Your imprint lasts forever.
Move or stay. You're here forever.
Over the course of my adult life, I’ve often been asked why I move around so much. At times it was said in judgement (“oh, can’t you just settle down??), admiration (“wow, you’re so brave”) and curiosity (“where to next?”). I actually don’t think I’ve moved all that much but yes, I have — much more than the average bear.
Why? There are human reasons — and there are soul reasons. To read deeper contemplations on freedom and stability, read my trilogy, Love. Sex. Tarot.
I live in America as a modern pioneer. Free, free, free.
It was only 50 years ago that women were able to get a credit card. 100 years for the right to vote. I’m taking FULL advantage of the fact I live in a free country with thousands of miles to drive without armed militias blocking roads, beautiful free nature to explore (even if I don’t leave the acreage much) and that I am a free woman. As much as I certainly take it for granted, I also understand how the Wheel can turn — and it is easy to forget how young America is. We are still the early pioneers for future generations of Americans.
I love this country. Every bit of it. I’m proud to be an American and happily chose to incarnate here. As much as I’ve travelled internationally — I have no further desire to visit anywhere beyond these borders. There is so much to see right here before I leave.
I leave my imprint in every town. So do you.
There are many places that have called on a deep level, though my human self doesn’t really understand. Seriously — I get out of the car EVERY TIME, look around and say, Where the F am I? How did I get here?
The area I live in now was lacking a spark, big time. They needed my light and within the time I’ve been here, most of the things I desired have started to arrive. The irony is that I’m about to leave — but very happy that I helped envision good things for those who follow.
I do it on an energetic level. I love doing that. You do it, too — whether you realize it or not. Your energy — thoughts, words and actions — leave an imprint.
There are many drive-by experiences — but only a few destiny areas.
There are only two places that have clearly beckoned, long before moving there: NYC and New England. There is one more where I’ll eventually leave this Earth — and yes, I am aware of the region, though I’ve never visited and the move will not happen for another decade or so (the state isn’t ready for me). Plus, there are other places to explore with my partner before we permanently settle, though we’ll have a second home elsewhere for family visits.
Yes, settle! I’ll laugh and say to those misguided ghosts, Hey! Guess what? I’ve finally settled down — in my timeline. Not yours, baby.
When you learn to trust yourself, you won’t question the vision.
How do you know? you might ask. Did you consult a location chart? Tarot?
No. No one told me about the final state. I create my reality here — and my energy vibrates at a certain frequency when I contemplate the end of my human existence. It’s the frequency of certainty. I talk to my future self way down the road and have seen a vision of the property I’ll own with my partner. Sure, there are plenty of twists and turns — I welcome the adventure— but there are certain vantage points I simply know, even if the square footage or type of wood or property slightly differs from what I’ve seen.
I knew at 12 that someday I would live in NYC while staring up at the skyscrapers in wonder — and kept a pair of plastic chopsticks that I used for years to remember. I manifested NYC through every bite — and bonus: I became proficient with chopsticks.
New England called years later while in NYC and I consistently wore a grey t-shirt with the name of the state until physically moving there.
Chopsticks and t-shirts. Who said manifesting has to be hard?
All of the other towns and cities were drive-bys, explorations or simply rest. Even the “bad idea” at the time was a great experience for my soul. That’s where I reframe. Every writer needs grist for the mill!
I once moved because of the thrill, fear of intimacy or simply running out of money. Now I do it for the experience and to meet old friends.
Every place holds an old friend or two. An enemy. A family member. Fellow soldier. Shopkeeper. Bartender. Brother monk. Scribe. Guide. Cowboy. Beloved wife. Husband. Teacher. Soulmate. I am drawn to them again — to settle scores, to say hello, to love, to grieve, to run away like Ugh, you again. No thanks or I’m so, so glad you’re still here!
Landscapes are old friends — certainly some scarred, some even more beautiful. I’ll drift down certain hills and my heart will seize over the beauty, the certainty that this was not the first time. Later, I’ll confirm with my pendulum and get more of the story of why I felt such deep resonance.
Another hello, another glimpse, another imprint.
I’ll always be here, in some form or another. So will you.