…I Want to Tell You Everything, the Words I Never Got to Say the First Time Around…

Last night I cried.

After a day of fun, watching little boys, and little girls, and puppies, running around, swimming, playing, being silly.  A day of marveling at my cousin’s gorgeous little boy, not yet 3, throwing himself with fearless abandon into the pool, in spite of the fact that he doesn’t actually know how to swim. His giggles, and smile, breaking through the water as he’d find his way to the surface, into his daddy’s waiting arms. And of rocking my Babes to sleep, just he and I in a quiet corner of the garden, listening to (beloved) music, as is our way, and what he asks me for in his just over a year old vocabulary *ooh ooh usic* that melts my heart, every time he sees my phone.

A day when adults too were having fun. Which may have been more courtesy of adult beverages than the freedom of childhood, but, fun is fun. With plans to come home, have a “UFC and chill” night; I got a message about terror attacks in London, turned on the news for a bit to see what new horror was happening, and then I came home, and cried.

The no bullshit truth of life in 2017 is that any given moment, of any given day, there can be something truly tragic happening, somewhere in the world, to cry about. That’s not negativity, or pessimism, or perspective. that’s the truth. It’s probably been this way since the beginning of time. Humans have likely been assholes to other humans, whether as a group, or individuals, since forever started. But now, with all of our “modern” technology  which is so fantastic, and important in so many ways, its likely much easier.  Automatic weapons, and bombs, and nukes, long range missiles, and cars, fucking cars… are much more effective weapons than literal sticks, and stones. I certainly don’t always, or even often, cry, for groups of people killed by terrorists, or psychopaths, which really are one in the same. But when its the U.K., and again, so soon, …

Anyone who know me, knows I’m some sort of weirdo who has always, for as long as I can reach into memory, had a “thing” for the UK. Drawn to it, had an affinity for “things” of it, in an  inexplicable way. My weirdo vibe has become exponentially stronger as the years have passed. I see photos of some parts of it, and my heart races, and I get emotional. For reasons that I don’t understand, as crazy as it is, my heart is in the U.K. My beliefs tell me that I am not *just* bonkers. That I am having past life memories, or am feeling the energy of concurrent lives, in universes parallel, where my soul is occupying a body, living there. No matter the reasons why, what I do know is that I feel it more deeply when these sorts of tragedies occur in the U.K. And last night, I cried.

I woke this morning, having watched only the first 30 seconds of the UFC main card, (which thankfully I recorded!) on my couch. TV on, lights on, puppy crowding me with his massive 12lbs of body weight that seem like 1200 when he sleeps near me. Fully clothed. Terrible. I guess my body just said ‘fug it – good night’, in spite of what was an early hour for me.

Today I’ve spent a lot of time, once again, thinking, and feeling, and trying to figure ANYTHING out. Which I should know better than to do but, ‘HI, My name is Michelle, and I’m an over-thinker/feeler!’ I started to spin myself out about the state of the world, the state of my life, the state of my living room! I worried for all the little boys, and girls at the party yesterday, my cousin’s gorgeous baby boy, and my Babes, about what kind of world we are leaving for them. Or if there will be a world at all to be left to them, with assholes being assholes with alarming frequency.

In my spinning, I dwelt for a bit (radical understatement) on my not too distant future, things that may or may not happen, where I’m going, what I’m doing, or not doing, and choices I’ve recently made that will affect my tomorrows. Also, what can I possibly do to affect things not remotely within my sphere of responsibility, that aren’t mine to clean up, control, decide, fix, or even fuck up if that’s the choices made. AND, will the UK ban Americans from traveling, and moving there, because our President is such a ridiculous ass??!!!! (Half jest.)

And SPIIIIINNNN!!! Like a shroomy, patchouli scented, underarm hair having, long flowy skirt wearing, hippie chick at a Dead concert, I spun. And spun. And spun.

Much too long after I started, I realized I was spinning the fuck out, then did my best impersonation possible of Cher in Moonstruck. I (figuratively) slapped the crap out of myself, while (mentally) shouting “snap out of it!”

I’d like to say the snapping out of it was instantaneous, but, as any over thinker can attest to, stopping a super-spin ain’t easy. (My use of the word ain’t, which I ABHORE, is to emphasize how not easy is the super spin, to stop!) But the spinning did indeed stop.

After I got my feet back under me, I pulled a card, petted my puppy, exorcised with peppermint essential oil, the demon ants appearing here and there around my house, let the sunshine wash over me for a bit, spoke to a friend, watched the #OneLoveManchester concert, refocused my energy to within myself to ensure that my needs, my life, is what is my priority, and I remembered. Who I am. How I am. What I feel. What I believe. What MY path is. And that the best thing I can do for myself, for those I love, and the world, is to be my best self, and breath and exhale. To send out love, and gratitude, and beauty, especially in the moments when anything but those things would be easier to send.  I can’t control anything outside myself, but I can control my reactions to it; to get all spirituality 101 up in here.

Now its Sunday night, and nothing has changed since last night, or this morning, except me. There’s some great stuff happening this week, and even greater stuff happening later this month.  I’m going to Arizona in September, (manifesting) and should probably swing over to LA while I’m in the area. Going back to AZ in October. Want to fit a UK (don’t fuck this up for me, DONALD, or terrorist assholes) and Italy trip in, as well. Summer will be here soon, and I’m going to hit the shore as soon as I can, for ocean, and music, and beauty. I have tickets to see some of my favorite bands at The Stone Pony, in July. My best friend, and sister of my soul, just called me as I was typing that last sentence, and we actually got to talk for half an hour, which is amazing. While stuff that will elicit tears is still happening all over the world, maybe if enough of us stop our personal spinning, and remember love, we can change that, even if just to a small degree.

To the U.K., and everywhere else in the world tonight that is hurting, which is kind of everywhere else, “…I wish you all the love in the world, but most of all, I wish it from myself…”

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