The Real Me

The Real Me

As I continue exploring Magic, I return to my Creed:

1. I believe in Evolution, the process of upleveling.

2. Humor and Belly laughs unite us.

3. Yoga, meditation, and a healthy lifestyle are my jams.

4. If it’s not a “Hell Yes!” I’m not doing it.

5. I cry when I sing.

6. I believe empathy is the secret sauce for healing and change.

7. Curiosity and Beginner’s Mind are the most frequented tools in my toolbox.

8. I Have Time is my new religion.

9. My father’s death reminds me how fleeting this life is.

10. Love is Love is Love is Love is Love.

Liza Fernandez

velocity

velocity

Velocity.
Extreme focus ready to rock the day.
Mind at the service of the body.
At the ready,
What do you WANT to do today?

God, I get so overwhelmed by possibility.
Today’s explorations are endless!
It is like energy bottled, and ready for drinking.
And then here’s the thing:

I fear someone will take it away.
I fear I have to give it up, take on someone else’s wishes.
It haunts me. I stiffen at the idea of it.
And then (the irony), I yearn for it.
Maybe some rest, or going over there is a better choice.

Dog,
Lover,
Family,
Bills, calls, dishes, laundry, etc,
The unexpectedness of life,

Freedom is having the choice
To use my own velocity the way I want to.
To make decision deep within the soils of the soul
So I can birth strong roots to grow a magnificent plant
With leaves that stretch for days,
To nurture not just her,
But all those around her.

March’s Blue Moon

March Blue Moon

Double whammy this month. March is a Blue Moon, an astronomical term. Not cuz it’s blue but because either it’s either an extra full Moon that occurs in a season, or there’s a second full moon in a calendar month, hence this month’s second moon.

Ok, Beautiful Blue Moon, here goes:

I let go of what I knew.

I let go of what I deem are ‘mistakes’.

I let go of holding back.

I cultivate second chances. 

I cultivate trying again for the fun of it.

I cultivate freedom.

Your turn.
Liza Fernandez

Crystal(ization)

crystals

She’s about the feeling of things.
Purpose, intention, crystals, jewelry that means something or else why wear it?
She’s stunning to look at,
a glow from within.
Her world has exploded wide open,
in the biggest game in town.
She is flying high.

I’m watching myself study her.
Yet another rocket taking off, and again, the ship has sailed without me.
But, wait.
A thought comes to me, crystallized.
Maybe it’s not about the glitz and glamor
Maybe it’s not about the job and the colossal team behind her.
Maybe it’s simply her perspective.

That lightness of being; the effortlessness, right time/ place, sort of thing.
Suspended
Held up by Nature.
Airplane wings like pillows and blankets
embracing and elevating her.
Nestled in, she dreams a life actualized.

What I can do.

tender

tender

Weeks, since writing.
Cause? Open heart surgery.
Recuperating is like watching hair grow.
He said many things.
She did the same.
Words, on repeat, like radio.

You don’t really know someone.. until you do.
A wakeup call.
Without warning,
We went from green to red.

I take responsibility.
For stepping over my boundaries.
I carry that mark.
Wounds, please heal fast.
I hope time is our friend, my love.

What a time to be disconnected
In this beautiful, vast cyber city.
What should be hibernation with cuddles and warm blankets
What should be hugs holding us through the night –
Is not.
Let’s see how it turns out…

Tender.
Heart. Pride. Certainty. Love.

tomorrow, lovely one

tomorrow, lovely one

This is my shadow.
A life a few feet behind me.
That shirt. God, I thought I tossed it.
This smell..brings me back to here.
When it was then.

I sat at this very table processing, organizing, dreaming, concocting.
He sat catching a show on the tube.
I would go to sleep full of dreams and plans and, well, darkness.
Truth is,
How can you build on unsteady ground?
This work is hard and real and very necessary.

These pants. I hope they fit.
Do I still want the books, the socks, the dusty makeup?
Maybe not the makeup.
The muffled city outside taps on my window.
Tomorrow, lovely one. Tomorrow.

My little treetop of goodness.
How it fills my soul.
Silence. No dog. No schedule. No errands.
Not yet. Just. Me.
Hard work happens on an exhaustive plane home,
Unpacking and sifting and embracing my fragile heart.

Eyes like thick drops of oil.
Body like a sleepy kitten. Make that an older cat.
And still,
Mind swimming uphill with zest, or maybe desperation.
Nope.
Tomorrow, lovely one. Tomorrow.