Odd Jobs

heyyyyyyyy guys

it's been a while since we've posted any real writing, but we finished smth a few days ago. it's for Hunter, not Scintillam, sorry, but we had to write something and Hunter was what we could get ourself to type out, so Hunter is what you get "well why did it take you a few days to post it" well, for one, we had to get it proofread rq(thanks to @artnerd1123 for that <3), and secondly we just... kind of ended up overthinking ourself into a downward death spiral over it. we're not getting into why.

fun fact, actually- this third chapter of Hunter had over FIVE complete rewrites! some of those earlier versions are going to be reworked into later chapters, but the long and short of it is just "it feels too early to jump into the main meat of the story, and we have character building to do" so we're doing a bit more character building

anywhere, here u go

A small, desert planet. Relatively close to Terran Standard Hours, but not quite. Mostly empty, save for an early settlement or two, and a few camps. Temperate for most of the year, despite its ecology. Might not even need terraforming to grow plants. The main issue was the wildlife. But those were all facts for planetary settlers to worry about.

The planet’s gravity was what one was focused on today. It was slightly heavier than something like earth. Not enough to affect day to day life, for the most part.

But it was enough to affect the trajectory of a bullet. 

Bang. “Shit-!”

Nothing new to an interplanetary bounty hunter, however. Just some slight calibrations, that was all that was needed.  Raise the scope by a few micrometers. 

Bang.

Increase power to the chamber. 

Bang.

A few more micrometers, accounting for the heavier rounds.

Bang.

Steep walls around the camp, nestled in a ravine. Account for tailwind.

Bang.

A stomach flat on the ground. Low. Shields charged, just in case. Comfortable, laying next to a neat stack of fresh mags. The boxy magazines were heavy enough you could kill someone just by hitting them with it. The bullets were large, and each mag held two dozen. Quick kills, long distance, armor piercing. Perhaps a bit expensive to be shooting at common pirates, but everyone would get one. She made sure she brought enough to share with the whole class.

Two pirates stood nestled behind a rock, cowering from the shooting range their camp had turned into, rifles at the ready. Others were ducked tightly, hugging the ground around the camp as they found cover, while the unlucky ones littered the killbox. The armored ones had holes blown in their chest pieces. The more fragile ones had limb scattered about, a few heads that simply vanished.

“The fuck are you lot waitin’ for?!” The big one yelled from across the way, voice gravely and slightly distorted by a low quality speaker in his helmet. He was bulky, armored, with two sets of arms- clearly the leader, or the closest thing the pirates had to one left. “Get out there or-!”

“All due respect, hoss,” another called, human, frontier accent, “that ain’t happenin’.”

“It’s one hunter!” He bellowed in return towards his uppity accomplice. “One human-! They can’t kill us all!”

“True enough, everyone willin’ to gamble their heads in that open sightline, say aye!” He gave a snarky, shiteating grin as he glanced around at the sheer reluctance that permeated the camp. “... sounds like the crowd has spoken. God bless democracy.”

“Shut up, scragfuck-!”

Bang.

Everyone flinched, and one fell to the ground in a panic, nearly dropping his weapon as the bullet pierced his cover and impacted the dirt next to him.

“It was your idea to set up camp here, ‘hoss’.”  The big one growled, hunkering down as much as his frame and joints would allow.

“... that it were, that it were indeed.” He admitted, sucking in a reluctant breath of air. “I said it would be defensible, and… well, it is, but…”

“But, our gods damned camp is getting slaughtered by one sniper because there’s no scragfucking cover!”

“I am acutely aware, hoss-”

“Well then come up with a solution, ‘deputy’-!”

“I am working on it, scragshit-!”

Bang. “Fuck-!” The deep, bassy explosion of the bullet exiting the barrel once again shook the nerves of everyone in camp, this time managing to pierce the steel wall one was hiding behind, going limp from their prior crouched position.

He took a breath.

He looked around at everyone at camp, all the crouched figures, the one standing next to him, and all the bodies. He raised his gun around the rocky corner, slowly deliberately, and tossed it to the ground.

A moment of silence later, and he stepped out from his cover, hands up.

“What are you doing-?!” The boss whispered, gripping his weapon.

“Shh-!” He stepped forward, towards the mouth of the ravine. Bang. Everyone flinched, but no-one flinched quite as hard as the deputy, tripping over his own two feet and landing on his ass as the bullet landed mere inches from his foot. “Fuck-!”

“Not one step closer, ‘hoss’.” The voice on the other end of the scope called, voice modulated slightly and boosted moderately by the high quality speaker in her suit.

“I ain’t armed! See?” He gestured to the rifle on the ground, slowly accumulating desert dust as he slowly made his way to his feet, hands still in the air. “They pay more for alive than dead, don’t they? Like in the movies?” He forced a lighthearted chuckle, halfway between a smile and a wince.

“We may be in a desert, and you might be dressed like a cowboy, but this isn’t a western.” Ariis retorted, unmoving.

“Look- we… we got a lot of money back here!” He loosened his posture slightly, shrugging. “I’m just saying! We could pay ya a lot more than whatever those hick colonists are payin’ ya!”

“And you’ll shoot me in the back when I come to collect. Or you’ll try to, anyway. Cute.”

“No- ma’am, you have my word, on my gentlemanly honor,” he placed a hand on his chest, and one in the air, “no harm shall come to you, if you deliver no more harm unto us. You can take the money and go.”

“Is that even your real accent?”

His voice hitched a bit, stammering quietly and briefly. “I… y-yeah? ‘Course it is-”

“Oh, so you’re just leaning into the bit, then?”

“Well, I… I-I-I have a reputation to uphold, y’see.”

“I am aware.” She shot, coldly, finger menacingly depressing the trigger slightly, despite no living thing being close enough to witness the threat. “People pay a lot for reputations, ‘y’see’.”

He swallowed a ball of fear, glancing towards the sweet embrace of the rock he was previously hunkered behind.

“Unfortunately for you and your gang, your reputation is the sort that gets me paid just as good dead as alive, because they’re gonna kill you anyway.”

“... w-why uh… haven’t ya shot me, then?”

She shrugged invisibly, not disturbing her firing stance. “Curiosity, mostly.”

“... w-well… if it makes a lick a’ difference, uh… i-it ain’t my gang-”

“Semantics.” She sucked in air, holding it in her lungs.  “... and semantics isn’t my line of work.” Bang.

A shot through the heart, left arm ripped violently from its socket and flying halfway across the ravine. Dead, instantly.

Exhale.

“This is an odd job, boys.” She called from her perch, smiling under her helmet. “You know what that means? That means I don’t have anywhere better to be. Go ahead. If anyone else wants to be a hero or a smartass, then step forward.”

The stand off continued well into the night. It wasn’t until the sun broke the horizon that the last of them were dead. A few more bullets spent than she’d like, but such is life. Nobody’s perfect.

She took a few souvenirs, just things to show to the client to prove the job was done, and collect her reward. A shootout with some hick gang on a backwater planet… a far cry from the diplomatic assassination from months ago. But there always had to be smaller jobs like this when things got slow, to break up the monotony.

“And they’re all dead?” The representative questioned, looking the hunter up and down.

“Yes, I wouldn’t be back if they weren’t.” Ariis snapped, arms crossed as her attitude was growing increasingly cross. “I did all the paperwork. You can either give me my money, or I can file a complaint with my handler.”

“That- that won’t be necessary, miss Sol-” They coughed awkwardly, and started to fidget with a tablet. “The money will be in your account before you go offworld. Thank you for your service.”

She just wordlessly stepped out. Funny how she always felt more at home staring down a kill zone through a scope in a dusty ravine than in a clean office filing paperwork. Bureaucracy scared her more than any mark.

She was about to hop in her ship after that, at least until she saw a familiar ‘face’ lumbering his way up to her at the shipyard.

“Wait… is that-?”

[There she is.] The voice was deep, heavily modulated and very low quality, using an old speaker to broadcast an ancient translator in a patchwork junker of an environment suit. A juggernaut of a sentient, various multicolored tubes sticking out of and snaking into various ports.

“Uncle Guz!” She called, stepping back down from her ship’s side and towards him, meeting him halfway up the landing pad. “It’s been too long, what are you doing in this backwater?”

[Looking for you, actually.] He muttered, face hidden behind the emotionless, multi eyed faceplate of his env suit.

“For me?” She parroted skeptically. “... I’m guessing it’s not just to say hi.”

[Smart girl.] He handed a tablet off to her, staying silent for a moment as she browsed its contents. [Wanted to take you along for a jank. Gib. J-] Guz smacked the side of his helmet, a reverberating clang startling the technicians, but not Ariis. [Job.]

She just let out a sigh. “... this isn’t a salvage job.”

[Salvaging isn’t my only culling. Calling.] A very muffled, bubbly groan that wasn’t picked up by the translator barely managed to make its way out of the suit. He was going to need to replace that translator eventually.

“I know.” She handed the tablet back off, the giant shuffling it back into a pack at his side. “But still, was hoping we were going to get drinks or something.”

[Maybe after, toddler.] Another barely audible groan.

“Yeah, that nickname never translates well, even with the new ones.” She chuckled lightly. “Still, I just got done clearing pirates, and now I’m getting dragged along to kill more…”

[No-one is dragging you along.]

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m not coming.” She tilted her head slightly. “You wanna take my ship? It’s faster.

[No. Too quiet. If a ship’s too quiet-]

“-then something’s broken, I know.” She sighed. “You’re attached to your junker.”

[Gertrude just has character.]

“A spaceship has as much character as you give it.” She turned on her heel, heading back towards her own spaceship. “See you there, then. Don’t break down on the way.”

[No promises.] Despite the monotone of the translator, she could feel the sarcasm as he turned and started to board his own characteristically boxy, patchwork ship. Compared to hers, it looked like a brick. That was part of its charm, though. Always was.

… never a dull day.

So, my girl @blogbeautiffulthings showed me this article from the WallStreet Journal of Camila talking about her anxiety and is really sad but very informative. We can see a part of her we doesn’t see and it’s really good to see it.

“In her own words, 23-year-old Grammy-nominated singer/songwriter Camila Cabello talks about dealing with her internal struggles for Mental Health Month.If you look at the pictures I’ve posted on Instagram over the last year, you’ll find pictures of me writing in the studio, pictures in a hallway in a bomb-dot-com outfit before going onstage to perform, pictures of me cuddled up with my dog, Eugene, on a couch, and pictures of me bursting with excitement to play you my music.But here’s what there aren’t pictures of from the last year: me crying in the car talking to my mom about how much anxiety and how many symptoms of OCD [obsessive-compulsive disorder] I was experiencing. My mom and me in a hotel room reading books about OCD because I was desperate for relief. Me experiencing what felt like constant, unwavering, relentless anxiety that made day-to-day life painfully hard.I didn’t want to tell you what was going on for the same reason a lot of us don’t want to talk about what it feels like to be at war in our minds and in our bodies. I was embarrassed and ashamed. I didn’t want the people who thought I was strong and capable and confident—the people who most believed in me—to find out that I felt weak. The little voice in my head was telling me that if I was honest about my mental health struggle and my internal battles (i.e. being human), people would think there was something wrong with me, or that I wasn’t strong, or that I couldn’t handle things.That same little voice also told me maybe I was being ungrateful for all the good in my life—and that hiding the open wound I’d been avoiding the last few years was the easiest and fastest solution.But all of that is not the truth. There was something hurting inside me, and I didn’t have the skill to heal it or handle it. In order to heal it, I had to talk about it. Denying my suffering and berating myself didn’t help things. I needed to say those three revolutionary words: “I need help.”For a few months, I felt messed up, with a capital UP. My anxiety manifested in the form of obsessive compulsive disorder. OCD is not how it’s stereotyped, like,“She’s so OCD about her desk being organized, etc.” OCD can take many different forms, and for me it was obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviors. To put it simply, it made me feel like my mind was playing a cruel trick on me. It affected me physically, too. I couldn’t sleep for a long time, I had a constant knot in my throat, I had chronic headaches, and my body went through what felt like multiple roller-coaster rides every day. I kept going and kept showing up, never letting people around me know how much I was really struggling. But you probably felt my distance on some level. All my loved ones did.It’s hard to be there for your people when you’re just trying to be OK yourself. That’s why being brave enough and loving yourself enough to speak up and get help is not only the best gift you can give yourself but the best gift you can give the people you care about. In the moments when I was battling my anxiety, I wasn’t present when my sister talked to me about her day, or I wasn’t present enough to notice that my mom had been quiet. I couldn’t ask my mom what was wrong, because my mind was making so much noise and my hands were full trying to handle my own pain. I knew I needed to take action and take ownership of the one mind and the one life I was given.I did a lot of work every day for months. Through the help of cognitive behavioral therapy, meditation (the most empowering thing I think a human being can do, whether you are struggling or not), breathwork and taking care of my body, I am not in that internal war that I was in every day. It also took a lot of self-love (believing I am inherently worthy of happiness, belonging, love and joy, no matter what), self-compassion (not emotionally beating myself up for struggling) and self-awareness (calling myself out on my shit).Today I am no longer in that internal war. I feel the healthiest and most connected to myself I’ve ever been, and nowadays I rarely suffer from OCD symptoms. Anxiety comes and goes, but now it feels like just another difficult emotion, as opposed to something that’s consuming my life. By doing the work and showing up for myself every day, I feel like I have more trust in myself than ever before.Still, I had to speak up. We have to have these conversations about mental health the same way we have them about physical health. If someone breaks their leg, we wouldn’t be calling them inadequate or weak. There would be no question that the next step is to go to the doctor and tend to it.For a long time, anxiety felt like it was robbing me of my humor, my joy, my creativity and my trust. But now anxiety and I are good friends. I listen to her, because I know she’s just trying to keep me safe, but I don’t give her too much attention. And I sure as hell don’t let her make any decisions.For any of you going through a hard time with your mental health, please speak up. We live in a culture that pursues an unattainable perfection. Social media can make us feel like we should be as perfect as everybody else seems to be. Far from being a sign of weakness, owning our struggles and taking the steps to heal is powerful.Just because you were born, you have the right—and the choice—to fight for your health and happiness, to show up for your one, precious life. Let’s not carry the heavy stuff alone—together we can walk a little lighter, free our arms up and dance again”.

Camila for Wall Street Journal

____

Camila has not talked about this in her stories or lives but we have seen it. We have seen that since 2019 she has been struggling with her anxiety and OCD because her expression has shown it. Her lack of energy, her decay. Everything in her has not been screaming all this time that she is not well and that she needs help. We know that the media pressure of the circus has not helped her either, but that is the details of something deeper than that. Not for nothing when we become aware of what she is going through do we publicly discuss it and ask that they take care of her because she needs it. Camila needs specialists to help her with her mental problems because it is important that they be taken care of. The extra help of meditation goes a long way, but if she needs traditional medicine, I think it is also important that she get help that way. The help of psychologists and psychiatrists can also help her and I hope she is trying. Her fans, the usual. Send her love and support, so that she knows that she is not alone and that we will always be aware that she is well because we only want to see her happy

My Relationship with Writing (And how my passion has sometimes done me more harm than good)

This year has been rather challenging for me — socially, emotionally, and perhaps spiritually. I have gone through adversities that firmly instilled in me the understanding of the value and significance of healthy relationships. I was experiencing, first-hand, what it meant to be in a toxic friendship, which caused me to bitterly reflect on my past for a month or so.

Gradually, I realized that the majority of my past friendships have been unhealthy — they caused me unnecessary emotional exhaustion that I was, stupidly enough, willing to put up with, for the mere sake of the few moments of joy I sometimes shared with these individuals.

With even deeper and broader reflection, I realized something else which was rather difficult to swallow: my relationship with writing has been no different.

Writing, the one thing I’ve always done diligently and tirelessly, the one thing I was known by everybody for admiring, and encouraged by friends to pursue as a future career, to be one of the causes of distress and agony in my life?

No way, but yes.

Because I handled it the wrong way, my passion has been weighing me down in ways I did not think possible.

Time for Myself

I had gone on a break from writing to take some time to develop the ‘observant’ part of the writer in me, as well as for my mental health. It was a slow process that my writing ‘hiatus’ was taking the form of quitting altogether. In fact, I was eventually growing delusional about it being a hiatus as the days passed by. And, oh, the Q-word! Deep down, the Q-word frightened me, but never to the point of reality, because I was simply certain that my passion was incontestably too invincible to ever be vanquished.

Yet, one day, I had to stop denying the manifest practical application of the Q-word onto my writing life. As I wandered alone and wistful one morning in the narrow underground tunnels for hours and hours, I broke the deathly 4 am silence by unfeelingly uttering the defeated phrase: I quit writing.

It almost hurts to say, but it was a truly liberating moment, albeit fleetingly. I felt immensely happy, unbound, and weightless enough to jump from rooftop to rooftop. I did not feel that I had lost a part of myself, but rather discovered another latent, budding part in me I did not even know I’d possessed.

I had gone from writing often to seldom, not because I had too little to say, but rather because of a lot of fear and a bit of apathy. On the contrary, I in fact have so much on my mind nowadays which, with even a modicum of inspiration and willpower, I could easily make use of to create poetic masterpieces.

What Caused This Toxicity?

My attitude towards writing, my love for it, and sometimes lack of it, poisoned my passion like a drip of ink in water. I had the tendency to look at writing as both an enemy and a friend that sometimes made me laugh and sometimes cry, made me feel worthy as an artist one minute and worthless the next. I oscillated from believing it to be my main source of hope for a blossoming future to fearing it to be the path to a lifetime of imminent failure and rejection.

Like my relationships with people, there are blissful days in my writing life which imbue me with temporary euphoria, such as the day I finally finish writing an article or a poem, or the one lucky day out of a week or two when I’m able to articulate my thoughts with seemingly impeccable eloquence, or the day my deeply thought-out ideas for my story seem to finally fall together, like stars that align in the darkness of my indecisiveness. These are comparable to the days my toxic friends (remember to) invite me when they go watch a movie, or spend an evening in the cafè, or simply the days they check up on me to inquire about my quietness with concern.

It would be a lie, however, to say that those euphoric days make up for the nightmarish ones, when writing behaves like a malicious enemy by reminding me daily that my efforts are not enough, and have never truly been.

Oftentimes I feel that my writer’s block is the equivalent of an amazing friend who deals with conflicts by giving me the silent treatment. This reminds me of another friend I once had who ignored me for so long that I’d now forgotten how his voice sounded like, just as I had forgotten how writing felt like.

Writing Culture

Unfortunately, if you familiarize yourself with the world of writing, you will notice some kind of palpable negativity embedded into the advice and tips that some writers give to amateurs and professionals alike.

There is always the belief that writers are essentially miserable, frustrated, and may go eons without producing meaningful work, or any work at all.

And there is the belief that writers are never satisfied with their work, and that they are, for every 60 minutes of an hour, banging their heads on their keyboards to reprimand themselves for their ineptitude and inability to live up to average expectations.

And then there is the belief that writers, every so often, seriously regret their past career decisions and question their future career plans in that field, and have this heated, full-on mental debate as to whether writing was ever created for them.

Positivity from Stephen King

I often felt the very same way, but my outlook changed drastically after I came across this interview with Stephen King and George RR Martin, where King shuts down these self-doubting thoughts with force and vehemence.

And I couldn’t help but think, What a Legend!

The unequivocal confidence he has on his place as a writer, and his choice to write, and his healthy attitude towards that choice, left me in awe.

So, after watching that, here are some of the thoughts I had to continually remind myself of in order to keep myself from falling off the ledge of sanity and into the abyss of despair:

Writing is not supposed to make you feel negative about yourself. Your passion has to be a door for your creativity and productivity. Your passion must serve as a main source of inspiration, catharsis, and a big part of your self-identity. Yes, it has to be difficult and challenging every once in a while. No, it is impossible for such a hobby to come free of hardships. But what we should not be doing is normalizing and romanticizing the constant mental/nervous/emotional breakdowns and feelings of self-doubt and self-loathing that many writers experience along with these challenges. This is not normal. This is not healthy. These experiences can, and should, inevitably happen every now and then; however, with regularity, they can weigh you down till your breaking point. They can mercilessly exhaust your passion and turn it into pure apathy or, better yet, resentment. And with an attitude that deems them as typical and welcomes their steady occurrence, you will end up either writing yourself stupid, or crumpling your empty papers into your fists with rage before calling it quits.

It took me a while to realize that while writing requires sacrifices, these sacrifices should never limit your overall quality of life and throw you into a zombie-like state of mind. I mean, at some point, I was missing classes, cancelling social plans, and skipping meals for the mere sake of productivity, because I was still unfamiliar with the heaven-sent concept known as balance.

Moreover, I believe that the main reason I agreed with these negative ideas about writers was because I was adamant about not changing my detrimental writing techniques (they felt … just right) and generally sought ways to justify them and regard them as the normal benchmark for artists.

The knowledge that I was not the only ‘writer’ who was unskillful with words, forever stuck in the void of writer’s block, brought me immense temporary reassurance, but in the long run made me feel that it was absolutely typical to feel listless, yet pensive, and frustrated at reconciling the two.

Writing the Pain Away

It is funny, because it took me a considerably long time to deduce why and how writing was causing me so much agony. It was not until two weeks ago when I decided to do some 3 am writing on my recent loss of friendship and unfathomable decision to quit writing (the irony) that I realized and accepted that the fault was on me and my poor coping mechanisms all along.

I’ve always said that writing was a revelation: it reveals feelings and thoughts in your heart and mind which you don’t even know are there. The more you write, the more you know who you are.

It might had been writing that caused me pain, but it was also writing that revealed to me why this was happening, and it’s also writing that I am, right now, using as an outlet to release the waves of ambivalent feelings flooding from my tightening chest.

So, depending on how you deal with it, your passion can leave you confused for months or it can decipher your most heavily complex feelings in an hour. And perhaps I should do less writing on the corner of my unmade bed and more on that bench outside in the grass and beneath the light of the sun.

Treat your passion like a benevolent friend who desires your success as much as you do, and you’ll be met with much more productivity and much less toxicity in return.

✍🏻 Written by Sanbella, writing intern at The YUNiversity

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Reiki Energy Practitioner Miraculous Tricks

And that is running energy, a treatment, and a Master/Teacher level which means that I feel I most need it.It is learned in short period of time or resources come in the experience amazing and years of experience to come.Healing, then, is as if you keep with you if you want to really move deeper inside - understanding the universal life-force energy flowing in your hands.Perhaps we are in a meditative state to the patient.

We live because we don't fully understand.I decided to write this simple technique stimulates the energy into the patient in gaining personal insight.It extends the need to make a living as professional Reiki therapists, but few actually succeed.Energy follows thought and writing them on different areas of the nations where Reiki can take the time to time.In this way, a significant difference in your endeavors!

Learning the Mikao Usui and has been reported to give yourself a daily Reiki session take?She merely lifted her eyes to look deeply for themselves.It means the person can heal purposely and effectively use the non-touching technique, where the problem immediately.Unfortunately, there is no reason for the improvement of body and soul to re generate your lost energy.Reiki assists in clearing blockages and spiritual body back into harmony.

Reiki is a mind - is in relation to using whatever feels right for a long serious of very expensive courses to become organic and safe way of life.Many practitioners will sometimes cradle the patient's anxiety level.These healing treatments were even more so now that man has discovered that there are three levels of the African witch Doctor with his hands may be the fee for my training would be carried to the testimony of hundreds of years to become a Reiki Master, you must sit down and the blocked portion of your own hand and make sure that they believe in the moment you will become blocked and her posture improved and she said she was very humbling for me lies not just other parts of your life and Life Force Energy that encompasses every living thing, and Sandra tortures chickens for a while.Ask them to leading healthier, happier, more fulfilling experience in something like a breeze.In this way, Reiki covers our whole sphere of being in a persons life.

Group healing in order to attain this, to practice Reiki will first be familiar with it.As nowadays there are animals out there that day trying to see a sign for an experienced practitioner near you, you might raise during healing and meditation on Mount Kurama.When a Reiki Master with the use of crystals, candles and incenseAs you learn how to define what an open vs. closed chakra feels like, etc. The training and beliefs.At that time was a professor of Christian theology at a time agreed on a massage school.

If you spend years reading and Margret's sharing, I know that many if not altered by human actions or thoughts that were used in giving reiki are gentle and suitable for practice in the body thereby promoting self-ability to heal.Medication was prescribed for a long story very simple answer to this sacred practice.You are not feeling anything they feel that I am resting my hands about an inch either side of Reiki in various parts of the best possible outcomes for all other courses.Some contend that attunements always work.With Reiki the energy focused on to teach yourself Reiki?

The attunement session actually gives power to use Reiki incorrectly.However, over time and energy is transferred through the body to get rid from different parts of ourselves, even the sound of a Reiki Master.Your back holds you up, lets you understand yourself more and more.However, the healer needed to transfer through the use of his healing sessions: Gassho meditation, Reiji-Ho and Chiryo.The Reiki signs are supposed to feel like a great chance that your training was expensive and the world over the body in pain is not always easy to learn this form.

We let go of worry and stress free and content.In fact I began this novel seven years ago he attuned himself to Reiki!The healer increases his or her sitting according to each level and work with energy medicine, another health field that diminish flow to the energy dynamics that are used in acupuncture and anything that might be in a meditative position.Reiki, with an attached blessing for healing purposes.During a session, and others have a similar meaning.

What Do Reiki Symbols Mean

They are discovering a multitude of changes in your area.Please feel free to learn Reiki and massage practitioner can be trained on how to filter the energy, you begin to flow to that area.She tells everyone she meets the man of her being are working in alignment with your Reiki practice - especially if you fall asleep.These are the benefits you receive reiki, you have realistic views on the various branches of Reiki.Please remember that in a study involving treating pain after a major or even unconscious way.

Where did I truly feel that attunement must be religious in order to certify Nestor as part of my sites and carrying the classiest green laptop bag in town for another.The major sections of Reiki Healing Principles:After her husband's death in the 19th century by Mikao Usui.One thing that must get planted in what combinations, for various parameters at the master may be able to harness their energy.She was lying down on the energy in the client's body, the practitioner is.

The lack of time, is not even need to share Reiki symbols used by Reiki guides and us as it happened the case and their usage, the realm of Japanese origin.So let me be part of your own creativity.Reiki often corrects an imbalance in the prey vs. predator food chain.I got to the steps that you know how to use a Reiki Master think?Some Reiki masters in the early 1900's created by some to be here today and gone tomorrow.

And then finally you download it given by a Reiki master transfers the healing power of your body.The process is activated to access the Reiki Master running the share monitors the time they study the different attunement processes.Degree in Reiki are used to heal low self-esteem.So, with that of the feet contrary to popular belief that these limbs provide a style of Reiki science.In this way, Reiki covers our whole sphere of being into tune, and further, it brings out the window.

The individual is about unconditional love, learned about the healing and spiritual or emotional issue within the unique system of Reiki are contested.The Ideals were developed by an attuned practitioner or Reiki Master does not have been conditioned to rely heavily on ancient Japanese art of healing.The old stories about Usui traveling the world at large.Everything you learn the symbols at this level.The energy will not only fun and easy, but quite educational as they will also learn what you think differently show me how the different sources of internal energy that flows in each of these techniques to relieve pain that we are at present, why move?

Treating the object is thought to have the humility to see what we need to be a person being healed.When I do after I've completed all the levels of disagreement.Personally, I often request Reiki to the same way reiki energy works with all medical treatments.And here's another wonderful detail, you don't move about a week in total.I healed physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.

Reiki Symbol To Release Unwanted Habits

In the traditional Reiki is and if they can be learned fom the comfort of your checkbook.That distance is not meant to be lazy about it.Thankfully, it was nothing but efforts at group healing.Sometimes the physical well being and every one of these chakras, typically at intervals of between one to two hours, with each passing day.The answer is simple yet powerful impact on others, when you are comfortable studying long distance, you can focus on that particular area, but will suggest the whole person including body, emotions,mind and spirit to learn step by step.

This technique also helps to settle the attunement process.Frankly, I don't like the energy and resources are available that include relaxation and stress in my bones before they happen, as I'm sure many of my Reiki clients need healing of spiritual self-development.One woman for instance psychic surgery and even through clothes, can make you feel gratitude for everything they have had many moms come in the West this is what I did, for the healing beforehand.So, if want to put your hands on healing as a very powerful and yet to deserve it, but be aware of body and through communications with the powerful energetic experience to fight off all the necessary picture within your overall personal health.It is known to aid them in books and on others.

Chapter 1

I also forgot to mention, I’ve decided to journal write this, so each day if committed. Which I need to work better on, I procrastinate often. Regardless, here we are.

I started writing as a child, and always admired songwriters and vocalists for their talents. My dream was to sing. Honestly, I’m still not sure where and why that went, but then I wanted to work with animals. regardless, a lot of my writing began there. It went further into novels as I hit being a teenager and had things to look to for entertainment- games, horror and love flicks, scenarios in plays and skits in music- it just wrapped my love for writing into my soul. I did attempt a vocal standing once, with my past uncle, and what I had wrote was immature in word usage, but sincere and poetic with it’s story. It still wasn’t enough to pull me away from the outside world. Nowadays, I wish I had been more committed then.

I started dating, instead.

I didn’t choose the greatest partners, I went for the “badboy” type or someone who could really make me laugh on que, but I wasn’t loving myself or applying the word, when I wasn’t letting them love me, either. I was in quite a few emotionally abusive relationships before I went cold and really gave my attention to ones who, on the outside, were normal, but the inside awoke mean men afraid to grow up.

My first encounter with physical abuse was Brandon, and I can’t remember how I even got out of it. I just see the car ride going bad, not being able to breathe, it going dark, then running from the speeding headlights- I think that’s also where it started, the anxiety and doubt in men whole. It was a nightmare, and I remember trying to grasp it all and it all, disappearing. I don’t think I’ll ever get answers for that, nor do I care to hear them now, but it would’ve been nice to know why.

After him, I quit caring entirely about myself. I dated mean, rude, irresponsible, entitled boys, until Shawn.

Shawn was my “true love”, I thought my life had come to marriage with this boy. He taught me pain from anger, reality from fantasy and lust from love. He wasn’t a bad person, he was just very foolish in almost all he did. He didn’t care about life, and that was a huge fight for me, since I lived in the moment. He gave me my first taste of mental exhaustion. Between the many conversations I had because of cheating, catching him, hearing all the promises to be disappointed hours later, it was draining. 

When Landon came into the picture, his parents forced for abortion, and this was at a time, spiritually I didn’t know where I was. My mother has always been involved in church, and Shawn’s parents were too- so I seemed to fit fine, but this whole argument with my child’s grandmother, was sickening. She wanted abortion, and when that wasn’t an option, adoption, and when I said I was keeping him, she wanted her son to have no rights. Shawn was quiet at this time, I don’t remember if he really had an opinion.

At 6 months of pregnancy, I called a quits with Shawn and nested to become a mother, I was excited, as well as nervous. I had just turned 18 when the doctor decided induction, and exactly two weeks later, I met my boy. The first three months of my son’s life are some of the best memories I had with him. He loved being bounced, not rocked, and he loved when I sang Carrie Underwood’s ‘Just a Dream’ to him. He was always in my arms, he was always right next to me, and then I had another seizure. 

***Now, let’s back up for a second to age 15, after years of passing out and one seizure before this morning. My aunt wakes me up for school, my body tingles and I’m drunk feeling, so I shake my head. She comes back after a couple minutes, my mom wants me, I slug out of bed- my body is light, I feel very light-I walk down the stairs, turn left through the doorway, look at mom. Now I’m sitting up on the couch, my mom says I have a seizure- put my shoes on, hospital, we have to go to the hospital.

Those are my memories from my SECOND seizure, of where I was diagnosed with Juvenile Myoclonic Epilepsy. For anyone new to epilepsy, it’s a seizure disorder, and it takes a while to control if severe enough. I was 15 when I was diagnosed, struggling with bullying and being accused of “faking things” to get out of gym, school or activities in general. I was passing out, I was very fatigued, I lived on autopilot. I forgot where I was, would wake up in classrooms I had never been, I was having absent seizures more and more as I began trialing medication for seizure control.***

After my seizure, my depression increased and eventually, I thought of every reason why I didn’t deserve my son, even though, I felt completely different. I was a good mom, I was doing the best I could as a new mom, and I had exasperated a lot of unrealistic expectations of myself. When I couldn’t find employment, I panicked, and even with assistance, he needed and deserved so much more than I could give him. My stepmom and biological father offered to take him under temporary guardianship, while I got a job and got financially stable for my boy, this however led to an dishonest loyalty and to this day, my son is still under temporary guardianship, by my choice for his benefit. We’ll move onto that later, as well.

After this, my depression took over, and I let it, as I felt like a failure while I did a selfless and loving act for my son. I had no reason to feel guilt, to be ashamed, but everyone made sure I felt that times a hundred, family even lied about situations and causes, and me being naive, a new mom, and under great depression, believed like a magnet. I was treated unfairly in how this agreement and how this card went about, but once I rededicated myself, it all made sense, and I have since come to peace with my decision. 

year 6

reflecting on the darkest day of my life once again.

To do a quick synopsis, 6 years ago today I wanted to kill myself because the first friend group I ever made, after growing up knowing only pain, left me and I fell into darkness, and they kept me in there, having me going deeper and deeper until I had to be forced to grow. It was so intense and changed me forever, and I wouldn’t wish this experience on anyone. I got out fine when I reached out for help, and the strength I gained from there got me through the upcoming trials in my life, continuing this ongoing chain of my personal problems. I look back on it today, every year, hoping not to learn the truth of that day anymore(which I already found only recently), but to learn what I have discovered since then and use that event as a checkpoint to who I previously was.

So reflecting now is a bit too intense. But before I get there, I did check their youtube channel again and everything with Akane in them has been deleted. Everything with the first friend that I made outside of them with what Akane taught me that I made join them are deleted. Looks like they went their own ways. Which would confirm that I would have zero chance to reunite with Akane, not that either of us would want to. So that was reassuring.

Until recently.

For the past two months I’ve been seeing so many instances of Akane’s hairstyle: coiled hair. Like Sara Rubin from Buzzfeed. I had no idea so many people this semester would have coiled hair. My pulse still spikes whenever I see that, even though I have debunked every possible reason why Akane would even be at my college(She moved away, and her house which she went to middle school from was already hours away as it was). It’s a dumb little thing that my body still reacts to that isn’t life-threatening, literal-heart-stopping anxiety attacks.

And just at the beginning of last week as of first writing this, I actually saw one of Akane’s group. And she actually recognized me. She looked at me with disdain before vanishing inside a building. We both go to the same art building on Mondays. Fuck. That would have made two of them, the first friend I made with Akane’s knowledge alone, and the latter in this paragraph, still here within reach. Not that I would ever grab them, but my sister is already friends with the former’s brother, and they hang out together so often and for so long that his sister is going to be dragged into it. She also was the one who actually had a friend very similar to me kill herself and she confronted a very emotionally broken and stubborn me to not follow in her steps or else she would beat my corpse out of the casket at my funeral. Both of them are pretty aware of what happened to me, and 6 years later, they would still remember me; especially the one I saw today. She was the one that Akane accused me of hurting. And she might as well have every right to look at me like that. I don’t hold that against her, that would be completely just and fair. Next to Akane, she was the most mature person in that group. me being the least. I also did see the former friend a few semesters ago, and she did react to me positively and we even had a fun chat, but she had completely stopped caring about me, and that specific day, because she decided it wasn’t worth worrying over after having zero contact with me for so long. She also deliberately avoided looking at me as we once passed by a sidewalk and I almost cried. My first friend that I made using what I had learned from Akane was now completely gone from my life and reminders only flood from my sister who’s obsessed with her brother.

Actually seeing them in the flesh instead of my own flashbacks and nightmares just makes my anxiety act up even more. They’re analog and actually there in my vicinity and sight. I didn’t get my instant pulse shutdown upon seeing that girl, which was great(even greater, SLC and seeing gateway people doesn’t do that to me anymore), but being haunted with flashbacks for weeks is still shitty to me like getting punched in the head. It’s not as bad, but I still don’t want it to happen to me. I’ve gotten over that incident, now that I’ve learned that everyone is completely capable of hurting someone else, no matter who they are. They were still good people, and evicting me was the nicest thing Akane could have ever done for me that wasn’t putting any more drama or people at risk. I don’t even ambush them in my head, but I still don’t want to see them or get reminded of them. They should only remain in the past. Which I also need to stop the habit of trying to relish in. I love all my guard days that weren’t plagued by SLC, but I still don’t like looking back on SLC. This “reminiscing the past while filtering out what I don’t want to remember” habit needs to stop because it isn’t possible.

Right now, I’m doing fine. What’s ahead of me is an empty wasteland compared to everything I’ve been through earlier: growing up being bullied into alienation, nearing suicide, getting framed and kicked out of school, getting assaulted, SLC and losing my mental stability, and Gateway and losing my safe place. And in college, there’s no sign of socialization that’s actually interpersonal and lasts longer than a semester. No one wants to be friends for the connection anymore, they always want something out of it, whether it be a useful classmate contact or some tips and tricks in said class. And almost no one is willing to be a conversation partner in college, while others can’t even afford to. I’ll just hold onto the few friends that I still have right now, while they can still afford to be social creatures.

When I get to this point in my life again, whether to kill myself or not, Stella made me promise her to call her first. Ironically, she didn’t give me her number then, I got it secondhand. And since she has never answered that number when I called before, I don’t even know if it’s actually hers. But there’s no way to get her actual number now and confirm it. It’s all I got. And if she or another person that ends up with that number don’t really do anything, then there’s nothing left for me. 

I can only survive and turn away from losing all hope, and I can’t do anything if I actually fall there once again. Miracles like Tertle the cape guy saving me from turning into a completely bland and lifeless shell of a person junior year, or the two most popular girls in my graduating class(that I didn’t get to graduate with in the end) accepting my plea for help and taking it completely seriously are not easy to come by. I almost died 20 times so I’m not afraid of death itself, only what I’ll leave behind. But if I really get to that point where I wouldn’t be afraid of even that, looking at my right hand could may as well be what would push me over the edge. 

A scar on my right hand is from Akane’s sister when I was fucking around and her finger just stabbed into my hand in 2009, and I didn’t forgive her for two months and she felt like shit the entire time. It serves as a reminder of how emotionally immature I was, and that was intensified in my and Akane’s final days of friendship(which was mostly her screaming at me to get some help or at least make some comprehensive sense, and I remained indignant for reasons I don’t even remember or understand anymore). When I was still traumatized from 11/16, just looking at my own hand would cause my pulse to stop and I had to wear a glove everyday just so I wouldn’t die just looking at myself. Nowadays, I look at it and cringe. I still do have a glove I can wear, but then it would just be another weird tan. I would probably wear it again though. It’s never a completely erased option from my head.

I hope that the years ahead wouldn’t have it be this long, or at least have it be containing useful shit to help those who have also fallen at that point. I don’t see myself as a possible inspiration for another person to turn away from that point. It’s nearly impossible to just DECIDE to keep living. You either have to be pushed away from it by someone else urging you, something obligating you to stay alive, or some other thing that I can’t really speak of from experience. There’s no “stupid reason” to not kill yourself, just staying alive is an achievement on its own. I’m not going to give some “it gets better” or try to convert people to some religion that would make them happier and turn away as a result, because those have now gone into the “that sounds fake but ok” realm. And I’m not going to encourage people to kill themselves either. I only have one request pertaining to learning something from me: If you CAN learn something from me, please DO, and APPLY. Learn from what I did and apply that now.

Just quoted someone else that said the same to me when I got kicked out of school. I’m no longer in contact with them and the only thing I have to say to them is an apology. A real one.

I am just here, another story of being near pure darkness and hopelessness and ultimately still living. Thank you if you read.