Fuck Baby Boomer Money
*Excerpts from my (upcoming) book: The Mountain Moved MeAuthor: Vanessa Wishstar “Fuck baby boomer money.” There, I said it. I’ve found the corroded pot of gold, the drawknife that strips the dollar bill bark down to dust, baring the forest of a system in shame, imbalance, inequality and separation. Sure, money issues go back farther than Boomers, but holy hell it’s been doomsday since the dollar had a mouthful of opinions thinking one can give financial advice just because they…
Psychic Queer
Hi my name is Vanessa Wishstar and I’m a Psychic Queer. Let this not overshadow the real platform for ‘Queer Psychics’ or any LGBTQ+ identifying folks, as I have no intention of overshadowing the much needed spotlight in support, progression of our evolutionary beliefs and unconditional love. I’m just the gal in the witch’s hat in the back, cheerleading with identifying support. Here’s the thing, my ‘identity’ (not related to gender) carries a parallel story with those who’ve been enslaved…
“You’re Normal”
“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
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.
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…
Surviving the Alaskan Way
Vanessa is a mystic woman who discovered through a natural disaster, living in extremes offers the ability to be able to appreciate it all. The noise, the silence, the conveniences, the doing without, the access, the remoteness, the community, the independence. All of it gets the best of her attention and is wildly accepted. She is now free. Surviving the Alaskan Way The high prices of living in remote Alaska is beyond means, of what it means, to live. The…
Psychic Life Series – Offerings of Animals
Psychic Life SeriesThe Offerings of Animals Animals come into our lives for communication beyond words. Same goes with us in their lives many times for validation, 2 legged presence, and understanding. We benefit from each other’s offerings when we’re balanced. But what does it mean when the animal hurts us, or is dead? Are we doomed? Do we have bad luck or does the animal? Is something wrong here? The answer is no! Even when the animal’s life is in…
This I’ve learned…
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
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…