The lad in the picture below is Chris Sherlock, my friend and colleague from Galway, Ireland. In 2020, Chris will join me as an author in the Mental Health for Millennials series, discussing his experiences with bullying while growing up; you can read more about Chris's story in Mental Health for Millennials IV coming out 10 October 2020. But Chris is more than just an author and survivor, he's also the host of The Chris Sherlock Show (formerly The Midweek Show) on Flirt FM, a station out of NUIG, where Chris and I have met on numerous occasions to record episodes. 

The moment I met Chris in 2017, we were fast-friends. In October 2019, I had a chance to turn the tables on Chris, putting him in the hot seat for once. After a fab day of touring the Latin quarter in Galway, Chris, who was born and raised in the city, took me to his favorite restaurant where I turned on my recorder and let the questions fly. 

Earlier in the day, Chris and I had made an impromptu stop at the Cathedral in Galway. My grandmother was Irish-Catholic and I always light a candle for her wherever I travel. Chris is one of those special people in that, his sense of family and compassion runs deep--deeper than the cold waters in Galway Bay (behind us in the photo insert). Many of my readers know I'm a long-term cancer survivor--Chris and I connected on that level as well. Part of what makes Chris such a sensitive interviewer on air is his experience with his mum's illness. Losing her to cancer in his early 20's hit Chris hard. He now cares for his dad, who still lives in the same house where Chris and his older brother grew up. Speaking of Chris and his brother, the two created a spooky "Halloween mobile" in October 2019 for local trick-or-treaters--just one of the many community-minded kindnesses Chris performs on a regular basis. It landed him in the local paper, too. 

Chris's other charity work focuses on hospice; he and his family benefited from their services during his mum's illness and every year, Chris raises both money and awareness for the cause in memory of his mother. I'm a mother, too, and can honestly say how PROUD I would be to have someone like Chris Sherlock as my son. Anyone who finds themselves lucky enough to be one of Chris's family or friends is in store for unsurpassed kinship, and absolute hours upon hours of laughter!

No one makes me laugh as hard or as often as Chris Sherlock. I hope to get him on stage at a Boston comedy club in the next year or so. We quite literally laughed our way through Galway (and, yes, we ate our way through the city as well). Quite an affable tour guide and companion, Chris Sherlock--he even took off his coat so I could sit on a rocky perch and take a photo of divers near Salt Hill. Total gentleman. 

As funny and sweet as Chris really is, his presence on air is completely professional. In fact, I found Chris to be one of the most prepared professionals I've ever worked with. His love of music and support of independent artists, writers and publishers is something he's well known for. With frequent trips to UK for concerts and to visit beloved family, Chris is one of the few in the industry who is not just doing what he's assigned, but a man who takes the time to get to know the artist's he chooses to support. My hope is that a network like Spin Southwest in Ireland or BBC in UK will pick up Chris's show in the future.  

A few days before the October 2019 launch of the book I edited, Mental Health for Millennials III: On Happiness, Chris invited me to sit down with him in studio. This smashing interview is the result:

www.mixcloud.com/TheMidweekShow/drrebecca-housel-chats-to-chris-sherlock/

Please check out more great interviews in-studio from Chris Sherlock, including episodes with guests like the beloved British psychic, Heidi Messenger. A mutual friend to both Chris and I, Heidi sadly passed during her long battle with cancer on 10 April 2019, but her work through her books and Oracle Messenger cards continues to help people rise above difficulty, giving hope in even our darkest hours. You'll also find interviews with the comedy duo, Sir Stevo Timothy and Lady Sinead Nora--both are native to Galway. Sir Stevo and Chris grew up in the same neighborhood. After his accident, Sir Stevo and Lady Sinead began doing YouTube videos of their in-car comedy routines. Their recent book was a result of Chris connecting them with a local indie publisher. That's just the kind of guy Chris is--always thinking of others, helping people any way he can even it means taking off his coat on a frigid Galway day in October so a lady can stay dry while taking a photograph. 

Follow Chris on Twitter, Facebook and Instagram...and subscribe to his mixcloud page to get updates on his latest episodes! 

#TheChrisSherlockShow 

If I leave for eight months, will I come back reborn in the ninth? I'd imagine I'll be new in some ways, older in others. My Russian will be flawless again though. And, I'll be fitter. I think, too, that upon my return, I would no longer tolerate abuse or disrespect of any kind. A very good thing....

Regardless of how many degrees I have or how how many books I write or edit, or even the number of celebrities I've worked with​, I'm still a woman. It's not just that certain people see me as dispensable--or, highly replaceable. No, it is also me. Or rather, my oxytocin. The bonding chemical. Female brains have it in abundance. In very general terms, we lack emotional containment as a result. That doesn't mean we can't hold our emotions, by the way--it just means that we can't box them up and put them away on some random mental shelf.

No one can connect the dots quite as well as a woman can. It's what makes us rather good at target practice, and ironically, helps to bolster family ties, too. We're also terribly resourceful. That translates to talented diagnosticians and excellent strategists. Which all contributes to women's overall longevity. We usually outlive the average man by a good decade. Dealing with our emotions as they come is at least part of why. Men don't have that option, inside, or out...speaking of which:

If I leave, will love wait for me? I'll come home in late spring. Apropos of something, I'm sure. I just don't know what yet....

Will I get better at chess...if I go? Will I write every day? Maybe a new book? Perhaps two??? Or, will it be more like 10? And, what new poems will my soul have spoken into the Universe? What new songs will peer out of the watery edges of mine eye?

When I come back, will there be someone special waiting for me? Someone who can hand me a tissue should emotions leak a watery trail down my cheek? Or, will I be doing what I do now--keeping a few in my bra, just in case.

Vodka will have replaced my fondness for Irish whiskey upon my return. Childhood visions of sitting around a big table with bearded men laughing heartily as a bottle of Smirnoff slowly empties runs like a movie on a reel. Though today, Anestasia Vodka is my preference. My talented friend, Yulia, created it...like me, she has Russian blood. Our families settled in Ukraine at some point, but mine always spoke Russian, as well as a few other languages. A new niece married into my family this year; she is also Russian. We find each other--orphans of the motherland. Even those of us whose DNA represents the world. 

Yulia and I met when I drove to her art studio near New York City to pick up one of her paintings. I saw the Ural Mountains in in her work, and the Malachite that can be found there. Across time and space, and hundreds of miles, our common ancestry connected us. Oh yes, Mother Russia is alive in my heart, and apparently, my soul, too. Her snowy days and nights reminding me of other lives under different names, but always with the same face.The thought of going "home" is a happy one.

Funny how well I can imagine (and relate to) cold conditions and deep isolation, but something like winning the lottery??? Terrifying. 

Besides the obvious financial freedom and independence, money doesn't change the silence that hangs in the air as you await a lover's call. If you have money, you can't tell anyone--not really. You'll be hated, envied. People's jealousies would manifest in a myriad of ways. Every friend you know with even a modicum of debt would be knocking on your door. And, forget about ever finding true love again. Once you have public wealth, you'll never be loved for any other reason--even the best people will see you as a means to an end.

Wealth isn't the only thing people use against you though...talent is also taken, and, taken for granted. Meanwhile, no matter how rich and/or talented, you're still a human being (even if also a god). We all deserve love. We all deserve to have someone who will think of us each morning and smile. We deserve orange roses, too...simply for existing. I just bought myself three arrangements. Why? No, no...why is never the right question. Better to ask, "Why not?"

Nature is something I'd miss for those 7 months and 31 days. Where I'm going, life (and how it's maintained) is relatively artificial. I wouldn't just miss the feeling of the sun on my skin, I'd miss listening to the wind use the leaves on the trees as its voice to tell me secrets. I'd miss protecting a caterpillar as it painstakingly crosses the gravel path. I'd miss watching honey bees collect pollen from a flower. Or, seeing a bird take an interest in me and half-hop, half-fly from branch to branch as my soul softly sings it a rhythmic song. I'd miss hearing a dragonfly buzz over my head. And, likening the sound from a flock of birds' wings to that of an angel landing next to me. I'd miss seeing a golden eagle emerge from the field. Or watching a wolf pad up the deer path while I stand upwind. Butterflies, beetles, spiders, bats, snakes, and yes...the stars in the night sky. I'd miss it all. Very much.

I'd miss a few people, too. Of the souls who awaken mine--one in particular comes to mind. Maybe I come to his, too. Will I become but a memory on one of his mental shelves if I go? That black lace number I bought (and wore) just for him, swept into some dusty corner of his mind??? Will the feeling of being inside me be lost over time? Will the colors of my eyes blur into brown and not the shades of forest green and gold that reflect the meadow and the trees I know and love so well?

Adversity is my milk-and-honey...maybe one day in the not-so-distant future, love will be, too. Haters always underestimate the fact that energy is just energy, so may be used any way I wish. Whatever energy is spent on me evolves into fuel for a cosmic springboard that launches me ever-further toward universal success.

We should never reward negative behaviors, but we can always embrace silver linings!

If I leave, I hope he stays. And, I hope Nature doesn't change her face too much. I hope mine doesn't change too much either.... 

​Life doesn't sit still. It doesn't wait around for people to do something, or not do something. It keeps moving forward.

So will I.

#TheReturn

Driving down a long, long stretch of highway in the midst of eight-hours of travel through treacherous mountains, blowing snow, high winds, sleet, and slushy, slick roads, became somehow lighter when Paul McCartney popped on the radio. My Bluetooth had gone haywire and I couldn't seem to stream anything, so set my dial on "scan." Admittedly, I was crying a little but stopped when I heard this song. Something about the words spoke to me. Maybe it was the sense of wonder in the singer's voice...maybe.

It's tough to be immortal yet still live a linear existence. You see people come and go in the same way dandelion seeds spread across the expanse of a field in the equivalent of a single breath. Immortality means you're always alone, even when you're not. Because, no one understands what it's like to be orphaned by the living. Or, to live through a 17-hour surgery wide-awake, as you watch brain matter and blood splatter on the blue sheet covering your face...then, to the amazement of your surgeons, get up on your own and walk away. Or rather, limp away. Later, a doctor has the audacity to tell you you're going to die in two years. The absurdity of that linear thought makes you laugh. That same laughter echoes twenty years into the future...a future you met so you could meet love. And, greet love. Over and over and over again...ad infinitum, but not ad nauseum. The few moments where love seemed real in the past now pale in comparison. Eleven is a very lucky number after all. Maybe one day, I'll be lucky enough to see love reflected back at me for more than just a few hours...maybe.

Fuck. I live for that day. When one is infinite, there is no awareness of anything but infinity. It's simple. Beautiful. Dignified. And, all consuming. A lot like love, actually...but not as fulfilling. More akin to floating in the ocean. You just exist, upheld by the cohesive fabric of a buoyant Universe.

Being formidable's not all it's cracked up to be. Neither is being a woman,. In the meantime, I am a woman, a formidable one. Always amazed at how others treat me as a result of my perceived gender. The expectations are so high for the fairer sex. People feel betrayed simply because you exist, persist, resist. Angry that you laugh. Furious at your smile. Jealous of both. Even other women will come to hate you. Of course, that may have more to do with immortality. At some point, folks recognise that you're not exactly aging.

"Pretty" is never pretty....

Cars were spinning out left and right on the road in front of me. White-out conditions in the Berkshires. Several vehicles flew into ditches like two-ton Frisbees, their drivers looking understandably stunned. And yet, I was able to drive on, unfettered. A red pick up with the numbers "2622" on its license plate slid in front of me on a slice of spacetime. I pulled into a gas station shortly thereafter to fill my tank and  there it was. A lottery sign that read, "$226-million." I should have probably played! But when you're immortal, money is a meaningless concept. There is no race to the finish line because, well, there is no finish line.

All that remains when you take Death out of the equation is LOVE. Oh, and tits, too. Tits don't go anywhere. Which is a good thing. Because, neither am I....

 #Maybe 

The ship was moving slowly through deep waters. Outside of the cabin, the sun was beginning to set. The twilight glow highlighted bodies furiously swimming to shore in efforts to beat the darkness. I was struck by how much courage it must have taken to have swam that far out to begin with. A military man--an Admiral, I think--was standing near the window, too, and said, "Those aren't just men out there."

I looked closer and noticed alligators swimming near the surface. That made me even more concerned about the swimmers and their safety....

The floating black, red and white metal Behemoth was headed toward an island. Apparently, Hillary Clinton was going to be there to give a talk. But I wasn't traveling for that purpose; a beloved person I care for deeply was going to be on the island, too. In that moment, said person magically manifested in the doorway to the right of where I was standing. He acknowledged me, but then launched into a discussion about politics with the Admiral. If we were alone, the scene would have gone quite differently. The moment I turned to him, he immediately responded. In the dream, I remember feeling a sense of regret at being too polite to kick the Admiral out so I could properly express my joy at seeing a person I care about. In the last week or so, I received several caveats from multiple sources about being too hesitant. And indeed, one of my biggest regrets to date was because of hesitation on a particular decision.

I have tons of regrets, but it's mostly small things. People who live full lives usually have at least a few. I'm no exception. But this one moment in time is something I wholly regret because I never want to miss a single moment of love. As a result of my real-life hesitation, I missed a lot of moments. Which led to missing minutes, hours, even days. Heartbreaking, really. Especially for someone who so badly needs both love and affection. 

I still feel those missing moments crying out from a spiraled source at the base of my spine. Today, I can only imagine how comforting those collection of memories would have been. At the time, I was hesitant for what felt like good reasons. We can only ever have 20/20 vision when we look backwards, but I'm still sad about what was missed. My only hope is that I can somehow make it up in future. 

By and large, we tend to believe we can work toward change and make our lives better. If we didn't, there'd be no point in breathing. I really think that's at the crux of why people in their 40's, 50's and 60's choose to die--at some point, you live through so much pain that it can be quite frustrating to not see effective change. Lacking emotional support makes the resulting hopelessness and helplessness grow ever stronger. However, things can always change for the better if we're willing to work for it. Still, it's daunting to live through decades of difficulty yet somehow hold on to the belief that positives can and will stick around--to be honest, that's at the heart of my regret because it's why I hesitated. My heart and head were in such severe disagreement that, ultimately, time made the decision for me. 

If I live to be 100, I'll never not regret what I missed in that moment. That's the truth. 

Where I come from, the only thing you have to worry about when swimming in deep waters is what's under the surface. But I still swim almost all the way to P-town and back again. With dolphins, seals...even mink whales! Sharks, too, of course. It's just part of the deal. We all have to learn to take risks. Jumping into the deep can be frightening, but I've never felt more free than when I'm swimming out in the open ocean. It's the same with love, too.  

In the dream, my person leaned against me after the Admiral left. I could literally feel his cheek on mine--as in, an actual physical sensation so acute, it woke me. Of course, no one was touching my cheek in real life. I was alone in bed. But it was hard to shake--that sense of touch.

I hate how lonely I am--it's apparent in dreams like this one. That's part of surviving abuse. At some point, similar to the dogs in Seligman's "learned helplessness" experiments, after being forced to bear the trauma of repeat negative stimuli, a person can also give up to a certain extent. Humans are not dogs, of course. We don't live in physical cages. Ours are more psychological. If we so desire, we can discard whatever is holding us prisoner and move on with our lives. My best hope for anyone reading these words is that whatever holds you back today will be gone in the not-so-distant future. Permanently. Never to return.

I'm grateful for feeling loved...even for just a few hours. What a rare and beautiful gift. So rare, some of us have to wait a lifetime to experience it. 

I may not always know how to handle love, but at least I know the real deal when I see it. Nothing matters more to me than  true love. Earning money is necessary to live, but earning real love is a decision we make when we're ready to stop surviving our lives in order to finally thrive. Once we have love and affection (and the natural support and confidence that comes with both), things fall into place. We still have to take action by making decisions and moving toward our goals, but even when an obstacle is rolled in the path of love, where it was once impossible for an individual to get around it alone, two can find a solution...together.

Reciprocal love and affection moves mountains, parts the very oceans and carves whole paths across the surface of the planet, just to connect two people who have maybe not had the best of luck...until one day, love happens. Time is irrelevant when it does. Time, space...nothing else matters but that big ball of pure light that emerges between a pair of souls who have finally found each other. 

Don't be afraid of deep emotional waters like I was. If a prehistoric fear-instinct rises to the surface, just remember: You're built for victory, not failure...or you wouldn't have those opposable thumbs and complex brain. With that kind of physical advantage, success is not only possible, it's probable, too.

Start planning on happy surprises entering your life. Be full of hopes, wishes and dreams--ones so large, you can only describe them as having tectonic breadth. 

Ready to dive in???

I am....

#DeepWaters

​ 

*Photo of Cape Cod Copyright Rebecca Housel 2019

The streets of New Orleans taste familiar
It's the air, I think
As I walk
A Garden District trellis
Points me to the cemetery
The stones,
Sad...
Old.
In the very back
Shaded by magnolia trees
Is my grave
The name and date are worn away
It's been 300 years after all
Which made me wonder if I was now the ghost
Haunting, taunting those around me
The ones who lay still and quiet
Whilst I continue to wander the world
"The more things change,
The more they stay the same."
I can hear her voice
Like an echo
From what was the front parlour
Her silk dress gathered at the waist
Bosoms heaving as she struggled to breathe
Beneath the squeeze of her corset
She does needlework by the light of the window
Maybe she was my mother
I'm not sure anymore
Memory fades between lives
With one exception:
You.
In every lifetime, I see your face
Not unlike mine
Variations of the same green eyes
And salty dark hair
In this lifetime
A boy named Artem woke me 
He looks like you
The moment I saw him, I knew
That was the same moment I started looking all over again
For you
We were in the desert once, too
Baudrillard, sitting on a high stool, twists his mouth at me
Raises an eyebrow
And nods
But Hannah Arendt leans against the French doors
Rolling her eyes in disdain
She's still smoking the same cigarette
"I wait for him...just like you."
She turns her head slowly to face the darkness
While I turn mine to study the keyboard
Tap-tap-tapping away
Artemis is represented by a bear...did you know?
So was Arthur
I studied him for so long
Now I can see that it was really you 
My Once-and-Future King
Your embrace makes me a time traveler
I want to take you to New Orleans
So we can discover each other all over again, and again...and again
Though my beloved Sucre on Magazine has gone
And the most perfect Gianduja gelato with it
The old keys are still in the cemented sidewalk
Across from a building
Where you once opened the door for me
You smiled
I blushed
Gray silk top hat tilted in your hand
Coat and tails with a cream ascot
We'd both crossed the sea
I spoke French (and still do...)
When we touch today
It's as if I'm remembering your body
Not meeting it for the first time
Images from the past manifest quickly:
The Sun streaming through the window in a hot attic
You bending over, handing me a porcelain doll
Or perhaps, picking it up
Her blanched face scarred by a chip in her cheek
Then, the scene shifts
I'm in white as we stroll through the fallen magnolia leaves
An umbrella in my hand
A bonnet on my head
To shield me from the Sun
And, the intensity of your gaze
It still feels just as intense, you know
To see you look at me
My soul wants me to go back
To New Orleans...with you
I was there for her 300th anniversary
It was Christmas
Reveillon dinners that I could have cooked better myself
Walking the same streets I once walked with you
Turning a corner, hoping to see you there
Even though we had yet to meet
So I sat in the little cafe across the street
My glance, continuously drawn to the red building where, once-upon-a-time, you held the door open
Before holding me....
It's now a store that sells cigars,
And though I don't exactly know why
A tear begins to cascade from my eye
I've missed you for a very, very long time.

#ThePoem


​

*Photo copyright Rebecca Housel 2019

My fascination with numbers has been ongoing since childhood. I'd routinely run the stats of a given situation in my head, even before I knew what the word "statistics" meant. That talent is at least part of why I've survived so much for so long--you see, numbers don't lie, people do. If the numbers aren't favorable, I'll usually walk away before getting overly involved. While that sounds reasonable enough, I nearly missed out on my own personal miracle because instead of listening to what my heart was saying, I let the numbers do the talking. 

Numbers are considered the universal language. In fact, it is a number-based system called binary that delivers computer processor instructions--every new generation of computer can be easily integrated from the last because of binary. Given how much computers contribute to every day life in the 21st century, it's pretty amazing to consider just how much math, and the numbers behind it, mean to our world.

Integers are whole numbers. The word "integer" comes from the Latin integer, meaning "whole." All that equates to is that an integer or whole number has no fractional component. It is complete unto itself. Happy numbers are integers. But so are harshad numbers....

Harshad numbers are integers or whole numbers in a given number base (b) that are divisible by the sum within that same base. The word "harshad" or "joy-giver" comes from the Sanskrit harsa (joy) and da (to give); "27" is an harshad number because it adds up to 9 and is divisible by 9. The number "9" is a natural numerical mirror, if you will. Everything that is added to it can be simplified back to itself. Example: 2+9=11 and 11 simplified is 1+1=2.

In Numerology, "9" is the number of karmic completion and wholeness, the end to one life cycle and the beginning of another; it's also associated with light-work, or helping others, as well as romance. The romance in 2019, a year ending in "9," was apparently even written in the stars--in December 2018, astrologers predicted those traveling to other countries (especially for work or professional pursuits) would make intense sexual and spiritual connections leading to long-term love. Part of their rationale included the fact that the planet Venus (associated with love) was not going to appear to be moving backwards from Earth's surface (or what is referred to as "retrograde"). Either way, the fact that 2019 ends in an harshad number, or "joy-giver," is probably not a coincidence. Einstein would agree....

Happy numbers are happier because the zeros in their midst can be discounted, as there is no numerical value to a zero. Humans would be happier, too, if we could discount those who do not add value to our lives...once again, the inherent honesty (and wisdom) in numbers is something to be appreciated.

Numbers called "10-happy primes" are integers within base 10 (b10). You may better recognize base 10 as the decimal system. Yes, when you refer to 10 years as a decade, you can see the same "dec" prefix, It comes from Deka, Greek for "ten."  When we talk about Latin roots of a given word, it is always an imperative to also look to the Greek, which was the main linguistic influence on the development of Latin as seen in the fact that the Latin alphabet derives from the Greek alphabet. 

Base 10 categorizes integers and nonintegers. In base 10, there are 143 numbers up to 1,000. Those numbers include combinations of 1, 7, 10, 13, 31, 219, 226, 310, and 326--all of which can be translated into specific calendar dates. When we see the numbers in base 10 as dates, it deepens our perception of their meaning. Calendar dates mark life-events and milestones, connecting every day life for humans to numbers in a more profound way. If we were to do that for base 10, it would look something like this:

June 3-7, 10-11, 12-13, 21-22 and 26-27, July 1-7, 10, 11, 16-17, and 20-31, October 1,-3, 6-7, 10-11, 12-13, 16-17, 21-22, 26, and 29-31, November 1-7, 10-11, 12-13, 21-22, 26, and 29-30,  December 1-7, 10, 13, 17, 19, 21-22, 26, and 30-31, January 1-7, 10, 13, 19, 22, and 26, February 2-6, 7, 10-13, 17, 19, 21-22, 26-27, and 29, and finally, March 1, 3, 6-7, 10-11, 12-13, 17, 19, 21, 22, 26, and 29-31

Of all the potential converted dates above, only 31 July (7) and 22 June (6) form what are considered "distinct" combinations of original 10-happy numbers....

What's fascinating about these two converted dates in particular is that, depending on the year, both are palindromes, like 11:11--which happens to be today's date. For example, 31 July 1971 may be formed from early numbers in the base 10 sequence, which can then be broken down to 7337 ("7" for July and "3" from 31, then, the combination of the remaining 3-"1's" leave only a "7" from 1971; the "9" is a natural numerical mirror and merely gets absorbed), or, 1010 (7+3=10, 3+7=10). That can also become 119 (7+3+1=11; 1+9+7+1=9), which then becomes another 11 (or 11:11), thanks to the "9." The date "31 July" is also a 74 or 47, depending on how you write it (eg 31 July vs July 31). 

With 22 June, if we use the year 1974 (to play off of the "74" from July (7) 31 (3+1=4)), the date becomes another palindrome: June=6+"1" from the 1974=7 and 22 is 2+2=4, simplified; the remaining "974" from 1974 becomes "74" as anything added to "9" is the simplified version of itself. What remains is a 7447, which can be simplified to, "1111" (4+7=11). So, 22 June 1974 reflects the "74" from July 31, which in turn reflects the total of "10" (as "1010") from 22 June (2+2+6=10). It's a perfect mathematical pairing, if you will--elegant and balletic in how it "moves."

The above was part of my process in getting to what is the only known palindromic number in the universe (to date) using digits that are reflected in both 6-happy and 10-happy numbers within base 10. I'm not a mathematician and only started seriously considering observable naturally occurring numerical patterns in the last four years. But apparently, this same thought occurred to a computer programmer in 2005 (though I have yet to verify the source). 

In base 10, we see the "74" show up again with "6-happy" numbers"  as there are only 74 that then stop at "1296" (which can be converted to the calendar date 12 June since "9" gets absorbed, but "1296" is also a variation of 
Tesla's 369--1+2=3, leaving the "6" and "9"). The individual number, "1296," may also be translated to "6 to the 4th power"--if we were to convert "6 to the 4th power" to a calendar date from base 10, it relates back to the original 226 or what we translated as 22 June.

If you're confused at this point, just remember--humans see things in a linear direction because of our physicality. We can't move any other way but forward. Numbers, however, are not finite like humans--they are infinite. Infinity means everything is connected to everything else--all part of the same fabric, if you will. So if you look at the "1296" from our 6-happy numbers and say to yourself, "I get the June 12th part but how does June 12th become June 22nd?" The simple answer is, it doesn't. But by using math, we can find connections through the relatable (and familiar) context of calendar dates. Mathematics help us see connections that simply aren't visible from our linear (or fixed) perspective. Scientists like Einstein used mathematics to help decode "unseen" parts of our Universe. That's how fields like quantum mechanics developed. So, while we can easily correlate "12" from the number "1296" to the 12th of June, we can only see the repetition of a base 10-happy numerical combination when we turn "1296" into 6 to the 4th power. 

Of the 74 "6-happy" numbers, "229" (from 22.6.74) and 1010 (from 31.7.71) are both present: June 22, 1974 ultimately simplifies to "229." We already know July 31, 1971 can be converted to "1010"--that's the connection that led me to the only known palindromic prime, which has a total of 150,007 digits. By the way, the number "150,007" simplifies to "4"--not only the total of both days we've been using in our calendar dates converted from base 10 (22 is 2+2=4 and 31 is 3+1=4), but "4" also simplifies to 11:11 (today's date).

So, what is the equation for the only known palindromic number in the Universe?

Two "10's" (or 1010) encompassing a "74" and "47," which then flank the "226"--multiplied by 2, of course. Plus one (which is a ten, minus the zero in happy numbers).

Essentially, if we were to break that down into dates, it becomes 10-11 October, 31 July and 22 June. These dates are all  inextricably connected by the mathematics of the Universe (which is ridiculously cool on a myriad of levels for a plethora of reasons). 

Numerologists would have a field day. When we see the palindromic number above as calendar dates, there are indicators for miracles (77) for the "double 4" (those born on dates that add up to "4" like the 22nd and 31st; "4" is also associated by spiritualists as the 4th dimension or "angelic realm" and is part of the twin flame narrative). The "miracles" (77)  are connected to master builders (22) and the home (6). An interesting side note, "31" (from 31 July) is associated with "the goddess." All good news, really. The caveat for anyone who prescribes to the spiritual side of numbers is to remember that Fate and Destiny work together--you have to act in order to receive your miracle once a synchronicity becomes apparent--think of it as a marker on a map. Synchronicity can then be viewed as an opportunity to evaluate what's needed to achieve goals that will improve both home-life and relationship(s). 

Physical change, not fantasy, supports future goals. However, fantasy fuels our ability to conceptualise how we go about making the changes necessary to achieve our dreams--whether personal or professional.

If you think synchronicity is just some new-age concept for hippies or spiritualists (or people who have read The Secret one too many times), you may want to think again: 

Psychologist Carl Jung's work on synchronicity influenced Wolfgang Pauli, who would later be nominated by Albert Einstein for a Nobel Prize in Physics (thanks to his collaboration with Jung and the "golden scarab" of synchronicity). The joining of psychology and physics (as well as the resulting philosophy) led to breakthroughs in not only the nature of the universe, but it also helped further science's understanding of our very existence--in large part, thanks to the numbers.

Note, regardless of the calendar date, one may still bloom and grow relationships, improving overall domestic life. In fact, every physical action taken towards positive change ensures success. At some point, an effective "critical mass" is reached. In physics, that leads to a chain reaction of nuclear proportions. It's the same in our personal lives as well.... 

The double-ten referred to in the palindromic number is a rock star in the eyes of numerology. Ten represents
the cosmos, creation itself. When doubled, it's a powerhouse of both possibility and probability, adding up to awakening (or "11") of the double-divine ("0" represents the divine, doubled from the 1010). In Hebrew, the name of God is derived from two letters that have the numerical value of 10, so God or heaven (or the Universe at large, if you will) is literally a "1010" (I give more detail on this in the "Jonathan" piece published on this blog on 25 August 2019). 

Frankly, I've never seen Destiny in the same way as Fate. Destiny is a choice--you create your own. While Fate is something you wait for. In psychology, these two different definitions break down to being proactive (choosing your destiny) vs reactive (waiting for fate to happen). But very recently, it's been my experience that both can exist simultaneously, one working with the other. That was Wolfgang Pauli's experience, too--and it earned him a Nobel Prize.

That same synergy is apparent everywhere in the physical universe. It's essentially a quantum entanglement--the body and the soul, as it were. Two very different things coming together to form one perfect moment, or person, or tree, or animal, or maybe, a pair of lovers moving as one, their kundalini rising in unison for simultaneous release as their foreheads touch, whispers and sighs becoming their ethereal guardians across time and space...speaking of which, even electromagnetism is an iteration of a quantum entanglement.
 
When I do research within poetics, or any discipline, it is inextricably informed by mathematics. I sometimes wish the world spoke through numbers instead of words. Words can mask the truth. Yet, they can also be used for great good.

Our words create confusion, chaos. Fear of loss (from loss) is at the root of it. That's why I've always thought of love as a choice--it meant I was in control somehow. Numbers are definite. A sure-thing. Love never has been. So, to open my heart (and mind) to the possibility of love that is not chosen (but fated) instead of the probability (and comfort) numbers provide hasn't been easy. I had to come to terms with the fact that, while numbers don't lie, they can still be a distraction, as Pauli discovered when he stopped thinking like a physicist and started thinking like a philosopher. That's how he made the biggest breakthrough of his career. I'm hoping for a similar breakthrough, just on a much more personal (and far less public) level.

While there's nothing wrong with putting faith in numbers, they don't exactly tell the full story. That's where our hearts come into play. Mine was whispering to me. Then, it started screaming. I'm so glad I finally listened. The numbers simply backed up what my heart (and soul) already knew. If Pauli, Einstein and Jung are correct, my happily-ever-after has already happened. I just have to (patiently) navigate the physical space between here and there. 

The same is true for you, too....

#HappyNumbers

Post-script: I took the photo (see insert) while hiking in one of my favourite spots at sunset, thinking of a beloved person I dearly miss (and wished, hoped and prayed for). As the Sun hung low on the horizon, teasing the silhouetted trees with a flickering tongue of orange light, I realised I was once again caught in the dark, alone. I'm rather hopeless when it comes to being alone in the woods at night, despite multiple encounters with coyote and more than one with a female grey wolf, whom I befriended--at least to the extent one may befriend a wild wolf. On this particular evening, after taking the photo, things got very dark, very fast--cold, too. I remember walking in the pitch, my breath preceding me along the silent grave(l) path. I  looked back only once, like Coleridge in his "rime" about an "ancient mariner."  Once was enough for the Romantic poet--in romance, one person in particular is enough for the poetry of my soul, too. It is 11:11 after all...and, by no small coincidence, so is he.

Memory seizes the mind. Maybe it's a smell, a familiar whiff of perfume. Or, the delicate taste of toffee pudding with whipped cream and caramel sauce lingering on the tip of your tongue. Perhaps it's a place that jogs loose the thought of a tender kiss--soft pink lips pressed on yours as hands slide on silken skin to clasp fingers, now intertwined.

Does it make you weep, too? The memories, so sweet, you can barely believe it possible. But it is possible. It happened. It was real. Even if it sometimes feels more akin to a dream, the kind you never want to wake up from....

Incredible how love that pure doesn't hurt. It holds you tightly to its chest in such a way as not to forget the moment...the last before love walks across the hall, only to knock on your door again within hours. Love writes you notes of affection, slipping it under the threshold while you're away, asking you to dance, to sing, to laugh, to whisper, and to sigh a million little sighs all over again.

As a physical being, one may miss love when not in physical contact. But love that's pure is like a channel, the current of which carries you--your body, suspended in light and warmth. Like when the tide ushers welcome waters from the Gulf into the cold Atlantic off of Cape Cod. You're surrounded by the most glorious crystalline sensation. It's as though you are a molecule in a vast ocean of molecules, moving together, a constant stream of consciousness flowing between you. That's love. The real kind. Pure. Natural. Sunshine on your skin, kissing your hair golden blonde. When love smiles, it crinkles and creases the corners of your eyes. Tears of joy trail a watery map to happiness down your cheeks. Love is the compulsion to write, to express, to create--because you can. Because, your every thought hovers in the wanton winds of close margins, impregnated with unmitigated love.

Love is the Universe in a single sigh. It's your tongue dropping from the roof of your mouth, shoulders relaxed. It's a deep breath before closing your eyes and seeing the person who is your person, gazing back at you. In a tub made for two. You catch a glimpse of the stolen moment through the hole love pierces in spacetime. Just for you. Just so you'd know that the future is not just bright, it's brilliant. Epic. Better than you could have ever imagined or dreamed or hoped for. So is the person who embodies that love for you. Golden, glowing, and slightly out of breath from trying to catch you before you slip through yet another door. An hour or so later, you walk through the doors of time together. As you did before. And as you will again. 

A beloved gift of divinity. It's you. It's me. It's we. 

Until I see you again....

#AKissGoodnight 

Kissin U

​Miranda Cosgrove

Sparks fly
It's like electricity
I might die
When I forget how to breathe
You get closer and there's
Nowhere in this world I'd rather be
Time stops
Like everything around me
It's frozen
And nothing matters but these
Few moments when you open my mind to things
I've never seen
'Cause when I'm kissin' you
My senses come alive
Almost like the puzzle piece
I've been trying to find
Falls right into place
You're all that it takes
My doubts fade away
When I'm kissin' you
When I'm kissin' you
It all starts making sense
And all the questions
I'm asking in my head
Like are you the one should I really trust
Crystal clear it becomes
When I'm kissin' you
Past loves
They never got very far
Walls up
Made sure I'm guarding my heart
And I promised I wouldn't do this
'Til I knew it was right for me
But no one (no one)
No guy that I met before
Could make me (make me)
Feel so right and secure
And have you noticed
I lose my focus
And the world around me disappears
'Cause when I'm kissin' you
My senses come alive
Almost like the puzzle piece
I've been trying to find
Falls right into place
You're all that it takes
My doubts fade away
When I'm kissin' you
When I'm kissin' you
It all starts making sense
And all the questions
I've been asking in my head
Like are you the one should I really trust
Crystal clear it becomes
When I'm kissin' you
I've never felt nothing like this
You're making me open up
No point in even trying to fight this
It kinda feels like it's love
'Cause when I'm kissin' you
My senses come alive
Almost like the puzzle piece
I've been trying to find
Falls right into place
You're all that it takes
My doubts fade away
When I'm kissin' you
When I'm kissin' you
It all starts making sense
And all the questions
I've been asking in my head
Like are you the one should I really trust
Crystal clear it becomes
When I'm kissin' you

Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Claude Kelly / Lukasz Gottwald
Kissin U lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc

Tu me manques is French for "I miss you." But it actually means, "You are missing from me." That's how it feels when we are separated from the person who is our person. I've used it before--the French phrase. But until recently, I never understood the true feeling of love. I knew love in a way that was more choice-driven. You meet someone you think is physically acceptable, who shares your basic ethics and goals and you decide to love them. In psychology, there's evidence that proximity can be a factor in our choice to love someone or not. The similarities in your names and faces are also factors. Employment, earning power and religion are things people consider as well. But real love is not a choice. Because, real love happens when you least expect it. It's pure in that way. No agenda. No plan. No intention. You just turn around, and boom! Love.

In the past, I've experienced the sensation of a brick being thrown in my face and translated that as love. That's how clueless I was. Love equaled pain. If it hurt to care, then it must be love, right???

Wrong. So very, very wrong....

Reclaiming Agency

I think many of us don't know what real love is supposed to be like. We base our love-decisions on need, not want.

Why is that a problem?

Need-based decisions come from a place of vulnerability. When we are vulnerable, or feel weakened in some way, we can't make a true choice. Surviving trumps thriving in those moments.

What can weaken an individual, or make someone vulnerable? It's usually abuse. I use my art (poetry/writing, painting, nature photography, cooking, etc.) as a way to return to mindfulness. Being mindful or self-aware is the only way an abused individual can reclaim agency after abuse. Otherwise, your abuser(s) remain(s) in control, even if you manage to escape somehow. That's part of the context of self-sabotage.

Resiliency is born from creativity. When you finally meet the person who is to become your person, if you have come from a background of abuse, your first instinct may likely direct you to run away, or push them away somehow. Maybe you ghost them. Maybe you sleep with someone else. Maybe you simply make a unilateral decision that the person you've fallen for couldn't possibly be available or some similar justification like, "I'm not good enough," or "s/he'd never be interested in me for the long haul." But the person who is your person will be undaunted by self-sabotaging behaviours. The person who is your person will not see your cracks, crevices, bumps or bruises as negative--they'll find you charming. Lovable. Magnetic, even. When you come from a place of abuse, it's hard to register the real deal as legitimately real--because, deep-down, a person who comes from abuse never feels worthy. That's why any creative expression is not just about mindfulness, it's about confidence, too. When we build a body of creative work, we have physical evidence that we are not "stupid" or "useless" or "unworthy." There's nothing more powerful.

How Abuse Can Keep Hurting Us As Adults

Even when the person who is your person is right there in front of you, showing you that they want, need and love you, it is often hard to accept for the abused individual. Think of it like Stockholm Syndrome--except, instead of being physically held captive, you are in more of a psychological prison. That's why institutionalization happens to prisoners--it's a variation on the same psychological theme. It also happens to those who are in the military. You stop believing you're worthy of anything but the life you've chosen--however, for lifers (usually equating to 20 years of service), it's not always a true choice. It's just the best choice, one that will help keep you fed and clothed and provide for you and a family. You need to sign up for service--because you need money for college and/or need a job. It's the rare individual with supportive family and friends who signs up for service after getting a viable college degree--that's more of a choice in that it's driven by want, not need. 

Human psychology is based on the want-system. We generally all do what we want. Any healthy, employed adult over 30 not doing what they want is likely trapped in a cycle of abuse in some form or other. The number of people I talk to about love relationships in their 30's, 40's and even 50's who are incredibly unhappy is staggering. There are far too many of us making choices about love that are not true choices. It can lead to a host of physical, fiscal and mental health issues, too. There's nothing worse than feeling stuck or trapped as an adult. Time magazine's June 2019 article on the rise in suicide over the last 20 years is evidence that far too many of us feel trapped or stuck to the extent that death appears to be an option. Bloomberg recently reported that men over 50 are having financial crises due to divorce. But the article failed to mention that women over 40 are the fastest rising demographic of homeless for the very same reason.

There's no such thing as "necessary" trauma (or drama)--it's all just a distraction. A way to prevent ourselves from being happy. If we struggle through life we don't have to take responsibility for our actual emotions. Part of cultural DNA, if you will. However, there is a way out of unhappy relationships that doesn't involve bankruptcy or homelessness (or, death). It's called real love. We just have to brave enough to pursue it....

Real love is the miracle of humanity. Find it and keep it by any means necessary. If the person you're with isn't someone that makes you want to say, "Tu me manques, mon amour," then you're with the wrong person. Maybe it's convenience or just plain old-fashioned fear of being alone. Whatever your excuse for staying in a relationship that is not working, get yourself financially stable and get out. Life is too short to waste precious moments with people who drain your energy: The takers who choose to focus on negatives instead of positives and those who withhold affection and love--that's absolutely abusive.

At the end of your life, you will have regrets--we all will. But don't allow letting real love walk away be one of them. Kids eventually grow up and have their own lives. Beloved pets are only with us for a short time. Houses are just houses. But a person who truly loves you? That's a lifetime of irreplaceable affection and happiness. A fucking lifetime. There's no job, no family member, no reasonable reason to not pursue real love if you're a healthy, employed adult over 30. The only reason to stay with people who don't love us is self-sabotage. Your abusers--whoever they are or were--have won when you let them continue to hurt you through your own hand. 

Commit to Yourself First and Foremost

Make a promise to yourself to do whatever you have to do to get out of a relationship that is not giving you the love you want, need and deserve. Set weekly and monthly goals to work toward independence. A year from now (or less), you can at least leave. I was recently talking to a psychologist colleague about a patient in her 40's who finally found love but is otherwise stuck in a domestic situation that includes emotional and financial abuse. She doesn't know how to leave her situation and still remain whole. My colleague pointed out that divorce isn't necessary to be happy. In the States, it's possible to dissolve a marriage in a month or two. But in Ireland or UK, it can be years of living apart--at least two--before divorce can happen. And if one party contests, a divorce can take up to five years or more. That's a very long time to wait for happiness. Haven't you waited long enough? Survive or thrive...those are the only two choices we can make when it comes to love and relationships. And that choice is up to you, and you alone.

If you're tired of just trying to survive your life, why not make a choice that will allow you to thrive? What do you have to lose??? Friends and family don't have to live with the consequences of you staying in an unhealthy relationship. Their opinions are irrelevant as a result. If you've been abused or suffered hardship and difficulty in your lifetime, you've likely been the victim of the ruthlessness of others. In all my life, the happiest I've ever been are in those moments where I decided to live for myself. It's not "selfish" to be happy--anyone who says otherwise does not love you. They also likely benefit from your unhappiness in some way. So, the only person you really have to worry about is you. 

Forward Momentum

People will back you up if you are confident in your choices. It's hard for anyone to oppose real happiness--socially, they'll be perceived as "haters" if they do. Petty, jealous and full of envy. While the person courageous enough to choose real love and happiness will be seen as a hero, inspiring others to do the same. 

Never give up on yourself, even when others have. If real love has happened in your life, and you know it, don't stop until you can be with the person who is your person. Even if you're over 60 as you read this, wouldn't you rather have 1-20+ years with a person you truly love and who truly loves you than not???

It's never too late in life to get your happily-ever-after. You are worthy of that miracle. So am I....

#LoveHappens 

PS: The photo (see insert) was taken on 22 October 2019, 5:59pm. I was thinking of someone I love while driving home from the gym, admittedly a little distracted...until I looked up, and, there it was! A full rainbow. It was actually a double but I couldn't catch it with my phone from the car. As I continued to drive home, I noted that the rainbow seemed to be originating from my house(!). I decided to follow the other end. It took me to a patch of woods near a school. As the sun set in the opposite direction, the sky became a blaze of orange. If you've ever been to Africa, you know what I mean. I stayed and watched the rainbow until it faded away, turning into a starry night. But the next morning, the rainbow reappeared, still there. It was the third rainbow (of four) that I'd seen in two weeks time on both sides of the pond. It felt like a moment of magic--full of hope and promise. If you are struggling with love relationships right now, this rainbow is a sign to never give up on finding real love--it's the ultimate treasure at the end of every rainbow (or lifetime, especially those that begin in Ireland and stretch across the Atlantic). 

Airplanes

B.o.B

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now
Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now

Yeah, yeah I could use a dream or a genie or a wish
To go back to a place much simpler than this
Cause after all the partying and smashing and crashing
And all the glitz and glam and the fashion
And all the pandemonium and all the madness
There comes a time when you fade to the blackness
And when you're staring at the phone in your lap
And you hoping but them people never call you back
But that's just how the story unfolds
You get another hand soon after you fold
And when your plans unravel in the sand
What would you wish for, if you had one chance?
So airplane airplane sorry I'm late
I'm on my way so don't close that gate
If I don't make that then I'll switch my flight and
I'll be right back at it by the end of the night

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now
Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now

Yeah yeah somebody take me back to the days
Before this was a job before I got paid
Before it ever mattered what I had in my bank
Yeah back when I was trying to get a tip at subway
And back then I was rapping for the hell of it
But nowadays we rapping to stay relevant
I'm guessing if can make some wishes out of airplanes
Then maybe oh maybe I'll go back to the days
Before the politics that we call the rap game
And back when ain't nobody listened to my mix tape
And back before when I tried to cover up my slang
But this is for the Decatur what's up Bobby Ray
So can I get a wish to end the politics
And get back to the music that started this shit
So here I stand and then again I say
I'm hoping we can make some wishes outta airplanes

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now
Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shootin' stars
I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now
I could really use a wish right now
I, I, I could really use a wish right now
Like, like, like shootin' stars
I, I, I could really use a wish right now
A wish a wish right now

Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Justin Franks / Jeremy Dussolliet / Timothy Sommers / Christine Dominguez / Bobby Ray Simmons / Alexander Junior Grant
Airplanes lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc, Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.