333 San Pellegrino Way

Three weeks after my cross country move, I lost a significant body of energy in the 3D world. But for my being it is doubled edged because I also gained another set of wings.

Prior to my grandfather departing this lifetime, I had come to grips with my own gifts. So while yes I had to grief this loss, I also opened my heart to his spirit long before the passing of his ego. I saw my grandfather the Sunday before my move. And as we sat on his porch and chatted about my decisions and what was to come I remember so vividly the signs I received in this moment. Our entire memory bank flashed before me like a movie; an award winner. I knew our time together was done. I knew I could go 2,000 miles away and he would meet me there. We hugged once more, and I knew. The arm wrap was different, the touch was softer, warmer, the energy flow between chest walls running at the speed of light. It was then that I knew his spirit was ready, and so was mine.

He spirit spent two weeks in limbo, due to his ego entrapping him. It is very hard for us as a whole to believe that western medicine can intervene with time and space. You can fight me later on this, but when it’s time, it’s time. Our shells only received 1 punch card at a time. When there are no more empty boxes what do you think we must do? Without death, there is no birth.

Through my gift and the development of my own manifesting, everything that entered my new life has been or had been chosen for me. (And yes, I cannot express my gratitude enough.) When I first got here I would find things that my lifestyle needed access to, to maintain this life: mind, body, spirit. Those same three weeks I spent calling my grandfather’s spirit, I also spent touring Las Vegas to its entirety. And found a variety of spots that would then tie into my story as time went on. I found this gem called Calico Basin. You can go as low or as high as you wish, free roam, in Red Rock Canyon. Something about the freedom to roam is really satisfying to me if you haven’t noticed. I would come to my spot: sit, talk, laugh, dance, cry, workout, you name it. Time and space stop and move all at once.

In December I ventured to Indiana to surprise my grandma for her 75th birthday. And my father gave me my grandfather’s ashes in two canisters. I brought him back to Vegas and waited on him to tell me where he wanted to go. My ego held on to him, but my soul knew I had to do what he wanted. After having him with me spiritually for four months and physically for six weeks, he finally said “I want to go to the mountain with you” and I already knew he meant Calico. The night of my half birthday we came to sunset, barely making it on time because he insisted we stop at Kohl’s. (That’s another story!) I hadn’t seen the moon in a few days and I jokingly asked him, “did you leave me anything up there so I know you’re here.” And he said to me, “I gave you the moon.” Sure enough, we looked up and there she was. A sliver of light, in a pure blue sky. I said to him, “oh..you’re good.” A few days before this occurred I was at home and really caught up in the feeling that I couldn’t call him. Or share this life. That he was missing it and he had never missed anything I’ve done. He has quite literally seen me do everything I’ve done. And for the first time I couldn’t share this thing, my favorite thing thus far. As we were walking the path to the spot he wanted, my shuffle played “Home” by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros. We’ve all heard it a hundred times or more. But have you ever listened to the message of these songs in the midst of absorbing in time and space? Like it was yesterday, I remember, me and him walking up the mountain, suns down, moons out, and the song says “I’ve been everywhere with you.” It was in that moment I understood home was far from a place, but more of a feeling. My ego lead me to believe we would be late. But he knew the plan, it was all for him anyways. At 5:33 he was placed in the mountain with the moon watching and the crickets (my favorite) chirping.

Let’s fast forward to March. My aunt was in town, and to show her some of what Vegas has to offer I brought her to Calico. I chatted with grandpa, climbed the mountain, and there it was. Home. But this time it IS a place. I often tell myself “I wish I could just live RIGHT here.” I darted across the mountain to find a cave, a sight, let me tell ya. The elevation is 4,000 ft., Las Vegas no longer exists, and all you see is Earth. All you smell is Earth. All I had was my bottle of San Pellegrino, jeans and T, boots, and a Chicago Cubs baseball hat. My grandpa the mountain to my left, his perfect lavender flowers blooming. Sitting in my cave. I felt whole. I felt satisfaction in its purest form. I put my name on it, a street address, and said “I’ll be back!”

It’s just… home. The feeling. And now a place.

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