A Look Back

WP Snow_Pecos.jpg[Photo Credit: Sandi Martinez]

Wind stops

snow flakes sparkle

seconds pass

spurs on mind’s chaos

winter coats the ground

a crunch underfoot

soon sprouts of green

will grow

just as my thoughts turn to snow

A look back

no better than before

better to know

nowhere to go

but back around

to solid, wet ground

back around to a past

come back around

the cold blows

my mind

knows

time

to

go

by Sandi Martinez

A New Tradition

I’d like to start first, by wishing you all a wonderful Christmas, and an even better and prosperous new year. As I say goodbye to 2016, I’m forced to look back at things I could have done better. At the risk of being a bit hard on myself, I might go as far to say, I know better. Many of you have seen me lately at my worst, with the two dogs that I took upon myself, to find homes for. First, I’d like to thank my nephew Lee, for caring for Ginger at a time I could no longer keep her in my apartment.  As of this moment, Ginger is now being fostered in Abiquiu, NM, by a lovely woman named, Janine, who was working with Donna Leshne from Dew Paws Rescue in Santa Fe, NM.

What started this mess, was the way the situation was mishandled by family members I would have never expected. I see it as throwing Ginger, and Lovey away – they see it as ‘we can’t take care of them anymore’. I know things happen, and life moves us in different directions, and that life in fact, is unpredictable. This however was not the case with Ginger, and Lovey. And so I am stuck with own inability to forgive and move forward. I’m stuck in this strange place of seeing my own pain, disappointments, and betrayals, and am forced to look deep into the chaos. As I do this, I don’t want to open up at the moment. I don’t feel like spending Christmas with family. Lovey, pictured at the left, is still with me and my other two fur-babies, Benji and Azra (pictured at the right).

Part of the magic this time of year, is to extend oneself and offer gifts of friendship, love, support, and kindness, that we normally forget to do during the rest of the year. I  see this as a new opportunity to grow and do something different.

And so, on behalf of Ana Maria, and Marissa Sol Martinez, my two nieces who live in Denver, CO, thank you for giving $40, in presents to Josiah, age 11, and his sister, Shyrae, 7, during this difficult time. Their mother had 3 strokes and almost lost her life. She had to learn to talk again. Her mother Anita moved in to assist her and then on December 10, Anita suffered an aneurism. She went into surgery shortly after to drain fluid from her brain. Anita suffered two massive strokes and was put on life support. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it. Due to the financial hardship the family is now experiencing, Josiah, and Shyrae, were not going to have a Christmas. No presents under the tree. But now, they will – thank you Ana, and Marissa!

I will be spending Christmas not with my family, but rather allowing myself to be a conduit for God’s purpose. I will stop here for now, as I prepare to give out $5 gift cards from McDonald’s, to anyone who appears to need it. This could happen on a  street, at a bus stop, at folks sitting on street corners, or???…

And so I do hope that in this state I’m in – the only thing that can come of it, is good. Not the expression of anger, pain, or disappointment that is useless during times like these. And so I go forth now to take care of myself, and those people who are in need.

Many blessings folks, and give the gift that keeps on giving – generosity.

Sandi

The Forgotten Sacred

In the midst of despair at the end of the day, or even the beginning, do we express gratitude... (Image: Sandi)

In the midst of despair at the end of the day, or even the beginning, do we express gratitude… (Image: Sandi)

In this fast-moving, chaotic world we inhabit, have we forgotten the simple things? When we are exhausted from a hard day’s work, when we feel perhaps bombarded with burdensome tasks, and even failure, what do we reach out to for spiritual sustenance?

In the glass of wine we hold in our hands, or even a ‘stiff’ drink, do we hold it up in thanks to the source? (Higher power, God, Creator) Or do we wallow, or even drown in the liquid? In the midst of despair at the end of the day, or even the beginning, do we express gratitude, for having another day to try, and try again, even if it looks and feels like failure?

When we sit on our back porch, a park bench, or the curb of a sidewalk, do we revel in the breeze that carries the oxygen we breathe and need to survive? (Smog and all?)

Do we notice the lizards, bugs, ants, spiders, and all creepy-crawly things around us, and remember that they too have a right to live?

Every morning, the first thing I do when I rise, is offer up my glass of water to my source, and give thanks for another day – I sip from the cup – water of life; and despite the nightmares I may have suffered, or a bad night’s sleep, I can’t help but wonder what the day ahead brings, and all the other good things that might meet me around the corner.

What about you? What is your sacred? What do you give thanks for? Will you?

Life is sacred…

Pain and Grace

Unexpected beauty in the midst of hellish musings. (Image: Sandi's)

Unexpected beauty in the midst of hellish musings. (Image: Sandi’s)

There is no way I can honestly get away from the truth; it seems all kinds of cool things have been happening on my walks at work. Today, I was honored by this Monarch’s presence. During my walk, I had played a video about a vet who had filmed his heartbreak over the death of a kitten, on Facebook. Now, I’m not a Facebooker… Never have been, and never will be, but truly, I relish these kinds of posts. To see the vet, click Abused Kitten Passes Away.

There are subtitles for those who don’t understand the language he speaks. I was fuming by the time I rounded the corner of the parking lot near my office. But seconds later, I saw the butterfly. I wondered, WTF? Then I flashed back to his anguish – the vet – and thought, this man is so incredibly brave to express his devastation. He admits he’s no saint, but how can anyone who calls themselves human, do such a horrific thing?

This brings me to a few things I am grateful for: One, I thank God for people like the vet; everyday, they see horrors we could never imagine, and yet, also experience amazing miracles. Two, I thank God there are caring humans out there; they are the ones who take in stray cats, dogs, find homes for our larger animal friends, like horses, goats, etc… There are people like me who give free psychic readings to those who donate over $20 to animal rescue orgs, and so many amazing animal rescue organizations all over the world. And finally, to our faith, trust, and balls in forging forward in a world that is filled with evil and yet gets stomped out by the light every time.

The butterfly is quite an amazing creature (I say this with love). There are so many facets to the their beauty, I won’t spend too much time naming them. One thing remains clear: There is grace to be found in the ugliness of this world, and pain unmasked by simplicity, love, and cajones… BIG ONES.

Death’s Greatest Gift; FREEDOM

A walk in the cemetery (Image: by Kimtastic)

A walk in the cemetery with a friend (Santa Fe National Cemetery: Santa Fe, NM)

Happy Independence Day everyone! Odd way to start out this entry – death? Freedom? The reality is, there are no fireworks with death. Unless of course there is unexpected death by stray sparks in a busy park… but no need to get morbid.

What I’d like to say is that there is death all around us in every form; in every way, every day. The leaves that fall off trees, allow for new growth to occur on those branches. The weeds we pull from our gardens, free up space for our vegetables and flowers to grow even more fully and beautifully. Once something is gone, it is replaced; there is an in-between. In between, there is freedom. A moment of emptiness, stillness, silence. Anything can happen in those moments. Sometimes it’s days, months, or years. That empty space is all about freedom.

Freedom leads to independence. I’m in a space just recently, where I have tons of freedom, but I can’t fully enjoy it, or act on it, until some things around me have an ending – a death.

Today, is a day we all celebrate Fourth of July, a federal holiday commemorating the adoption of the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776; the day that the United States formally declared its independence from Great Britain therefore achieving freedom from British rule. But who needs or wants a history lesson? To me, it always feels like so much more is celebrated in achieving and maintaining independence.

It’s about allowing myself to have and understand great gratitude and humility for all I have, all that I am, and for expressing inexpressible thanks to the men and women who have given their lives for us spoiled Americans, to continue on as we do.

So, if death in its scary and intimidating ways, becomes the avenue in which I find the paths that will truly lead me to my own freedom, then I can only say to myself, happy dying… because in the dying, there is living – and the happiness that lies in every corner waiting to accost me, in surprising and demanding ways…

(Thanks for the image Kim!)

Beads

Beads of sweat roll down

in the nick of time,

I catch mine

in the nick of time,

I turn around

and wait to see if you

can really see

the beads are reflections of you

drops of memories free themselves

as they glide down my soft skin

images of you and me and the way

we were bounce back; times gone by

the ones we remember

and the ones that roll around loosely

the string that holds them

no longer taut, no longer strong

but rather a lazy kind of tug

Beads of parts of ourselves

of who we no longer are

Beads of the future gather

around the ground, the path

we walk on, that once led us to

each other,

and now opens to all directions

Beads roll on down in every direction,

I no longer worry… let them roll

LET

THEM

ROLL

BY

© Sandi Martinez

Historical Tapestry; the War between Good and Evil

Divine wars

Divine Wars; the Awakening, was born after a trial and error of sorts. I thought it would be a story of reincarnation and the threads that weave us through past lives and as a result, one another. However, it was not to be what I thought or should be for that matter.

As I began to write, something happened: something bigger, more creative, and infinitely more intelligent flowed through me. My story really, turned out to be about angels and demons. But not the kind that you read about in other richly told stories, or even the biblical ones. This story turned out to be even more than I was humanly capable of imagining.

The historical tapestry of the eternal war between good and evil rages on through today, and will into the future and many generations to come, will also tell tales. But will they talk about this war? The one that happens in our daily lives at any given time, at every conceivable moment? The one where a human who has walked in the light and talked of the light, suddenly becomes dark? Or how about the one that has bathed and lived and trudged joyfully through the dark, only to be struck violently by shards of piercing light?

I don’t know that I have truly done this story justice; it is one that is shared with me via divine whisperings, the kind you don’t hear, yet listen to avidly. As if waking from a dream, only to realize you were dreaming while you lived your reality.

This is not a story I can easily describe, and though I’ve done my best to write up a descriptive synopsis on the back cover of the book, I can honestly say it’s only the beginning of a living, breathing, and often times ethereal story; one that beckoned the angels to my side, as they whispered their sacred secrets into my ears… and they continue. Though I have finished the first installment of ‘Divine Wars; the Awakening”, so Divine Wars; at Dawn, is born.

Stay tuned.

~And they come, so as they may be turned, to a way never gone back to, to be forgotten, only to repeat the steps as if in an exquisite dance… and so they come, to hear the many truths, yet unborn, and unimagined. –Archangel Ramiel.