaded-thinking (which means the courage to potentially be hurt in the process,and the temerity to heal and to move forward anyway.) It takes an awareness that our nation is now governed by dollars first, and people second. It takes a laser-focused mind to create a pathway for those dollars that also create a pathway for the wellness of society, which at times means the wellness of the financial sector, which does not have to be a predator, yet could be a powerful contributor.
Because we are The United States of America. United, to form a more perfect Union. We are not a Confederation of Independent States. We are a Republic which grants the freedom to states to operate best within their population, while still upholding the banner and laws granting freedom as set forth in our country’s governing documents.
For there is a light cast upon all of us, from a beacon on hope, a gateway of opportunity, held open by a WOMAN, forever staring out to the sea on our eastern seaboard. She never tires of hoisting that lamp, a guidepost to through the fog for all to see. And she says:
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” —The New Colossus, Emma Lazarus
If she can do it—we can do it.
Happy 4th of July, everyone. Remember what we have. And let’s continue on in the Great Experiment, evolving it again to meet a new, next chapter in what is indeed demanded of those that live in these complicated and miraculous times.
I had no idea “submarine tragedy memes” are going around. I’ve been extremely busy with work and rehearsals for upcoming music shows, to be seeing any of that.
Yet I’ve been struck with an awareness that I’ll share:
There’s a consciousness theme presenting and re-presenting itself to the world, and I believe it’s being missed because so much of this planet is fascinated by people who have racked up quite a bit of wealth. (After all, you say “billionaire” and all of a sudden, people stop thinking of a person, and turn those humans into ideals. It’s really weird.)
I’m wired to watch for patterns. And the pattern I’ve seen is not about billionaires.
This one singular lesson has repeated itself three times in a row in news cycles, but again, here we are in the bottom-feeder barrel going on and on about billionaires instead of seeing the overarching lesson that’s standing there, all bare-butt naked, waiting for us to notice.
It’s not about billionaires. It’s about hubris, which shall be the crashing downfall in this timeframe of any and all who drink its intoxicating nectar, whether someone has a billion dollars, or $25.00 in their pocket.
The top of June, Former President Donald Trump was charged with 37 counts of mishandled classified documents. He was advised to give the classified documents back and he didn’t. He kept them anyway. His chances of being POTUS again died as his defense blew apart.
Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes was sentenced to prison for fraud. She was advised to not pursue financing for her company because there were concerns on her technology giving way to mistakes. She did it anyway. People died as her company blew apart.
The OceanGate Titan submersible wasn’t fit to dive that deep. There were concerns over its carbon-fiber hull giving way. They did it anyway. People died as the hull blew apart.
The irony with the submarine accident is that the vehicle is now forever interred next to the Titanic, a ship whose designer had concerns over the quality of shattering steel which made up the hull. They built the ship with it anyway. People died as the hull blew apart.
The repeating lesson here is not about billionaires.
It’s hubris—believing that the physics of corner-cutting will somehow not apply in a given situation, because one’s pride is too lofty.
In fact, it’s the corner-cutting that is the very bedrock in the hubris lesson.
In an age where many people think billionaires happen overnight by becoming influencers on Instagram or TikTok—the grit, the steps in learning something new, the steps to a successful launch, and the right roll-out has been replaced by the hurry to get things done. A desire the be “the first” has taken-over proper R & D, and a whole lot of common sense.
Let us step back and look at this repeated lesson of “don’t cut corners”, and how it’s relevant right now in the world. Heck, even the USA.
Several people across both sides of the aisle are tossin-in to run for POTUS. Many of these folks are cutting corners to get to the office of President, pretending they have the experience when they don’t. This will all be exposed on the campaign trail.
If we keep pretending the climate changes aren’t happening, and we cut corners on emissions and carbon loads, like the state of Montana is doing right now, then all of those cut corners will come into play when the environment is soiled.
I’d tell anyone reading this to examine their own paths. Are you cutting corners right now, trying to push to a real-world outcome that’s far more fabulous—even though you’ve been told to slow down and give it rest while facts could be checked? While more work could be put in?
The Old World, the world of Trump and Titanic and Theranos and the submarine design—the fake-it-til-you-make-it vibe was how people attracted money, interviews, and fame. It was an old 1880’s poker game where men with monocles chomped on their cigars, tried to outwit one another, and win the table with a pair of twos pretending to be a royal flush; the masculine posturing, in high swing.
This New Realm has no time for the ego or the bluffing. The ocean levels are raising, viable soil for food is running out, clean drinkable water is being contaminated—pretending we have something we do not have in this timeframe, wastes the timeframe’s time during an era where time is running out.
And it will spit out the hubris that cut the corners, when thoughtful consideration, and a differing course of action, is required; the feminine stewardship in high swing.
So I say we look at the bedrock of this lesson: are there corners you’re cutting to get to something faster? Are there steps you should be taking, but you’re just not doing the work, and expecting the same outcome? That would bring on the big hubris lessons, like having your plans collapse. Hopefully no one is killed in the meantime.
These lessons are about how we shouldn’t cut corners when our hubris demands that we should, for whatever reason—money, laziness, ego, power or fame… all of it will lead to a dissolution of plans, which never had energetic follow through, anyway.
Let’s all observe the patterns and the lessons within the patterns, and just not get anyone killed in the wake of our own denial, pride, and insecurity.
I recently read a terrific article on how chronic venting can affect a workplace culture negatively. And I agree.
I’ll be the very first to admit that right now, at 54 years old, the interactions I have in my life, and what I choose to have in my life, have changed dramatically.
I have consciously worked on my own “stuff” in my life, so that I am not just this person who is sending random texts and calls and freak-outs, venting to everyone around me, because I’m having a bad day. Or feeling unseen. Or insecure. Or unsure.
I weirdly actually became an adult at some point in my life. And I really like being an adult who handles my own issues and doesn’t have to “tattle” on everyone and everything around me, to have my inner child heard. So Whoo-hoo for that!
PLUS —
I have an acute awareness that energy is BIG. And venting energy is HUGE. We all need to air a grievance once in a while, yet I am the first person to say that folks vent way way way way WAAYYYY too much, to their work companions, to random people in grocery stores, to their friends, to their family (this is what we call “continuing the family drama”) — we are in a continual state of spew in this country—rather than reflection—and it’s a curious statement on how we tend to feel invisible.
Folks in my personal life, and work life, generally will not see me just spilling my guts about some thing that’s bothering me, especially on a work team, unless I’m asked, or unless I have time to think about how I would like to present my issue.
There is a reason for it.
My being quiet and processing is respectful to both myself and those I work with.
I do not need to neurotically gossip about everyone or a system for me to get my thoughts organized.
Keeping things to myself until I can figure out how to present them is my right.
I’ve actually have friendships that have somewhat fallen underneath the bridge, because I’m really disinterested in gossiping and constantly venting, and that’s literally the only way that some folks know how to create a bridge of connection—is to hear my “problems”, or tell me their “problems”.
And it’s exhausting.
I want to be around loving people who are innovating.
I wish to be around positive thinkers, and people moving forward in their own process of self-discovery, whatever that is.
I want to listen to other people’s great ideas, and what their incredible thoughts are. And I understand we always don’t have those, and sometimes life is just life, and we’re in a weird holding pattern or laughing and dishing — it’s fun to just talk about whatever.
But the chronic venting. My God. It’s become dysfunctional in this nation. And I think that social media is a big part of the problem.
People in my work and personal life can get very, very uncomfortable by my not adding into the negative discussion, or texting / emailing others back. And that’s a statement on our narcissistic constantly out-spewing culture, that constantly requires being acknowledged.
Conscious consideration of an issue, of what challenges us, and sitting with that conscious consideration, often times is the greatest teacher that we can have.
Not venting constantly.
Generally, in American culture, we want to be heard. This makes us feel like we are not “suffering in silence“, and there is a difference between suffering in silence, sharing an observation, and being a fire hose that takes down the morale of everybody around you.
That’s selfish.
Plus, there is a misunderstanding that continued venting to people close to you, especially in work or friend/family situations, is creating a “bond”. Or “alliances”. Or “sharing”.
I believe the new term for this is “trauma bonding”.
I am extremely adverse to this modality of connection, as it focuses on the continued state of the trauma, rather than the healing.
Sure, I can listen to someone having a bad day. But when it’s chronic? I’m out. Or when it’s just a random negative call, text, or email with no context about a situation, or about someone I know?
That’s a huge turn-off.
Of course we all need to discuss something that’s going on, so we can get some perspective. And often were too afraid to simply chat with the person that we have the issue with.
We’re so afraid that if we say some thing, it’s the end of the world, however, clearing the air with someone, and coming to somebody with our heart of understanding, is the true way to make bonds. Not b*tching about a situation behind somebody else’s back, endlessly.
That complaining-passive-aggressive-self-victimization seems to be the bedrock of American water-cooler discussions.
It’s bizarre.
And it’s energetically gross, for the integrity of the person spewing negativity, and for the person having to be spewed upon.
Statistically, the largest form of venting in the United States, both in work and personal situations, are written—long texts and emails.
The thing that’s funny about that, is that words carry weight. That’s why people want to write out what’s bothering them. It takes the weight out of them, and places it into the universe. However, what people don’t take it to account, is this weight is then landing on the person to whom they are delivering this written content.
So, even though you may not be saying something to someone verbally, every single bit of the frustration, the anger, and the rage, comes flying through that text and smacks someone else in the face, during their day.
And unlike a conversation, where another individual could stop the conversation, and excuse themselves, a text or email is just sitting there with a bunch of ranting negative garbage about someone else, in it.
It is energetically toxic, and can feel like an unsolicited attack by the person receiving the “venting” message.
I don’t think folks understand this. We wouldn’t pick up the dog poo from our yard, and then take that bag and just dump it on another neighbor’s yard, just to get rid of it.
That’s what’s occurring energetically, when we text-dump our “stuff” into someone else’s email box or text feed.
And even if someone stopped reading a text or email, that energy is still in the text chain, so it needs deleted off. I’ve know many people in work and personal situation to get these insane texts (I’ve been to lunch with folks when this happens )and all of a sudden this negative text come in, and it ruins a perfectly great afternoon for that person. Heck, I’ve had it happen to me.
And again, I’m putting the caveat out there that of course we are all human, and once in awhile, need to talk to somebody about our grievances. However, just random negative thoughts about a person or a workplace, kicked out to individuals randomly, especially through the written word , is not productive.
The only person that’s helping, is the individual sending the venting message. But it’s sure not helping the recipient.
A suggestion, if you find that you need to get something out of you in order to see it and look at it and process it, would be to go ahead and write your venting thoughts in your notes, or write on a piece of paper all the things you’d like, to say to get it out of your body, rather than sending it to someone else, who has absolutely nothing to do with the situation.
That random “venting” puts a lot of pressure on your workplace, family/friends.
That’s just wearing out every single person around you, when our own thoughts really need to be ruminated upon, to see what they are attempting to teach us
To all the chronic work-place-and-friends-and-family venters out there— your need to continually spew every unresolved insecurity, you have, on everybody else, with your misplaced resentment—is, again, selfish.
Handling the issue with the person or situation that you have the issue with, is the adult course of action.
If a person is struggling this much in our daily life, and every day is just a complain-fest, then empower yourself with some personal responsibility, and leave the situation, or seek a therapist for the issues that are troubling.
Our workplace, family, and friends, are not our therapist. And when we lose track of this, our personal issues are out of control.
If we in America could learn the difference between a one-off constructive and healing discussion of what is troubling us, as opposed to nasty, snarky, impulsive side-venting through the written word, or at the water cooler, we would be such a happy and functional country.
We would be incredible individuals.
And we would no longer be addicted to what we consider “being rescued/being heard“ in every aspect of our own trauma, by someone listening or reading our constant stream of what we think is wrong.
If we have the courage to come out of the identity of “the victim”, in any situation, even if it’s a true dynamic, then we can begin to empower ourselves toward productive solutions for the rest of our life.
A quick adult rule of thumb for those who may be confused out there: if you are chronically complaining about your job, it is time to either let it go and continue on, or find a new job.
If you are chronically complaining about a person, and you’ve tried to work it out and you’re still chronically complaining about this person, it’s time to let it go, or move on from that situation or individual.
Unless, of course, one is simply addicted to being “the victim” and the attention one receives from being “the victim” ( that “victim attention” can be a form of clinical narccicism).
That’s a different issue all together.
If we could take 1/10 of the energy we use venting about others and situations, and instead, employ that energy into the world to edify our minds, bodies, and daily routines, we would not only heal ourselves, we would heal the world.
Yet if the world heals, that means we are going to be required to be more responsible within that healed world, and we cannot simply collapse within our own issues, our own unresolved trauma.
In a heal the world, we will have an invitation to heal as well. And perhaps our personal identities as the victim, the one who suffers, the one who is not heard, the one who has never been seen, perhaps that person, that years-old very invisible identity—is who we truly think we are.
And perhaps, if we heal, we feel like we will simply disappear into nothing.
Or, we will emerge and be seen for everything we are—the good, the bad and the ugly. And perhaps that’s the basis of all of this. Perhaps venting is a symptom of our deep fear of truly being seen.
Because what if we’re simply not enough?
What if everyone sees every single thing we are, and what if what they witness inside of us— is dramatically underwhelming?
Or worse, what if everyone actually realizes how unbelievably capable we are, and they wish us to be a participant in this world?
And what if the weight of our past wounds causes us to fear expectation from others? Because we feel that we have failed in the past? Or we were told we were failures? Or we were punished by narcissists for our excelling around them?
That’s a lot of “what if’s”.
The ironic portion of this, is that when we vent, we live in the past. When we take action, we live in the present. Living in the present is how we change our future. Yet we are terrified of the present. I’m not quite sure why. Perhaps because the pain of the past has loomed so large that we are chronically living in its shadow.
Yet embrace what you are. Embrace the present. Embrace creating a gorgeous world and a gorgeous set of relationships that you would love to participate with.
Only you can be present. Only you can decide to be part of life. There will not be one person or Diety, God Itself included, who will save you from this lesson.
We may pout and withdraw and give the universe the silent treatment, yet there is no one coming to save us from that big black hole in our chest of “not being seen”—but us. Not our parents, not our spouses, not our workplace, not this planet.
And perhaps, that’s why we’re so frightened. Because we simply don’t believe that we are enough to get through this life.
However, spoiler alert: you were born with absolutely everything you’ll ever need to flourish in this lifetime. The only thing you truly need to do at this point, is give yourself permission to evolve, to grow, and to experience the joy day to day.
And that’s where the courage lies.
________
To access the article on workplace venting, visit Kat Liendgens Blog.
The events of the last week in the Montana legislature have really been hard to watch.
Rep. Zooey Zephyr, a trans woman from Missoula, has been kicked out of the House of Representatives for using a common allegory at the end of her rebuttal regarding anti-trans legislation. In reference to the topic of trans-youth suicide, Rep. Zephyr told the anti-trans legislators that she hoped they’d see the “blood on their hands.”
The Montana Freedom Caucus, a far-right conservative group, moved to remove Rep. Zephyr from the House chamber. Once she was removed, and completing her representative duties on a bench in the public hallway, a group of women, many wives of the Republican legislators, and the mother of the Republican supermajority House Speaker, sat on the bench so that Rep. Zephyr would have to stand at a coffee counter with her laptop, to remain close to the House chamber in order to complete her work with colleagues.
These events have been especially hard to watch for those of us who have been treated like Zooey.
When I was 19, I realized I was gay. It was 1988. I had attended Evangelical churches as a youth. I realized that many people would think I was an abomination. A mistake. A phase. A sin. A birth defect. A perversion.
I knew that many people would not treat me the same way they’d treat me, if I had a boyfriend. Yet I was who I was. I couldn’t change that.
I knew that the only way people would start to believe that I was a person, not the abomination, or the perversion, or the sin, was if they got to know me, first. And know I had a heart. And a mind. And a sense of humor. Then I could introduce them to my then-partner. But only then.
Many people were surprised to find out I was gay back then. Most were polite, and many were kind. Yet being out and gay 35 years ago was a lonely venture. Gay bars were hidden 10 miles out of the Billings city limits. Don’t ask don’t tell was the later law of the land. The goal was to blend in. However. I knew that if I didn’t come forward with who I was, I’d be a liar to everyone I met.
And I realized that if I said nothing, the gay people who came behind me would then suffer for my silence.
I knew some people were homophobic. Yet I had no idea how cruel people could be, just because I wasn’t like them. It was a passive-aggressive kind of cruel, where you’re frozen out with 10 pairs of eyes on you, all too scared to say what they mean, so they let their actions speak for them.
I knew intellectually people could be unkind, but until you’re on the other end of someone looking at you like you’re not even the same genus they are, it’s very hard to explain.
I hope no one ever has to feel that way.
Most people are good and kind. Until they’re not.
“The good ol’ days” weren’t good, for those of us who weren’t like everyone else. I’ve had beer thrown on me, I’ve been spit on, I’ve had people screaming in my face names that would catch the devil’s eardrums on fire, I’ve been surrounded by males in a public place who made rape threats to “straighten me out”, I’ve been fired from a job specifically for being gay, I’ve been fired off a church music staff, I’ve been told I couldn’t wear clothing with the company logo of my employer out in public, I’ve been told by record execs to stay in the closet (I didn’t), and the list goes on.
And every time something vile like that would happen, you’d think I’d collapse into myself, or hate those folks doing it. But I didn’t. It spurred a resolve in me, and I just knew their bizarre behavior didn’t have to do with me.
Then all I could see was their blinding fear.
They’d be screaming, or spitting, or tossing beer, or whatever, and they’d look like a lost child scared in a mall, eyes wide, mouth gaping, spitting as they shouted—pure panic. And I’d think to myself as PBR dripped down my chin and off my hair, how weird, that this 6’ 2” guy is so terrified of a 5’ 4” girl.
How absolutely dumbfounding.
That’s how it feels in that moment. You’re not scared for your life. You’re not angry. You’re gobsmacked by the ridiculousness of it, of the incomprehensible reaction they’re having to simply you being alive on the planet.
The hurt feelings come later, when you’re by yourself, and the shock wears off; that’s when the gravity of the unkindness hits you.
I had plenty of sassy moments putting folks in their place. Yet the most impactful moments were when I didn’t. When I just looked at them, as my hair dripped with beer, until they shouted themselves out. I’d reach for a napkin and calmly dry myself off, and then say, in an equally calm voice, “Dude. Seriously. If you were gonna throw a beer on me, you could have at least made it a decent one.”
And then it would hit them—how utterly inane they behaved. I wasn’t destroyed over it. And they’re out a beer.
Watching Zooey in the House chamber hold her dignity—I get what that feels like. They can toss you out, fire you, scream at you, cover you in beer—but they can’t take your dignity.
Not unless you let them.
I never did. Neither did Zooey.
Other LGBTQI+ people have lost their lives in similar situations. It wasn’t a beer being thrown in their faces. It was a lead pipe. And they never woke up. Our trans community is the most brutalized of all.
And why? Why? Because people can’t control their fear, their rage, their religious hatred, their need to snap because the world is changing faster than their perceived control over all of it.
So yes. All of this in Helena is hard to watch. It’s hard to know that what I’ve chosen to forge through, for the purpose of creating a smoother social path for those coming behind me—has amounted to a trans person being chased off a public bench in 2023, after she was tossed out of the House of Representatives in my home state.
No doubt, retribution for a country that has chosen to codify and protect marriage between ALL legal consenting adults. Yet in all of the headway we’ve made as an LGBTQI+ community to simply be seen as people first—then to have all that headway turned into the most demented kind of sideshow in Helena—
That breaks my heart.
But you know what WON’T break?
Representative Zephyr.
I didn’t break, millions of others like me didn’t break, and she won’t break, either.
She’ll do what we all did—quietly throw her shoulder into the pad, and keep leaning forward. With dignity. With resolve. With millions upon millions upon millions of us at her back, leaning with her.
Because we are turning tides. We are changing minds. We are elevating laws. I stood on the shoulders of giants, who were gunned down at Stonewall and burned alive in gay bar raids of the 60’s and 70’s, and my shoulders are strong, to hold up those who continue onward.
I choose kindness, everyday. Not because I’m blind to the ugliness of the world. But because I know what it is to be on the other side of judgement, unkindness, rage, horror, anger, bitterness, fear, marginalization, bullying—I know what it is to feel singled-out. I sadly understood that that was the world I was living in.
However, I never accepted that that would be the world I would leave behind.
Not as long as this gal is on this side of the grass.
Not as long as we can blind them with love. And bludgeon them with dignity. And embarrass them with kindness.
Not as long as the good people of the world stand firm, the heartbeat of a new way forward, this evolving world quaking beneath the feet of old fear.
So yes. This Helena debacle is hard to watch for me. Because even though my life has been a rich and deep blessing full of the most kind, most giving, most loving and accepting people alive—none of us get out of this life without a few wounds.
And yes. I know Representative Zephyr will prevail. Not simply for herself, but for the 11,000 Missoulians she represents. Because those of us who are called to stand up for who we are—and there are millions of us out there—have the vision for what that means.
God made us gritty. God made us strong.
God made us.
God. Made. Us.
Please enjoy this song written and performed by my best bestie (and fellow Pope Jane alumni) Kristen Coyner, recorded in our acoustic duo project together, called “Backseat Bordello”. The song is called “Rise Up”, about the LGBTQI+ community. It’s track #6 on our 2010 release, “End Times Diner”.
View the video of this song we put together for the Trevor Project, an organization assisting suicidal LGBTQI youth.
This image floated across my Social Media, and it’s so dang funny that it has brought on a story for the weekend.
As a once-pastor of several differing Christian churches, the most common question I received was:
“Does God really hate gay people? Because it’s in the Bible.”
I would answer, “Where did you hear that God hated gay people?”
The usual answer was “Well God said ‘love the sinner, hate the sin’, but then God said ‘if your brother stumbles, leave him to stumble and keep going on your righteous journey’. Plus God said being gay was an abomination.”
This was such an out-of-context word salad that I would clarify with, “Is this something you’ve put together? From reading the Bible?”
They would answer, always—“Oh, no. It’s what my pastor at [any name] Church said in a sermon.”
“What denomination was your church?” I’d ask.
And they would come back with “Evangelical”, “Four Square”, “Vineyard”, “Assemby of God”, “Baptist”.
I would then go on to explain that in fact, God did NOT say those things in the Bible. They would always respond, “Yes, God said to love the sinner, hate the sin.”
“Actually, no,” I’d say. “That’s not in the Bible. Anywhere. That’s a catchy phrase pastors made up that combines many, many allegories in the Old Testament, about not judging others. And it still came out judgy.”
This would stump them, and they’d say, “Well, Paul said to leave your brother on the ground after he stumbles.”
I’d point out that what they were citing wasn’t in the Bible, either, and that it was Jesus, not Paul, in Matthew 18 that said “If your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over.”
And I’d explain that Jesus goes on to say that if that sinny person then blows off the guy that’s trying to help them, go back and get a group to address the issue — an intervention of sorts— and if that doesn’t work, talk to the church, and if that doesn’t work, just leave them to their own choices and ignore the behavior you don’t like and go on about your life.
I would always say, “He says nothing about ‘leaving them on the ground’, but that’s certainly a dramatic flair.”
By then the person was usually a little lost and upset, and they’d counter with, “Well, God said being gay is an abomination.”
“Ah, yes,” I’d muse, “good ol’ Leviticus 20. Did you know that the book of Leviticus was originally a handbook for the Rabbis? Like an employee manual. These were standards the Rabbis were to adhere to. There were lots and lots of ‘abominations’ in there.”
I’d explain that in fact, a few sentences down from the same-sex mention, it was “An abomination” to wear a cloth of two different kinds of weaves on the Sabbath. So pretty much, anyone going to church in a poly-cotton dress was in the same abomination-level as men having sex with one another.
According to Leviticus.
That got the furrowed brow from the person that meant “well that’s ridiculous,” but there were never any words that followed.
By now, the person is utterly spun-out. Everything their pastor had said, or whatever they heard, just isn’t accurate. And they are usually reaching for something to believe, at this point. So they punt with, “Well Paul said it’s a sin for men to have sex with men. So since God said we’re supposed to hate the sin, wouldn’t that mean God hated gay people?”
I would explain AGAIN that “Love the sinner, hate the sin” is NOT in the Bible.
People made it up. I usually get glazed eyes of disbelief at that one.
I would also detail the fact that the word “hate” WAS NOT used in the high Greek of the New Testament, or in the Hebrew of The Old Testament (which is a bad rip-off and bastardization of the Jewish Torah). The word “hate” was a later, more modern interpretative addition to the Bible by King James and others. The translation for the words that “hate” was substituted for most closely came to “ignore” and “be indifferent towards”.
Big difference.
This was always met with, “Well, Paul said it was wrong.”
I would clarify with the person that it was their pastor that told them this, about Paul. “Of course! Where else would I hear it?” They’d spark at me, losing patience.
“You may be interested to know that the passage your pastor is referring to is in Paul’s letter to the Romans 1:26-27. Paul never say it was ‘wrong’. He said ‘Even their women exchanged natural sexual relations for unnatural ones.’ If you look up the High Greek the letter was written in, ‘natural’ translates to ‘for procreation purposes’. Paul said women were having sex with women just to have sex, and weren’t having babies, which was incomprehensible to him at the time. That women’s sexuality would expand past procreation.”
There was usually some “frustration red” in the face of the person at this point, and they’d blurt, “Paul said it about men, too.”
“True, yet the word he used was still ‘unnatural’. Same translation. A lot of newer translations of the Bible have substituted ‘shameful’ for ‘unnatural’, which is even more off-base to the translation, as the translator is assuming Paul’s emotional response rather than sticking to the context of the word.”
“Well,” they’d usually pivot, “Paul was an apostle of Jesus, so I trust that he knows what Jesus would want.”
And there it is.
The biggest, most erroneous, most RIDICULOUS fan-fiction plot twist of all the Evangelical kingdom.
“Actually,” I’d say, “Paul who wrote all those books in the Bible, was NOT an apostle of Jesus.”
I’d explain that Paul, who was originally Saul, a Jewish attorney who was struck off his horse by God and made blind for a minute while God reamed him out about Saul’s persecution of the followers of Jesus (then God told him to go write awesome things about Jesus instead, and by the way, his new name was now Paul)—never knew Jesus. Because he wrote about him nearly 100 years after his death.
At this point, the person in front of me is silent, weirded out, frustrated, and usually kind of lost. “Why would my pastor say all that if it isn’t true?”
I always try and give folks the benefit of the doubt, because I truly do not believe people WANT to hate others. (I believe hate is a group-think fear response, in wishing to desperately ‘belong’ to something, and negativity is low-hanging fruit to build a shared-ideology upon.)
But anyway, my usual answer was something along the lines of, “Perhaps they thought it was true. Perhaps someone they trusted told them those things, and they never researched it. Perhaps they don’t like gay people. However, none of it is in the Bible.”
The best part, for me, is getting to explain what IS in the Christian Bible. “Did you know that the concept of ‘loving your neighbor’ is mentioned in the Bible directly, 8 times? Did you know that NOT judging others is mentioned in the Bible quite a bit, 37 times come to mind. Did you know that the word LOVE appears in the Bible 310-898 times, depending on the translation? And did you know there are 4 different kinds of love the Bible talks about?”
It’s all true. I explain that if folks choose to follow Christ, they’re being spiritually taught to be temperate, loving, compassionate, patient, non-judging, non-exclusive, to mind their own business, to stand up for people who have no voice even if it’s hard, and that good wine is the most important. The last part at least would make them laugh.
I also explain that a lot of Evangelical churches teach out of the books that Paul (Saul) wrote, rather than the teachings of Jesus that were recounted, due to Paul’s black-and-white way of lining out an argument. Once again, Paul/Saul was an attorney by trade.
This, with the base reference of many sermons and teachings on the the books of Paul, spinning his particular “argument” for God, make many Evangelical churches “Paulian” churches, not “Christian” churches.
Paul was a little rigid. Jesus was not. Paul was human. Jesus was a human who was sharing a connection to a Divine Consciousness, as well as his own. Jesus had a bit of a different perspective on things, all around. Not that Paul didn’t have good points a lot of the time.
But he wasn’t Jesus. And many Evangelical churches teach from his writings, as if he was.
It MATTERS, what pastors teach their congregations who trust them.
And many Christian churches have taken off with the character of Jesus, identity-thefted this spiritual teacher, applied some written opinions of attorney Paul to their own emotional objectives and narrow lenses of sin-not-sin (by the way, the word “sin” is a Roman archery term that means “to miss the mark”. It does not mean “big fat loser to be crushed under the boot heal of God, who also deserves to be cast out like a rotten salad”), and created a narrative that quite literally —
—has created a false god, worshipped by millions, who is forged in the image of its fear-based human creators. A fickle and judgmental idol wearing the face of a white-skinned, blonde fan-sketched Jesus, and the clean white satin cloaks of an English court.
Not the dark-skinned, dark-haired homeless, penniless, middle eastern man that wore knee-length tunics made of course natural color fibers, as was custom for a working Jewish carpenter, that Jesus truly was.
This is idolatry in its most potent form.
Those attracted to this false god, this excluder, this champion for judgement —they seek justification for their own fear, condoning for their cowardice when faced with spiritual and emotional growth. They do not seek a God who is larger than themselves, who will challenge them to view others through a lens of their own humility, their own personal shortcomings, to stretch and grow and evolve.
They seek a god who is as small as they are. They seek a mirror of themselves.
This is narcissism in its most perfect and literal form, as Narcissus, the mythological Greek figure looked into the pond and fell in love with his own reflection.
It’s a poignant and frightening type of narcissism, to create a god in one’s own worse image, and to teach that to others, to appeal to their lowest nature.
This very scenario, this very action of creating a false god and teaching it to the many, who then adopt this judging and vengeful and excluding being as “Christ”, is actually very detailed in the Christian Bible.
In Revelations, in fact. Pretty much the whole thing.
Throughout the entire Book of Revelations, it talks of a “false Christ” rising up and being lauded as the real savior, only to make way for an even worse false Christ. This fake being which is lifted up by the masses in a frenzy, to the point of being considered “anointed by god”, is seen as god by some, and bamboozles people with charisma, “signs and wonders”, flashy displays, survives some kind of “wound” on its “head” (a blow to authority), and is allowed to do whatever it wants for 42 months without recourse.
Then it gives way to another even worse version of itself.
Sound familiar?
Anyway. Poor Jesus. Can you believe he died for all this? That’s a guy with a vision and a plan.
And that plan never included “hating anyone”. Ever. For any reason.
If you’re someone who is involved in a church congregation that teaches unresearched or disinformed biblical doctrine, you may consider either seeking another church or spiritual center that details the living, inclusive, heart-felt and loving teachings of that great traveling-hippie-guy known as Jesus Christ, or, simply owning the fact that the false/disinformed biblical doctrine is a new belief system to which you feel is just and correct, and to which you adhere.
Both are honest. Both are heartfelt.
Yet one means you are not a Christian.
May each one of you, no matter where you land in the recognition of a higher power (or not), be steeped in love and blessed with peace, contentment, and abundance.
For these things are the true birthright of the human spirit, which is a little pinch of an All-Loving God.
FOR YEARS now, you’ve asked me for a live online event–to tap into the heavens, and channel LIVE information for the world. There’s never been a better time to do it. So I’ve assembled the right Zoom support team for this epic global event–and now it’s HERE!
All my amazing pals in the UK, Australia, New Zealand, Italy, India, Turkey, Norway– plus ALL of my dear friends across all 50 of our states– you can now ALL attend my LIVE GLOBAL CHANNELING EVENT on Zoom, Sat. March 25th at 12pm MDT / 11am PDT / 1pm CDT / 2pm EDT / UCT, GMT -6 (It’ll be daylight savings then)!
There’s a Call to Action for humanity being placed out by Angels, OffWorlders, Interdimensional Beings, and even future timelines–and it’s more than time that our hearts stepped up to answer that call.
This two-hour information-packed LIVE international channeling session will bring forward moving up-to-the-moment messages about the future of humanity from the angelic realm, our OffWorld Family, interdimensional beings, and future timelines, for our human family across the globe. These are complex, troubling, exciting, and evolving times.
Hear from the collective angelic realm how our relationship with global conflict is nearing its tipping point; learn how humanity can heal its broken-trust relationship with itself; discover the truth behind the recent UAP / UFO sightings; receive surprisingly uplifting messages from our OffWorld cultures; understand the illusions of lack and limitation placed before us by those who wish to control resources; be introduced to upcoming challenges we have in store with weather, economy, food and water supplies, energy—and what incredible opportunities and inventions we create through these challenges.
Plus, a Q & A — attendees will have the chance to submit questions to me prior to the live channeling event—and your question may be read live and answered during the session!
The event will be recorded so attendees can watch it at a later time.
Tickets are $55 for this Live Global Channeling Zoom Forum. (We regret that due to bandwidth management for this event, tickets are non-refundable.) The Zoom link will be sent to ticket holders 1 hour prior to the event.
The future may look bleak, yet you’ll be awed as to what we have in store. Bring your questions, your open heart, your open mind, and make space for your consciousness to be blown wide open by the knowledge and opportunity that is being gifted to the human race by a loving and benevolent Universe.
Wherever you are on the planet–hop online, tune in, add your consciousness to this phenomenal event, and have your hope in our brightest future rekindled!
Prosperity and kindness are our birthright, from the Universe. The end of wandering in The Dark starts with us—now.
SEE YOU ALL ONLINE, FRIENDS ACROSS the EARTH, for this exciting and enlightening global event!
It’s almost the New Year. Just a shout-out about 2023! For those who couldn’t get to my Dec. 14th Barjon’s Forum in Billings, MT on 2023 and what’s to come, as shown to me by the angels—here are the Cliff-notes recap. This isn’t a short read. Because 2023 is involved.
2023 is the Year of Rooting. It’s the beginning of a new 10-year cycle.
2012 was the immersion into the Timeframe of the Feminine. The Mayan calendar called 2012 “The End and the Beginning”. The Western World, which leans heavily in business on the masculine, called 2012 “The End of the World”.
But it wasn’t the end. It was just the end of only the masculine energy leading all things.
This doesn’t mean that since 2012, males are lesser. All living beings have Yin and Yang/ Masculine and Feminine energy. For the past 100,000 years previous to 2012, we leaned forward with the Yang / Masculine side of energy, societally. It makes sense if you think about it: spread the seed, build the roads and bridges, etc.
In 2012, the energy shifted, because there was nothing left to conquer, nothing left to terraform, no more seed to spread on an already over-populated planet, without compromising said planet.
In fact, toward the end of this 100,000 masculine year cycle, the divine masculine had spun out of balance, into averous. Into ego. Into excess and greed. The carnage of “Manifest Destiny” in action.
Every energy shift has a shadow period. It’s a cross-fade time where the energy of what’s coming in, wiggles with the energy of what’s going out. Like a riptide on a beach. Think of Mercury Retrograde, which has a 6 or 7 days period beforehand where electronic stuff just starts to sputter and act weird, even though the retrograde isn’t here yet.
A Mercury Retrograde lasts a few weeks. So a shadow period is a hand full of days.
A masculine / feminine energy cycle on the earth lasts roughly 100,000 years, or enough to imprint society and the planet. So a shadow period of this nature is several years long.
From 2012-2017 was the shadow period from the masculine to the feminine timeframe, Crossfading the portion of the wiggling masculine timeframe, with the incoming feminine timeframe.
Out was the time of conquering and submitted/subjugation (the imbalanced masculine), and in was the timeframe of stewardship, caring, compassion, and the extreme strength to hold these tenets in place, no matter what (the divine feminine).
We saw the #MeToo movement rise.
We saw Black Lives Matter.
We saw MMIW take center stage.
We saw the deep caracature of the masculine push back with Trump. And so many more.
It was time to caretake the planet we lived upon. (Long past, actually.) Not simply exploit it.
So here we are, upon 2023, The Year of Rooting. The big brush stroke version is that we have had 5 years to get our crap figured out. To decide what we stand for, who we are, what’s important to bring into the world, and what, in us, needs to go.
We’ve been given ample time to figure out what we’re about. This year’s 2022 Year of Expansion was an exercise in EVERYTHING in our consciousness, our bodies, our lives, and our life paths expanding—our hopes, our fears, our wellness, our illness, our strength, our weaknesses, our isms, our quirks—it ALL expanded.
Each one of us changed remarkably in 2022, whether we chose to acknowledge it or not.
We flung through the wild atmosphere like a tree being ripped from the soil by a tornado, spun high into the stratosphere and sunk deep into the ground, hundreds of miles away—in 2023.
Where we landed, we landed.
Put very plainly, the time for playing both sides against the middle, the time for hedging our bets, the time for “faking it until you make it”—is over. Long over. There’s not one bit of energy in the cosmos that will support the grift, the spin, the illusion, the procrastination while we wait for “universe to intervene”—anymore.
Whomever you’ve chosen to be up to this point in 2022, is what will root in 2023.
Period.
Which is why I’ve harped for several years on working on our consciousness. Because the roots are hitting the soul, right now.
Now, in 2023, it’s time to GROW DEEP. Whatever you are, whatever you’re doing—if it serves you, grow it DEEP.
2022 was like fishing on a Florida charter boat, where you toss a bunch of poles over the side, each one with a different bait, each one tied to the railing, to see what you’ll catch. It was about diversification. It was about the last bet-hedge we could make.
2023 is about learning what bait was “hit” the most while fishing. It’s about fishing with one pole. With the bait that works.
It’s about conscious focus.
It’s about being okay to commit. To whatever that may be.
If you have been hedging about changing jobs, or retiring—do it. If you have been hedging about starting or leaving a relationship—do it. If you’ve been on the fence about an entrepreneurial idea or starting a business —DO IT.
Don’t stay frozen, waffling in nowhere’s-ville in your current situation out of complacency, laziness, or fear. Or you’ll find it tragically hard to leave later, as the roots of your decision grow tightly around your ankles, freezing you in complacency, laziness and fear throughout 2023—sour soil for any prospective crop.
Take action. It’s not a “risk” if it betters your life, and the life of those around you.
Root those commitments down deep, to weather upcoming storms. Whether we wish it to or not, 2023 will place us all in a shoot, and down that slide we shall go.
2023’s Year of Rooting doesn’t erase free will, or erased our ability to change our mind. However, it will place us all on the path we have truly been moving toward over the past five years.
Not the path we WANT. Not the path we HOPE for. Not the path we think we’re ENTITLED to.
But the path we’ve put the WORK into. Or—not.
2023 asks us to stop effing around with our own whining self-absorption, and to BE WHAT WE ARE in the world. Because the world needs us.
That takes work, on all of our part.
The imbalanced masculine cries “Look at me! I am the answer!”
The divine feminine whispers, “Look to us all. For we all are the answer.”
2023’s Year of Rooting, for some, will be the launch of what’s seen as “overnight success”—which is actually the culmination of years and years of conscious focus, taking ROOT.
For others, 2023 will feel like tar around the ankles, as they seem to go nowhere —which is actually the culmination of years and years of a conscious lack of focus, taking ROOT.
If we root our lives in LOVE, we will grow a mighty oak fortress whose roots can bear the hefty weight of those fruits.
If we root our lives in fussiness and discontent, we will grow a soft weeping willow, bending in the slightest breeze, supporting only the whims of the wind.
Neither is better than the other. As in any forest, all trees serve a purpose.
Yet 2023’s Year of Rooting forces us to sht or get off the pot. Or, more accurately, to sht and move on, or to become the sh*tter pot itself. With a strong foundation, either way.
2023 is a magical year for hope, for decorum. For innovation, for invention.
Extremism is out. Moderation is in. Seething vitriol won’t be tolerated. Because it cannot permanently ROOT. It is a passing fancy.
LOVE will root.
KINDNESS will root.
HELPING and SUPPORTING others will root.
Self-aggrandizement, self-victimizing, attention-seeking through the lowest common denominator, raging, blaming, paranoia, conspiracy—all are energies that have no roots, yet teeter atop insecurities whose roots are begging to be healed. None will root in 2023.
Don’t take my or the angels’ word for it. Watch the media trends, even now, moving into 2022. Media has always exploited people’s wounds.
I’m 2023, watch the move away from the sensationalized negative, a shaming tactic used in the old world imbalanced masculine timeframe to sculpt the public narrative.
Shaming is out.
Accountability is in.
Bragging is out.
True actions taking in humility is in.
Currently, we can watch Tech Titan Elon Musk digging himself an embarrassing hole on Twitter, his same braggadocio that was celebrated in the old world masculine, landing like nails on the chalkboard of the compassionate feminine timeframe.
We will see the most dramatic social changes of the last 5 years, in 2023.
Not through civil wars. Not through authoritarian take-overs.
Yet through hundreds of millions of people—simply not engaging the madness and the bullsh*t , and moving on to build a more functional, compassionate, sustainable world.
Power only has power if the masses give it power. “Power” is a fragile illusion, granted to many through participating with their narrative.
The feminine doesn’t demand power. It IS the power that nurtures. The feminine in males, nurtures. The feminine births. The feminine ideology in the masculine births modalities. It is the time of co-creating, trusting, rooting that field which we have seen over the last year.
Negativity will grow a crop of misery and chaos in 2023. One sprout at a time.
Love will grow a field of opportunity in 2023. One root at a time.
This is the overview. Yet the bullet point is that it’s time to sink the shovel in the ground to begin construction on the next ten years’ worth of our energies.
“Light at the End of the Tunnel” – Photo by Danielle Egnew
In reading a beautiful post the other day by my dear pal who shared a conversation with another mutual dear pal of ours, I was inspired to look into something more deeply. My friend’s post was about focusing on what is beautiful in life, rather than what is hateful.
Our mutual friend was running for U.S. Congress recently, and had no doubt encountered the strange wall of hatred that appears to be running rampant in that sector of reality. Not just toward those with differing political viewpoints, yet those who happen to be female.
It is a great irony that the granddaddy of discrimination—hatred—really is nondiscrimatory.
And it got me thinking about this phenomenon called hatred; an old virus that continues to infect those whose emotional immune systems are ignored.
People feel so numb in their lives that they’d rather shock themselves into feeling something, anything, by entertaining hatred—rather than love, passion, healthy emotion, which may involve some grief.
Hatred is a placebo when the broken and frightened heart craves purpose, craves connection.
It deceives us into uniting around a common passion, though deeply wounded—a very negative one. Yet a bond, a sense of belonging, is created by those who share the same toxic passion.
For many, it’s better than being alone in a world that terrifies them.
I always look at folks who choose hatred as their identity, and their bonding mechanism, as people who are in life’s last ditch effort to find purpose, as they lose their battle against drowning in a churning, frightening sea of invisibility.
Hatred, on the outset, is a seething force that ultimately eats the host who entertains it, from the inside out. Hatred is like a mild acid—at first, it’s an exhilarating tingle on the skin, until the fingers go numb, and a stronger acid must be applied, to get the same tingle.
In the end, hatred burns through every nerve ending we have, leaving us even less able to feel, to connect, to sense our environment—rendering us more cut off, and more alone, than when we started.
Ultimately, those who choose hatred as their passionate connection to purpose, those who fear being alone, end up burning away every ability they have to feel a connection to anyone or anything.
They become a numb island, starving for feeling, unable to feel connected to anything unless a stronger acid is poured. And soon, the acid is so intense, it simply eats through their nerves, through their skin, through their bones, and right through their heart.
Medical studies have been submitted on the effects of hatred. It shortens lifespans, inflames cancer, fuels autoimmune issues, and triggers heart attacks.
Hatred is the drug that kills, that is often mistaken for community, for connection, and it’s most effective camouflage—for righteous purpose.
Yet there is no such thing as righteous hatred. It’s just an acid that will kill every one of us, dissolving us to the core, leaving the shell empty.
Hatred is the armor of anger. Anger is the scaffolding of fear. Fear is the cloak of sadness worn by a heart that feels it shall never be seen, or valued, or known.
Beneath every person who chooses hatred as their mantle, there is a person who is terrified.
Hatred is the national flag for those who are scared; scared the world is changing into something they don’t understand. Scared of people different than they are—and they may not even know who they are. Scared no one ever heard or saw them, so they rage louder and louder and louder.
Hatred. The killer, the national flag of the terrified, the battlecry of those who fear being unseen.
Loving on someone who has chosen hatred, extending kindness to that person, then breaks that cycle. It causes the barometer of need within that person who is clinging to seething hatred as a connection to an ideal—to readjust itself, as they feel TRUE connection, with a human.
Kindness and love are the Cadillac of all connections.
An ideal is hollow compared to the simple understanding another persons extends to our heart, our humanity.
Those who choose hatred often don’t know there are other forms of connection. Of being valued. Of having a voice or finding purpose.
If we, as a society, wish to eradicate hatred, we must begin to see our population. Fully. In all it’s fear and ugliness. And we must be strong enough to see beneath those systematic sets of armor passed down for thousands of years, a set of lies that are supposed to keep us safe.
We must find within ourselves relentless kindness, unyielding compassion, and love that races past conditions.
And we must extend those attributes to those who do nothing to deserve them, expecting nothing but a disarmed bomb in return.
We become the alkaline base to the acid. We become the neutralizer.
Yet many of us house our own wounds, many of those wounds having been burned-in by the very hatred that we seek to extinguish. These wounds sense the hatred around us, and scream at us to stay away, stay safe.
To heal ourselves is to have the the strength, the stamina, and the desire, to help others heal.
To find true connection with ourself is to help others find true connection with themself.
Once we can all feel—once we stop pouring acid on the sensitive ends of our reaching fingers just to feel the tingle of being alive—then the connection of intertwining our fingers becomes the craving.
This is the challenge of hatred. To heal past our own wounds, in order to help others heal past theirs.
Just as we do not give up on those who are addicted to drugs while they purge the toxins from their system, neither should we give up on those who are addicted to the rush of hatred, as they purge the toxin from their system.
Addiction is addiction. And fear is a powerful drug.
Let us heal ourselves, have compassion for ourselves, love ourselves, so that when the time comes and we are called by life to help liberate another from the self-sustaining prison of hatred, we are able to do so.
Because it isn’t a myth that as a society, we are only as emotionally healthy as the person next to us. We will never all be the same. That’s not the nature of living beings. Our experiences differ and shape us accordingly. However, our hearts are all born from the same source, the same light, the same love.
And that is the lighthouse in this fog of chaos that shall keep all of us off the perilous rocks, waiting below to shred the floating underbelly of hope.
From Psychic / Medium Danielle Egnew 