personal, writing


I called up a friend I haven’t spoken to in years when I found out she had scoliosis. A fellow tattooer from Detroit, we were both in a documentary together. We met when she came to Cincinnati like eight years ago, since then I’ve traveled to Detroit a few times. She tattooed the scissors on my left arm, with the banner that says “SHARP!”

So much life lived since we last spoke. I’m really happy to reconnect with her, and hope to work together more this year. The love never went anywhere. Nothing happened between us, her family grew, I moved around. We didn’t purposely stop talking to each other, just didn’t have reason to stay in touch outside of social media.

I sent her a before and after pic of my spine curvature and was telling her about how I did it with the foam roller and binaural beats. She told me how she started working in the medical field, and has a great chiropractor that she really trusts. Her chiropractor was explaining how scoliosis affects other organs, the slightest movement or pinch can cause an avalanche of discomfort or pain. Organs can start to break down, since the spine is the neural passageway that links the mind to the rest of the body. The entire network of nerve cells is compromised by the misalignment, which affects how nerve impulses are transmitted. The spine being the operating panel for the body’s entire nervous system, scoliosis can cause anxiety and emotional imbalance. The nervous system processes and interprets sensory input, determining our ability to respond appropriately. The brain and spine are so connected, they are one. The brain is the flower or seed, the vertebrae is the stem.

When she started getting adjustments, she said she was crying all the time, and the slightest thing would set her off. It makes you feel so vulnerable, I said and she agreed. At first, I wasn’t sure what was happening, I was just trying to make it so my lower back disc wouldn’t feel like they were pinching. It was causing muscle spasms. I started the process of straightening my spine during winter of 2015 going into 2016. This explains my erratic behavior during that time.

I wasn’t sure if my emotional pain was caused by physical pain or vice versa but I was spazzing on everyone. It was so bad that I was walking around hunched over at a 90º angle, throwing my shoulders forward to stretch the length of my back, as well as dragging my back down stairs, pressing pressure points on the ledge. With the foam roller, I adjusted my spine continuously, and it changed overtime, fusing in its new position. From the shape of the foam roller, I was able to push any part of the protruding curve into a straight axis. When this process begins, the vertebrae is somewhat dislodged, and you have to continuously pop and stretch the vertebra discs so they do not return to its misshapen default position. Proper postures and yoga poses and binaural beats remedy this.

This also makes sense as why I was so reactive and easily triggered by things, bringing up the past as if it had just happened. My lower back stored memories from 15 years ago. My chest and sternum was holding memories from 10 years ago. My neck, which is straightening now, contains the programming from the past five years. These are the memory timelines that are activated by where I feel the cracks and pops on my spine. The chakra system has been an excellent tool in diagnosing and balancing myself.

I’ve been mainly working on the spine but my hips, shoulders, ribcage, and abdomen have all adjusted. All of these are much more symmetrical, especially in the abdomen. I may have gotten taller. Emotionally, I’m more stable and less extreme. I don’t say that my nerves are bad anymore. Change the inside to change the outside. What strikes the shell does not budge the pearl inside.

I must be gentle and patient with myself as I now recognize that I was undergoing a deep recovery process. I realized it when I first saw my updated x-ray (2017) but after talking with Alyssa, I learned that the psycho-spiritual aspect of healing involved toxic purging, re-integrated abandoned emotions, unexpected breakdown, feeling all the way vulnerable, stripped of defenses. Thank goodness it happened when it did and not a moment later, more organs would have suffered. I’m so grateful for this new insight that explains the chaos and confusion of mental breakdowns from a couple of years ago. I didn’t see what was happening on the inside at the time but I now get to live inside this new body that endured the hard work of necessary transformation.


want no smoke

i think i don’t smoke anymore.
not everyday, not every week.
eventually, not even socially.

i don’t mind if people smoke around me, it’s me smoking alone that does the most damage.

i go on breaks all the time, but never longer than a week. my little one who stops by to sweep and stack papers suggested i go the whole month of december without smoking, since christmas is god’s birthday. to show god i can do it. that’s reason enough for me to try. they say kids are impressionable but the reverse is also true for me.

so i haven’t bought any or smoked by myself in over a week, but finally did over the weekend to reward myself and prepare myself to draw. i could afford it, and i deserved it. but i never got started on the drawing once i got high. there wasn’t enough of me in my body left after i smoked. once your body has detoxed and gone a while without smoking, you really feel it when it hits your system again. the herb has an inertia to it, it’s hard to quit when you’re already high but it takes some adjusting, once you have gone a while without it.

there’s a lot i want to do with my time, an enormous amount of clarity and mental focus i require of my brain and body, in order for it to do what i am here for. if i ask myself where my last three years went and why my production has dwindled, i must honestly answer: it’s the weed. so far, i’ve like it, but it’s no way to live. i know it’s always accessible so there will be times where it is hard, but i can’t do what everyone else is doing. the quickest get rich scheme i know, is to quit smoking.

i’m trying not to put too much pressure or restriction on myself, because then it still brings attention to the problem. the goal is for the NEED for it to shed. to find an empowering alternative. to delay the gratification. to not get stuck in a stress cycle. smoking doesn’t solve any problems, it just delays symptoms that are mostly mental. as i was smoking most recently, i wondered, how was i doing this everyday? anything you do daily produces a gigantic build-up, so what do i have to show besides physical deterioration and chronic fadedness? i want to be sharp and bright and pure and efficient. i had it in my mind that i was taking temporary break, and going to reward myself with it later, but now it is no longer a viable reward. the reward for not smoking can’t be smoking. the reward for not smoking is the clarity and control in the absence of addiction or dependency itself.

the weed itself contains spirits, the spirit of inspiration and also that of sloth. i think that the plant was originally banned because it made people free thinkers. people get high and start questioning what they were taught, what they eat, what their minds are truly capable of, government conspiracies, etc. in the same manner that the weed will make a person rebel against the powers that be, it also makes a person rebel against their own priorities. just like any crop or flower, the plant has to adapt in order to seduce humans into furthering its existence. so to get high is to host the spirit of weed. 

after getting my wrap, a lady in the store looked at me and said “she don’t even look like she smoke.” which means my face and lips and eyes changed after not smoking for a week. i still want to a little bit. i still might. no matter what, i won’t let it get in the way of things. more discipline, more freedom. 

astrology, future developments, personal


November 30th 2018:

i am agonizing agonizing agonizing procrastinating triggered triggered triggered, my chest feels tight and my breath is slowing as i am typing these words. i’ve been hyperventilating and letting out slow screams trying to make myself cry so i feel better. this is not a cry for help it’s just part of the process, i am supremely confident i will be ok i am confident in my abilities i am confident in my abilities i am confident in my abilities. my success is important to myself and others. i am just as valuable as i have ever been. these are the words i need to hear so i tell them to myself until i believe it, these are the words i need to see so i spell them out on here so i can read it, i see it before anyone else does and once i decide it is good enough, i hit publish. by the time it is new to the public, it is old to me, the final push is the commitment to consequences, projections, following up, criticism, or most horrifying: praise. (just kidding, i still enjoy praise. just not in front of everyone)

for over a year i’ve had “launch online shop” on my to-do list and it didn’t move and i didn’t work on it because it’s one of those things that have fifty to a hundred smaller to-dos inside of it. december 1st was the deadline i gave myself and that’s tomorrow.

the down is as low as the up is high and i was on a productivity high yesterday afternoon but then in the evening i felt very lost and lonely, could not shake this fragmented fog of failure. stacked up against the memories of all the other things i started and didn’t finished. it feels like losing ground, treading water, the fear of being defined by your flaws and failures. it’s an unquenchable hunger. normally i would get high but i didn’t allow myself to. i don’t want to run from the pain or do things to make myself feel temporarily better but cause long term regret. i got to reroute my serotonin supply. i won’t try to escape the discomfort necessary to achieve my desire. how is making your dreams come true so dreadful?

after i wrote something hard and honest, i said “making art doesn’t feel like busting a nut anymore, it feels like giving birth.” and it’s still true. the labor pains, the sickness, the commitment, the postpartum sense of loss and new identity to adjust to. the first push that begins a whole new entity with it’s own mind and moods. i embrace it because it means that what i’m making means more. 

i’ve ran an online shop before, i know i can do this because i have done it before. i want to do it better than i did before because i have more than before. i have more freedom, resources, knowledge, stability and strength than three years ago. it can take a long time to perfect a product, multiple trials and botched recipes and updates. the entrepreneur has to take time to prepare to profit. it’s only six items with short inventory runs of each product. not even as big of a deal as i’m making it out to be.

it’s harder than it’s ever been, i texted myles about it. he said “because we’re getting older and there feels like there is less space for ‘practice'””. psychological issues can become more pronounced in adulthood. a grown-up develops addictions and relies on vices in the same manner that a toddler wants their blanket or teddybear. you have to stop and take the rocks out of your backpack every now and then. 

the next thing i need to do is to finish writing a press release. so easy. probably about the same amount of effort and energy to write this shit. why this shit instead of that shit then?

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ [ stopping point. a day passes. mreeuh takes a walk to calm her thoughts. goes grocery shopping. confides in her family and old friend. has some red wine and cheese pizza. decides to postpone the launch. says fuck it to the stress and is highly amused at her ability to get her own self worked up over nothingsomethingeverythinganything herself? ]

December 1st:

emotional simultaneity. feeling multiple ways at once. excited, stressed, pressured, destined, disgusted, self-important, self-sabotaging, self-aware, embarrassed, transforming, transforming, transforming. 

realizing i have a incompletion trigger. let’s call it that instead of impostor syndrome for now. a trigger is a trauma wound, a land mine, a pitfall portal, something that reminds you of all of the other things just like it. how do you heal a thing like that? i love to make things but then i stop right before it’s done. i’ve done it so much it that it feels like it’s just how i am but that has to change. i know i’m not alone in this, so many people do this with books, food, clothes. buying new things, overlooking what they have. i have to look inside. there is no need to go outside. 

what does the hater in my head have to say about my hopes and dreams? the bastard whispers that people will say that i’m copying someone else, force-following footsteps, trying to be like someone more successful than me, similar in business model and industry but vastly different in style, execution, creativity, attitude. “damn i guess tattooing isn’t working out?” fuck you. of course no one has actually said this.  i haven’t launched yet, i haven’t even revealed anything to criticize. it is my own expectation, my own limiting belief beneath the sabotage. that is one perspective but another is that i am the perfect person to execute my vision because of my previous involvement in assisting other companies, going after potential competitors. if i don’t do this, i’ll remain unfulfilled, envious and resentful of everyone doing something similar, feeling like i could do better, trapped by fear with no one to blame but myself.

my procrastination led me back to my birth chart. i started researching my saturn aspects, the eighth house. i’m at the cusp of my saturn return. saturn rules bones, authority, father figure, time, karma. it is the task master, whistle blower, custodian, disciplinarian. serious and mature, the saturn return demands thorough assessment and necessary transformation. because it handles karma, it also deals destiny. 

the birth chart can be studied for a lifetime. because saturn rules the bones and has malefic aspects to my sun and jupiter, i interpreted that as the reason for my scoliosis. last year, i began straightening my spine and it’s significantly straightened. because saturn represents a father figure, i figured my father issues were correlated by my saturn placement. two years ago i wrote about it and stopped telling the story. the birth chart doesn’t change but the person grows so the understanding of the birth chart can be reinterpreted with deepened insight as the chart owner matures and masters lessons.

saturn in aquarius in the eighth house. what the hell does that mean. i spent two days and one night ruminating on it. what is saturn, what is aquarius, what is the eighth house, what are all the possible combination of these, what does it all mean, here, now? the eighth house is the house of sex, death, rebirth, inheritances. here is the best article i found on it.  

i have at least three main nemeses in this life, enemies with enduring hatred, once sweet relationships turned sour. grudges that borderline obsession that got so out of hand that the initial reasons why became distorted. characters committed to my undoing, going out of their way to make my life harder, lying on me, blaming me for their actions, obsessed with me but trying to make it seem as if i am obsessed with them, which resulted in me becoming obsessed. i don’t care about them as much as i am bothered by their antics, but sometimes my compassion kicks in and then i do. victim playing, gaslighting, reaction-baiting narcissists who will stoop to the lowest lows. they’ve tested me to my limits and brought out the worst in me. they expose my shadows, they’ve scarred my psyche. they are the stepmother of the hater in my head. the wars we’ve waged have made me who i am. they have all tried to do something to interfere with my livelihood, even my freedom, slandered my character and reputation in attempt to control how strangers see me. they are all aquarians. one a former lover turned stalker, one a ex-friend and sister, most recently my upstairs neighbor. but even i ignore them or a relationship ends, if i don’t understand the underlying issues, the situation can reappear in another person. i have a karmic cycle to close. if i stay there, it would be by my choice and that’s not what i choose. if someone was born late january to mid february, that’s a red flag for me. only exceptions i can think of are chris and natalie. 

what am i saying about myself if my saturn is in aquarius and saturn is discipline and karma and eighth house is legacy and inheritance and other people’s shit? how can i make an enemy of aquarians without denying the aspect of myself that relates to structure and discipline? it can be an excuse or it can be fuel. ego death, ego death, ego death. career-wise it makes total sense i am a tattooer. the seriousness of the craft, permanently modifying other people’s bodies. aquarian energy is that of deviation and eccentricity so it also makes sense that i am professionally subversive, even in the industry of tattooing, i don’t fit the profile of “serious tattooer” because i do so many other things. i’m a disgrace by the standards of more than one cultural limitation. i am here to pioneer the new, with nods to the ancient. while understanding that not all projects need to see the light of day, i want to heal my incompletion trigger. i want to finish and release and keep getting better.

saturn in aquarius means i could invent new technology or champion social justice rights. aquarians are independent so in the eighth house it means i don’t ask or receive help from others well. an elusive genius with a schizophrenic work ethic. saturn spends about 2.5 years in a sign so it’s not just me but everyone born in 1991 and beyond. it makes sense that so many people my age want to be their own boss and not work for anyone, equipped with the technological savviness of making the internet work for you.

with saturn in aquarius, its difficult to define what is work and what is play. the gratification of hard work versus the enjoyment of leisure become overlapped. we need our wants. the craft is burden and blessing. the calling fosters fulfillment and inadequacy. the procrastination is productive. the progression can be pointless. go on a far enough tangent and it loops back into the bigger picture. 

i want to give my life to my work.
i want my work to expand my life.
i want my expanded life to improve my work.
i want my improved work to archive my life.
i want my archived life to inspire the world.
i want the inspired world to find their work.
i want their improved work to inspire my life.
i want to live my inspired life, working.

taking a trip around the galaxy to make myself feel better inside my body. my standards are high but my expectations are low, taking the scenic route to simplicity with overthought conundrums, i work myself up just to laugh later.

personal, writing

root / work

“They called her a witch because she could heal herself”

is how the saying goes. With that in mind, I once said “A witch is only as good as her ability to heal herself” to a sniffling sister while bringing her a steaming cup of antibiotic tea. Boil a cup of water with some chopped ginger, add apple cider vinegar, honey, fresh squeezed lemon, turmeric, cayenne pepper. Surprisingly sweet and tart from the lemon and honey. The spice from the pepper drowns out the vinegar and turmeric without taking away the apple. It tastes like a lot of things at once, earthy, spice, sweet, citrus. If the mucus is heavy, add garlic with the ginger.

On the 29th of october, I popped my calf muscle from jumping up too fast to answer the door. Limping hard for days but healing quickly, I slept a lot and was frustrated by my lack of mobility. I couldn’t put any weight on the ball of my foot for two weeks. and I walk A LOT. I know the quickest route to get anywhere downtown. Hopping along, I did things to ease the pain like massage it and put ice on it but only so much could be done to speed up the healing process. I ate a lot of plant protein and things with vitamin C, after reading that is how the body produces collagen. I left a lot of things on the floor. Everything felt like an excruciating task. Time felt like it stood still for me while rushing fast for everyone else. After all, it was a torn muscle and muscles don’t grow back overnight, not as easy as blasting cold symptoms out your system with a hot mug of roots and spices.

The root chakra deals with survival, identity, the fight or flight mechanism, reproductive organs, lower half of the body. It is located at the base of the pelvis, its color is red. If the sacral chakra was Mars, the root would be the Sun. The root chakra contains the source of the kundalini energy that travels upwards. It develops from birth to the age of one. The first of the seven major chakras in the body, it sits at the bottom of the spine and top of the upper body: the very center of the human anatomy. The foundation for the second floor and the roof for the basement, where we carry most of our weight and get rid of waste.


I operate from the belief that all things physical stem from nonmaterial thought and intention, and that there is no such thing as coincidence. The small thing explains the larger thing. Physical illness or injury is spiritual first, since the body is the temporary home for your soul. So depending on the body part, system, or condition, there is some symbolic meaning or corresponding significance relating to your life journey that your body is forcing you to pay attention to. You are where and how you need to be, in whatever condition you are in, and it is your sole responsibility to manage the physical health and wellbeing of your vehicle. The big picture is made up of smaller versions of itself repeating unto infinity. The past and future is made of millions of nows.

So somewhere in this time-space-continuum despite my time-sensitive demands, my leg popped. Universe wanted me to sit the fuck down. At first I was in denial about it and still moving and grooving, limping and hopping through my errands. Rikki told me I need to take a bath so I did, threw in a bunch of drops of essential oils, a bundle of dried chamomile, a pinch of activated charcoal, pink himalayan salt. Can’t believe I don’t have any epsom salt. Anyway, it relaxed my muscles to the point the pressure I had been putting on it caught up to me and I couldn’t walk the next day or two.

With the right intention and level of surrender, medicine is everywhere. Water, heat, time. The time it takes to heat water. Relaxation. Touch. Rest. These are the things that some injuries require, not constant picking or stitches or casts or crutches. Also I could have used a crutch, but I didn’t want to go to the hospital.

The root chakra governs the lower half of the body. So a leg injury would most affect and be affected by the root chakra, root chakra work is what would be required to heal the leg. If my calf muscle didn’t strain, I would not have had the time to slow down, sit down, scrub off the dead skin and get right within before upscaling, turning my attention to my surroundings and not my innermost being.


At the same time I was was trying to tend to business while limping hard, I ran into a guy I kicked it and hit it off with before, at a friends place. Enthusiastic about what I was working on, excited to have crossed paths with him, disregarding the shooting pain in my right leg, we exchanged numbers. I hopped along.

The root chakra rules the reproductive organs. He seems to be attracted to me for physical and nonphysical reasons. He can tell I’m smart and likes how I think. He pays attention to what I say I want. I like him, and I like being liked by him, I want to know him better while allowing him to do the same.

First impression made him like how I think, but the more we talked, what became clear was what I think about. I surprised myself with how much I talked about past loves, failed relationships, life-altering traumas. Not all of them, not in great length or detail, but enough to portray myself fraught with issues and baggage. Blame it on Venus retrograde or being a Taurus, I sure know how to hold onto things.

For so long I have felt defined by my capacity to love, I didn’t realize how much it made me emotionally and psychologically dependent on the memories of those who significantly changed how I love, whether through pain or ease. I want to be more than what I’ve survived. Perhaps there is some wisdom in using mistakes as a manual.

The root chakra deals with survival. To balance it, enables you to let go of what you do not need.

I know I have this thinking pattern of self-deprecation. Sometimes it’s as blatant as my sense of humor or as subconscious as self-sabotage. Why is my response to his attraction, to display aspects of myself that may make me unattractive, despite how true? I want to find out if it’s real so I give him the real. But what’s real doesn’t always have to be brutal, and flaw doesn’t make anything more real. I think my real self is somewhere between the perfection of outside projection, and the bad bags I carry. These memories in my shelf have no expiration date but are useless in recipes. Maybe not totally, since it’s still being served. It’s almost as if I take his interest as a challenge, to demystify myself. He finds me intriguing, so I maybe I murder that intrigue, because it puts me on a pedestal that could turn into a cage? It’s not about him. It’s narcissistic. It’s me recalling things I’ve survived while he learns the survivor.

Working with the root chakra comes in handy when one is feeling insecure, frightened, disconnected from your body or the world around you. physical or psychological paralysis can be mended by tending to this chakra.

Why do I resurrect the ghosts I’ve worked so hard to banish and get away from? I endured and survived toxic relationships and I’m not there anymore, I won. What did I win, if those hollow trophies take up space? And how can I be both winner and victim? Winning victim? Yes these things happened, sure they are a part of my story, but I am shaped because of the pieces of me that have been chipped away, or am I the ice or clay or wood or stone that is retained? I perhaps need to create a separate sculpture entirely, to satisfy myself into the new identity of someone who made something of it, since a mere retelling of story won’t satisfy it. some sort of kinesthetic conquering through creativity. I don’t want to be the bitter storm that dampens a sweet sky, even if it is all just air, heat, water.

To some extent, that’s how life is, we are shaped by our traumas and tragedies, assigned our personal demons to slay, with challenges to not become them despite how dirty the fight is. Perhaps it’s just a part of getting to know someone, specifically me. The process of dis-identification comes with maturity and evolution, like a shed reptile skin. Eventually you just push yourself out without knowing how it’s going to look when you do. The triggers that don’t trigger you anymore. Once fully processed, you don’t need to tell the stories of the shots that set the triggers happened in the first place. What you share, and when, is so much a part of intimacy that it’s damn near the whole point.

The positive emotions associated with the root chakra are security, loyalty, sense of community, while its negative emotions are fear, prejudice, blind faith.

Even if I tell these stories, I don’t want to introduce myself with them, I don’t want these experiences to define me, not anymore. My baggage does not make me interesting, I am interesting despite my baggage, not because of. It’s like I am trying to sabotage his interest while at the same time enjoying it, testing him. I need to know that the interest is real, and if it can be spoiled through finding out the worst parts of me, so let it be. I don’t want him to function under a delusion or illusion. Nor do I want to delude myself with a script that needs to be retired, and characters that have moved on. I have forgiven, but have I detached?

The base of the spine contains untapped infinite energy potential.

These emotional issues may be the underlying reason why I feel stuck in life, at least right now. My attachment to the script is the termite colony underneath the foundation. Sure I stay busy but am I progressing? I don’t know what confronting and releasing the negative thoughts I have inherited is going to look like, what that sculpture will be, what that recipe will taste like. In the meantime, I’m eating squash and potatoes and beets and carrots, meditating on the bright red orb between my hips, pushing upward, opening and closing, while my limp inevitably fades away. My intention is to achieve balance and alignment with my desires, get to a place where I perceive the world as a place safe enough to not wear scars as badges, and abundant enough to not have to carry old things. And even when I do revisit, I won’t feel shame around it. Through time, relaxation and touch, the tender sores of emotional loss become not numb but a part of the body, carrying energy from one part to another. You’ll limp until you walk.