For the Sake of the Unknown

(Color Cosmos from Royalty Free images)

by Marissa Martinez, Special Guest Blogger, Poet

When you fall off the edge

And you hit a wall

Suddenly you can’t breathe

The fear and the stress that build up inside you

Suddenly boils over

Spilling on to all that surrounds you

Making a mess

But then a gentle hand reaches out to touch you

You turn your back too embarrassed



Now all that left is


Spilling your guts to the unknown hand

The hand touches your shoulder And now you fall apart

I’m honored to post a beautiful poem written by my niece, Marissa Martinez, adaptation from, For the Sake of the Strangers” by Dorianne Laux.

This was a class assignment in her Creative Writing class on September 26, 2018. I’m very proud of her, and I might add… gifted poets just might run in the family! Thank you Marissa for sharing your poem, and look forward to sharing more in the future, I love you sweetie! -Auntie Sandi


The thing about writing


Writing really, truly, is a creative and nearly magical process. Even in writing works of non-fiction, there is this place the creator must be: In the head. The mind becomes a block of words. Words that must capture what is funneling through the writer’s mind – thus depositing in as much as a transparent, and articulate flow of intention as possible – into the reader’s mind.

All writers know this. But the thing about writing, is that ‘getting there’ to that place of magical depositing, is the most difficult and frustrating process of writing. Because once you are there, the words take on this wonderful world of their own. Almost as if the words don’t need the writer anymore.

I wish I could be there more often. I wish I could get out of my head, and let the flow of creativity flow through my body, where it would then circle around back and dump all that colorful and wonderful world of magic that has ceased to exist into my empty mind.

But the truth is, I’ve needed to empty my mind. A mental hibernation of sorts was called for in order to get me here; writing this piece about not being there. And so I wait. I wait for the warmth of words, and the fire in the belly, that will expose them and order them into a semblance of story – a perfect chaos of magical ironies, and a hot mess of emotions that will spur me to keep tapping on these keys.

So until then folks… keep writing, reading, and writing until you find yourself again, should you be in a similar place.

Many blessings,



Soul’s a callin’, are you listening?

IMG_20170527_201706Okay, so it’s June… Flowers blooming; scents overwhelming! Some of us are so busy being busy, we forget to stop and smell the roses – literally.

Some of us are gloomy, sad, worried, and seem to have lost a bit of hope and sunshine. Why? Change is upon us. The four season’s don’t care about the time, or place. When our soul’s are awakening, and we need something different, the soul stirs. Through clouds, sunshine, rain, snow, crazy winds, and everything in between, the soul is challenging us.

How do we make these changes? Moving house? A new job? Looking for a new job? Getting married, getting divorced, getting insane, getting sane… there is no easy answer. But the soul has a way of leading and guiding us. Sometimes, we call this intuition. Sometimes, we call it ‘a small voice’ in our heads. It doesn’t matter how we hear it. What matters is that we do hear it.

This can be a frightening time. If we do heed the call for change already happening, or just at the fringes knocking, it’s scary, there’s no other way around it. But when we cower from change, we become like the stick in the mud, the proverbial STICK IN THE MUD.

But HOW do we make these changes whilst keeping sane and staying in the exciting moment of stepping forward, and not falling back to the negative replays of the B.S. we have fed ourselves, since we could logically think? You just DO IT. Thinking too much, or avoiding thinking is a fine balance. The trick is in the doing.

I’m here folks. I’m here to cheer you on. Get your soul on, and walk forward, knowing every step you take, gets you closer. You are not alone. Every human on earth is facing something. And while not the same as you, it is change nonetheless. Need a free intuitive reading? I can help. All you have to do is donate over $20 to your favorite animal rescue org. Click Animal Rescue Org Enthusiast, for more info. I’m here to help.

Get your soul on, and fly your freak flags folks, it’s summer, the season of sun, love, love, and more love.

Many blessings!


Mother’s Scent

It’s as if a wing has torn off; It falls slowly and in zag-zag motions to the ground; and the breeze moves it around; the wing finds its way finally; to hard earth and breathe’s in the mother’s scent; is this what is meant by death?

By Sandi Martinez

Death’s Rite


All of life continues – even while death’s kiss is at others’ door – we continue. We get up every morning. We brush our teeth. We shower, we eat, we gather all of our things that we will need for the day. … And not necessarily in that order. We continue.

But death… death’s purpose is to watch us lovingly. Pity? Sadness? Regret? No. These things are not on death’s mind. Only one thing persists. Time. Time to takes us either by the hand, or fighting; hand-to-hand combat. It doesn’t care if we are ready, or if have ‘the house in order’. It smiles, and probably not because any of its job is amusing. Death has a job. It gets up every morning, and though it doesn’t experience time like we do, it still needs to do something.

So much of our time is spent on ‘the next thing’. We forget that the only thing that we should be doing, is living now. With more deaths that occur in my circle of friends, family, and acquaintances, I can only say this: Death doesn’t care. Death has a right to exist. And during this most distressing time, we perform our rites for our loved ones whom have passed over to the other side.

And what side is that? You know, the other side… the dimension some people believe in. The one where you aren’t really gone. Your soul continues its existence, but in a different dimension. The other side could be the one of heaven. And heaven knows, many people believe there is one. Do you think death differentiates between heaven and other dimensions? Do you think it cares? Death has a right to live on and do its deed, and we have the rites to celebrate that person’s life.

In the end, I thank death. One day, when it comes for me, I know it will be smiling for one reason – I won’t be fighting tooth and nail to go. I plan on living while I’m alive. Planning comes along with the business of living, but I mean really. Isn’t this the moment you are breathing, seeing with your eyes, absorbing this message: Your right is to live and be happy, and know you have a purpose. That’s it. It’s that simple. Take the dying out of living by celebrating EACH moment you are alive – Now.

-Many blessings folks, and Happy Holidays.




Chasing clouds

When they take shape, be they be my map, or simply a reminder of a state of illusive grace, I must see. (Image: Sandi’s)

As I reap the rewards of writing and publishing Divine Wars; the Awakening, I am struck with the next phase of the next installment… this is a trilogy. A story about good and evil, but not the kind that the world may be familiarly intimate with.

When I say ‘rewards’, I don’t mean monetarily. I mean profusely inspirational. However, as I prepare to begin the second installment, I have run into some… setbacks. Not writer’s block, or inertia, just a pure lack of grounding as the story itself continues to take on a fascinating perpetual, moving, living, breathing, aspect of itself. It has a life of its own. I am invited to live it, though only in spurts.

I do feel as if I’m on a swing – a giant one – that never stops moving. In fact, the only way I can get on, is if I step onto something close to a giant ladder, and then hurl myself onto it like a gifted gymnast. By the same token, the only way I can get off, is to catapult myself into the air; the moving clouds my only compass. Perhaps a divine compass?

I only know this: in order to chase the clouds, I have to be willing to fall off the swing, even when I think I’m properly positioned on it. When they take shape, be they be my map, or simply a reminder of a state of illusive grace, I must see. I must keep my eyes open, even if my fingers rest near my keyboard. As my laptop sleeps and beats in tune with my heart. Even if I think nothing is happening, I know deep down, everything is taking the shape it must, and I have no control over it. I only know, the story takes shape in its own time, its own place, and dances to its own beat. I can only hope to keep in step with this lovely and sacred dance.

Happiness, is it ephemeral?

In the end, happiness happens in the mind. Or does it? (Image: Sandi's.)
In the end, happiness happens in the mind. Or does it? (Image: Sandi’s.)

  1. Adjective: ephemeral – lasting for a very short time. Many beautiful quotes, songs, movies, books, art, and the like, define happiness. In the end, happiness happens in the mind. Or does it?

Look carefully at the image of the blood red beauty above, hanging off of a hollyhock. The center is quite breathtaking. It looks like a star or perhaps a sun? What about the dark reds around the center, that then turn light again? Does this flower know it is happy? Or is it just existing in its pure form? Yes, I retouched it so that the deep colors would be more defined. I focused on the center and sharpened it. But to be quite honest, I really didn’t have to work hard to do that. The flower did it all on its own.

I personally was profoundly affected by the deep and sensuous colors of this flower. It reminded me of parts of myself that have died, and been reborn. Where then, has happiness existed in that process? Is it something that happens moment by moment, or as a result of incredible happenstance that then fuels our hearts with hope?

I took this picture on my 15-minute walk at work today. During my walk, I touched every leaf I could get my fingers on; I brushed each branch ranging from weeds, to trees, though I couldn’t say what they were; only that I gave myself to those leaves as they lined the paved road I walked on. I opened up to greet them as if they were long lost friends or lovers. Every moment that went by as I held them ephemerally in my hands, felt like a brush with life; one I don’t take too much time to focus on. My focus admittedly, though not happily, has been one of death. Not because I have lost many loved ones in a short time-span. Just the small deaths I have experienced within myself.

This flower did something for me, that other things, people, words, community, have been touching within me – life. Within the closing comes the opening.