Vanessa Wishstar

“You’re Normal”Understanding We’re All of It.  Let me back up a bit. I had a professional tell me the reason why I couldn’t see close up all of sudden he confidently assured me it wasn’t because of my past trauma or a ‘stock market crash’ even though the trauma and eyesight loss coincidently happened to both my husband and I. He said, “it’s because this is what the body does when it ages.” “This is normal.”  Those three words, ‘this…

Spiritual Dilation I can’t see. Not the words at least that I’m typing, as if my eyeballs were just smudged. I did that too, using my sage wand, noticing how big I am. My arms can’t even reach the diameter of my energy field. Happy to know I’m available for my greater needs.  Earlier I sat there in a waiting room of old people, “I’ve got to be able to calm myself down from these blurry peripheral walls closing in”,…

Without this contrast I don’t know if I’d know me this intimately.  If I were rich, I’d be depressed. The kind of depression that gives you full attention to your depression. No longer scratching the couch cushions, knees on the hard floor praying to Jesus this billionth time for help like a runaway Catholic girl. All my same problems would be there, that money can’t remove. And if I were rich it would give me more time, more attention, to my…

This I’ve learned… I’ve learned how to worship the sun because of the soggy arctic jungle of the Alaskan wilderness, contrast from the vitamin d enriched blazing fire of 9000 feet, lighting the mountains of Colorado.  I’ve learned how to bathe in the moonlight while it rises from the eastern seaside as the waters warm my chilled hairless coat of tanned leather. It took everything from me to get here.  I’ve learned how to dance in the rain even when…

Sowing my seed A traveling seed, searching for fertile lands in the sharp frozen months of January. A moons wait, up and down shifting my waters, affecting the moods of the material.  My source is my own homecoming. Picked up and carried against all nonconformity, through the dry cracked open lands, cut on the husks of once manifested miracles. I am no longer in Kansas searching for mountains.  Reaching down past the icy shards that encrust the earth, no tools…