I am sitting in the sun allowing the light and breeze to penetrate my thoughts as I pray to know them as friends.

I hear the words of a co-worker echo a Hawaiian sentiment about the alive responsiveness of all living things. She says her feelings in her own words and sparks renewed appreciation in me for the interconnectedness of all things, "Everything in nature desires to be friends with us."

She lights my heart up. I smile.

"What?" She asks laughing.

I realize I've paused mid-action in goofy smile, "Words like that are medicine to my soul." This medicine in words has be arising in me since January. New concepts. New ideas. New phrasing. New cycles.

Old ancient feeling.

I've been reading many books, but am stuck on two pages in The Education of Little Tree. I've put it to the side many times, reading other books, returned to this simple talk story and the profound element of family, love, understanding contained in those two pages puts me in a clutch the book gently to my heart, consider the many lessons two pages can contain trance.

On this day, one concept strikes me differently. Usually affected most by the grandfather and grandmothers use of "I kin ye," instead of "I love you," is my favorite passage. Today it is the expounded idea of what it is to accept others as family and to kin them by understanding what it is they are feeling in any circumstance that arises. In this passage one of the men in the congregation has stood up to berate everyone and another man has stood up to tell him that if any misunderstanding has occurred he wants this one to know how loved he is and that everyone would like to right the misconception. In the telling of the story the grandson asks why no one gets defensive, grandfather says it is because he is kin and everyone understands that he comes from a time of fighting and that what they really want is for him to feel safe again.

The idea arises and connects to a statement I made while assisting a friend with chores.

Zonia?
Yes?
Why don't you go out anymore?
I don't know. I've gotten into a state of resisting everything lately.
Why?
I'm not sure.

And as I do, ponder this idea, let it stir around amid a million differing concepts until it blob tags with a clarifying sentiment, differing situation and words that heal my view--today the ideas that connect are
1. New Generation of Healthy Medicine People connects to 2. "kin," understanding, fighting, resisting, 3. this moment on the bench looking skyward at leaves dancing sunlight, 4. A week of feeling myself pass through and 5. a bath wherein I contemplate images from childhood, not just paradise, but also Armageddon. (What used to be taught as an actual occurrence makes its way into my spirulina sea salt crystal bath as spiritual metaphor for hearts devotion) and 6. a line from the Upanishads.

"You are what your deep, driving desire is.
As your desire is, so is your will.
As your will is, so is your deed.
As your deed is, so is your destiny."

This has led me to ask the question of each line:
What is my deep driving desire?
What is my will?
What are my actions?
What is my destiny?

As I review, an observer of my life interactions, I watch God's answer in the form of book readings, a visitation from young friend I have known a decade and moments like these on the bench.

My own end of 17 year travel cycle including re-gifting everything I've owned many times over, the epic adventures, the prayerful meetings, the miraculous money-less journeys wherein just enough is actually enough I am so happy to be free so not impoverished, uncontrolled, at peace with manifestations of walk abouts and the wondrous simple pleasure of sunrise to sunset the counter experience of modern day belief infiltrating all sectors of life, "Money is God."

That I do know I can not pay celestial bodies to rotate and shine in such glorious perfection. The--no one but my soul and its Source energy own me. The--I have no reason to go this way but for the ancestral angelic guidance and the facing of ridicule about ending my professional teaching career almost two decades ago. The--lone path that has just settled into home and this rocking bench in the sun.

I reflect.
Always in motion, it is difficult to truly know the lives and communities I've touched or affected but perhaps the greatest effect is, as I tell my friend's 3 year old little grandmother who pretends to know everything:

The greatest process of learning is knowing what you do not know and looking to those who do.

What I do know is how to resist the established thought for me own--to be told over and over I'm crazy for living differently until it is the norm, and how to say unfavorable truths to medicine kids in the throws of addiction who have only stories of use and addiction to share, disembodied, who are bored of esoteric wisdom, whose elders are quietly either in addiction themselves or manipulating them and encouraging it for money, I have shared my wisdom.

This exploration I have resisted since I broke down the willow of a lodge threatening to charge and threw it in the fire. A bit thunderbird of me, but "I kin me." This trend I silently observed in my heart welcomed and watched as the wealthy and humble sat circle together, then some took over every indigenous circle and spiritual realm shifting it into yet another rat race for financial flow.

​Grateful for financial flow, wealth was not my objection, the shift in dominant focus was.

I retreated further from technology, my generation, and spirit family into jungles to quietly do the work of touching one body at a time. I flourished in someways and in others felt two things 1. like a ghost and 2. like a caricature phantom of my previous self.

Resisting only to resist. In a cyclic thought about how to protect the spirit of teachings that taught me freedom in my spirit, the power of connecting to Source, in health and vitality and mostly in relationships.

I have, and we all know the danger of judgement, but also I questioned the difference between discernment and judging behaviors and actions. Why? Because of my own time as teenager crying for visions, needing rite of passage overdosing seeking God in acid, cocaine, and alcohol and leaving body to find death ancestors and pain pulling me back into body so that spirit compelled me to serve young, old, sick, my own family and adopted. For protection. Looking into my own heart, " I kin ye."

I was always two people, both too old wearing my grandmother's shawl and wise enough to know what habits age, that there are grey spirits that feed through us their own addictions, and a teacher who acted surrogate mother to many teens needing adults who refused to parent or guide, too busy caught up in the age of youth beauty and riches. Forgive my fighting, some experiences have taught me patterns and cycles I do not wish to replicate. Discernment. I could not unknow what I knew.

I look up from my heart. Resistance and judgement, to protect myself from my former selves. A third woman arises. She sees youth and fun are still here glowing and glimmering. She observes the power of medicine, time, the changing of generation as new generation elder teachers guide soften and learn to parent, to sober, to think, to consider future, pay attention. Next generation. My spirit family tribe. Where is the door back in?

Acceptance.

I began to again focus on beauty, joy and devotion.

From the outside of tribe, I gather those in outer circle to enclose, embrace and pull in towards the safety of inner circle. Bring back together strays. Rejoice. Open. Learn again.

Clear the black web of separation, change my words, address my own human heart pains, make contact. Calls to people I let go too long, travelling no longer valid excuses. Well springs burst again and what seemed lost is found. That for the youth I touched in my idealistic phase--a circle is now drawn around me--spiraling back loved, awakened to higher-mind meditations of devotion, elements, song, dance and the simple things that give community meaning.

The ceremony of life.

I see them, this young generation of medicine people will be both an evolved version of the best minus the fight for the way has now been paved. They are safe to commune with the invisible realms and supported in vision. These ones hold the sacred, like Paradise, in their hears. It can't be taken. These are the ones honoring their bodies, taking care of the Earth, trusting the power of prayer, and holding a higher form of love creed that transcends all dogma.

These ones bring me back to life. Their words and actions are medicine and, though they work with plants, WHO they are is the salve not what they use, and not in excess.

The second group of young ones become grotesque caricatures of charlatan teachers (in the old days tribal elders in tipi were drug and alcohol counselors) lacking ethics and foundation to hold them steady. They imitate behaviors and language but mock God and Spirit, engage in consumption to extremes that will deplete dopamine stores and create physical/ mental disease. They are not medicine for the people, but have only words to downplay the Armageddon of soul.

Pictures, not only of garden, adorned my spiritual upbringing but the ways people would choose darkness in empty choices, false pursuits, and addictive behaviors also were present.

When I began to see the trend of addiction and tainted places of worship in which I used to seek sanctuary, I left.

More concerned with free mind and healthy body, I focused on what saved me from the path of nowhere, empty. I took firm stances and cut off relations. I now know this was itself a blind eye, fixated on shadow, and I was momentarily building a firewall. Looking inward at my own ego, my own addiction to cyclic stories, my transient nature, and the quest for the infinite became finitely fixed on human pursuits, my own failures that led to dust.

As I stopped travelling, the wall fell and the karmic train dustily piled up now cleared and quiet. Tangled heart are free. Relationships re-established. And, though I love that I've gotten younger than I was when young, the expression kiddo being used by several elder women in my life have awakened my wizened heart. I am not a child, although relationships have always been my little girl cry.

To heal, the story must circle.

Zonia?
Yes?
How long does it take to heal?
As long as it takes to spiral back to the point of confusion, to tell the story until you are either bored, have better experiences that define you anew, or collect more data until you refute that idea which is making you sick.
What if I get so far into it I forget where I am trying to go?
Other people are more likely to forget you than you are, hold close to your heart, trust, you will come out the other side.

I remember during my morning oceanic embryonic brew that one of my favorite pictures of this spiritual warfare was a ring of self-induced chaos and confusion, fire wherein in the middle is paradise and the humans highly tuned to nature, surrounded by the love of people from all of Earth, devoted in their heart to spirit, are protected, peaceful, kind, happy, and truly free.

This is my tribe. My spirit family. So in love. So in their hearts.

Independent of others for extreme riches or expenses, their simplicity leaves little barriers between a real life with a fit body and a shimmering heart.

This to me is the true meaning of THRIVE.

Protecting these things that are of value is the next generation's mission. At one with the elements they wish to safeguard our waters flowing from Mother's breast, the Earth from which all beings grow be it food, animal, plant, human, the air we breathe, to live in tune with the metal of their hearts vibrating towards all life and ever in harmony with human destiny to love--to hold--to connect--to heal that which has been structured to separate us from the power to choose light.

Money is not god, but it can be used by godlike people in order to create new systems. It can be a great ally. Welcome it and fixate our hearts on opportunity, stewardship, education, connection, health, joyful celebration, and lasting experiences.

For the Indigos who fought to clear the path and karmic relationships for this new generation, may there be understanding for this our kin. Current world consciousness arising was not won easily and though it proliferates in words and beauty, there is still much to do, but may we birth into the circles of safety and joy. May love draw us into the light. May we be taught again the idealistic beauty of faith and love's devoted contemplation.

I accept the new generation of true medicine people as my teachers and return again to basic lessons with a beginner's mind.

To know what it is I do not know and allow the love flowing to enter me dissolving all barriers between me and its people. Young, old, mid-life--let us hold hands and be family. Sing praises. Recall our medicine hearts to our friends, elevate desires for life to continue and also have the strength to face still resisting corruption with a shining spirit. True inspiration breathes life and creates unity.

Let us breathe together, then, and remember desires of the heart drive all action and determine not only our own destiny but of the entire human race.

Sitting swaying bench, I look into my prayerful hands and see the light of gratitude I felt myself reaching for, it is here with me and I hold it close. Nothing to resist, calling safety into my field. Heart to heart with all living beings, pulling me forward, connected, friendly, hopeful, healed, and a I feel a golden shower of happy rain down upon me in sunlight through the leaves like medicine to my soul.

Years ago now, when loved ones of mine experienced wildfires, I sent a message that to them, even me, seemed ridiculous, but in the time that has passed since, I have come to appreciate the metaphoric language of surveying the wreckage of life.

Make piles of screws and nails.

Of course I knew then, as we all do, there will be heavy machinery that will plow through the aftermath but the eye trained on the small treasures will turn towards the ashes, get low to the ground look for screws and nails, as in

"Focus on the little things that will help you rebuild."

Find the surviving garden gnome and, in the silence that follows mourning wildlife and places of long held memory, put these little things as a symbol that which endures, for the wild flowers that will bloom, for the now germinated seeds of forest that, laying in wait for the heat, sprouts life.

And yourself, stooped and surveying years of work ahead, will also become a symbol of community, humanity, that continues to love, grow, give, sing, and celebrate. In the years that follow, you will watch life return, not only to your own heart, but to those around you.

In the end the surrender of old memories, will birth and everything will be made new again.

Since I've stopped traveling and come to a stop, with the dust settling behind me, I have surveyed what is left of the life I had before I began. I think about the nearly two decades of backpacking I spent walking 12-14 hours a day. In what direction?

"I always knew my heart would guide my feet in the direction where my vibration would be needed even if I didn't understand why I was there," one of my best friend Mags says about the journey.

This she says in response to my questioning my lone path, the many people, places and things I have lost along the way, some in give away more than I have generosity, some in "three moves is a fire," and some lost in true Thunderbird will not put up with that kind of behavior style.

For the latter, I find myself standing up out of the ashes of my life and the many choices I have made to follow the way for me. Close to the ground and the little things, I catch myself searching for nails and screws.

What are the little things that remain to put myself and my life, pre-27 year old Saturn return travel cycle Apache vision quest initiation back together?

One peace.

The life of living in a 7 mile radius and never leaving for years. The life of a teacher who touches the lives of at-risk teens who have no adults guiding them into the lives they are seeking. The life of a woman innocent and still believing in forever love, faith in an active force moving through me and guiding me to lakes, forests and tress.

This me, even those who knew me then, have to really focus to remember.

I am focusing to remember. Recovering from the quest for infinite potentiality. Infinite me's. Infinite loves. Infinite fantastical dreams. Infinite crafts and talents. Infinity, as in, never ending rabbit holes.

True power lies in one love.

One you. The complete version, as opposed to the characature in the jungle. One place, as in funnel your energy into home community.

Visit potentiality, but safeguard what is true.

This I realize after trying to move to Maui to be with my much younger boyfriend. My youngest nephew calls, he is seeking adult influence during a transition and almost jumps on a plane. For him, I leave. for myself, knowing that I will never find true peace if it doesn't exist in my family.

I keep this and my deep felt responsibility for family in my heart and make a new life closer to him and his now thriving family. I cut off social media when a group of women laugh at my not being able to make Maui life last.

"We all talked about it and knew you wouldn't last."

I hear this, and my private life becomes profound. As in Huna style keep secret like a seed under ground, show people only the flower. I realize not everyone is praying for my success. I realize that putting my whole life for all to see elicits all responses. How affected are each of us by the thoughts people have when looking at our pictures, discussing our lives? I believe more than we realize, after all people charge money for distance reiki, that is someone to conjure a picture of us in the mind and send thoughts which are energy our way.

So much of my life is still private. Glimpses, yes. All the details, all the precious finds from the ashes of my life, those are for me and my closest loved ones. The ones who call and talk voices to voices. The ones who visit, sit face to face.

Connection is not an idea. It takes time, shared memories, something I didn't always have to settle grievances in a timely manner. Small things become big. Biggest lesson of the cedar bag. Heal relations. Say what is true in your heart. Allow misperceptions and injury to be cleared. Allow love to enter into all your spaces.

I finally have my own space. It's not temporary. It's my home.

I pass through anxiety about losing it. I pass through anxiety of people trying to take it. I pass through the anxiety that there will be those who don't believe I deserve it. I pass through the sitting in it alone after years of seeking home with partners.

I tell my friend who’s house I rent. She wells with tears as she expresses how happy she is I am home, how much she appreciates the work I’ve done, and how the work I’m doing on the house is a blessing. I feel loved, safe, welcomed, wanted. I pray to be surrounded by more friends like her.

I fall asleep. Deeply asleep for a month after assisting my nephew with his new baby. I'm a great aunt. Somehow the first generation under me made it to adulthood and generations move forward. I find peace, like paradise after Armageddon. Everything gets quiet.

I start social media up again after finding it difficult to navigate community events. I realize that technology is so prolific that I am in social isolation. I hear a song by Steve Gold, "Isolation wears an ugly face." I realize that I used to think of Facebook as a form of isolating ourselves from direct personal contact, but I am out of a loop, or should I say newsfeed, and many people have broken dependency to tool status. Still 500 likes is not equal to one phone call or cup of tea.

These I offer to friends.

Can I protect myself this round from self-consciousness, anxiety and fear over my truths and writings, from those who compare and seek not the best but the holes, the fragility, the vulnerability, the humanity. It is there to be sure. I can assure myself and others of that. I never have proclaimed to have the answers. Just a mind full of never stop asking questions, an educators view of the world, produce your own content. As in higher order thinking skill, aka think for yourself.

My gratitude smiles fills my heart with laughter, a thing I do even when I'm nervous and always at what would be considered "inappropriate" times. Buddha, you right, we funny.

​ People who come to me will find that I give less advice, sometimes a channelled word, but mostly a yep been there done that life goes on sometimes we get it right listening ear and lots of love flowing from my hands.

Focus on the life I have now.

Reactivated. So many friends and acquaintances. Life has moved along. Children aren't babies, they are in college. I find myself on there. I visit my albums. Some pictures are missing. First round breakups, I never could delete them all because I know I wasn't in those moments alone. To erase them is to have giant holes and forgotten memories keepers burned in the fire. Forgotten forever. Perhaps this would be best, but for the lovers I no longer stay in contact with, I cherish the energy they have birthed inside of me, the memories that make up the tapestry of the story of my life, the keys to love I have learned. One of which is, STAY.

I remember talking to two lovers at the resort where I lived after another relationship burned to the ground, not out of flakiness but out of a calling to serve 300-500 people a season in the jungle, to financially rebuild my life and the younger generations, and be allowed (by the loving family I have in Mexico) to become my whole self. They tell me, the next time you are really in love, don't leave, no matter what.

Really in love with a place, with your life, a full realization that you could never trade in for anything better. This isn’t infinite potential, it’s real. This is it. It’s not perfect, just yours. You are in love and your brains, the thinking that spirals you out, have fallen out of your head like the double rainbow on mushrooms day in kalalau Kenny’s 32 birthday.

Love is staying. Staying in love is practice. Practice is cherishing. Cherishing is holding close. I remember reading a quote, "I knew that if anyone was going to take me seriously, I had to slow down."

Slow. The speed of searching through the rubble for the little nails and screws that you can easily rebuy, but these ones, they actually held your house together. They are special. Everything isn't gone, you are still there to discover them. Will you find them all? Will you really do this for the whole property? No, if by chance you even started, you will give up. Maybe you will pick up one or two and, then, see that cleanup is bigger than this, and let go. You'll never be able to save what little things are left.

Surrender the past and everything associated with it.

Start over. Let ash piles burn to fine dust. Unpack the ancestral momentos you saved from the flames, they are the most important part of your story.

Rebuild with new love, no memories from past holding back your future forward growth. Find more strength than you knew and burst your heart open wide to tears to laughter, to feeling and let life overtake you with her magical ability to go on, to thrive, to refill your life with everything you lost, in a new form.

This we call resurrection.