Coral’s Healing Room at Coralsblog.com 505-269-9242 iwritetohealmyself@gmail.com I rise early. I go to bed early. If you need me, I will make myself available to you.

Please reflect and pray with me…

Good morning everyone! Happy New Year’s Eve! This day used to be a huge drinking day for me. Everyday was a pretty huge drinking day for me, come to think of it. Anyway…I was fucked up five years ago on this day. Thankful for another shitty year behind me…praying for a better next year…yada, yada, yada…and shots for everyone! I don’t even do shots…unless someone pours or buys me one! Okay though!!! That’s how I spent the first 41 years of my life. Mindless. Careless. Numb. Fucked up. Miserable. Hostage. Stuck. Sad. Drunk. Fighting. Fucking. Arguing. Drinking. Drinking. Drinking. So on this, the eve of a brand new year, I thank God for the friend of Bills he sent to me on that day, on my way to happy hour…a friend needing a friend to go to an AA meeting with her. Sure I could go to an AA meeting on my way to happy hour! I know my friend is going through a hard time and hey, I heard they have free cookies and coffee and I should eat before I hit the bar anyway, right?

I never made it to the bar that evening. I never made it to the bar again. My name is Coral and I am an alcoholic. Thank you Tamara for inviting me to that meeting five years ago. I will be five on January 2nd, 2019. “There but for the grace of God go I.” This morning’s reading on the last day of the year was so powerful for me that I wanted to share it with you also. Thank you Bill.

I am so glad you are here! I really am. Blogging every day, no matter what, has been so good for me. I am going to blog every day for another year. I have heard from so, so many of you who come here. I know my blog has helped you too. To be able to go somewhere every single day, and to know that someone else will be there too…I guess that has helped a lot of you and I am so happy to hear this! You being here every day helps me too. Especially on my most difficult days…you being in the healing room with me…well it helps me so much. Thank you.

As I spend today in prayer and meditation and in loving time and space with my girl, I think of each of you. I want you to know that. As we walk each other home, I place your hand in mine. I place my arm around your shoulder, and I pull you close to me. I whisper in your ear to remind you that I’ve got you. I am because you are. Ubuntu. We are all here to love each other home. We live in community with people starving and dying in our streets. Hooray for me and fuck you, as Tamara says..when we have an attitude of ingratitude.

I am on a hellbent mission to love us home and I will not stop until I’m done. I may not be your typical preacher and I may not speak to you at all. I may though, speak to you. Will you please pray with me? For the year behind us and for the year ahead…for this very moment, let us pray.

My soul brother Rumi, we come to you thankful this morning. We are thankful for the last 365 days…the 525,600 minutes of the year behind us. We ask for your love and guidance for the 52 weeks and 8,760 hours ahead of us. Most of all though brother, we ask you to help us to live in this moment. Just this one…right here and right now. The past is behind us. The future is not promised to us. The present truly is right here and right now. In this fucked up crazy world, where everyone and everything is our business…gently remind us that everything is not our business. We know right from wrong. Lord help us to do what we know in our hearts to be right and just. If we cannot find it within us to stand up…God give us the courage to stand down. If we cannot help them Lord, please stop us from harming them. Please hold our tongues in pause before we cut those we love the most. Please God remind us that we are all the same. Not one of us will be whole until each of us is whole…please let us understand this. Our brothers and our sisters, different from us and yet so very much the same..please let us recognize ourselves in one another. There are no beings less than any other beings. There are people. There are sentient beings. We are all the same. Please remove the slurs and the labels and the judgement from our lips. God please remind us that we’ve two ears and two hands…two eyes and but one mouth. Let us shut our mouths if we’ve nothing nice to say. Let our silence be our gift. Let our words always be kind. Let us love. As we learn who we have been, Rumi, guide us to forgive. Ourselves and those who’ve harmed us…let us show your grace and mercy…let us feel your grace and mercy. Let us know that God is in us…that we are God…that God is us. Let us no longer be separate. Let us love. Father forgive us where we have fallen short. Lift us up. As we come into a new year, we ask with all of our hearts, that you teach us how to love. Open us to your messages. Protect us from the harm that knows know bounds as we stand up in silent solidarity for and with one another. Teach us to stand in silence and in peace, until our voices are warranted. When our voices are warranted, God let us remember to ask if it passes through all three gates; Is it true?Is it necessary? Is it kind? If it does not pass through these gates, let us keep our lips closed until it is. Let us stand up for ourselves and for one another. We learned it wrong and we ask you to help us right it. We misunderstood and we ask you to forgive us. We ask you to bring forth the leaders who are here to love us home. And so it is. Amen.

Thank you for praying with me. Have a beautiful day and please be safe. I love you. Don’t drink and drive. Hey…better yet, don’t drink at all. Be present. Be sober. Be real. Five years later and thankful as hell, I highly recommend setting that bottle down completely my friends.

You may call me ma’am…

Happy Sunday everyone! I won’t even pretend that the struggle is not real for me today. The struggle is kicking my fucking ass today. I am hurt. I am frustrated. I am tired of the fucking hate. I am suffocating and gagging on the words people are fucking mincing. I am fed up with the bullshit. I am over being fucking lied to. I am sick of feeling spiritually bankrupt because I am often so undervalued that I actually believe I’m not worth much…it’s bullshit and yet I buy it. I am done buying it.

Things are coming up for me that are torturing my soul. It’s not forever. For now though…I am a bit fucked up over it. I’m definitely worn out from it. I’m sick because of your sickness and I’m a little pissed about that on this day. You….and you and even you throwing me away has left me feeling a bit like a piece of fucking trash. And to be bluntly honest…I throw up in my mouth a bit when I hear the shit I hear spewing out of yours. Your are ignorant and you do not wish not to be so. You are hurtful in action and only sorry in words. Your words hold no value here any longer. The moment the truth was lost…the moment the tables turned and promises started getting broken…the moments that followed became increasingly difficult for me. Today is difficult for me. It hurts me to say it, and yet say it I must…I won’t be your whipping boy. It hurts me to say it because I didn’t know that I was until the beatings commenced. The faces I see in the dark are darker and more familiar than I remembered them to be. The color that faded to black is coming back in technicolor now. Denial does not serve me and so I speak my truth. You need not listen or hear it any longer. I’ll not waste my heart and my voice to fall on deaf ears any longer.

Like I said…the struggle is real for me today. The words bouncing around inside my head are crushing my reality a bit. I have been stuck in a full blown PTSD spin since 5:00 or so AM. I cannot get out. I have cried most of this day and I have remembered things that hurt my heart. I saw a video of Tiffany being taunted and teased and fucking abused and tortured by ignorant and senseless fools and I fucking weep. God damn it do I weep. I know that pain. I know those snickers. I know that rage that boils over when you just want to be yourself…and you are not permitted to be. I know the hurt of being the person you say you hate, without knowing anything about me. Your ignorant and foolish comments, ignorant as they are, hurt me. Tiffany is my sister and if I hear you call her brother, I will not stand by and pretend that I did not. Tiffany is my sister and you will not fucking call her mister…or sir…not on my watch…not without a word from me. I will not be silent when you hurt my sister. I will not stand down when you stand up where you don’t fucking belong. The ignorance flowing from your lips like wine is not intoxicating to me…your breath of too much drink and the slur across your lips keeps me remembering why it is that I am sober. Thank you. Tiffany is my sister. I ask each of you to please send my sister Tiffany your love. As long as one of us broken, not one of us will truly be whole.

Words hurt. The withholding of words hurts even more. I ask each and every one of you to give yourself permission to stand up for what is right. Do not stand by laughing and mocking and teasing too. Do not forget that what enrages you about me deeply touches something in you that you’ve not yet resolved. Let me not forget the same thing in my conflict with you. I hurt so badly tonight that I cannot console myself. I hurt for who we’ve become…for how we treat one another…for how we toss each other aside…for how we hurt the animals…for how we hurt our wives…I weep for Tiffany, for I see and feel her in myself. I stand with Tiffany. I am going to ask you to stand with my sister too. You may call her ma’am and you can treat her like a lady. If you cannot do these things, then say nothing to her at all. Do not question her, as it’s not your fucking business. I don’t ask about yours and you don’t ask about mine. Deal? I’ve got my sisters back. I will always have my sisters back. If you do not have my sisters back, then you do not have my back either. I am my sister. My sister is me. You are my sister and my sister is you. The sooner we all know this, the sooner we will all be free. What holds you hostage bars me in also. Your pain is mine. Your hurt, mine.

This blog is dedicated to my sister Tiffany and to all of my brothers and sisters in the Queer and LGBT 🏳️‍🌈 community. We have every right to be here. We will not be silent to make you comfortable and we will not stand down when you step up. You are out of line. You have been called out. We will appreciate it for you to stand down, step the fuck aside and treat us like ladies. You may call me ma’am…although I prefer you call me Coral. If you call me sir by accident, I will understand. If you call me sir again, I will correct you more audibly. You will call me ma’am or you will not call me at all. And so it is.

Please send out all of your love tonight to my sisters and my brothers who will not be silent any longer. We will stand up for ourselves and for each other and I am going to ask you to stand up for us to. Will you please stand up for my sisters and brothers and I when you see us being persecuted? Your silence hurts us more than their infliction. Please know this. If we matter to you, like you say we do…start standing up for us. You may call me ma’am. And so it is. I love you Tiffany. I love you. Goodnight.

We fucking love you Cherie!

Good morning everyone! We woke to a blanket of white snow on everything and 8 degrees outside! It’s beautiful and peaceful and quiet and serene. I am home here and I am so thankful. I belong here and I am grateful. I am at peace here. Even in my unrest, I am at peace here in these mountains, here with this woman, here with these sentient and beautiful and peaceful and healing beings. Everyone is still safely tucked inside their cozy beds awaiting the sun. I came down to write and to meditate. The pellet stove burns bright and the lights glisten off the snow. I sit to spend some time with you this morning. Wherever you are, I hope you are safe and warm and content. Thank you for praying with me yesterday. We will be praying together a lot, to heal us all. Until every single one of us is whole, not one of us will truly be whole. We must come to understand this…to know this and to be the love that tips the scales, not the hate that keeps us petrified, holds us hostage and stunts our evolution and our growth.

There is someone sleeping in our house right now whom epitomizes love. Love is an action word and this woman is in action…in selfless action…consistently and all of the time. Yesterday morning as Tamara and I were shoveling and snow blowing our way to everyone, this beautiful woman was preparing for a trip to our house, to help dig us out. With her permission, I to dedicate my blog today to our dear friend and sister, Cherie. Our beautiful angel…Cherie.

Our beautiful angel lives at least an hour from our home, on a good weather day. As I had mentioned, we have been under blizzard watch and the roads, though open, were treacherous. We had at least two feet of snow on the ground and it never stopped snowing yesterday. With many obligations of her own and with her snow shovel and her overnight bag in tow, she set out to brave the storm for us. We had no idea she was coming until she texted to let us know she was stuck and awaiting a tow.

I have spoken endlessly about love as a verb…love as an action word. When we love, we are moved into action. Love is why we are here in the first place.

It is now 4:30pm and everyone at Santuario is tucked in safe and warm. Our dear friend and sister Cherie is home safe and sound…cold as a popsicle and probably ready for a good nights sleep. Cherie left her own rescue and her own dogs and her own husband and their home to come and be of service to us. I cannot think of a more shining example of selfless than that, can you? We had a slumber party here at Santuario last night. We broke bread together and we talked to and listened to one another. We love you Cherie! Thank you for making time for what is important you. We are touched beyond words at your love in action. We are sorry for all of your troubles trying to reach us and we are glad you are home safe and sound with your babies tonight.

Thank you to our neighbors for giving Cherie a hand. You guys know who you are and you fucking rock! Thank you for stopping and taking the time to help a dear sister of ours in need. Tamara and I love you and are so thankful for the love up here in the hood! Truly. We have amazing fucking neighbors. We have amazing people in our lives and we just want to thank each and every one of you for how you see and love us. We love you all right back!

Back to Cherie…what a glorious human being…what a selfless example of love in action. Cherie, thank you for leaving all that you love and hold dear in life to come and help us. We love you. We thank you. We’ve got you too sister!

This evenings, I write for us all:

Some of us who feel the least loved are the most loving. Some of us who hurt the worst, help the most. Some of us who cry ourselves to sleep at night wake up every morning, just to make you smile. We go so far out of our way for others sometimes that we actually often forget our own way back. We love. We love fucking fierce. We regress. We begin again. We fall and we stand back up. We know you need us to stand back up and so we do. We hurt. We are love. We stand united and we know that we are not alone. We show up. We know why we are here and we are fucking in…we are all in…all the time…we are all in. We love. We forget that we deserve love to. We are learning who we are…how we feel and what we want. We will let you know what and how that is. We would appreciate like effort from you. We matter. We love. This is how we do it…those of us who walk this walk. We just fucking do it. We are all in. We are inspired and we are on fire. Our crowns have been fucked with and our sparkles have been dimmed…our dreams and lives shattered…our bodies wrecked and savagely beaten…and still, we will not back down. We stand up for you when you are right. We stand up to you when you are wrong. We care. We draw a line. This line is our boundary. We honor our boundaries and you will honor them too. We insist. We…who is we? We…you and I…him and her…them and us…we. I speak of each of us…of all of us. We are all the same. We are never individually whole until we are each whole. I am because you are. Ubuntu. I love you.

Thank you Cherie and everyone who loves us like a verb. We love you right back! I’m off to enjoy a cozy evening with my girl and our dogs. We miss them when we get so busy. Tonight we have family night and we count our blessings…and you are among them! Thank you. I love you. Goodnight.

Thank you for this inspiring post this morning Diane! Sharing it with everyone else too! I hope you don’t mind!

Please bow your heads in prayer with me for our homeless community this cold and treacherous morning…

Good morning everyone. I humbly ask each of you to spend some time in prayer with me this morning for our homeless community, for all beings less fortunate than we are, that they may feel our love. I wrote a prayer at the end of my blog and I ask you, if you’re so inclined, to pray aloud with me, with all of your love and positive intention, for those who need our prayers.

Happy snowy morning everyone! We are under blizzard watch until 6:00am tomorrow. We have been shoveling since 5:00am and have the animals paths dug out on one side of the property. Tamara is feeding now. I’m taking a quick break to blog and then we will continue shoveling. We have a couple of feet of snow and it’s been snowing constantly. The snow blanket it beautiful. I have fond memories of snow days when we were kids. As I sit here in the studio now, I am thinking of my little brother and how we used to play and play and play. Shawn was my very best friend and we lived in our own little world. We had such love for one another. I realize that we still do have that love for one another. I am so fucking thankful for this that I cannot even find the words. I love you Shawn! We could build quite a snow family in our yard!!! We used to scrape enough snow together for a small snow child…this is fucking epic!

I want to thank each of you who has reached for me during these very difficult holidays and the three year anniversary of my Moms passing. The struggle has been off the fucking charts for me since October. Actually, let’s be honest…the struggle has taken me the fuck out for almost three years now. I am ready to live my life. I am ready to laugh and sing and dance. I am ready to embrace those who embrace me back and to move away from those who do not. I am ready to write. I am ready to learn to play guitar…a lifelong dream of mine…bucket list for me. I am ready to celebrate five years of sobriety next week. I am ready to fall in love with my girl all over again. I am ready for new relationships with each of the animals here, especially our dogs, as I learn that I do not need to control them. They do just fine without my micromanagement. They have their own dreams and desires and wants and I’m ready to step back and let them be themselves. I am ready to be financially comfortable and secure. I am ready for long hikes with Tamara, snow shoeing and inner tubing…laughing until it hurts and then laughing some more with that beautiful girl. I am ready to wake up from the slumber that has kept me. I am ready to accept what I cannot change. I am ready to not take things personally…to not take you or anyone else personally. I am ready to be of service in any and all ways that I am able. I am love. I am ready to share my love. And so it is.

Wherever you are today, be safe. Slow down and take your time. Enjoy the beauty around you. Give thanks for the wonder and beauty that you are.

I ask everyone to stop what they are doing and to share a moment of solidarity with me, for the beings on this planet who have no food, no water and no shelter this morning. Please, with me, let us send them all of our love, by saying with me;

“God in Heaven, looking down, next to my mom and so many of our moms, please grace us with the angel of Fatima, that she may spread herself like a blanket, over those who need her warmth. God please shine down and grace those suffering and less fortunate, those freezing and without homes…without showers and running water…without food and without the love they deserve this morning. We close our eyes and we pretend they do not exist and God, we are sorry. We look away. We fail these beings, all of them, every single day, in so many ways. God, please right us in our hearts. Please help us to understand and to teach that we are all the same. We were each created equal and then we changed the fucking rules. We are ashamed of ourselves for ever believing that we were more than or better than anyone. We are not in action God. We are sorry only in our words. Please move us to action. Please inspire us to love everyone. Please teach us peace, so that we may know it in our hearts. God, for every single person, the thousands in my city, and for everyone displaced elsewhere God, I ask that you raise up their cries so that we cannot not hear them. We were born into white privilege and we are ignorant enough to think we are not. We have what we have largely based upon the soil we were born on. We are not better than anyone else. Please remove the illusion that we are any more in any way than any other living being. God, many of us don’t believe in you at all, and we just want to throw that out there. Please find your way anyway, to soften our hearts to love. Every homeless person, and there are so, so many…God please touch them that they may feel you and not give up. We aren’t moving quickly enough and so many of our brothers and sisters are suffering and dying before we can reach them. God, please place those of us in action, in places where we can be of more help. Please guide us to more resources. For this moment though, for each suffering and broken and tormented soul who has not known our love, please God, guide us to them, that we may love them. Please break us down so that we may humbly build from the bottom with them, a foundation as solid as the one we were gifted. God, please hear our cries. God, please soften our hearts. God please help us to help our brothers and sisters. And so it is.”

Have a beautiful day everyone. Thank you for praying with me this morning. I love you. Please allow everyone, everywhere to feel my love this morning.

I love you Valerie!

Good evening! We have just been issued a blizzard watch out here in the east mountains. Internet service is in and out, so I will blog every day if I am able and post. If not, I will blog every day and post later.

I am feeling so many of you and your struggles lately. Today, I write my blog for Jan and Valerie. Beautiful sisters with psalms unsung and time cut short. Love unmatched and memories that only they share between them. Today would have been Jan’s Birthday. Those Birthdays…the ones we are here to remember without them and they are gone from here to celebrate with us…they fucking hurt us so badly, don’t they? I ask each of you to send my very dear friend Valerie all of your love this evening, as she misses her beautiful sister Jan. Please say it with me…”I love you Valerie.” That is how we do it. We love each other through it. That is how we will always do it, here in the healing room. We are loved here and safe here and home here and I thank you for joining me here.

These holidays…these memories and this pain…real to so many of us. We must realize how much alike we are…how much the same we are. We are not alone, even when we feel the most alone. We must share our stories so that we can love each other through it. We are blessed to be able to love. We really are.

We…us…you and I…we are not so different. I just wanted to remind everyone, including and especially myself. We are here to love each other, to walk each other home…to celebrate one another and to hold each other up. We are here, not for ourselves…we are here to be of service.

Wherever Jan and Sherry and Mary Kay are tonight, I pray they are happy and healthy and whole. We miss them here so much and we ask that they make themselves known and present to us as we struggle. I ask that they wrap their loving arms around us so that we know for sure it’s them…that they visit in our dreams and hold us in our daily lives…angels among us always, I ask that they give us each an obvious and unmistakable sign of their love for us, that we may find some comfort…have some closure…share a laugh and a smile or two. And so it is.

I bid you all goodnight.

I love you. I love you Valerie, love Jan

The morning after my shift in consciousness…

Good morning everyone! I hope you had a wonderful Christmas yesterday. I woke up in pretty rough shape and I really had to search my soul to rise above it. I meditated and medicated and prayed. I cried and I broke down. I wailed and broke inside. I went inside to get ready to go out into the world and be of service and I got a text from my Dad, for Christmas. A text. In the shower, I thought, I will call my Daddy when I get out of the shower and wish him a Merry Christmas. I came out of the shower spiritually lifted and powered up a bit and yet still struggling. I picked up my phone and I saw the text. I started to unwind. Tears started to fill my eyes again. My chest got tight and I wanted to crawl back into bed. Hearing nothing from my Dad on December 3rd, because the text he wrote never sent, we agreed to call and not text on important days. His idea and I concurred…no more texting, especially on the really hard and important days. And I sit here hurting and not feeling that I can write about it…reading it might hurt him so I must not write it at all. I’ll just carry it. Guess what? I am done fucking carrying it. The hurt I’m feeling…the loss I’m suffering…the one who I miss more than my dead Mom…it’s my Dad. I fucking miss my Dad. The man I write about…the man I can no longer reach…that’s my Dad. The text I got on Christmas, that said says Merry Christmas and you hope I have a decent day…that text was from my dads phone…on Christmas, and I almost shattered completely. I refuse to dwell here any longer. This mother fucking pain is too much and it’s not mine. I’ve plenty of my own. I love my Dad and I begrudge him nothing. His absence is noticed and has been for quite a while now. From October through the holidays, since my mom got sick and died, I have struggled. I walked through the initial struggle of losing my mom with my dad and I left my life and my partner to do so. I regret nothing. I only know better now than to ever put anyone above my partner, even my dying mom and my horribly grieving father. My family business is no ones business and so I regress. Corals blog though…this is mine and I write to heal myself. I come here to heal me and to sort my life out. I do my best to be respectful and to exercise decorum. I write, with love, my truth…the only truth I have, to help to heal us all. I write to get out what has been held captive inside me. As soon as it’s written, I say a prayer of thanks for the lessons and I allow them to become blessings for us all. I package them up neatly and I return them to the universe for the greater good of us all. And so it is. This blog though…Corals blog…this is mine. I write what I want and how I feel. I write my story and my experience here. You may not edit me or silence me or tell me who I am here.

I grew up with so much expectation on me to be a certain way and to do things in a certain way. I tried very hard to meet those expectations. I will not do that anymore. I don’t meet expectations. I will treat you how I would like to be treated. When you take advantage of that, I’ve no choice other than to take myself out of harms way.

My time is valuable. I am valuable. My wants and needs are important. How I feel is important. What I think is important. When I say “No.”…I would like to remind you that no is a complete sentence. I need not expound upon it or repeat it, nor justify or explain it, to anyone. I am taking me back. I am not living under anyone’s shroud anymore. If you have time with me and you don’t honor it, that is okay…it just won’t be freely offered again. Other people who need my time and value me and my time will be graced with my presence and my time.

Christmas was beautiful yesterday. Tamara and I fell apart in the kitchen together. We miss our moms so much. We held each other up and we had coffee together. We cooked together and we got ready and left together, to begin our new Christmas Day tradition together. We had a choice to stay in our pain or to go out and be of service and we chose the latter. We were blessed ten-fold and loved and hugged and nourished. We gave and we received. We loved and we were so loved, by so many. Many of our dearest friends joined us and we made many new and dear friends yesterday…new memories and beautiful conversations. Thank you sister for having us! We love you!

As I sit here this morning, my heart is full. We each make time for what is important. For what is not important, we make excuses. We all make money for what is important. For other things, less important perhaps, we make excuses. I’m going to be real honest here…that’s the way I see it and that is the way I try to live my life. If you don’t have the time to spend with me, just say so. No hard feelings and you don’t need to check me off of your list. You really do not need to do that. Just don’t put me on your list in the first place of you aren’t going to show up. Easy enough, right? I’m not talking about emergencies and broken hearts, being rendered catatonic in debilitating grief…of course I don’t want you to put me before you, ever. Here’s the thing though…don’t tell me you will be there or that you will do something when you’ve no fucking intention of doing so. You know who you are and you know what I mean. Just fucking stop already. I don’t have time for it and I won’t make time for it any longer. Awesome! Glad I got that off of my chest. Who needs shit like this in their lives? Truly…who knows exactly who and what I speak of? It’s the same fucking people all of the time…I call them arm chair volunteers…look at me on social media, offering to be of service, and never fucking showing up…look at me saying I’ve got you when I have absolutely no intention of getting you…look at me being your friend while I stab you in the fucking back…look at me inviting you to say I did and not giving one shit whether you come or not…look at me only contacting you when I need something from you…enough already please. Truly, I am hellbent to be here for you…every single one of you, whenever you need me and however I can. I simply ask that people with no intention of being where they say they will be and with no means of doing what they say they will do to step aside and let people step forward in authenticity. Fair enough?

My circle…my inner circle has shifted dramatically. I’m keeping it small and I’m keeping it real. I’ve no desire for anything less than all of you…your authentic you. I desperately struggle with not taking things personally. I know I fall short. I am a work in progress, just like you. I will never ask you to be perfect. I am asking you to be real.

Yesterday, the real people showed up and it was beautiful. One of our sisters was stricken with grief and pain unimaginable for most of us, and so we held her with us in our hearts all day. We hold her there still as she learns a new way of life. So do we all, struggle in the learning of our ever-changing, ever-shifting and ever-evolving lives. I hope you each heart center this morning as I learn a new way of life myself. Have a beautiful day everyone! Thank you for the color you bring into my world. I love you! I really, really do, love you. I hope you know that.

Christmas to me…

Good morning. Merry Christmas! I mean if that’s your thing. I am finding that Christmas is not my thing at all. I won’t be writing about Yuletide and joy and decking the halls this morning. You are probably going to church for all of that, like I did for the first 18 or so years of my life. I won’t offer you any of that. In fact, I sit here wondering what all of that really is anyway? Reindeer and Christmas trees…baby Jesus in the manger and exorbitant spending landing so many in debt. Suicide rates climb and alcohol consumption sky rockets as we celebrate baby Jesus? What in the literal fuck? I mean no disrespect…truly. I just cannot help but wonder what all of this Christmas hype is really about? I can guarantee you that it is not about baby Jesus.

I landed in Hell last night and I’ve not re-emerged just yet. These feelings get pushed down and back every year and this year, stifled and repressed. Not this year…this year on Christmas morning as I open not one gift, and as I sit with no tree or Christmas decorations, I wish myself a merry Christmas. I wish you a merry Christmas. That’s it. That’s all I’ve got. This day is just another day to me. Unfortunately this day cuts me deeply and I’m not done bleeding just yet. Sherry was Christmas and although she was with me in my dreams, Sherry didn’t make it again this year for Christmas morning. The primal cries dislodging their way out of me this morning feel as though they are fracturing my very soul. Sherry was Christmas.

Days like today wreck me in ways that I cannot articulate. The world feels cold. The world is missing. Tangled up in tinsel and swiping credit cards like clockwork…pushing through crowds in a hurry to get the right sizes and the best deals…disregarding one another and human decency all together. Buying dead birds and stuffing them up their ass so that we can be thankful…ya, I don’t get it. I really have determined that don’t get it.

I remember the joy of Christmas and holding Shawn’s hand as we waited in the hall together for everyone to walk in together. We were so excited to see what Santa brought us! Our Christmases were magical and storybook…full of wonder and joy…family and friends…delicious food and gifts…our house was always a destination spot for sure. I am so thankful that Shawn and I are speaking again. Everything else and everyone else from Christmas past is gone from me. I don’t really feel sorry for myself. I feel sorry. I feel sad. I feel a little lost and empty. I hurt so deep and so badly last night that I prayed I wouldn’t wake this morning. I’ve not prayed that prayer in a while. I meant it. Alas my prayer was not answered and so I am down here in my studio…writing and trying to figure out how to come to life. I cannot stomach the mean and the nasty and the short and the snippet. I cannot understand the irritability and the frustration so present everywhere. The intolerance and the outright abuse all around me. I literally feel it killing my soul slowly and I am tired of fucking dying this slow and agonizing death, over and over and over again. I don’t want to be too much and I am. I don’t want to feel like I’m not enough and I do feel that way, a lot. I don’t want to make excuses for you as to why you are as you are to me. I don’t have any fucking idea why you are as you are to me. I only know that it hurts and I don’t like it. You left and I watched you. I’m not crazy as many suggest. I’m honest. In a dishonest world. The truth that I crave and the denial of it have always made me feel a little crazy I suppose. Talking about how I really feel on Christmas morning…who the fuck does that?! I mean really…who does that, ever? Who talks about what really hurts and how we really feel?

Being alone on Christmas morning isn’t any different than being alone on Thursday or Sunday…but it is, isn’t it? It is different and somehow it hurts more, doesn’t it? That loveless marriage hurts a lot more this morning, doesn’t it? The person you loved with your whole heart, who passed away and left you here…you feel that a bit more today, don’t you? The divorce and the custody battle…it all hits home on days like this…all you’ve lost…all you miss and long for…somehow it hurts worse this morning, doesn’t it? Maybe it doesn’t for you…and I am so happy if you are in a different place than I am this morning. I was once in a different place than I am this morning. I will be in a better place again.

This Christmas morning I could not blog about what I do not feel. I do not feel joy. I do not feel like tinseling the town. I am not digging gifts out from hiding places with a smirk across my face. I’m not playing Santa and passing out gifts under our family tree. I…just I…sit here feeling like a fucking bomb went off in my life. I see all of the pieces scattered everywhere and they look and feel familiar to me…and yet this must be someone else’s ground zero. This must be someone else’s life. This cannot be happening to me.

I just had morning coffee with Tamara and I feel a bit more grounded. We cried together. We hurt together. We come together…in all of this pain…I thank God that Tamara and I always come together. Tamara is my rock and I am so thankful.

Tamara and I decided to begin a new tradition this year for Christmas. A tradition that embodies who we are and how we feel. We are going to be spending our day today being of service. Please join us if you wish! We would love to have you!

Jesus was born in a manger, to a virgin. There was no room for baby Jesus in the inn and so they prepared a place for him in the barn. The wisemen came and gifted him gold, frankincense and myrrh. The gold is a symbol of kingship on earth. The frankincense, an incense, a symbol of deity. The myrrh, am embalming oil, a symbol of death. The shepherds left their flocks and came to the manger. The North Star their only light. The animals gathered around baby Jesus and it was fucking serene and beautiful and holy. How did we get from that manger to the commercialization and exploitation…the exclusion and the alcoholism, the debt and the wars we are waging…all in the name of Christmas?! For fucks sake, where is baby Jesus?!

On your way to your Christmas church service, how many less fortunate people did you pass right by, without a second thought? If Jesus is the reason for the season, I suggest we start being Christlike. If you attribute all of this holiday hype to that baby in the manger, then where is your frankincense? Shoving a turkeys ass full of stuffing while shoving another cocktail down your fillet…excluding that annoying family member and talking shit about the people not sitting with you…failing to set a place for those gone but not forgotten…and tipping back another egg nog…did you think that maybe you might be missing the whole point of Christmas?

Anyway, that’s all I’ve got. This day…Tuesday…is a good day to go out there and be love. Don’t take Christ out of Christmas and wonder why we are as we are. We are here to be of service…to walk each other home. We are here to love. Merry Christmas! Maybe take a moment to think about what Christmas is and what Christmas is not to you this year? Don’t continue someone else’s tradition that doesn’t jive with your soul. Don’t honor a tradition that you know absolutely nothing about. We are here to love each other. Our new Christmas tradition is that…to be love…to be loved…to be together. And so it is.

If you’ve nowhere to be today…come be with us. Seriously, message me if you want to be with us today. We would love to have you! All of you…everyone is welcome!

If you’ve nowhere to be tomorrow, come home with us!

Good morning everyone! I woke up crying like I was fucking dying inside! Fuck! Groundhog Day lately and this girl is fucking tired. And so, I decided to write about how I’m feeling. Christmas Eve was always such a special day for our family. Christmas was always so special for our family. Christmas died in our family. At first, the death of Christmas registered pretty high on my pain scale. I was fucking devastated. At the cemetery weeping over my mother’s grave last week sometime, I realized that Christmas was down there in that box with her remains…dead and as gone as she is. It felt pretty dramatic and even I can admit that. Truth is; it wasn’t dramatic at all. Sherry was Christmas. Anyone who knew her for a quick minute knew that about her. Sherry was denied Christmas her whole childhood and she made up for it her entire adulthood. I was born into Christmas and all of its wonder in my childhood….Santa Claus and baby Jesus…the Christmas carols and the gifts…the Christmas cookies and Christmas tree and decorations. I had four decades of the most amazing Christmases you could possibly imagine and I thank my Mom for that. I still believe in Santa Claus and I still go down on my knees in reverence and love for baby Jesus. I went into enormous debt last year trying to do Christmas like Sherry did Christmas. I will never do that again. I may have filled some hearts but fuck was mine empty. My heart and my pocketbook…empty as a Monday morning church. (Thank you Alan Jackson). I learned that Sherry was Christmas in that cemetery. Coral is not Christmas. Coral is just Coral. I grieve. Fuck do I grieve during this time of year. This year through, as we begin new traditions, I am born again. I am born into my life. Please love me through this…I am so new at it. Who am I? How do I feel? What do I want? I am just beginning to figure all of that out.

Tamara and are beginning new traditions this year and I am excited. There is a tree in a box with a box of decorations next to it in our living room. Tamara made our tree out of a string of colored lights in our entry way and I fucking love it. We don’t have the time this year to deal with putting up and taking down a tree and so we don’t. We aren’t buying each other gifts, or anyone else for that matter, this year. We are simple and so we are keeping it simple. We are cooking for and breaking bread with and serving our homeless community this year and I couldn’t be more at home.

There is a certain and underlying sadness for the life and the Christmases I leave behind this morning. I feel a crack surge through my barely beating heart as I remember that my Mom is not going to be home for Christmas again this year. My mom and Christmas have left the building and I won’t lie…it fucking hurts me. I am crying as I write, for the woman I love and miss so fucking much. Jesus was the reason for my Moms season and my mom was the reason for my season and right now I just hurt. I am not without gratitude. I am not absent of my own reason for this season. This morning though, on the eve of my moms favorite holiday, three years later, fuck do I hurt!

I know many of you hurt too and that is why I write this morning. Not about jingle bells and sleigh rides…I write about empty sleighs and the sounds of silence. I write about my pain to let you know that I feel your pain. I know you lost your husband. I know that you lost your son. I know that you lost your mom. I know you lost your sister and your best friend on the same day. I am aware that this is your first Christmas trying to start over. I can’t help but notice that you are crying too. I know you lost your soulmate this year and that the divorce proceedings are taking place. I know you miss your kids and I know that you miss your Dad. I know you can’t have kids and I know that you feel that this time of year. I feel you feeling that and I love you. I know you have no one to celebrate Christmas with. I invite you to come be with us. Truly, if you’ve nowhere to be, come home with us. Private message me…comment here…reach out to me and I will reach back. You have somewhere to be…just like me. We are walking each other home and lots of people need us tomorrow, so come with us! Don’t be alone if you don’t want to, okay? I’m with clients today, so if I don’t answer, I will get back to you. I promise. I love you. We’ve got you.

In closing and reflection this morning, I want to acknowledge my best friend, my soulmate and my life partner, Tamara. I have loved before and I am thankful. I have been loved before and I am thankful. I am home now and I get it now. Tamara and I…ever the same and so different, believe and feel in the same ways about the things that matter most in this world to us. You matter. Every sentient being matters. All lives matter. No matter what is on our agenda today, We will fit it in, between our acts of service. Being of service is why we are here and always comes first. I am trying to make room for a few more client appointments in between our acts of service, to more comfortably pay our bills. Service work first. We are both working to shift this a bit and to put ourselves and each other on the list…on the top of the list, a lot more. Being home…being here…loving and being loved by Tamara…that’s Christmas to me.

I am here for you, you know? I mean to say that I am a real person. I will be here if you need me…if you say you need me. It may be a quick phone call. I may meet you for a hug…I will make a space for you if you ask me to. If you don’t ask, I have already placed you in my heart and will keep you safe and warm there as we get through this together, okay? I’ve got you. I love you. I’m praying for you. I feel you. I fucking love you!

We love you Zach! FUCK CANCER!

Good morning everyone! I would like to ask each of you to take a moment with me and to send Zach all of your love this morning! I am shaving my head every couple of days for Zach as he is battling cancer. I am shaving for several people right now and I ask that you also send each of them all of your love this morning. In loving memory of my Mom, I shave…every single time, for now until forever, to honor her memory and to remind each of us that we do run out of time to say and do things, so whatever it is…say it…do it. I shave for every single one of you who needs my strength, for whatever battle you are fighting. Cancer is one of the names for the battles we fight under different labels and under no label or diagnoses at all. For anyone who needs my strength, I shave my head every couple of days. For Zach, until he kicks cancers fucking ass, I will be shaving my head. For you, in solidarity, I shave my head. For you, across the dining room and you at the stoplight…you at the oncologist and you who just lost your breast…I shave for you. For you who lost your wife and you who lost your mom…the daughter without a dad and the mother without a son…the son without his father and the wife without her husband…for those waiting to find out and for those who know and cannot say so…for those who know and have no one to tell and for those who just give up…I love you. I shave my head for you.

This morning though, when I woke crying, I knew I had to make a different choice. I could fall into the grief of losing my mom to cancer or I could call Zach up in prayer and love and healing light, and ask each of you to do the same, as he battles, in his twenties what many will never fathom. FUCK CANCER. For Zach, please say a prayer this morning, that he know we’ve got him…that we are fighting for him and with him and that we fucking love him!

I love you Zach!

Zach, we love you! We fucking love you buddy! There are so many of us praying for you and loving you! We just want you to know that we are here and that we have you in our hearts. We are fighting with you. We are praying for you. We love you.