Being “Love” is easily misinterpreted. In this world of separation, illusion, duality and deceit, all work is validated by the amount of service it offers to the “Others.”

If I can’t be of service to others, how could I be in service of myself?
If I know myself, I realize there are no others. If there are no others, serving God is a selfish act; and that’s ok. Selfish from this standpoint builds tribe strength, and the strength of the pack is the WOLF.

When I started this article, I was going to rant about some Spanish chick in python heels on a Sunday night eating sweet potatoes fries all by her lonesome with a runny nose. The runny nose was, no doubt, from a coke habit run amok, as projected via the demon dark sunglasses she rocked at 5pm.

I wanted to tell you all how I dropped my ring under her table at dinner, and had to retrieve it. In the process of storytelling I was going to unravel this chick...

This chick looked at me like I was less than a human. I never understood hot chicks, and I honestly am not sure if I really want to.

She looked at me like my hippy ass couldn’t offer her a line and a half to suck my knob in the bathroom while my edamame hummus was being prepared.

I wanted to tell you all this. I WANTED to make a mockery of this sperm dumpster wearing my friends as fashion.

A part of me just doesn’t want to be alone anymore, there’s better lovers.

A part of me doesn’t want to conquer anymore, there’s better fighters.

A part of me just wants to be able to see peace in the world, but I rarely stop and take time to achieve it within.

Fucking life is a catch 22, and I don’t really know how to face it all the time. If you think there are others, you will see separation.

If you envision oneness, completeness, the Whole, you will see that the judgement lies only on a defective, dark part of you in need of healing.

For ages and ages men returning from battle were healed by the women of the tribes.

For thousands of years men and woman had roles that played out, NOT because they were written in the books of lost humans, but because HUMANS had yet to value these “Books” and still had to rely on nature for our answers.

Then humans got too smart for nature. We started making the erroneous statement that God in fact makes mistakes, and that humans were a causality of this laughable energy.

We began hybridizing food.
We started to hybridize the sexes.
We initiated society’s downfall by straying far from our sacred Mother.

Now we live in cities.
We don’t know what fucking bathroom to piss in.
We have addictions PLAGUING us.
We have become so hybridized that we have lost ALL of our warriors, and the dumb motherfucks like Cokie over here, end up getting knocked up by some two bit gonna be dad who won’t stick around for his kids.

THIS is the world that we are in, and we FAIL to be honest with ourselves about it.
If I make a mistake, and I own that mistake, that is no longer a mistake that is a blessing.

EVERY thing is forgivable.
The ONLY thing that will be remembered on your judgement day, is LOVE.

Despite the fact that I’d love to thumb blast this defected reflection in a public bathroom stall, I understand it is MY hurt, NOT hers that I see in the world. She doesn’t hate me, she hates herself. For me to be aware of that simple fact, I must also realize that I hate myself.
We get what we ARE, not what we WANT to be.

There are no mistakes.

CREATION doesn’t make “Mistakes “

I make mistakes. Those mistakes turn to lessons in due course, and lessons turn into battles won. Battles won lead to wars won. Wars won (in the spiritual sense) leads to greater connection with spirit.

That is the goal of all of this. To remember before you get home, to see when you are still blind, to give when you have NOTHING fucking left.

I don’t know why I write.
Some days I don’t even know what I write.

I know that I see, feel, and sense pain.
I know that because of the depth of my emotional downward spiral, I am capable of holding more light, more safety, and more sacred space for others.

It is ONLY because of the darkness that I ever blossomed into whatever the fuck I AM now. I couldn’t find the light.
I asked around, no one had it.
I had no choice but to become it, and once the lights on, it will never go out again.

If you cannot find the light, become it.
The Sun doesn’t give a fuck if it blinds you. Shine On.