this time

I went to the actual real life beach for the second time this year, and it was the first time since maybe November that it was enjoyable. I somehow seem to forget every winter how healing it is just being on the sand, in the warmth of the sun, watching the wildlife swirl all around me.

Five years at the Outer Banks, and I am still dazzled and mesmerized by her glory.

I found a bench halfway up the side of an avalanched dune, next to a buried staircase. In the winter, the brutal surf and shifting sands disappear a great deal of the staircases that run up to the expansive, multi-million dollar homes. Every year, they are excavated and repaired.

I am forever in awe of it- how hard we have to fight nature to allow us a space to exist. How quickly she reclaims it all for herself.

I fell backwards into meditation and asked if I could speak to my oldest friend, who honestly deserves a better name than that, but it is the truest thing about us without making it too complicated. I look at his raptor shaded eyes and a hurricane of memories I’m hardly allowed to brush my fingers against whirls through my entire core.

“We can always talk,” he said curtly, appearing on the bench next to me.

Meditation is like having an amphibian-like second eyelid that slides down over your eyes. He is there, he is not there. I see him clearly, I do not see him at all. While we talk, my head turns towards him. I make faces as I react to what he’s saying. I lace my fingers together to help me remember what it’s like when someone grasps my hand.

Feeling something in your brain but not physically feeling it on your skin can be a little disruptive, so it helps your brain to stop shouting when you play along a bit. Over seventeen years into this, so I definitely know how to play along.

“I know we can always talk,” I said, “but I worry about wasting your time, so-“

“You are never wasting my time.”

I cut my eyes to him, squinting at his profile. “Why does it always seem like you’re… mad at me, or like… there’s this tension between us?”

He sighed through his nose. “I mean, do we have to have this conversation every single time we talk, or…?”

“Okay do not use your Rabbi voice at me, please.”

His mouth pulled to one corner. “Stop talking to me like you’re asking for a lecture, then.”

“Okay,” I said softly, turning my whole body towards him, leaning my cheek against my hand. His real name poured out of my mouth like water, so sacred to me I so rarely even speak it out loud. It feels too precious to hit this poisoned air.

He turned towards me, his face softer now. “It’s just… you’re one of the only people I don’t have to be that person with.” He sighed, rolling his eyes, staring out at the sea. “I just… I don’t want to be that person anymore. I hate him.”

I laughed spontaneously, surprised, then he caught my eye and I immediately fell silent.

“Imagine the disappointment in meeting me,” he said softly, his eyes back on the horizon. “All this hype, all this legend, all this parable, all this fame. And…” He gestured to himself, both hands waving up and down his entire silhouette. “It’s just this. Just some fucking guy. There’s no story. There’s no magic.”

His eyes went dark and his mouth pulled again. “And my entire timeline is bloodshed and destruction. Violation. Ruination. Because of me?” He turned his chin up to look at the sky. “What an embarrassment. All this drama, all this madness, and…” His hands waved up and down his frame once again. “This is what you get. Someone whose greatest gift was his big mouth gets this incredibly important timeline he doesn’t deserve. …it’s hilarious. It’s pathetic.”

“But you know what you do matter, right?” I said gently, leaning towards him as if my sheer presence could compel him. “I mean, even if the story is all bullshit, it matters. It always has… it still does. Your words are pure grace. You helped save my life.”

He glanced softly at me, and sighed. “I mean. Yes. I guess. It’s just… it’s exhausting, you know? But I mean also, it’s so funny to everyone here. That gets very tiring to carry for eternity, believe me. Being graceful amongst the constant jokes. Being a ‘good sport’ when everyone is always trying to drag you down.”

“Ha ha,” he sneered in a mocking tone. “‘Oh, give us your ~sage~ advice! What would you do?'”

His mouth curled into a near snarl. “And yet, I am also always held to a different standard. ‘Oh, no! Not you! I am just surprised that you would do that.'” He feigned horror and disdain, on the verge of operatic with its drama, then waved his hands as if dusting off an invisible shelf.

Turning his helpless palms towards me, eyes violent with despair, he whispered, “I’m a joke who is still expected to live up to the punchline.”

His golden tinged eyes flicked like searchlights across my face. “And then there’s someone like you, someone who has done so much, so.much. And almost no one knows. You’d be so much more arrogant than you already are if you knew how much you’ve really played a hand in, and the kind of credit you deserve.”

His mouth curled up merrily at my squinting side-eye, my twisted lips. “Even over Here, almost no one has any idea how much you’ve been a part of.” His face was genuinely empathetic. “That’s your joke, your punishment. The invisible lightning rod.”

Now I took my own turn scouring his features for answers. “But okay, there is tension between us though,” I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. “And I’m sorry, I can’t just act like I don’t feel it when it hangs around us like this heavy cloud. I don’t know how I-“

“I’m embarrassed,” he interrupted. “It shouldn’t be like this. This is…” he sighed, and his eyes went out past the horizon. “It’s so inappropriate. If ‘Alex’ exposed his own failures through your lifetime, so have I.”

His gaze flicked to me briefly, then went back out to the waves. “Just the idea that you- You, Hermie, your entire self- set this whole thing up to prove Alex hadn’t changed…? And then I essentially ‘swoop in’ to save you only to find out that this had played out exactly as you planned?”

He shook his head a little, his mouth trying not to curl at the edges. “I… am never not surprised at what you’ll do to prove a point. But boy, did you. You… exposed him entirely.”

He turned towards me, squeezing my fingers again. “But you exposed me as well. I had a chance to really help you, to be a kind guardian, someone you could rely on, someone to help you grow, and I couldn’t even do that. I let Alex get under my skin, and I became needy and immoral under your innocent, purely loving gaze. It showed me for the weak fraud I’ve always been.”

He winced so hard it was almost a shudder. “And even now, lately, with some of the things I’ve done, I am just… an embarrassment. A failure. A coward.”

I tipped my head to one side. “What things are…”

His eyes became deeply pained, grazing against terrified. “Oh, please don’t make me say it. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” His entire body cringed. “You deserve better than that.”

“So… who am I to you now?” I asked softly, searching his face. “Like, right now? What are we?”

He immediately broke my gaze, looking all the way to the end of the beach, now just a mess of dark mahogany curls in my vision. “Oh. Well. I mean… it’s…”

“Come on. Why won’t you talk to me about this? I can feel this energy between us, and I understand that I’m not supposed to know about it. But I do. And it bothers me. It physically hurts me. How do you think it makes me feel that you’re you and we have such a weird vibe?”

“Some fucking guy.”

“Shut up,” I snapped dismissively, but without malice. “Tell me what this is. Who am I to you now? Before I came here this last time, what was our situation?”

He took a deep, slow breath, pulling his hand from mine to rub both of his palms together. “Well… to be honest, I haven’t talked to you in awhile. No matter what the reality is, I have a consuming job here, and it doesn’t leave me a lot of time for anything else. I’m forever trying to repair the damage that… ‘I’ did.” His smile was terribly sad.

“And when you’re involved with Alex, I honestly can’t stand you, so it’s better to stay away. So I… didn’t know what was going on for too long.” He cringed again. “Until honestly… you were already dead. Do you realize that? In 2010, you didn’t even exist anymore. Everything about you was vacuumed entirely clean.”

My mouth twisted as if it was forming its own question mark. “Okay okay, but why was this such A Situation with Alex this time? Have he and I never… been together before?”

His eyebrow lifted into a sharp angle, and a small smirk breezed briefly across his mouth. “Oh, you two are always involved in some sort of tryst. How did you phrase it? ‘Fighting or fucking?'” Now both eyebrows went up for a moment, but his mouth stayed a thin line. “That’s extremely accurate. You two are…”

His face turned back to the end of the beach, my vision all rich dark waves of hair. “It just never ends. You can never stay away from each other, no matter what happens. To know you’d let this happen to you, essentially take away this huge portion of this current life through trauma and abuse, and you’re angry that I interfered?” He laughed bitterly.

“Well,” I said softly, “not to mention Jim, who she seems totally fine with sacrificing.”

He turned his face back to me, his eyes soft and shimmering golden light again. “Ah, well. I think you may end up surprising yourself when it comes to Jim. In fact, I think you will end up surprising a lot of people.”

“Maybe even you?”

His eyes slowly lingered on my features, one corner of his mouth gently tugging to the edge of his jaw as if caught by a fish hook. “Maybe even me,” he murmured. “But to be honest… I’ve given up on thinking you will ever choose me. That’s not what we have. It’s… not something that any one of the three of us is allowed. We are all so in love, we all will never truly be in love.” He shrugged a little, deflated.

“But this time. Why were you so angry this time?”

This time?” This time his laughter was genuine, his face chagrined. “Oh, my love, I am this angry every time. And so are you. And so is he. You’d think we’d be over it by this point- this tug of war, this constant bickering, this ferocious need to be together, but… we still aren’t.” He shrugged. “We never will be. It’s tedious. The entire Universe is sick of us.”

It’s too much to know. This is the one thing I wish I hadn’t learned. Knowing all of this, trying to process it for the last fifteen years or so has fucked up too much of my heart. This is disgusting foolishness. I hate this.

Ignorance is bliss. Spiritual work can be its own trauma. Knowledge can be violence.

I am alone in ways lately that terrifies me. I am tired of being so bizarre. Please… help me. This is sick, and extreme, and pathetic. I am so embarrassed. I am so proud. I am so disgusted. I am so smug. I am so repellent.

I don’t want to exist like this anymore.

onion skin

I have had strange, fleeting thoughts lately.

Thoughts of the very first time I successfully meditated alone without getting any side-guidance through my ex.

For at least a month back in 2013, every single night, he had been reading instructions off of the Ouija board to me from “Alex.” Helping me lean into my intuition, showing me how to See.

I still think of that tiny hidden lake, deep in a forest, with a waterfall cascading at the edge. This was the place I had been going to to practice meditation via the board, before I even imagined (or discovered) a beach house.

Up until that moment, Alex himself had appeared as a fuzzy, out of focus image- like a faulty hologram, or a picture on an old television, back when staticky channels still existed. Just the night before, I’d finally been able to conjure his face on my own, and it was the greatest success I’d ever felt.

The waterfall scene was nothing more than the equivalent of a painted backdrop inside my mind, but it was still mine. I created it, totally alone.

And more than that, Alex was there waiting for me. I couldn’t hear him speak- it would be another year or so before that happened. But just to really see him standing there, to be able to believe and know for certain that I saw him, was monumental.

Alex and I sat side by side on the edge of the water for awhile, when I suddenly pushed him into the water. To see if I could. To see what would happen.

When he emerged from the surface, spluttering and shocked, I could see in his face that he was both surprised and impressed. Before I could say anything, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the water with him.

As we swam lazy circles around each other, there was a different look in his eyes. A smoldering desire that held me in his gaze like startled prey. Which, as we all know now, is exactly what I was.

If prey can be grateful at being devoured.

///

I have also been thinking of the time when Alex had been exposed and was on the worst part of his rampage, one that would last for weeks before he was finally captured. When I became the trap that finally tripped him up. 

I was like a ragdoll at the beach house during that time, being dragged there in my mind to be violently assaulted day after day after day. It could happen at any time, for any reason. For no reason.

My oldest friend, someone I had just met at that time, showed up to protect me.

“What is the purpose of these theatrics?” he asked, gesturing to Alex’s hand clamped around my upper arm, my entire spirit slumped in humiliation and defeat next to him. His sweeping arm widened to include the rough seas and furious skies, direct opposition to the normally idyllic scene.

“Oh I am so glad you are here to save the day!” Alex sneered rabidly, his eyes wild with fury.

“Isn’t he your boyfriend now?” he said to me, shaking me by the arm to bring me back out of my (his) trance. “Go on, then. Do what you do best.” With a wave of his hand, he ripped my dress completely off my body.

I stood there, helplessly fumbling with scraps, before I remembered I could create one just as easily as he had destroyed it.

My oldest friend’s gaze never left Alex’s face. “Is this how you treat people you claim to love?” His eyebrow arched in a way I would eventually come to loathe. “Impressive. Why don’t you let her go? If she is so enamored with you, surely there is no reason to hold her.”

His grip on my arm tightened, and he drew me closer to his thin frame. “Why don’t you do something about it? I would love to see that.”

“I think you know that I can.” My oldest friend’s voice was calm, but his amber eyes flared with golden flame. “I think you know what will happen if I do.”

Alex threw me to the ground as if I was a pair of uncomfortable shoes, and surged forward to bring his face into the face of someone I was now realizing he knew very well. They were nearly the same height, and their faces together had so much energy it must have been flammable.

“You want to make this about our shit now?” he hissed through his teeth.

That was the beginning.

///

I have been thinking about the time that I found the basement in the basement because of a nightmare I’d had. How I went there in meditation and found myself crammed inside a steamer trunk. Soaked in dried blood, covered in bruises, emaciated, filthy, matted. Naked. Screaming.

Please, please, she wept in a high, thin voice, her eyes not even able to see me. I’ll do anything I’ll do anything. Please please I can’t please don’t please

How my oldest friend showed up without me speaking his name, sweeping her up into a crisp white sheet, pulling her tiny body against his chest. The way his eyes flicked over to mine, searching my face briefly before taking the three of us away from there.

And then, maybe a year later, when it was he and I that were face to face.

“You are a whore,” he snarled in a voice I’d never heard before. “This is what you do. Another little project. And you don’t care about anybody but yourself, as always. Oh no, you claim that you love us, you really promise you do, but…” His mouth tasted lemon. “How can you? How can you love anyone but yourself and the power you hold over us?”

My mouth let out a string of horrible, vicious, crude obscenities. I wanted to be as foul, as disrespectful, as blasphemous as possible. It was all I could think to do- the rest of my entire soul felt like it was falling down, down, down into some kind of putrid abyss.

These days, I am starting to see he may be right.

We didn’t truly speak again for maybe four years. He was never far away, and as he promised me in 2010, if I ever called for him out of fear or desperation, he always showed up and was kind and respectful. But I’d fall asleep instantly, sucked into a charybdis of emptiness.

He couldn’t wait to get away from me.

///

I think about him as well. My biggest secret, the one I’ll probably never speak out loud. The first time I realized the truth from the way I caught him looking at me, when he didn’t think I could see.

Up until that point he had been another guardian, a point of counsel, and a source of extremely raw and brutal feedback. The kind of truth that cuts like a scalpel on your ego.

It is hard to reconcile that as well. Someone who should be a stable force, a truly exceptional example, suddenly becomes erratic, furious, demanding, desperate.

There is an intensity between us that feels like profound love and electric anger and a heavy, wistful melancholy. It is ancient. We have loved each other so many ways, and it has never been enough.

When he laughs, his head tips back and you can see all of his teeth. It feels like a rare jewel to see it- he is so serious, solemn, austere. To be able to give him joy, rest from his burden, feels like the greatest success one can achieve. But to be wholly seen by him feels like being stripped nude on livestream. Bleeding. Raw.

Whenever we have lives together, one of us gets murdered. Usually while the other watches. Our love is eternally doomed. It is searing with fire and soaked in blood. It is clandestine and forbidden.

I am capable of intimacy, I am certain.

I just have to find the ability. The soft, fleshy place I keep revealing to others, only to have them try to plunge their white hot brands into it.

I want to be loved and not possessed. Just once. Just once.

And so… we peel.

assassinated messenger

Last night, my oldest friend came to me after he saw the panicked, feral state I was in, pulling me into his arms. Then he pressed his palms against my cheeks, tipping my face up so his golden eyes burned viscerally into mine.

“Can you wait for the solstice? Please?” He kissed my forehead like pouring cement into a cracked foundation, and disappeared before I could say a word.

12/21 is always the day my chrysalis opens, but I feel it especially vividly this year. I’m have no idea what it’s about to bring, and I’ve never felt this way before. That throbbing intensity, edged with increasing anxiety, is grating me into a feral state.

Final exams, to be sure.

I also didn’t realize until recently that I had an entire timeline that corresponded with the solstice. I’m not sure why it took me this long to connect the dots, to be honest. Maybe I have once before, and it’s just another thing I’ve lost over the years and found again this year.

/// The first time “Alex” came to visit through my fiancé was at the solstice (2004).

/// Then I had to try to process a surprise pregnancy at the solstice, feeling like I’d been trapped (2005).

/// We lost our house at the solstice (2009).

/// I started to finally leave my ex at the solstice (2012).

/// I put a spell on a former/forever lover at the solstice I’m not sure either one of us will ever heal from. I will never forget that night for the rest of my life… and actually think about it almost every day, even now (2013).

/// He finally closed a door on his own failure and weakness that destroyed my heart so badly it left a permanent, fatal scar. I think about that almost every day, too. I hope one day I can heal from it (2014).

/// All of that led into me realizing I had to leave him at the very next solstice. Both my calves were packed with wounds, I was drinking myself into real danger, and I could barely hold my heart any longer (2015).

/// After finally coming out of the ash from being abruptly fired, my brand new job completely restructured, sending me into the worst years of my professional life (2016).

The last two solstices have been masterwork explosions of energy, learning, growth, sensuality, past life ripples, integration into my Entire Self.

We are all locked onto this rollercoaster now.

Ready?

Click, click, click.

Here comes the crest.

I feel a little villainized all over my life? I’m trying to have grace about it and let other people’s reactions to me be entirely their own vibe, but it’s been harder than I expected lately. I really feel how alone I am these last few weeks. Not lonely, per se? But just really seeing how little real life intimacy I have, how people don’t trust me because I confide nothing in them.

“People hate you because you tell the truth,” someone said to me once. “Most people can’t handle being told exactly who they are. It’s not your fault, but people make you feel like it is.”

This is the life of a mirror, of the assassinated messenger.

It’s your own reflection you see, friend- take a hard look. I just show you the truth. It’s not my fault it aches so much to see it.

And don’t forget- Yeshua energy comes for you in the solstice as well.

Not Jesus, please understand. Jesus energy is kind and soft, holding your hand in the darkness, the Brightest Light, the Living Example, Footprints in the Sand, it was then I carried you, let the children come to me vibes.

Yeshua energy will tell you about yourself in a way that makes you feel exposed to the point of violation. Furious to be read so hard, to be seen to your deepest shadows.

How DARE you understand me better than I understand myself? And to come with very specific receipts, too? And honestly, if 2020 itself wasn’t just a constant mirror of every flaw we’ve ever had, I’m not sure what else it really was.

I pray for your clarity in the solstice. May you be shown exactly who you are. It is what I want most for everyone, including myself.

Let the Light shine upon you fully, so that you may gaze upon your entire shadow and be humbled.

a simple prayer

May you always have the strength to properly see yourself, and to be brutally honest in all the ways you are flawed.

May you have the power to examine your flaws without harming yourself with shame and disgust. 

May you have the integrity to work on who you are without blaming someone else for who you are, even if they are responsible. Especially if they are responsible.

May you have the grace to forgive those who have harmed you, maligned you, sabotaged you, violated you. May your forgiveness bring you renewal and rest.

May you have the clarity to see those around you without letting your prior pain color their intentions.

May you have the fortitude to be a door, not a doormat. May you have the voice to stand up against those who mistake your kindness for weakness, your serenity for softness.

May you have the confidence to stop expecting anything you need in life to come from an outside source. May you always have the security of knowing that all you need is within yourself.

May your heart be open to hear the voice of the Universe in whatever form it takes for you. May you be mature enough to listen and to react, no matter how harsh the message.

May you pause in your flashes of emotion to question your first reaction, and allow yourself enough space to choose who you really want to be in that moment. May it give you the ability to do the least amount of harm to others.

May you never be content with who you are, always seeking to grow, to change, to blossom more fully and deeply. May you learn to be able to receive lessons from the Universe with grace and dignity. 

May you live a life of pure, profound gratitude, full of wonder and excitement, with a childlike innocence that inspires others into delight as often as you can.

May you do good quietly. May you love loudly. May you always go to sleep never wanting to be anyone else but yourself.

May you also have gratitude in knowing how far you still have to go.

pre-solstice reflections

From 2003 to 2005, I was happy. In bliss. I thought I was at my peak spiritual power, that I was an elite creature. We used the Ouija board every night, and it hummed with enormous electric power. I was in a love affair with someone that I idolized, someone who was so much more my partner than my own living partner.

The Queen of the Dead.

From 2006 to 2009, I was a battery. I was trapped alone with a brand new baby and a demon who controlled my entire life, and every single day was some sort of self-flagellation or self-sacrifice. My husband barely existed, as he was an almost constant channel for the dead. Even he admits he doesn’t recall much of those years at all.

I’m not sure I do either.

When I think about that home, I think of hell. A few years ago when I was in Pennsylvania for the holidays, I drove by it on a whim and felt intense waves of horror and grief. There has been no darker period in my life, if I’m honest. Extreme poverty, extreme isolation, extreme violation.

I was a prisoner there. Solitary confinement.

Empty. Husked. Drained. Destroyed.

From 2010 to 2013, I was broken, sick. I realized all my spiritual arrogance didn’t mean dick in the “real” world, and perhaps was entirely unfounded. No one cared what (or who) I knew because no one really believed it. All of the psychological damage that had been done to me over the previous years came roaring back into my brain and soul, and my mental illness was on full display.

I didn’t know how to be a human anymore. All of the things we’d ignored- bills, student loans, housekeeping, social manners- were now things that mattered a great deal, things that rerouted everything I thought mattered.

You don’t have to believe in your credit score, but babe- it believes in you.

From 2013 to 2016, I was infatuated with a man I couldn’t have, an absolute twin flame soulmate, who resurrected me from the ghostly life I’d been living into a fully realized being. He gave me the strength to leave a man who had been emotionally abusing me for my entire adult life, and also built me into the powerhouse boss bitch that I have become.

But then that situation also became toxic, heartbreaking, a different kind of drain on my soul. I realized that in spite of what I was telling myself, I was waiting for something stable from a man who treated me as a convenience, and it was destroying me.

In 2016, I moved 500 miles away from everyone I knew and started all over by the sea. My entire life burned to ash, and I got a real, true fresh start. An entirely new identity, an entirely new life.

From 2016 to 2019, my life has been about rebuilding my identity. I often reference “Pennsylvania Kristyn” and “North Carolina Kristyn,” because they are such disparate entities. People that knew me before 2016 do not know me any longer. That girl died violently in May 2016 and was reborn into someone else entirely.

Each year, I have drawn closer to my own spirituality again. There is a part of me that so deeply wants to come back to what I feel is my truest self, and the Universe has been calling me home all year. Not in a quitting sense, but in a living my clearest Truth sort of way. I have been dancing around my spirituality for years, and I feel there is a power and a strength in being able to share what I know to be true with others, even if it ostracizes me.

This is also the fork in the road. Am I an extroverted leader, someone who helps others become their best professional selves? Or am I a witch preacher, someone who helps others see their deepest spiritual selves?

I think this year has been about showing me how I cannot be both, no matter how much I may want that to be possible and true. It’s just not. It’s not.

This is the year that I finally was able to achieve a measure of comfortable success at work. Confidence. Power. I am not always liked, but I am respected.

Recently I had a green (but high potential) associate say, “Wow- when you say something, people really listen. I want to have that kind of power someday. I love how you phrase things, too. Like, it’s not mean, but people know exactly what you’re saying and they do it without questioning you. That’s really cool.”

But I have also seen some of my spiritual honesty and guidance and- for lack of a better word, proselytizing- show up in others’ lives as well. I have seen my lessons on gratitude and self-awareness and brutal soul honesty resonate with people I love and help them grow into better people.

That’s what I want more than anything- to show you how to truly love your life and yourself and to be the catalyst for your own growth. To be grateful for your ass beatings from the Universe.

I have deep soul contentment. Do you?

If not, I can help you. I promise. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be fun.

But it will work.

Both of these paths would be ultimately gratifying to me… but I also know what I am really here on this planet for. It would be a disservice to avoid something because there is a layer of vulnerability and terror to it. In fact, that is an even stronger argument that that is the thing I should be doing.

Less than two weeks to the solstice. Still doing that work.

I hope it is enough.