If there were but a thing called time, I’d stretch it out like a long rope; I’d thread it through all my past lives, watch all my human drama on display, me, me, in many different forms.

I lie in bed, unwell, unable to move my body or head. Paralysed, dependent, like a newborn, or the very old. My husband hovers. I feel sorry for him; a wife that’s become a sack of wheat.

How I came to suffering blindly, choking, lungs filled with dirt—red hair, red dress, and shoes, skin the colour of thick cream, she stamps her tiny feet up on the mound that will be my grave, and the earth shudders.

What if I told you you didn’t truly love me, but her. The one who visits when you sleep, wrapping you in her blue arms, telling you she is the anima; the soulstar lover—the one whose light mirrors yours without reflection.

I have a new love. Feng Shui. And I have a new mentor. Her name is Grace Niu. She’s a Feng Shui consultant, intuitive, and graduate of School of the Modern Mystic®. I met Grace in-person years ago at an event I gave in Melbourne.

Love—the centrepiece, the missing piece of our life puzzle; bright, beautiful star, in pieces …

If fire is my destiny, and we’re to dance for life, how do I grasp the passion end of the straw, and leave pain hanging?

In the tradition of women in my heritage, I did all I could to hide—Red hair dyed black, green eyes dulled, mouth pursed, cheeks pinched, balled fists turning to bruise.

Stretch your face towards the wind, and feel it making love to your face, lips, cheeks, chin—

Life has served me some severe blows in the last two years. I’ve experienced deep loss and pain, that at times, makes me feel like I don’t want to take another…

Yesterday I gave an impromptu Facebook Live.It was in response to something I posted a few days ago, where I talked about living with a neurological condition, and the trauma of being in and out of emergency last year with massive migraines, seizures, and vertigo attacks.

I’m sure you’ve had the experience. You’re talking to someone and suddenly you feel strange. It doesn’t happen right away—somewhere about 15 - 20 minutes into the conversation. An odd spacey feeling creeps over you. The person keeps talking. You’re listening, nodding, agreeing. All the while, the odd feeling grows. You’re feeling more and more drained. Flat, too.