The Players Are Interchangeable (An Essay)

Even as I write about men,

it’s not about them specifically.

How could it be?

They’re my very own creation.

Birthed from the core of me.

And the quality of my experience with them (or anything else in my life) is never about, or dependent upon, them or another.

The dynamic is impersonal.

The players are interchangeable.

Because it’s all just energy, baby.

Who and what’s being presented as I play my own game, is never about the specific person or thing.

They’re just the vessels through which I explore Mandyland.

The playground that has no rules.

And every single piece,

I’ve orchestrated for myself.

Brilliantly.

Effortlessly.

Whether I like what I see or not.

I’m curating all of it — no exceptions — to sharpen the blade of me.

Which is why even in the midst of this beauty,

I’m not attached to any of it.

I don’t ‘hope’ it continues.

I don’t believe this is as good as it gets.

Because I know that the energetic quality,

the purity of me and all that I create,

is increasing constantly.

Exponentially.

There’s always more for me.

And I know that all I ever have to do is be Mandy,

just Mandy,

for life to shape itself beautifully,

seamlessly,

around,

within,

and through me.

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Devoted To Truth; Not Another (An Essay)

I’m sure I’ll be what’s considered ‘single’ for the rest of my life.

I’m not made to be in what most would view as a ‘relationship’, no matter what I’m experiencing with another (or others).

How could I ‘commit’ to a fellow human (insane).

To anything of this world.

My devotion is to my own evolution.

And to the truth of the moment I’m in.

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It Needed To Be Broken (An Essay)

Kristen: “Will it break him if you don’t see him again?”

Me: “I don’t care. I don’t think of it. I just go scene to scene.”

I know how my detachment appears.

But attachment isn’t natural to the being.

It’s lodged in a story of some sort.

Meaning.

Matter.

Past.

Another.

It’s not that I don’t care about other people or what they go through.

It’s that I don’t care how their human is affected by me being Mandy.

I don’t take another into account when I make my moves.

Why would someone else have anything to do with what I know I must do?

Shall I factor in everyone I know and the world at large while I’m at it?

Give me a fucking break.

If something breaks, then good.

It clearly needed to be broken.

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He Moves With Me Seamlessly (An Essay)

He reminds me of a Leonard Cohen quote.

“You go your way. I’ll go your way, too.”

He moves with me seamlessly.

Effortlessly.

With nothing in-between.

A dance so quiet, so tender, so natural, so close.

So light.

So pure.

So empty.

So free.

Little is spoken.

Yet everything is said.

“Mine.”

“Yours.”

Here we are.

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The Refusal To Stay Where It's False (An Essay)

my NO with him only adds to the turn on

without that being my incentive to honour it

all i know in a moment is not this

what he does with that is not my business

not my ‘problem’

not a consideration at all

and yet

what he’s done with each zig and zag of me

has been heavenly

so dreamy

and

as i continue to ride each edge

making the entrance point more narrow

more pristine for the god in me

what awaits me on the other side of that perpetual sharpening

is the more that can’t be tasted

the more that can’t be felt

were i to choose to just deny myself

and abandon what is true

and it’s that whittling down to nothing

that refusal to stay where it’s false

that devotion to truth in each moment

(no matter what happens as a result)

that creates a vortex for the ALL

the ALL that can’t be named

the ALL beyond my wildest dreams

the ALL that’s sourced from NO

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Sex vs SEX (An Essay)

in the middle of the night

he and i had a lovely conversation about sex

and not surprisingly

based on how we met and how things are unfolding

we share a similar view on play

sex for the sake of sex

hits no true spot

but the experience of SEX

that has no beginning, no middle, no end

that may or may not include penetration

that may or may not include touch or a release

that is not marked separate from a ‘non-sex’ event

(because it’s alllll SEX, baby)

that is where the magic is

that is what arouses more than a particular position or body type

more than a pre-determined set of preferences

more than a ‘this worked on her last time so i’ll just do that again’ kinda vibe

because SEX is a dance in the NOW

so you can’t bring a (past) thing with you

nor can you aim for something else

you must make each move from exactly where you are

without leaving what’s alive

without leaving YOU

because true SEX is beyond the physical

the body is just the vessel through which you play

endlessly

truthfully

fluidly

to more

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Can You Meet Me Here? (An Essay)

even with a new lover

the zero point is what i’m after

it’s:

can you meet me here

in the place where i reside

when i offer no bridge

when everything false is denied

and…

(not) surprisingly,

he can

because he’s empty

present

open

true

he’s the most beautiful canvas

to create something new

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A Taste of the Ethereal (An Invitation)

More content and information isn’t what you need.

The thing itself isn’t even what you need.

You’re here to experience a perpetual freefall into the more you know you’re here for.

To dance in the depths that are far beyond words, paradigms, containers and all the things.

The ‘Zero Point of Money (And All Things)’ Masterclass happens today at 2pm EST and it’s $300 for the ride.

If you want a thing from it, you don’t belong in it.

You won’t get a thing from me.

But if you want to touch and taste the ethereal,

where the most beautiful things reside,

then come on this adventure.

DM to reserve your seat.

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Ride and Die (An Essay)

“What a fucking RIDE. Playing with you is unlike anything out there. Potent. Immediate. Not for the faint of heart.”

Last night’s treat in my inbox.

My spot always gets hit when I’m playing with a fellow rider.

Because fellow riders are the only ones who viscerally get what I’m throwin’ down.

I am of no use to those who want safety, time, solutions, support.

Those who are still looking to me or to others for more content to consume.

For something or someone else to attach to, to believe in, to become a superfan of.

My types are the ones who simply want to play with what’s alive right now,

regardless of what does or doesn’t happen.

When you’re ready for THAT thrill,

let’s ride.

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Aim Directly And You'll Miss (An Essay)

it’s not about going after the money or the person or any thing directly

there’s no real power in an outsourced move

because when you focus on the moveable

the changeable

the malleable (illusory) thing

it prevents you from doing the only thing

that has the power to move ALL things

(keeping the focus on YOU, with each and every move)

but when you make your move

because it’s true

regardless of the money or the other

you ‘get’ who and what is made for you

you always get what’s true

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If You Need Time, I'm Not The One (An Invitation)

If you need to be pushed / convinced / taught / supported / or ‘time’ to ride your own edge,

I’m not the bitch you play with.

But if you’re here for the absolute thrill and truth of it,

I’m that bitch you wanna fuck with.

‘The Zero Point of Money (And All Things)’ Masterclass happens Thursday (tomorrow) at 7pm-8:30ish EST and Sunday at 2pm-3:30ish EST.

You don’t need this (or any) Masterclass.

But if your being wants to really fucking play,

and touch the depths where stillness lies,

hit the point where nothing’s left,

you’re gonna wanna be part of this.

$300 for one or $500 for both.

Click here to pay and message for the Zoom link.

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You're Not Doing The Damn Thing (An Essay)

Announcing that you’re going to do it isn’t doing it.

Holding off until an unspecified ‘future’ point in time to do it isn’t doing it.

Inching closer isn’t doing it.

Doing it only under a pre-determined (safe) set of conditions (aka plopping it into a cute little container where you feel protected and the true edge can be minimized, softened or skipped altogether) isn’t doing it.

That’s avoidance.

It’s testing the waters because you’re still afraid to jump without something in place to cushion the fall which prevents the actual free fall that your being truly craves.

It’s the perfect delay tactic.

Making sure that the time is still not now to do the thing you know is true as you do the exact same thing you’ve been doing all along.

Staying safe and calling it by another name.

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Your Being Discerns Only This (An Essay)

your being can’t discern

between people

situations

words or actions

nor does it exist in ‘time’

your being can only distinguish, and respond to, the current vibe

in each person

in each situation

in each action

right now

and that energy can shift in an instant

which is why

in the land of energetics

nothing is personal

or permanent

because all things are equal

no matter how it appears

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The Perfect Configuration (An Essay)

you are

have always been

and always will be

in the perfect configuration

and

it is your misplaced desire

to be elsewhere

to have things

yourself

and others

be anything other than what they / you are

that perpetuates the illusion that something is wrong

that something needs fixing

which you would know is not the case

if you just stayed HOME

in the only place that’s true

while all that’s here for you

keeps landing at your feet

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Your Next Move Pops Through (An Essay)

You don’t need to figure out what’s next.

Life tells you.

Your being tells you.

So just go where you’re led like you’ve been doing all along.

The ‘next’ organic / inevitable direction will naturally bubble up through living in the current configuration.

As it always has.

As it always will.

Nothing to aim for.

Plan for.

Create in your mind.

What is custom-made for you just can’t help but pop through.

As you seamlessly move from one scene to the next.

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When Things Get Ugly (An Essay)

when you stay beyond your NO

the experience gets muddy

messy

tainted

ugly

showing you exactly what that NO was ‘saving’ you from in the first place

your being KNEW

but that knowing went ignored

until that NO you ignored got so damn loud

that nothing could make you stay

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Smudge On The Eyes (An Essay)

when there is smudge on the eyes

a distorted lens that discolours everything

one cannot see themselves

situations

or others

as they truly are

and…

in order to cope with that misperception of self

of the illusory other

of what is actually going on

(and the discomfort that arises from a truth one cannot own)

one projects what’s false

and deflects what’s true

effectively ‘protecting’ the illusion

while convinced that it’s truth

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Cleaning The Inner And The Outer (An Essay)

internal and external cleaning

is a constant refinement

an endless clearing

a seamless dance with matter

and there’s always a sigh of pleasure as i take in what i've done

and experience this ‘brand new’ space for the very first time

while feeling so much lighter and lovelier than when i visited last

more pure

more ME

stripped even further of debris

it’s a forever job

tending to one’s inner and outer home

or rather a living work of art

each stage

a masterpiece

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The Illusion Of A Purpose (An Essay)

In a call the other day, the fellow was talking about not having a purpose aka a made-up concept to attach himself to.

You know, to give himself / his life some direction, some meaning, some much needed motivation.

Something he can create an identity around.

Something to make him feel more ‘like a man’.

Because being exactly who he is and following his natural movements on the daily isn’t enough.

There needs to be an add-on.

Something quantifiable.

Something more / other than this.

I told him I don’t have a purpose.

He said it’s different for men.

I found that amusing.

Mostly because he just put us both in a separate category based solely on physicality (ignoring the energy aka the truth which would completely disprove his point if we really were talking about the masculine and feminine) to explain why I’m fine not having a purpose and he’s not.

It’s not because I’m a woman.

It’s because I’m not attached to bullshit.

Regardless of gender, regardless of conditioning based on gender, an illusion is still an illusion.

Purpose (or lack of), like self-worth (or lack of), like value (or lack of), like countless other things that aren’t actually real, is just a human-made concept to attach to and create a story around.

Something to hold on to, to point to as the reason you feel the way you do, or do the things you do you think you should do.

Something to avoid being the living truth.

Which comes with no labels.

No terms.

No concepts.

No thing.

Your ‘purpose’ is to BE yourself,

unobstructed,

if there had to be a thing.

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I'm Like Shrooms For Your System (An Essay)

working with me is like being bathed in sunshine, sparkles and rainbows

while riding a unicorn in a parade of flying kitties

and simultaneously getting an upper cut, throat punch and / or kick to the gut

and if you’re really ready to rock and roll (on the very cusp of IT)

you’re also getting thrown off the unicorn

being submerged in water

and getting kissed on the forehead

when you decide to pop back up

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