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I’m Tired of Being Tested. I’m Ready to Feel Blessed.

By The Artful Woman
I’m Tired of Being Tested. I’m Ready to Feel Blessed. Lately, I’ve been diving into teachings about energy, abundance, nervous system healing, and consciousness. I started listening to books like The Body Code , revisiting some of the work from David R. Hawkins and his Map of Consciousness, and exploring ideas around changing your emotional “state” to shift your life. At first, I think I approached it from a place of frustration. Because honestly? I’m tired. Tired of surviving. Tired of fear. Tired of feeling like life is one long series of lessons, tests, trauma, recovery, rebuilding, and “overcoming.” After surviving a stroke, years of emotional healing, toxic relationships, financial fear, and then a catastrophic accident that completely changed my life — including losing part of my limb and enduring multiple surgeries, recovery, pain, trauma, and the emotional aftermath of rebuilding my life all over again — I realized something: My nervous system learned survival so deeply tha...
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Miracle at the Punk Rock Show

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By The Artful Woman

 


Back in the early eighties, when I was just a young teenager, my world revolved around skating rinks and music. I was just starting to explore concerts, gravitating towards the new wave scene, but I had friends who were deep into punk rock. One night, they invited me to a show in Long Beach, featuring bands like Agent Orange, Suicidal Tendencies, and Social Distortion. I don’t remember exactly who was playing, but the concert was held in a packed hall or theater, and chaos erupted.

A full-blown riot broke out. People were throwing furniture, the doors were barricaded to keep the cops out, and helicopters swarmed above. I was just a skinny kid, completely out of place in the middle of the mayhem. Then, in the midst of the chaos, something incredible happened.

One of the band members—maybe a singer, maybe a guitarist—jumped off the stage, grabbed me, and carried me through the crowd. He pushed through the fighting, got me to the front, opened the doors, and shouted for me to run. As soon as the doors swung open, I was met with the sight of a SWAT team lined up, guns aimed. He yelled at them to let me go, told me to put my hands up, and I walked right past them, escaping the nightmare inside.

To this day, I owe that man my life. I don’t know his name, what band he was from, or why he chose me in that crowd—but he saved me. If he hadn’t pulled me out, I don’t know what would have happened. Looking back, it feels like a miracle.

Sometimes, miracles don’t come with bright lights and angelic music. Sometimes, they wear ripped jeans and scream into a microphone. That night, in the middle of what felt like a war zone, a punk rocker became my guardian angel.

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By The Artful Woman
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