Stix

Don't judge us,

By the way we eat our Orange Sticks.

Happy Solstice New Year to Us!

 Happy Solstice Aimee,

Today I took the family to DreamScapes to paint a mural. Baby Sister decided she was ready to paint her portion. She sang a few songs and hummed to herself as she got her hands messy in the paint. Her favorite colors to use were orange and red. She says she wants to paint again next time we go, so that she can finish. I am so proud of her and the way she has handled meeting our other parts. She is brave with scary things, like saying hi to spiders, walking in the dark, and being away from Nova. 

I got to add detail to my part of the mural. We added the second layer of paint. The books look especially cool and it was fun to shape the dimension of the mural with the extra rock garden details. 

It feels so amazing to paint again. To paint in a more serious way. 

To Express ourselves on the wall. 

We took time to chat with new friends. Artists that work on the rest of Dreamscapes. It's been fun to be around new friends that are individual, kind, creative, generous, self-loving, and good at healthy boundaries. 

Grateful to have passed the new year celebrating with all our pieces working together, in balanced harmony by the fire. 2025 is looking like it's going to be a really fantastic year. Filled with love, creative compassion, and strong family bonds. 

I am happy to have you as a piece of us, and hope that you know how much everyone loves you. 

All my love,

-Aimes

12/21/24

(12/23/24)

Selfish Justice For All

Today I was pulled back to my bed with the allure of morning psychic snuggles with a past passion flame. What I loved most about him visiting me was the great amount of respect I felt from his offer. He did not blindly take over my mind with pornographic thoughts, but rather, gently pulled me into his arms and nuzzled his nose against mine. 

A refreshing change from the past him I have known. 

The Etta James song, "Sunday Kind of Love" came to mind and after enjoying a few soft moments snuggling I turned the song on and went downstairs to do the dishes. He followed me down observing the way that I enjoy singing and dancing while I wash dishes. I never showed him this side of me. 

We never fully opened up to each other, exposing all sides of ourselves. To do that takes time, and great healing. It is un accomplishable with a one night stand; Our unfortunate first meeting. 

I am sorry for seeing him when I looked at you. For thinking of him when we intimately connected. My feelings for you eventually took their own roots growing into their own authentic feelings. The initial treachery still took place. 

I know you want forgiveness for selling us. You asked my permission to record every time we bedded each other. Each time I said, "no" I tried to trust that you were honorably listening. I desired to believe in your ability to choose me, us and freedom from the evil powers that promise temporary salvation. 

Red flags connecting you and my foster family caused fear to grow inside me. 

What is stopping me from finding a warrior that cannot be bought?

What is holding me back from having boundaries that will separate me from those who wish to enslave me in their will?

I can feel your desire to heal and to make things right. I encourage you to remove yourself of all you have gained off the sweat of others. 

Not only justice for me or for us; Justice for all. 

Come to me with nothing but your honor and your willingness to connect authentically in a space of truthful healing, desire to grow together, a creative capacity to flourish through change and I will contemplate our compatibility. 

I am working to bring deep peace to my soul. 

I wish the same for you. 

You have many qualities I admire. Sexually speaking, I do not have to explain in any large way how you satisfy me, that part came naturally. 

You are good at speaking to my soul. I fondly remember time spent talking with you, laughing with you. 

I love your drive to make something of yourself - The few moments we lightly argued on set about the way snow might or might not look in a realistic setting showed me that we have the ability to challenge each other well. 

Outside of the bedroom, I really don't know what you like about me. I do not feel secure that I was able to show you anything concrete to hold onto. Did I ever get the chance to show you anything about myself that could one day bring you back to me? 

Have I ever shown the dimensions of my soul to a lover that would draw them to fully choose me over the allure of gaining a profit off of me? 

Shadow work still left to do, I see. 

It hurt my heart when you withdrew connection and left an eternal space between us. Rihanna's "California King Bed" lyrics come to mind. It hurt when you only reached out to connect sexually and that you never saw more substance within me - or never found reasons to miss me. I used my hurt to withdraw from you in turn. Creating a boundary that stopped me from ever entering your bed again. 

If we find our way back to one another I hope we never lose our authentic voice within the process. I hope we forever challenge one another regardless of wether it ever moves to a greater level of intimacy than friendship. I hope to teach each other through the art of discussion and to spread love, peace, and blessings. 

Sending all my best,

-À

P.s. "Want to see my art?" Isn't an invitation to have sex. I actually create art and I'm very proud of it. I'm even quite selective on who I show it to. :)

P.s.s. What is something you would show me, if you ever got the chance?

11/10/2024

Two Paths Diverged in the Wood

It's the fall of 2009, I don't recall how we met, or how it began. I recall how it ended - He told me I was too wild for him. 

I only have a few memories to hold onto as proof that our short lived love affair existed. Stolen moments making out on the cream colored couch at my sisters house in Cedar City, Utah. I liked it when you wore your basket ball shorts, I'm sure you know why. A conversation about running and how you didn't understand how I could run to music with such an intense beat, you needed calmer music to run to. A vague memory of you not liking the wild way I woke up around friends. Changing from the fun-loving aunt that I usually was around my nephew. 

I can see your dark hair, taller stature, thin frame, and calm intellect. Your face is hidden from me. Every time I work to nail down facial features your face is hidden in shadows and smoke. I remember your energy and how I felt safe in your arms. 

I remember you rejecting me. 

.

Jump to Fall 2024, I am recovering from a lifetime of servitude to a world that dissected me into the smallest pieces in order to gain the largest value from me. It's wildly apparent that all the men (and some women) in my life have gained something large off of spending time with me, off of selling me. A vague memory of you passes through my mind. 

I think fondly of you and have the nerve to offer that it's possible that you exited my life quickly due to not wanting to participate in that world. The world that required the selling of souls. 

Last night your spirit visited my mind. You traveled to my home and wished to speak with me energetically. You have a debt to recover - You wish to make things right. This confuses me because of the smoke that surrounds us, you, and that time of my life. 

You help me remember; Peeling back the curtain of smoke enough for me to see that we did more sexually then I ever knew. I see the children born from my womb that Winter/Spring, at least two. My sister adopted one - Henry. The other was sold as an outside adoption. 

My body physically hurts in the here and now. My womb is on fire, symptoms of constipation, a sharp pain in my lower back and abdomen, restless legs, pressure in my anus, painful hips, hunger, and immense grief. 

My cries reached all the ends of the world; Releasing the pent up grief - My mind screamed louder at you. 

As the most painful parts passed I relaxed into a heavy depression. You wanted to make it better - you wanted to connect sexually and for everything to be okay; Kiss and make up. You want to make it all right - to be forgiven for selling our child, and abandoning me for??

Satans promise of success. 

I have spent a decade and a half being tortured by you. I am in no mood to release you from your guilt and pain. 

If you have the balls to stand before me and apologize like the warrior you wish to be. I will consider forgiving you.

-À

P.s. Where is our son?

P.s.s I like your Wild Things...

11/08/2024

Peace. Love. & Blessings.

 I wish you wellness,

Peace, and healing. 

May you choose to honor the light at your core,

I trust that there is enough to spark change within you.

.

May you cherish the family you are surrounded with,

May you love yourself,

Truly seeing the mirror. 

.

I cannot lift the heaviness that burdens your shoulders.

I cannot heal your past wounds; Trust broken by those meant to honor and love.

I can only heal inward in self-love.

I can only do the work necessary for my growth,

Change,

Loyalty.

May you thrive in your service to others.

Always with love,

-À

10/31/2024

Challenging Perspective

 I cannot want, wish, desire,

Without them catching up to me.

I cannot dream with wild intent,

Without them taking the seed and sowing it in their plot of land. 

I cannot walk down the road,

without them taking a chance to ensnare.

.

We are not for sale.

Our labor is not free.

Our soul cannot be enslaved. 

.

We sit in the dark.

Alone,

Directionless,

Our circle of light blown out in the strong winds of change.

.

We hold onto our dimly lit candle. 

Trusting,

Blindly,

It will not blow out. 

We are stronger than our darkest hour.

.

We know the powerful are capable of 

spreading darkness,

and taking our creative light.

They have done it before.

To her, him, them.

.

Borrowed lyrics,

Replica paintings,

Someone is deemed worthy to exist based on willingness to morph to Satans will. 

Others are cast off, 

Existing in shadow lands,

Only remembered when the well of ideas runs dry.

.

The show must go on.

"Inspired by".

They let you create the whole thing because they trust you.

...Lies we tell ourselves in order to not take responsibility for the art we have stolen. 

.

It is not difficult to not take credit for others work. 

It is not difficult to share in the spoils created by the work. 

.

It is difficult to stand alone on the end of a pier,

Choosing to watch the party boat sale by,

Knowing that the souls inside never chose us,

It is easier to turn our backs and choose self-love.

.

I remembered today.

Remembered how you gave me something to forget,

Laid me on the couch in your basement,

Raping me first in the mouth,

Taking your chance to impregnate me with your selfishness.

.

I ran for you,

I chose outfits for you,

I dissected her character, 

memorized lines,

cried deeply in the name of art.

.

We created a movie, 

I believed innocence had fueled our efforts,

You, the director, initiated me without consent.

.

I do not forgive you.

I am desperate to know what became of our baby. 

I do not understand what brings a person to sell their child,

Having been sold since infancy,

It is an unfortunate path I know well.

.

The experts have a clearly defined,

Articulate way of explaining Domestic Trafficking. 

I have my own way.

.

Mine looks like a happy home,

Where children think they go to sleep every night,

Waking up fresh-faced to attack their day,

.

It looks like believing that you were born to your parents,

Never being told that you were Fostered by them.

.

Every Holiday brings with it visions, 

Memories,

Energetic stamps of the evil that they will on their victims.

.

They implant fear, 

Lust,

Anger,

They claim deep love,

Doing all they can to build up a strong case to prove all they claim.

.

All friends, 

and other social encounters are planted in our path.

I have never dated a male that wasn't invested in selling me to the highest bidder.

I called them dates,

Boyfriends,

Partners,

Husbands. 

.

I live in a constant state of vulnerability. 

Even today,

with a team of individuals who are trained to care for sexual trafficking survivors,

I am vulnerable.

I am lonely.

.

I have never had a friend,

One that values freedom,

Liberty,

Growth,

Change,

The way that I do.

.

My bed is my favorite place.

I am safe there.

I know that I am not being sold in my bed anymore.

My room is my safe haven.

I know that my child is safe within my room.

These truths have not always been true.

.

We think of sexual trafficking as horrific acts of violence,

Each real encounter leaving us shattered to our core,

.

I challenge the "normal" idea,

As we know it,

That sex trafficking is one dimensional,

That it cannot happen within the heart of a home.

.

If all I have ever known,

Since infancy,

Is sexual trafficking,

Than how was I ever to identify,

That it continued to happen to me,

And others around me,

For the following 30 years?

.

Powerful people do not wish to be identified as perpetrators,

So they use everything at their disposal,

To ensure that their faces remain out of the spotlight.

.

In my case this meant being given Dissociative drugs,

Strong tranquilizers,

Gaslighting by family members,

Friends,

Neighbors,

Cousins,

Aunts,

Uncles,

Siblings,

etc...

.

The cherry on the top?

I have Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Which clinically speaking,

Means my biological father,

regularly sexually assaulted me,

From infancy,

all through my growing-formative years.

He was not willing to step up to the plate and raise me outright.

He allowed others to claim me as their own,

They took their turns raping me as well,

He saved his visits for special occasions,

Hollidays,

Times when he could sneak away from his shiny life,

His chosen family,

To ensure longevity within his silent income.

I was the silence,

Clinging to a reality,

That bore no fruit.

.

I entered the professional porn industry at the age of 9,

My foster parents took me to film studios,

Various locations,

including my very own bedroom at times,

Or the living room couch,

Always during night hours. 

.

If I woke up tired,

Confused,

Not sure why I had no energy,

Or depressed,

I was met with temporary concern,

and told to take better care of myself regarding my bed time.

.

As my film career grew,

So did my appeal for in-home visits.

I paid for my violin,

Violin lessons,

Dental care,

Any other talent I needed to take lessons for,

And all other expenses that my existence created.

.

Yet, We never seemed to have enough money.

I was required to work for my Foster Dads Construction Company during Summer breaks.

I took up a W-2 job as soon as I was of legal working age. 

I spent money faster than I made it,

I was reminded that I can't be trusted with money,

That I will always need a family member to bail me out. 

That I cannot survive without them.

.

I have deep core beliefs that have kept me from personal success.

Core beliefs that have kept me glued to the hips of abusers,

I will all of it to change.

I will myself to become more capable of managing my money,

I will myself to enjoy needing those that have earned a healthy,

Non-abusive spot in my life.

I will myself to forgive the younger pieces of myself that could not see the abuse that was artfully hidden from my sight.

I choose to forgive within the boundaries of self-love,

Prioritizing authentic connections based in unconditional love. 

.

I choose love. 

Above all else,

I choose patient adoration.

For all of me. 

Especially the pieces that have lived in the shadows of shame. 

-À

10/18/2024

.

Friendship

 Friendship,  

                                      thy essence is a sweet summer melon.

                          -À 10/09/24

                                         

Swiftly, I Release Thee

 As thorny roses cannot forever hold precious petals to their centers,

                    As surely as waterfalls gush,

                                                insects parish swiftly,

                                                               Sun and Moon shift seamlessly,

so too, shall I release thee. 

May the New Moon in Libra cast not a shadow on the light filling the bosoms of those held in traumatized captivity. 

May all who have been trafficked, by those in seats filled with immense power, be released from the bondage, ignorance, and long held silence that has kept them there. 

May we that long for strength in balance find it at our very core. 

May great healing come to those that have grown weary in the war we have waged in the shadows. 

-À

10/01/2024

Motherhood, Fatherhood; Autumn Equinox

     Tonight, we celebrate with incense, watercolors on paper, and gratitude for a safe, sleeping cat. Last Friday, Nova wasn't waiting by the door to be let in for breakfast. I became frantic. Where is my child? Why did I allow her out last night - damn what she wants - if I ever find her, she's never going outside without me again. 

God, please let me find her...alive. 

    Tonight, she has successfully begun moving about the room despite a lame left leg. Currently, she is curled up -asleep, which hasn't happened since before her mysterious accident that left her highly traumatized, unable to eat, walk, or play. 

    Parenthood is a hard profession, only made harder when done as a single parent. 

    Last night, I walked outside to throw out the soiled cardboard she had peed on. She is barely able to get herself into the litter box pan, without assistance, she didn't quite make it all the way in. I live for moments to serve her. I live for moments to hold her, to sing to her, to remind her that I am here and that I love her. 

    A shooting star flew across the sky straight in front of me. To my right the large beautiful half moon rose up over the mountains. I felt my heart jump start - Something amazing is on its way. 

    As I dive deeper into therapy, as I learn more about why my brain forgets why we left one room and entered another. Why I leave the house and second guess if Ive locked up properly. Why we have memories that keep us from dream filled, peacefully sleep. Why pieces of us are living in the shadows created by the rays of light that shoot from our fingertips. 

    I understand why I will never find a healthy man to occupy the empty fatherhood seat at our table - Never find him, hold him, cherish him, because our father chose to betray us, our mother, and himself. 

    As we seek to embrace our darker pieces, never to shame them again - Our light filled pieces finding comfort and understanding within a balanced whole -

    we start to believe that someday, as a healed human, maybe we will find peace within fatherhood. 

    For now, I don't forgive him for harming us the way he did. I don't forgive him for casting our mother aside and choosing another woman over her, many other women. I don't forgive him for allowing us to be fostered by a family that raped, lied, stole, forced labor, sold, abused. All behind the guise of a light filled, love-centered home. 

    I do not forgive my foster parents for choosing to participate in the satanic darkness that plagues them. 

    I do not forgive my foster siblings for participating, for turning a blind eye, for accepting the bribes. I do not forgive them for stealing my children from my womb, to raise them as their own, 

    in front of my blind eyes. 

    I do not forgive the traumatized boys that have lied about committing to forever with me, and then choosing to walk away. I do not forgive them because they chose cowardice, instead of becoming a warrior - to grow and heal along side me. 

    I do not forgive the men and women that have actively participated in raping, selling, and stealing from me. 

    I do, however, choose to forgive those, including myself, who were groomed from infancy to participate in evil. I forgive myself, and all others who did not understand the veil of smoke that clouded the mirror in front of us. 

    I forgive us, and I champion us for choosing to clear the smoke, look the mirror dead straight in the face and choose to be a warrior that has the strength to swim upstream. Like Kitty in Monsters Inc. Who chooses to protect Boo instead of terrifying her. Kitty chose to be a protector and with the help of a trusted friend, he set about changing the world he resided in. He did not back down when it became difficult - he did not turn from protector to abuser. He got creative, embraced change, led with love, and helped the whole company understand that laughter was more powerful than screams. 

.

    They say that God goes by many names. I go by many names, not because I cannot decide who I am, or because I want some to know me by one name, and not another. 

    I go by many names because of life long human trafficking disguised as "family". I go by many names because trauma has spliced me into thousands of pieces. Pieces that are real, have their own identities, likes and dislikes. 

    The experts call this Dissociative Identity Disorder.  The Bible calls it, "God, Elohim, Adonai, El Shaddai, Jehovah Rapha"....etc. 

    I used to have big questions about where we come from. I never knew at that time that I was a foster child. As I have learned more about me - my questions have turned from questioning our creation to learning to ask questions within - To call all my pieces to the table and give them chances to speak up about their lived experiences. Allowing them to fill me in on our missing time, the pieces of our lives that we cannot remember, has brought a new level of peace to our lives. A fresh understanding of where our deep grief, hate, anger, depression, and suicidal ideations come from. 

    I have heard it said that the dark cannot exist without the light. 

   This is not an excuse for darkness to abuse without the light paying attention and casting its rays upon it. 

    Light can be warm, healing, and show us the way. It can also be harsh, un yielding, and burn. 

    Shadows can be cool, a relief from harsh rays, and allow us to rest. Darkness can be cold, withholding, and filled with relentless depth - a way to lose ourselves. 

Today, I am most grateful for days and nights filled with balance as we experience within the Autumn Equinox. For a period of time, shadows do not dominate the light, and light does not out will the darkness. They exist within harmony of each other. 

    May we all find peace with our Fathers and Mothers; That we may become the healing we wish to see in the world. 

    May we love, cherish, hold tightly our beloved children. May all who have lost their children find them once again - someday, through the grace of God. 

    May our homes forever be sanctuaries for our loved ones to experience peace, protection, warmth, and love. 

    May shooting stars guide our deepest wishes for a balanced, healed world to the powers residing in all directions. That all the elements combine to create our glorified world. 

Someday, we will be the mother we always believed we could be and more. 

Someday, a father will heal himself enough to embrace us with his truths. 

Someday, we will have a whole, balanced family. 

-À

May you thrive in your service to others,

Create. Grow. Change. Liberty. 

   

    

Flowing With The Elements

 We opened our computer,

a phrase in our head.

Ready to type 

We

blanked as the screen grew bright.

we've never known the sweet tender kiss

Of real therapy.

.

The kind that doesn't back down

or give up.

The kind that centers in love

feeling its way up the energy centers 

until it shoots us up past the moon

to the very brightest star

who waits

hand outstretched

to carry us home.

.

It's been ages since we've felt 

powerful. 

The kind of power that is

soft and energetically gay.

.

It's been eons since we've known peace.

Safety wrapped in protective knowledge. 

We praise our ancestors for walking their well worn souls

to the beating rhythm of their hearts.

.

May the fathers embrace their children in protective freedom.

May the Mothers teach with compassion, breathe, and wisdom.

May the children find passion for the future. 

That we may all flow with the elements to carve out our own patch of heaven.

.

May you thrive in your efforts to serve,

-À

Create. Grow. Change. Liberty. 

Sold Us Short

 I thought you were an actress...

                                     

                                                                I thought this was real.

-À

Tangible Subtext

I love you. 

                                                                                                                                                          

                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Why?

                                                     -À 

Wind Song, An Original Poem by, A.R.P

Today, I woke up with a song forming in my soul. 

Enjoying my creamed coffee on the terrace, 

The morning sun,

Beating steady to the rhythm forming in my throat.

Nova played in the flower beds, 

Triumphantly scaling the large tree that stands before the house. 

While collecting my second cup of coffee

My violin found its way with me, 

And together, 

We played with the wind. 

.

-À

5,000 Years of Art; My Review of Shen Yun... and other musings.

I looked down the barrel of the ten year mark and realized that I had been wishing to experience Shen Yun ever since I first saw their billboard while driving through the streets of Belmont, MA with my sister Jenni. 

Remembering Jenni is more joyous these days than hateful, however, despite the great amount of healing that has taken place within me, I know that dissociation has a way of taking hold and limiting my emotions from fully manifesting. 

She did not deserve to pass so mysteriously. Gone in the night with little to no accountability from medical "hero's" tasked with guarding her. Our children left in the hands of the abuser that wished her dead. This tragedy is far more layered than I can fully articulate on this page; The layers of onion chopped haphazardly and left to sizzle on the oiled pan, unattended, blackened and bruised. 

May justice prevail. May freedom ring. May Children own their rights. 

This review of Shen Yun is dedicated to her memory, and to all the lost artists that have found themselves buried under the heavy patriarchy. 

Jenni, I love you ALWAYS.

.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    

Ive begun to date myself in anticipation that IF I wish to open myself up to someone else in a dating capacity, that I must first have a foundation of self-love established. Keeping in the theme of looking down the 10 year scope, i've been here before, although, I understood my scars much less back then. 

I found the Shen Yun booth while working at the Home and Garden Show being held at the Mountain America Expo Center in Sandy, UT. The women selling the tickets had a vivacious energy that exuded from their very cores. The anticipation that had built within me towards the culturally charged show left little room for their sales technique; I sold myself on the show. 

I saved the date, set a few reminder alarms so that all of me would remember our date and I headed back to the booth I was helping run for the weekend. The rest of my work day passed quickly, and I felt buoyed up despite the heavy co-workers that surrounded me. 

The night of March 20th arrived quickly. I dressed to impress myself, choosing each layer with care. I first met up with some loved ones to support family who is experiencing a tragedy. A death has come too soon. When Jenni died I cried often, and without restraint. On this occasion, I felt the pain of those who the deceased left behind and all I felt in turn was an icy numb. I know it well as dissociation, an obvious indicator that I have much to feel. 

A few hugs later, I zoomed downtown to find the nearest free parking to the ECCLES Theatre on Main Street, Downtown SLC, UT. The theatre lobby is warmly lit, a drastic change from cold Spring that lingers just outside the glass doors. I wore my Lucky Red Leather Jacket, one of Arista's favorite pieces to wear, and brought a book to read incase Aimes needs to detach from the crowd. Aimee wanted snacks, but À knew that its much better to respect curtain call. Snacks can wait, artists ready to share a story will not. 

Despite arriving minutes before the curtain was set to rise, I was the first to sit in the row of seats. The other ticket holders arrived. To my right a family of three, two females and a male, quietly argued about where the male would sit. His energies lingered on the empty seat next to me, and my anxieties rose. The exquisite females that accompanied helped guide him to the seat in-between them, easing the tension that had built.

Why is it that men lose sight of themselves when confronted with their shadows?

The couple to my left had no doubts, nor lingering suspicions. The female confidently placed herself between me and her date. 

My gratitude overwhelmed; I did not feel the need to re-situate myself in the empty seats to my left. 

The red curtain rose and the story brightly unfolded before their captive audience. 

Excerpts from Playbill:

"The Time of Salvation Begins: Choreography by, Yungchia Chen. Music by, D.F./arr. Jing Xian.

The curtain rises on a resplendent and lofty paradise. Celestial beings of every kind have gathered here, waiting. On a golden chariot the Creator appears, addressing them in a resounding voice: 'Follow me to the Earth to save all life.' Throughout the cosmos, brave divinities answer the call as the Creator leads them on a sacred mission to the human world. There, they assume various roles, from emperor to court ladies to soldiers, forging a glorious culture and setting the stage for the grand play of history."

(end of Excerpts)

*Edit: 04/10/2024, Did you know that the Shen Yun team have a patent on their digital art display where the characters move from the stage to the screen and vice versa?? I saw a very similar thing in Michael Jacksons 1993 Super Bowl performance... Which got me thinking. If Michael Jackson used it in 1993, Shen Yun began in 2006, and received their patent in 2016... does the patent actually belong to Shen Yun, or Michael Jackson? If it were up to the timeline, Michael Jackson would win. If it were up to Michael Jackson, the patent wouldn't exist and the whole world would have the ability to share stories using the technology. Maybe thats why Michael never sought a patent over the idea when he first used it back in 1993. Maybe it was an original idea, and maybe it was inspired by something he saw. That is the way art works in a way. Art inspires art. If I were Shen Yun....or rather, if I had any creative control over Shen Yun, I would release the patent and give the whole world use over the idea. Seeing as it isn't that "original" anyway...

A grand theatrical experience was promised and the Shen Yun Performing troupe delivered a perfectly tuned spectacle. 

From the articulately crafted costumes, seamless props, well timed digital displays that allowed for other dimensions to be utilized, the stage representing the current human reality and the graphics opening us up to magical possibilities. I was spell bound by the range of emotions included in each story. 

The show is originally produced each year. From every angle the stories are told with new: composed orchestrations, costumes, musicians, dancers, singers, technicians, digital art, and hosts. The two hosts of the evening spoke eloquently and with well timed comedy to engage us from beginning to end. 

The dancers hold a magnificent elegance as their range of motion, flexibility, and artful presentation of material paired well with the live orchestration to take us on a historical journey. 

Not only have the Chinese people experienced oppression and violence, but they have experienced a piece of humanity that is not isolated to their continent. For it is within the human condition to experience tyranny at some point or another. 

Is not America experiencing such tyranny, within the current shadows of its underbelly?

Have we so easily forgotten the Holocaust? 

Or the pioneer struggle from the East to the West?

The Trail of Tears?

Unfortunately, historical references to oppression are endlessly exhaustive. A pattern we have not overcome. Freedom waiting to be claimed. 

"They didn't bow to the crushing power of Chinese Communist tyranny. For over 20 years, 100 million people have faced atrocities with courage and faith." (Playbill Excerpt) 

The belief system, the violent take over, the social warfare all directly reflect upon historical patterns. Power tends to lose sight of its original purpose when faced with undirected chaos. 

As the vibrant history unfolded I was brought back to my own upbringing as a Latter Day Saint. The many times that religion has told its history through artful means to help their members remain fully engaged in the work of the Lord. 

It is so very common within religion to use art as a means of cultivating its followers from seedlings to full grown oxygen giving plants. It is also quite common to use art as a tool for manipulation and to create more followers, vs. leaders. 

As far as this particular production is concerned I felt that all of their artists were represented well. They celebrated the whole company as equal contributors and held special focus for those artists that had dedicated more of their time to perfecting solos. 

I felt that the artists displayed a sense of freedom within their core, which in turn radiated as beauty, a light filled elegance. 

I was strengthened by their individuality and their ability to work as a team. I was strengthened to remember my own roots, and to carry myself forward in self-love. 

Overall, we (I) was delighted to safely take myself on a date, a fancy date, I might add. I am ecstatic that we are stable enough to prioritize ourself, and that within the self we have room for our sacred circle of loved ones to find home within our heart. 

To the Shen Yun Company of story tellers I say thank you. Thank you for your passion, vibrant life force, and individuality. Thank you for rebelling, for bringing us your story. Thank you for spreading the word on karmic justice and the ability to self heal through true love connections and stable family roots. Thank you for inspiring me to self-date and to step outside of what I know. 

May we embrace the Spring Equinox; A balancing of shadows and light.

May we embrace self love as a means of healing.

May justice follow the Lunar Eclipse into the Solar Eclipse and onward to fulfill past due enlightenment. 

Merci beaucoup,

-À

Female Hero Highlight

 Good Morning Loved Ones,

This morning as I woke to Nova's meows I found that sleeping in would not be an option. After a journal entry and a few items of business, I opened up Isabel Allende's book The Soul Of A Woman and continued my read. Her writing is fluid, full of laughter, and generous. Within the books pages hold timeless heroic female figures. Today, Olga Murray has captured my senses and caused the Little One within me to be seen and heard. For as Olga has decided to spend her life's mission fighting against human trafficking, so have we. Little One, or Baby Sister, deserves to have a protector that shields her, and other little children like her, from evil pedophiles. Families are sacred, and worth fighting for. 

Excerpt from Isabel Allende's The Soul of A Woman, Pages 80-83

"Her story is fascinating, but I will have to summarize it here. (Please find Olga Murray online. It's worth it.) After becoming a widow in her sixties, Olga decided to trek in the mountains of Nepal, where she fell and broke an ankle. The Sherpa who accompanied her had to carry her in a basket on his back to the closest village, which turned out to be very poor and isolated. There, while she waited for transportation to the city, Olga witnessed a festival. The villages prepared food with the little they had and dressed in their best clothes, and there was music and dancing. Soon agents came in the buses from the cities to buy little girls between the ages of six and eight. Their fathers sold them because they could not afford to feed them. 

The agents paid the equivalent of two goats or a piglet and took the girls away, after promising the parents that their daughters would live with good families, go to school, and eat well. Instead, the girls were sold as Kamlaris, a form of bondage similar to slavery. Kamlaris worked nonstop, slept on the floor, ate the family's leftovers, and had no education or healthcare. Those were the fortunate ones. The others were sold to brothels. 

Olga realized that even if she used all her money to buy a couple of girls, she could not give them back to their families because they would be sold again, but she was determined to help the Kamlaris. That became her life's mission. She knew she would have to care for the girls she could rescue for several years, until they could fend for themselves. She returned to California and created a charitable organization called the Nepal Youth Foundation (nepalyouthfoundation.org) to provide housing, education, and healthcare to exploited children. Olga has saved some fifteen thousand girls from domestic bondage. She has also managed to change Nepal's culture. Thanks to her, the Nepalese government has declared the Kamlari practice illegal. 

Olga has other similarly spectacular programs--- several homes for orphans and abandoned to hospitals, where mothers are trained to feed their families tasty, well-balanced meals with the resources they have. I have seen the before-and-after pictures. A famished kid, just skin and bones, who couldn't even walk, is playing with a ball a month later. 

Olga's foundation built a model village on the outskirts of Kathmandu. It has a school, several workshops, and housing for vulnerable kids. The name is perfect for the place: Olgapuri, 'Olga's Oasis'. How I wish you could see it! This marvelous woman is adored by thousands of children in Nepal, and it's not an over statement when I say thousands. When she arrives at the Kathmandu airport, there is always a crowd of kids and young people with balloons and garlands to welcome their mama. 

At her late age, Olga is so healthy and strong that she travels a couple of times a year back and forth from Nepal to California, twenty hours. She works nonstop to fundraise for and supervise her projects. Her blue eyes shine passionately when she talks about her kids. She is always smiling, always cheerful. I have never heard her complain or place blame; She is all kindness and gratitude. Olga Murray is my heroine. When I grow up, I want to be just like her."

End of excerpt.

.

The Soul Of A Woman was published in 2020 in Spanish, then translated to English by the writer in 2021. Olga has passed away from her mortal frame as of February 20th, 2024. Peacefully walking with death onto her next great adventure. 

May we all strive to find a greater purpose to life, as Olga did. 

May we all throw stones of love, that our ripples spread loves grace far and wide. 

May we acknowledge a universal truth, building something slowly, with careful planning, will allow a legacy to form which will continue on well past our physical death. 

Rest in peace angel. May those you have served find purpose in your hands. 

-À

12/03/2024

Women.

 

Fearlessly Flawless; A Radical Definition of Perfection

Cowardice we stare unblinking

Toeing the line between intelligence and muscle memory. 

If LOVE is the greatest law of all,

May our energy resonate from deep within our hearts.

Pushing human limits,

We cultivate a safe environment for Growth. Change. Creation. 

A path for Freedom. 

Allowing space for individuality means a deeper commitment to self understanding.

"Come as you are and I will too." 

A phrase of deep consent. 

Listening; A verb.

Fearlessly flawless.

Find your space. Hold yourself close and never let go of the shield of faith.

For virtue of true love is held safely within the flower of optimism

and the knowledge that positive energy flows down stream. 

I am invited to join the table of freethinking radicals that hold intelligence far beyond the now.

I am emboldened by the shape they take, the way they command the silence.

We will not weaken a resolve woven deep into the fabric of time.

We will not leave empty space for your intentions and lack of insight. 

There is no room at this inn for you, your sleep-walking ways.

For as you are asleep, what need have you of lodging in my home?

What need have you of safety from the typhoon crashing upon your door?

Did you come to our aid while the shadows burned down our villages,

Hiding our women and children in basements?

Their protectors fighting wars so far from home that home

lost its most noble quality; Safety.

How willing are we to forget the priceless value of motherhood in place of comforts designed to prioritize changing fads of the modern world?

How far away from love must we travel in order to learn that we cannot survive without its warm embrace?

Humanities grace shines brightest when shared subtly on wings of friendships deeply fortified through time gaining loyalty. 

Thank you for being my friend.

Thank you for holding your women and children closely.

Thank you for remembering Mother.

Avec toute mon cœur,

Merci,

-À

 

The Soul of A Woman

Happy Woman's History Month!!! Here is a poem that has inspired me greatly!

 A poem from page 13 of Isabel Allendes book, "The Soul of A Woman":

---------------

"No, quiet you are not prettier

You are gorgeous when you struggle

when you fight for what is yours

when you don't shut up

and your words bite,

when you open your mouth

and everything around catches fire.

No, quiet you are not more beautiful,

only a little more dead.

One thing I know about you

and it's that I have never seen anybody

ever

so eager to live

shouting

- 'Burn' By Miguel Gane 

----------------

I am so excited to be spreading the self love this month and for new opportunities to create change, cultivate leaders, and grow love. 

Some ways that I have invested in myself this month include: taking myself out on a date, spending time with my baby (my sweet cat), cleansing and healing the energy in my home, sharing and receiving knowledge from my housemates, spending time in women centered spaces, and learning new things. 

Some new things I've learned recently have to do with connecting with Mother Earths grounding energy and in personal development. I have connected with Mother by creating more recycling avenues for our home to follow. I learned that organic food waste, coffee grounds, and egg shells make for easy compost additions. Learn about Composting Egg shells, especially, add much benefit to gardens and plants by adding Calcium Carbonate, a needed nutrient and moderator of soil acidity. The soil needs feeding, and the land fill needs less waste entering it every week/month/year. 

In addition, I look forward to purchasing and or making re-usable bags so as to save on my grocery bill (Sometimes grocery stores give a discount if you bring your own bags ;)) AND cut down on plastic which CANNOT be recycled. If we wouldn't put a pile of plastic on a plate for our families to eat....why would we expect Mother Earth to be excited to eat it...

Just a thought.

I have been job searching for the last few weeks in hopes that I can find a work space that is focused more on team development rather than a dog-eat-dog mentality. A job that knows how to value its diverse employees and promote a safe, relaxed work environment. I know that I will find a space to passionately play within soon. I just know it. 

May we value the women who grace our lives.

May we honor our ancestors and the fiery paths they have walked.

May we spread love, energetic abundance, and light into the world. That it may become a safe space for ALL!

Sage advice from my Sacred Earth Oracle Deck:

"The truth always reveals itself. Turn to, or be, someone you can trust. Listen and respect to all, be true to yourself. Love is the greatest law of all. Nature is dependable. Natures loyalty to its laws gives earth the order it needs to support life. Outside of these laws is chaos...and miracles. Is it as true for the frail, as it is for the strong? Is it as true for the poor, as it is for the rich? Is it as true for women, as it is for men? Is it as true for children, as it is for adults? The laws of the universe has no bias."

Peace, Love, Blessings, and Freedom.

-À

Le ciel est bleu; The Sky is Blue, an original poem by A.R.P

Le matin, le ciel est bleu et je suis contente. 

Je suis contente parce que je suis libre. 

non, Je suis contente parce que

Nous sommes libres. 

Comme les nuages dans le ciel

Les morceaux de nous sont libres

Nous respirons l'air frais du changement

Avec une peau arc-en-ciel

Nous luttons tous ensemble

Nous sommes grands

Nous sommes prêts à voler

et...

nous restons fermes

prêt à combattre

non...

Pas comme le grand homme orange qui sème la peur

mais...

comme le soleil et la lune,

en harmonie,

en paix.

aujourd'hui, nous luttons tous ensemble

Et nous sommes forts,

Nous sommes remplis de courage

Et nous sommes libres.

-À 15/01/2024

(Un poème original)

###########################################

English Translation:

In the morning, the sky is blue and I am happy.

I'm happy because I'm free.

no, I'm happy because

We are free.

Like the clouds in the sky

The pieces of us are free

We breathe the fresh air of change

With rainbow skin

We all fight together

We are tall

We are ready to fly

And...

we stand firm

ready to fight

No...

Not like the big orange man who spreads fear

but...

like the sun and the moon,

in harmony,

in peace.

today we all fight together

And we are strong,

We are filled with courage

And we are free.

-À 15/01/2024 

(An original poem)

..................................................................

Aujourd'hui, c'est le jour de Martin Luther King Jr.

Et voici son discours:

"Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.: Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But 100 years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself in exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition. In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check.

When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men — yes, Black men as well as white men — would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked insufficient funds.

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt.

We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to his hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.

Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. 1963 is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual.

There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges. 

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny.

And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back.

There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, when will you be satisfied? We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities.

We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: for whites only.

We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote.

No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our Northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.

So even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day down in Alabama with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, one day right down in Alabama little Black boys and Black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning: My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrims' pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California. But not only that, let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia. Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee. Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, Black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: Free at last. Free at last. Thank God almighty, we are free at last."

"Dieu merci, tout-puissant, nous sommes enfin libres!"

((*Speech copied from www.npr.org = https://www.npr.org/2010/01/18/122701268/i-have-a-dream-speech-in-its-entirety*))