Holding on isn’t always the best option, for those of you struggling to let go, here are six ways to do so. I use to journal regularly, one of my resolutions is to start again. I found it extremely helpful, it’s also a good way to avoid gossiping, venting to the wrong people and emotional outbursts. How do you let go? What was the last thing you released? Via: CrystalsWithin
Healing takes time, crying over something you thought was out of your system is totally fine. When I started my meditation journey I found myself crying deeply while in a trance state over things I didn’t even remember, or believed I’d gotten over. All worth it, you genuinely feel trauma lifting out of your energetic body, being released from your chakras; it’s an amazing, cathartic experience. Rinse yourself clean as many times as you need. What’s something you cried over, believing you were over it? Artist: Maybell Eequay
Until a continuous series of events, especially heightened during my twenty fifth year, reincarnation wasn’t something I had faith in. Watching an episode of The Nate Berkus Show featuring a past life regressionist educated me. All my life I’ve had a series of memories as a showgirl, a dancer who performed in front of massive audiences. I knew they weren’t dreams, scenes were far too detailed and interconnected. Repetitive. Walking through the backstage dressing room, being announced at my first show, the outfits, my apartment, overdosing on my birthday donning a red evening gown paired with matching elbow length gloves. Fade to black.
Berkus was told in a former life he was an aboriginal Australian. Elements of past lives always bleed into this one the regressionist stated. Berkus confirms this announcing he loves Australia and plays the didgiredoo (their indigenous instrument). Eureka! A plethora of red dress I’d purchased for significant occasions litter my wardrobe! Becoming my staple color at Miss Lily’s; on busy weekends the servers were expected to up the ante outfit wise to empty pockets. I always sizzled in a red number of some sort. Additionally people also always, always, always ask me if I’m a dancer, due to my build.
Digging deeper into reincarnation I learned that we are souls having a human experience, a lot of people we come across are one’s we’ve met in prior lives. Depending on the soul contract (the terms of your relationship, the reason you’re in each other’s life) there could be unfinished business. For it to be rectified you must do what was not done. For example if you were lovers who couldn’t be together in a previous life you’ve come back for your happily ever after. Sometimes it’s the opposite and you’re to move on. Based on the nature of our relationship, along with other variables, I’ve determined my old boss went to war and I waited for him to return. He never did, but I wait all the same. I found myself doing that in this life as well, to complete the contract I had to move on.
The point of it all being if you feel stuck in a life pattern that won’t yield, no matter how hard you try, look to the soul. Something is repeating and looping for you to repair it by doing what you could not in a past life. Soul contracts will drive you crazy until you complete them. Is there a relationship that seems stuck? Are there areas in your life that are blocked no matter what you do? Figure out- for me through my abilities and the clarity of meditation- what your soul is trying to tell you, then apply it. Only then can you elevate and open up to abundance. Photo: Hello Dongwon
“You’re that conspiracy theorist that nobody believes, but you’re always right.”-Rakim
Demons, ghosts, the soul within your flesh chamber, you name it I see it, or have seen it.
As I grow older all these ancient proverbs ring truer than true. The eyes really are the windows to the soul. At first it started off as clairsentience, the ability to feel clearly. Energies, other peoples emotions, beguiling objects; walking down the street I could look at the 15th floor of a building and know it was haunted. That whatever resided in there was looking down at me, sensing my acknowledgment. Male, female, century, attire, all things I could pick up. I’d never seen anything when I was younger, with the exception of my grandmother’s house at nine.
Red numbers beamed from the small radio alarm clock, alerting me that it was precisely 2:38am. How bizarre, I never wake up from deep sleeps, was my first thought. The air was stiff and eerie, all the lights out, creating different hues of darkness, the only way objects stood out in the landscape. Separating our room from the living room, where my grandmother slept on her pull out couch, leaving the bedroom to us, were these wooden venetian doors. They were kept open so the industrial fan could rotate air between us. There it was. At first I thought I was seeing things. But this figure was shorter than the fan and it’s eyes beamed red like the clock. He was wearing a hat, with a shirt the shape of a Hawaiian button down, it had shorts on and a grin that was somehow contained and exceeded the oval shape of his face. But it was the arms. Longer than it’s body, the arms curled up behind him swinging back and forth, never touching the floor. This being was not human. Scared to death I nudge my sister Whitney and cousin Breon silently awake, was the apparition real? None of us said a word, but we all saw it, we stared at it as it stared at us grinning insidiously. We were entranced for a good ten minutes. Afraid it would come closer, we wrapped the blankets over our heads, leaving only space for our noses to peek out. I found out that this demon was called the Short Man, often accompanied by the Tall Man. Shadow people. Years later my sister described them both, as she saw the Tall man too that night.
Twenty five was a turning point, my abilities magnified and I couldn’t control them. I started to see things, I mean really, really see them. I was terrified living in a haunted apartment in west Harlem, 3am on the dot and the whole place would come alive. I found myself unable to move with an animal growling in my ear, I’ve waken up with three doctor like figures looking down at me as if they were operating, I’ve heard my name called down the hallway. One day I told my roommates and they’d experienced some of the same things too. However no one saw anything like me. This is why I went to the psychic to know what I was. My estranged father is Haitian and openly practices voodoo. These capabilities are in my blood. The psychic taught me how to meditate, creating a barrier between myself and unwanted entities.
It bogles my mind, the humans myopic minded enough to believe we’re the only beings inhabiting this universe. Animals can pick up ranges of sensory information unbeknownst to us, a dog whistles frequency exceeds our scope. A born seer, I never had a choice, this gift to see souls, to pass spirits along to the other side (which I’ve done for friends and those who come to me), premonitions…it was passed down to me. So when I warn others about someone’s true intentions, or a nefarious being I only need say it once. I have a proven record. Heed my advice, or learn the hard way, either way it comes to pass. Photo: Elle Gramm
These methods really work. Write down five things you’re grateful for, meditate for at least 5 minutes a day and yoga works too.