The key to fighting a Demon is to know what is real and what isn't. Then do your best to find your center in the midst of it all.

Contemplations from a transformational edge, recent and upcoming battles, and a quest to embody authenticity and care. How love is the key if you want to live outside the Matrix.

I am sitting on the stairs outside my casita this morning, at the top that leads to the currently empty and stunning room above, so Cruz, who is always cleaning and offering care for this property, will not sweep right next to me.

It is my last day here before I meet my taxi at 2:45 am tomorrow to fly to Colorado. I will attend the Telluride Mushroom Festival and then my beloved cousin will pick me up and host me for a week at his tranquil, Tarot-card filled, light blue oasis in Boulder.

And I started off this morning triggered.

There have been many triggers for me this week.

This led me to prayer and writing for guidance. I share these words as possibly they will resonate for you as well:

You desire to be met.

Of course first you must meet yourself my darling.

People can meet you in various ways and not necessarily all the ways you desire Dear One.

But that does not mean these places cannot be seen, felt, and met.

You are doing this.

You wish to attract different energies.

Feel your frustration and disappointment my darling.

It is ok to be frustrated and disappointed when things do not go as you wish.

The feelings are messengers.

Without them you would lose your discernment and discernment is quite key for you now is it not?

Discern what feels good and what doesn’t.

—a message from guided writing

I am going to tell you some things that challenge me and how and why I am prepping to fight some Demonic energy at 4 am tomorrow morning.

First, we must define Demons and Demonic Energy.

We can do that easily.

It is anything that is not love, felt as love, or founded in love.

Period.

Now let’s talk about United Airlines.

I know.

What?

Well, I am going many places as usual in an effort to shine light on things you, I imagine, are dealing with too, so we both can grow and unfold into the beautiful beings of light that we are.

Sometimes that involves dealing with Demonic frequencies and figuring out how to deal with them.

So, back to United Airlines.

I have to check in for my flight.

Before I attempted that this morning, I read an excellent article on Off Guardian which is also here on Substack: The Virus Tellenovella , by

Doug Glaass

. He talks about ways to use one’s discernment and how to teach that to children. He also linked to a now-deleted post about a doctor I used to follow that I found thought provoking.

I am not a fan of censorship. So if I know something has been censored, I am more interested in reading it and discerning why it has been deemed dangerous by those that want to be in charge of a different narrative.

So, this is where I was at, before my attempt to check in.

I always check in for flights ahead of time.

This time I hit a glitch. United wanted my contact tracing information.

Here is my mind’s response:

What? What is this?

Why would they need that?

Now, I have many reasons why I believe the information is desirable for the current government system, despite the lack of any so-called “Pandemic” at this moment. (And maybe there is one I missed? I quit reading the regular news during the last “Pandemic.” But that one, whether you read the news or not, couldn’t be missed. I had no sense a similar thing happening overtly in this moment.)

I know powers that be….the Demonic realm…want to groom me to comply with providing information to them “willingly” that is none of their business.

“Now, that’s not LOVE, is it?”

I did a little research on the form that was a glitch to my check in process. I have flown back to the US recently on a Columbian airline and don’t think I was asked to fill out a form like this. If I did, I missed it. But United had everything in easy-to-read English.

My research on-line told me that the information and form was “optional” and I had to check a box at the bottom consenting to it being shared with the US government.

So, I tried to check in through the app without filling it out. But, I couldn’t move forward without agreeing to it. So, then I tried to check in on-line. Again, I couldn’t get past the page with the “optional” form to finish my check in, which makes it less than “optional” in my view.

Since I was now angry and triggered by all of this, I called United to clarify how “optional” this was and if I could check in without it.

I made it clear to the person I was speaking to that my desire and frustration had nothing to do with her. I think this is quite important. Otherwise, I would be spewing negative energy at someone instead of simply using my frustration to empower me.

And that’s not LOVE now is it?

My plan now is to attempt to check in at the gate, early tomorrow morning, and see if I can do it without agreeing to contact tracing.

I will practice standing in my power during this process.

Me: “Hello, I am here and would like to check in.”

United Check-in Person: “Lovely Madam. Can you please fill out this form?”

Me: “No, thank you. I read it is optional and I prefer to check in without filling it out.”

Then…I’ll see. If I face a choice of flying or not, I will fill it out.

What matters to me most?

What matters is seeing my son in Telluride. What matters is if I can practice saying what I want, as clearly as I can, without spewing frustration and anger at the person in front of me.

And if I do fill out that form, I will hand it over with the energy it merits. I will look that form in the eye and say, energetically, “You don’t own me. I see you. And I am getting on my flight regardless.”

I also plan to retrieve my second passport next time I am in the vicinity of it.

Seems good to have it on hand.

I sat on my steps this morning after that, gazing at the leaves, the sparkling sea, a new wasp’s nest, and listening to the water tinkle next to me in the stream. I sat watching yellow butterflies flutter past. Lavender flowers sprinkled a so-called “invasive” plant I find quite beautiful.

And I talked to God.

“What is real?” I wondered.

“All is well” came to me…

Ok, God.

All is well.

My mother is in a skilled nursing facility. A little over 10 days ago, she broke her femur putting bird seed in her bird feeder. She was on the ground for a while calling for help while my father, who resists getting hearing aids, was nearby and couldn’t hear her distress.

She went through a surgery in a hospital, then to what my parents refer (slightly humorously and sadly…to me… as The SNIFF). SNIFF stands for a skilled nursing facility where they send people to recover from surgery and other things. It is a lot less expensive than the hospital. Medicare likes this.

At one point, my father informed me my mother’s hemoglobin levels had dropped and they were taking her back to the hospital for a blood transfusion. The SNIFF is not equipped for this.

My parent’s are unvaccinated, as am I.

I panicked.

My 88 year old father was surprised by my distress. He agreed my parents and I all would like Mom to have a transfusion from an unvaccinated person.

In my dear father’s world, he felt he or mom could simply let the hospital know that’s what they wanted, and then receive it. I mean, when you donate blood (as my 100 lb. mother does), they always ask for your vaccine status. He was sure there was some blood available all of us would like Mom to get.

I told Dad I didn’t think it was going to work like that.

Then I scrambled to find out Mom’s blood type (same as mine). I looked for a website I remembered hearing about where you could find the type of blood we desired, that came from an unvaccinated person. I texted friends I hadn’t seen in a few years who lived in California for help. I talked to a chemist who had moved to Florida from California to live more off-grid and escape some of what she saw happening there.

Meanwhile, I also asked my father what his blood type was.

He didn’t know.

Eventually he found the information. The three of us all are the same. They also had a like minded friend who offered to donate for Mom.

But in California, this is not how things roll.

In the process of making these calls, I attempted to contact her doctor and the doctor at the nursing home.

At one point, I had an on-call nurse who was empathetic.

I never once said anything about vaccines. I simply said the family preferred my dad donate what Mom needed.

But people know why.

Everyone knows why. They can feel it.

The nurse I could tell, was empathetic with our plight. She told me Mom had to sign a consent form. Mom could refuse to sign it.

Mom has been through a lot. Back and forth in an ambulance between the hospital and the SNIFF, dealing with some issues with depression, constipated from opioid painkillers… Mom was not set to battle any demons.

And asking her to do so…

Well, that’s not what LOVE is now, is it?

I got a man on the phone at the nursing home. I have no idea what position he held. In the context of our conversation around my desire to speak to a doctor there to see if he could help with our family wishes, I mentioned that my sister was a doctor as well and that she wasn’t concerned about this the way my parents and I were.

The man responded with two sentences:

“You should trust your sister.”

“You should trust the science.”

Now, this was a man, simply caught in the Matrix. But I was truly stunned by his words.

First, the words “should” and “need to” have been off-limits for me since Marshall Rosenberg and his non-violent communication classes and books taught me they are words that don’t come from the heart. They are words that don’t align with LOVE.

LOVE respects people and their choices.

LOVE doesn’t make assumptions and those two brief sentences had a lot of assumption in them.

The result of all this is my mother went to the hospital. Dad showed up and they wouldn’t take his blood. She signed the form. In the end she had two blood transfusions. Dad and I did our best to stand up to “THE SYSTEM” and when it felt like care to take a breath and Mom chose to just say yes, we honored that.

My mom is 82. Dad is 88. We are all going to die. What matters most is that my mom feels loved.

And. AND. When I go back in November to visit them, I will be looking into how we can put some blood aside for future instances that may arise like this. It doesn’t mean it will work and my friends sent me a few links to research.

I already planned to look into care facilities for the elderly here in Central America. I have written into my own will that I want my kids to find a place outside the country if I ever need ongoing care at some point in my life.

Friday, when I visited Dr. Luis in the city for a session of weight training, I asked him about this.

He didn’t know of a place in El Salvador.

But when I return from the US in a few weeks, I am going to go visit Guatemala with the developer of the property here where I rent what my friend referred to as my “living the dream” house. My landlord owns rental property in Guatemala as well. He and I are both interested in what might be available for elder care there. So we are going to go check things out a bit…for ourselves in the possible future and for our equally elderly parents.

“All is well”

Sometimes, it doesn’t seem like it.

But if in the end, love is all that is real, then my job is to discern what LOVE is. My job is to do my best to live it. My job is to be messy and know I can use my feelings as a compass.

The owner of this property said he likes to talk to people with different opinions. I mentioned some of these recent events to him. Yesterday he told me he was vaccinated and wondered if I ever had Covid?

It is an interesting question.

At one point, I got sick.

I feel it happened the moment I showed up at a hotel in Portugal and the owner behind the desk proudly spoke of the Covid injection she received just a few hours before.

I felt the energy of it. Somethings felt off... I know I wanted to keep my distance.

My PCR test, required at check in, was outdated and my son and I hoped she would not check it too closely. The day before we had stood in a long line in Lisbon, to get tested so we could be admitted to our hotel. We waited for hours in a line that had at least 50 people. It might have been 100. It moved slowly. I noticed grown men were coming out of the testing center sobbing. I wondered why?

My son and I reached the front of the line and I realized what was happening.

Those men were not crying because something disturbing had happened in their life. They were crying because those people were jamming that Q-tip in HARD.

I remembered one of those tests I took in the past…I think to be permitted to fly somewhere I wanted to go…had really hurt when they shoved that q-tip into the depths of sinuses I didn’t even know I had.

That is when all those compass emotions kicked in. Fear, repugnance, distress, irritation (we had been in the line for hours)…uncertainty (if the hotel would let us in with an outdated test). But, as we stood at the front of the line ready to finally go next, I told my son I didn’t want to take it.

And we left.

Those feelings are good as they are part of discernment.

They point out that THIS IS NOT WHAT LOVE IS.

And, “All is well…”

Sometimes, that is tough to see. It is hard to feel.

My landlord here has been quite kind to me.

I told him I felt I got sick in Portugal, with something. I mentioned it was interesting at that time that people all got “Covid” and no one got the flu.

He told me that was probably because people were wearing masks and keeping their distance from one another.

I didn’t say anything more.

How do you wake people up? How do you change them?

I think maybe you do it by fighting Demons. You see things, you discern, you respond as best you can. You CHOOSE. And you love the shit out of those people and you tell yourself they are doing their best.

“Father forgive them, they know not what they do.”

It is not easy when random people show up and poke at your wounded places (which Demonic energy will do, through unconscious humans you meet who have wounded places that want to dance with yours).

But it is what we are here for.

Jesus was full of love. And he said NO to things.

And Mary.

Somehow, those beings were pretty bad ass to be able to feel things, and through it all, hold the world with compassion.

I often wonder, what is real?

I wondered that this morning as I sat in my open eyed meditation. Everything I saw was so beautiful.

I thought, “Wow, it is hard to leave.”

Then, I realized, “No, it isn’t.”

I was sitting in a beautiful setting, like in a movie.

The setting will change to Telluride and the mountains there. I will spend time with my son at my favorite organic Mexican food restaurant eating cheese enchiladas for lunch and blue corn, blueberry pancakes with organic butter and maple syrup for breakfast while we watch people walk by on the street. We will hike to waterfalls and gather mushrooms. We will be in a parade.

The scene will shift to my cousin’s house in Boulder and walking to my favorite coffee and chocolate shops. It will shift to time with him.

And then back here again.

The world is a fluid Matrix that is much more than I can take in.

And the current phrases that God has for me are:

“All is well”

And “Let it be” (from my post last week).

I was hard on myself this past week.

I met some energy in an unconscious person and I thought I had done badly.

He sensed a wound in me.

The wound comes from a place where I feel I am not loved, or don’t deserve to be. A place that feels I am not good enough. That place is there, despite all I have done to love it into a different state. And that’s ok. That process is part of my journey here and it is worthwhile. But there is an unhealed wound. The man could smell it. Why is that, you may wonder? Well, I think it is because he knew it. He had the same wound and instead of feeling it, he wanted to vomit his self hatred and pain somewhere. When you are sick, it is normal to want to purge. In this case, I don’t feel it works well in the long run when it comes to healing painful places in our energy fields and it was his current coping strategy.

I struggle to remember names and learn Spanish. My struggle is connected to my pain-place I named a “Gruntie” last week in my post. This is a place that feels like I am not enough.

I imagine he had a similar place in himself.

When I saw him at my favorite restaurant, I recognized him and attempted to strike up a conversation. He does physical training with some people here and I wanted to learn more. I asked him to tell me his name again.

He asked me with a straight face, dead serious, if I was brain damaged? Maybe I had a concussion in the past like his ex-girlfriend? He told me his name was different from most and so, in his world, should be easy to remember.

I was dealing with an unconscious person and my friendly, favorite counter at the restaurant was suddenly a Demon Pit. I was in it, hungry; I felt unprepared.

I resorted to old coping strategies. I bantered. I joked. I apologized. At one point he asked if I wanted a bite of his meal or to enjoy another of his body parts?

Now, this is troubling. And later, I thought I messed up and was disappointed in myself. My Gruntie was speaking as that part of me had really felt it all.

Later, I took time to write and asked for guidance about the situation and my response. I was told that every challenging situation is a gift.

It is not about getting these interactions “right” or “wrong”. It is about experiencing them, learning from them, and growing my discernment. Then I can honor myself.

You are not wrong when things challenge you and you think you should have done something differently. You are feeling and growing through these experiences.

Judging yourself or your reactions is not what love is now, is it?

I will show up at United tomorrow morning, and see how it goes. I will see how I do. Maybe someone behind the counter will point out a place in me that needs some discovery and some care, by poking at it? Maybe it will go smoothly and I will feel how it is to speak what I want and be met? Or maybe I will try to do that and there will be frequencies that feel messy and the interaction with the human in front of me will feel hard.

Regardless, it is and will be a gift.

I can practice feeling my compass feelings. I can notice what care is, what power is, and what I would like to do similarly or differently in the future.

Next time I meet someone who pokes a painful place in me in order to feel theirs less, I hope to do what I practiced with my friend, Sandra.

In my practice with Sandra regarding the man at the counter who suggested I was brain damaged, I see what it feels like to respond calmly, “I am going to go find a table.” And I find another place to sit.

And it felt good to say that. It was simple and clean.

You don’t want to interact with Demonic energy nor is it good to entangle oneself in it. It is good to step away if you can.

And if you find a painful place in you that reacts to someone who triggers it because they have it too…and they decide to stab your pain spot so they get a sense of power and want to ignore the place in themselves that hurts?

You start to learn to see it.

You learn from going through experiences where it happens and getting curious.

You hold yourself and the experience up to the light and ask yourself: “Is this love, or isn’t it?”

Then you act accordingly.

First, by loving yourself regardless.

Because that’s what love does, isn’t it?

Then you grow.

Moment by moment, step by step.

“Let it be”

“All is well”

(here is a view from my porch of new prayer flags billowing in the wind)

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Butterfly signing off… I am writing to you early this week as I want to be present for my son and my experiences with him. I want to give myself space and time, with no pressure or hurry. I want to allow the carpet of life to unfold and continue to learn how to spar with Demons and feel the divine beauty of this whole experience.

It is a process.

(And an update: I checked in at the airport with United. No one asked for contact tracing information. It was so easy.)