Recent Artworks (all 2016)


Once in awhile something will happen like a person will ask me who the artist is on one of my own pieces of work and I’ll realize that – while I talk a lot (I hardly shut up) … I don’t always talk enough about myself.

Here are recent artistic works (actually all still in progress)



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I love making memes.  I love working with images in general, but I love making memes.

Natural for a writer/photographer to want to see images and words combined.

I’ve begun adding my own quotes to some of my memes.  You can recognize those by the hashtag “who said that I suppose I did” in all lower case letters and with no spaces.

The hashtag itself is a quote from the movie Harold and Maude.

Maude: The earth is my body; my head is in the stars. 


Maude: Who said that, Harold? 

Harold: I don’t know. 

Maude: Well, I suppose I did, then.

I love sharing memes.  The jump to making my own happened naturally when I couldn’t find what I was looking for and knew I’d have to create one myself.  The jump to quoting myself came the same way.  I looked for somebody who had said what I wanted to say.    When I didn’t find one, I came to this sneaking conclusion:

If nobody is saying the thing you want to say, maybe you’re the one who is supposed to be saying it.


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The Meaning of Life

A couple of weeks back Blab with Elsie & Angie had Dr. Janeen Detrick on as a guest.  We talked about ACIM, Abraham-Hicks, processes, source/divine/jesus/self and things like that.  As I frequently say on my videos, I work best when I give you stories from my own life or my own perspective based on my experiences.

I have come to a personal understanding of the meaning of life from mentors, teachers and other students as well as my lifetime of experience.  My own personal understanding of the meaning of life is this:

We are infinite energy beings having a physical experience.  While we are our physical beings, we are also energy beings.  That energy planned certain aspects of our physical lifetimes.  An easy metaphor would be me planning a vacation.  The energetic me planned for a vacation as the physical me on earth; including personal curriculum, home team, faculty and students, loves and talents, passions and desires.  During my physical lifetime, energetic me has also planned new excursions and side trips based on the physical reactions energetic me couldn’t predict.  

See?  That’s why we have our physical experiences.  It’s like the tree in the forest unanswerable question.  (Except it CAN be answered.)  If a tree falls in a forest and there is no one to hear it, it does NOT produce a sound.  It produces a sound wave, which is the potential for sound, but with no one to receive it; it remains unheard.  We don’t like to think about systems we can’t physically look at and understand, but as life ticks forward it is becoming more and more the thing we need to understand.  (If we agree we need understand anything at all.)

Everything is energy.  You can think of it as 1s and 0s if you like, but it is all energy and the space between energy, which is simply another energy.  If everything is energy, then why do we need to have a physical experience?  It would be very easy to simply say:  to exist; but it seems to me, it is like drawing the plans for something on paper.  Sometimes you just can’t see the pitfalls or what needs to happen next until you make that drawing a 3 dimensional thing.

That’s us.

Sound waves are a form of energy.  Energy can be wave or a particle. However, when you begin reading about “The Observer Effect” you begin to get a feeling for how flibberty gibberty energy can be about whether or not it wants to be a wave or a particle.  It can actually switch just because you looked at it.  So for metaphor and comparison, let’s just think of it as a wave.  We know a sound wave remains just that unless there is something to receive it.  Isn’t life the same way?

Once we are physical beings there is a second half to the equation, though.  Frequency.  We only hear one frequency.  The one we are currently focused on.  Like a radio, we can change the station and we frequently do.   Sometimes by habit, sometimes by attrition, sometimes by choice.  The awareness we use to intentionally change our frequency depends upon the same awareness that it exists in the first place.  Conversely, the less we are aware of its existence, the more we are unaware of the possibility of other frequencies and other ways of seeing the world.  Empathy and life experience gives us windows to new frequencies while cataloging the emotional experiences of old ones.

Based on my experience, let’s consider emotional pain like electricity going through a piece of electronics.  The electronics has resistors to protect it from surges in electrical power.  The human has beliefs, habits, programs, all sorts of things that act as a resistor against emotional pain.  I have no idea the pitfalls in the electronics but with humans it is that we become lost in the constant aversion to anything unpleasant or painful.  At the very least if the resistors made the electronics cease to work, we would notice, but I think we lose some very basic and important human elements to our resistors.  I think it is a feature in the beginning and that we each face a personal moment where we adapt and grow or it becomes a serious bug.

Beyond that, we have designed an entire human ego-based empire based on word of mouth.  We live lives where we have an attitude we are somehow beyond or above life.  Hilarious when we are not just alive, but “life.”  If you were to make a list of all “life” on Earth, we would be on it.  Think about it.  All natural.  Gluten free.  Fat Free.  Monosodium Glutamate.   Whatever.

You were born a natural ingredient.  Act like one.  lol


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Shades of Anything But Gray

An insight into my creative process (at least for this project.)

I went to Mardi Gras in NOLA 2015.  I wanted to go again in 2016, but it was an early Mardi Gras this year and things just didn’t work out.  I belong to two Krewes and really want to attend in 2017.  For one of my krewes, I am dressing as the Cowardly Lion.  I got very excited about creating a female steampunk version of the character.  Since I was merging an original character with one of my own making, I decided I wanted to write a backstory for my cowardly lioness worth of L. Frank Baum himself.

(costume in progress)


One morning I wrote my lioness into a rather steamy bordello scene.  I was a bit surprised, but determined to follow my artistic instincts, I forged ahead until that afternoon, when it dawned on me that I wanted to illustrate my book.  For awhile I thought each image would carry a line of the book across its face.

The next day I realized the images I was creating WERE the project.  The whole project.

There is a whole lot more I could say about the work and if you have any questions, feel free to email me or comment.  In my mind these are divided into “The Girlfriend Experience,” “The Lovers” and “Kink.”  Some had titles that announced themselves in my head as I created them.

Last minute addition – Today’s Blab –


Blab with Elsie & Angie: Shades of Anything but Gray

Where I explain why I think I always drift to sex.  (Hint:  It’s all about alignment.)

Otherwise, you know what they say about a picture.

Please direct all inquiries to the artist –


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What No Longer Having A Uterus Has Taught Me

First, it hasn’t affected my sexual desire levels at all.  I always knew those were more than simply biology so I really wasn’t worried.

The surprise was how much stuff I blamed on my uterus.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt something and thought,

“That feels like I’m getting my period.”

Only to be stopped mid way with my own awareness that wasn’t possible.  Nowadays everything like that has been assigned to the stomach and gas pains.


I didn’t die.

I felt so resistant to losing a body part and really did a great job not to be resistant.  I did do a great job, but it still intimidated me.  Now, I no longer have my originally issued standard parts and I didn’t die.  Something about that is a game changer for me.

I don’t feel any less a woman.  In fact in terms of timing since I’ve never felt more loving, I’ve never felt more feminine.

The fibroid was negatively impacting my life and had been for a long time.  My body feels so much better having lost what it wasn’t supposed to have it barely notices something that should be there is missing.

Having surgery, whether lapro or full on, does not mean failure or that a miracle didn’t happen.  It doesn’t mean pain and discomfort.  It doesn’t have to mean anything bad.  If you really bone up on your art of allowance it can be as slight as if you were a lion and they were simply removing that typical thorn from your paw.  If you really bone up on your art of allowance, you may just gain far more than whatever you lost.

At least that’s my experience.

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Processing a Friend’s Transition

This was also written back in February 2016 with the intention of being incorporated into a book …

Today someone asked me if I knew what happened to my friend.  The one who recently died.

When we rekindled a friendship thirty years or more out of high school, we were like two stray cats who had once had kind homes.  We had distant memories of better things and were one moment away from a car hitting us or getting feline leukemia.  I built a new home for myself.  He drifted right to the precipice of no return.  Right to and apparently just a bit over.

I hadn’t known my friend in the years since high school and, truthfully, I got to know him than I had known him prior.  I found out he had a rough childhood.  Raised by a Hell’s Angel, he told me he suffered PTSD incidents at the sight of some wall heaters.

“He threw me into one.”  My friend said.

I wanted my friend to get therapy.  I was in therapy and had had EMDR treatment for PTSD.  Not for the first time, I compared my bad life with a friend’s bad life and found myself wanting.

That is exactly the muck I swam in at the time.  A world where you could compete for whose childhood sucked most!

Rule #3 – Never compete, even simply mentally, for something you don’t actually want.

Anyway, rough childhood.  Since he was the first guy to hit on me after I lost my relationship, we talked a lot about relationships. Like me he had already had “the big one.”  He too had already loved and lost, but he lost his to death.  A decade or so earlier he had met his “Mountain Mama,” as he called her.  A woman who could hunt, fish, gather and live off the land right beside him.  They lived in some sort of tent or cabin that would probably have felt very much like San Quentin to me had I had to live there and they were gloriously happy.  Then one day while she was shopping with a girl friend, she dropped dead from a brain aneurysm.  He was left with a very abrupt awareness that the last time he had seen her had already happened.

I could relate to that.  That part was exactly the same with my lost relationship.  I hadn’t known the last time I would see him as I lived it.

Let me tell you the secret.  It is like finding something in the last place we look for it.  You will never know it is the last moment of something as you are living it.  The secret is to be as present as possible.  To live in the moment.  To live as fully in the moment as you can.  Do that and you will be doing it instead of looking backwards with a nagging anxiety you could have lived more.

Anyway, while I’m empathizing with his loss, I sense mine hurts badly, but his is a virtual abyss.  I can spend hours of useless contemplation.  My fault?  His fault?  My fault?  I can appreciate my growth since then and hope my former partner has experienced the same, but my friend?  He has nothing.  All he can return to is “I wish I had kissed her a little bit longer that morning.”

I can empathize because I know that rough childhood has left him feeling isolated and alone in the world.  I know that just about everything in his world had become a comment about his self worth. I know he felt like a victim and was frequently disappointed with life.

What happened to my friend?

I think life is this swirling mixture of free will and predestination.  Abraham-Hicks says we chose the contrast in which we would be born and live our formative years.  We make our choice based on our goals or things we want to happen in this world.  The larger the goal, the deeper and darker the contrast.  I always feel like I can explain things like this better in equation.

Contrast (or being raised by a Hell’s Angel) = Predestination (P)

How we respond to our contrast = Free Will (F)

The multiplier of how much or how intense we have decided to take our contrast = (x)

The multiplier of how many different ways our free will can respond to that contrast (or roughly as many times again as x) = (y)

Assume that free will and predestination each affect 50 percent of our outcomes (in other words, 50 percent of our outcomes disagree with P or our source goals)  That 50% is drift = d.

P + F = x(y) – d

Just like our chakras if the equation is balanced, life flows.  It is the Art of Allowance in essence.  If the equation in unbalanced.  If we have too much drift from resistance or attachment, what once was like a beautiful waltz becomes more like a bullet’s ricochet.  We receive unexpected results, experience new contrast and create additional desires or goals.

Suddenly reading back what I have already written, I question if I am simply seeing things in black and white terms once again.  I remind myself:

I can’t do anything wrong.  In every instance I will either win or learn a lesson.

I don’t need to “know” my source goal or chosen contrast.  I can simply use my feelings as guidance along the way.

What happened to my friend is that the intensity of his contrast made his Ego disconnect from his emotions.  He used drugs to lesson his feelings.  My instincts tell me that people who do that, when their emotions get triggered, it can be very explosive.  I know this from experience, in part from the growth I experienced.  I know it also from witnessing my friend blow up at a very slight provocation.

My underlying assumptions are:

  1. Our emotions exist to guide us or are our GPS.  Paraphrased from Abraham-Hicks.)
  2. If our GPS breaks and we have no maps or directions to where we are going, we end up someplace else.
  3. Nature frequently sends an overkill amount of material to make something happen.  Simply think of how many sperms my friend’s Hell’s Angel father ejaculated to impregnate his mother’s one egg she ovulated that cycle.

Metaphorically, my friend’s human existence was closer to an ejaculate who missed the egg.  He lost his guidance system, missed fertilizing the egg (or destroying the Death Star if that is more fun for you) and was reabsorbed back into the system.

Essentially, my friend spun out of balance.   Have you ever watched something like that?  Eventually balance will return.  My friend’s death was his balance returning.  He had gotten so far out of balance that its return must have felt like a great relief to him.  I don’t need anyone to tell me he is ok now.  I know he is.

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Honoring a Friend

Written back in February – thought to be part of a future book …..


Today I am home from work, my eyes swollen from crying.  Yesterday I lost a friend.  I have cried at times inconsolably.  It is simply that he knew.  He knew things that I know.  We knew things that some of you, thankfully, will never know.  We are like soldiers who fought in a war, he and I, except I survived.

The heart chakra represents your vim and vigor, your essential fire for life.  While my Ego cries and despairs at all of my dead friend’s stories, I know it to be a simple case of a blocked chakra.  Like it would with a tiny tributary of a larger stream, the prolonged blockage caused the fundamental nature of my friend to change.  He could no longer live in the pressures of our world and the law of least resistance pulled him to a place where he could flow more easily.  While my Ego hopes that wherever he is, it feels like he’s fishing because that was what he loved best; I know everything is alright with him.  In the end, that’s what it really means to be pro-life, to be at peace with nature and the natural order of existence.  In the end, that is what it means to love.  To be at peace with existence while still thrilling at the wonders.  Brave in the face of the fallings away.

My Ego is still mad for my friend, though.  For him and the friend before that.  A woman who died much the same way.  As a child I lived in an isolated world where I felt only my portion was horrible.  As an adult I have witnessed the shell shocked adults that emerged from those other families tents.  As an adult I am simply grateful.  What else could I be?  I now know myself to be nearly miraculously lucky.  It took me until 50 to do it, but I finally “fell in love.”  He broke my heart, opened that chakra and the difference has been everything.

I’ve come to believe both that none of that was any accident, while it was also entirely possible that it never happened at all.  We are neither free will nor predestination.   We are an undulating creature of both.  We can influence our outcomes to be predominantly positive or negative through our own attitude and behavior.

I’m sitting here right now, Netflix and chilling.  It is a work day, but I decided I needed to take the time for myself.  When I first heard that my friend had died, I cried a little and thought that would be that.  Except then I realized I had an opportunity.

I have felt a ridiculous swelling of tears inside me for years now.  My therapist recommended I cry myself out in my boyfriend’s arms.  Not only did that not exhaust them, the demise of the relationship and following growth left me with more.  So for the first time in my life, I really threw myself into grieving a loss.  That was yesterday.  Since then, I created a tear filled public service announcement about PTSD for my daily video blog and watched a lot of episodes of Mad Men.

It feels right.  I’ve come to believe “meaning-invested-ritual” is the way to go on things like this.  What better way to honor a friend than watch the same Netflix stream you loaned to him on the sly for more than a year?  I had to let him change my password to do it.  The one he picked and could remember turned out to be “ANGIElove.”  For more than a year it was my Netflix, but only he watched it.

It’s such a tiny thing.  Nothing at all, but I feel good about it.  It was an act of love, without judgement and asking nothing in return.  One of my finest moments. Now that I no longer suffer the discomforting itch of not being good enough or loving myself, it has not escaped my notice that I feel most loved when I am loving rather than looking for love in return.

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What You Look For – You Tend To See

I believe that we are energy.  I believe energy is our source (which we entitled God and mistakenly believed was outside ourselves.)  I believe We are God.  You are.  I am.  Everybody is.  I believe that you can learn about how our energy works and improve the quality of the lessons we are faced with in life.  Through reading Anodea Judith, I learned that personal growth can come either “top down” or intellectually through a crown chakra that was encouraged to be open during childhood or “bottom up” or through energy or physical methods through a root chakra that is nurtured and encouraged to be open.  The minute I heard about these possibilities, I knew I was a “top down.”  According to Judith’s theory, my root chakra took a hit being born prematurely and living in an incubator before I even met my parents, but my crown chakra, which is about spirituality and religion, was given only one real rule and boundary.

God is love.

My parents belonged to the Christian Science church, but they never attended.  I only attended Sunday School there for one year.  Other than that, my Sunday church was usually spent outside in the sun.  I realized when my mother took to her death bed, my parents really hadn’t done any due diligence on their choice of religion because it seemed they didn’t know very much about it.  My mother had received weekly teachings by mail but routinely failed the Albert Einstein test of being able to explain it to someone else when I would ask anything about it.

In 2008 my mother had a stroke.  Her style of Christian Science didn’t look too much different from denial.  I was out of town when it happened and returned home to that answering machine message.  The one where someone in your family has had something that has forever changed them and you are hearing about it days later.  I had been on vacation in Vegas.  I had a cell phone with me.  My father never called it.  The word “stroke” was cautiously whispered while I was informed the my mother believed she only fell.  She no longer could straighten her left arm fully, but it was only a fall.  My cousin, who lived about 1 block away from my parents, did receive a call and was present when the paramedics arrived.  According to my cousin, my mother said the one thing, whatever that is, that ties a paramedics hands and requires them to leave you, untreated, where they found you.

The first thing I did when I got back from Vegas was buy a new bed for my mother.  Then my father and my significant other/aka fellow I worked with at the time, moved my mother downstairs into my old bedroom.  The only time she left it was two years later when she died.  She never received any treatment other than a Christian Science Practitioner who would come to the house every week or so.  When she was coherent, which seemed a little less than half the time, she would tell the Practitioner how people were telling her she had had a stroke.  Said in tones of course, suggesting that the people telling her she had had a stroke WERE the root of all of her problems.

I grew up familiar with the concept that our reality was not necessarily real even if I wasn’t quite onboard with my mother’s waved hand while she said “None of this is real.  It’s all just an illusion.”  Things felt pretty solid for not being real.  It certainly didn’t feel like we were causing or had ordered up a stroke.  We simply witnessed the outcome and labeled it.

After my mother died, my father studied Christian Science in huge hand and mouthfuls.  He took a class with the practitioner, almost continuing on to become a practitioner.  He filled his iPad with Spinoza and other philosophers I had never heard of before and talked about almost nothing else.  The next thing I knew he had a stroke.

I felt like a sleeper cell who had been called into action.

Most of the things I had been terrified about while picturing that day did not come to fruition.  Unlike my mother, my father didn’t fight the paramedics and I watched him arrive by ambulance to the hospital.  I didn’t have to explain a murder/suicide.  No one asked me “to put them out of their misery” or kill them.  I didn’t have to beg my dad to be treated.  None of those fears happened, while things I hadn’t thought about did.

My father’s body was not frozen from the stroke, but his brain took a hit.  His memory was all over the place and sometimes he couldn’t think of what word he wanted to say.  Sometimes he simply said “Sine-aid” instead.  I’d lived a life where I didn’t feel like I had very many rights on my parents front and now got treated to a lecture from the staff at the Rehab Center he went to about how HE had rights.  That happened because I wanted to meet with them privately to discuss his future.  I wanted to meet privately because I was terrified what he might do or say at that meeting. Instead he was wheeled in, looking almost triumphant and grinning.  I was gutted, but tried to sit calmly and not look like as if life had handed me a turd.

I don’t think the meeting really came out any differently than it would have anyway.

We brought him back home outside of Calistoga where he lived with his yellow lab Archie.  I arranged for caregivers to come in for about four hours every week day.  I tried to visit him every weekend.


It wasn’t easy.

I hated being there most of the time.  After he died, I learned the notion that I had been self perpetuating his attitude on my own end.  Or, when someone shows you how bad they can be, you can end up only being able to see them in those terms.  I only realized I had done a bit of that in hindsight, but I also had quite a bit of head wind.

His doctor, as a Christian Scientist he had never had one of those before, diagnosed him as having dementia due to the stroke.  The diagnosis caused an immediate revocation of his driver’s license.  I was glad for the letter informing him that was the case because until I showed him that, I was always the bad guy who wouldn’t let him drive.

HIs memory was so scattered I was afraid he would wake up one morning and drive to his old place of employment, Mare Island, which was a 40 minute drive that had changed significantly since the last time he had driven it more than 20 years prior.  As usual, my fears were unfounded, but at the same time he did drive by himself several times, or so he claimed.  While he was still at the Rehab Center, I had tried to confiscate all of his guns.  (Growing up there was at least one in every room in the house and I was always supposed to assume they were loaded.)  I never could prove whether he drove the car or not, but he shot a heron with a gun he had successfully hidden from me..  He didn’t just claim to shoot the bird, a caregiver, one of his best incidentally, was standing next to him on the porch when he did it and ended up quitting for the same reason.  Friends and romantic partners thought my father was hysterical.  I thought he was a nightmare and wondered why everything just had to be so hard.

He started getting constipation problems from his various medications.  I brought him some sort of medicine for it on the weekend and by Monday, he wanted me to get him some more.  I read the instructions on the medicine he already had and told him he hadn’t given it time to work yet.  I said if it didn’t work then I would get him some more, but give it a chance to work.

He said, “So it’s like that then?”

Eerily, I heard the sentence underneath which was something like “you’re leaving me to die then?”

Nothing different than good old co-dependent guilt dished up and served.

“Yes.  it’s like that then.”

The next weekend at some point he delivered a line that he was dying, but it was said very non emotionally.  Quietly.  Matter of factly.  The truth is I don’t think it was a month later that a caregiver called and said he wasn’t doing very well and she was going to call for an ambulance.  I never really even understood what was wrong with him during that last trip to the hospital.  I think the medications had caused a bleeding ulcer, but truthfully the way he ate aspirin all of his life, I’d be surprised if he hadn’t already had an undiagnosed one.  I visited him at the hospital, an Adventist hospital in Angwin.  At one point I stood outside on a large veranda and marveled at the view.  I’d lived in the Napa Valley since I was three years old, but it took my father’s death to see one of the most extraordinarily beautiful views.  While I looked at it, I mostly thought about how lucky my father was to be at a hospital where he could witness THAT view from his window rather than look at a city street or a brick wall.

The last time I saw my father was at the convalescent hospital they sent him to afterwards.  He has written his roommates name and address down on a piece of paper and wants to keep in touch when they get release.  He looks small, like a little boy watching tv, when I leave the room.  Somewhere in the middle of the night, around 4 am, an attendant called.  She was so shy about what she was saying I had to ask her point blank if she meant my father had died.

I always got hurt by my parents because I had long ago learned that they were hurtful and I just couldn’t see them any other way.  I couldn’t even imagine there was another way to see them.  My energy, whether it was in response originally to their energy, now called their energy to respond.  I see that now.

My mother used to throw out cereal a little too early for my father’s tastes.  She was afraid of bugs.  He said, “It’s like you’re LOOKING for bugs.”


What you look for, you tend to see.


A couple of years back I attended a Mardi Gras BBQ up in Calistoga.  One high school friend had invited me and I ran into several others.  I don’t want mention names because there literally is no point in doing so.  One of the people was the brother of a high school friend who had died.  As I talked with he and one of his sisters who was also at the event, I suddenly realized a couple of things.

First, the sister received me fondly.  She was friendly and sweet and clearly enjoying the nostalgia.  Second, the brother might as well have hated me.  It was clear that, despite the fact I hadn’t seen my friend for more than ten years prior to her death, her brother thought I should have done something more than I had.  (Essentially I had done nothing as I had heard about everything after the fact and hadn’t seen the family in even longer than it had been for the friend.)  I was friends with the brother on Facebook and I had never sensed anything, but in person, it was clear he thought I was a pretty bad and selfish person.  I chose to keep my distance.

About a year after that, the brother posted a “We Fund” campaign on Facebook for his daughter.  She wanted to travel to Europe or some place as part of a school choir or sporting event.  I like contributing to that sort of fund and I hurried over there.  I’m sure I thought I could make up for the slight by helping my friend’s niece.

The campaign wouldn’t take my money.

Remember I said I liked to give to that sort of fund.  I’ve contributed before, but that campaign wouldn’t take my money.  I think I even found another campaign, a similar one benefitting a complete stranger, and donated just to prove it could work.  I’m pretty sure I did.  After I had tried about three times, I shyly contacted the brother and told him that something wasn’t working in the link.  I told him it wouldn’t let me donate.

“It took MY money.”  He said.

I tried one more time after that in case it had been broken and his donation had signaled it was working again.  Energy is a really amazing thing.  I don’t think he specified, don’t take money from this woman and named me or anything, but I think his energy blocked that money.  I almost wish I had sent a friend who didn’t know anything about the family to the link and had them donate.  I’m betting it still wouldn’t have worked.  I think his energy blocked that money because he didn’t want anything to do with me, even if it could benefit his daughter.

My path has become a two fold one.  First, to learn to never block any beneficial things heading my way with my own negative energy.  Second, to not see that others have done just that.

To see it, to recognize its existence, is to perpetuate its existence.

What you look for, you tend to see.

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