“Stop waiting to become the person who has the life you want.
Start showing up and taking action like them today.” Kendall Toole
By: Gabriela Yareliz
The world focuses on manifestation— this concept of wanting (and a lot of it has to do with external things, not so much character). But I am more in line with “renewal”. Kendall Toole’s quote above is right on the money. Toole said in a recent recording— if she could wave a magic wand, so to speak, and give you your dream body, life, relationship— could you sustain it?
Sustaining something requires an inner transformation. It requires character.
It’s not enough to want something. A different life requires action and through action comes change. It requires us to show up like the person we want to be and to live the life with the values that match.
Scripture tells us to each day renew our minds.
“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.”
Romans 12:2
It’s a cycle of resisting the conforming, transforming through renewing the mind, and discerning to walk in God’s will for your life.
This will have infinitely more power than a list of desires or a board that shows what you want. The question remains— do you want to become the person who can sustain?
And so much of life becomes a question of what evil, and sometimes what mediocre, lesser good are we willing to surrender for the greatest good of all— to see His face. To stand in His presence for eternity and to worship.
So much of life asks us this question— what are you willing to give up? So much of life is best lived with an open hand.
Hasn’t this always been our problem? Lucifer wanted more. Adam and Eve wanted what they wanted. Cain gave what was good but not the best or what was asked of him. They all put something above God (the concept of worship). And then, we see the counter— Jesus, a God who gives Himself up. Sacrifice.
The health and life of our soul is driven by this question of sacrifice. And anyone who will come face to face with God will have let go of something desired. It seems inevitable to the equation. It seems to be the test of love. How we show our gratitude for a sacrifice that cannot be matched or deserved.
What evil must be surrendered? And more complexly, what mediocre good is best left to fall away?
“Seek the LORD while he may be found; call upon him while he is near;” Isaiah 55:6
By: Gabriela Yareliz
The verse above has been stirring in my mind for some weeks now. I feel this internal urgency. I have noticed there are others who feel it, too.
It’s no surprise many feel something is happening. People explain it in different theories and ways. People who follow astrology (and generally people from LA) will insert their own opinions about portals being opened.
There is the whole CERN conversation. Do what you will with that. I hold no opinions on it or the astrology portal thing (as I don’t follow astrology at all; but I know enough people from LA to have heard about it repeatedly in past weeks).
But then, there are people of character I respect a lot who have dropped tidbits of current spiritual warfare (this, I do believe in). If you are paying attention, I think there has been a more visible increase in demonic activity and possession. (Even some videos that have gone viral on social media that we all could have done without).
I saw a video project from a Brazilian artist that left me with chills the other day— and not good ones. When I watched that clip, I knew exactly what I had seen. Things like witchcraft, sorcery— these things have increased in visibility 1000x. What was wild was every comment said something along the lines of, “this is beautiful.” Rather than beautiful, what I saw was incredibly dark. I saw pagan rituals, tarot symbols everywhere, Santeria, divination and things that are literally dark magic. Listen, I come from Caribbean culture where this is common. I also took an anthropology class that focused on voodoo and dark arts (we didn’t know that when we all signed up, but hell— it left us all speechless). That was a textbook I sold the day I took the exam.
And no, critiquing this is not religious intolerance. One does not need to tolerate demonic activity in any form, even if it comes packaged as “cultural”. People feel this magnetism toward what is dark, and I find that concerning.
I said earlier “if you are paying attention,” and it truly feels like we are not. (Including myself in that). Our phones have us in a chokehold, distracted, and these same phones spread footage, music and all kinds of things that exert influence over the mind.
There is a battle over the human mind and soul. While so many become tribal, the real split is between good and evil. And let me tell you something— the world has taken things up a notch when it comes to the discernment we are going to need to separate what is real, what is true and what is not destructive to our souls.
There is a lot I cannot articulate at the moment. But I can say that in past weeks, I have seen things, dark things that weigh on my soul. I see our blindness, and it stays heavy with me. And I don’t say this to stoke fear, but the opposite. As darkness increases, we better make sure we are running (and I mean sprinting like our lives depend on it) to the light. We must not entertain or be entertained by demonic activity.
If you haven’t prayed in a while, in earnestness, if you haven’t sat with the scriptures to seek truth, I encourage you to start now. So much can change so quickly, and no one should enter a battle unprepared. And if you ask me, the battle is already raging— we are not waiting for it to begin. If anything, it will escalate.
Jena Covello is a household name— she is the founder of Agent Nateur. She posts a lot of health content, specifically around hormones and endometriosis, as this started her journey with Agent Nateur (finding/creating a clean deodorant).
Her recent posts had me sad. The woman went through like one year pain-free, and then, perimenopause shows up, taking her on a wild ride. She is sharing publicly the stories below— but I just wanted to say that women who have chronic health matters they are dealing with— the ones who know more pain than normality— it’s tough. Just wanted to honor that space. That pain. It’s like a f***ery constantly trying to run to what feels like exploring hydrants to cover the recent geyser of insanity that has emerged. It’s exhausting. It sometimes makes you feel like you don’t know rest. It always feels like something is wrong. People don’t talk about that a lot.
I especially feel it for women who want to be mothers and want to experience what so many experience without second thought. My heart goes out to the women who are constantly in pain, constantly fixing and constantly adapting to the next situation, often doing, as Jena says, 500% more to try and solve the issue.
I felt these posts in my soul. Hoping more research can be dedicated to helping women not feel like the sludge of the earth. And for those seeking solutions— may you be blessed, find what works for you, and live the rest of your days not feeling broken, but feeling energized. Praying for restoration for you, that you may feel whole and find rest.
Summer Roberts controlling her rage blackouts is such a mood.
We meet again for the favorites! Time just flies.
I have added miles of walking to my days. It has come with a combined burst of energy and also deep exhaustion toward the end of the day. Building resistance. Work can be such a little trap that keeps us still for hours. Resist. The summer days are cooler and more inviting. So we are walking and walking.
I have tipped the scale on the Pvolve challenge. More than halfway through.
There are some stores in the neighborhood that are so trusting. I look in and wonder what it must be like to be so whatever. A Polish store that never has anyone at the cash register. It’s dead quiet and sort of dark in there. You can say a “Hello?” and no one responds. You are alone in the world with your thoughts in there. Another is a tailor. I look through the window, and see the Chinese woman crouched over her sewing machine with a small bulb hanging above, the front door behind her is open to let in air, and clothes covered in plastic hanging in the background like shiny phantoms. Quiet.
In the quiet moments of summer, I have tried several things:
I tried this amazing superfood drink this week— it had oat popping boba. It was amazing.
This drink at Naisnow.
I am currently reading Nicole Sachs’ book. So far, it’s a lot about believe the method, the method works and testimonials about the method, but not much about the method itself. Wondering if they left that for the last half? It feels a bit disorienting. Hoping it gets better.
I tried biohacker Gary Brecka’s Gary AI on The Ultimate Human. I expected more. It was cool, but felt simple. Not sure how to explain it. I think one is better off just listening to his podcast for health guidance and hacks.
I also tried Happy Aging’s Lean Muscle Formula Powder. It tastes great!
The Crown Affair air dry cream is nice, but I need to keep using it to finalize the verdict. I am notorious for being slow to wash my hair. That is a long hair problem.
Here were some of the other things that caught my attention this week:
“Do not stay stuck. Do not sit still out of fear.” Kenzie Burke
I feel like there are several lists we keep running in our heads. One is the list of stuff that must get done in a series of days/weeks within the season; then, there is stuff we want to organize, workouts to get to, donations to be taken to the bins, etc.
I was reviewing my list while I was on the train weirdly sitting in a cluster with a couple mid-argument. The man and the woman were both wearing dresses and had hoop earrings. The man was explaining in a whiny voice— “I didn’t know I was so unhappy then.” The woman adjusted the navy star-shaped sunglasses on her nose and let out a breath, “Well, you try explaining that to our eleven year old.”
“I am not picking him up,” the man said annoyed.
I looked up from my Notes app trying to add an element of purposeful awkwardness. Couldn’t they argue somewhere else? Without a stranger between them? I dug around for my Kindle as a captive audience member to whatever the hell was happening.
A juggler walked in. A person with a bike followed (why is the person with the bike not using it as their mode of transport??). A man with goggles sat down near us. The couple nudged each other and united in judgment against the goggle wearer, mocking the man with mumbles and giggles. I gave them side eye— they were not ones to judge. Thirty seconds ago they were at each other’s throats with veiled threats and whines. I re-focused on my list.
I’ll be home refolding clothes in a bit. Good luck to the eleven year old.
When I was a child, I loved a Sabbath lunch at my Uncle (tio) Freddy’s house. His house was a magical and mysterious one. Each room had a theme and color scheme. The blue room with the lamps with beaded fringe was my favorite. The red bathroom was my favorite one. There were many floors, twists and turns and a beautiful pond outside. I would investigate the baskets of potpourri and tiny pretty soaps. I touched every velvet cushion and bead in that house on the ground floor, mesmerized. He was just as sparkly as his decor. To me, his house fit his larger-than-life personality.
I could wander the house quietly and play, using my imagination. He was never annoyed by it. Even after I tinkered with his treadmill once. I put it to a speed I couldn’t handle and was flying off the pad, scuffed shoes and all, holding onto the bars for dear life. He still was unbothered. He found me amusing. I could always tell he adored my mom, and I benefitted from that adoration by extension.
When we would arrive for lunch, his house smelled like garlic bread. He and his wife often had lasagna or some sort of pasta and garlic bread. The bread was my favorite as a tiny carboloader.
My favorite thing about Tio Freddy’s house was the stories. His stories were so good. Often, I would eavesdrop, and the stories were so enthralling I would stop mid-play, taking a break and just sitting against the wall on the floor on the other side of the wall from the adults, quietly listening.
He was a great conversationalist and storyteller. He was lively, so funny and warm. He would invite guests that were just as interesting to join us for lunch.
Tio Freddy passed away. I did what most of us do. I let that sink in, distracted myself a bit, but mentally, I kept coming back to him. His house of mysteries, his unique style, his funny and unique laugh, his joy, his stories. I thought about how, on my mom’s side, I think we all met Jesus through him. Jesus found him first, and changed his life. God used his golden heart to reach out to the entire family.
He embodied adventure, joy, exuberance and kindness— always.
I’ll always carry the memories of Sabbath lunches at his house, and how that house and everything about him dripped with imagination, color and laughter. I know he made my imagination soar. No one told a story like him. I didn’t understand it all as a nosy eight year old, but I just knew what magic sounded like. Tio is so interesting, I thought. I just knew it.
One of his chapters has come to a close, but I know Jesus will bring him home. And in heaven, his house will be the one on the block that everyone will want to go to. He’ll tell interesting stories for eternity, and his lamps will hang glowing with beaded fringe. I just know it.
GABRIELA YARELIZ 