Tag Archive for: mindbodyspirit

Doing Nothing Can Change Everything

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Our bags backed, goodbyes made, we wait for our ride to the airport home bound. Anthony says, “so much has changed since we got here!” I reply, “but we’ve done nothing?”

One week of not having to do the things that shape our daily lives and satisfy our ambitions. One week to relax and recline. It was an intellectual vacation filled with experiential bliss.

In reflection, I realize we didn’t do nothing we experienced non-doing. The Tao concept of Wu Wei—to align with the natural flow of life.

The primary difference between doing nothing and non-doing is, non-doing does not fall into laziness or apathy. But instead, elevates you into a state of open-mindedness and receptivity to a new reality.

The only mental activity we engaged in was choosing a restaurant for a dinner reservation. Everything else we engaged in happened for us: watching the birds, listening to the sea, tasting the salt air, feeling the breeze tickle our sun drenched skin, and seeing each other enjoy the sensually of living.

Our minds rested from our constant demands and our bodies rose to frolic in its newfound freedom.

Spontaneous happenings, orgasmic stillness, and nature’s embrace guided our days. No one or no thing directed us beyond the current of our environment. We lived life as an Active Meditation.

So much had changed…

We were transported into a state of trust. A trust, that the Universe is for us to enjoy and engage in so totally that we feel encouraged to loose our minds. No books to loose ourselves into. No expectations to satisfy a sense of value. We simply lost ourselves in living.

Letting your mind’s constant chatter stop influencing your state of being is a gift that keeps on giving. It leads you to your senses instead of your emotions. Senses that connect you to each moment as you pass through them.

Upon our return home, I find myself slowing down to sense my reality. I see the places I judge, race and push myself––away from my senses––away from being happy. Places that I can transform into a more pleasant presence that feels good.

Presence creates positive change—a flow of goodness that is under the surface of what our minds think is important, but isn’t.

NYC Bike Lane Mayhem

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As I peddle to the curb to exit the bike lane, I get slammed by a battery operated bicycle. Out of nowhere and at the speed of a motor vehicle, he tries to pass between me and the curb.

I hear the bicycles metallic clank as they crash! The next thing I know, I’m climbing up from the ground, bewildered.
A woman asks if I’m OK?
I’m not even sure what happened, as I check myself for torn cloths or pain points.

The battery bicycle rider spoke little English, but could at least say, I’m sorry.

What strikes me, even more than the mayhem that plagues the NYC bike lanes with battery and motorized bikes making it another (but narrower) car lane, is my lapse of recall between the hit and my fall!

Shock interrupted my timeline.

This interruption has happened to me before in a motorcycle crash, when unexpectedly hit from behind; in sexual abuse, when unexpectedly woken in the night; and, when falling down a staircase, when the woman behind me unexpectedly slipped.

But other car, motorcycle or bicycle crashes, that I have seen coming, have not interrupted time?!

The unexpectedness, not the life threatening consequences, is what interrupted my experience creating a time warp. The unexpected, is what I couldn’t face, recall or feel, then or now.

The unexpected, the out-of-control, the unforeseeable, is what takes us out!

And, we’ve all experienced this phenomenon whether in or out of a shocking time warp. Being out-of-control takes us out of our mind’s comfort zone and we short circuit.

But, there’s more to this story than my mind’s timeline.

In every one of the incidents where time was interrupted, I didn’t get hurt. In fact, I was elevated in some way.

  • In the motorcycle crash, I was thrown past a parking space and bicycle lane to the sidewalk while in the time warp. Then, I returned to real time, when I landed on my feet like a super-hero with a few descellerait steps.
    • I was elevated by my confidence being ignited!
  • In the sexual abuse, I was woken by my perpetrator stroking himself coming toward me. Then, I disassociated into the time warp, into a different environment entirely, where I felt embraced by the Universe and safe. Then, I returned to real time to find my perpetrator lying beside me asleep.
    • I was elevated by experiencing the blueprint of mind body alignment, and being introduced to my future life purpose!
  • In the staircase fall, I felt my knees buckle when the woman behind me fell into me. The cascade down the stairs happened in the time warp. Then, real time returned with me buried under a bleeding woman 60-pounds heavier than I.
    • Uninjured, I was elevated by learning that I was resilient!

The time warp in every situation knocked out my defenses—my learned strategies—from their habitual patterns. I was unable to discern mentally the right action. Instead, my body’s intelligence took over with a perfect amount of surrender and strength to serve and protect me.

All this makes me wonder why we worry so much about what we cannot yet wrap our minds around? Would our lives be happier, and better served, if we could trust the body’s intelligence—the physical world’s involvement—to help guide us.

Could feeling out-of-control be an invitation to stay out-of-our-minds and into-our-bodies?

Next time I feel out-of-control, rather than continuing to muddle around in mental worry, I intend to consider, and act on, what my body is asking for in lieu of the situation. No time warp necessary!

If mind body alignment is intriguing to you, download my Free Mind Body Blueprint. You’ll discover the story your body’s tension is telling.

A Thanksgiving Blessing Rose Out of a Thanksgiving Rejection.

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One year and nine months after my sister Sherry’s death, I was rejected by those I had once considered family. I was the only one my sister’s family excluded from the Thanksgiving guest list.

Sherry was my only sibling. Being excluded from the holiday table we’d shared my whole adult life was an abandonment from family that I knew too well. It triggered the childhood wounds surrounding paternal sexual abuse and maternal abandonment around it.

The blessing is, my mother rejected their invitation to be with me.

While she couldn’t, and still can’t, discuss my challenges around dad’s pedofile advances in my direction. She could choose me this Thanksgiving. A choice that has lifted a dark cloud that has hung over us for the last 40-years.

What I’ve learned is: my joy is more valuable than anyone’s anger, including my own.

A meaningful life is a coming home to yourself. It isn’t about being a savior to others or being patient and kind at your own expense. It’s about being your own hero. Only then can you be free to create the life you’ve been given.

My REACTION to my brother-in-law’s anger was calm rational. But my underlying TRUTH was tormented confusion about how he could be so aggressive toward me when we’d always been allies. My REACTION to my dad’s pedophilia was silence. But my actual TRUTH was terrified confusion about how he could be a caring father by day and scary monster by night… and where was mom night after night?!

I believed that my cloak of calm and silence were acts of love.

But I now realize, my passivity was not love at all. It was fear. Oddly, love and fear have a similar vibration, only opposite sides of the spectrum.

Difference is, love wants to resolve fear and fear wants to perpetuate anger.

My REACTIVE calm has created tremendous conflict within me. I became, by my own embodiment, the sacrificial lamb (so to speak). I have felt irrelevant by my brother-in-law’s accusations and unimportant by my mother’s absence. But, while it’s true I am a victim in this story, I also accepted the role.

I questioned my own relevance and importance, and coward to their anger and shame. I gave them permission to continue treating me wrongly. And, as the saying goes, people treat you how you let them.

Silence has been my REACTIONARY response, not screaming or blaming or fighting. It‘s time to change my REACTIONS into RESPONSES that reflect my inner truths.

This Thanksgiving I give myself permission to give my mom a second chance at motherhood. Just like she said over our holiday meal, “you kids gave me a second chance at childhood.” And, I also give myself permission to walk away from a brother-in-law who’s ruled by anger.

My mother’s love has been shown through her RESOLVE to stand with me, no matter what her limits may be. My brother-in-law has only showed a unquenchable anger that uses fear to perpetuate it’s destructive wake.

Answer life’s call! Keep your story moving! Be your own hero!
Happy Thanksgiving.

Choosing You to Reclaim Love

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We all know people whose identity is wrapped up in being the funny, smart or artistic one. And their sense of value is dependent on broadcasting that “thing.”

Their comments regularly remind listeners of this “thing” they believe makes them lovable using shocking jokes, speaking above the mean, or belittling the artistry of others. Not considering how it may make others feel.

Unless you’re the butt of the joke, the one who doesn’t understand or whose work is being judged, their comments generate laughter, status and awe.

But, what do you do when you’re the butt of the joke?

I’ve experienced being under the weight of a funny guy and an artistic mother. Both of whom, had no intention to hurt me, only to broadcast themselves as the “thing” they valued so much. In fact, I don’t believe I even existed in their inner dialogue at all.

This was the problem. I was hurt just by being associated. Deeply hurt. And they were oblivious to it. They didn’t see that their behavior valued the “thing” more than me.

In both instances, I first tried to validate their popularity and appreciate their talents, in hopes that they’d gain enough confidence to stop throwing verbal daggers. Of course this didn’t work, they were completely unaware of any casualties.

Then, I tried to defend my self and my artistic works, but this was met with complete disinterest. So, I decided this was an opportunity to build my own self-confidence. Why not turn lemons into lemonade!

But, no matter my level of confidence, being around them eventually began to feel unsafe. So, I let them know my feelings. I lost my cool, you might say! And, their response was bewilderment. “How could you feel this way?!” I was dismissed and they continued.

Finally, in both situations, I had to turn my back on them. I had to love myself enough to walk away… at least temporarily. This is what it took for them to look at themselves and consider their actions.

Love makes us want to uplift each other, stand by each other. So we can weather a lot before walking away from it or them. Love is also precious. So we don’t turn our backs without due cause.

I learned that loving myself is the answer to reclaim love. Even when the action of turning my back seems unloving. Because it asks them to love themselves enough to be loving to me. And, my own self-love soothed the swallowed hurts that had accumulated from loving them through their assault of unconscious daggers.

The phrase, you can only love another as much as you love yourself, has never felt more true. For them and me.

May we help each other grow in love, forever and always.

Tammy Unicorn Onesie

Belonging isn’t a Place, it’s a Feeling

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Tammy Unicorn Onesie

Like one of Santa’s elves, my typical Christmas is spent driving 100’s of miles in a rent-a-car sleigh filled with presents. Christmas carols are sung from NYC to the Catskill Mountains, then onward to NJ, where I’d land at my sister’s house for Christmas dinner.

But when my sister died this year, so did my Christmas dinner landing.
Within that loss, was the magic every holiday promises.

I’ve chased “belonging” in my family of origin my entire life. But truth is, I’ve always felt like an outsider. What I didn’t realize was, this chase had blinded me. “Belonging” isn’t restrained for only the place I’ve called home.

This Christmas, I tried to gather with my sister’s family, but to no avail. Disappointed, but not defeated, I found solace in having my first Italian Christmas dinner with my boyfriend’s family.

So, in frigid temperatures that made my sinuses freeze, off I went in my rent-a-car sleigh for a round trip songfest to the Catskill Mountains and straight back to NYC!

When I arrived in the mountains, I come to realize my frozen sinuses were more than a cold head. My body now ached from head to toe.

Cousin Deb gives me a long overdue hug and says, “I’m so happy to see you!”
It’s been 2-years—preCOVID—since we last hugged. I say, “It must be nice to see another face besides your husband and child’s.”
They live off the beaten trail on a beautiful mountain property. She says, “No. It’s you. I’ve missed YOU.”

This was the first stir of “belonging” in a new and profound way.

I stay 2-nights, till Christmas morning. Sick, with what I later learned, was the flu. (My first flu ever! Ugh!!)

Not once during that time did cousin Deb or her family make me feel unwelcome due to my unexpected illness. She took such good care of me. Medicine, constant fluids, food prep, blankets, and a unicorn onesie to keep me warm (a special offering from her daughter Becky) we’re in continual flow!

Late Christmas morning I hug cousin Deb goodbye with tears in my eyes. My heart gripped, like I was leaving a home I had just found—I felt unconditional belonging here—as I pull out of the driveway.

As the black sheep of our perspective families, through the years cousin Deb and I compared notes and sympathized with each others stories. But until now, that bond had kept me an outsider. Perhaps, with my family unit dismantled I felt the opening that was always there to feel the “belonging” I sought with my cousin Deb?!

Upon arrival in NYC, I’m told that my illness would make the guests at my first Italian Christmas uncomfortable. And, of course, I didn’t want to make people sick. It only struck me, because it was in such contrast to cousin Deb. I wanted to “belong” with my boyfriend’s family.

Here’s the thing… for years, I was so wrapped up in what I didn’t have, I didn’t see what I did have. I went from chasing “belonging” with my birth family to my boyfriend’s family. And, all the while, belonging had always been there with cousin Deb. I never had to chase it, I simply needed to see it.

I am so grateful to cousin Deb (Ken and Becky too) for loving me up for Christmas. In sickness and in health.

Do you have a Belonging story? Who was it with? Share!
Happy New Year!!

The Healing Treasures of Pain

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There are times that we choose pain and times that pain chooses us. When we’re chosen, it’s easy to feel victimized, and we are. But to heal, I believe, one needs to find the gift within the pain.

Being open to pain’s healing is like having a gift that keeps on giving. I was recently elevated out of a childhood pain of parental abandonment. One of those low-grade emotional conditions that you just live with and may not even name as pain. Instead, you may live in avoidance of its squeeze.

Avoiding pain’s squeeze, unfortunately and inevitably, catches up to you.

I met a man about a year ago at a favorite cafe whom I felt uncomfortable around. You know that feeling when your gut churns, your eyes squint, and you take a step back. Through the past year he was a regular customer, so I put a polite smile on my face and gave him the benefit of my doubt.

Well, I will be more trusting of my gut’s instinct moving forward.

While my boyfriend, Anthony, was chatting with someone else one evening, this man leaned into my breathing space and started asking questions about my fitness. He quickly shifted his commentary to my sexy, sophisticated, presence. The most beautiful in the cafe.

If this were my boyfriend whispering these intimacies, I would lean into his love and devotion. But, in this case it felt over-indulgent and self-serving. My brain froze. No words came to change the course of this man’s momentum.

As I shift uncomfortably in my seat, he slides his hand up my side and cops a feel of my right breast. A blatant uninvited intrusion of my space, body and relationship with Anthony, disguised in a gesture to steady me on the bar stool. But, let’s be clear, I needed no steadying.

Rather than stating my boundaries, all I could do was excuse myself. I moved to the other end of the bar until he left.

This moment of freezing is scary. It’s the same freeze that happened repeatedly in my childhood when my father inappropriately came into my bedroom at night. I felt, and feel, helpless, alone and terrified in these moments.

Different than my childhood story, in my adult story, the freeze is what scares me. This man’s conduct was inappropriate, but not threatening my safety. In these situation it’s easy to dismiss creepy disrespect, and instead, judge my muted self-respect.

I shared the incident with a woman who, unbeknownst to me, had had a similar altercation with this man. The story spread and an owner/bartender heard the report. My next visit there, my boyfriend held an outdoor table for us, because the man was inside at the bar.

What happened next blew my mind!

The bartender came out and confirmed the story. As it was told to me afterward, he returned inside and slid the man’s check in front of him. The man slid it back to him saying, he didn’t ask for a check. It was slid back in the man’s direction again and this time paid.

When the man exited the cafe I jumped up, now unfrozen and prepared, to tell him that he’d made me uncomfortable and set a clear boundary. But that’s not what happened!

The bartender followed him out and stopped him just outside the cafe’s dining area.
The man was asked to not return.

Soon after the bartender returned to his post at the bar, a gentleman friend stuck his head out the door and said, “There’s a seat in here for you Tammy.” When we went inside, a group of people ushered me into a love cocoon. I felt treasured.

I was stood up for, protected and loved by all of them. I was offered the cocoon my family of origin couldn’t offer.

I say to the woman, who had had the same experience, that I was intending to speak to the man and practice standing up for myself. She said, “I understand that, but can you accept being stood up for and feel safety from that?”

My whole life has been about developing mind body strength. It has served me well. But the self respect, love and trust gained by this strength isn’t to separate me from the respect, love and trust of others.

The pain I carry around from my childhood was just made lighter by letting others in. Not by becoming more independent and self-entrusted. I’m learning that it also takes strength to depend on others and trust they’ll be there. I am healing and I treasure these moments pain has constructed and amplified.

I would love to hear from others who have lived with a similar ‘freeze’ response to disrespect.

 

How the Dead Communicate

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My sister’s last days, once released from the COVID ward, was in an induced coma on a respirator. We all wondered if she could hear us talking at her bedside? And, I for one, continue to wonder if she can hear now that she’s dead?

On the welcome table of my sister’s thrift shop, now run solo by her best friend and business partner—Missy, stood a new center piece protected by a glass globe. It was a construction paper sculpture of an eagle, crafted around an empty toilet paper roll.

Missy explained that her granddaughter came home from school, overjoyed about her art project and said, “this is from GG Sherry.” (That’s what she called my sister!)

Missy continued to explain that when sitting at my sister’s bedside, between respirator beeps and nurse intrusions, she had asked my sister to give her a sign when she was peacefully settled on the other side.

And, as she described it, it was ‘agreed upon’ that the sign would be channeled through a large bird.

There it was. An eagle made of construction paper, channeled through a child, communicating my sister’s peaceful arrival in the land of the dead.

I was delighted by the story and my time with Missy, who gives me a kind of sister-hit whenever I stop by the store! When I left, I went about my day of responsibilities, driving mom to doctors and managing her needs and stuff at the Senior Facility where she lives. The paper eagle was out of mind.

Then something extraordinary happened!

After learning that, what had been my sister’s home, was now going to be rented out and would no longer house my mom’s extra-stuff. I started my drive back to NY in tears. My sister’s family was moving on. I felt totally alone in caring for my mom.

These are the moments I miss my sister the most.

Suddenly, a hawk with a wing-span the width of my windshield swooped down in front of me. Sharing the same wind current at 50-miles an hour, this huge bird and I breathed the same air!

Without hesitation I cried out, “Sherry?!”
And, as if she was sitting right beside me I heard, “you got this, just rise above the ache in your heart.”
Then, just as quickly as she arrived, she rose up into the sky out of sight.

There it was. A hawk traveling at 50-miles an hour, channeled by my heart’s cry, communicating my sister’s fierce support in the land of the living.

It’s so easy for the mind to discount the idea of channeled communications from the dead. But the body hasn’t the capacity to dismiss such pure connections. My experience with the hawk was as real as writing these words.

We are, after all, made of energy. In life contained; in death dispersed. In either case, love is the thread that weaves us together. A love that never dies. A love, I’m learning, that lives eternally.

 

Significance of Sisterhood

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When my only sister and sibling died this year, I mourned the comfort of sisterhood. This ending of sisterly familiarity, understanding and inclusion gave rise to a new kind of sisterhood. Feminine UNITY, VISION, and BEAUTY.

When death creates an opening, a blank canvas replaces it inviting new life. In the past month a cocoon of feminine energy has engaged me with that blank canvas.

Ten years since my last stage performance, I’m now invited to dance with a belly dance troop from my past. Our ensemble of four, danced to raise money for an aging belly dancer who has mentored the dance community and provided a dance studio devoted to UNIFYING belly dancers worldwide.

Together we danced for a cause that UNIFIED women through rhythm and grace. This sisterhood offered me a sense of belonging in the world.

When my sister died, her two sons tattooed a graphic from her favorite sewing machine on their left forearms, changing the word Singer to Mom. It included a golden heart with a bow tied inside. A VISION of gifting love. Like the crafted items she sewed.

A female Russian artist and I designed a unique tattoo that included that golden heart that’s now engraved on my left hand. A revised VISION that combined what was meaningful to me and artistic to her. This sisterhood offered me a sense of participation with the world.

Noticed for my eclectic style, I was approached by a local curator of Israeli designs to model her clothes. I was soon in her studio with another female model, female stylist, and female photographer. We each brought a unique BEAUTY to the collaboration.

Together we made a whole. Each of our BEAUTY magnified each other’s. This sisterhood instilled a sense of self offered by the world.

Sisterhoods build UNITY, VISION and BEAUTY, but are built from the familiarity, understanding, and inclusion my sister bestowed on me. A sisterhood, I’ve come to realize, is a microcosm of the bonds we can keep having throughout our lives.
If we let it be so?

Sisterhoods change “I” into “we” consciousness.

They are a needed bond in today’s world. They liberate your confidence for personal freedom. And, they develop your curiosity fostering social acceptance.

Sisterhoods offer the safety to dig deeper into personal experience, to gain control of yourself without needing to control another.

Sisterhood is:
• Familiarity with another human—a bond that nourishes your VISION of yourself and with the world.
• An understanding that you’re an integral part of a greater whole—a celebration that BEAUTY is unique, unquestionable, and given to everyone by the world.
• And, inclusion in the evolution of humankind—a love that UNITES you with others as an aligned and collaborative force of goodness in the world.

The relationship with my sister, before and mysteriously even more penetrating after her death, has reassured me that I not only belong in this world, I am significant.

Sisterhoods remind us who we are and celebrate what we contribute to the world. They are a treasured gift. A gift that can keep giving again and again as we actively create these life affirming bonds.

Grieving to Healing

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Fire burns the darkness away.

It’s the morning after my sister’s funeral and I’m relieved I took the day off.

Exhaustion plagues my body and I’m keenly aware of a black hole in my gut. It’s a deep chasm of sadness and heartache. To be expected, I thought. This must be what grieving feels like.

Days passed. Everyday I had to crawl myself out of this chasm of darkness and find my light again and again. It was exhausting. It was getting scary.

But, I also felt aligned and beautifully connected with my sister spiritually. In some ways I felt closer to her than ever before!

I began to wonder if this internal darkness was something other than grieving?

The two-months leading up to her COVID death I was the easy one to hate by her husband and youngest son. I was vaccinated, and they and my sister were not. It created separation. I was attacked with mean words, hung up on, and completely disregarded.

Maybe the black hole was a pocket of hate that I absorbed?

I knew it was possible from my experience with Inca medicine. So, I returned to the native way of healing… FIRE!

With a Shaman’s support, I spent 3-days burning hate away, theirs and mine.

Each day I made an urban fire and surrounded it with five tea candles. Each one representing a different direction. I’d burn a stick, wrapped with the hate, and explore all the ways I had created separation. Both personally and worldly.

Fears and injustices, pain and trauma, ignorance and indifference were all covered. With each story of despair I spoke the words: “I forgive me and I forgive you, because I love me and I love you.”

It would take 6-hours for the fire and candles to burn out each day. And each day I experienced a different kind of exhaustion, coupled with emotional tears and physical pain. But the black hole is now gone!

What is left is a constant and everlasting love between sister’s.

The onus is on each one of us to live in our own light. No matter what happens around us, we decide to be happy or despairing.

There are so many ways to support personal alignment. There will be times when your daily disciplines fall short and additional support is needed. I share this story to share a way that helped me pass through a dark and lonely choice I was making.

When I made a new choice to stand in my light, to shed the darkness that I perpetuated, the hole inside of me filled with love. The love my sister and I share.

Decide to be happy, no matter what!

Urban Fire Recipe: metal bowl, epsom salts, ethyl alcohol and a match.
Shaman Contact: morgan.millogo@gmail.com / www.roseinfire.com

My Sister’s Scheduled Death

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As I float on a train through backyards filled with yesterday’s snow, I prepare myself for my sister’s 6pm death. The creep-factor of the extended days on a ventilator are pacified by her healthy organs being paired for donation. She will die a hero.

I wonder… when a ventilator keeps a body alive does our Spirit body stick around?
Am I going to visit a heaving corpse?

When I get there, I witness mechanized breathing with perfect rhythm. Her body is like a self-driving Tesla with all the sound effects. She’s expressionless, motionless and powerless, except for her heaving chest.

Days before I was in Vieques, a small island off of Puerto Rico with wild horses, roosters, pigs and peacocks wondering about minding their own business. An albino horse pranced up to me on the beach (an unusual behavior for a wild horse). We frolicked around and she let me pet her angelic white mane for as long as I liked.

As I walked away I was sure that that was my sister saying goodbye. She used to own a black horse named Raven’s Wing. She loved horses and we shared this affection.

When I returned to my resident friend down the beach and shared my experience he said, “That was a ghost horse. I’m sure it was your sister!”

But here I am today, looking at her alive… sort of.?! How could she be here and there?

After watching her for hours, it was time to say my final goodbye. I spoke of how our parents had not said I Love You when we were kids. But that, at some point in her adulthood, she started to say I Love You to me. While at first it felt like koodies; I told her that after years of her saying it, I started to consider the possibility of Love being a kind, caring and forgiving thing.

Just as I said, “Thank you for helping me feel Love as goodness,” she started to gag.

I ran to the nurses desk, “HELP, my sister’s in distress!”

As they attended to her, I felt certain her spirit was here in her mechanized body. She heard me and responded to my heartfelt story of how her Love healed my cautious heart.

As I journeyed back home in the dark, I meditate on how the veil between our earth-walk and spirit-walk is not a straight line. We evolve and grow through physical, mental and spiritual planes at different speeds, times and levels of consciousness.

We’re multidimensional mortals. We’re spiritual beings borrowing physical and mental bodies.

My sister was becoming immortal. I’m witness to her spirit body dominating her other bodies. In Tao they say, Transformed Immortals can walk in both worlds and Love is their guiding force.

I believe my sister frolicked as a horse, gagged on her ventilator, and continues to say I Love You to me. I believe she is free to walk in either world to help human’s Love.

I Love You sis.