Makin Moves

When You Refuse To Go Blind (An Essay)

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“But I don’t have the money.”

Who said money is even required?

If it’s for you, meaning that desire is sourced from the absolute truth of YOU, it’s not dependent on you having the money right now.

You’re never limited to your own bank account or bound by the laws in the physical.

You absolutely CAN birth that desire from the ethers regardless of your current circumstance.

You have access to ALL possibilities.

Beyond what you can even imagine.

But your devotion to the physical, to what can be seen and measured in this moment, kills the magic on contact and reduces your options to none.

You believe that what you see is all there is, and that’s where you go wrong.

So you don’t even make your true move.

The exact move you’re being told to do that will actually dissolve the exact thing you misperceive is real.

The move that will open the floodgates to the MORE your being is pulling you towards RIGHT NOW.

The more you claim you want but aren’t even willing to step into.

Because you listen to the mind.

Because you refuse to go blind.

Because you operate within the illusion of time.

“I don’t have enough.”

“I can’t see how.”

“It must not be for me right now.”

While your whole being is screaming GO.

But since you have no money and you have no proof, you’re like NAH, BRUH.

I’ll stay right here.

In the place I’ve always been.

And that’s why you don’t get the thing, my friend.

You’ve ignored yourself once again.

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A Little Switcheroo (An Essay)

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As of late, I’ve been floating further away from form.

And last night it became clear that the platform / vehicle through which I was intending to showcase my upcoming collection, was no longer a fit.

Any sense of restriction,

containment,

management,

anything based on time…

any reliance on another or a thing in any way…

feels too dense / too heavy / too cluttered for me.

I need things as light and seamless and Mandy as can be.

And…

I’ve created so much art and beauty this year.

So much went on behind the scenes.

So much that’s been waiting for the perfect home.

I can’t wait to bring you up to speed.

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The Players Are Interchangeable (An Essay)

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Even as I write about men,

it’s not about them.

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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