June 7th

Grief, a subjective concept that is so frequently defined by the cultural norms and expectations we each are exposed to as we grow. Grief was always a strangely elusive idea for me. I first experienced it when the Aunt, whom I was named after, passed away when I was about the age of 10. Attending her funeral would have given my little child self some solace, but my mother insisted against it. As I recall my experience, my particular flavor of grief was particularly difficult because I hadn’t seen her for what seemed like a long time, as well as our shared name, Janay`,  had established some strange bond between the two of us. There was a kinship in the joy she’d bring to the family, and I wanted so badly to grow into such a state. I couldn’t tell you the process of grief for me at that age, because I frankly cannot recall it, but I do remember that it took me a long time to sort through. I journaled a lot, and I remember examining my experience. A silent child was a good child in our home. Any loud noises would bring the wrath of our mother down upon our little bodies and minds. But this life experience, the death of my husband and the closest soul to me ever, is very different.

              Patrick Thomas Mallon, Gagoghs, was and remains the closest spirit to me. He serves as a teacher and guide in his current iteration. He wouldn’t have identified as such, but he did fill those roles for me. A teacher to me means something drastically different than many in western culture might depict one to be. The role he served for me was one of holding space and allowing me to discover the truth of the universe for myself. He’d ask inquisitive questions seeking to examine the source of someone’s suffering. Questions were always the quickest way to understanding how our loved ones think, and how we might be able to support. We both would deep dive into our respective ills. It was a true partnership and continues even beyond his passing. The death of a loved one is not a loss. Perhaps my awareness of the transition of forms has caused a unique perspective in my experience of this “grief?” I’m not even so sure I would call this grief. My experience of this transmutation of his soul into a different dimension or state of being feels unique in a lot of ways.

              As a young girl, I had a deep intimate experience with the paranormal. Seeing apparitions, hearing ghostly activities, feeling the presence of entities, poltergeist type activities, and more. I felt it was something I had to become proficient in, because these types of activities and experiences plagued my spirit parallel to that of my traumas. Understanding ways to navigate the paranormal and how I’m able to gain access to spirits more than normal people around me was important, so I investigated books of mediums and the paranormal, watched Paranormal entertainment, and my curiosity really took me into deep places, sometimes extremely spiritually dangerous places. I may write about this experience more in the future, but I simply want to give a basic exposition to develop context for this post death experience of my cherished loved one.

              Death is an elusive concept for humans. There are a variety of beliefs into what it means, but for the time being let’s stick to the facts. Our understanding of death is that a person’s body has ceased to function on a cellular level. This is our understanding of death from the Newtonian approach. Mortality has always been a topic of fascination for me because of my background with the paranormal and my own personal relationship with Suicide. Patrick’s relationship with mortality stemmed from his own suicidal ideations throughout his life and need to escape from his hellish experience. He also experienced guides and entities from different dimensions, however they manifested for him in unique ways that I’ve never heard before. I did not doubt those experiences for a second, especially after I had heard several other accounts from others encountering certain entities that corroborated his descriptions. We’ve spoken a lot over the years about this topic and our understanding of the paranormal or multidimensional beings we’ve encountered. We’ve examined this idea extensively together and independently.

              Now, perhaps this extensive examination is why my experience of grief is not much like that of those who do not do this kind of introspective work, but there’s more to it, I’m sure. We had been preparing for his death for some time. Really since day one of our relationship. He admitted very certainly that he was going to commit suicide and that would be how he would exit this plane of existence. His transparency and gentle but fierce personality really intrigued me tremendously, and our uncannily similar life experiences solidified our connection. We developed our relationship over a very long courtship. Namely because he sought to keep me at a distance for this very definitive decision, he had made for himself. There weren’t any signs of immediate plans for suicide, despite his frequency in discussing it and what it meant to him. His relationship with the idea evolved over time. It was quite a fascinating evolution as he and I both grew.

              Initially he was severely depressed as was I, but over time and evolution, both our depressions faded and gave way to joy and exuberance for life. His discussions of it faded more into hope, “I may live 10 plus years, I don’t know. I could get hit by a bus tomorrow, we never know what life’s going to throw our way, but as long as we are present with one another, I’m going to live this beautiful life with you.” Or similar sentiments would be expressed in the later years of his life with me. He’d sometimes complain of feeling unwell and those expressions increased in frequency over time but eventually stopped. He’d realized that his refusal to seek medical intervention at the insistence of myself and his brother, John, made the complaints irrelevant to how he chose to live his life. Maintaining a full presence with those he spent his time with, was of the utmost importance, and bringing attention to his symptomatic experiences served little purpose in his mind, thus he simply masked his symptoms. Partially this was done to protect those he loved, but also to reframe where he chose to give his attention. If he drew focus to his ailments, it developed a barrier to experience the joy and bliss of full presence with those he loved.

              This discovery allowed for a period of joyous love. We had so much fun together throughout our relationship, but this discovery really seemed to enhance both of our abilities to be fully present with one another whenever possible, with a few exceptions of periods of deep independent introspection. We knew he was ill, but simply did not know of any diagnosis. Towards the end he’d considered seeking medical documentation of his illness due to the turmoil between he and the owners of the land where he built the Triangle house, but those plans shifted frequently as his condition evolved and the circumstances of the tenancy fluctuated. He simply wanted to paint and love. That was it. And he did that. I, over time, could see his suffering of symptoms, but also knew his feelings on the matter. It pained me to see him suffering silently, and frustrated me at his refusal to seek proper intervention strategies, but I respected his decision. After all, he was entirely in control of his own faculties. I’d speak with John occasionally, suspecting he had a form of cancer, or a brain tumor, or some other unknown disease or biproduct of his Hashimoto’s condition. I suspected he’d been diagnosed before I even came into the picture and that he knew all along. He refused to acknowledge one way or another these lines of inquiry.

              When he finally passed, it was after he’d exhausted his body as much as possible to the point of wasting away. His body had been eating itself in the last few months of his life. The last 2 weeks being the most drastic decline in his ability to function. His fascia had degraded so much that no amount of my massaging his muscles would help with the severe inflammation of his old scar tissues. There simply wasn’t anything left to massage and bring relief. I still did not have any indication he’d take his own life, but it makes perfect sense given that his last day, he wasn’t so sure he’d be able to get back up the next day. He’s never been one to engage with western medicine or end of life practices. They fundamentally clashed with his beliefs. That being said, we’d laid down for a late afternoon/early evening nap, and when I awoke he was no longer home and his truck was missing. He’d thrown his body over the Rio Grande gorge bridge, much like one would dispose of a no longer functioning appliance beyond repair.

              The shock of that is not something I could have expected, despite the length of time and preparation for him to pass in his sleep any day. We prepared as much as we could. It was important to him that I was well taken care of. He spoke often of his concern for me, and wanted to be sure I was well supported following his death. Regardless of how he would pass, it was going to strike my soul in a profound manner and he sought to ease that as much as he could. My physical body going from every waking moment in one another’s presence to the sudden and profound physical vacancy that his absence issued, was a very great shock. Immediately I could feel that he was no longer in his body because I could feel his spirit with me and still as I type this, he is with me. My physical body has been experiencing the shock of what humans describe as grief. Allow me to explain.

              This is no dissociation. I’ve grown all too familiar with the sensation of dissociation from my past traumas and my deep examination to free myself of them, so I’ve grown quite clear and careful in my discernment here. My physical body was sent into a shock, however my spirit knows that he did not cease to exist; not only that, but that he is now far closer to me than he ever was, so how can this be defined as a loss? This is no loss. This is entirely a transmutation. His ethereal being is experiencing a different iteration of life. Knowing the truth of that, I’ve been able to observe my physical body’s experience as distinctly different from that of my spiritual state. It is also very clear that my physical body’s experience is an extension of my spirit. This new iteration of his spirit is one that does not require a physical form to persist. My physical body seems to have great difficulty with that idea. Because I can feel his presence, my physical body is expecting to see him exit the bathroom or open the door to his studio and descend the step ladder with a joke or strange expression of affection towards me. This is the experience that I posit we define as one of the different stages of grief being, denial. The denial aspect is simply the physical body experiencing the shock of this drastic and sudden shift of form. As I type these words, my spirit seems to be hovering above my body, but not from dissociation. This is simply my spirit recognizing the need for discernment of the physical body’s experience vs. that of the spirit. My spirit is being drawn from my body as if the gravitational pull of his spirit is settling into an orbital path with my own. 

              I’ve been finding it difficult to complete tasks at times because of this. However, my will to complete the job that I’m here for is driving my body into action far beyond that which most would expect from a grieving widow. Seeing the strength of his own will to animate his body through such disease ravaging his physical form, is fueling my own motivation into acting. I’m not entirely sure if my constant acting to complete tasks is coming from me, or from him because of this transition into spiritual support. My elderly friend who has also experienced widowhood has expressed a convergence of souls at times. I would say that is an accurate description. There are moments where he seeks to converge with me and those are difficult moments to navigate. Perhaps my physical body is rejecting it in some ways, but I’m not entirely sure quite yet. I’m still exploring what this all means.

              The experience of anger and bargaining that is supposed to come with grief, is something that doesn’t seem to quite resonate with me through this experience. I posite that such “stages” of grief are symptoms of an individual experiencing this process while also experiencing deep unaddressed feelings and fears around mortality itself, or around deeply rooted core beliefs from trauma and conditioning etc. I’ve also been experiencing abandonment issue triggers being activated for me, but I’m doing well to navigate through them as best I can. It’s difficult at times because frankly I am doing all this administrative stuff on my own with very little physical support. Now, I do have some mental support from a variety of friends, and one of them, the most consistent of them, is an old college friend who is showing up in ways I never expected him to. I am feeling extreme gratitude and bliss of love from the cosmos for those that are able to show up and support in the ways they can. I’ve chosen to focus on that rather than feed the old parasitic trigger any negative banter that would thwart and make this experience that much more sufferable.

This is not a time to indulge in the addictive power of self-imposed suffering, this is a time to celebrate the time we had in our human forms together. He is beyond joyful to be free from the cage that his body represented. In my expression of great appreciation for the gift of reflection he and I provided one another I am able to recognize my ability see the truth of existence itself; that existence is love! What a great gift to receive! The work we did has allowed me to step into my own power in this life. My first quest was to find him, and that I did. The next chapter is expansive and unknown, though a couple of things seem certain. 1) I must be a vessel to present this body of work to the world. 2) I must write about what I’ve learned and create stories to be of service to others here. 3) I must work with the soil and act in ways that reflect the change I wish to see in the world. Soil is essential, and I need to participate in being of service to revitalize it however I can. Being of service is my ultimate role here. I’ve done enough work to free myself to the point my spirit is actively trying to leave my physical body. I do not feel caged by my body, but only that my body is an extension of dense mass tethering my soul to this realm. My will to fulfill my purpose is helping to keep me grounded enough to complete tasks. That is something worth celebrating as well! To have clear direction in life without the details being planned is really all I’ve ever wanted. Now it’s simply a matter of executing action and allow what is meant for me will to come into being. We’ll see how it works out.

For now, I’ve been jettisoned into action from this event. I must vacate the Triangle house he built and that has housed me and him. The property owners did not believe that Patrick was ill and chose to retaliate due to he and I having to step away from their Airbnb business. It was not pretty, but now the best thing for me is to vacate the property as per the agreement they originally had and take my terms of service on the road. This requires varnishing the rest of his paintings in the desert where there are an abundance of teeny bugs that can thwart the process as well as lots of dust and wind. Then package them all and move them into secure climate-controlled storage. I also have a great number of other logistical things to navigate before I can take this show on the road. I thought I’d be able to do podcasts about this experience, but considering I’m to be a writer, why not record this process and journey through the form of a blog?

              I find myself more in a constant state of gratitude for everything; For the beautiful exchange of love and sharing of one another’s lives. Even in death, he’s chosen to stick around until I die. He’s added himself to my team of spiritual guides, and that shift from lover to spiritual guide is a difficult one to integrate. Perhaps this is one that may take more time to make sense from when I have the dedicated time to sort through it all. But for now, I have things to get done. So now is a time of experiencing, and the capacity to examine this all more deeply must come another time. I’m examining quite a lot, even while I’ve been completing all that I have. This initial period of transitioning lifestyles completely is entirely overwhelming if I look at the whole of it, but if I break it down into doable tasks and simply act day by day, I get closer and closer to the next place. I feel there must be a way for me to exist in this constant state of meditation/liminal space between states of being while also being capable of functioning as a human. I believe that’s something that Patrick was able to experience, himself, but I’m not sure if this is a sustainable state for this plane of existence, yet. I shall maintain practice, and perhaps for now I need to find some other healthy way of grounding myself here.

P.S. I do hope that you, dear readers, keep up with my blog. I plan to upload regular blogs to record this journey. When I complete this chapter in the Triangle, I will be open and ready to act, receive, and explore the gifts of abundance that await. The initial leg will be a simple vacation, where I hope to start integrating and having the time to really examine all of this. Take independent vision quests and commune with God/Spirit, Gaia, my guides, and Patrick to see where this takes me. I’ll also inform you, readers of any upcoming projects being released as much as I can. paragraph. Click here to add your own text and edit me. It is easy. Just click Edit Text or double click me to add your own content and make changes to the font. I am a great place for you to tell a story and let your users know a little more about you.

To the Top

June 9th

As I waited patiently for the rest of the large party to arrive at the Farmhouse Café in Taos, NM, I cradled a vanilla latte that had a lovely plant design in the frothy goodness that so satisfyingly sat above the rim of the mug. The barista, who’s name starts with a G, consistently imbues love into his latte art. The staff here are always in a love space because the products and services they provide come from a sustainable and renewable source, or maybe that’s just my perception because of how well Patrick and I have always treated them. That is the kind of love I wish to inject into my being through consumption, when I do choose to dine out. I choose to welcome in that love, and not the residual energies of hangry morning tourists lost in their own festering fears. That residual energy is cast away the moment I touch the utensils and cups that are gifted to me. What power is this, that we may activate within ourselves once we’ve cast out our own past residual baggage from the similar familiar faces who reared us?

              Today was different; Gagoghs and I frequented this café when he would wake early enough to grace the southwestern casually painted chairs in a romantically rustic setting. Today I wore his fedora adorned with the feather of an owl found upon one of his walkabouts and a couple of artsy button pins. My heart racing, and my body responding with, “GOOD GOD GET ME OUT OF HERE AS FAST AS YOU CAN!” Instead of about-facing, which is my standard response in such pre-panic attack states, I took a deep breath and telempathically communicated with the deceased Gagoghs, “I can do this, and I will do this. This will be a momentous experience for us all.”

              “You are correct, my love. Remember your grounding techniques if you need them.” I see a painting, I see a mug, I see a child’s face collapse into the shoulder of his mother’s… WHO IS WAVING AT ME?! Oh this must be Mary! She walks in and we embrace. Two perfect strangers only connected by the sharing in great life experiences of the same man, his eldest sister. And behind her, is Amanda, Mary’s daughter. They are strong energetic women showing up in a power that melts my panic away. I embrace Amanda, and invite them to sit while I retrieve the little brass keepsake urn as requested by another of the sisters. This morning, I would meet 4 out of his 5 sisters in person for the very first time.

              The rest followed up shortly thereafter, and they all chose his favorite drink, the Mayan Warrior. Loriann, Kat, and Lizzy. They all held such similar mannerisms, and surprisingly resembled him more than I expected. His 5^th sister joined us via video call. We all exchanged pleasantries, and I passed his urn around the table for each of them to hold. For many of his sisters, they hadn’t seen him in over a decade. This of course was a consequence of growing up having developed Complex PTSD in a hell home such as theirs. The sisters had bonded together over their shared traumas, but his mainly came from the other parent, and had caused a social rift in the sibling bonding process as they grew older. But rather than hold a space of personal resentment for that divide, I chose to sit in the awe of their truly awesome healing familial structure; It was profoundly moving.  For one who’s experienced a very similar family trauma to their own, this was deeply healing to bear witness within. The intimacy with which I shared with their brother was respected greatly by a horde of extremely strong and resilient women in their 40’s and 50’s. This is a great gift that I cherish and is a very significant green flag that I pray maintains its standing.

              These lovely beings followed me home and I gave them all space to be in the house and gave each of them their own private session with his studio, mainly because of the insect transfer potential from the ground floor to the secondary floor; His work was still drying and I couldn’t risk having moths Kamikazi-ing into his paintings. We had to limit the length of time the door could remain open. As they each had their own intimate connection, I simply held space and answered questions or shared stories or descriptions of some of the paranormal experiences I’d been having with this life transition, and they were so very grateful. Afterwards, they needed to leave very suddenly due to an overwhelm of stimuli which triggered episodes for a couple of them. They took their gifts and the box filled with his ashes and left. I will not share more than that here out of respect for their privacy, but I spent the rest of my afternoon/evening scrolling.

              Music could not support me in this space of being, it had been irritating for me, I’d tried other outlets or white noise experiences and that did not work. At this point, my POTS symptom of not being able to regulate my own body temperature kicked into high gear, and my lack of awareness of how long this symptom had been presenting up till this point alarmed me greatly. I pulled out an ice pack and cooled my body any way I could while scrolling. Each Instagram post in my feed was a message of love from Gagoghs. Every. Single. One. It was the most nourishing social media experience I’ve ever had in my life. I reflected a lot as well, realizing the Grand nature of this relationship, which has continued beyond death. He’s taken his role in this new state very seriously and will see this through to the end. His guilt for not being able to be Romantic with me as I would have preferred in life seems to keep him tethered here in this role, though I may simply be projecting. I’m ok with this for now. I’m also ok with the fact that if someday he chooses to melt into the ether, he’s certainly welcome to. He’s communicated a great rejection of such a prospect with me in life.  

              This relationship was a great exchange. I feel I’ve gotten the better end of the bargain, but he feels similarly, because he’s able to love more completely without the distractions and limitations of being human. That’s a win/win situation for him. The profundity of this cosmic exchange is far greater than I’m even capable of recognizing now. What a truly awesome gift! I’m able to acknowledge my own value and have opened myself up to receive. I’m able to receive guilt free for the first time! Such experiences were never expected from my past selves, but in this present self, I love myself so cosmically and completely, I’ve been able to heal from extreme trauma, and open myself up to wholesome cosmic love in a way that I never could have imagined. This abundance is flowing FINALLY! Everything I’d worked so hard my entire life is FINALLY paying off! I AM LOVE!

              THANK YOU! I love you, dear readers. There’s more to delve into, but I must rest. Good Afternoon, Good Evening, and Good Night.

June 20th

I vacated my old storage Unit in Taos, today. The responsibilities and task list are reducing, and things are moving forward. I also picked up the death Certificates. Rain is coming in for the next few days keeping me stationary at the Triangle. This also gives me a moment to breathe and reset. The sheriff’s department still have not communicated with me since the day I delivered his Dental records on weds. May 22^nd. It has almost been a full month since I have heard anything from the police despite my repeated visits to the office, requests for follow up, phone calls, emails, etc. In the meantime, I’ve had his body released to a funeral home for cremation, picked up his ashes, replaced my car, moved out of my Taos Storage unit, varnished paintings, photographed paintings for reproduction, packaged paintings, and begun moving into the new climate-controlled unit.

              The property owners have also reneged on their original verbal agreement to give me until October 31^st to vacate and moved the date for me to vacate to July 31^st. This does not give me any time whatsoever to plan any sort of Memorial that I was hoping to host. Not for me, but for those who seem to be having a very difficult time processing. It felt correct for me to host something like that. Patrick never wanted a funeral service but left it up to me to host a memorial if it felt appropriate, so long as I didn’t spend an arm and a leg to put one on. If you look at the Kitchen, a single kitchen drawer is all you need to know how minimalistic he was. Heck, he chose to cut out a whole 4^th wall of his house to save on construction materials for the Triangle. Perhaps this circumstantial evolution is for the best. It pushes me into a state of enhanced action, which will only help kick-start me on this new life path. I release that which no longer resonates with my growth to allow for that which is intended to support this new version of myself.

              My relationship with John’s family has taken a turn, hopefully briefly. John lost his mother exactly a week following Patrick’s death. Other relationships are in sudden flux as well. This has been an interesting time, to say the least. I had not been preparing myself for the sudden drastic shifts in relationship dynamics, so that seems to have disoriented me. Suicide, regardless of the reason for it, triggers people in unique ways. This seems to have created an atmosphere from which distortions of judgments upon me are projected which creates barriers within the existing dynamic. Luckily the work to free myself from caring about how others perceive me have limited the impact of these very many social climate shifts. Despite these developments, and evolutions, I must act in ways that resonate with who I’m evolving into. I also must be very careful to be gentle with myself. These are all very drastic shifts and life events that have uprooted my entire life, and what I thought was supposed to be my purpose.

              Our lives take such twists and turns to the point of barely recognizable outcomes. No amount of planning and organizing ones life can account for the unexpected gifts that find us along the way. Some gifts are blessings in disguise, others are blatant declarations of love that attract you like a moth to a flame. The point is, I’m learning to finally let go of the planning, organizing and control over my life, and what I felt I’d wanted. Letting go allows for the ability to receive that which is truly meant for you. The, “I’m going to be a music teacher, so I can help inspire thousands of children and influence my community,” belief has evolved with unexpected twists and turns. Who could possibly have imagined planning for my future would evolve over the course of over a decade into an epic tale opening a wide range of possibilities that all support one another? Certainly not me. I barely recognize this version of myself anymore. I love her strength, wit, tenacity, fearlessness, and willingness to simply walk away from that which seeks to break her down because it truly serves no purpose. The light of love and existence itself will always prevail, even when it may appear to have lost certain battles. Those battles are meek pitiful attempts to control the world around us out of our fears and negative patterns of thinking which only result in a slow and painful Kamikaze mission if we refuse to address those fears. Free will is our ability to choose the better or worse versions of ourselves every moment of every day. Some days are better than others, but always, always, always, we are beings of grand beauty. I love you. Make the day Great!

June 23rd

I have been slowing down and avoiding the reality that Patrick’s body is burnt to ashes and I will never be able to physically touch him again. This is a physical body trauma. My body is in pain. From nonstop activity ever since. I am exhausted. My chronic fatigue is kicking in. My fibromyalgia has flares mostly in the form of muscular inflammation.

I have just over a month to vacate the premises for the foreseeable future. The gas cost alone to and from Santa Fe is eating up money. Considering my vehicle might only have enough space to transport one or two student desks at a time, I definitely need to hire a moving service for this last big Chunk. If I package the rest of the paintings well enough, they should be able to be handled by the movers well enough. I will be taking one load down to the storage unit today, mainly because there’s a carnival in Santa Fe. And I need to balance out this stress with a fun social outlet; activate my nervous system intentionally to release.

              I have been doom scrolling to avoid this reality of his vacancy and my inevitable vacancy in this house. This house represents so very much for me, and I fear if I feel the grief at all around everything I’ve had to do, I may potentially lose my mind. I feel resistance within myself to this final stage of moving. An almost refusal to let go. Almost. My sense of honor and get it done attitude is allowing me to slowly edge forward, but even so, it feels impossible. I’m also tucking away for the foreseeable future all of these paintings that I’ve been enveloped in for so many years. In lieu of romantic Gestures, his passion for his work has enveloped me in a comforting blanket. As bizarre and grotesque as some of these images are. They also represent a great comfort to me. They fulfilled him in ways I could never and vice versa. His paintings were his passion, and I, his mistress.

              He also forgot to write the titles on the backs of quite a few of these. So I have to make do with the titles he provided me with before for some of them. Others he simply didn’t have a title yet. I also discovered that some of his writings have dates, but he never actually dated his paintings. He always felt that practice was obscene. So I had to record the year at least that I remembered they were completed. I’m not sure I can remember the order in which they were completed exactly.

              My love for these images and the purpose they serve is boundless. I am terrified of this great vacancy I’m so close to feeling and the potential madness within myself that may ensue. The madness of a black hole similar to those he would paint. But this black hole is representing the gravity of this trauma. I’m quite terrified of its potential. But I also have trust in the work I’ve done to be able to navigate this gravitational impact with grace and love as much as possible.

              I’m contemplating and preparing how I am going to navigate the handing in of the key to the property owners. On the one hand, facing her seems too much. On the other, it feels that voicing myself and how they have chosen to approach us caused a great and unnecessary disturbance. What will my words be? I may not know until the moment hits. I also need to stay true to myself and not choose ugliness. That is not who I am. I am a kind person, and I am going to continue on that path. No amount of ugliness from others will shake that essence of self. I do not wish to take anything from these people. I never wanted to take from them. It would be very nice to have the Triangle house back in my world someday in some way, shape or form, but today is not that day, and the property owners are not in a place where a continued relationship is viable. Alas, I find myself at a point of rest and reflection. Love to you dear ones.

June 27th

I find myself at a vista looking over the precipice of the unknown. Behind me, the bizarre liminal space from which I have been acting to get me here, and before me a portal into the abyss. My life’s choices and my healing journey to discover what it means to be truly free from all that I had inherited from my sick environmental conditioning has brought me to a weightless state. In this state, I am centered, and certain. My faith in the functionality of how this reality works, and my ability to navigate regardless of what occurs around me is a strength I’ve not known before, but I certainly embrace with the strength and abundance of love we all have access to.

              This blissful state is the epitome of peace. Easily, it may have been possible for me to give into the fears of that unknown, and lord knows there have been aggressors to agitate me and test my constitution under these human created pressures and expectations. Perfect strangers find themselves suddenly and disproportionately invested in the inner workings of my private daily coping strategies following the death of my husband, and subsequently any loose threads of social fodder to gain social acclaim or reputation are swiftly taken and woven into a false narrative. What a façade of care this is; a show of force competing for the status of who cared the most? Who’s grieving more and therefore who cared more than anyone else? This is a clambering for answers in their own grief processes. I am not responsible for their experience, nor am I responsible for easing their respective guilts and fears that have exacerbated their own personal grief experiences. I see the truth of this from a macro lens. This is not from a place of judgement but as a show of what actually is. Death of those we loved attacks us from the inside and can shatter us in pieces if we allow. I do not have the bandwidth to hold space for these people who clearly are not able to see the bigger picture. Doing so will inevitably cause far more damage to anything that was there before if there was anything at all. Most of these people are only loosely associated with me through Patrick. I do not know them directly or in depth because Patrick chose to step away from those dynamics intentionally.

              Social structures built upon the backbone of fear are a dangerous mechanism. I do not fault those who choose to play the game. I love them more than they may ever know or realize. I write these words not from a place of judgement, but from one of discernment. Discernment and judgement are two very different platforms that often get misunderstood or misdiagnosed. To prevent myself from succumbing to old thinking patterns of that social structure and getting sucked back into an environment that feeds on the suffering of our own minds’ make, I must practice diligently the art of Discernment. Discernment is a platform from which to recognize what is healthy social engagement, how to engage boundary practices to navigate unhealthy social circumstances healthily, and how to use all of the tools developed from building that platform in a way that can help support the energetic community at large. That which is meant for me will gravitate here naturally. That which is not, will seek to either destroy through agitation or seeking to activate or challenge old toxic thought patterns, or will filter their selves out as they display their true motivations through their actions when reflected off of the firm boundaries.

              Again, this life event, however Western culture chooses to define it, is not a loss, but an experience from which I am able to exercise vigorously all of these tools that I have accrued through the diligence of inner engineering. Though my body views it as a loss, the truth of the universe is not in support of that. I must balance across the paradoxical tightrope between the two ideas. This is a practice I am beyond grateful to have discovered and explored so thoroughly throughout my life as much as possible, and not just the last 6 to 7 years that I’ve known my husband. I used to give my credit to my husband to minimize my own inner strength, but that is a fallacy of that social game and old thinking patterns that simply no longer serve me. There is ample evidence to support that consistency of my own diligence to heal and grow throughout my life. That is absolutely of my own creation, and I carry that strength with grace and gratitude. Thank you, younger Janay`, for doing this work that brought me to this precipice of becoming a fully realized being. I welcome the abundance of what’s to come with open arms and release that which is not meant for me from any remnants of ghostly clenched fists.

              Having vacated the Taos, storage unit, I’ve been vigorously acting in preparation for vacating the Triangle house. Listening to his voice through the podcasts has been a great comfort to me. The unyielding authenticity of this precious spirit is invigorating. While I have constant access to him even now through the spiritual dimensions, the vibrational expression in these recordings calms the nervous system of my physical body. He still makes me laugh, which I thought I would lack the capacity to engage following his death. Mmmmmm, my Twin Flame, I love you, honor you, and embrace all that is with you in the coming chapters. I’ve got a marathon approaching, and like any Ollympic athlete, I must continue to train without doubt to ensure my ability to hold fast and act with continued grace.

              Releasing my ghostly grip on the idea of what this house and the proximity of his paintings represented for my old self is cathartic. The weight of my own imposed romantic representations of these physical symbols will only hold me back from what lies ahead. I absolutely am allowed to carry my romantic sentimentalities, but that is very different than gripping to the physical representations of them as hoarders of pain so often choose to do. There is no pain I carry here any longer. Only the abundance of gratitude and love, for what actually is and the truth of what the soul and spirit is. I had a brief period between my last entry and this one where the pain of that, had sunk into my stomach like a hunk of lead preventing me from taking any action or self-care. The familiar act of avoidance through the scrolling on social media gripped me, and my awareness of this toxic state of stagnation jarred me out from it soon enough. Again, I feel I am in the throws of finals week as it relates to my spiritual consecration, whatever that means.

There are no masters here, and anyone who expresses otherwise is someone to run away from far, far away. I am no master and claim nothing of the sort. I simply have sufficient and thorough experience in the art of discernment to hopefully share and support others to navigate their own journeys wherever I can. I am always learning, always evolving and that will never cease to be the truth of my reality. Thank you, dear readers, for your kind attention. I love you, thank you for being here and choosing to continue the good fight regardless of how stuck or lost you may feel. There is always an opportunity to learn and grow, if we get out of our own way. Make the day Great!