El Renacamiento de la Reina del Corazon

Vino de las estrellas
Tan Bella es Ella
Tan Bella es Ella Como sola Ella puede ser su misma
Se Coronó su misma
La Reina del corazón
Tan Bella es Ella

She came from the stars
So beautiful is she
So beautiful is she like only she can be of herself
She crowns herself
The Queen of the Heart
So beautiful is she

Song the Shaman sang to me


The Queen of Bohemia went into new territory today. She went up the mountain and then over it. She started scaling a new mountain. And finally she paused, there was a valley, and a the gate before the next spread of mountains. That was far enough of a new beginning. And it is a new beginning.

She lifted her fist to the mountain and spoke the song that the Shaman gave her, and she believed it with all her heart, all her body. “I am good, kind and beautiful Queen,” she said. “I am beautiful of heart and deserving of goodness. And may I be of service to children and to people. I am so grateful for everything” And then she walked all the way back, her body feeling wonderful, relieved, her heart aflame with joy. Her rebirth in an ocean of conviction she feels down to her core, and that is the most important thing.

Last Friday night in Boulder I had an ayahuasca ceremony with someone trained in Peru. I did the grandmother ceremony, which was done all night and in the darkness. I did not realize that I had done the grandfather ceremony of San Pedro years earlier in 1994 in Ecuador. I was with a boyfriend who was in the Peace Corp. You went into town and knocked on the door of this little shack. To the guy who answered the door you said the code, “I want to rent some horses.”

When I was in Ecuador, we ingested it at night. Daytime would have been better. My boyfriend had a bad trip. He revealed the grief of his mother dying at age 9. I baby-sat him and I don’t remember much else except the scent of jasmine that filled the night air. A woman at this current ceremony said, “The grandfather gives you exactly what you need. You’re a mother! You needed to mother him during tht trip!” So I realize I mother a lot of children.

As I prepared for the Boulder experience by fasting, I was a little nervous about the experience and having to confront yet another unknown demon of my unconscious that needed some light shed on it. I was ready for it. I’ve been battling one thing after another for most of my life. Bring it on.

The shaman asked us to to say our intentions out loud. Mine was for healing, to remove any remaining obstacles, and clarity. As well as whatever the plant consciousness wanted me to experience.

After being called by the shaman to drink the very bitter ayahuasca that was hard to get down, the first thing I noticed was the humming in my head, the music I heard. It was like the rainforest. And I remember the rainforest sounds. I remember the way the shaman sang his disconjointed notes, shook a rattle, moved his cigarette in the dark like a bird. 

I remember being in the Amazonian basin of Ecuador, four hours from Tena by motorized canoe. This semi-aculturated tribe grew coffee and we visited a Peace Corp nurse. There was a Shaman there, who said there was a medicine in a vine. I was interested, but not enough (SADLY!) to meet him back then. He kind of lurked in the background, doing his own thing. In my periferal. The nurse told me a story that there was once a really sick girl, and the visiting doctor couldn’t help her. She was dying. They said call the Shaman, and the Shaman healed her.

It is the belief and the ritual that healed her, I believe. We believe in what happens to us during a ceremony. It’s an experience. A shift in our otherwise mundane and profane worlds. And that shift and feeling in the body is so great you are not the same person you started with. Our society doesn’t offer much of a ritual. The old rites don’t give us any meaning for our modern problems.

So at the beginning of the journey my head started popping and the sounds of the birds made me think of my totem animal, the Raven. Bird is my animal. My symbol and spirit guide. My heart sprouted two wings and La Paloma Blanca said, “Sing your Heart’s Song.”

It was opening my heart, opening my chest and singing my song. Not anybody else’s, but mine. In my vision, I eventually came to a rooftop of a house, and out of the chimney appeared my mother’s face, which was immediately replaced by this witch puppet. This puppet was purchased in Santa Fe, New Mexico in 1970 when we lived in Albuquerque. It’s a piece of Mexican folkart and part of a slew of characters, like La Dama a pretty girl, El Borrachero, a drunkard, and La Bruja, the Witch. My mother hung it on the front door of our house growing up. It was like a talisman, and it really looked like her, exactly like the Queen/witch in Sleeping Beauty.

Then the witch turned pretty, as if it were I. She showed up to a little girl in a suburban neighborhood and said, “This world needs some enchantment!” And explained to her how she’d take her under her wing and apprentice, they’d work invisibly, bringing kindness and magic to the world, brightening everybody’s modern, mechanical and meaningless lives with ancient rites.

In my vision, then I traveled back to early, early childhood. Albuquerque. Four years old. My toe getting stuck in a tricycle and bleeding. My mother’s abuse and the painful words she told us. The frightening screaming and hitting and pounding our self-esteem into the ground. Her bag lady clothing, used, torn and ripped. Her unkempt hair. Our worthlessness, undeservingness. The witch.

I remembered little things, like a doll named Rosebud who smelled like roses.
I remembered kindergarten at Heatherwood Elementary in Boulder, Colorado. 1971. Standing in line. A boy, Jed Maletz, just turned around and punched me in the stomach for no reason. He turned back around again. Nobody saw it. Nobody did anything. I just doubled up in pain. Why did that happen? For what reason? Did I deserve that? I suffered in silence. And the class moved on.

I remembered the third grade. Playing four square at Douglass Elementary. Some bully fifth grade girls stole our ball. Narrowed me and another girl into a corner. Saying things to us like we were ugly, stupid. I was so bold to try and punch the ball out of the girl’s hand to get it back. But it failed. She grew even more angrier. She hurt me, and when I cried she said, “You deserved it!”

What did I deserve? To suffer? Do people deserve to suffer? How I felt I was undeserving of happiness, of fulfillment, of letting my star shine. So put down by many, so feeling shameful. Did I bring on my life’s problems expecting suffering as all I deserve?

Then that all changed. My thoughts were that I was beautiful, that I am deserving, that I am good and worthy and talented. Storytime Yoga is beautiful. It has great value and merit. I deserve happiness with my King, to have all my wildest dreams come true. Why not reach for it? Why not step into it. You deserve it! You’ve worked hard for it. You are a good person with a good heart. Of course you can be fulfilled and happy! Take it!! Love and be happy! Serve as the Mother with the Storytime Yoga Children’s Mission. Stand in your glory!

The Shaman called us up one by one for individual Limpias. He sang the song above to me in Spanish, and it was profound to hear that. As the Queen, crowning herself. So beautiful is she, like only she can be. She crowns herself I took that as my need for self-love, that assertion and conviction that I was worthy, deserving, beautiful and my work great. That it was OK to let your star shine, to sing your song to the world. That you don't need the outside world to validate your self worth. It comes from within. And that I was to spend my life with the King as my partner in love and happiness, travel, do good work together. Things I have dreamed of my whole life. The shaman then also drove energy into me with his hands, for me to be a little selfish, have boundaries, put energy into me too, not only for others, taking care of others at my expense, as I have my whole life. We spoke in Spanish, and being rather rusty, I was amazingly fluent. After the singing and the personal ritual the Shaman said to me, “Now do you believe that you are not ugly, truly surely from this experience?”

“Yes,” I said. I truly believed it.

Afterwards I thought of other people, my ex, my late husband, my children, old boyfriends. My father and his tight shoulders. To let that all go. To ask forgiveness from them and healing for them. Everything happens for a reason. To be grateful for our difficulties for they bring the most profound results on the other end. You just have to hang on and show up, take the roller coster ride for its ups and down.

Then the vision subsided. It was enough. Things were normal again. My mind raced and raced, but my body was so tired. I did not sleep the whole night until the ceremony was over in the dawn.

In the morning we had garlic lemon water to re-alkalize the body. We talked and ate. I was finished and needed to get back to my children by the later afternoon, but people were going to continue with San Pedro and do the grandfather ceremony.

One thing too, is that you vomit a lot during the journey. You hear others vomiting all night long. It’s quite intense, but also very purging. I vomited so hard sometimes I peed my pants! But it was cleansing and I got all that negativity and old crap out. Whenever fear came up, it usually came up with the feeling of sickness. It made you stay present, listen to the Shaman, the singing, the present moment and release stuff.

And now a week later things have shifted so much. I’ve integrated the experience and cemented it with plans the King and I have made for the future, and with long walks in nature. I am relieved, less tense. It’s wonderful to have somebody in your life. Somebody who has your back. Somebody who you have his back for too. His heart.

I did have my obstacles removed, my demon confronted. Only I was surprised that he demon was so gentle. I was only afraid of myself. Of my own capacity for love, just for myself. To love myself. That can heal everything and shifts the whole world. It is not a terrible place where I will get pain, but a joyous one with expectation of beauty. And it’s not something that happens with just talking about it. You have to have that kind of an experience. It’s a psychological and somatic experience. It was the ritual. One ayahuasca ceremony can save you decades of therapy. A vision is that powerful.

I don’t wake up in anxiety anymore. Just love and gratitude. Excitement too, because the vision was so clear, so profound. It was guidance I never received my whole life. It’s still in my body that feeling of love and joy and happiness. Whenever I feel those old doubts that creep up, the feeling instantly replaces them.

I show up at the Everyday Contenment class at Shambhala Center on Tuesday mornings. It feels good to sit and meditate in the safety and peace of the present moment. It's good to be among friends and community. I like what the instructor said, that meditation is like putting your children on the school bus. Your thoughts will be gone for a little while so you can meditate, but they will be back! Don't worry! You'll see them again, so just make this time for quiet meditation!

I met with the therapist at the Mental Health center. I told her everything. She was happy for me, helped me to cement it in the outer world. I’m working on getting health insurance so that I can have my own therapy, and so that somebody else who is down on their luck and in need of help can receive it. I said I was so grateful for their help. Whom do you turn to if there is such despair? Thank god for Social Services. That’s what makes a society great. That we care for everybody, without judgment regardless of income or circumstances. That every human being has inherent worth and dignity and deserves help and respect. Sadly these services have been cut way back. Whole centers closing in East Boulder County.

I don’t know what’s wrong with this country. Where is its heart? It’s scary about what happened with the Supreme Court ruling today. I’m very scared for this country. The machine, the artificial body, the CORPORATION, has taken over for sure. And the people allow it! Maybe it’s the fluoride. Where is the capacity for outrage? We are not the UCA, the United Corporations of America, and it’s eating everything in sight, most of all your rights and democracy and freedom. Welcome to the Machine! Ruling with money and power to influence campaigns and candidates. The propaganda machine for the masses. For what? Alienated consumers and the machine of expansion. The movie Avatar is a perfect metaphor for this. The Father machine killed the Mother Earth and its creeping around colonizing again with its path of destruction and inhumanity. We live in this stifled matrix of society, way out of balance with nature, and it’s self destructing.

But I think there is going to be a Great Awakening. The Goddess is back. She’s showing up in green technology, medical marijuana and a return to organic gardening, compassion for people in Haiti. The Machine will Stop, and soon. Things are breaking down fast. But that’s OK. For the greatest amount of darkness means there is just as much light as its opposite. That means it’s a great time to be an artist, thinker, humanitarian activist in this age, because your number has been called. The Journey has begun. It’s Showtime! Because you can’t stop the heart. You can’t stop life and you can’t stop the soul. There’s a rebirth going on, so get ready!

So is the Renaissance of the Queen of the Heart, AKA the Queen of Bohemia, who cleans her own house and really loves the King.

And Still the Heart Dances

The Queen is fasting after realizing that the sludge of holidays needed a bigger kick at leaving the kingdom, and she took Sergeant Pepe for a walk. Moving in rhythm with her body once again up the mountain, up, up she goes, forgetting the mind, just being with the body. She was, however, a bit distracted, lots going on in the castle and its interior realms, workings and people and she didn’t like the cold so decided to turn around. Sergeant Pepe resisted, pulled her on. The Queen did continue up the mountain, reminded that she had forgotten to proclaim herself. “Thank you dear Pepe!” she said. Pepe winked.

Finally at the top she stood there, looked at the mountain and said, “I am the Queen of Bohemia, and it’s happening! I can do it myself! I believe in myself! I see a solution!” That and with a lot of great people in my life I can do anything!” And then she walked down again with Pepe leading the way.

The Queen has a very fine court. HER court, no more dreadful TRAFFIC courts. She is driving the speed limit, and she has to admit, it feels good to slow down. But the Queen still had to rev it up it a good 10 MPH in certain spots in the country where she rolls her eyes and can’t figure out how possibly on earth anybody with a brain would post it that slow and which village nitwit was it?

The Queen has been gathering the HEALTHY advisers around her and they assist her in her decisions. And just by waiting and breathing in and breathing our rather than jumping to impulsive actions or freaking out and panicking and grasping in terror, she realizes that she can make it through the tension and come to some good solutions as she gathers the information over time from advisers and makes a decision all on her own. Why Queen Elizabeth would be jealous.

The village people are freezing in the rental cottage on Speer and want out of their lease early. The Queen quietly contemplated the situation for a full three days and after doing some investigating, decided what she shall do. She feels great. Calm, and by George she feels LIKE THE QUEEN.


I’ve been working with my chest lately, the throat. The hot yoga really gets in there deep, works things out. I’m among all these young people at the Core Power, and a lot of the time I’m doing a variation for my personal benefit to get deep in my chest, deep in my shoulders as I see fit. Hell, I'm 43 and I don't care. There is an expansion in my chest I haven’t felt in a long time. I can breath deeper, it’s in the center of my chest and it goes up my throat. I like a lot of back bends, something I've always resisted, they open these up. I can do the deepest backbend ever, which is huge for my usually so inflexible spine because of two herniated disks. Just as the cadaver lab teacher said, "The thoracic spine is what makes the heart dance." So it is happening.My heart is dancing. Once John Friend touched that spot behind my heart when I was in urdhva dhanurasana and said, “There’s your stuck spot.” I can never forget his touch at that spot. The back of the heart. In my chest, with the fear gone, the shoulders can slide down the back. I focus on my tail bone and relax. I am grounded and speaking from my heart, not my head and neck.


So the spine dances the heart, the heart opens. My chest spreads and my throat opens. My bird in the tree wants to sing, breathe deeply, make music, tell stories, be free and expressed. And my bird is happy. She is content. The jaw loop is engaged and it helps the shoulders go down the back. I focus on the tailbone and everything drops down to the floor and I am centered in my heart, relaxed, ready and alert, witnessing the miracle of the present.

I remember my feet, mulha banda, the pelvis grounded, my core my refuge, my shoulders to be relaxed. It opens the chest. I can gain the stillness of the moment. The peace of not grasping, not needing to grasp because you don’t have to worry about survival, that you won’t starve, die, be murdered like your ancestors.

I think it’s the root of my fear. Besides the uncertainty as a child that was programmed into me that at any moment that my mother was going to start screaming and doing something terrifying to me. It’s an ancestral fear passed down generations. Fear of annihilation. My father, who survived a Japanese concentration camp on Java as a child, his terror and grief subconsciously filtered through to his children, to me, to my children. They carry it too. A massage therapist who works me and my kids said that we all as a family have tight neck, shoulders and backs of legs. My father has the same thing. I massaged his shoulders and neck as a child. Our body patterns follow. The lingering unconscious influence of the parents’ psyche. But my story isn’t very different from others. How about somebody who is Jewish and their grandfather was only one of eight children to survive the Russian pogroms. Or a Native American on a reservation who doesn’t trust a donation of fine fingernail polish because she suspects that there is some poison in it because they want to exterminate them. The world is filled with some very sick people who start wars and kill others in a self-righteous rage.

The fear becomes less with stillness. With grounding in the body. Slowing down, being in sych with the world and being PRESENT, being PART OF IT. Surrender to how the body feels and moves in every moment. It's a form of safety.

With less fear in my life things become more and more clearer. They are much simpler. I am down to the root chakra where I know what I can and can’t do. As I always do too much and I typically do it all myself. But my work and future projects are very clear. It’s simple, manageable. I don’t have to rush around. I have people who help me in my work. My family life is balanced. I have time to take care of myself and have hobbies other than my hobby of work. Like cook, garden, read, go to the theater or a movie, hike and travel. Slowing down to the rhythm of nature just moves you through the heart. There is a definite trust. All you have to do is really learn to be patient and wait things through. I’m typically impulsive, the first to say, "I Love You." I’ve matured, seeing what waiting actually does. It provides a great foundation of being and knowing that this is the right choice so that you can proceed unencumbered.

I’ve been gathering information about Speer. A friend is helping me make some choices about it. Things are moving forward. I just let the creditors call. Thank you for different ring tones! I’m waiting to see if I can get my money from the house. I’ll forge ahead with my passions and my work. Despite the fact that tenants want to move out of the cottage before the end of their lease because they are freezing, since it’s been abnormally cold here and Justin did such a shitty job on remodeling it in the first place. Not even the insulation I installed helps. Ah, well. Such is life. And still the heart dances. Still the Queen lives in awe and beauty of such a fine opera. And her flowering tree with a little bird in it center blooms in winter. "Caw! Caw!"

New Year

The Queen had to go to Court today. Not HER court but THE Court. TRAFFIC Court. Somehow on the road at a certain point her carriage turns into LA GATA NEGRA and transforms into a wild black cat and it gets her into trouble on occasion. It just happened to be in COMMERCE CITY, of all places. Is there anything IN COMMERCE CITY besides the power plant that as a child looked like the city of Oz to her? The Queen was confused. “What? I can’t just write my check and be done with it? I have to GO TO COURT!” She was horrified, aghast. “It’s so unbecoming of a Queen. AM I GUILTY?” she wondered.
Among the masses of bad drivers, delinquents and indigents, she nervously confessed her penchant for speed to the Big Wig who seemed not impressed and figured her being from Boulder had some cash to plump up the city coffers, and who merely lowered the fine but only by a little dispite her chirping about “a lot of stress” when the Big Wig asked her “IS THERE ANYTHING YOU’D LIKE TO SAY.” Overall the Queen felt the day was wasted, however, she did get to visit a friend and get some work done at the same time and praised the technological advances that so discretely allow her to cheat and fill the dreadful time that is supposed to be, she guesses, punishment. She drove in her carriage the speed limit all the way back to her castle like a good little girl, but she knows the desire will return down the road. One day.

There is a rhythm that one can align with. It’s the rhythm of nature. It’s a synching, and aligning. It’s a slow process, one that doesn’t let you go without some kicking and screaming. But it’s the good sort of kicking and screaming. It’s the type that cleans you out. Because you need it and by George, it seems the only way because really you just don’t get it otherwise so it becomes necessary by all means.

The new year is off to a good start. An amazing shift of solstice energy, dying and then being reborn into light – has proven powerful. Wonderful surprises, realizations and also painful ones. It was a pleasant enough time with the kids. The Festivities, the good friends and food, and then the purging of the house. Getting rid of all the gaudy tinsel and clutter which makes me can’t stand a shred of Christmas the day after, my birthday, so out it all goes and I undertook a massive cleaning and reorganizing of the house. The Christmas tree is outside, ready to be chopped up for fire wood. It felt wonderful. And then a shift and clarity in my work and naturally surrendering to its process. Not being afraid of waiting, not being afraid of the uncertainty. Just sitting there with everything and enjoying the moment anyway.

We opened our presents on Christmas Eve with my father after lunch of lox and bagels and homemade carrot ginger soup. My younger sister, didn’t show up. My older sister, who has just returned from India, didn’t make it either. It was a bit disappointing and lonely for some reasons, but also wonderful for others. I put their wrapped presents in the closets and didn’t cry.

Of course with my sister’s it’s a source of old pain. That same old story. What are you doing for them? You set things up nice, and they don’t show up. Pretty typical. Pretty disappointing. I didn’t let it bother me. I shifted my focus on my kids and did fun things like sledding and going to movies and making lots of artwork. It was offensive, though, that my older sister demands thing. Like that I should prepare food for her. As a Hare Krishna devotee, she demands rigid food. Both my sister-in-law have run ourselves ragged in years past to provide fine vegetarian food for their demanding and austere pallets, only to be snubbed when her husband won’t bless the food or it was cooked in the wrong pot or, God forbid, was made with KARMIE HANDS. I remember nearly three years ago when she suddenly announced she was moving to India, drove up from Dallas and she showed up the day before her flight. I had surrendered and not prepared anything, knowing it could not pass her satisfaction. She seemed offended. “I should have called ahead and told you what to make me!” I felt terrible, ran out to Whole Foods and bought wonderful vegetarian items. But once I returned she said, “Oh, my God! Syd! I forgot to tell you! Today is a special day! We have to fast front grains! I’m so sorry!” So half of my purchases were useless. Thank god for my niece, who I call “Krishna Lite,” said, “I’ll eat it. I don’t care.” Needless to say I get a long with my niece. But I sense some kind of redemption. My older sister coming home. What needs to be said? Reconciled?

I know it is about my value. I remember my mother. When I was a child, calling all us girls whores and dirty bitches, screaming at us, beating me with a stick. Am I worth anything? I had given birth to my daughter. I had been home from the hospital less than a day. I sat with my baby daughter in my arms on the couch and my mother shuffled in. She had a crumpled up paper grocery bag in her arms. Her hair typical and matted and unkempt, her clothing torn and ragged. She thrust the bag, my daughter’s birthday gift, into my husband’s arms and announced to me, “I’m ready for a pizza. Mushroom.” I didn’t cry. I just breathed in and out. I was never allowed to shine. It was always her. Or my father. Or my sister, or other sister or SOMEBODY. It was never about me.

I remember her gift. What was inside that brown bag. The gift from my mother to her granddaughter. My daughter. Me. 1) a sample of a Kotex, opened. 2) a bracelet of coins, broken, from a garage sale purchase 10 years ago. I remember it from her jewelry box. 3) two clipped coupons for Knox Borden condensed milk to save 10 cents. 4) 5 apples, with worm holes, from their backyard apple tree.

So I realize, what is it about me that is unable to see my own value? My own worth?

But I do see it. This New Year. The grinding of the wheel one more time. To face oneself in the harshness of winter. It’s very cold again. Bitter cold. It’s been icy. Things have not melted as usually promised in sunny Colorado. Al Quaida seems to be penetrating deeper into US territory. It’s getting at things. Putting a mirror up, rooting things out. A numerologist once told me that I was supposed to learn about taking care of myself. Standing on my own. I didn’t want to believe it. But it’s always that way. You set it all up for people. You get little in return. I’ve tried ludicrous means of finding my value from other people. Only to be once again disappointed. All along I refused to believe that I could get it met through my own talents, my own worth. But I guess it’s that pressure that cooks up innovation. Maybe I will turn Speer into a medical marijuana grow house and salvage it. I was there today, collecting the laundry coinage and trying to figure out why the hell the new dyer isn’t working. Heavy Sigh. Maybe I’ll just really focus on my work, discipline myself in yoga, build a community of HEALTHY people around me, and watch my own star shine.

I talked to my father today. He had some X-rays for his legs, which are puffing up, causing pain. I find myself caring for him more and more. I do, out of love, but caution. Where is my light? Where is my shine for caring for myself? He told me about my younger sister. Her car broke down – again. She wants my dad and his neighbor to tinker with the motor and fix it. Somebody help her. Somebody help me. That learned helplessness. The Powerlessness. The black mold in the basement. It strikes us all. I recognize it in me. Nobody is going to come to my rescue. I keep putting energy into it, it buys me time, and heartache, and ultimately I do come up with a solution. Why not believe in yourself? Is there any other choice?

I told my lawyer, who is wonderfully, finally, preparing the complaint against my husband to the department of regulatory agencies to try and collect my money from my house he had foreclosed on and failed to sell as a realtor. I’m in holding pattern. Breathing in and breathing out. Showing up now at CorePower Hot and Yin Yoga among all the young CU Boulder student bodies, and sweating and cleaning and releasing and feeling good. Accepting what is, my body, my self, my talents, my life. It has all the echoes of a sweet surrender and a beautiful composition.

I feel more aligned. Slowing down does the trick. So does surrendering. I couldn't whip myself into a frenzy if I forced myself. I'd rather be in balance. Anything else is just too painful. I'll just go with the flow, thank you very much. There is simplicity, balance and presence. There is redemption, fulfillment. Ah, the last thing of my mother. She really visited today in her ghost. I remember reading her letters from Europe. 1955. Her adventurous self. But never allowing herself pleasure, satisfaction. Ah, the guilt, to splurge on a better room, a better seat at the opera. Do I deserve it? Am I worth it? I see how my mother set it all up. I see how I pierce it all and rewrite the story. The flowering tree in winter. It keeps me rooted, keeps me blooming, keeps me present, no matter what.

My father said today that he talks to my mother. "She's well now, you know." I think she is. It's the retroactive healing of the ancestors. your healing heals them all. "I believe it." I told him. Not sure if I believe we are all going into the fifth dimension and that aliens are about to be revealed and nothing will be left by 2012 so don't worry... but I believe my mother is well. And that so am I.

It’s a slight adjustment. A tinkering of sorts. Clean out the last corners. Kick off the New Year with a Bang. Recession be damned, we all know artists will save the world AND our souls. So why not just keep being one. It really doesn’t matter. You just align to your dharma. You believe in it. And that faith and belief is like a strong horse. Once you get on, your destiny’s ride is assured.

So is the Queen’s New Year. 2010 is going to be her year.