My Friendship With Empathy

I question my belief system on the regular.

I’m not sure I will ever feel comfortable declaring my truth as something concrete and unchangeable.

I’ve been told by generations before me that I should have something I stand for — something so unshakeable that no one could possibly make me budge on it.

I guess to some it would appear that I don’t have that. I contradict myself time and time again.

I prove myself wrong on the daily and I question anything, and everything, that appears on my path.

I think that what lies unshakeable within me goes beyond a declaration of words.

I could tell you my life story,

every choice I’ve made and path I’ve taken.

I can share my shitty experiences and my epic ones.

I can speak to you from the depths of my heart about brokenness and love and all it’s grittiness.

I can tell you where I am. Where I’ve been.

I could even say where I would like to be tomorrow based on what I know today, but so much unknown will happen before morning and I like to welcome the new bits as they come. To me it’s like taking a cup of salt water and putting it in a glass then forgetting about the ocean. Something so infinite as the unknown cannot be defined, only felt through the filters of our life.

Gods and Goddesses, Nature, Self, Science, Religion, Spirituality.

Nothingness and everything.

I see it.

I feel it.

The best of things and the worse.

The orgasms and the tears.

Community and solitude.

Need and selflessness.

Jealousy, greed, euphoria, bliss.

Life.

It’s like every cell that makes me human is a beating heart. I feel like a vessel – a place for all the pieces to rest, including my own.

I don’t agree with it all.

I don’t subscribe to any of it.

But it’s all here.

And I choose to be here too.

I trust the journey,

even within all the questions.

So, please, take from my confessions what you will.

If your right is wrong for me, let it be.

And if my right now is wrong for you, let it be.

What feels good to you?

Do that.

And I will do what is right for me today.

And, truly, I’m alive.

I’m living.

With nothing to prove,

only a lover to show.

So, let me be as I have let you,

and let others be them

just as you have been you.

Love,

@yourmoonbabe

Advertisements

I Am Not Sorry For Being Woman

I grew up with mostly males as friends.

In my young young years, I was pretty Tom boy. I sat with my legs spread, wore boy clothes, played football, ate like a horse. Actually, I still do all those things, but you get the picture.

I never really resonated with girls in school, besides the few who also had lots of guy friends. But then, I got older and more feminine, and things started to happen that pushed me away from that and toward sisterhood. Friends started punching holes in walls, and threatening to kill themselves, because they saw me kissing another guy. It wasn’t working out for me to hang with the boys.

I once had a New Years party after I graduated high school — one of my greatest friends from HS, that had been my mate for years, came. In the evening, he helped me carry my passed-out boyfriend to my bed and then cornered me in my room, trying to lift my shirt off while whispering to me stupid shit about how he’s always known how I felt. I pushed him off me multiple times before he called me a bitch and left. I questioned what I did to lead him to that many times but mostly, I just dropped the whole thing. I could understand, with how close our friendship was, how he could get into that mental space. A few years later, he apologized, and I forgave him, but we were never friends again.

Later that year I was working as a waitress in Austin, and my two managers, who lived together, offered to take me and a glassy/bar-back home because we were asked us to work later than the city buses ran. On the way, they said they needed to stop at their friends place quick. When we walked in, there was a mountain of cocaine on the table and like 15 people stuffed in a tiny apartment. It wasn’t beyond me that all the bartenders used but I was still uncomfortable as I waited for them to make their deal.

We all got back in the car and they said that, because it was so late, we could just stay with them and they would take us back in the morning. When we went into the house, there were a few other people hanging out so I didn’t feel unsafe. They put on a classic movie and I fell asleep on the couch, waking up later to one of my managers kissing me down my neck.

I sat up, made a joke, and told him I needed to go home. Everyone had obviously gone home since I originally fell asleep. He pulled his dick out and said, “but look at what you’ve done to me… you can’t leave me like that.” I laughed and made a sarcastic apology, trying to keep the energy light enough to just get out. I called a cab, he paid for it, and I quit my job a few days later, never telling anyone higher up about the incident because it didn’t feel like it qualified as anything. I had heard far worse stories and it felt silly to make a big deal out of an incident that left me full of shame, but physically unharmed. Plus, I knew he had a daughter, and I didn’t want him to lose his job.

A few years later, a guest teacher came into my massage school that I had been attending off and on for 2 years.

The head teacher hadn’t seen this guy in 15 years, since he originally taught him, so he had invited him back to the school to get up to date with the new teachings and also participate as a teacher. Honestly, I thought the guy was awesome – in his late 50’s but young spirited and playful. Everyone loved him. I even talked to him and my mom about meeting each other. He gained my trust quickly as he gave me space to ask unreasonable questions and welcomed my sarcasm and bluntness. I knew that he incorporated Tantra in his private practice and it was something, at the time, I was really trying to understand in my own life.

Note: When I spoke of Tantra, I spoke of energy, not physical contact, and I was clear about that. I remember now a conversation that I had with him where he acknowledged my outwardly sensual nature and warned me of the “lions and tigers” of the world, suggesting that I needed protection if I were to continue living my life with such openness.

On the last day of class, he offered to give me a private session because I had missed the part of the course when everyone got a full treatment. Throughout the massage, I let him raise my shirt above my head as it felt normal to do that and I felt close enough to him after the course to not question it. Everyone had practically seen me naked at some point throughout a month of living on the same property and we were all really close. Plus, I’m not a shy one.

But then, the energy shifted.

I felt it as clear as day as his hands slipped into my pants and he began to pull them off.

I sat up in shock, turned around, and found him there with his pants already off. I’m not sure exactly how he did that without me noticing.

He was different, like a mask had fallen from his face and he was now an animal, in hunt.

I was angry and afraid, but mostly, I just felt sad — so sad and so heartbroken by the betrayal I experienced in that moment.

That school was like a home to me, a place where I felt completely free to be myself, and in just an instant, he took that away.

I cried like a child as the knowing flooded my heart that he’s done this, time and time again, with the spiritual mask of tantric healing, to many many women before me.

I cried at the sheer fact that I didn’t catch it.

I had spoke to my mother of his worthiness without a hint of question.

He was so good at holding his mask in place,

I never saw a glitch.

He obviously had many years of practice.

It wasn’t his age that got me, it was the manipulation.

The trust that he had gained as said, “teacher.” He used beautiful tools for healing as tools for feeding his outdated dick.

I sat there in shock for a minute as he explained to me that he has been watching me throughout school. Dancing, singing, speaking to people. I cringed as he spoke as if every ounce of my expression was for him. As if everything I had done throughout that month-long course was to feed his desire to taste something so youthful and alive.

I was clear that I wasn’t my body in that moment. I wiped my tears. An energy outside me, wrapped me up and held me, as I spoke for every woman he’s ever encountered and may encounter in the future. I’m not even sure what I said, it was like something was speaking for me, and he didn’t try to stop me when I left.

I found my room and laid in bed until morning, soothing the rage that was building in my depths. I left the property the next day, and immediately became a victim. My head spun with the knowing that I was taken advantage of, and I did everything in my power to shut it down with gratitude that it didn’t go further — with gratitude for my strength and willingness to speak up, though I was certain, I should never have had to do so.

I kept suffocating my anger with compassion — with my outrageous ability to understand the minds of people, however fucked up they might be. It took me weeks before I spoke to my mom and sister about it, and eventually, the school. I realized that I didn’t have to make this guy a monster. It wasn’t about that. It was about continuing my commitment to stand for the women — to speak and say, “this is wrong for me and could be wrong for others…”

The school treated it beautifully and the wife of my head teacher, who had been sexually harassed and taken advantage of throughout her entire youth held the most amazing space for me to process the experience and heal. Every teacher from the school called me with genuine concern. Never once did they make me feel like I had done something wrong though they all knew me well. They all knew my natural personality to be very sensual, flirty, and open — but they only apologized from their depths that my space was infiltrated in any way.

I can create sexual tension with anyone,

no matter the gender or age.

I know this about me.

I know that my expression is misinterpreted time and time again.

I had gotten to a point where I actually did not know how to respond to men anymore — after the betrayals I had felt and self blame I had embodied, it’s natural for me to assume that every man on my path wants something from me. It made me far more aware of my mannerisms, my tone of voice, and my choice of words, as to not ever put myself in a compromised position.

Over the last few years though, I have had a few incredible men prove to me that fierce and beautiful and real masculine energy still lives.

I have had men who saw me traveling alone and took it upon themselves to protect me as though they were my blood brother.

Men who saw first hand what happened to me on the daily — guys grabbing my ass in bars, buying me drinks without asking, trying to pull me to the dance floor without my consent — they have kicked some serious ass for me, risked their lives for me, and held me in my brokenness, wanting nothing in return.

Men have offered me tidbits of wisdom, and listened to every word that I spoke, without ever making me feel like I owe them something for their ears.

There are good men.

I see them.

I know them.

I’m held by the best one on the daily.

And I’m here, now, strong in the knowing that women shouldn’t have to spend so much energy learning how to navigate the world of unhealthy/unbalanced masculine energy.

I’m learning how to trust myself in all of my expression again, without shame or guilt for how my authentic self affects others around me and I am fully committed to continue embracing and expressing myself fully, forgiving myself fully, and loving every single drop of who I am, fully!

I am quite clear that it’s time for men to figure out their shit and how will they do that if we all just keep playing their game, following their rules, and apologizing when we break them!

So, to those people who try to warn me of the lions and bears — to wear more clothes and watch my tongue — because there are creeps in the world.

My loves, yes, I know of them.

I’ve had their lips on my neck and their hands down my pants.

And as tough as that can be…

I can honestly say, today, I am tougher. Stronger.

More fierce and ready than ever to teach the fuckers how to honor the sacredness of a woman!

And fear won’t stop me from being true to me.

I’m not sorry if I turn you on.

I’m not sorry if you can’t help yourself.

I’m not sorry if you think I do this all for you.

I’m not sorry for being me.

I’m not sorry for being a woman.

I’m not sorry.

Love,

Your Moon Babe

The Power of Woman


I woke up, put on a hat, and hesitated putting on pants. 

You know when you find an outfit that just feels like a genuine expression of how you feel? 

That’s how I felt. 

I put pants on in the end, so I could walk to the coffee shop undisturbed. 

Sitting here now, listening to the girl next to me at the crowded coffee shop tell her friend about the importance in finding fulfillment and love within yourself before attempting to manifest a significant other. 

She was nailing it so hard that I had to turn around and give her a high five. 🌻 

Never underestimate a woman who stands in the power of all that she is. For when they know of their power, they know everything. 
Make sure to stop and acknowledge the women who are doing it — the women who are walking through the storm and claiming their strength and ability to create.

When you come across them, take it as an affirmation for the both of you — you’re doing something right. Keep on. 
Love, 

Z (your moon babe)

Moon Babe in Cancer

I got a message from my mom asking, 
“How are you weathering this Cancer full moon with such grace?” 
I literally laughed out loud. 
Full moon in Cancer. 
Of course it is. 
I recalled how I spent the last few days — how I felt, how I acted, what I’ve done. 
Building up to the full moon, I camped, with my adopted family, at the tip of South Australia.
I slept in a one person Swag beneath the stars — it felt like a shell and I was happy when the space opened for me to retreat, unseen, into it. 
I spent my evenings tucked beneath my sun tapestry, with a little lantern light, getting present with my truth as I went through all my past writings, picking out the ones that felt right to share with my online community. 
I spent the day of the full moon adventuring at the beach with the kids — revealing tiny crabs from underneath rocks and then returning them to their home. 
That night, it was colder than it should be in an Australian summer and everything was still damp from the night of rain we received before. The kids were fussy from long days with little sleep so their mom decided to go back to their Grandparents house nearby to sleep for the night. 
There was some sense of sadness that I felt to leave my physical shell behind — it felt like it was something I needed — but I wanted to go along so that I could help with the children that next morning. 
As we rode home, I remained in silence. 

I could feel something pulling at my heart strings. 
When we got to the house, I said goodnight, and found my way into the night to sit alone under the moon. 
Heartbreak. Loneliness. Fear. Betrayal. Anger. Pain. 
They came and then they went in their own time, one after the other – like waves, rising to their peak and then crashing down to join the gentle flow of the oceans entirety. 
And I rode each one, letting the tears fall as they needed to, knowing that my truth stands strong beneath it all — knowing that the shore was sure to come — knowing my breath would find its rhythm. 
And here I am. 
Alive and in love. 
Slowly making my way back out of my shell – in my own time. 
Love, Z (@yourmoonbabe)

Don’t Keep Calm, Carry on. 

One thing I’ve learned from the work that I do with children is that there is nothing empowering in telling a person to “calm down.”

You’re basically telling them, 
“your emotions are not valid.” 

We’ve all done it. 

“calm down,” 

“stop crying”

 “chill out”

“your being ridiculous”

has come out of the mouths of many. 

If that doesn’t work, we resort to distraction. 

We grab a big colorful toy that lights up and we say,

“Here, look at this.”

When we do this, we pass on the pattern of thinking that happiness exists outside of us — that fulfillment lies in world of materials — that who we are isn’t good enough. 

No transformation can occur when we repeatedly teach our children, generation after generation, to suppress their emotions. 

There is no greater reflection of the state the world is in than a child throwing a tantrum for no known reason.

It’s directly related to our own personal resistance to change. To distract someone, or invalidate someone’s feelings, is a selfish coping mechanism – a cop out. It’s a way to avoid responsibility for the state of consciousness that we currently stand in. 

To suppress our fear or anger or sadness — to appear calm and collected for society as we are internally tormented — not only causes disease, emotional disorders, social disorders, mental disorders, and illness, but it also feeds the stagnant, lifeless, way of being that we, as a human race, have been trapped in for far too long. 

And since we work so hard to look like we have our shit together, we expect everyone else to do the same! 

We are so focused on looking good, being accepted, and being liked that we have been literally making ourselves sick with our own emotions. 

The question is, who created the status quo?  

And why didn’t we have a say?

In the last 60 years, psychiatrists have added, above the original 106, almost 200 more mental illnesses to the DSM. There is currently a 50% chance of being diagnosed with a mental illness as an American Citizen. 

What the actual fuck. 

Since when did we all agree that it’s not okay to feel?

And instead of being given the skills to understand our emotions, we are given skills to suppress them — numb them. 

We’ve been programmed, by ourselves and others, with food and drugs and distractions, to avoid our inner voices — to turn off our ears to the essence of our being. And we’ve learned this skill so well, and at such an early stage, that we don’t even realize we are doing it. 

It’s comfortable for us. It’s normal to us.

The need for acceptance and acknowledge, and the pain that comes with that, is all we’ve ever known. We can’t see the inauthenticity because we’ve never seen authenticity.

It’s become acceptable to live a whole life never truly knowing who you are. 

And everyday that we live half alive, we add to the chaos and destruction of this planet

We are given tools of survival. 
But why aren’t we given the tools to thrive? 

Why aren’t we teaching our children how to love and integrate all aspects of who they are, so that they can live this life powerfully and full?

Why is it that only part of who we are is accepted in society? 

Because when we are whole and complete, we are powerful beyond measure. 

When we have access to our intuition — when we can clearly hear our inner voices — we can create anything. We no longer need materials and medications to make us happy. We no longer need people outside of us to tell us who we are. 

The current system will have no use to us. 

I say, lets do it. 

Enough is enough. 

It’s time. 

It’s time to pull back the layers. 

It’s time to reveal the core. 

It’s time to cry, to wail, to kick and scream. 

It’s time to feel

And let the children feel. 

Transformation lies in the ability to see all that exists within you. 

Acknowledge the chaos. 

Hear it. 

Speak with it. 

Get to know it. 

Your fear and anger and sadness is valid. 

Let it come forth and embrace it with love. 

Allow for your curses to be turned into magic. 

Allow this innate ability to feel deeply to be integrated back into your life with strength and power and love. 

Call forth a tribe who will hold space for you to lose your ground so that you may find your wings. 

It’s a beautiful gift that we have as human beings —
to feel

Don’t keep calm, my darling. 

Carry on. 

Love,

Z (your moon babe)

You and I

I knew this day would come.

I saw how you were making your way out

Of the deepest corners of my mind. 

I saw how I was letting you go. 

I felt your voice become quiet, soft, weak.. 

Until one moment, I spoke of you, 

And I realized you were just a story —

A distant memory. 

I tried to find you — to embody you. 

I tried to access your voice.. 

But I only heard my own. 

It felt necessary for you to go. 

I knew it had to be. 

I thought we’d have more time together. 

I thought you’d still be here —

to hold me when I felt alone, 

To let me bathe in pain and 

Give me reasons to blame something outside of myself. 

I know it’s wrong now 

But it was comfortable. 

I love you. I miss you. 

At times I want you back –

No.. 

At times, I wish I could want you back. 

I know that you can no longer exist. 

Because you are no longer me.  

I grieve your passing because I know

This time, you will not return. 

I know, this time, I have set you free. 

Consciously, I let you go. 

Consciously, I purge the death of you. 

Consciously, I do not call you back. 

I see,

I die again in every passing moment. 

Thank you for playing your part. 

Thank you for your reflection. 

You were everything I needed

to be to become who I am. 

And now, I can stand alone 

Because I’ve stood with you. 

 

Love, 

Michaela ‘Z’ (your moon babe) 

📸: Santiago Lo Cascio Imaz
#lettertoself #notetoself #lovetoself #rebirth #transformation

Where There Is Darkness, Let There Be 

He was her love. 
She was everybody else’s. 
“It’s gotta end,” she said. 
Filling me up just to leave me empty. 
Who gave you the right to my aliveness? 
I suppose it was me. 
Yes, I did that. 
I let myself go dim in the presence of your light. 
And now, I stand in the dark. 
Unable to see, I am forced to listen. 
My spirit speaks,

“Where there is darkness, let there be.” 
So I breathe. 
And I let the night hold me. 
There is something here — 
a deep sense of freedom. 
I think I like it. 
I’m not waiting for you. 
I’m not searching for you. 
I recognize the beauty of it — 
the romance of dependency. 
It’s not for me. 
I see the chord that has attached to my soul. 
With all my love, I cut it — 
leaving empty space between us. 
You’ve played me beautifully. 
And I’ve bathed, naked, in the music. 
Now I’m here. 
Still and silent 
within the chaos of all that I am. 
I’m finding my way – my own way. 
I let the need of you fall with my tears,
Leaving me able to see all the love I didn’t ask for. 
I’m alive, you know. 
Fully alive without your light. 
Fully alive within my darkness. 
Love, Michaela ‘Z’ (your moon babe)