PanOstic

Like the great Martin Luther King(jr), I have a dream. I dream of a time that men and women walk down alleys at night, unafraid of the shadows which lurk within. I dream of a day when race isn’t mentioned at the beginning of a story... of a day that race - a social construct at its core - ceases to exist, and the color varieties of our skin is celebrated as nothing more or less than beautiful & unique. I dream of a time when food, shelter, clothing, and medical care are viewed as basic human rights. I dream of a time when medical autonomy is valued from birth, and the decisions one makes for their own care are protected as rights. I dream that bodily autonomy is taught to all of our young people, as soon as they are old enough to speak. I dream of a day that femininity is celebrated, and “You have a lot of feminine traits,” is a sentence that needs no follow-up. I dream of a time that higher education is offered freely, because an educated people a heal...

Someone recently asked me about the journey of my life, and what my next steps are.  It took a bit of thinking - and a lot of condensing! - but I finally had an answer for him.  As I was writing, I realized it wasn’t just for him, but for myself, as well as anyone who feels drawn to read it. So, without any further ado, here is my answer: As so many of us are, I grew up in a very tumultuous home.  I won’t go into that too much, because it no longer defines me. It deserves mentioning, though, because it did get me where I am now :)  We were Mormon, and I was very in love with my church.  Let me rephrase: I was (am) very in love with my God - so much so that it wasn’t until Divinity intervened in the form of my now-ex husband that I realized just how suppressive the Mormon culture is.  So I left the church, called myself ‘nondenominational Christian’ for a while, married this guy who’d opened my eyes... and kept growing. I couldn’t explain it, bu...

Do you speak to me like you speak to GOD? Those words hit me like an AK-47. I’ll be honest, I don’t even know what the lyrics before or after were; I was so lost in what I was doing (dancing to the music , cleaning house, getting sippy cups) that when these words hit me with such intensity, I knew GOD was speaking directly to me.   At first my mind went to the people in my life who I’ve perceived to have done me wrong, but even as I did so I could feel the subtle Voice of Source Creator settle into my heart.  “No,” it whispered, “this is for you .”  Eyes widening, I considered the question in a knew way: do I speak to others the way I speak to GOD? Well... not always. The thought was humbling.  Here I am, a professor of Love and seeker of Truth, acknowledging that We Are all beautiful fractals of our Creator GOD... and speaking to my fellow Light Beings as though they were ‘mere mortals’, as it were.  What an injustice to them! ...what an inju...

I read a meme the other day that I couldn’t help but laugh at as I nodded agreement. Still chuckling, I read it to my husband: “Have you ever met someone who is just the human form of breadcrumbs in bed?” He didn’t get it.  “Breadcrumbs?” I pressed.  “You know, when you’re eating in bed and get breadcrumbs in the sheets?  How annoying that is?” “Oh.” Just “oh”? Alright, well, whatever , I thought.  I didn’t quite get how he didn’t ‘get it’, but I shrugged and moved on. This morning it hit me. I have absolutely no idea what inspired this train of thought - well, yes I do (Thank you, Source Creator!) - but today as I was listening to a podcast I realized... he didn’t get it, because he perceived things differently (there’s that word again...). Like squirrels , there is nothing about bed breadcrumbs that could be considered malicious. They just are what they are.  Furthermore, they are the result of something positive: the meal I just enjo...

That’s what I’ve lovingly dubbed my husband. If that doesn’t make sense, allow me to explain: Squirrels - you know those fuzzy little creatures with the bushy tails that frequent the trees in your backyard - are Nature’s little mess-makers.   They don’t mean anything by it.  There’s no malice, no ill-intent, nothing like that... they just discard what they’re holding once they’re done with it because, well, they’re squirrels. And what exactly would a squirrel do with it (whatever “it” is), anyway? Well my husband - who is the kindest, sweetest, smartest, hardest working, most amazing person I have ever been blessed to know - is a squirrel. When we first got together, as one often does in a new relationship, I found this little quirk of his endearing.  Time and life clouded that sentiment, though, and over the last several months I have found myself grumbling more and more at his “squirreling”.  What I realized today, however, is just where the fau...

My name is Journy (legally Amber Burton), and this letter is being written because some very serious concerns have made themselves apparent.  As you may have garnered from the first line of this letter, I do not live a “traditionally normal” life.  What I mean by this is that the paths I take in life are dictated very much by a personal moral code and intuition that I truly believe come from my Source Creator - the term “God” has a lot of preconceptions, but you could call it that - regardless of how society may view them.  These include (but certainly are not limited to) being true to myself rather than conforming to a societal standard of ‘normal’; helping people who need it whenever I feel called or am in a position to do so; being honest and true in all of doings; and being a good, patient, and loving mother to my children. It is for my children, and for all children in Utah, that this is being written. My daughter currently resides in Utah with her biol...

This song  is one that spoke to me profoundly at the end of my second marriage.  Despite knowing I needed to, it took months and months for me to even consider leaving.  Even after that, it took several months more to actually make the decision.  My heart was broken, and I didn’t want to.... but ultimately I knew it was for the best. Once I finally faced the truth, there was no turning back... but still I dragged my feet.  It was right about then that I heard this song again, and it struck me in a whole new way. I remember being in the car with him once when it came on.  I remember staring out the icy windshield, willing the tears that had sprung to my eyes not to fall; he would ask what they were for, and I wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet.  I remember being hurt and scared and angry... angry at God for not fixing my marriage; angry at myself for lacking whatever it was that ‘caused his attention to stray’; and angry at him, for forcing me into...

Thank you for the hard times. Sometimes that’s hard to say  Especially when cloudy skies Fill up my precious days But with the clouds come rainstorms  And with rain life can bloom If my garden can do it, then I know that I can, too

Concerning the "accept pedophilia" movement: first of all, ANYBODY saying "Legalize pedophilia" is a predator - Period. Point blank - and they deserve whatever GOD has in store for them (MATT 18:6 comes to mind). THAT BEING SAID.... that's REALLY not what the movement is about. I know that may be a difficult concept to swallow, but it's the truth.  What those behind the movement - yes, myself included - are REALLY saying, is NOT that it should be legalized. Quite the opposite is the goal, actually.  You see, being sexually attracted to minors IS a thing that DOES happen, and it *really is* beyond the control of those who suffer from it. "'Suffer from it'?? Really, Journy??? How could you say that, when it's the CHILDREN who suffer?" Well..... about that.... (And this is coming from someone who was molested as a child and raped as a teenager by a 36 year old man) Did you know that only about 20% of child abusers can actually...

You knew me when I didn’t  You took away the pain And then, when I was ready,  You gave it back again  You loved me when I couldn’t  You saw me through the night And when my will had faltered  You gave me strength to fight You saw me through my blindness When hate was all I saw You revealed my reflection You showed me Love was Law You knew me when I didn’t So wisely made me wait And then, once I stopped trying, You opened up The Gate Thank YOU for knowing me better than I know myself 💜

I am not a nice person. That is not to say I don’t choose to act kindly toward others; I prefer it, actually.  Being a “nice person”, however, has landed me into more sticky situations than maybe I should have found myself in. Now, in fairness, that could be because of my raise-induced interpretation of what a “nice person” is.  Allow me to paint the picture: A nice person smiles at others.... even when she doesn’t want to, even when they give her the creeps. A nice person offers to helps others freely.... even if they never help him, or disrespect the help he has given. A nice person definitely helps when asked... even if the only reason they ever approach her is for a favor. A nice person holds his tongue in anger.... even if that anger is righteous, well-deserved, and needs to be spoken. A nice person holds back her feelings to spare the feelings of others.... even when they walk all over her, betray her confidences, or otherwise make it clear...