Chapter 13: THE THIRD BLOOD MOON (Four Blogs)

The Third Blood Moon

“To resist change is to resist Life.

Life is constant change. 

Welcome it.” 

Written from a wounded heart... 

     Well, we all know that time waits for no one. My year was spent longing for a romantic relationship that I had made up in my head, filled with champagne and sugar plums. Only to be given another opportunity on the week of the THIRD full blood moon (4-4-15) to see that she had moved on, spending that Easter with the daddy of their new baby still incubating in her womb. After nine months of silence, she called me. Why? I still have not figured that one out. I suppose God was giving me another opportunity to let go of my crazy ass illusion that she actually cared. She had not even given me a second thought since the day that we had officially said good-bye. How do I know this? She told me so.

     Looking back on this passage, I can clearly see my anger and lack of self worth. I took the relationship so personally, not realizing that it was all going down for my spiritual growth to let go of my neediness and love unconditionally.

     After Cara contacted me on the week of the Third Blood Moon, I really began wondering what all these eclipses represented. After getting over my initial shock about the new pregnancy, we spent the night of the blood moon talking and texting on the phone. She didn’t seem surprised nor affected by my name change, calling me “Francesca” without skipping a beat. Just another validation that she was “the one” for me. I knew that it was no longer a mere coincidence (not that anything is) that she contacted me on the week of the third blood moon, so I looked it up on the internet... 

     One of the many things that it said about the tetrad was that it was a series of "apocalyptic" beliefs. "In religious contexts, apocalypse is usually a disclosure of something hidden, 'a vision of heavenly secrets that can make sense of earthly realities.' The blood moon prophecy may indicate something very special is about to take place. That they are a sign of significant things to come. Change.”

     At this point, I “felt” as though I had done enough changing for a lifetime, and in my way of seeing it, it was Cara’s turn. 

Good luck to me.  

My Mom

“Our minds so want us to believe that something or someone out there is partially responsible for the way we feel. Unfortunately and fortunately, we are 110% responsible for the way we react and make ourselves feel about anything.” 

     Around this time, my father and I continued to be estranged. My mother, on the other hand, wanted to go to lunch or coffee once a week. During these times, I did my best to learn about her childhood. She didn’t choose to say much. A tell tale sign that it wasn’t a topic that she wanted to discuss. In her younger years, she had moved around a lot, having to spend a substantial amount of time living with her grandparents because her mother (a nurse) had contracted tuberculosis. In her later teens, they settled in Pasadena, Ca. Her father mostly hid behind a newspaper and did not speak unless spoken to. Her older brother was often treated like the underdog and had to sleep in the kitchen while she (being the girl) had her own bedroom. I remember her telling me that she resented the fact that her parents paid for her brother’s four year college, and she never had much of a career. She and her brother were very “different” and never close. I later heard that he committed suicide. No one ever told my parents. 

     In my mother’s early twenties, she married her High School sweetheart, and they had three boys. She and her husband travelled to many countries, lived in Greece, and became Jehovah’s Witness. After many years of marriage, her husband left, writing her a letter that he wasn’t happy. She was beyond devastated, but with much fortitude, borrowed money from her mother and bought a six unit apartment building in Santa Monica. My mother was uncommon for her time. While most women spent their days cooking, my mom would work on the roof and fixing appliances. Later, a neighbor had nominated her for a contest on a TV show in the 1970’s for being such a modern day woman. She didn’t win, but my mom did not seem to mind, often living in her own world. 

     My father delivered a fire extinguisher to her home one day, and that was that. He was her savior (a powerful place for him), although, she later told me that she “tried” to break it off prior to their marriage because they were “too different.” 

     Growing up, mom was always there, but not. She did all the robotic things a parent SHOULD do, but I have to say...seemed more like a slave in a misogynistic world. My father wouldn’t allow her to call my two older brothers (whom I did not know), saying that they needed to make ALL the effort. She would do as told. Although, my parents were together, I realize now that I came from a very broken family, full of misunderstandings, blame, and hurt. Many nights would be spent with my dad complaining about her kids and her despicable ex husband who wasn’t paying child support for my brother. I just remember being fearful of my mom’s past and pretended that it never happened while creating the illusion that it would never affect me. 

      While growing up and following my father’s lead, I was often mean to my mom. She rarely stuck up for herself. When you act like a doormat, most people treat you like one. I was no exception. Many years later, Crystal, the clairvoyant, relayed to me in a reading that she saw a vision of my mom in a wheel chair and said, “You wouldn’t kick your mom in a wheel chair, would you?” Meaning that my mom had debilitated herself, and where was my compassion? From that moment on, I created the willingness to turn myself around, take responsibility for my reactions, and be the daughter that I would want without compromising my own heart. 

      With a big breath, I would pick mom up for coffee dates and not ring the doorbell so that my dad did not have to see me. Often times, she would be waiting outside on the steps of my old home. Our time together was mostly spent with her preaching about Jehovah and how I needed to be saved. I’m not going to lie, there were times that I wanted to put a bullet in my head. Other times, I loved her because she deserved to be loved, plain and simple. 

Here is a Facebook post that I had written at the time...

Coffee Date With My Mom:

She's eighty-three and cute as a bug in a rug. I would have taken a picture of her with her coffee mug except I left my phone in the car. As I sat there tonight at Coco's Restaurant with a cup of joe, I waited. One, two, three...

Mom: "So, what is that on your face?" She said as she pointed to the side of her own nose.

Me: "It's a zit, mom, can't you tell?"

Mom: "Well, it's a bump, that's for sure. And what about these?" She now raises her finger off her nose and points to her chin.

Me: "It's perimenopause, mom." Although, I have had these "bastards" for most of my life. Oops...what I resist-persists. Time to practice what I preach. What I meant to say was, "I welcome my pimples as an opportunity to love myself, anyway."

Mom: "Well, the rest of your face looks good. I am your mother, and that's what mother's do-point these things out."

Me: "Thanks, mom. Thanks."

It's taking me many years, but I FINALLY giggled.

Much later, Cinnamon had helped me to see that I had developed a pattern of laughing on the outside while crying on the inside.  

    I somewhat enjoyed spending coffee dates with my mom, although after telling her about Cara, she became more distant. She had my father constantly in her ear, and I was a sinning bisexual. She feared for my afterlife, telling me that I was NOT going to be one of the 144,000 chosen to reign with Jesus in the after life. Even whispering to me in a cafe, asking if Tanja and I were partners! She also created more judgment about Cinnamon, probably blaming her for all my changes. I know that I would not have created the courage if God hadn’t given me a teacher, AND I was the one who wanted to change and take responsibility for the chaos of my life which I had created. 

     On mom’s less zealous and obsessive days, I would tell her how much I loved her, thanking her for all that she had done for me. She often would say that she didn’t deserve my thanks, telling me to move on with my life and that she and my dad would be “just fine.” I disagreed with her, telling her that everyone deserves love for just being born and that she had done her best. She regretted that she had not raised me as a Jehovah Witness and didn’t listen to me. In fact, no one in my blood family would ever listen to me. I was the youngest and a girl. I spent most of my “family life” arguing, losing my voice, and demanding attention, unaware of the fact that I needed to love myself enough to let go. Year by year, I created the awareness that I had done everything I could and would someday soon need to move forward and become completely responsible for myself.

Farewell to “Friends”

“Are you contributing to what you say you want? Is what you are doing a part of making this occur?”

Blog written around that time

     I did it. I said farewell (NOT good-bye) to the familiar. I did not say good-bye to most of my old friends, for they are in me and always will be a part of what made me Braver. And for that, I am beyond grateful. 

     I so wanted it to be different. I yearned to create authentic relationships with all of my old cronies who I had known for over twenty years. Like the relationships I was just beginning to create. So real and raw, forthcoming and open. People doing their best to take complete responsibility for their actions and thoughts without finger pointing or blame. I wanted my friends to say to my face what they analyzed behind my back. For them to understand me and honoring the changes I was making. And admittedly, to even hop on board the peace train. But mostly, I wanted them to not make up stories based on their programming, especially the story that I do not have a mind of my own. My main observation (and sometimes, judgement) was that if they were really a close friend, they would contact the very person, Cinnamon, who some of them had blamed for my changes and get to know her. The one thing I know for sure is that when someone wants anything badly enough, they go after it and do what it takes. I really got to experience that they thought I was not enough to accept that challenge. It was screamingly obvious that many people created confusion with my changes, working hard to box me into my old programming in order for them to have an intellectual understanding of it all. I get it. Changing one's mind can look messy during the process, and I began to see my own self righteousness and lack of authenticity. It was excruciatingly painful to see my face in the mirror. And so, I began the inner work of looking at my own fears of being inauthentic to the ones who I had labeled "friends."

     This was when the real spiritual work began, and I used them as my reflection. Every time I created separateness from them for appearing to dismiss and demean me, I boldly created a parallel. I observed where I was choosing to go along to get along and addictively demanding that they like and respect my changes. Once I began to honor my path and theirs, I could then create the freedom to be in their lives or not. I knew that it was no longer serving anyone to be in one another's life despite their minds' judgment. It was timely for me to put all my energy into going where it is. By creating the awareness that it was not loving to linger in friendships that lack authenticity, I bid them a farewell. I preferred that they know the truth versus believing I was "too busy" to pick up the phone. I must admit, I looked “bad,” especially when I deleted some of them off Facebook without even a phone call. People pleasing is often the opposite of choosing love. I knew that their minds were made up as to who I am, and I didn’t want to spend anytime debating about something that they would not understand nor want to. Playing the Tug-of-War game would be like arguing with a “right” versus “wrong” mentality and fruitless. I was also concerned that if I spoke to them that more painful things would be said, and I knew that it would be best if I allowed myself to look like a jerk. The hardest part was releasing their need for their good opinion. 

    It was not easy to let go of the familiar. People who I had created  intimacy with, rubbing feet while gossiping and giggling for hours. For I had gone through graduations, cancer, marriage, child birth, and every other special event in my life with some of these people. It was one of the hardest choices I had ever made; I nearly allowed it to kill me. And because I knew and trusted who I really am, I continued to move forward towards others who did, too.

Beauty School 

“Change. It’s one decision away.

On the down side, no matter who you are, you are also one decision away from fear.” 

     Since I was in my teens, I had wanted to go to beauty school. This was my chance to finally become an esthetician and pick my own profession. Shortly after my forty-fifth birthday, I found someone to substitute for me at the dental office and started Design’s School Of Cosmetology. Up to this point, only a few close people in my life were calling me Francesca. I was still not completely used to it and pretty much in the closet. For about the next five months, I was in a classroom with about ten to fifteen women of varying ages and backgrounds, saying my new name all day long. At first, I couldn’t help but giggle inside. It was so refreshing to be around people who didn’t know me by the name of Kathleen. There was no struggle, no awkward silence, no resistance to my change. I welcomed the opportunity to be me and started anew. 

     During the first few months of school, I felt that I had gone back to high school and college. Many times, I felt like I was a character in the 1985 movie, The Breakfast Club, where “Five high school students from different walks of life endure a Saturday detention under a power-hungry principal.” Although some of it was fun, the cliches, the gossip, and the drama were all too familiar. My old program of, “going along to get along” resurfaced. It was as if I had been given a second chance by the Universe to energetically do my younger days all over again. If I wanted to be, I knew how to be popular. Been there and done that. On our breaks, I could have simply molded like a chameleon and go on the group Starbuck runs, or I could take care of myself and spend some much needed alone time with God. I chose the later. Within the first month, I brought oracle cards and gave some of the girls readings. I spoke about choosing love over, Cinnamon, Cara, and my whole transformation. I became the unofficial life coach when needed, and did my best to stay out of the fray. For me, it was beyond challenging. To be in a room everyday with the same women for five (or was it six?) months was NOT easy. Especially when the majority of the students ganged up on the teacher, even reporting her to the administration. It got downright ugly and felt like war. Who am I kidding? It was war, and it seemed that everyone needed to take a side, or else. I did my best to help each one take responsibility for their separateness and create a bridge of compassion. But for the most part, people looked at me like I came from another planet. To live in this world and not of it is something that I am still getting used to. 

     Besides learning how to give a facial, I needed to hit the books and reviewed things that I had already learned in hygiene school. It was much simpler than UCSF, though I still found it challenging. There was a lot to memorize and weekly tests. One of the younger girls was a FAST reader, speeding through the tests like the Tasmanian devil. My old programming of  comparison and stupidity came back to haunt me. To make matters worse, I was becoming farsighted and finally needed readers. Since I had been aging gracefully and remained young at heart, this was the first time in my life that I realized that age was creeping up on me. I was no longer a girl.  

    The irony of my school experience was that after I had spent years of letting go of vanity addictions, I had walked into a room of mirrors, makeup, and tweezers. What did I expect? IT’S BEAUTY SCHOOL! I suppose I “thought” that the vanity arena would be for the cosmetology students-NOT for the estheticians to be. Inevitably, God put a flashlight on my fears, and I got to see that my own struggle with vanity was far from over. My favorite part of school (besides texting Cara all day long) was that I had the esthetician touch. I put all my heart into clients, giving them healing energy and praying over them while they were on the table. I experienced myself as a healer and knew that they received a lot more from my time with them than a facial. 

     By the time I graduated, I had created oneness with every single woman in that room. Sure, there were many moments throughout those long months that I wanted to tear my hair out, judging myself for judging their judgment of me or anyone else. I would session with Cinnamon every morning for my daily pep talk, and she would remind me that any addiction, even to enlightenment, would still lead to suffering. NO exceptions! 

     All in all, beauty school was a huge growing opportunity for me. On graduation day, the teacher gifted me with an earring, much like the one Judd Nelson (the actor) wore in The Breakfast Club. Like him, I placed the earring in my ear, strutted out to the 80‘s theme song, “Don’t You Forget About Me,” and clocked out for my final time. Along with my classmates, Cinnamon, Heidi, Tanja, and even the Kaptain greeted me at the finish line.  My ex husband brought me flowers, and we all took pictures. For me, it was quite a feat that I had accomplished and a day that I will remember forever. 

    About a month later, I passed my exam with flying colors and officially became an esthetician. I drove five hours north, stayed in a hotel room, and took the written and clinical exams all by myself (and without my parents’ help, just like a “big girl”). Retrospectively, it didn’t matter if I had become a formal esthetician. I needed to prove to myself that I was capable. That I wouldn’t be in some gutter if I wasn’t relying on my father’s or former husband’s financial support.  I worked in a spa for awhile and out of my home. I was then offered to work with a reputable esthetician in our area, and I turned her down. My heart just wasn’t in it anymore. I went back to being a full time hygienist. One can only imagine the looks on my old co-worker’s faces when I came back from beauty school and finally asked them to please call me Francesca. Man, if I weren’t me, I’d think that I’m crazy. What am I talking about? I am me, and I am crazy.

July, 2018

    As I look around my office/esthetician room while writing this blog, I can clearly see that no amount of education is ever lost. I went to beauty school for so many reasons other than to become an esthetician. By giving myself a chance at another career, I learned to appreciate my job as a dental hygienist. I even chose to like it, becoming very proud of my profession. I was no longer wondering what else I would have done with my life if my parents hadn’t chosen it for me. Don’t get me wrong, if I earned a living from book sales or giving intuitive readings, I would quit in a second. Fortunately, it enables me the time and money to do what I love. I am so grateful. As this entry comes to a close, I would even like to express my gratitude for my parents. Even though they didn’t go about my career choice in a way that met my models, they worked hard to get me through hygiene school. For that I am thankful. 

    

Chapter 12: THE SECOND BLOOD MOON (Seven Blogs)

The Second Blood Moon

"Life does not make common sense. It does make common lessons. If you insist that life make sense, you’re bound to know great frustration."

     I let go of Cara Bella on Oct 8, 2014. The night of the blood moon just six months after we first met. It was the second of the four blood moons called a tetrad, said to be a rare event. Just like she and I. At 9:00 PM, I wrote a list of eleven things that I was willing to let go of. All about HER. I ripped the paper between each line, and placed every scrap of my wounded ego in a plastic black Cauldron (a Halloween decoration that my son had begged me to purchase the previous day). I threw in a lighter, candle, incense, and sage, preparing for a full moon ceremony. About thirty minutes prior, I Googled some information on how to create a full moon ritual in my backyard fire pit, searching for ways to let go of my addiction to the story that I so wanted to go MY way. New Moon rituals gives one the opportunity to release from the dead past and recreate ones life. Being somewhat of a drama queen and a sucker for ceremony, it sounded good to me. I was finally willing to experience peace and release my attachment to the woman who I "thought" I was to marry and who I had also deemed as my "Twin Flame." Before Cara had introduced me to the theories (or some say) facts about Twin Flames, I had NO idea what those two words even meant. I remember thinking, That must be just another word for “soul mate," and dismissed it. So did she...

     A Twin Flame relationship is described as a special connection between two souls who usually meet under extraordinary and mystical circumstances. The bond is magnetic, often attracting someone who is typically not "your type" and often lives a vast distance away. It is said that Twin Flames are here to foster a paradigm shift of love by loving themselves fully, and the complementing each other in their mission to serve others. While many romantic relationships revolve around feeding the other's ego and completing one another, the "Twin Flame" dynamic is here to obliterate each other's egos in order to experience unconditional love. Subconsciously, it is done by mirroring each others lack of self worth; and thus, often leads to one of them running away from fear of abandonment, criticism, and hurt. If they do harmonize, they will ultimately create a union for spiritual growth rather than for the old paradigm of couples staying together for the purposes of survival, romance, and financial security.   

    When I read this, it was clear to me my own skepticism aside that my relationship with Cara met all the criteria for the description of the twin flame. At this point, I could have a PhD in the subject. Some of you could also be wondering why I wasn't grieving over my eleven-year-marriage changing form. I did most of that releasing while I was still IN the marriage. I left in love, clean and simple. There were no more romantic ties to the Kaptain. 

     I had entered a whole new world of unfamiliar territory, one that completely resonated with my heart. By waking up to Love, I was more alive than ever before. No exaggeration there. Tanja said, "You are like a Genie that just came out of a bottle." She did not know how to react to my new found freedom. For the first time in my life, I was experiencing what I would consider heaven on earth. 

     Regardless of the Twin Flame label (which is really NOT my focus), I was finally willing to know that a part of my life's purpose was to help facilitate a paradigm shift from the Hollywood, "You complete me," type of relationships (which clearly did not work for me) to the uncommon relationship of unconditional love. A feat that could only work if both partners were willing to claim unconditional love for themselves, FIRST. A union that would represent complete wholeness in a consciously committed partnership without the usual worldly neediness that couples often innocently create. 

     You may or may not recognize this type of co-neediness, and I wore the sweatshirt. Warm and cozy with a tag that wouldn't stop itching. This unconventional bonding was so interesting to me, but the question begged...Is unconditional love between two people REALLY possible? After all, it would require massive amounts of responsibility for one's ego, discipline, and bravery. To love myself like God loves me is no easy feat, but for two people to do it simultaneously? Now, that I have yet to experience. The drawback was that I "thought" I NEEDED Cara to live out this part of my life's purpose as if there was no other person in the world to complement my thirst for God and unconditional love. Yeah, fear can be that limiting. Because of this, I continually created the illusion that I had to wait for her to spiritually mature and come back to me. I have now come to know that the power of one is all that is required. Being alone with God is more than enough. There was a time that I thought I would NEVER get over our serendipitous connection, and I have now come to understand that I don't ever need to. Why would I? It was one of the most magical times of my life. I just simply needed to breathe in and let go of my addiction to the outcome going MY way. I needed to surrender. 

     I am relieved, and ecstatic, that I no longer need Cara because I have created the freedom to love her unconditionally, in spite of my ego self. Resisting my love for her only made everything harder. She is a part of my soul, this I know for sure. There is now nothing to let go of, she is always with me, in all ways, as I choose to live a loving life. 

Leaving Fear On Facebook

And then there’s Facebook with all it’s “messengers” and undeniable triggers of comparison and self worth. Sound familiar? Would you like to delete a “friend” or two, responsibly and authentically?

 Blog written around that time...

     I have been on Facebook for at least seven years. Like some of us, I have changed since then. So, what does that mean? I don't have the same interests nor do I have many of the same friends since waking up to a different way of being. And then, there's Facebook. Where I am friends with people with whom I wasn't even friends with in High School. 

About six years ago, I made the decision to live out loud while struggling with my ego. It was not an easy decision to make, considering I was opening my life up for Facebook participants to judge me. Similar to a weight loss journey, I wanted to be an example of what it takes while going through many painful triggers of past pain. For years, I contemplated deleting people from my Facebook account, creating so much doubt on whether to push the "Unfriend" button. It seemed so harsh, and being a programmed people pleaser, I created fear. So, I changed my Facebook account, hoping that they would NOT follow me, enabling me to avoid my trigger. It didn't work. 

     As I moved through my maze of fear, I hurt my feelings over what seemed to be a lack of support from whom I thought would be there for me. After all, I thought people knew that I had been to hell and back. I expected a "high-five" for getting my life together and taking responsibility. For the most part, it did not occur. 

     At this time, I wanted to delete many people from my life and Facebook account, but I was still afraid. You see, I had to go through my fears not around them. That these friends were angels in disguise, offering me the challenge to love myself and a way to manage my ego. This was so hard. Especially, when I made myself a victim of perceived attackers. My mentor would continually remind me that I have placed a target on my chest, and that it is all a part of the game. I just needed to learn the art of Spiritual Aikido and dodging bullets, allowing them to pass by me while tapping into my divine strength. I needed to be my truest self.

     So, this is the reward. Once I let go of my addiction to being "liked" and understood, I was free. Free to go my own way. It was that simple. I called up my wisdom and left in love. On a side note, there were people whom I deleted merely because my heart said so. I had no idea why, I just knew and that was enough. This was the letter I wrote prior to leaving Facebook bondage. 

Dear Facebook Friends, 

I recently deleted my first "friend" on Facebook. It was timely. Surprisingly, I created nothing but oneness as I pressed the "Unfriend" button. You can be assured that this would not have been the case one year ago. 

It is common to think that deleting people from our lives because they don't meet our models is solving anything. Why not? Who cares! We tell ourselves that Love detaches from those blood sucking vampires, and we need to protect ourselves. That they are depleting us from our energy, their gossiping is stealing our light. That we are the light workers in this world and need to surround ourselves with only uplifting and "positive" people. Contrary to the mass opinions of what I like to call the worldly world, Love is not separate from anyone. The sun does not shine less when someone curses its heat. 

If there is an emotional charge inside of your body, even when you just think of the person you are not loving, that is a trigger you could breathe through and let go of. A trigger that you project onto others. We judge others because we are unwilling to take even a sneak peek of how we are not loving ourselves. How we are living in the confining walls of duality, going along to get along with societies models, miserable in our own existence. Our tolerance to suffering has often become so high that we don't even know that we are creating our own hell. We think we are happy. Especially compared to the starving children in Africa, forgetting that comparing is just another form of resistance and making ourselves wrong.

I know this story all too well. I lived it; and at times, still do. I have told myself countless times that if this or that person would just change, I would then be happy. Contrary to the mass opinions of society, your pain has nothing to do with the individual from whom you are separate. When we call up the courage to look at our own demands that we are projecting onto our enemies, we grow in consciousness.  When we are willing to see that we would not know Love without Fear, we begin to welcome the opportunity to create oneness with the person from a spiritual perspective. Only the ego separates ourselves from our fellow awakening beings.

It is only when we do not resist the "what is," that our life begins to transform. Our visions broaden and we see more clearly, creating awareness that this very person is our teacher, here for us-not against. Deleting or resisting the individual that could help you break through your robotic-like patterns, only prolongs the lesson. But no worries, the Universe will patiently keep giving you another soul to condemn until you have either completely destroyed yourself or finally surrendered to Love. Just think, it loves us THAT much. Gee thanks.  

With that said, as I move towards new beginnings of non resistance, I intend to minimize the number of my Facebook friends. For those of you with whom I won't be communicating, I wish you well with all my heart.

Francesca

Surrendering To The Flow Of Life (Letting Go)

“Nothing Is Set In Stone”

-unknown

     The holidays very often bring out the best and the worst in people. Tanja began to create panic as the days to Thanksgiving approached, asking me if I would take off with her and go to Santa Barbara. This would be the first time that she and I created complete freedom on a holiday, leaving our "should" and "should-nots" behind. Following our hearts can often lead to guilt trips by well-meaning relatives who don't understand that it is not about them. My heart told me to follow Tanja's, and I said, "YES." We were both single and decided that it was timely to do the day of gratitude, differently. That honoring our hearts and each other was self loving-not selfish. I hardly considered that we would be in Santa Barbara, the same place where Cara and I had first met. 

     Tanja called prior to our trip and asked, "Hey, are you ok with staying at the same hotel in which you stayed with Cara?"

     Again, not really thinking too hard about it, I said, “Yes.” 

   When we arrived in the sunny coastal city, I flashed back to many nostalgic moments spent with Cara. I began to experience sadness and grief. Even shopping and purchasing some amazing boots did not distract me from thinking about her. Have I still not let her go? I thought. If I have to ask myself that question, the answer would be...NO! 

     A few weeks prior to our trip to Santa Barbara, I wrote about letting go on Facebook:

November 25, 2014

"I don't know about you, but for years I have created something that obviously does not work for me and I needed a new word track. Cinnamon just gave me a new one, and I thought I would share. When someone tells me to "Let Go," I often hear "Get Over It!" My inner whip tears into my psyche. Ouch. This is not what they mean (well, some do), and I am learning to care and not mind. So, here is my new "aha..." Letting go means: I am done, AND will never be over it. Thank You." She continued, “When something has significantly impacted and changed our life, it’s important to retain the experience to honor our own strength because change is critical and our willingness to change is honorable as well as humbling.” 

     As Tanja and I continued our shopping marathon, I realized that all the material possessions in the world weren’t going to heal my wounded heart. So, I asked my sister if we could go back to Paradise Found (the place where Cara and I had received our first psychic reading). In a feeble attempt to find my “paradise,” I continued to search outside myself for happiness. I hadn't spoken to the intuitive in months, nor did I want to. Knowing that she did not work on Wednesdays, I thought she would not be there. Tanja and I began to browse through all the new-age goodies, and I saw a rock that said, "Nothing Is Set In Stone," written on the front of it. Ain’t that the truth. I then poured myself a cup of tea and sat listening to meditative music in a booth alongside the store while Tanja browsed the book section similar to what Cara and I had done seven months prior. Just as I was beginning to melt into a peaceful state of bliss, my bestie lifted one side of the headphones I was wearing and said, "She's here, she's here...your intuitive is here!" My first instinct was to hide, curl up in a ball, and roll out of the store. Instead, I doubted my doubt and took a deep breath. With a genuine smile, I got up from my meditative state and approached Cara’s teacher. 

    To my surprise (and not), she quickly and coldly patted me on my back and mentioned my new haircut while barely making eye contact. If she didn’t have her poodle, I am not sure if I would have recognized the intuitive, either. When she did lift her eyelids to look at me, it was if she had seen a ghost. I bent down to the ground to pet her dog, and she didn't say a word. She just continued to speak over me to a person that was working behind the sales counter, acting like I wasn't there. I created confusion. She and I had spoken at least six times on the phone, and she was the one who had encouraged me to go to Saint Louis alone, asking me to send her a post card. We had created a great rapport. Or, so I thought. Didn't she care how the trip went? Or at least ask me how I'm doing? I then told her that I had been writing about my week with Cara. She rolled her eyes and said, "Well, it’s about time!" (She was the one who had suggested that Cara and I write a book called "One Window, Two Views.") And that was it. Our conversation was done. I walked over to Tanja, convincing myself that it was not personal. Within minutes, the intuitive left the store without saying good-bye. Tanja and I looked at each other, baffled because her behavior was so peculiar and dismissive. In any event, it was just another message indicating for me to let go and move on. 

Francesca And The Homeless Man

“If you are waiting for something to happen, 

forget about it.

Nothing will.

Life is a creation.

It doesn’t just happen.” 

      I have been told many times that the secret to enlightenment is to say thank you to everything, especially to the things that we don't want. Well, waking up Thanksgiving morning to what I was about to receive was no exception. As Tanja was making coffee, I posted, "Happy Thanksgiving To All My Peeps," on Facebook. Instantly, a private message from a relative living in Ireland gave me a huge opportunity on gratitude day. 

     It said...

    "Would you Fuck off" 

     Without a blink, I deleted her. I did not need to post back or add to the drama. I breathed into my own innocence and then saw hers. My mind wanted to figure out why she would write such a thing. Did my dad call and gossip about me, AGAIN? And then, my heart remembered that it was simply another opportunity given for me to breathe and say, "thank you.” I was not going to choose to allow a misinformed or confused relative to ruin my day. Tanja and I headed for the beach. 

    As we began to walk side by side, I asked my sister for some alone time. Of course, she honored my request as she slowed down her pace. I sped ahead and listened to my ipod. The song "Let Her Go," by Passenger, came on. The last verse sent chills throughout my body: "Only know you love her when you let her go, and you let her go." As tears began to flow, I closed my eyes and raised my arms to the sky. I let her go...AGAIN. Cara had her own journey non inclusive of me, and I had to swallow that bitter pill. I felt like I was choking on it. 

     That's the thing about grief and letting go. Just when we think that we are done and have no more tears to shed, there is another layer of pain that shows up. If we dare to feel the pain and move through it, we have the ability to create a calm sense of knowing that we will always be connected in spirit. 

    After my moment, I met back up with Tanja. We walked along the shoreline, searching for heart shaped rocks. Later, we put on our swim suits and basked in the sun. As we spoke about our gratitude for honoring our thirty plus years of friendship and sisterhood, a homeless man decided to join us a few feet away. He introduced himself...

      "Hi, I'm Matthew." 

       I smiled. This was it. It was timely to own my new name and introduce myself.  About a month prior, I had decided to change it from Kathleen Frances Reynolds Chelquist to Francesca Braver. I decided to tell only a few of my closest while still getting used to the change myself.

      "Hi," I said as I held out my hand, "I'm Francesca." 

      "Nice to meet you, Francesca." His blue eyes sparkled and smiled as he said it. My eyes smiled right back. 

      He then wandered off for awhile, and I hid ten dollars in his shoe. When he returned, he gave Tanja and I shells that he had collected along the beach. It was noteworthy that he who was homeless was creating such presence to here, now. He who had so little gave of what he had. He then pulled out the money, and said, "Thank you." My happiness tank was filled to the rim, and I knew it was time. 

     With a big smile, I said: "Matthew, will you support me while I swim in the ocean and wash away something that is not working for me?" 

     He quickly replied: "Do you want me to go in with you?" 

    "No." I replied. "Just please pray for me."

     I then walked into the ocean, relieved that it felt warm. With each step, I began thinking about all my “Kathleen” stories, especially around Cara. And then, I thought of the rock at Paradise Found that said, “Nothing Is Set In Stone." Was she ever going to come back to me? Would I want her back if she did? I did not know. Life changes with every breath that we take, and not even a clairvoyant knows for sure. Francesca Braver knows this fact all too well. That all we have is the present moment. To seize it, cherish it, and claim its' magic. Ironically, it was a homeless Vietnam Veteran who reminded me of this truth. 

     I swam a few feet and came out with my arms reaching for the sun. I created the experience of a rebirth.  Every time I dunked under the water, I emerged as Francesca Braver. 

     Matthew left within seconds of my return.

     Thank you, Matthew.

 Christmas, 2014

“If it is your belief that biological connections should maintain primary importance, then if your spouse has a conflict with your parent, and both make equal points, your allegiance must be with the parent. What a complicated web you’ve woven.” 

Blog written at the time...

     Most families have a tradition during the holidays, here is mine... my father and I would swim in the ocean. Throughout the years, we would dive under the icy cold waves, rain or shine. With towels in her hand, my mother would watch us from the shoreline. Once my extremities were numb and I could not take it anymore, I would run back to my mom, feeling exhilarated and proud. Mostly, because I wanted to make my dad happy, even if I had to freeze my limbs off to do it. He made sure that he was never the one who left me or the water, first. 

     Although I never cease to ask, it had been a few years since our last swim in the Pacific. The Christmas of 2014 was no exception. I had called all week, asking my mother if they wanted to get together at least for a walk. My father never "seemed" available. My mom no longer celebrated Christmas due to her religion, but I thought we could still at least hang out. Even for just a bit. No answer.

     On Christmas Eve, I had spent the night in the guest bedroom in my old home which I had raised Krew. Waking up to him and Santa Claus was a Christmas that I will never want to forget, mostly because we all created happiness despite the "what is." Unlike the years prior, our son created so much gratitude with every gift he opened. My heart was happy for him and our family that had changed form. The Kaptain and I enjoyed each other, laughing at each other's jokes and not taking it all so seriously. After the presents were opened and our bellies were full, I reluctantly called my parents.

    "Hi mom. What are you guys doing?" I created awkwardness by not saying, "Merry Christmas." After some small talk and with fearful hesitation, I asked to speak with my father. 

     She yelled into the next room, "Kathleen wants to speak with you!"

    What I heard next was like a bullet to the heart. "What does SHE want?" He replied with destain in his voice, loudly enough for me to hear.

     Although his words did not come as a surprise, I allowed his depression to penetrate. I bought into his pain, again. 

    "Hi Dad, Merry Christmas." I said, holding my breath. "I was just calling to see if you would like to go to the beach today?"

    "No, we are going to dinner at a friend's house tonight." He coldly replied.

    "Oh...I thought mom did not celebrate Christmas." I said, holding back my pain and tears.

    "Well, it's just dinner." He snapped.

     The phone then beeped. 

     "Kathleen, it's your brother calling on the other line. I will have your mother call you later."

     "I love you, Dad." I said.

     Click.

     I cried in the Kaptain’s arms just moments after he abruptly hung up, creating victimhood once again.

     Later that afternoon, I went to the beach by myself, putting my toes in the sand, thinking back to all the years that we would dunk under the waves. As I laid there, I was again willing to claim Love as my true parent who would never forsake me. I then changed my name on Facebook without explanation. 

     Tanja and I had dinner that night. Just the two of us. I was still grieving and allowing the feelings of sadness flow through me for all the love that had “seemed” to be lost in the year of 2014. After all, Christmas day was to be the day of Luna’s birth. I wondered how Cara was feeling and longed to be with her. 

The following day, I wrote this on Facebook:

What can I say? I changed my name. Not an easy decision as one might assume, yet simple. My birth name was Kathleen Frances Reynolds. When I got married, I didn't want the longest name in history, so I dropped Frances. A decision with which I continued to haunt myself. My father's name is Francis with an "i." He was my God. I served two masters, sold my soul, and suffered greatly. I take FULL responsibility for not claiming Love, the ONLY truth. 

Well, being diagnosed with eye cancer four times (an anomaly) amongst other challenges was still not enough for me to put my big girl pants on and bust a move. Nope...call me one stubborn girl. And that's what I was. A girl. I wanted to go along to get along and be what others wanted me to be. I mastered the art of people pleasing and being a source of entertainment for others. I lived in the cookie cutter "should" world and went against my heart, often.

Until my son was born, my greatest gift.

He may have been diagnosed with some challenges, but I learned later that the spiritual message was far deeper. My fear was bumping into his, and he was energetically begging for me to get out of the good opinion of my friends, society, blood family, and you name it. To be me and shine, giving others the permission to do the same.

As tears roll down my face, I realize that I didn't love myself enough to claim freedom for me, and not even for him. I scared myself way too much. I didn't want to be known as some "GOD" freak. And then one day, when life became unbearable, I got down on my knees, begging Mother Mary to help me. I said: "I'm yours."

One week later, I met Cinnamon H. Lofton in my dental chair. An earth angel who helped me help myself. A humble servant of Love who wants nothing from me except to claim my freedom.

And that's what the name "Frances" means. Freedom. And Braver? Well, that speaks for itself.

With all my heart,

Francesca

                                                            The Italians say it best!

New Year, New Career 

“Truth is not far away. It is not hidden. It is planted deep in the center of your heart. If you haven’t uncovered it  yet, dig deeper.”

2014

    After graduating from hygiene school in my twenties, my parents would continually introduce me as “Kathleen, a Dental Hygienist.” I would hold my breath and “think,” Is THAT who I am? Never creating the same joy of accomplishment that they seemed to be so proud of. Twenty- three years and kagillion clean teeth later, I pulled up my courage and made the decision to be willing to know my own heart’s desire. At which time, I took time off from my career and went back to school full time to become an esthetician. I welcomed the opportunity to choose love and utilized the First Pathway, breathing through a plethora of security addictions. Once I made the choice, it was simple. Not easy. But the years of resisting the truth became unbearable. I never wanted to go to a standard college for four years. Nope, I never really liked school. I wanted to either be an actress, rock star, writer, or go to beauty college and do some girly stuff. But those professions were scoffed at by my family, they were not “safe nor secure” (as if that truly exists). Without any consideration, my father completely dismissed my dreams by deeming them as “nonsense.” Though my mother gave me some hope.. “Kathleen, you can do it after you graduate.”

     Well, twenty-one years later, I took my mom’s advice, and The Power Of The Heart Unlocked all the pathways. I decided to take a leap of faith and go back to school to become an esthetician. My hope was to work in a spa, continuing to write, teach, and help others help themselves by creating the freedom that was always here for them to claim. 

     I needed to walk my talk. Staying in a career for ONLY security reasons was no longer something I was willing to do. I knew that I would continue to work as a dental hygienist for some extra money, and I really began to authentically appreciate the profession that my parents had picked out for me. I actually created happiness cleaning teeth in my last few weeks before school started. 

    I never planned on divorcing the Kaptain and adding another profession. The old adage, “Better Late Than Never” resonated with every heart driven breath. At the age of forty-four, I enrolled myself at Design’s School Of Cosmetology in Paso Robles. I would start in the new year.   

Last Days Of 2014

“To help us break free of addiction,

God is liable to do anything.” 

-Cybele (Love Song)

      Before New Years Day, I usually do a life review of the past year. 2014 was no exception. To end the last days of the year with an unusual bang, my ex boyfriend, Jay, surprisingly invited me to stay at his grandma’s place in Honolulu. We hadn’t seen each other in over ten years and had become phone friends. I made sure to let him know that I was not interested in anything romantic prior to going. 

     Being with him for a week in Hawaii was extraordinary. In looking back, I can’t believe that we actually spent a week together without having sex. This was quite a change, considering that it was one of our favorite pastimes in our twenties. During the week, we hiked, laid out on the beach, ate yummy food, and even spent a day at the spa. It warmed my heart to hear him say my new name with so much ease as if he had been saying Francesca all along. I brought an old scrap book that I had made back in our twenties, including our love letters, old concert tickets, and many photographs of us and our five year courtship. For me, I cherished every moment going down memory lane. But for him, I perceived a sadness in his eyes. Even regret. It had become apparent that he wanted more than friendship (at least on this trip) and even “tried” to kiss me. Our time as a couple had passed, and I was no longer interested in rekindling something that I had left behind along time ago. It’s just another reminder that time waits for no one and to enjoy every here and now moment that we have.

    On New Year’s Eve morning, I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat by myself on the porch of the high rise building, breathing in the shores of Waikiki Beach. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I began to think of Cara and the dream that I had created just five months prior. Gone. Poof. Just like nothing had ever happened. The next day would be 2015, and I vowed to move on from the whole damn thing (again). I was sick and tired of being in and out of  addiction with her and all the mind blowing signs of alchemy. It would be a new year, and I wanted to start it off with a clean slate. I then took a deep breath and wiped my tears of grief. As I took in the breathtaking sunshine of Oahu, I  felt nothing but gratitude. 

     About an hour later, Jay and I grabbed a bite to eat at a breakfast place called, "Cinnamon’s." I couldn’t help but feel my mentor with me in spirit everywhere we went, reminding me to stay centered and loving. At this point, things were becoming more awkward with Jay. He definitely wanted more from me than I was willing to offer. Thank God I knew how to manage myself, appreciating how well the power of love actually works. 

     We spent the last day of 2014 on the beach. Later that afternoon, we went back to the apartment to get ready for a lobster dinner and New Year’s Eve extravaganza with fireworks. Jay’s treat. As I was about to get in the shower, I looked down at my phone. Cara had friended me on Instagram.