Dear Inner Child,
So few memories of you, the remnants tarnished with your father’s anger or your cousin’s unwanted touch. It is so difficult to remember who we once were. I know your young soul grew tired too quickly; yet here you are. Persevering. Eight years past your first wish for death- an eternal sleep that could finally satisfy your weary soul. How inspiring you are to have kept going- kept fighting for the joy you know is out there.
I know you are tired. I know you don’t want to fight anymore, and I am ecstatic to tell you that all your hard work has finally paid off. You have built a community that nourishes your soul. Even on the sad days and throughout the disappointing moments of life, you have a collective around you ready to wrap you in their arms and shower you with affection until your smile once again lights up the room. Because you do. You light up every room you walk into. Your energy is so bright and magnetic. You draw people in with your glee. You have created a welcoming, loving, joyful environment that you so desperately wanted growing up. You are the peace you so desperately sought. You are the warmth and love your growing soul craved.
I am so proud of the independent, resilient, loving young woman you have grown into. Thank you for not giving up. Thank you for holding on even if it wasn’t always for you. Thank you for giving yourself- for giving present me and future us- a chance at the happiness you dreamed of every night. If not for you- for the hope burning within you, we would not have this community. We would not be creating our own home. We would not be able to fall asleep in his arms, steal the covers in the morning, and come home to a kiss on the cheek and dinner on the table.
I know you are so sad that you had to fight so long and so hard for this unconditional love. I realize a part of you still wishes that you felt this love growing up. I know a part of you is still angry that you had to love yourself and drag yourself through the harsh hurdles of life because the parents who were supposed to be there to cushion the blows turned their backs on you, too busy with their petty bickering. I know a part of you is guilty of the anger you feel inside because you recognize the hurt inner child within them that was not as strong as you- not strong enough to cherish their happiness or love every part of themselves as I love you.
Most days you might not think so, but that is my favorite thing about you. No matter what feelings of disdain you may hold for another seemingly shitty person, you see their wounds. You see the inner child within throwing a tantrum and you know the pain they face whether they tell you or not. You are so emotionally intelligent. I understand you may be angry that you cannot be as cold-blooded and petty as your sisters, but you are the warmth that melts the icy exterior. You are the gentle helping hand that allows the angry inner children around you to open up and heal what they have bottled up and hidden away from themselves for so long. Without your emotional intelligence, without the unconditional love you have to offer, this world would be so much crueler. Why would you want to contribute to the pain when you can heal it? You may not have a green thumb or magical healing food, but you have a warm heart and listening ears. You have a way with words and with people that can open their eyes to new perspectives and happier endings. You are the guiding light in such a dark world. I could not be prouder to be anyone else but you.

Love always,
Your Healing Self

Dearest Little One,

You were always full of wonder, asking questions with depth beyond your years. Why was I born a girl at this exact place in time in this exact spot on Earth? How does reincarnation work? Why do some people discriminate based on age, orientation, financial status, religion, and/or faith? Certainly love is the answer, knowing no bounds, waiting patiently for us if we only have the courage to look.

You always spoke your mind even if you didn’t know it was impolite according to societal norms or expectations. Even if you did, I know you would have been fearless and persistent in your self-expression. You have always been deeply spiritual and never questioned the beauty of your soul. Blessed with the freedom to find deity all around, you found your own moral compass that suited you as a dedicated truth seeker and lifelong learner. This has led you on a quest for growth that is never ending.

You’ve always been a dreamer, seeking solace in your books. But you also had your own creativity, always citing your imagination whenever someone questioned where you got those ideas from. You never lose sight of the value that comes with playing pretend. Keep dreaming of how the world can be a better place and never stop using that to craft your goals in life.

Your natural resilience pulled you through so many obstacles, even when you faltered in the darkest of times. But don’t worry little one, that’s waiting for you in your teens and beyond. Just know that I am waiting for you, and all will be well.

If only you could see us now, I have every confidence you would be as proud of us as I am of you. Nourishing you is what pulls me through and keeps me going. In seeking all the love and light and happiness you were robbed of in those formative years, I find that I am reclaiming the self-love that always came so naturally to you. Yes, I have no doubt that I have made you proud.

Love, Your Whole Self

Dear Unsealed,
I think about the times in life that I struggled to get through life financially and physically. There are numerous events in my 74 years that have either changed my life for the better or set me back a bit before concluding that everything will be okay in a bit.
Life is a survival of utmost importance to live my life according to my ideals and attitudes about my life experiences, people I meet on a day-to-day basis of reality. I have survived many relationships with men, friends, and acquaintances.
I survived an 11-year relationship with a Texas cowboy. June 2016, he moved his younger girlfriend into his bungalow in Fulton, Texas. I had decorated the house in my boho style furnishings and was feeling comfortable. His brother called me to tell me his brother was two-timing me. The next day my ex told me he was moving his girlfriend into the bungalow, and I would have to move. So, I said, “Wow, seriously after 11 years?” He did not respond.
I walked into my office, sat down to write a letter on my computer. I looked around at my cool new décor and almost cried. Then I heard him typing on his pc. I walked into the living room where he sat in front of his computer, chatting with his young girlfriend. They were exchanging love notes. So, I poured me a cup of coffee and walked back into my office. He had a doctor’s appointment that day. I waited for him to leave.
Upon his leaving I sat down at his pc, disabled his security system and other goodies to keep him safe that I had paid for forever. I got in my car and drove to the internet office. I explained what happened to the secretary at the office. So, they disabled the internet. I used my hot spot with my AT&T cell phone.
I drove home. He had returned home from his doctor’s appointment. He was desperately trying to start his pc. His pc was dead and so was the internet. He asked me, “Why did you do that? How will I chat with my girlfriend?” I told him, “Oh, maybe your new squeeze will fix it.” We did not talk much about anything after that moment.
I packed my bags with as many clothes and belongings as I could squeeze into my luggage. I packed the XBOX in my luggage. He was watching me. I did not care. I was done with his lies and carousing.
I had caught him in lies before but blew them off. We were never married. That was May 2016. I bought a ticket to LA. I sold my car. My friend picked me and my three suitcases up, my camera, my laptop to stay at her place before parting Rockport on a bus to Austin. I stayed with a friend in Austin who drove me to the train station. I rode the train over mountains, deserts, cities, towns to LA. Upon arriving in LA, I stepped off the train and bent down to kiss the ground.
I had been away from LA 13 years except for the vacation trips I took to visit my family and friends.
I was 66 years old. I sold my car, left half of my clothes, my family heirlooms, etc. in Fulton-Rockport, Texas. It was okay because I was home.
I survived other events too after arriving because life happens.
I stayed with my friends in LA awhile. I remember the day I left my friend’s apartment in North Hollywood to go to my son’s house in Irvine. Lyft dropped me off. I stepped out of the car to walk to my son’s front porch. I was towing three huge suitcases, a laptop, a camera, and my exhausted self into his house. I was 66 years old and humiliated that I was there in this manner of unfortunate circumstances. My son asked me, “Mom, hello. What did you do to Mike for him to kick you out?” I replied, “Nothing. He moved his girlfriend into the bungalow, so I had to leave, my name was not on the lease.” I ignored him. I asked him to help me with my luggage and show me to my room. So, he did that.
My relationship with his father ended in 1989. We were 180 degrees opposite. It was a horrible divorce. My dad was by my side during my divorce. There were so many tears.
So, after I arrived, I saw all my grandkids and concentrated on them, cherishing every minute I spent with each of them.
My story unfolds into so many avenues and freeways of life of being in different relationships with different men. I now know I can survive without a man. I do not need a man to create with, hang with ever again until I find one who is creative, truthful, caring and accepting of my ghost encounters and movie dreams of life.
The moral of the story is I do not want to go back to the 1950s when women were the property of their husbands. I refuse to go back. At 74 I survived two marriages and various relationships with people. Why go back now?
She goes
Where she strays
Across the roads
Of choices to take
In the wake
That she is older now
Too many men
Too many wrongdoing ones gone
So long.
She looks around her room as types away on her Lenovo laptop.
For what
To be alone to think about her life
As continues as an older woman
Of strife
Of joy, pain, happy times
As the clouds go away
The sun shines so close and so far, away
Surrounding her body
The bells chime
The music blares out of Alexa
LIFE IS GOOD!
A gypsy soul lives!

Dear Sara,

I am now forty-two years old, and I’ve traveled. I went to the Vatican, and I saw the Sistine Chapel, and I thought of painting with words and maps.

I want you to know that this journey was difficult, and it’s not apparent here in the writing. You were not always happy awn this journey, and you cried, because you wanted to be married to someone who was not the right man.

“And now you are happy,” says Papa. “And now you’re at peace,” says Papa.

So read what you have written here, and believe that God was forming you even then. And you dedicated your trip to a saint who loved you and loved the theatre also, and who loved to help couples find their way.

And now, read this, what you have written awn July 8th, 2007. Here is an excerpt:

“Of all the Renaissance artists, I find Michaelangelo the most fascinating. He was not liked by his contemporaries (Leonardo da Vinci, Bramante, etc.), probably because he was better than everyone else. Mich. was primarily a sculptor. Probably the best the world has ever seen. His Statue of David in Florence and the Peter at the St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican are spectacular. So when Pope Julius II asked Bramante who should paint the Sistine Chapel, he replied “Mich,” for he knew Mich was not a painter, so he was setting him up to fail. Mich. proposed the Pope a series of panels depicting scenes in the book of Genesis. He hired 4 workers from outside Rome to help him. Later, he fired these helpers, because he discovered that he did indeed know how to paint. Mich’s masterpiece is so interesting because in it, you see the development of a painter. The first panels were too detailed, too small, not as stylized. Later panels are larger and you can see the mastery of the artform that Mich. obtained during this 4 year project.”

Do you think it is a masterpiece though?
Let’s go again with St. Valentine and ask this question in the ether

Because the detail may be beautiful now

And let’s not call anything a masterpiece, and that will be brave

Because here are temporary things, even the planets

They are God’s handiwork, and they are spectacular, yes

And now the scene with me is after the flood and the people are awn a rock, and some are not awn the rock, and thank God we are safe now.

I think I need to see St. Peter again, quite frankly, because it’s David awn my mind, but St. Peter would be lovely to see, and would you like to see Florence again with a dear friend who loves St. Valentine?

I’ll continue when I can, and know that so many times, you were rescued awn this trip, and so many times you acted bravely, and your backpack is still with you, and so are these words in your journal

Be well, and love well