I’m working on being brave, I’m working on changing my story, I’m working on ending Adventures of the Vay jay Brigade and starting another story, the one of VUJADE…the angst doesn’t feel right anymore, I don’t feel like writing anymore…I’m not fueled by it but then it’s nothing I want to share, any response to my angst is too…whatever. I need to change my story, I need to be seen…I’m going to start posting my words on my Facebook page.

This is what I posted:

This morning I read something that stuck with me, it stated that a genius is a person who is one step ahead of others; two steps ahead and you are considered a lunatic…sometimes when I tell others my story, my experiences, what I make up about things, and the adventure of self discovery over the past few years, I feel like a lunatic.

The journey continues, and once again I’m packing up my little Jett, once again I’m wondering why I keep the stuff I don’t use.

Like the retractable clothes line I bought in Celeste, a place I didn’t even consider traveling to yet once I got there I just knew it was where I was supposed to be, I knew I had arrived. It was as if the universe came in total alignment and handed me this perfect space to start all the ideas I’ve had since I’ve been on this planet. Not my forever place, just a place to begin a lifelong dream.

As soon as I looked out my bedroom window, I saw an abandoned piece of earth that was once used for breeding dogs. It was going to be the first of many designer chicken communities; an idea I started planning when I was in Indiana. There were 7 old porcelain bathtubs and enough plumbing, pipes, wood, and 10 acres of hipcamp sites to create the bathshacks I’d been planning for the past couple years.

I stayed longer than I should have because I made a 6 week promise to the farmer (I really try to be impeccable with my words) but decided to leave after driving my German coworker to the Dallas bus station. I think she only stayed a little over a week and was on her way to California to find a better experience of the US. I’ve decided that we will meet up again, I just know that someday I’ll need an extroverted entertainer who will translate German for me. We started creating a story together, she is the Thelma to my Louise, only our story will have a happy ending…she ended her US journey early and went back to the UK to tell the stories of her adventures which will include the multiple experiences of American men being pigs…welcome to my planet; if I wanted to prostitute myself I’d have it all in the “real” world. Our experiences are different but the stories attest to how many men view women as lesser beings. I’m working on changing this story around.

Another farm, another dream and I’m busy making end of life plans; the first half century didn’t go so well and I’m working on a plan to make the next century a better one for me…my own way, a way that disregards reason and logic, one that doesn’t have a plan but one that feels good for me…what’s the use of being a feeling being if it doesn’t feel good?

Once again I’m packing, leaving another farm, pursuing another dream… Why do I keep the things I do? Why am I packing this clothesline? What’s the purpose of having 10 pairs of shoes?

Why am I leaving this newfound paradise? Another story… but I can tell you that the past few months I’ve fallen in love with the farm, the vision, and everyone here. I knew I had arrived when I found out they were looking for a Fairy Godmother, May had the vision of a bathshack that I was able to help her create and the Garden Goddess, Jess, is busy creating a life size, barefoot friendly, Fairy Garden, I know we will collaborate again. Even if I never have a conversation with Amber again, I promised I would send her a text every year or so, “the ho’s are laughing”, and we will both laugh…

My only regret (Yes, I give myself permission to have at least one) is that there isn’t another to share the stories or create another dream with. What next?

Whatever, wherever it is, I will always disregard reason and logic…maybe I could just say, “I’m doing it the Tanglefoot way” …could that become a meme?


What next?




AltschmerzThis poster I made came up as a memory from last year on Facebook. I’ve been trying to figure out how to let my 3 year old “come out” I decided to share this poster along with this:

The past few days I’ve been trying to identify feelings that keep appearing and after seeing this post from last year, I realized this is part of it. One year ago I think I was still going out to the backyard to dig up some more pain. I realize now that all my life as a Sensitive, I’ve seen, felt, and heard things other didn’t. I realize the undercurrent of anger I carried around with me since my earliest memories was partly because my perception of the world is different than around 99% of others.

The past few weeks my thoughts keep going back to an incident when I was around 3; I was angry and didn’t want to wake up. It must have been around that time I realized this wasn’t the planet I signed up for, I think at that time I started realizing the incongruencies that I can best define as seeing breaks between what is spoken and what actually appears.

It’s been a few years of learning what the anger was, how it affects my life, and how feeling alienated in many of my views are only because most people will never understand my depth of perception…this can become wearisome.

The pain has dissipated, the memories are only thoughts. I’ve made a conscious decision to start seeing a world I want to live in and not be to be pulled into the drama and fear of what the powers that be are telling me is reality. Good things happen every day, yet we only hear about the “newsworthy” …who defines what is worth repeating?

This summer, I’ll be on Pennsylvania on another assignment; still building my resume, doing work I love that will include planting a hill with wildflowers to attract pollinators and helping to restore a spring fed pond…. Although I’ve always thought I was here to save the world, I now realize I’m only one small, insignificant human who has always been told by society that I care “too” much…how can anyone not care enough to realize the system they are holding on to is the very system that is destroying the planet; using the media to instill fear; and dictating what you are allowed to consume?

I’ve always seen the fractures that needed to be fixed and realize now I’ll never be the superhero I thought I was. If the only thing I can do today is help save one insect that is instrumental in keeping this planet green I’ll have to accept that I did my part for the day…and I will keep believing that there is at least one other person on this planet that wants to help me create a story worth repeating….the past is just a faint memory, my work now is to search for loftier things in life.



Today I had a vision of a balloon…

What is the link? What is the purpose?

Today I decided to become that pink balloon. In my mind, it was attached to a string, a nondescript, plain old string, made out of multiple threads twisted into multiple cords…hanging, floating, feeling.

Although I’ve been feeling deflated the past few days the balloon was full, shining, floating, searching for a place to land. The balloon was full of whatever is holding it up while randomly floating, guided by the wind, searching for a human that can see the magic in that whatever; another being to hold on to that string and help guide it, allow it to rest, and become refueled.

Maybe today all I need; want; desire in my life is an anchor; or it could be an electrical plug; maybe a shower head…still searching for direction; still searching for an outlet to release the whatever that has been building up inside my heart for what feels like an eternity; what feels like lifetimes of watching this planet spin in a linear fashion; watching the disconnections and breaks no one else sees while staying silent…Why? Why is there no other being that wants to take that string and help me attach an outlet for that magic to start flowing? What is IT?

What would that flow look like in the real world? In a world of so many possibilities, how can one human decide? All I’m searching for is another being to share the pleasure, play, and fun I seek…where is, what is the adapter that helps me realize how to release whatever that magical stuff is inside that keeps me floating? What is IT that’s been stuck inside for what feels like an eternity?

Just another day of pushing myself, building, doing, dreaming…

Grateful for the bathshack I helped create, grateful for the opportunity to work on projects on the farm…how is this life sustainable for me when there isn’t a feeling of a safe landing; when there isn’t an outlet to release or share these feelings; thoughts; desires?

The thought of creating a safe place for my grandchildren is feeling kind of overwhelming today…

I don’t KNOW

My journal has become many pages of random crap. I think I finally have a venue to start practicing some magic. Where do I start?

Camping and BnB rooms on this beautiful farm, guided tours, cooking using at least 50 % of the food from the farm…barefoot hikes in the moonlight, what would I call the modality? Anti-analysis?

What would happen if I started purposely mispronouncing words? Anti-anal-eesis…how many people would judge this as me being an idiot? How many would just accept that I haven’t mastered the English language yet?

 …ast night Brooklyn didn’t remember a conversation I know we had the previous weekend. We decided I was having Dejavu and he was having vujade…I sent him an e mail the day before I went for my 3 days away from the matrix, it’s becoming a thing and he is creating SPACE FOR ME. His home feels like a dream, his presence is calm. He is one of the most intelligent men I know and doesn’t have the need to always be right. He’s my first Brooklyn Jew, he teases me about being from The Burg…I so don’t even relate to that HUMAN anymore…not who I AM but who I ALLOWed others to tell me I AM. I’ve decided that for today I will live in a state of VUJADE – November 2015

What is the message in this? Why did this paragraph come up when I was editing a post on Facebook? I don’t remember ever copying this…or maybe I did. Maybe signs and syncronicities are happening right before my eyes, what is IT?

Last year I thought I was sure about Brooklyn, everything felt so right. Why don’t I feel grounded? Why am I here if there is no one to process this life with? What is the use of feeling so disconnected with the reality of others? Where are the humans…human…man? I don’t know anymore, there has always been someone out there beyond my range. Waiting for someone willing to share the experience, someone who will feel the world with me.

I try to not focus on Brooklyn and I’m having a hard time comprehending what happened between us today. Why did something that felt so complete for me not be the experience he wanted? Maybe he couldn’t accept who he became after the honeymoon stage…why didn’t he want to stay on the ride? Why couldn’t he see the magic in me? I realize there is someone out there with more qualifications than him but where? I’m ready to get off this ride if I must do it alone.

It’s been almost a year that I gave him a handwritten page telling him it’s the ending to a chapter of my story. I don’t even know the date that I wrote the letter to him…the words elude me now but I do remember the beginning of it; I wrote that I went out the night before and watched a couple dancing, playing with each others energy, having fun…and that wasn’t us anymore…he just stopped trying.

Dear GOD,

Do you remember me? Do you remember the agreement? I would become Lila, I would surrender and become the person I was meant to be, my birthright, my name; Lila – playground to the Gods.

What do I need to do? What else is there left in this world if whatever I do, whoever I AM has no value? What is the use of being here if there is no one to share the ecstasy, the passion, the creation with? Why am I here if there is no God to play with?

What’s the use if there is no one to share it with?

What is the purpose of feeling these intense desires if there is no one in the physical world to experience them with?

How do you expect me to continue this journey if the energy isn’t there? Where is the fair exchange for me?

Sending LOVE,


Tonight I guess I’m just frustrated that there is no where to disperse this energy, this passion, this dream…it appears that most women my age have completed this phase. The bodies of many women my age have stopped the flow…I haven’t even had woman parts for over 30 years and yet at times I still feel like a 15-year-old hormonal driven boy.

This energy isn’t meant for everyone to share. Tonight I feel like a caged animal…one more night of feeling ungrounded and alone, who is the crazy one? Where is the creative energy, the partner, the grounding energy I seek?


It is no measure of health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society~Krishnamurti

The Load

This morning I woke up to a song…what was it again? Maybe it was from The Band…for the last few hours the only words in my head are from the chorus from The Weight.

The wake-up words were about a boy who’s mother left when he was young; of course, my mind goes back to Brooklyn. The past few days thoughts about him are empty, the connection with him has become a distant memory, almost like it never existed in the first place.

Today marks four days on the farm, so far, it’s been great, hopefully this morning we will sit down and discuss a plan. My job has been to deep clean; my choice as they don’t expect me to do anything specific, I’m kind of on my own and finding my own value here. I decided I will keep cleaning and figure out a rhythm, figure out rules, regulations, and safety guidelines to suggest we start implementing. Hopefully today I will have the official title of, Fairy Godmother.

I do want to be a part of this experience, but I really don’t feel like I have a lot to offer other than building some parameters and structures. For some reason my creative process feels like it’s been castrated and although my old ideas could be implemented here I don’t feel it happening yet. Yesterday I finally came up with a couple creative ideas and I realized this is Alice’s place, she is the First Mate managing this ship and has great visions and dreams, I’m just one of her arms. I’m happy she liked my idea about her junk yard; The Captain seemed amused when I told him I had been shopping at Alice’s…Alice appears to like my idea about a picture for the blog we will be putting together and the name, “Shopping at Alice’s”…although one idea isn’t doable, she elaborated on another and took it way beyond what I imagined, I think she likes the contrast.

The other evening I heard Captain Cook say to her, “it’s like a well-oiled machine”, not perfectly but it is getting there and she has been working hard. It’s taken a couple days to figure this out but I think part of the emptiness I’m feeling right now is the not knowing and still feeling ungrounded. For today this is a positive step working towards the dream…

Take a load off, Fanny

Take a load for free

Take a load off, Fanny

And put the load right on me…

Why are those words stuck in my head? What was the song and the words that woke me up this morning?



Dear Brooklyn,

I’m afraid…I had no idea where I would be a few weeks ago. My original plan was to go to Florida and work at a B&B because I know I need the experience. What I really want is a place of my own. I know it will never happen because I don’t have an education. I know how different I am in this world. I’m an altruistic chameleon who only wants to help people heal, pretty big job for someone as insignificant as me…. I didn’t send it.

This morning I’m sitting in my bed, not wanting to get out. It’s chilly and raining on the farm…I’m contemplating my escape. Tomorrow evening I’ll be in Florida 5 Miles to White Sand! Safe and Cozy, but is it really? The woman appeared nice. I asked if the private room had a bathtub, her affirmative reply was that she even had bath salts if I needed them.  Hopefully my vision of the next place I land on the 8th will be more fruitful.

Just a few weeks ago…I don’t even remember how long it’s been, but it feels like an eternity…in my mind, I’ve been building castles. Taking my ideas and placing a page on each plot of abandoned land on this farm. 175 acres that have been organically farmed for over 30 years; outside my window is almost a quarter acre with structures just waiting to be updated and landscaped to be a chicken community…when I first arrived he bitched because no one would pay $10, with my design people will pay $20 a dozen just to see my creation…but then that would include a small community of people to help create it, I am only one human.

He told me that growing food doesn’t pay the bills because organic growers are not subsidized; yet his focus is getting the farm store open to sell food.

All I see here is an experience. Before I came here I was told of grand plans; firepits for the campers and RVer’s. Since I came here I’ve seen at least 7 unused porcelain bathtubs, I told him about my bath shack idea but of course it falls on deaf ears. The other day I found an abandoned playhouse in the vacant field beyond the lake; perfect place to have a zip line and an obstacle course. Then there’s the fairy garden, selling magic dust, and Magic Moon & Star seeds. What about the tiny house above the sheep stable in the middle of the field? What about the porch he told me that he wanted to look like Martha Stewart was there? What, WHAT, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?

My time here has been cleaning house after house of dirt, filth and debris, seeing the excess of crap that once had value; the gluttony, the give a shit attitude for what you have and complaining because you don’t have. I’m tired of dealing with the constant conflict of values and beliefs people have. I’m tired of living in the boxes of everyone else. If I’m supposed to survive on this planet, I want my own. Right here, right now! After almost 6 year of traveling, Arizona was the only place that felt like home…at least at one time it did, all I’m asking for energy similar to Brooklyn’s energy to show up in my life.

My last act of dealing with the farmers shit was taking my beautiful new friend to the Dallas bus station an hour away. Some of her last words to him was calling him a twat. Too much drama to even try to process let alone try to write about…the past few weeks have been exhausting, even writing 4 letters asking for help has fell on deaf ears. Maybe this journey will end somewhere on the interstate between Celeste and Gulf Breeze…or maybe someplace offshore while floating in the Gulf of Mexico; maybe I’ll get eaten by sharks, please don’t let it hurt. There are no more signs and there is no end in sight.

Tomorrow evening I hope to be soaking in a tub of bath salts after my 10 hour drive; then I’ll sit outside under a hopefully starlight night…what more could a girl ask for?


All my life I’ve felt this pull for a greater life in my heart…I question it every day and have felt so lost in this fantasy. Who is my tribe? Where is my support? Am I destined to do whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing alone?

Life on the farm has been a roller-coaster of reeling the farmer in, trying to focus on one thing, cleaning his mess, trying to get a handle of what his vision is, deflecting his advances. After 30 years, you would think he would have a plan…

Reinforcement has come in the way of a woman a few years younger than me. She is German and prior to arriving in the states she had been living in the UK. I haven’t found out why she is here but her vision was to be in California on the beach…she found a Texas Longhorn hat in a charity shop and then was contacted by the farmer after she arrived in the states. She is also searching for signs and synchronicities so she thought she should take a chance and spend a few weeks on the farm. So far we are getting along, I even offered to share my room with her so she could get out of the living room and off the couch. Who knows, if we’re still getting along in a few more weeks we may go to Florida together and then head west before February.

Every day I’ve been here with the farmer he’s been bouncing from one idea, dream, and scheme with no structure, and he has been resistant and argumentative over my ideas or plans. I’ve told him many times that this cleaning was a waste of my talents…every day I have to deflect his sexual advances…this is my third work experience with a single farmer on the farm and I think each one has expected sexual favors from me…I guess I could own the world if I would give in. After a lifetime of allowing the slime to distract and upset me, I guess I don’t care anymore. I also need to work on not accepting that sleeping with a man is the only way for people like me to get ahead and be self sustaining in this world; not that I would, but it can be frustrating feeling so vulnerable and expecting to do whatever IT is alone.

Having another female in the house is comforting even though she has been privy to his plans and have felt excluded…but then she periodically tells me that he lets her know what ideas I’ve shared with him. Maybe he is listening, but I still feel like the cleaning lady and cook. My new friend has also told me that after her first day she was confused, she thought we argued like an old married couple; I think I finally stopped it.

Two days ago he came out on the porch as I was feeding the cats, got in my face a little and told me how good breakfast was…then added, “too bad you don’t fuck”. I don’t remember my response but about a half hour later, there was a discussion between the three of us and my roomie said something about us sounding like a couple, my response, “yea but I will never fuck him”, then I left the room reminding him that I do what I’m told, I cook and clean, that’s what I’m here for. Maybe this is how men will always see me, I wish there was a man in my life to act as a barrier for this energy. I’m tired of deflecting it alone.

After a long barefoot walk collecting pumpkins and sage, trying to sort out why this keeps happening, we had a chance to sit on the porch and talk and I asked him if he could look at me as a sister…things have been easier since then.

This morning he told me of an idea to have someone invest in the house and store that are both empty…he would require money down for repairs and a few upgrades and split the profits…who knows it may be doable for me. I’ve already started a search for a place that is actually a functioning B&B in a warmer climate because whatever I do, I will need more experience. Cleaning and cooking here isn’t giving me the experience I was hoping for.

I’m kind of sad that I haven’t heard back from Brooklyn, I’m also sad that I haven’t gotten a response from someone I felt could help direct me to someone interested in starting a boarding school for HSPs…I’m kind of sad that at this time last year I had someone to laugh with, make plans, and share dreams with…what is the purpose of starting anything if there is no one to share the creative process with? Who wants to play?