Journal entry outside my book.

It’s 12:03 in the afternoon as I sit down on the sunny deck. I had kicked my son out here earlier in frustration. He was overloading my tiny room with toys and was starting to yell at his sister who had simply wanted to sit in mom’s room with him too. He is 3 and can’t seem to grasp the concept of space outside you go little man.

Orion, creating his rescue scene, for the second time this morning.

By request, I made pancakes. Two different flavors. Cooking such a staple meal for us in a host house had me feeling bittersweet. I missed the ease of my old kitchen, one I custom tailored to my habits. At the same time I was excited for the challenge of an ever changing assortment of cooking options and ingredients, limitations and abundances. Future creative problem solving with serendipitous surprises! Even something as simple as banana and blueberry pancakes can be a quest for this plant based, conscious minded, ever expanding, overthinking mom.

It’s 12:23. I want to go for a walk. By myself. Ego says to shift my reality and flip that repetitive script in my head . . but the authenticity says no. I DO ache for solitude. Some clarity in my own, uninterrupted frequency. I realize that travel won’t guarantee or even get me that, but the shift out of my norm and trust into change gives me clarity, energy, inspiration and sparks my creativity.

I’m all over the place.. nope! I’m multitasking. Arranging many things, healings, events… manifestations. Just this morning alone I’ve gone through two meditations, two telepathic connections, two meals, two kid’s needs, my own, another soul who reached out, a buy and sale transaction and some energy dancing on the deck under the morning sun with music. I reflect in continued effort to remove false paradigms placed on me by another’s unhealed wounds. It’s 12:34 and I am reminded I’m the hardest on myself.

So I sip my coffee, spark a joint and sit in gratitude and silence. Somehow both kids have found something to occupy themselves with.

The unmatched socks are a tribute to my daughter’s resistance to the old energy. The journal entry written on a device (and immediately published, pushing my comfort zone) is due to my practice luggage packing yesterday. I can not continue to journal everything on paper and expect to travel carrying it all too. Besides, in this nomadic and digital reality, this is what I set out to do. Share a story by sharing my heart. No filters, no expectations. Just a soul, navigating a master planned journey that I perceive through this linear duality seeing avatar. La la laaaaaa

Evi Paris

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