As I drove in the dark of night home from the airport, I had two and a half hours to listen, think, process, drink coffee, and do it all some more. At one point, around Red Wing, MN, I began to have a conversation with my unseen Universal support. I don’t know what they look like, but I imagine them to be ancestors, loved ones, angels, and guides from across the galaxies. I’m quite certain I’m never fully alone, but I sure felt like it on this particular night. I wondered aloud through tears, why it wasn’t ok to feel the way I was feeling about a heavy situation in my life. Why did I feel like such a loser for having these emotions? Why am I so weak? Am I destined to feel like this forever? And then I heard the Mystic’s words from the beach: “You’re probably not going to die”. Something clicked inside of me and said, “No! Not this time...” Somewhere between the ages of 19 and 22, I told at least one of my close friends that I just knew I was going to die at 23. It seemed just a fli