I am well aware that it is often hard to understand my way of thinking—let alone my writing! :P Even my daughter often gets annoyed when asking me questions because she receives answers rooted in a different context, but that’s just my nature. Every coin has two sides, and everyone has a different point of reference—and that’s a good thing!
What does gingerbread have to do with a windmill? Well, it relates to the title of today’s blog post.
When we use the phrase "being grounded" in a sentence, we usually think of a form of imprisonment... However, I would like to point out that it can also be seen as the privilege of the soul consciously inhabiting the body—and that is the view I’m sticking with!
When life starts to get a bit uncomfortable, our minds almost always instinctively flee from responsibility and mounting problems... escaping to where things feel pleasant, simply because it’s the easiest path. But what would happen if, for once, we decided to make the harder choice—and, without putting things off for later or waiting for a better mood, simply faced our troubles head-on?
Miracles would happen.
Miracles don't come to everyone. They are tiny thoughts—invisible to the naked eye—that wrap around our bodies precisely when we are grounded within them. They arrive at the Universe's command to support and mobilize us—yes, to mobilize rather than neutralize—because anyone who takes the risk of making a difficult decision and commits to hard work will certainly be rewarded for those intentions.
However, it is not always easy to ground oneself and hear the Miracles. There are so many distracting sounds, situations, and people all around...
The foundation is faith in the unseen—in the Universe's plan, of which we are a part; indeed, we are part of that plan from the very moment of our birth.
 As small children, do we ask ourselves questions like "Why me?" No, we don't—but why is that? I believe that any child living in a safe zone fueled by peace—and, ideally, love—has absolutely no desire to think. Such a child simply wants to remain in that state! Thus, a safe space is another prerequisite for grounding. We also need oxygen—or rather, the act of breathing—ideally performed in a comfortable, upright position with arms spread wide to open the heart. This exchange of breath should take place at "our own" pace and as deeply as possible, in order to oxygenate and open every cell of our body—our home. Fourthly, while breathing in this way, our thoughts must be focused on an intention, and that intention must be pure and noble.
Everyone has different preferences regarding a "safe space"; for one person, it might be a cardboard box under a bridge, while for another, it is the kitchen and the aroma of soup a spouse cooked an hour ago. Yet the requirement is simple: we don't need to feel blissful or luxurious—we need to feel safe in our mind, to be able to ground our spirit in our body. I will just mention that for the more stubborn among us, a bit of discomfort often fosters growth better than comfort does; however, since each of us knows our own needs perfectly, I won't speculate any further.
And so, I have revealed the secrets of grounding oneself and preparing the body for miracles. It is a process that demands time and effort, but believe me—it is worth it!
Surely no one will call me a "hotel philosopher" if I choose to call this process the "Heart Sutra"... for only by using the heart can we find the balance between what comes easily and true effort.
Once we can feel this—and everyone is capable of it—we no longer want to run away from problems; instead, we want to experience them consciously, fully grounded within our own bodies.
I have grown fond of my little problems and the process of solving them. When I am calm and hold faith, hope, and love in my heart, I know for certain that I will resolve them. So, I breathe calmly and deeply; I am present in my body. I strive to activate all my meridians and chakras, for through them, I discover insights that were within me even before I descended to Earth.
Challenge accepted—and the greatest challenge of all is simply our own weaknesses.

I’m back at work.
Everyone surely remembers that feeling of slight nervousness before heading back to elementary school after the holidays... I felt something similar on my way to O'Hare on Sunday. It’s not the first time, nor will it be the last—I’m only human, after all. Every time I come home after that first day back, I laugh at myself and ask out loud: "What were you so stressed about?"
The first day was intense—both physically and emotionally. It’s hard to give yourself to more than one person. It’s even harder to anticipate exactly what these men need on any given day, but the Universe has blessed me with a talent for reading people; even if I don't always like their thoughts, I’m grateful for the gift. It’s the kind of skill possessed by people who have too much empathy and can, somehow, feel another person's emotions.
At the agency, dispatch usually schedules clients starting with the least demanding ones and moving toward those who drain every last drop of energy out of you. I stopped wondering who goes first or why a long time ago, because I believe in divine balance and treat everyone the same way. Of course, everyone always wants to be first—as if they’ve never heard the saying that "the last shall be first" :P.
I kicked off my return to the scene with a "Big" friend. I love it when he’s aroused to the point of bursting and calls me his "little slut." He’s always figuring out new ways to restrain me; this time, he used stockings and covered my face with a pillow. Sometimes it would be better to be an opossum than a panther, but that’s just my nature. Besides... he loves it when I put up a fight. You can't fool him—he's far too savvy about the showbiz world—so I stopped counting after the third orgasm and took short breaks to catch my breath between rounds of riding him. I can't picture us having a romantic, tender romance, but the wild sex is top-notch, and we both get a kick out of turning each other on. When he climaxed, he let out a soft moan—yeah, it felt good for him! After sex, he always greets me with a "Hi," and we chat for a bit about serious matters.
This time, he told me a funny story from his elementary school days—though I won’t share it here, out of respect for his privacy. It was funny enough, however, to make me ask where he was from. His refined elegance never gave away the fact that he had close ties to a small town in Indiana. Since we had previously talked about my cats—and he’d remarked that I ought to live on a farm (a sentiment I 100% agree with)—I started asking him about small towns, housing prices, and the local lifestyle... And just like that, out of uninhibited sex, a new dream of mine was born—one that felt quite attainable. I keep nurturing the idea in my thoughts, adding a detail here and there, waiting for the universe to give the green light!

I really wanted to meet one of the most handsome men I’ve ever known on that first day. I’d been thinking about him on Friday but didn’t message him to say I’d be at work; I felt too awkward doing so, having already cancelled two appointments in a row.
I couldn't believe it when he messaged me!
I’ll call him Shiva, since he’s Indian. Few men are as naturally stunning from head to toe as he is. He possesses a strong feminine side, yet—despite a personality that matches his physical beauty—he enjoys playing things "rough."
Physical attributes in men have never been—and never will be—what draws me to them. What I find sexiest is a man's mind and his scent. It’s wonderful when everything comes together to create an extraordinary whole, yet I know that—even though the periodic table is vast and offers endless possibilities—there is only one specific element meant just for me.
Every encounter with Shiva was unique, at least for me. There was no need to force emotions or play a role; time always flew by, and for days afterward, I would find myself reminiscing about the sweet moments we shared. I really wanted to see him on my first day back at work so I could gauge the emotions I’d feel after my long leave. I wanted to compare them to what I’d experienced the week before—going through something with "The Asshole" that I can't even begin to describe.
I never went looking for love; you shouldn't force things like that. It just happens.
...that holds true only when we are able to let go of our egos—usually when we have nothing left to lose, so we aren't expecting anything. The Universe has a funny sense of humor like that! It denies the incorrigible a taste of heaven—sometimes for a lifetime—while suddenly stripping others of love as a test... I’m no exception to the rule. I’m a normal woman; I have those feminine dreams of an incredible *Pretty Woman*-style romance, because every woman wants the assurance that the man standing behind her—loving her exactly as she is, without wanting to constantly change her—truly has her back. Naturally, I’ve imagined every male friend of mine in the role of my partner. Any woman in my shoes would do the same—if only to analyze the situation and draw conclusions that prove very useful in my line of work. Up until now, Shiva had been my number one, thanks to his perfect balance of energies, his lack of a wife, and the sheer beauty of his soul. I love having sex with him, and it has always been about more than just the physical act.
This time was no different, yet even though I think I made him happier than usual, I didn't feel any magic. He was just another friend to make happy—and that was it.
 My beautiful aunt—a woman of class who loves to show off jackets by famous designers—is someone I hope will eventually realize what truly matters in life; during a phone call, she told me I was making a mistake by turning down a proposal from a male friend who was smitten with me. She said that at my age, she too had thought she would conquer the world on her own, but now, at sixty, she regrets being single, claiming it is hard for a woman to be alone. I asked her if it wouldn't be just as hard to share a bed and a life with someone you might love, but only as a friend. My aunt laughed and asked if I truly believed that real love exists.
I replied that I do believe in real love and even know what it feels like. She laughed even louder then and asked where my Prince Charming was; 
Without a shadow of a doubt, I told her I wasn't ready for him yet, but that he was already waiting for me—and that marked the beginning of the end of our chat.

Bella—my third cat, who has only three legs—has advanced to the next round of the "Cat of the Month" contest, thanks entirely to those of you who vote every day. I tried to be clever and buy more than one vote a day, but I can't, so a huge thank you to everyone who votes faithfully :)
If my beloved girl wins, the rescue organization we represent will also win a prize, and together we’ll be able to feed many animals.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart :)

Bella is a bit like an avatar of mine; I adopted her at the end of July, and every day she teaches me that true power lies in the mind—however you choose to interpret that :)
A short while later, I decided to rescue another kitten to play with her, since my older cats are on a completely different wavelength :P
And just like that, I became the owner of four cats. Each one is different and truly special; it doesn't surprise me at all that animals are usually the heroes in fairy tales, because their personalities are so incredibly similar to ours—even though hardly anyone would admit to seeing their own reflection in a storybook creature...

I don't wear a watch at home, so I lose track of time, but it's starting to get dark, and I can see exactly four pairs of eyes looking up at me affectionately!!!!
It’s time for our dinner and a return to reality—I think I got a little carried away there......

With peace and love.