Saturday, January 28, 2012


Tara looked at Gordon’s handwriting and winced. Distance, she thought, he keeps people at a distance. Her thoughts rambled as much as her mouth usually did, but this time she looked quietly, carefully. She studied not the words, but the strokes of his pen, the width between the words, the depth and pressure and angle of his letters, sentences, and words. She paid attention to how he dotted his “i’s” and the details of his “t” crossings.

Tara knew that handwriting analysis was a science, and was even used by professionals in a court of law to analyze criminal behavior, but for her it was a serious hobby, and even one she used when in investigative mode, or when interviewing people. She knew enough to be able to read when people had issues, or not, and even things they kept secret from the rest of the world, such as their sexual drive and habits, if they had health problems in a certain area of their body, if they were selfish, generous, close-minded, had self-deception, or even if they were compulsive liars.

Tara studied Gordon’s “y” and “g” strokes, contemplating his sexual drive. Yes, he had a healthy drive and knows what he likes. She smiled, especially considering they had been dating long distance, but had not yet been physically intimate. She anticipated no problems in the bedroom.

Emotional, but not exceedingly so… very direct… great imagination… he’s protective, and perhaps even a touch too trusting. Tara considered the latter, especially since the distance he kept from people was obvious in the writing sample Gordon had just prepared for her. Perhaps it is a protection mechanism, rather than being aloof?

“I cry at the drop of a hat,” he finally spoke, peering over her shoulder in sheer curiosity, “does that show up there?”


Tara did not look up, although her eyes darted around the unlined paper, scanning over the letters, paying attention to his loops, and the downhill-to-uphill sentences. “Courage,” she finally said aloud, “you have great courage in the face of adversity.” She suddenly got a glimpse of both his distancing, as well as his sensitivity. “You feel down sometimes, and get discouraged, but ultimately you pull yourself out of it,” she told him. Luckily his “d’s” did not show too much sensitivity to criticism. She knew he would not blow up or get defensive if she told him something negative.

Gordon looked at her, noticing her long brown hair, soft cheeks, and blue eyes as she studied his handwriting. He admired her ability to see sides of him that he normally kept hidden, and for some reason he trusted her more than most people.

Tara felt his eyes upon her and glanced up for the first time, smiled warmly, and leaned over to kiss him. He responded in kind; their lips met, touching ever so softly. She noticed Gordon’s eyes were the same color as her own, and that they sparkled when he looked at her. She adored his sweet, handsome face and full, supple lips. Her heart melted as he placed his arms around her from behind.

Sighing deeply, Tara then turned again back to the paper in her hands, trying not to think about her emotional state since she knew she still had stars in her eyes, much like how she felt when she was a school girl with a crush on a boy. Yet here they were, adults in their 40’s, starting fresh with each other after having split up from their separate long-term relationships a year or so prior. They hadn’t known each other quite a full month yet, but she was ready for this relationship. She looked for evidence that he might be ready too, or that he might not be, whatever tale the handwriting would tell her as it stared back up at her from the paper. The seriousness returned to her face.

Gordon readjusted his position, waiting to hear what she might say next.

Tara spoke, “What happened to you that you keep people so far away?” Gordon did not expect a question so intrusive.

“I don’t know…” he shuffled his weight. “Perhaps it has to do with when my dad died. It affected me pretty severely.”

“Tell me about that.”

“What is there to tell? I was very close to him, and he suffered for many years before he left us. When he was gone, it devastated me, but that was a long time ago now.”

Tara noticed his eyes welling up with tears. He had just told her that he cried easily, and for the first time she was witnessing it. Gordon rubbed his face, wiping away the tears, and choked back his emotions, “I’m sorry…”

“No need to be sorry; it’s not your fault. I didn’t mean to make you dredge up the past like that…” yet she knew she had indeed asked a question that required a deep answer. She suddenly regretted that she had asked it to begin with. Handwriting analysis was often an emotionally charged process, especially when you begin seeing parts of peoples’ souls. She realized he was a very sensitive man, and that the distance he kept people at was a form of protection for himself, to keep him from getting hurt too easily. She did not want to be the source of such pain.

Gordon gathered himself, and then she told him all of the details about him that she had seen in his handwriting, trying to keep it more positive. He was fascinated by it all.

They talked at length about their lives apart, and how they were now enjoying each other’s company so much. The spoke about their hopes, and dreams, and even what their favorite foods were, old pets they had in the past, and even memories from their childhoods.

As the hours passed, their intimacy grew, and they found themselves lying on the couch together, embraced in intertwined arms, face to face, kissing, holding, and gently caressing each other.

“I love being with you Gordon,” Tara expressed herself directly. He looked at her and paused, then he said, “Are we an item?” She smiled nonchalantly and replied, “Of course we are a couple…” but he didn’t say anything and just stared at her for a few moments. She asked, “Don’t you think so?” but her words had already evoked a response in him she didn’t expect. He began crying softly, finally letting it out.

“I didn’t realize just how much being a couple meant to you until this moment,” Tara said as she kissed his tears, tasting them upon her lips.

Tara considered, and then whispered, “You asked me something earlier today…”

“Yes?” Gordon swallowed hard.

“You asked if I could see in your handwriting whether or not you cried at the drop of a hat.” Tara took a moment to form her words, but decided to just be blunt. “I did not see that one coming. I mean, I would have never guessed it before today, and I did not see it in what you wrote either.”

She realized that sometimes handwriting analysis was not enough to tell everything about a person. Sometimes simple human interaction was a far better indicator of the nature of the heart’s greatest desires, as well as a person’s needs. She knew he needed her. She also knew she needed him back.

Tara held Gordon for a good long time until he sighed deeply. “I love you Gordon,” she said to him. “I love you too, Tara.”

She placed her head on his chest, near the crook of his arm, which made him feel like a man again. He wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her tightly. They held each other for the longest time, completely in their own bliss.

The paper with the handwriting sample that laid on the coffee table by the couch, went unnoticed.

Friday, January 27, 2012


I woke up and began a juicing diet for cleansing. It was appropriate to start the morning this way because it felt like a day of new beginnings and fresh perspectives on life. I was to visit my best friend, and then to go visit my other friend for an energy healing and attunement session.

Driving to see my best friend, the clock read 12:12. I knew it was a sign. I always see the 1’s and 2’s in repeating form, together or alone, or sometimes mirrored or reversed. My birthday is on the 21st (July) so I also see 7’s (I was born in ’70 so also see 0’s, or any combination of these numbers), as well as a couple other numbers, synchronistically. Continued driving to my best friend’s house and had a great conversation about knowing the different parts of ourselves, and how these different parts affect us and our thinking. This was relevant, because when I left there I drove to see another friend of mine for the energy healing work. It was time in my life to go to the next level, to attain the Master/Teacher level in Reiki, even though I had broken the mold of the traditional lineage. This was a new day, and it was time to learn things a new way.

My original Reiki Master, from back in the mid-1990’s, had taught Reiki I, II, and III in four parts, separating out the third part into “III” and “Master-Teacher” levels, instead of combining them into one class. At the time I did not mind since I was not interested in teaching energy work or healing techniques to anyone at a master or teacher level, so I skipped the last class, being happy with a Reiki III Practitioner level attainment. However, time, and experience, and becoming ordained (Interfaith) over the years had changed all of this. It was time to move forward into what is in my stars to become… a spiritual teacher and healer.

Energy. It is all about energy. Everything is energy. Everything.

Nothing is exempt.

The universe is made up of the stuff, and energy can sometimes be used in place of the word “spirit,” or even “thoughts,” or “intention,” or “manifestation” because it is all simply energy. All atoms, which permeate the universe, are part of this energy. All chemical reactions require energy. All neurons, firing away in our brains, rely on energy. Cellular function, and gravity, and even sleeping require energy. The Chinese call the “life force” of this energy chi. It is in everything, and is in fact, everything itself. I am energy, you are energy. Without it we would all be dead. Energy truly is the life force.

So as I sat at my friend’s house awaiting my energy attunement, we talked about realizing who we are in life, our true purpose, our reason for being, and our real essence, our real self. We are the reflection of what we think and do, no? No. We are the light, the source itself, as the sun, not the reflection of that light. We are the Energy of the universe itself. Part of it, and yet are it. If we want to find our inner power, we must realize that we are not powerful, no… we are Power itself. We must learn to say I am Power. I am Joy. I am Happiness. I am Success. I am Healing. I am Energy. We are the I AM of being, whole, and complete, and are the universe within, just as we live within the universe. We are not separate from it any more than it is separate from us.

Even those who follow the Bible have heard the verse that says “The kingdom of God is within you…” (Luke 17:20-21). It is something within everyone, no exceptions. It is available to all and does not discriminate.

I am Energy. I am all that is. Through this we co-create. We form miracles. We function completely from out of that place rather than attempting to function some part of ourselves, which is limited.

We discussed how this kind of thinking, and realization of who we really are as I AM should not be limited by lower thinking and labeling, such as the bodies we live in, or the limitations we may have in life, or circumstances that seem to get in the way of our advancement. If we associate ourselves with limited thinking, we ARE limited at that moment, because we believe it to be so. If we think we cannot heal someone with energy because it is too hard, or takes energy outside of ourselves, or may affect us by reducing our own energy, then that kind of thinking is faulty and needs to be replaced with the knowing that the universe is infinite and full of available energy to draw upon, and which we ARE already, within and without. It is neither good nor bad, but labeling it as such, or limiting it in our minds, can alter the course of what could otherwise happen or manifest as a positive power in someone’s favor for healing.

These parts of ourselves, how we see ourselves, is all important. Our power is great because I AM power. We do not gain power, we are power. Our success is imminent because I AM success. We do not gain success, we are success. It goes on and on like this, and how we limit our view of ourselves can alter our destiny, or at least the moment in which we live and breathe. Take a deep breath, and do this three times. It is that easy to decide to do, and when we do it we succeed at that task.

Feeling energy, and working with healing energy to help people with aches, pains, soreness, injuries, or even emotional or mental trauma, all boils down to being energy, and balancing that energy so the body and mind can heal themselves. Tapping into the source, which I AM, is what brings that healing at unmeasured levels. It is all about dancing with that energy to balance it. This is what I learned today.

So today, as I was attuned and accepted my place in the universe as the powerful and joyous and grace-receiving being that I AM, I thanked my friend for opening up within me this beautiful gift that will flow onto others. It was not new information, but it was exactly what I needed to hear and see and feel and know, today, to receive the energy healing for my own soul, so I could move on and teach and help others.

After all, it is the Master/Teacher that I AM that already knows this, and taps into this bountiful healing energy of the universe and overflows it onto and into others.


SunStar Angel

Tuesday, January 24, 2012


It hits me in the heart, and deep in the stomach. I remember it well, this feeling of gut-wrenching emotional pain. It strikes like a sudden thrust of a sword, straight into the center of my being when I feel someone pull away, or appear as such. Separation anxiety is not just a scab to the spirit, it is the ripping energy that opens the sore back up, exposing the bleeding fresh and new, within an old, old wound, reopened over time again and again.

Thinking on the past, and how we were married and lived as lovers, and how the thought of you pulling away would have made me feel that anxiety, that stripping away of my soul. Yet you were not the one to do it. I did it to you instead.

Here I sit on the brink of divorce, having taken so many steps toward that end over the last few years. You, who were taken from me years ago, and then I who moved across the country to “fix” myself and heal from the open wounds that came from that separation. First you left my presence, but not by your own volition. Then me, whom left your presence, this time by my choice. What kind of wife was I? What kind of person am I now, to leave for good? In every possible way except the right one? Am I shallow, or weak, or of immoral character? My demons eat at me, gnawing like gremlins at the metal of my cold heart.

Yet every choice is fraught with pros and cons, for nothing is ever perfect or balanced or even unbalanced completely – every extreme is weighed by some opposites. We had many opposites involved, and the legal case agreed with the universe this time, that 100% of our efforts would be fruitless, and would fail, or would backbite with a consequence beyond our ability to deal with it. We lived to that end of us, which was the beginning of the end of us now, today, through this divorce. I file the paperwork very soon. I will send it to you to sign, so it can be filed… 90 days seems like such a long time, but compared to the last few years it will fly by. A marriage on paper, over distance, through time. I feel I am at the beginning, and a new cycle has come upon me.

Today I read about someone else’s separation anxiety, and whoa(!) did it dredge up the memories in me. Why I fell apart when you were removed from my life. It spurred a letter to all our mutual friends, to tell them why you and I must remain friends yet be divorced as husband and wife. I have moved on. It was past time.

I have healed, and I know that this is true, because your separation from me, although bringing up memories from the wounds of the past, they simply remain in the past and I do not feel that same open wound that I did then. I am able to let go of you now. I am able to relieve the tension between us that has been there through my step-wise fashion of allowing you to move on without me, and vice versa. Yet somehow I feel that the separation anxiety is now being felt by you, because of me. I blame myself. I understand the guilt. I accept the consequences. I know it must be done. This time you were holding on, and I just simply lost my grip. I opened my hand, and released your last hold on me. And all this time I thought it was I that was holding on, holding everything together…

You, and I, not being the only ones with separation anxiety – it must be known that we’ve all felt it in the past; we’ve all gone through it as children, and as adults. Most everyone, this separation anxiety. I am always the one to let go first. I always leave. This time I didn’t want to, yet I felt forced by the powers that be. It took me years, but I finally gave in. I have let you go. It is done. I see your hand grasping for me, and finally dropping down by your side, also giving in. It must be, because the powers of the universe demanded it long ago, and it took us this long to see it. Your destiny is now complete. Now you can be free. Free of me. I am also free of you. We are free, together, by being fully apart. By letting go, and being completely separate. Whatever fated us together, also fated us toward this end. It was foretold, yet we refused to give in to it for the longest time.

So now, while you sit and cry, going through your separation anxiety, while preparing your way into the future that will be yours, and yours alone, I sit and write, and go through a different kind of anxiety. One subdued, while learning to trust in knowledge of knowing, and realizing the gut that shows baggage can truly be shed, and that hearts can mend, and trust again.

I just pray that the man who holds me now, will hold me until the end of time in grace and love, and not let me go the way I have let you go. I pray he holds me tightly, forever, and that neither of us (he and I) ever have to feel this kind of separation anxiety again. Even more so it is my greatest wish that I don’t let go of him the way I have to you. He will not let me go if I tried. This is why I am here. This is why if I feel any old-wound pangs of temporary separation anxiety, nudged from the past, but that do not belong in the present, and refuse to enter the future, that they will fade, because I shall choose to sit by him and not leave him alone. I have learned this lesson only recently; to stay… to find compassion that wipes away separation anxiety in one single stroke. So easily it was felt and realized. Such grace upon my life now. It falls upon me like a soft, warm blanket being spread out over my soul and within my entire being.

Separation anxiety no longer has a place here. The wounds are old, and healed, and none of life’s blunt strikes can open it asunder. The lives affected move on and see new growth, new life, and new power. New love brings separation anxiety to its knees, and the karmic end to our (your and my) life together has closed a hole in time that was overdue. It is done. Separation anxiety no more.

Sunday, January 15, 2012


Kenny was such a cute little baby, but he was so sensitive and cried easily, even if someone just looked cross at him. Later, as he grew, he learned to hold his emotions inside and not show them as much because people called him a “cry-baby.” He was so sensitive that he would cry at the drop of a hat, yet he had a hard time controlling him when it hit him. He didn't like being a cry-baby.

Kenny's birthday was all he dreamed it would be, except for that one thing that happened that day... he cried. It was his 8th year on this earth, and somehow, he felt, it was supposed to be his special day. Yet he was disappointed in his party, and that the friends he enjoyed most could not come. His mom yelled at him for crying, “Boys shouldn't cry,” which made things worse. He felt inadequate for crying on his birthday.

Kenny, at age 12, was hit by a baseball bat in the groin, and again, he cried. This was a pain like no other pain he had ever felt. Kenny fell to the ground, coiled up in a ball, holding what was left of his balls, nearly fainting from the agony. He noticed only that a single kid was laughing at him, but then shut his eyes, squeezing out tears, unable to see anything else. He hated crying.

Kenny, later went by the name Ken, since he was 16 and much too old to be called by nicknames. His first real, deeply felt crush, Jennifer, was the talk of the town... although she had been rather homely in her younger years, everyone remarked how she had blossomed both in physical beauty, with rounded curves, as well as in mental smarts. Ken decided to grab his courage and asked Jennifer out, but she declined him, and his heart sunk instantly to the pit of his stomach, and down to the lowest part of his belly. Feeling rejected, he went to the bathroom stall to get away from prying eyes, where he cried silently, ashamed of his own tears.

Ken, at age 30, sat at his dad's bedside, watching as his father had wasted away to skin and bones. The cancer had taken his livelihood, and later the rest of his health, as well as his dignity. Ken felt so helpless, so powerless to change what had occurred over the years to his gentle-natured father, and he felt it was not fair. Life was not fair; it was not what he expected it should be, and people, as well as professional people, were simply not as reliable as they made out. He was angry, and sad. As his father took his last breath, Ken held him in his arms. Ken cried, and cried. On and off, Ken cried for years, and his sadness overcame his abilities to suppress crying. He felt like a girl because of crying so easily and so much.

Ken met Katheryn at age 42, and they hit it off immediately. Having been single for much of his life, with short and long-term girlfriends coming and going over time, he was ready for what Kathryn brought to his life. They just loved being together. She touched his life and heart like no other. They talked about their future together, and made plans and goals that were part of both of their dreams. One day, as Kathryn wrote him a song and sung it to him, he realized her words of love were so deep and true, and he found himself weeping from sheer happiness! He apologized for crying so easily, as he had always done, but she just held him close and said, “Baby, I love that you can cry, and that you can show me who you really are inside. I am amazed at the beauty of your sensitivity, and love your tears. It is one of the many things that attracted me to you the most.” She kissed his wet face, tasting the salty tears that streamed down his cheek. Her own eyes welled up and they just held each other, smiling and crying together. This changed his values about crying.

Ken realized that crying wasn't so bad after all... it was part of who he was, and it was okay. Crying made him realize his sensitivity actually portrayed him as having great strength of character, and gave him a sense of worth as a man who could relate to people, especially his dearest love. It touched Kathryn in a positive way, and he realized it could touch others, and so from then, forward, Ken chose to cry whenever he felt he needed to, or felt to. Crying was good, necessary, and a welcome release. Crying, he thought, is important.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012


my precious man
you melt my heart
smiling wide
silly and goofy
and making me laugh
I adore you...

you fill my soul
with giggles
and millions of cute mouse kisses
making my heart glad

pressing faces
cheek to cheek
arms wrapped
around and around
legs intertwined
we rest
we happily invade
each others space

mushy moments
romantic interludes
Eskimo kisses
rubbing noses
we kiss lips
we hug
we sigh
we coo

and sad
we share alike
supportive words
gentle touch
you cry
and I kiss your tears
and taste their saltiness
we just “be”

eyes shut
I kiss your lids
holding you tight
I listen to you breathe
inhale your breath
take in your essence
the beautiful spirit
that is you

we have it all
we love the presence
of each other
and our love

my heart rejoices
when you sing
to me
when you touch
and hold me
and tell me
you love me

thank you for loving me...

I love YOU too!