But you know, [...]]]> I couldn’t figure out why I kept getting spam comments on my post Mastur-bait. I can’t count how many times I had to go into my wordpress admin to delete another freakin’ spam comment. If only they were real. Readers where are you? “Numbers don’t lie”, I say while I laugh out loud.

But you know, the above, that is how spirit communicates with us. It won’t stop, until you get it. I knew there was some significance to getting spam over and over on the same post, but I couldn’t connect the dots just yet. Until now. Holy cow; maybe my eyes have been so itchy since December because my eyes needed the biggest adjustment on this ascension journey. (time: 12:12 pm) Right now, my eyes are all itchy in and around. Must be a major adjustment happening on the eyes. I wonder what’s to happen?!

***

Mastur-bait. If you read the post, you’ll notice it turns into Master-bait. And that’s where the biggest correction is going to take place. I wonder whether my eyes will stop to itch after this. Will the spam stop too?

This mister can’t be my twin-flame. It’s absolutely hilarious to me, that since I’ve completely let go of wanting to find my twin-flame, it seems to want to find me. It keeps coming back to me in my writing. I’m just playing a long. Are we creating together? Are you now full-on communicating with me telepathically? Are my words, your words? Are we One?

***

Wayshower. What are wayshowers? It’s a person who shows you the way, on your way. Was this town, merely a stop, on my way to a different spot? Where does my journey bring me? Did this person simply come into my life, to re-mind me, I had to let go of an old story? So I could continue on my journey and be free so I would not copy-paste my past onto my future? Is that why I was brought in the middle of two towns: Squamish. (word count: 333) The middle between Vancouver and Whistler?

The middle. (time: 12:21) So I am in the middle. And isn’t it all about balance? And is this the second town I live in while in Canada? Since it all seems to be about the third attempt. No, this is my third town. I started out in the Okanagan. Moved to Vancouver and now I live in Squamish. But wait a minute:”What about the afterbirth?”

Does that mean this town is not my final stop? Does it mean this town is simply the town I came to grow-up, be-come a big Apple so I could pop-up somewhere else? Does it mean this man was my wayshower and we were never meant to be because I was still needy? And once you come full-circle, you lose interest, just like me and my ex. Gosh, if this is all true, it was all perfectly staged!! And, the best of it; I’ve played a wonderful game! (time: 12:30)

But if something is perfect, where is the imperfection to balance it out? And once you come full-circle, you lose interest, over what you used to obsess. It transforms to what it is. What is, is Love….. Can I now take my glasses off?

I believe I can. Frankly; I don’t care whether my twin-flame is communicating with me telepathically. I’m indifferent to it. I guess this was the trick my mind was playing on me. It was my re-view. I passed it. You know why? I’m not needy. I’ve got nothing to loose, because I got it all: me!!

“Ok.” I replied [...]]]> Horse riding. The Olympics. Creating. Directing. Painting. A picture. “How do you feel now that the Olympics are over?” A very dear friend of mine from NY e-mailed me. She knew it held great significance for me being in a town in the middle of the two towns who hosted the 2010 Olympics.

“Ok.” I replied and I continued:”Since I’ve come full circle with it, I’ve lost interest.” I guess that is what happens once you see things for what they are, you can easily let it go. It returns to love. Everything that is, is love. The Olympics just are. No longer do I attach to that story. With that; I’ve come full circle.

After the Olympics are always the Paralympics. Like an after-birth. Or aftershocks after an earthquake. They are no less important, but it seems like they are less intense, less noticed. But as with everything; there is sacred geometry in this. And without yin there is no yang. Without all, there would never be nothing. Without alpha no omega. One can not exist without the other. Like perfection can not exist without imperfection.

***

Did I go for Gold during the Olympics? I don’t know. The medal ceremony hasn’t happened for me yet. Brings me to something which for years, I forgot. Was I ten? I remember I was horse-riding. I loved it. Especially when I first got my own horse. But she was never really my own. She stayed with me at my parent’s farm. I took care of the horse and rode it. But the real owners didn’t want to sell her because she was special. And she was. She was very special to me. She took care of me more than I took care of her. Her name was Arabella. A beautiful black welsh-Arabian, with very long manes.

One late afternoon me and my childhood friend Brenda and I are sitting on our horses on top of two manufactured hills. That’s where we came up with the idea. Every year we’d have this big horse-riding tournament with Germans. It was the thing to look forward to. It would last a weekend and the families involved would all host a German horse-riding competitor just as the Germans would do when we, the Dutchies, would come to Germany to compete. On top of that hill; we created something very special, something magical. We’d create a kur on music. We’d create a dressage-program on music, while riding our horses dressed as angels. And we’d perform it during the tournament. I don’t know what got into us, how old were we? Ten? But we did it. And it was a great succes. We got a spectacular ovation. I felt so happy, so relaxed. And it felt so natural, so easy to do. I can’t believe I forgot about this succes.

Success. Success is when you love what you do and do what you love. I’m there. I’m successful. I love what I do and I do what I love. And I’m doing it ‘n sync with my own horse. And it happens when I am.

***

I can’t help but wonder;”What’s with the Paralympics? And why are my eyes so damn itchy?!”

More signs. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. It’s the little things which tell me I’m on my way. On my way to what? I don’t know. I trust it will be good. No, better than that. Heaven!

I turn on the music to write. To catapult me right into that right vibe. [...]]]>

More signs. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. It’s the little things which tell me I’m on my way. On my way to what? I don’t know. I trust it will be good. No, better than that. Heaven!

I turn on the music to write. To catapult me right into that right vibe. When I started to write, I listened to music a lot, always have. It increased. Then something happened. I started to like silence more and more. For months I wrote without hardly any music. Since yesterday it’s coming back. The music. Record speed. And it’s beyond rad. Music and me? We are one. (time: 9;44)

***

Then there is the other thing. I used to be a neat freak. Had to have it orderly around me. My head’s a mess. Thoughts go from left to right, up and down, criss cross. There is no order. It seems. But it’s like the Universe. Perfectly imperfect systemized. When I listen to music and I write; it comes out. This perfectly imperfect mess. And I trust, like I do in life; that one day, this perfectly imperfect mess; comes together like a perfect whole. Something you can’t see when in the middle of creating it, but you trust you’re on your way.

***

I am seven. Or was I younger when I started doing it? I’d get up really early. I’d mostly do it on Sunday mornings. At least my parents would sleep in and they wouldn’t catch me doing it. And I would be able to stay in bed just a little bit longer. Even though sleeping in has never been my thing.

But what was my thing? As a kid I’d get up really early to clean the house. I’d do it for my parents. I saw they were always tired. Working hard too. Never any time for anything. The least of it to see us five kids as individuals. We were the bunch. The kids. Not Apple, Korine, Henk-Jan, Stefan or Bart. We were a whole bunch. All crazy hyper with their own unique signature. But it went unnoticed. Would they notice and appreciate me after cleaning the house?

I wanted my parents to notice me. I wanted my brothers to notice me. I wanted my sister to notice me. But nobody really saw me. And that’s when I started doing it. Conforming. Fitting in. Compromising. Doing stuff for others except for me. Forgetting about me. And it started with me cleaning the whole house on Sunday mornings. It worked for a while. But then they took it for granted and started to expect it from me. And I’d try even harder. But it didn’t work. I got frustrated. Felt misunderstood.

***

It’s the little things. The house I live in? A single dad with two kids. The kids live with him every other week. Two boys. The dad works full-time. He works hard. I see the house could use a little more cleaning, dusting and all that stuff. At first I was just really too exhausted to do anything. I could hardly get out of bed. Then slowly my energy came back. But I knew: cleaning up after them, even though I live here for free, would be cleaning out of guilt. Thinking I have to do something to be here for free. And I let it be.

Yesterday I noticed the living room could use a little sweeping and tidying too. I thought about cleaning it but then I thought: It’s not my mess.

Today? If I feel like it, I will help out. (draft saved: 10:00:00)If it comes from my heart, I’ll do whatever I feel like doing. Heartbased giving doesn’t expect anything in return. Nothing. No-thing. Not recognition. Not even a Thank You. Heartbased giving just is; it happens instantly, automatically, unconditionally without thinking. The beauty about it is: heartbased giving pays itself forward. Automatically, naturally but most of all: unconditionally!

It pays itself back too. This morning? I got some proof. I gave my heart to you, unconditionally, automatically and naturally. A glimpse of hope came my way. And I didn’t expect anything, it overwhelmed me, it touched me deeply. When I write, my heart pours out to you. 

***

I come ‘home’ from Starbucks. I feel [...]]]> I wake-up, enormously e-motional with a very sore back and kidneys too. I turn on my left side and remember the dream I just had. I look at the clock: 23:23. “Wow”, I thought it would be at least 5 am but I’ve only slept for two hours or so.”

***

I come ‘home’ from Starbucks. I feel alone. I don’t know what to do with myself. Upstairs my ‘landlord’ and his kids are watching a tv-show online. I can’t be alone right now, I have to be with people. I am downstairs in the cellar and take out my baby-book my mom sent to me over a year ago after I asked for it repeatedly. I open the book and feel this enormous urge and desire to look at a picture of my baby twin-brothers. My eyes are getting teary, almost.. But I can’t cry. I hardly ever cry. And I don’t know how to cry in front of people. Whomever it is. I’m so used to doing it all alone. I wouldn’t know what it’s like to be cared for. I think it would leave me very vulnerable.

I walk upstairs to my ‘landlord’ and his kids. I just want to share. I just want to share my life! “Look, can I show you a picture of my adorable twin-brothers when they were babies?” I say to them while they are still watching the tv-show and I show them my baby-book. He hits pause. “Look at their cute big eyes, isn’t it the sweetest thing?” “They used to call me jinda, they couldn’t pronounce the L properly.” “Me and my sister taught them how to ride their bikes, it was very funny!” I continue to tell my ‘landlord’. But I don’t know if he can tell how very lonely I feel. How very sad I am. And how exhaustion is getting the best of me. And that I just wanted to share a little bit of my life to make me feel less lonely.

I walk back downstairs. Into my cellar. V. skypes me. “How are you?” She asks. “Sad.” I reply. “How come?” she wants to know. “I don’t know. I’m just experiencing it. Very tired babe. Haven’t slept in 48 hours.” I let her know. I don’t have the energy to be upbeat. But I can’t tell her how low I really feel, how I’ve lost all faith that it’s ever gonna get better. I can’t. I feel like she relies on me. I feel like I’m her beacon of light on this journey. She’s in it too. Ascending. But at least she’s got her own place. A job as a pilot and friends to go to. I have no one. I feel all alone. But I don’t want to disappoint her. I don’t want to tell her I no longer believe that things are ever gonna get better. When can I stop being the strong one? When can I be the one that can put her head on someone’s chest and just be? God, I’m so tired.

***

I’m all alone on this big island. It’s called ascension. There is one other person there. It’s my long-lost friend from Holland. Her name is P. I can’t see her, but I can feel her. Until I see glimpses of her. The next shot I’m close to horse stables. I’m leaning against a big pole. It’s all dark, pretty scary. There is this looming feeling that there’s something bad about to happen. I’m blind-folded. I manage to remove it partly so I can see at least a little bit. Next to me, on my right is what seems to be a very complicated mathematical equation. I don’t know what it means and how to unlock the key but I don’t need to. One good look at it and I remember. I fully understand the equation. It makes me very happy. On the island is but one car, it’s white.

In the next shot I’m in a car with my mom and dad, they picked me up from my ’ascension holiday’. My parents seem to be back together. I’m in the back seat while my mom and dad turn around to speak to me. My dad says:”I can see that it was very hard for you, I understand you only had yourself to turn to and that must have been very hard and lonely.” I choke. Tears are coming to the surface, but they get stuck in my throat. “I can’t believe for my dad to say that to me, that is huge!” I think. ”It’s like he is saying: I’m sorry, to me.” I want to cry, but somehow I can’t. That’s when I wake-up from this dream. And I wan’t to cry, but I can’t. And I wonder why.

And I wonder why all I can think of is Andy.

***

I’m so tired. I haven’t slept in the past 48 hours. I’ve only been creating. I wonder why. It doesn’t seem to stop. It’s 12 am. I’m gonna try and get some sleep.

Music. I love music. Can’t and don’t want to live without it. It lifts my spirits when I’m down, it makes me want to move to the right tunes. On and off I feel a strong urge to make music myself. But I have no clue how to. And my first experiences with making music weren’t [...]]]>  

Music. I love music. Can’t and don’t want to live without it. It lifts my spirits when I’m down, it makes me want to move to the right tunes. On and off I feel a strong urge to make music myself. But I have no clue how to. And my first experiences with making music weren’t all that rad. It involved a clarinet. And a teacher who liked putting my clarinet in his mouth. It grossed me out so bad, I eventually quit playing the damn thing. Had never really been my heart’s choice anyway. My mom played the clarinet when she was young and thought it would be nice for me to do the same. ‘ Course I obeyed. Even though I told her the sax appealed more to me. Or the guitar, or the piano.

***

Early on on this journey I met a DJ, somewhere in March of ’09. He’s from the UK. He plays internationally and has been doing so for years on end. One day I recieved a tweet. The DJ told me he liked what I had said. He was feeling down and apparently what I had tweeted touched him and that was how the story of me and the DJ began. To make that story short but sweet; he planned to come over to Vancouver, for me, he would DJ here, as it is his way of making a living and we could get to know each other. Something happened. Our contact kinda bled to death. He tried to contact me a few times after that but (time: 1:11) it didn’t feel right for me to respond.

Last January I recieved a short message from the DJ. “I’ll be coming to Vancouver in January.” I didn’t respond. Didn’t feel right. Don’t ask me why.(Last draft saved: 1:12:34) Even though my blog might make you believe otherwise: I don’t over-analyse. Exhausting. If you let things be, clarity arises naturally. And so the DJ might well be in Vancouver as we speak. I don’t know. Do I need to? (word count: 330) I believe if you follow your heart things will happen naturally.

My heart carries my authentic bleu-print and it leaves a trace where-ever I go or am about to show. I follow by feeling, feeling what feels right and good to me. Is different for everyone, ‘course. That’s why you have to listen to yourself. I do not have the same inner blue-print as you. And if we do: we are twin-flames. One; a union. But separated at birth. Eons ago?

***

So no DJ for me. Will I DJ or will the DJ in me find me? The same way the writing came to me, miraculously…Btw, oscillating at record speed now. Going in and out of connecting with the love-grid at such speed; it almost changes from minute to minute at the moment. Making for lots of dizzy spells, heart palpitations and bodily fatigue but not mentally and emotionally.

Something funny happend last eve. I [...]]]> This full moon ‘s got a firm grip on me. Its light is keeping me awake. First I wrote depression and now another obsession is wanting to be born. I’m a Crystal-chick and my method is to naturally give into this shizz. Works for me: gives me a natural high.

Something funny happend last eve. I went outside to have a quick peek at the moon, walk back inside and not even a minute later; my period breaks through. Yeah, I’m telling you: the moon and me, we’re spot on!

***

You know, I have this thing about Angelina Jolie. I don’t know what it is. I mean, her and Brad Pitt and all these kids. Just don’t know. But something feels off. And now that I’m writing about it; I can’t help but think about the post I last wrote. And how there was a tiny movement during the thirties depression which really blossomed while the majority of the planet suffered. That seems off, doesn’t it? Nah. Everything is always about balance. That is what Sacred Geometry is. Like three and seven. Those numbers might look like they are totally out of whack, but in fact, it is pure sacred geometry. Doesn’t get any better than that.

Looking at Angelina Jolie and her kids I can’t help but wonder:”What needs to be balanced out there, Angelina’s karma?” Until we are clear from all our percieved fear and past beliefs, we continue to create karma. We pass it on to our kids without knowing it. Then there came Indigo and Crystal kids. They came into this world to transmute. I mean, think about it: a kid comes into this world pure, without a trace of fear. Maybe some past-life stuff they themselves have to sort out, but mostly; our kids are being energetically infused with our parents beliefs. Mind you; we choose our parents and they choose us. There is nothing random in our universe, it is all pure math. But I’m not good at that, maybe that’s why I was such a mess growing up. I couldn’t put two and two together. Not until I threw my heart in the mix: figured out I was an Indigo who desperately wanted to go on a Crystal flight.

***

I’m undecided whether I’d like to be a parent. This writing feels like a baby to me. Needs a lot of nurturing and caring. Got my hands full with it. In fact, my hands are tied, when I write. (time: 5:44) Maybe when my baby is all grown up, the desire for a baby might pop. But I don’t think so. First I’d like to play a little with the one I’ve worked on for so long. My baby has also been working on me, it’s always a more-than-one-way thing, this multi-dimensional reality.

Mind you; once physical babies do pop through me; I’m pretty sure I’ll be lucky enough to have rainbow babies. Hey, I’m an Indigo turned Crystal chick! I don’t want to be taking this shit all my life. So I’d better have a baby who smiles a lot! One that isn’t like me, picky! That’s what Crystals are; we are very selective about who we let in, who we really trust. At this moment there is only one person I really believe, despite my open mind and heart: me. And it speaks to me loudly! (time: 5:55 am)

***

Back to Angie, Brad and the kids. Ofcourse nothing is off. It just feels like that to me, it feels like balance is lost. But who am I? Merely a Crystal chick. And I know everything is always perfectly imperfect. Plus in times of despair, like me growing up; my indigo-light did its best to highlight that which was in need of light in my life. I just didn’t listen to it. Now I do. My heart is very well tuned into to you, my baby. Listening to my heart made me go from Indigo to Crystal. I like this shit so much better. I’m pretty sure the moment I’m totally and pure Crystal and very well balanced out and out of this oscillating process; my picky-ness will no longer play tricks on me. Now, I am care-free.   

These words? My baby!