[ ᴡ ʜ ʏ ᴅɪᴅ ɪ ʀᴏᴀᴅ ᴛʀɪᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʟɪ? ]

Not because I'm a hippy dippy gypsy. Nope.

The pictures I share may motivate such inferences to the mass solicited woo woo new age tribes of the great Amerikkkas, but nope.

I'm just a lover of the land and a keeper of the earth.

I capture sunrise, sunset and landscape like a religion.

I worship the creator, of all that is, and ever was, in every detail of the micro and macrocosm.

I inhale every fucking molecule of life that I am offered, while my limited time opportunity remains.

Each and every moment.

: horrible, no good, miserable, awful, fuck me, fuck you ones, included.

I was born this way.

Probably, definitely, because I'm ancientAF and this is my last earth life. Trust.

My mom is dying. Don't be sad.

No condolences, please.

I just need to vent.

Like a piping hot, steaming ass, stainless steel, teapot, j u s t RELEASING the valve so it doesn't burn me.

Been there, done that. ✔️

I planned my road trip to see all of the Texass landscapes and sites because I have no desire to ever return to the Lone Star State. Even it's name says 1 Star: Do Not Recommend.

If you're a born and raised Texan I definitely hurt your feelings, but IDGAF, my mom is dying, shut your face.

Block me.

I was born and raised in San Diego, so was my mother.

I knew this picturesk beachfront homeland was never my home from at least the age of 19, if not before.

It still took me 33 years to drop my balls and leave everything familiar behind.

I don't even think I needed the familiar, as much as the familiar, needed me.

Ya, I'm that fucking magical, actually.

Just took me a long time [too long] to innerstand that people love the slide of hand of magic, not the skill: not the alchemy; not the practitioner.

My mom lived in Oregon the last seven years. I was in Arizona two years before she moved there, and for the last year, Texas. Fuck Texas.

My mom never left San Diego, CA until she met Depoe Bay, Oregon²⁰¹⁹.

If you've never been, it's pretty mystical.

She lived in a forest community where all the paths led to the ocean. Granted it's always fucking raining and never exceeds 70°, nonetheless, the forest meeting the raging sea is a sight to behold. I held it.

the path from her house, through the forest, to the raging sea. I felt it. s t i l l [here].

I didn't talk to my mom, for most of my teenage and adult life, except for the twice yearly, birthday and mother's day, obligatory calls.

We didn't have beef.

We had I'm not delusional or insane and I can't| won't play with the fruit loops and remain sane sauce. That's all.

She was diagnosed with lung cancer²⁰²⁴ and in all honesty I knew nothing about it until I was told she was already finished with chemo and scheduled for a surgery.

For shits and giggles [because that is what most think of it]: I am a holistic health, nutritional therapist, shamanic energy medicine master, registered yoga therapy practitioner with a 15 year old holistic health and wellness business and 17 years of education and training [an expert in cellular and physical anatomy- more so than most MDs], which, began when I exited a career in medical billing, equipment and pharmaceuticals.

So, ya, I kinda know some shit.

But it's post chemo and surgery time.

The only thing my mom had going for her at this point is, this, is her first earth life.

She's like a newborn all drooly and googly eyed, dependent on anyone and anything to sustain her.

She believed.

Who am I to challenge her newborn beliefs?

I tried. I gave up at 19. I allow her to believe. But, I wield the gift and burden of: ancient wisdom, knowledge, experience, expertise, and alchemy.

I stayed her bedside for over a week, like a hawk, watching every medical move and order: questioning, correcting, directing, declining, refusing, recommending.

I never slept: I cat napped.

I wasn't there to save her, or rectify our relationship. I have no regrets, no nothing.

I was protecting her from a system she believes cares about her more than I do.

It doesn't. Trust.

I'm not convincing anyone, of anything.

If you read me, you know, IDGAF.

I'm simply processing data. Computing. When I am done, you'll know something you maybe didn't and I'll be a little lighter.

That's all.

Last year I spent thr33 weeks: 12-14 hour days: cleaning, painting, patching, repairing, her house to sell it, pack her up and move her [driving] back to Cali. [Beautiful photos and videos btw].

We arrived February of this year²⁶. I stayed in Cali for her birthday: February 25. She turned 75. 🎉

I returned to Texas for a lil less than two months, where, hey, I started substack. And, had to pack up all my shit and drive to Cali, again, but the long way round Texas, back to NM, AZ and,

I'm [here] now, back, back to Cali, because she wants to be close to her family, of which, I am.

She gave birth to me, gave me life and I honor and I respect that.

I have to navigate the trials and appointments and bullshit I spent months: educating, empowering, providing resources, tools, advising, preparing, and guiding her for.

She doesn't want it.

She wants to be coddled.

By, a system, who, makes more money off her slow death than her wellness, or quality of life.

But, I'm her daughter.

And,

she,

wants me,

by her side.

Could it, should it, would it look different if she knew what I know?

Yes.

Does she believe that?

No.

•••

My grandfather wrote his own eulogy.

He died from cancer¹⁹⁸⁹.

He was a different kind of being.

I am everything my grandfather is, and was.

He will walk her h♡me. He will teach her. He will guide her. Then, she will see. Trust.

he knew shit.🌾