In This Issue:
Throughout the next year, in every workshop we ran, whenever we set up our clusters of eight or so people in each group, gave them a little instruction and asked them to send intention to a group member, we were stunned witnesses to story after story of physical and psychic transformation.
With gifts of the Holy Spirit, my hands guide my blinking eyes while I act as a human MRI/X-ray and scan your entire body to find negative energy and disease.
Interacting with all of your limbs, rolling your neck, and stretching into new positions can trigger arousal points that you didn’t know you had.
“We need a whole transformation from the bottom to the top of the criminal justice system. How we treat the humans who use them should be in a caring and compassionate way, not a punishing way. Legalizing marijuana is the first step, not the end of the journey. It's the beginning of the battle,”
Los Muertos beach is at the end of the Malecon. I was there on a Sunday, and it was nuts. A bazillion local kids splashed in the water, Zumba music pouring from beneath every colorful beach umbrella. A little farther and the Latin tunes changed to disco, the male swim attire skewing toward Speedos. Gay Vallarta was in full swing.
I spent over two decades spinning around the eye of the hurricane of this charismatic, bliss-bestowing, fear-inducing guru while he sliced away at my ego and ricocheted me daily from glorious heights of ecstasy to intense depths of devastation and back, all with just his glance. It seemed to make no rhyme or reason, but in the process, I became myself.