I wasn’t always afraid of the water, I grew up in Crystal Lake, Illinois, swimming in the crystal clear water and other area lakes at every opportunity and truly loved being a mermaid. But then came the dawn of JAWS and my swimming career was effectively halted. I remember trying to drown out my fears by singing to myself as I swam, in an attempt to not think about that shark and it’s reign of terror, but I sank in the fear of it all. One last swim in Crystal Lake at summer’s end, a snapping turtle poked it’s head up in front of mine and snapped at me — it was officially over. More sea-terror movies were rolled out, which effectively sealed the deal: Barracuda, Piranha, JAWS 2, JAWS 3, JAWS 4 (*cough*), Creatures, Tentacles, Titanic, ETC., I became content to stroll along the shores, even in the most docile of waters. The fear was big and silent and I gave into it.
Because if I swam, it would look like this:
I sometimes get a little embarrassed that so much of my life became unhinged (and is still unhinging) after my mom’s death. I hear a voice back there “yeah get over it already, it’s been two years now, do your thing whatever, stop talking about it!”
I understand grief knows no bounds, yet why am I quick to scrutinize and criticize myself when I find myself still grappling with it? Oy, the personal pangs that tug at me in the wee hours of the night when no one is looking, oy oy oy.
It’s true, I still struggle with grief and the confusion from everything that is now different in my life — I am mostly okay with my evolution, but some confusion remains. I’m certain many of these changes were inevitable because of my age ta boot; as I approach 50, I understand with more compassion than ever that many women simply must re-invent, re-discover or re-up, or literally lose themselves. I have found many of Dr. Christiane Northrup‘s books and workshops have helped me sort my way through this with better clarity and assurance I’m not losing my marbles. My mom’s death was perhaps the the dime I turned on, bringing with it new opportunities and exciting adventures, although — in hindsight — I can see it was going to happen no matter what. I was ready to shed my skin.
On Mother’s Day, 2013, I put my mom’s ashes in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin on a brutally cold and windy May day. Her ashes flew up and around me like a tornado before they landed in the lake. It was surreal, for real. I was surprised to learn there’s a boat service available for people to put ashes in the lake, and I sometimes wonder how many people are in that lake?? Ashes-to-ashes, I don’t really care, but I do like that my mom is there. She wanted to be in Green Bay because of the Packers and I decided that was too far; I wanted to keep an eye on her in Lake Geneva. So began my frequent visits to the lake.
There is an amazing 22-mile walking path around the entire lake and as the cold spring turned to summer, I began to sink my toes into the water. And then I dangled my legs and stared deeply at the water. One day I jumped in and cried. This happened several times. I had lost so much… jobs, addresses, people, things… it was terribly scary because I had no idea how I would climb out of this hole, but I had faith and this lake helped me. I felt tingly energy all around me and something about my existence had been elevated — it was hard to explain, but everything was different. By mid-summer, I was helping myself to absent-summer-resident’s personal boat docks and full-on jumping into the cool waters of Lake Geneva and feeling the calmest I had ever felt in my life.
The summer of 2013 was an amazing, amazing summer and I am forever be grateful for all of it’s lessons.
I left Illinois mid-November of that year and life became very, very different. I had made a promise to myself that the rest of my life would be “magical”, although I wasn’t even sure what that meant, except that it was fodder for jokes — and I love good jokes. Guess what? My life has become magical in many ways, and while there are still mundane and challenging things about it as there should be, I am totally enjoying what my life has become. Call it magical or intentional, I love they way I feel in my skin these days. I miss the Midwest and my days in Lake Geneva — Chicago too, but life has carried on, as it should, and my dreams keep me close to it all. Someday I will be back.
I am having the good fortune of spending this winter in Mexico with Reed; first at the house in San Miguel de Allende, and then traveling through Central Mexico while he attends to business. Situated in a lovely situation here in Bucerias, Nayarit, Mexico, this past weekend we made plans to spend the day on a boat with Chica Locca Tours that promised whale watching, water activities, food and drink, snorkeling, cave diving; a day out at sea on a very comfortable boat. This group completely delivered and we had an amazing, amazing day. Well I did, for sure.
My fear of open water is still pretty HUGE and when we arrived off the Marieta Islands (“there’s only one way to get there, and that’s to swim for it!“), it was up to us to gear up and swim to the island, where the fun would continue. I did not read this bit in the brochure and my heart sank a mile or two when this was mentioned. I put the fins and snorkeling gear on and became a blubbering, quivering lip awash in a terrifying wave of fear. Everyone was jumping in the water and I stood at the edge of the boat, trembling — NO I could not do this. It was too far away and it was OPEN WATER for Christ’s Sake and surely I would be eaten alive by some monsterous sea creature before I hit the island. This was the OCEAN, did they not realize??! I whelped to the guys I could not do it, no way, my heart was going to explode out of my chest and I was not strong enough. I waddled to the back of the boat to take off my gear and pout it out.
I looked over to the ladder on the side of the boat and said, “fuck it, I will hate myself if I don’t do this.” With that, I jumped into the terrifying (not!) waters and swam to the island. Holy Moley it was gorgeous!
It was a gooooooooooooorgeous adventure and I am sooooooooooo glad I jumped in! We swam to the island and explored the caves and tunnels and dark holes that I thought for sure electric eels lived in and were waiting inside to kill me or eat me and guess what? They were no electric eels waiting in darkness to kill me nor eat me because they couldn’t care less about me! I was the happiest clam in the ocean this day!
After this awesome adventure on Gilligan’s Island, it was time to swim back to the boat. Oh shit….. who moved the boat soooooooooo far away?? It’s even farther away now because some dumb law says it can’t be too close to the island. I was never going to make it and oh my gawd I can’t breathe and so why not kick wildly and claw at the water as if there’s a magic rope to lead me home …
I totally panicked and gasped for air as I attempted to swim for several minutes; holy Mackerel I was scared! Wait. Stop it Meag!
I put my goggles on and looked down into the water and saw holy mackerels but no sharks. I knew I had to stop this panicking and rolled onto my back and looked up at the sky. I needed to breathe more normally and take myself out of the equation. A song came to me that I sang in the temescal a year ago; we sang this as a way to pass the time while sitting in pitch dark, soul-cracking, sweltering heat:
- One little, two little, three little Indians
- Four little, five little, six little Indians
- Seven little, eight little, nine little Indians
- Ten little Indian boys.
- Ten little, nine little, eight little Indians
- Seven little, six little, five little Indians
- Four little, three little, two little Indians
- One little Indian boy.
Whad’ya know, I made it to the boat safe and sound!
Again, I was the happiest clam in the ocean! I have been walking on my tippy-toes ever since this glorious day, even though every muscle in my body is sore, but it is a good sore, a sore I am grateful for; a soreness that reminds me I swam to the damn boat, RAWR!
I realize there are people in today’s world who are facing much bigger fears and maybe not by choice, but by fire and I by no means intend to compare to anyone’s challenges. This was a first world challenge, for sure. I believe I become a better person, first to myself and then to others, if I take an opportunity to break down any personal barriers that have held me back in life, or have kept me feeling fearful. There is a freedom that has grown within me in the past two years that has altered the course of my life and I, for one, choose to celebrate all of these personal achievements, great and small.
How I lost my lifelong membership to this club….
It occurs somewhere around mid-to-early-January, the drug stores aisles turn to a sea of red hearts, teddy bears and ageless chocolates, buttering us up for the next major holiday, Valentine’s Day. This day that will always undoubtedly prove the currency of my self-worth by the amount of Made-in-China crap purchased for me on this glorious rose-filled day. And oh! I need to make room for all the roses! I have personally always been a huge fan of this mid-winter test of my self-esteem.
*ahem* Noooooooooo, no I have not.
I don’t think I’ve ever had an awesome Valentine’s Day, in fact the only giggle-inducing-memory I have of this day was a first date with a boy in Mill Valley, California and we were at a pizza joynt that was slinging heart-shaped pizzas for the night. When the waiter finally came around to take our order, I began to ask questions and make special requests, à la Meg Ryan from “When Harry Met Sally“. The waiter was not having this on this very busy night and leaned over to be eye-to-eye with me, pointed his finger in my face and said rather sternly, “YOU SAID YOU WERE READY.” I turned beet red and ordered the veggie pizza. I kept my mouth shut… for a little while. The boy and I laughed about that for many months and I still use that line on occasion.
Although I never have been fired in this month — and I have been fired A LOT, February is the month that my divorce became final several years ago (February 15) and the month my mom passed away (February 13, two years ago). These hits to my heart turned out to be the hits that have helped me to grow up, wake up and move towards becoming the person I always hoped to be. It has been awful, lonely and tremendously sad, but in hindsight, the gift of crawling on my hands-and-knees through my emotional thunderstorms and muck has helped to shape me in the most profound and prolific ways.
I haven’t always been strong enough to weather my emotional storms; as a young woman I chose to drown my sorrows in a torrential downpour of booze and pills, and it truly is not easy for me to admit that on not one but two different occasions, I attempted to end my life with pills because the pain was unbearable — or so it felt. I was begging God to take me and found a way to get there, or perhaps I knew it was just enough to be a seriously loud cry for help. Looking back, both of these experiences seem like two very different yet terrifying out-of-body experiences. Even though I survived these attempts to snub out my life prematurely, I recall being terribly embarrassed that I was still here, oh my, I felt bad that I was still here. After the first time, I spent a few months in a hospital and I honestly loved my time there — my eyes were open for the first time in my life and it was incredible. The second time, my dad had me arrested and I spent time in a jail in Phoenix. Not long, but long enough to make a huge impression.
I think back to the Meagan I was and I can literally cry out loud for her, I was so lost and unclear about everything in my life. Heartbreaking, in a word, for me to think about these parts of my past, but also inspires me to never take a moment for granted. I now literally kiss the ground on occasion because I am so grateful to be here and to be given these opportunities to live life at the top of my lungs. I am still here. This is not lost on me at all.
Throughout my entire life, I have always thought there was something wrong with me. I was constantly searching for answers and seeking solutions to help me feel better and to feel right in my head. Even with ten years of sobriety, I struggled to feel at peace with myself, although I practiced and studied a number of healing modalities and therapies that for me, never really made much of a dent to lower the noise and restlessness I had in my head. I was always running, always searching, always asking, always researching for something to make me feel better. Nothing worked.
I eventually gave up and settled on living on the fringes once again, when I moved back to Chicago after the divorce. Meh, I didn’t care anymore, I was going to coast this thing out. I had been hiding out my entire life and now it seems that would be my lot in life…. to hide in the shadows and hopefully not be seen.
Two years ago, my mom became drastically sick. Well, she had been sick for years, but did her best to ignore all of it. But now she needed help, it was much larger than her. Everyone was gone, it was just she and I. My mom didn’t really like me to be around; we never did do well in the same room together, and it was not uncommon to go several months without seeing each other, even though we were neighbors. We spoke often and cared for each other deeply, we just knew our limits, mostly. These avoidance tactics went out the window when she got sick and I essentially walked away from my Chicago life when the call came in.
I will never forget the words my mom said to me, even though I brushed them aside at first. Sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, gripping the railings in an attempt to ease her excruciating pain, she turned back slightly to look at me and said, “I was wrong about you, Meag. I’m really sorry I was not nicer to you. I wish I was nicer to you. (lonnnnnnnng pause) I’m sorry Meag.”
Once I recovered from the funeral and whatnot, I awoke to discover that my mom’s words literally words melted a steel cage that had always lived around my heart and my life has since changed in every way possible since her deathbed apology. Well, actually I thought I was having a heart attack and ran to see my doctor, who told me I was trapped in a panic attack. Teh doctor prescribed xanax — noooooooooooo I wanted nothing to do with pills and rejected them. I went to see a naturopathic doctor and set myself off on a very green path that included lots of kale and magnesium to help my cortisol levels. I slept. I wrote. I walked. I did yoga. I cried. I left Chicago for good. I moved into my mom’s empty condo. I woke up.
I feel like a completely different person than I was a two years ago and I am extremely grateful for this completely unexpected gift my mom gave me. It was her love, her broken heart, her choice to unburden her heart, that has forever lightened my heart and turned my life around in the most profound way. I no longer believe there is something wrong with me. I have stopped searching for answers and I literally stopped harassing myself.
I am nice to me. I am nice to others. I like being nice. I can’t believe how good it feels to be nice.
I have met many women whose mothers have also passed away, who never had an opportunity to make peace with their mom before she left this earth. My heart goes out to these women for the pain I see in their eyes, but then again, I see the pain in many women’s eyes when it comes to their mother’s, alive or not. One universal truth, I have come to discover, is that our always-complicated and deeply profound relationship with our mothers affects every single area of our lives. I am not denying that men aren’t affected by their mothers as well, but I have not walked in their shoes, only my own, and I tend to gravitate towards women who wear their mother on their heart sleeves.
I am very proud to be Jule Francis McGovern Foster and Loren Pries Foster’s daughter, may they both rest in peace. I am no longer in the Broken Hearts Club because of the strength and love I learned from these two hearty souls — and it was no walk in the park with either of them. I now meet the challenges of my life with a full heart and eager curiosity. I take care of my heart, I value it and wow it’s a bit amazing what my happy heart says to me! The noise has been reduced, and I finally hear the wisdom within, wow wow wow wow wow.
I’ve been able to make amends for the mistakes I made in my marriage and I wasn’t sure if I would every have this opportunity. Reed is a huge part of my life once again and what an amazing gift this has been to make peace with him, Texas and Mexico. I no longer have hate in my heart, wow wow wow what a trip.
There is still so much to learn and experience and I am super-excited for this thing called my life.
I am tremendously grateful for all the heartache I have survived in my life, and I can’t believe it’s been two years since my mom flew away. I miss her so xx
I have had a ton of fun creating a series of weekly 15-second videos on Instagram (#newenergyin15), promoting good energy, raising your vibration and just plain feeling better by doing some simple exercises I have learned from my mentors, teachers and practices. It’s been a mind-and-energy-expanding year for me and I’m really excited to learn more because if there’s one certain thing I’ve come to accept, it’s that the more I know, the less I know — but therein lies my challenge.
I have plans to take my study of energy deeper in the coming new year; by developing a better understanding between my energy and my art through reiki, my drawings, Austin’s NIA dance community, t’ai chi, space clearing, energy medicine, intuition sharpening, meditation (uggggg, still) and how to translate this into a marketing opportunity. The study of energy literally gets me out of bed in the morning and I really have been blessed by seeing many facets of life with new eyes as I dive deeper into vibration and art.
I am so grateful for the lessons and opportunities of 2014 and look to 2015 with eager eyes and an open heart!
Here’s the New Energy in 15 Year in Review, thank you for following along, even if silently. I understand many of you are looking at me sideways these days and I take that as a good sign — I highly endorse flying one’s freak flag freely if it feels right w00000t!
It’s a heckuva lotta videos, take your time lol 😀
1) Brain exercises to break habits in thinking patterns
2) First unofficial New Energy in 15; Figure 8s!
3) Qi Gong move to open up the energy channels, called Slapping the Monkey (not really ok really)
4) My first on the road video from Hot Springs, AR; Get That Beach Ball! A qi gong movement to open up the spine
5) Ooops a blooper video from when I was at the NIA white belt training in Little Rock, AR and I forgot where I was:
6) Sun salutations on the Big Dam Bridge in Little Rock. I do this as often as I can; pulling up the earth’s energy into my legs and body makes such a difference throughout the day
7) The Hot Air Balloon Festival in Snowmass, Colorado was the perfect place for Heaven and Earth! I learned this and so much more from Donna Eden and her Eden Energy Medicine practices
8) Back at the ranch in Driftwood, TX, waking up the chi in the keyboard-tied hands by shaking them like a polaroid!
9) Harvest Moon with Radiant Hearts; another practice I learned from Donna Eden. My production team Henry & Bandito were on hand to make sure everything went smoothly
10) Scary Halloween time with all the EMFs we are getting bombarded by! I used to wear my iPhone in my back pocket; not anymore — I carry it in a satchel :)))
11) During the solar eclipse, I proclaim my gratitude to the sun by doing Heaven and Earth in a very dry Onion Creek
12) Thriller under the Austin Bat Bridge! I learned this grounding tip many moons ago; slap the perimeters of your body up & down to help you get back in your body and ground your thoughts. Breathe too!
13) More sun salutations and Donna Eden moves on the ranch; tap the meridian points on your face and at your collar bone and then beat your chest like Tarzan to help you wake up :))
14) We all get knocked down and we fall sometimes too and that’s okay Stuart Smalley! Keeping your balance in practice will help navigate this ups & downs
15) Good posture reminder heading into the holiday season! It can be stressful time but sometimes the little things can make a difference; like how you present yourself to family & friends. Sit tall, head held high and enjoy the ride
16) Thanksgiving sunset salutations in Santa Barbara; pulling the earth’s energy up and slapping the monkey as I thank the skies above for all the gifts of the year. I think we all can agree that we just feel better on a beach voila
17) The holiday madness! This is how NOT to do Donna Eden’s Triple Warmer! When done properly, it is a powerful way to renew your energy. More to come on this in 2015
18) Mall Madness! Another Donna Eden tip; the Hookup; pull your belly button and Third Eye up with your fingers and hold and breathe. Do this a few times to feel like you can tackle the world
19) The hills are alive! I took a singing lesson and fell in LOVE with how it can raise my vibration, and I have been in love with the Sound of Music for decades! Singing will literally move the Spirit in you and make you feel better
20) Our Power Center; Our Core. It’s where many of our hopes, dreams and creativity get trapped, not to mention sense of self. I do many things in life to wake up my core — and the hula hoop is a great way to do that!
That’s a lotta videos, whew! I hope your energy continues to improve in 2015 and thank you again for reading and watching my journey 😀 Happy New Year! xx
Another birthday is upon me and I wanted to acknowledge this year by doing something with my hands and not buying something, because quite frankly I can’t even force myself to walk into a shopping mall these days, even online shopping gives me the hives. I am a Country Mouse now and have millions of mouse friends to prove it out here in the Texas Hill Country. Quite happy with this and I am making the most of it, although I do miss the Big City life on occasion.
In early November, I met a Woodstock artist through Instagram named Wendy Piersall; she has created an amazing adult mandala coloring book that does wonders for quieting the mind. I have played around with zendoodles (or is it zentangle?) and the effect is similar; I start to loose my thoughts when I am lost in the patterns or colors, thereby reducing stress and worry. I may feel tense when I am about to start a doodle, but in no time I disconnect and lean into it, and the end result can be pretay cool!
I had also been doing some work with one of my energy healers in early November and she mentioned that my hands were screaming to say something. “What does that mean, should I write more?” I asked. “I don’t know, but you better put a pencil or paintbrush in them NOW.” It was true, my hands were on fire. I was constantly wringing them out like a Nervous Nellie and I had a tension in my clenched jaw that was driving me somewhat batty.
Wendy had started a 30-day 15-minute-a-day-art-project and on November 10th I said to myself, “Ohhhh for Petey’s Sake, I am going to do this 15-minute-a-day-art-project and when I am finished, I will have a nice little birthday present for myself!”
It was an awesome experience and I can totally see how I eased into trusting myself and really did let my hands do the work — after I warmed up to it. I was somewhat amazed by what was coming out of my hands and onto the paper; it had never been this easy before in my life, and I have tried many times over the years. My brother Sean is the artist, as was my mom, so I always had this feeling as if I was copying someone and thereby never really felt like an artist myself. Austin Kleon‘s books, “Steal Like An Artist” and “Show Your Work” helped me get over my unrealistic fears.
Several months ago, I started studying the practice of space clearing and have even begun the certification process to become a professional space clearer. Space clearing is the ancient practice of literally energetically clearing the space in one’s home, office, building, land, etc. It is a fascinating subject I took to immediately and have been practicing many of these ancient techniques here on the wide open Hill Country land I have the honor to call home these days. This has put me in touch with some Native American Indians, both in book and in spirit, and they too are coming through in my artwork.
I will talk more about space clearing later, as I have much more work to do before I am certified; I have to space clear 18 homes/properties before I am official, in case anyone is interested! (Seriously, contact me if you are interested in space clearing for your home or property.)
I had a blast creating a piece of art every morning; the excitement made me jump out of bed almost every day, even while traveling to California and staying at friends’ house in Austin. I am hooked and now the sky’s the limit!
Happy Birthday to meeeee, wheeeeee xx
And guess what, so are you! In fact, each one of us has been born with natural psychic abilities — it is our six sense and we all have one, even if it has been ignored. Much like the ability to sing or paint or play the piano, this skill can be developed with education and a dedication to nurture it, in a world that is not so keen on its development. And much like almost any other profession, there are folks looking to scam people and take advantage of the weakness of others. I have happily met some extraordinary exceptions and look to learn more from the studied professionals.
I’ve had quite an education in the psychic healing arts in the past year and a half. I never once considered myself psychic, although I was always interested in it because I was very curious about those that were psychic; what exactly did this mean? I saw stories and had no idea what that meant, so I went tripping around. As a kid, I was always being told to be quiet, don’t say that, keep your mouth shut….. and because I did not really know how to do that, I discovered ways and means to suppress these thoughts and feelings. So as I grew up, I treated it as a book that I would flip through every couple of years and then toss it aside. That is….. until my mom passed away.
I have met countless people whose lives have completely changed after the passing of their mother; I suppose the stories had always been around me, but I never heard these stories. I thought I had been prepared for my mom’s death, but even to this day, not quite two years later, her death still inspires me, still makes me cry, still makes me feel things I have never felt, but mostly, my mom has inspired me. I recently created a mission statement, and as CORNY as it is, it is oh-so-very-true for me: (yes, it sounds like a Beach Boys song lol)
“I want the rest of my life to be the best of my life and I want to share the good vibrations!”
I discovered I do have psychic abilities. That’s such a freaky word though, isn’t it? I rarely use the word because it’s FREAKY and people literally or metaphorically take a step back and put their hand up as if to say, “You will not see me.” I don’t blame them, I have done the same. Storefront psychics have given the profession a very bad name and in my studies, I learned that approximately 90% of psychics are scam artists. That’s a HUGE number of phoney-baloneys and no wonder this young woman got exactly what she set out to find; online psychic scammers. They are incredibly easy to find, so she allowed herself to be mostly scammed and willingly paid for it. Had she spent some time educating herself, she could have found a professional who could read the energy around her and with a combined effort on both their parts, she would have been left with suggestions on how to improve and/or change her current situation. It’s not hocus-pocus unless you want it to be abra-cadabra. We all have free will and no psychic has the final word on your life, nor should anyone allow a psychic to hold their future ransom for a dollar amount. This woman eventually meet someone who had energy-reading-abilities and guess what, IT FREAKED HER OUT.
I am a beginner and have immersed myself in learning all that I can about these talents of mine that I discovered late in the game; there is no clear path to educate one’s self in this manner, which is a challenge I fully embrace. I no longer even feel as though I have a choice, nor do I wonder if I have this ability; I do. Now my focus is to simply understand this thing that is in me and to that end, I am completely dedicated to educating myself and developing these skills because it is literally the things that makes me jump out of bed each morning. My hope is that everyone finds the thing that makes them to jump out of bed each morning because honestly, it’s the sweet spot for sure.
Everyone has a Sixth Sense, just as everyone can sing, but it’s a skill that must be developed and nurtured. Nothing about our American culture wants you to have these six sensory skills, let alone develop them, which is why turning off the TV and staying out of malls and bars would be a good place to start if you’re interested in develop these skills. Fortunately (!!!) I lost everything while my mom was dying and in my process of re-building, I find myself out in nature A LOT, which is the perfect place for me to develop and practice these intuitive skills. I have learned to meditate too — perhaps one of THE most challenging things to do in my life, because the world has always screamed at me and I always screamed back, that is until I discovered the gift of silence.
It is in the silence where I have learned my greatest lessons.
In the silence, I know stories. It feels as though I get tapped on my nose and then I see people and situations. Usually these situations are high-stress, traumatic situations, not always, but never a bunch of detailed information. In my study of developing these skills, I give much consideration to the ethics of this business, and have learned that it is best to never impose my thoughts or “advice” (eee-gads) on anyone, so often times, I do what I must to release this energy from me. This is where NIA dance comes in tremendously handy, and why I share my good energy tips on Instagram!
Being psychic, or rather, being in touch with one’s intuitive side (a much nicer way of saying it), is the ability to see or hear or read “energy in motion.” When I first heard this description, it made it much less spooky and less mysterious.
“The ability to read energy in motion.”
It’s a fascinating subject and there is so much to learn, so much to try, so much to see, so much to read, so much to feel! I have met some amazing people in this journey, as well; there have been some absolute nut jobs oh-yes-for-sure, some egos five times the size of Texas, but mostly I have met some of the most caring and dedicated people I have ever met in my life, and many dress suuuuuuuper-cool and have never seen an office cubicle. I LOVE IT!!
A good place to start if you’re interested in developing your own “intuitive skills” is Sonia Choquette’s “Diary of a Psychic“, and almost all of her other books. I have read most and have attended her workshops too, which are craaaaaaaaaazy-amazing!
In my late-twenties, I started on the path to discover these skills and learn more about them, but I eventually walked away, literally and metaphorically, because I wasn’t “getting it.” It was a long and interesting lesson, yet I was very, very frustrated because I learned all these things in my head, but nothing was happening outside of me. When my mom was dying and said the words, “I was wrong about you and I wish I had been nicer to you“, it truly melted a steel cage around my heart and I was able to see, feel, hear, taste, touch for the first time in my life. My mom gave me an amazing gift before she passed away, the gift of LOVE, and so it is because of her I am dedicated to being the best PSYCHIC I can possibly be! And truly the BEST part about it is that I don’t have to be a PSYCHIC because there are so many other tremendous things possible in life now!
Now please, will you wash behind your ears before I have to embarrass you in public?
Sometimes I burst out in tears when I think about my mom, and I’m occasionally surprised at how close I feel to the sadness, but I don’t question it, as grief is what it is. This usually happens when I am doing the dishes or sweeping the floor or some other mundane task, but not always; sometimes it happens when I am out in public and I find creative ways to work the tears into whatever it is I am doing. I get a pang in my heart and find the most comforting thing to do is to put my forearm over my eyes and let it all hang out, even if in silence. It is usually short-lived, but bellows from deep down.
Last night I threw a ribeye on the hot iron skillet and it hit me just as the sizzle splashed up; the sorrow of my mother’s death. The sorrow of her unlived life; dreams never seen, love never felt. It is not that I wish she were here, because we did not spend much time together and when we did it was strained — or something. I cry for her sadness and how our entire lives together were summarized in those few short days or minutes before she could not speak anymore. I cry for not having a daughter; who will hold my hand when I die? But still, my mom and I made our peace. She loved me. She was sorry. I was sorry. I loved her.
I often see it as my mother slipping into a black, fiery hole, on a board that is angled at a fairly steep 45-degree angle, leading into the black, murky hole. It is a big hole and I am kneeling on one knee on the edge, with my arm extended towards her, leaning farther in as I am physically begging her to grab my hand. There are angels standing along the edge of the hole, probably about ten of them — I just counted them for the first time in my mind, because I have not paid much attention to them. My mom is slipping feet first into this hole and she is looking back up at me, reaching towards me and trying to say something to me as if its the first time she is speaking to me and obviously, it is the last time. Always in this scene, I am reaching towards her with my right arm as I have my left forearm over my eyes, as I hang my head low in deep sorrow. She is leaving me for the final time. The sadness goes deep.
“Don’t be scared, Mom”, as she slips in deeper.
What do I know? Nothing. It’s hard to know what to say when someone is dying.
I miss her. I think she’s okay. What do I know?
When I am hit with this moving picture show in my mind, and once I compose myself, I think about how much my life has changed since my mom’s death. In many ways, maybe I too was sliding into a big black hole, because I certainly didn’t feel all that alive 18 months ago. I was trapped in my own fears, imprisoned by my own thoughts and completely out of touch with my heart. I had accepted that I was getting old and that there would be no more real moments of joy nor carefree silliness in life; only perhaps drunken silliness, and this is not really all that silly, except that it is pretty silly.
I clutched my heart a lot after my mom’s death; I thought I was having a heart attack. I couldn’t breathe and I was terrified. I reached for the walls when I walked in case I fell down. I was so afraid I was dying. Nooooooo, please not like this. I found a doctor, made an appointment. Then fell asleep for two weeks.
After I changed everything in my life, I actually started to have real fun again. My spirit came back after I left Chicago and moved to my mom’s empty place in Woodstock, where I began to pursue the things that mattered most to me. People fell out of my life, good ones and bad, as did a number of jobs — money too; oh the money went tumbling out. I started taking long walks around Lake Geneva, because I simply had to move about outside, as well as doing lots of yoga. I quit drinking and drank kale juice every morning and soon felt amazingly strong and ready for new adventures. I was breaking free of the shackles of my life, which in hindsight felt a lot like walking through a long dark hallway while being striped of every thread I wore. It was beautiful and terrifying time, and the fears of the future were loud, but my faith grew louder each day as I awoke to a new ability to see and feel…. energy. Twirling Figure 8’s are what I see, everywhere. They make me hopeful.
I am certain I will spend the rest of my life learning about energy, even though I hear those sarcastic Irish voices in my head that say, “you do WHAT Meag??! You see Figure 8’s???? Should you be driving? Are you in the paint again Meag???” I boot those needling leprechauns aside and forge ahead — they cannot stop me now because they are all dead and I am alive and roam the earth with my trusty energy balls.
I initially thought I would be an energy healer in my next career, but as I dig deeper, I am not so sure. To work with people’s energy is to associate with them on such an intimate level, which presents all sorts of ethical issues that I’m not interested in, quite frankly. I have always been a bit of a loner, so I looked to other ways of working it. Which is why I am super-glad I have jumped into the arena by returning to my first love, DANCING.
I am now a Nia Technique teacher, although for years I studied and taught Gabrielle Roth’s 5 Rhythm’s. I loved my time in the 5 Rhythms but my life fits so much better with Nia now. However, no one is coming to my classes just yet, but gosh it’s great practice! I suspect this dance may be a bit too progressive for Dripping Springs. Change is in the air here and people are moving here in droves, but the majority of people here are young, church-going families, who I suspect are not looking to take a dance class that combines the best of modern dance, martial arts and the healing arts. I keep my heart and my eyes open for new horizons, as usual, as I look outside of Texas.
What is Nia dance, you ask? When founders Debbie and Carlos Rosas created NIA in the early 80’s as an alternative to the high-impact aerobics craze, they called it “non-impact aerobics”. Over time they determined the acronym was negative, so research took them in a new direction. It was then renamed “Neuromuscular Integrated Action”, but how lame is that? About 15 years ago, a truth revealed itself: in Swahili, Nia means ‘purpose;’ in Hebrew, it means ‘to create subtle movements.’ Ah, the metaphysical truth.
In Nia, we use nine classic movement forms: three from the martial arts (t’ai chi, aikido, tae kwon do), three from the dance arts (jazz, modern, Duncan), and three from the healing arts (yoga, Alexander Technique, Feldenkrais). There are also 52 fundamental steps and patterns. When the custom choreographed music starts up, I move the moves by adding my own personality and style of dance, so that it becomes my dance — and I encourage you to discover your dance. This is why I really love Nia, it honors the skill level and development of the individual spirit with these age-old practices. There is no wrong way to do Nia, unless you are hurting yourself; you move in your body’s way. I learn something new each time I dance the dance and I anticipate future learning pangs.
I incorporate tools to improve my body’s energy during my class that I have learned over the past several months, and I also share them on Instagram, called #newenergyin15 . I’ve learned these tips from Lee Holden, Sonia Choquette, Lydia Wong, Donna Eden at Eden Energy Medicine ( I LOVE Donna’s energy!) and from my own inspiration, so it really is becoming my style and maybe someday I will have students!
When the tears for my mom appear, I let them hang out, because they keep me grateful and in tune with why I pursue the things I pursue. My mom’s dreams were cut short many years ago while she sat around waiting to die and then she fought like hell in the final hours. I’m attempting to mow down my regrets before they have a chance to fester; having sat with three people as they laid dying revealed some crushing views on life and I am thanking my stars above that I have an opportunity to turn my life around. Once again. 😀
My mission statement: “I want the rest of my life to be the best of my life.”
My quest to understand energy has only just begun, so do you care to dance with me?
“An energy healer is someone who can assist in moving your energy in an attempt for better mental, emotional and physical health.”
I’ve often asked myself what IS an energy healer and then mumble, “it’s not real”, even though I am surrounded by the study, practice and fascination of all things energy. Here is my laundry list of current energetic practices:
– Attuned in reiki — I now have hot hands!
– Student of Lee Holden‘s qi gong
– Student of Lydia Wong‘s Meridian Dance Massage (I LOVE her Mambo T’ai chi classes!)
– Student of Sonia Choquette‘s Six Sensory studies
– Student of Tarot and various other oracle cards
– Officially a NIA technique white belt dance teacher (!!)
– Each morning starts with one hour of sun salutation meditations that include the energy medicine practices of Donna Eden (and oooooh I can’t wait to take her classes!)
I also love to read about angels, intuition, psychics, faeries, meditation, mediums and have discovered one common thread in all these modalities… it’s all ENERGY. Fascinating, beating, twirling, moving, pulsating energy; I can feel it, I can change it — I have totally improved it, and I am enamored by it. Ironically, energy healing can freak some people out.
I totally get this, I have long had my doubts about energy so much so that I totally forgot about it for years and paid no attention to it whatsoever. I remember thinking it was a deceptive way of saying, “I make stuff up” or “I like to day dream and ride white unicorns over sparkly rainbows”. Even though I have always come back to the healing arts, I have been and remain somewhat skeptical about what it actually means. My Irish sarcasm runs deep to this day.
These days, however, I am more curious than anything and am ready to dive into this.
My mom’s deathbed apology totally changed everything for me, and once I emerged from the hellacious panic attack I was trapped in, I began to experience life in a very, different manner. Life suddenly seemed quiet and crisp. I felt as though I had no choice, I simply HAD to clean up my life on every level and even now, I pay dearly if I eat junk food or I feel the foggy after-effect of one glass of wine for three or more days, so I don’t drink. I feel people in a visceral way that is new to me. I hear their stories in my nose. When I am out in public these days, it is a very different experience. I am affected by sounds, lights, crowds, smells and cellphones (hello!). It’s why I prefer to be in the country now.
This is not religious experience, because I am not aligned with any one religion, although I do fall back on some of my Catholic tendencies. I believe most religions are dangerous and encourage punishing thinking, so I don’t go there. I am also quick to not describe this as a spiritual experience either, because once I label myself as spiritual, it raises an eyebrow, an eyebrow that loves to scrutinize our humanness.
I’m not into labels. I like energy. I am flawed and have bad days. I suffer rejection, but not as years gone by; I get over things pretty quickly. Including when I sometimes wonder if I am a delusional or perhaps the butt of jokes, but then I say, “who cares?”. I love where I’m finding myself these days, with its imperfections and all, and I feel totally grateful to have this opportunity to wake up. It’s what I have wanted for years.
I have also experienced some amazing insight on people in my immediate and not-so-immediate circles; I feel my nose get tapped and then I’m flooded with thoughts. It is energy in motion and I can read it somehow. I have been told I am an Energy Healer. I have been told I am an Intuitive. I continue to search for understanding.
Naturally the internet has a boatload to say about the subject, after I made my way through the ads for several local area energy healers, and if it is one thing, energy healing is vague. Rife with scam artists and bally-hoo-magical thinkers, so says Wikipedia. “Physicists and skeptics roundly criticize these explanations as pseudophysics — a branch of pseudoscience which explains magical thinking by using irrelevant jargon from modern physics to exploit scientific illiteracy and to impress the unsophisticated.”
Therein lies my challenge. I believe in energy healing and the positive changes it has made in my life, but I now am ready to dig deeper.
When I was 26, I took a job as a Production Manager at a photographic and design studio in San Francisco, which kicked off my journey into healing my inner kid, or rather, my search into “how not to be in so much damn emotional pain”. I was wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, thrilled to be in San Francisco and I was about two years sober at that time. This was the perfect city for me; I had amazing adventures on my bike (huge calves and thighs!), at my job in SOMA (it was called the Multimedia Gulch back then), and enjoying my first “healthy” relationship with a pastry chef/marathon runner, who had me running with him all over the Marin County trails. It was a tremendous place for me to be and I was “tippy-toed-excited” about all that lay ahead of me.
I first lived on Russian Hill and rode my bike to work over Nob Hill to SOMA, or I took the fantastically aromatic #30 bus through North Town and Chinatown. The bus was usually serene and roomy when I boarded in the Marina, but when we pulled onto Columbus, suddenly the bus turned to a sea of people with no personal boundaries, nor indoor voices, all carrying plastic bags full of duck stew. I was happy to ride my bike up and over the hills as often as possible, and honestly there was no feeling in the world like blasting down the streets of San Francisco, even though that required pedaling up those same streets. I was a biking machine and I loved it!
It didn’t take me long to take notice of Mill Valley across the Bay, and within a few months, I was living in a log cabin on Mount Tamalpais and riding my bike to the Sausalito ferry each morning to cross the Bay. It was a glorious way to start and finish each day and I don’t know that I was ever in better shape in my life. My super beefy legs may not have ever been considered sexy, but they sure were strong as oxen and for that I have always been grateful. Even today, my legs are oh-so-hardy.
It was in Mill Valley where I started to meet “energy healers”. Whhooo-whhoooo-what? I was curious but highly skeptical, as this sounded like a bunch of hooey. The first weekend at the log cabin, my roommate had a Shaman come to the house to do a sage clearing. A what? A long-haired gentleman, dressed in all white robes strutted around the house with rattles and a lit sage wand as he traced the windows, door frames and spun in all the corners of the house. It smelled like weed. I was fascinated and a bit scared. Was this an exorciscm? Was the house haunted? Will there be goblins and ghosts?
There were no goblins nor hauntings, and since this experience, I now practice space clearing and have learned so much about it from the powerful teachings of Denise Linn. I love this woman’s energy! I am also a fan of Tess Whitehurst‘s books on the subject of space clearing, as well. Once I started looking, the information was plentiful.
I love, love, LOVE working with energy, healing energy and learning even more about energy. It is my thing. This is one of the many gifts of my mom’s passing; and her apology to me before leaving. I finally eased up and off myself and my God, the difference it has made in my life. The message has not been lost on me at all.
But the message of energy healing was a hard one to grasp. Last year, when I was fired from yet another ill-fitting job, I found myself scrambling…. “WHAT AM I GOING TO DO NOW???!” as I stayed up all night reading about healing through reiki, angels, prayers, psychics, t’ai chi, yoga, kale, crystals, breathing, vibration, praying, chakras, qi gong, breathing, walking in nature, silence, Law of Attraction, spirituality, religion and let’s not forget the FAERIES!
“Oh my, Meagan is totally OUT THERE now.” I know, isn’t it fantastic?
The results of being at odds with myself my whole life has made for a very chaotic, albeit it, exciting life. I am ready for this new chapter as I dive into the energetic world.
Until I get my unicorn, I’ll fly without him for now… xo
This past week, I had the golden opportunity to attend a NIA White Belt training at a crystal farm located just outside of Little Rock, Arkansas. I chose this instead of driving to East Austin every day for 7 days, as this option included a free stay at the farm. I discovered NIA dance several years ago, well after I had trained years earlier in Gabrielle Roth’a dance, and felt its principles were speaking to me now as I prepared to deepen my practice. As of last Friday, I can now teach NIA and will be doing so at the end of September at two studios in Dripping Springs, Texas.
It’s an intense training; the days are long and obviously, very physical. I loved every sore-muscle minute of it! The farm was absolutely beautiful and I am completely grateful to have had this opportunity to learn and get certified in Little Rock. I especially enjoyed the early mornings with my roommates; I so rarely get the opportunity to have coffee and spirited conversations with such diverse characters, well before the sun’s day break. I feel a bit smarter and a dollop stronger for having completed this week on the farm. I’ve made some awesome new friends and hope to know hem for years to come.
It was a tremendous experience — including the few days I arrived early to explore Arkansas. Who knew this state was so gorgeous??! They call it the Natural State, I had no idea! Arkansas is an easy target for hillbilly jokes, and while of course I made many, I also learned an awful lot, and that’s a beautiful thing. Arkansas has quartz crystal mines, so there is quite an influx of people in search of said crystals; I even found myself in a mine and spent an afternoon digging. Amazing!! I explored the hot springs of Hot Springs, climbed a few mountains, greeted the rising sun from some breath-taking perches and spent an afternoon in the William J. Clinton Presidential Library; it moved me to tears more than once.
I’m thankfully out of hillbilly jokes because I have seen “the purdy” side of Arkansas. It was an amazing week and I’m excited to start teaching NIA!
A quick 9-hour drive home, a few loads of laundry and then Reed and I were off to Aspen, Colorado to stay with his Aunt Lucy and see the high country burst into the autumn season. Oh what a gorgeous country it is!
I think back to where my life was one year ago — it’s completely different today and thank God for this. I was working a corporate job (or two!) in Chicago and really thought that would be my path, but obviously I kept falling flat on my face. Losing so many jobs — okay being FIRED from so many jobs, having to sell all my belongings and then eventually moving out of Chicago, was extremely painful and has deeply changed me forever. The cake-froster was my mom’s death. Only one year ago I was crawling out of the mire and uncertain about where my life would go next. It was, in a word, terrifying.
Reed came back into my life last Thanksgiving when he invited me to Mexico for Thanksgiving. I never thought I would see him again after our divorce in 2008, but alas, never say never. I never felt right about how things ended between us; so I am grateful to have this opportunity to get right with him — but mostly to get right with myself, because I cannot help others until I help myself.
When we were married, I was restless and had absolutely no direction. I was adrift in my pointless life and unmotivated to change it. I had lost that sparkle in my eye, that spark that had enabled me to endure almost anything in my life. Reed had offered to let me do anything — yet I could not decide and chose to do nothing instead. Can you imagine? We did a lot of traveling and moved into many houses, yet I became increasingly annoyed by it all. “Unattractive” is the word I would use to describe myself. I was once an artist! Not anymore; I would pick up a paint brush and cast it aside, feeling literally nothing except a dull pressure to be something I was not anymore. I blamed the world and especially blamed Reed for my injustices.
Injustices. How outrageously arrogant of me.
I have never been more focused in my direction, nor more excited to live an adventurous and colorful life, than I am today. I have pangs of guilt for not currently having a job, but I’ll get over it. I am working toward an entirely different career experience and how lucky I am to have the opportunity to explore these new heights. I start teaching NIA later this month, but that is only the beginning. I am aiming high!
I believe we cross paths with people who are meant to teach us something, even if it is delivered through a painful, one-two-punch lesson. Upon arriving in Aspen, Aunt Lucy completely nailed me to the wall, ridiculing me, wagging a finger in my face, wanting to know why I am so happy and what is my secret because she DOESN’T UNDERSTAND. It was scary and unsettling — this is a very angry woman who is deep in her Stage 4 cancer battle and is duking it out with her demons. Lucy has everything and more than the “American Dream” would suggest, yet her heart is cold and empty. And scared. She does not like unicorn-chasing, skip-to-the-loo-tree-huggers like myself, yet she is surrounded by them and pursues them here in Aspen. She went above and beyond to hurt me and succeeded.
I was a wounded pup for a few hours but quickly recovered. The fruits of my emotional labor; I now pull myself out of the hole, rapidly, with very little drama.
I composed myself in all that is gorgeous and illuminous in Aspen, Colorado and it dawned on me that no matter who we are, we are all searching to get out of our pain and to know what love is all about. It can take a lifetime. Thank God we all have one.
(of behavior, performance, or appearance) in accordance with the highest standards of propriety; faultless.
During my NIA training, we were asked to be impeccable. Impeccable in our words and actions. Interesting! It has caused me to think before I speak and I am now acutely aware of my impeccability — even if I am anything but impeccable at times. I am responsible for my happiness and my involvement in life. I am not expecting a doctor to hand me a happy pill, nor do I feel that anyone owes me anything. My life has become impeccably easier to navigate since I lost everything last year and re-discovered my true self and a deep desire to be helpful. I have that spark in my eye once again.
My research continues, as it is not over… xoxo
One year ago, I awoke early and headed out for a dewey, crisp morning Northern Illinois walk, in an attempt to sort my thoughts about my current job, and what the heck I was going to do because I knew I had to get out. I hadn’t even been with the company three months, yet I knew I needed out.
I fretted. My thoughts were half on my walk and half worked up into a lather because who was I to think I could quit a job with nothing lined up behind it? What would I do? What was my purpose? What was my passion? Money!!!? Oh my GOD, what would I do for money?! My head spun ’round and ’round and ’round because I had ZERO answers to these questions, but I did have a feeling that it was the right thing to do. But how do I ….
It’s my Manager.
She fired me.
I read my blog from one year ago and while I feel I was a wee-harsh on my mom in that post, I do believe I had tripped onto “my calling” but was not able to see it as such. It actually has taken almost a year, but oh what a year it has been! I truly believe I have someone watching over me, because it has been such an amazing year, since I no longer have that job in my day-to-day reality.
The first few months I paced and paced and focused on the fact that I had been fired, AGAIN. It is never, ever fun getting fired, even though it happened often. It always feels like a punch in the gut. Then I arrived in Central Mexico for Thanksgiving and stayed until March. After that I moved to Central Texas with Reed, my ex-husband, and it is because of him and his spectacular generosity that I have been able to pursue the things that matter most to me. And what really stirs my pot is….
I have been studying under Sonia Choquette for about a year, although I first worked with her approximately 20 years ago in Chicago. I thought she was weird back then… but now I have become just as weird and I LOVE IT! It’s not weird at ALL, but I had my judgment back then even though I have always been drawn to the healing arts. I became jaded and cynical and included a bit of an eye roll when someone became “too spiritual” or in too deep. Surely there’s something fishy about someone who hunkers down and gets serious about metaphysical topics. Or perhaps I heard my mom’s raised eyebrows… “you’re dong WHAT?” “Meag, you need to get a job and keep your mouth zipped!” “Nothing is ever easy, nothing, we are stock people and life will always be hard.”
I continued these assaults on myself when no one else did.
Alas, for the first time in my life, this makes perfect sense to me. I have a plan and I am ON IT! I no longer hear my mom’s criticisms, but I do feel her smiling down upon me. No really, I do.
I leave tomorrow morning for Little Rock, Arkansas, to get certified in NIA Dance with my new friend Julie, and will start teaching dance classes in the fall (I studied and taught Gabrielle Roth years ago, so NIA make perfect sense for me at this point). I am training in T’ai Chi & Qui-Netics with my friend Lydia Wong and absolute LOVE the difference it has made to have this practice in my daily, early morning life. I was attuned in reiki with Dream Heart Services and Christine Lassota last year, but it has only been very recently that my Reiki Hands have kicked in and they are on fire! I am also studying energy medicine and the works of Donna Eden — I find this woman truly inspirational and frankly quite irresistible!
I’ve also started to share good energy tips on Instagram, called #newenergyin15; I am excited to tell a good energy story in 15 seconds! You can see the Figure 8’s here and the Slapping the Monkey here.
YOU CAN’T FIRE ME FROM THIS! Stay tuned….. and thank you Universe!
The more I read and attempt to understand near death experiences, the more I accept how profoundly I have been changed by my mom’s passing; and it was not a near death experience for me, but a near-to-three-deaths-experience. Those weeks spent with my mom have affected me in such a way that at times I have no words for it, so I sometimes chose to withdraw and fall into my study and fascination of “everything-as-energy”. I am inspired by everything I am learning; my perspective on life has evolved and I am super hungry to learn more. Even though it may appear as though I’m sitting there doing nothing, there is an enormous wave of activity going on in my head, and it is true I have never adored silence as much as I do now.
Ahhhhh sweet, golden silent silence I need you so I can read the world around me…
“The dots have been connected and there is no going back.” –Anita Moorjani in “Dying To Be Me.”
I just finished this book and I *love* her message and look forward to exploring more of it; specifically about how life comes down to self love. Not selfish love but self love — huge difference. But alas, this is much easier said than done for me; I have been reading self-help books my entire life and have strived to feel better about myself, i.e. change and improve myself so that I would feel good enough to be accepted by those around me and by the world in general eeeee-gads, much like the author. I’ve read wonderful books over the years, attended fabulous workshops, joined many, many groups, traveled near and far to look for that golden ticket, but at the end of the day, the week, the month, the year, nothing changed. I was still me. Still restless. Still discontent. I walked away from trying to improve myself, whatever, it didn’t work for me.
This has been a lifetime of mistakes and achievements and setbacks and adventure and only now, after my mom’s apology before her death, have I felt that steel cage melt away from around my heart and my life is forever elevated. Only now am I beginning to ease up on the harsh words and condemnation I’ve always had for myself. You could say perhaps I don’t care anymore, but I’ve never cared more in my life. My focus has changed tremendously over the past year, so I guess it only made sense that the Universe stripped me of everything in order to accommodate this radical change in perception. Well done Universe, well done.
Have you ever experienced a HUGE RELIEF? For me it’s when I eased off and stopped punishing myself for everything that would be impossible for me to be anyways. It’s when I gave myself permission to stop following all the self-imposed rules that have dictated my guilt-ridden life. It is a huuuuuuuuuuuge weight off my back and at times I have no idea who I am anymore. I’m okay with this. It’s not perfect by any means and I still have days when I get down on myself, but it’s a million miles away from what it used to be. If only my mom could have been free of this brutal punishment…. but that was not her life.
I also love the author’s message about food, as I have been afraid of eating unhealthy food for DECADES. Oh I’ve eaten it in the past, only to then punish myself in a variety of ways. Her fresh outlook on eating impressed me so much that this week I ate fried chicken from a chicken shack in Austin and I didn’t pass out! Oh it was gross for sure, but I enjoyed it with GUSTO. I had a coke too, YUM!
I am almost 50 years old. It takes what it takes…. and now I have my entire world ahead of me.
When I awake each morning and climb my way out of the morning’s dream, I get a mellow rush of excitement for the day ahead, no matter what lies ahead. I see things twirling around in my head, like magic 8’s dancing above me. I have a faery chandelier over my bed and I watch it twinkle for a few minutes as I leave my dream state and return to the State of Texas. I am pleased. I think of someone I love. I stretch and pet my dog and yawn and check my phone. I love waking up…
…then I head outside to do some energetic sun salutations in the driveway. Henry has begun to join me out there and I work with his energy and get it moving up & out. He appears to be full of vigor once again! He has been struggling ever since he returned from Mexico a few months ago and has had a multitude of vet appointments. He is looking happy again…
I sometimes forget I have been attuned in reiki. I sometimes forget I studied Gabrielle Roth’s dance for years and taught it in Mexico. I sometimes forget that I have psychic talents that love to be nurtured. I sometimes forget I was a graphic designer or that I love to write and that I can draw and paint fairly well. I sometimes forget that even though I spent years damaging my body with booze, smokes and poppin’ pills, my body is an amazing piece of wonder and it can heal itself. I sometimes forget I have power to change my life and live the life I’ve often dreamed of. I have started to remember that life can be wonderful and full of magic, even at this age when so many of us are overly-familiar with the dullness that can crush our waking days.
I read the news, I am not in some airy-faery cloud, but the best thing I can do for the world is to be the best Meagan I can be.
I have returned to dance and will be getting certified to teach NIA technique dance later this month. I am learning to read tarot cards because they help me make sense of practically every aspect of life and I love it! I have been reading oracle cards for a while now and they are becoming richer to me. I read Shakespeare and recently found this little book of gems. I love love letters. I have a little job that is good for now while I continue to pursue the many things I love in life and by doing this, I have a spring in my step when I bounce out of bed in the morning, even though I have so far to go. I’ve also had it about up to HERE with the State of TEXAS yet I am grateful beyond belief for all of the gifts and experiences it has provided me.
Oh To Be MeAgan… I loved reading this book and I really do love the journey, not just the destination… :)))
I had the best of intentions when I started this challenge; to share a part of myself every day for the month of June, and I do share a bit of myself each day on Instagram. However, I had to hit the brakes on my writing, because there was such a huge shift in my world, energetic and physical, I thought my head was going to explode. It did not and I continued to do a mountain on energy work and my inspiration have never been so charged to press ahead. I am consumed with it, this desire to push through my limits, to continue writing, to push the limits on almost every boundary in my life, all in an effort to do the things that ring true in my heart.
I’ve been afraid of being thought of as being weird by everyone “outside of my head”. No more. On this date of June 27, 2014, I no longer care if you think I’m weird, because I no longer think I’m weird, because my mom apologized to me for thinking I was weird before she died and I’m finally finally FINALLY starting to get it!
My mom’s deathbed apology was beyond a game changer for me — and I can’t stand that phrase “gamechanger” — but her confession yanked the earth out from under me, forced me to crawl on my hands and knees, shake my fist at hell and scream at the heavens; it striped me of all my earthly belongings; the things I so desperately thought I needed to look “normal” enough for this world… and I was not even happy in that world as it was all blowing up on me, but I had no clue what else to do. Much like the Titanic’s band, I hung on, singing my familiar songs of woes and going down with the ship. Gloriously defeated and striped of everything.
Except I was not striped of spirit. My spirit lifted me up off the depths of despair and dusted me off. What else would Spirit do?
When my mom was in her final hours, something happened in that room in the middle of a dreary Northern-Illinois-February-Day. There were sun rays on my mom’s face and I looked high and low to try to figure out where they were coming from, because the sun was no where in sight on this day, this week, nor this month. I sat down, looked at my mom, cocked my head to the side and gazed at her. She became a girl again. Her wrinkles evaporated, her puffiness slipped away. She was a young girl. And that young girl looked exactly like me. I sat there for a long time, looking at my mom, with her new young face and the sun rays twinkling on her cheeks. It was me, well, me before my reckless years and hopelessness.
There was hope in my mom’s face and her body was almost dead. But not her Spirit. Or was it my Spirit? It doesn’t matter.
My whole life I have been fascinated by spirits, by the afterlife, by seeing stories in my head that I was not sure of… and I kept all of this to myself most of my life because… well because my mom thought I was weird. She told me she was afraid of me and that I lived too loud for her. I asked too many questions. I was weird.
I used to struggle at the thought of people thinking I was weird, and that makes for a life lived on the fringes. But I honestly don’t care anymore if you think I’m weird. I’ve lost everything in the world yet here I live on this gorgeous little slice of a ranch in the middle of Texas, surrounded by all sorts of animals that talk to me on a daily basis, all thanks to a very generous ex-husband, who only has the best intentions for me and wants to see me happy.
I have everything I need plus a stack of books and a mountain of inspiration to learn more, because I’m finally embracing the fact that I am not weird, that I have a very strong intuition and I can help others with my intuition — I proved it to myself this past week and have been crying tears of gratitude all week. My whole life, I’ve been fascinated by this subject and never believed the reason I was drawn to it was because I have it too. I no longer doubt.
My first step was to acknowledge this. And now for the good part!
Stay tuned, xoxo
I recently took an online photography class with Creative Live and learned some wonderful mobile tricks and tricks on my Sony-NEC5. I had not expected there being a mobile photography nod, well, well because “real” photographers do not like to bother with the mobile phones, but c’mon, we all know that our smartphones have the capacity to shoot some great images.
These are my tree panoramas shot with my iPhone 5; there are some truly amazing trees in Texas and now I want to get a reference books for them, in addition to the wildflower book. First up, Blanco Proper, then a lavender farm just outside of Blanco.
Last night there were all sorts of wicked, wild storms in the area; super-high winds, plenty of tornados and downed trees to usher in this month’s Strawberry Full Moon, that was in full glory this morning of Friday the 13th. I’m a few hours late for my Public Learning Challenge, but I think we’ll all survive — because we all survived!
Here’s more info on today’s full moon, which is a Strawberry Moon in Sagittarius.
One of my favorite Facebook pages is The Crafty Kitchen Witch, because it’s all about growing herbs, paying attention to Moon Cycles, invoking the power of stones and minerals, ETC., but what it is NOT ABOUT is love spells and scary-hocus-pocus trickery. I like the nature-wisdom aspect of it all.
Some photos from the day at the ranch:
I seem to be stumbling upon more and more stories about deathbed regrets. I have been doing a load of writing these days, both sharing publicly and privately; I write as soon as I wake up, freehand, a la The Artist’s Way morning pages, just to dump the garbage out of my head to start the day.
So I was prompted, what would be my deathbed regrets? Free form, just letting it flow, no edits, just a few typos:
I would regret not loving more, that I kept to myself for most of my 40’s because I didn’t think I was good enough for the company of anyone. I was ashamed of myself because I struggled with smoking cigarettes and feeling absolutely horrible about that but was unable to stop. I felt bad for wrecking my marriage to Reed which was another reason I hid out — I didn’t think I was lovable anymore. That has all changed since I’ve made peace with Reed and my mom apologized to me; I, for the first time in my life, felt I had to stop doing bad and harmful things — like smoking, which when I was ready to quit a month after my mom died, I smoked my last butt on the morning of March 11, 2013 and celebrated that freedom without looking back ——— that is until I arrived in Mexico for Thanksgiving. I totally love being a non-smoker and I see now that my years of struggles with that awful trap were a way for me to continue to hide. My thinking was, “no one loves me, so who cares if I smoke?” And so I would smoke and say, “well no one is going to love me because I smoke so who cares, I’ll keep smoking.” It was a vicious cycle and it tormented me for years because I knew that was not who I was deep down and that I had been smothering myself, my true self for a very long time in order to just maintain – but that was hardly maintaining, that was being totally dishonest to who I was deep down and I was a broken girl for many years because of it, or so I thought.
I always knew my mom was not crazy about me. She much preferred my brothers and I knew it and I guess in hindsight it hurt my feelings that she thought I was weird and different and mostly she just tolerated me. But I was definitely the weird one, and that’s how I lived my life, as an outcast, never really understanding that it had anything to do with my mom. I know I had daddy issues — what girl doesn’t, and worked through most of them, but I never made a connection to not feeling loved by my mom. And I’m not blaming her — I know that she was not favored much as a young girl herself — my grandmom preferred the boys over my my mom as well; she was just passing the buck. And unfortunately or now perhaps fortunately, I have always felt too much, always wondered too deep, always searched so high for my answers in life — which drove my mom crazy — and my entire life I have been asking, “what is wrong with me?” and now I know that there was nothing wrong with me, I just didn’t feel loved; I was hungry, and now at this age and intersection of my life, I can do something about this before it is too late and then perhaps I won’t have deathbed regrets of not having loved enough.
My mom said, “y’know, I was wrong about you… I wish I had gotten to know you… I am sorry I was not nicer to you….” and these words were the magic potion that melted the steel cage around around my heart and now I cannot deny loving myself for the first time in my life. At this age of 48, I have connected the dots and understand that there has been nothing wrong with me, and now I choose love.
My mom’s words haunt me on a daily basis and I can live with this because it is a constant reminder that I want to be really good to myself and rise above. I was a sarcastic, angst-ridden woman my whole life, I leaned on pills, booze and smokes; not all of the years, but many of them, in between long stretches of sobriety, yet I would rush back to these vices when the going got tough and they would take my pain away for the moment, for the night, for the moment. I did years of therapy, 12-step groups, alternative therapies, and just flat out abstinence from everything, inducing food one year, and then I would still end up feeling like shit because I picked shitty men, men who didn’t care about me and ignored me and rejected me. I lived life as a healthy person on the outside, because that’s totally who I wanted to be yet on the inside I was grasping for straws and crying and felt lost and unloved and empty and I never understood why and I would work to make money so I could ask yet another professional, “WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME??” and I never got a satisfying answer.
It’s been a wicked ride, without a doubt, because through all of this, I was always up for an adventure and I traveled far and wide to search for these answers or to just escape myself. I think my Spirit kept me alive and searching, knowing that someday I would find that answer — so my Spirit or my Angels or my God or something decided to let me live even though I attempted suicide twice in my young life. My calls for help ran deep.
And who fucking knew that it would be my mothers’ deathbed apology that would sky-rocket me into arriving at the answer to my life-long question and discovering that THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME, IT’S ALL ABOUT LOVE.
Love, love, love, I honestly never in a million years realized the answer would be so simple. And when I awoke from the funeral, from the nightmare of losing yet another job, from the freedom of quitting smoking, I looked at myself in the mirror and said,
“well there you are, hi.”
I no longer harm myself with shitty harmful things and people who do not care about me. I intend to live the remainder of life in loud, colorful and vibrant way. Surrounded by love xoxo.
Thank you Mom.
This past May, I stumbled into a super-funky, super-vintage and totally cool furniture haunt in Bee Cave called Revival and fell in love with the place as soon as I walked in.
The first reason is that they have a pot-bellied pig named Hamlet, who roams the property and always seems to be chuckling at you or with you, I haven’t decided and honestly don’t care. He’s cute and he knows it. He even has his own air stream trailer with his name on it when he’s had it with the paparazzi.
I liked this place as soon as I walked in; it’s got a easy-peasy down-to-earth vibe, the artwork is local and cool, and the furniture and decor pieces are really unique and one-of-a-kind. I’ve had a lovely conversation with every person that I’ve met here.
I attended their first Succulent Class with Shari, their Texas Master Gardener and had a fabulous time with her and appreciate all the things she shared with me. Plus, whoo-wew that’s a fancy title I do declare!
You know how every once in a while, you meet someone you can honestly share a few of the private little corners of your life with, and that person shares a little bit of their private little corners with you and suddenly you become bonded to that person in a special way and it doesn’t even matter if you ever see that person ever again?
Yeah, that happened and it was cool. Shari has spectacular energy and I swear there’s a halo hovering over her too.
I bumped into Shari at Whole Foods a few weeks later and when she saw me, she jumped up and down and said, “Oh, Oh, Oh, I have something to show you!!!!” as she threw things out of her purse onto the counter at customer service. What could she possibly have to show me?
She whipped out her iPhone and showed me her lock screen… it was me and my succulent planter! I LOL’d all over Whole Foods because it was a goofy photo, but how cool was it that she made it her lock screen?
I asked Shari how she became a Master Gardener and she told me all about the program through Texas A&M and Travis County and wouldn’t you know it that by the end of that day I was signed up for the program and awaiting further instructions.
Well today was my first interview for the Master Gardener Training class, and it was pretty darn cool! Admission to the program is only offered once a year and out of everyone that applies, only 30 are chosen. I am currently filling out the application and will submit before the June 30th deadline.
I’m also working at Revival now! xoxo
If there is one thing about living in Central Texas that raises the hair on the back of my neck, it’s the amount of creatures and critters I must learn how to do the two-step with, because they rule the land. I am far less frightened of them at this age in my life, but that does not mean they are not showing up in my path, no Siree Bub, this land is their land, this land is their land. this land was made for them and them.
Scorpions are hideous creatures and seem to appear in places you’d never expect; in the sink when doing dishes, on the inside of the bathrobe that I’m about to put on, inside the ovenmitt, discovered a moment too late after rushing to get the hot burning bread out of the oven. After I met my first scorpion while doing the dishes a few weeks ago, I literally launched off into The Scorpion Dance and bounced my ways backwards through the house in order to distance myself from it. I had the creepy-crawlies all damn day. But you can’t let them stop you. Keep on keeping on.
I am torn whether or not to post the pictures of all the creatures I come across. That means I have to look at the photos again, and I always take photos. I can’t seem to stop myself, it’s a gross fascination with that which I abhor. That said, here they are, a few of my buddies:
I attempt to make peace with them, in order for them not to rule my life and appear everywhere and this tactic seems to work — somewhat, but c’mon this is Texas. Mostly you must be smart about it and proactive; I always shake my shoes out, spray my bed with peppermint and lavendar each night before going to bed, and now I carry homeopathic pellets with me, so that I don’t have to carry an epi-pen. For the dreaded Red Imported Fire Ant.
In 2007, I was bit three times on my big toe by a fire ant or three fire ants, I am not sure because it happened so quickly and then they were gone. My toe blew up and I had to get to the Emergency Room to have my toe lanced off. Followed by two days of being a zombie while the pain meds did their magic — it was AWFUL.
I suffered five fire ant bites on both feet last week, and again my feet blew up and I was in searing, burning pain, just as their name suggests. I didn’t see a doctor until I came up for air and the pain subsided. I was told my allergic reaction to these bites would get worse and now I need to carry an epi-pen. Ugh, an epi-pen! That’s what Uma Thurman got to the heart in Pulp Fiction!!
This did not set well with me so I made an appointment with a Naturopath doctor and have since been taking homeopathic pellets made for stings and bites, called APIS.
I got bit by another fire ant on Saturday night. It swelled up for an hour or so and then chilled the hell out. I will continue to take the pellets as opposed to an epi-pen, because that’s just how I roll.
I also went to Allen’s Boots in South Austin to get some epic short cowboy boots, because my feet get hot but I need to cover them ankles!
Aways be prepared for what Texas is gonna throw at you, and never, ever jump without looking. xoxo
Last November, I attended a brilliant Sonia Choquette workshop in Chicago, along with an amazing group of my now-new-peers, peers whom share a desire to live an extraordinarily rich and vibrant life. At the end of this three-day workshop, I declared that I want to be a Modern Farmer. These words felt as if they came rushing out of nowhere, and I’m still not clear I know exactly what being a modern farmer means for me; but my path has definately veered this direction since making the declaration.
Pay no mind to the fact that I was living in my deceased mother’s empty condo in Woodstock, Illinois and was once again “without employment”, which is jargon for “unemployed”.
All things told, I knew swift changes were headed my way.
A week later I was in San Miguel de Allende for Thanksgiving with Reed Burns, my crazy cowboy of an ex-husband. We found our way back to each other, something that surprised us both because we had both said in the past that we were DONE. We have become family again and more important, are friends this time too.
A few months later, here I am in Driftwood, Texas, living in Reed’s 1940s farmhouse on a few acres of land, across the road from Reed, as he lives on the main ranch. I’ve got my dog, a new job (more on than later, when I’m sure I still have a job HAHA), and up until this morning, I had 28 cows living in my front yard.
I wouldn’t quite describe this as being a “modern farmer”, but it certainly is a million miles closer to being one than I was last November.
These are Red Angus cows, and are most commonly raised for beef production in the US. Reed’s family ranch is named Charro Ranch, and the cows of Charro have almost 300 acres to graze upon before they go to market twice a year. These are, without a doubt, very HAPPY COWS. They roam, they graze, they reproduce, they raise their young, they yell at each other, they do it all over again.
We moved the cows to this property, across the street from Charro Ranch, in order for them to maintenance the land and keep it safe from grass fires. Exactly four weeks later, there is no more grass for them to eat and this morning they went home.
I adored having the cows here; there were back at the house just about every other day because they work the land in a circular motion, and it took two days to move around the fourteen acres. When they were close by, there were two gals in particular that would hop the fence and dine in the front yard. At first I would escort Helen and Syliva back across the fence line, but then I began to enjoy having them in the yard. Soon their babies joined them and I loved having coffee with the girls and their kids, every other morning in the yard.
They have personalities; some bigger than others, and I enjoyed getting to know them. There is a solid calm about cows that I really admire, they emit a calming affect. Reed thinks I’m crazy for this, but I know what I feel. My dad used to reminisce about how heartbroken he was as a teenager after he sold his favorite cow, Daisy, so he could buy his first car. His eyes would well up with tears every time he told that story and we would laugh at him for getting all emotional over a cow. “Don’t have a cow over a cow Dad, ha-ha-HA!”
I always liked that story and now I get it.
Maybe a modern farmer has cows that cut her lawn and then they go home; I’m not sure.
I am still sorting this out and I love the daily exercise of this life because although I have very few certainties, I am certain that I have never been more awake than I am these days. It’s a whole-lotta-Texas to take in, and sometimes I need a breather from all this country thunder, but *yahoo* I’m living in the Wild, Wild West and am totally grateful for this opportunity.
Next up: chickens in the yard :))
I believe in the afterlife and I believe I we are visited by those whom have passed before us. I take comfort in knowing that I receive visitors; not often, not every day, but I know it when it happens. And yesterday’s visit made me laugh and cry and I’m *still* laughing.
Tom McGovern was a very crabby man and was proud of the fact that he didn’t like people. Tom was my uncle, twin to my other uncle, Tim McGovern. Tim was quite possibly the happiest McGovern out there, and that’s saying something, because the McGoverns loved to be the antagonists, the pot-stirrers, the rabble-rousers, the I’ll-speak-my-mind-and-probably-never-apologize-later type of people. I grew up around some wicked-biting sarcasm, and admit I have enjoyed many of the tongue lashings I have been witness to over the years.
The Twins fit together, like peas and carrots; Nice Twin, Evil Twin and together they balanced each other out.
They were 12 years older than me, so when I appeared on the farm back in the day, they were right there and were like brothers to me. Tim was my favorite and I adored him from the moment I met him. We were great friends our entire lives until he left this earth in 2010, struck down by cancer and a terrible fear of doctor visits.
My heart; officially broken.
Tom did not like being in this world without Tim, I don’t think he had a peaceful day after Tim’s funeral. His heart was not only broken; it was now half missing. He became even angrier and although we attempted to remain civil towards each other, eventually we stopped talking. Even as I received news that Tom was not well, I said nothing to him. He was mean and hurt my feelings boo-freakin’-hoo.
In January of 2013, my brother Sean called to say Tom was in Cook Country Hospital and that it didn’t look good. Then a call from my mom, “Don’t go see him Meagan, he doesn’t want to see you.” I lived blocks away from Cook County Hospital and I said to my mom, “If he wants to go to his grave hanging on to some stupid outrageous resentment, that’s his choice — that seems to be everyone’s choice in this family, but it’s NOT how I live and I am GOING to go see him!!” Even my Aunt Nancy called to say not to visit, that he was still mad at me. I said nothing, then hung up. I went to Cook County Hospital to see my Uncle Tom.
We had a lively talk; he talked about who he wanted to say goodbye to and what he will miss. We laughed about eating hot dogs and skittles. He asked me to bring him an Italian sub from Bari on Grand, I agreed. He talked of the Board of Trade and how he missed Tim. He told me to go see my mother. I hugged him through the masks and tubes. We both had tears in our eyes.
“Do you know what’s going on here, Tom?” “Yeah of course, Mommie Dearest is standing in the doorway, waving at me.” “Anyone else standing there?” “No.” “Are you okay with this?” “Yes.”
Tom died three days later. Refused his last rites, take THAT Catholics.
So yesterday I was in Zumba class and it was packed to the gills with the ladies from Dripping Springs. The energy was high and the music was pumping and everyone was in a great mood. You could feel it! I really do love starting my day with this class, it’s a kick to the heart and there are so many women in this class who are enjoying the hell out of it — I am one of those gals.
About ten minutes into class, I said to myself, “oh my there’s a lot of young nursing mothers in this class, obviously!!” The amount of jiggling, bouncy, brightly covered boobs were more remarkable this day than on any other day, and the hips were in full gyration as well! I glanced at the instructor Anna, and in a flash, her smiling face became my Uncle Tom’s face. I quickly looked away and said to myself, “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT, TOM?????!?!?!”
I couldn’t look at her yet, my eyes darted around the room; I continued to zumba away and I fired out the questions…. “Tom hates health clubs, why would he show up here? Plus Tom hates me, what is he doing here?” Then I looked up and around at the women in the room and saw again that the room was full of voluptuous, dancing breasts, bouncing from one side of the room to the other and it made me smile. I was ready to look at Anna and sure enough, there was Tom’s smiling face looking at me, looking around the room, laughing, laughing, LAUGHING! He was beaming!
I started laughing too, and then tears streamed down my face. I didn’t stop dancing, I kept zumbaing, as I looked at all the wonderful bouncing boobs and I was hysterical in my head! I laughed all the way home and was so very happy to see my Uncle Tom, and to see his Irish eyes were a’smiling, xoxo.