Private Space & Energy: The Great Energy Mystery

Some days I am more scared of myself than other days.

Not because I know something.

Actually, the problem is that I don’t know.

I don’t know why I know.
I don’t know how I know.
I just… know.

And honestly, this is extremely inconvenient.

If I could control it, maybe I could help people. I could say:

“Good morning! Your energy is slightly suspicious today. Please drink some water and reconsider your life choices.”

But unfortunately, my internal energy radar does not come with an instruction manual.

Yesterday, they entered my home private space again.

And somehow, I knew.

The worst part?

I let it happen.

Why?

Because after years of fighting what feels like a completely lost cause — criminal organizations, corruption, strange businesses, strange people, and an impressive amount of nonsense — eventually your soul says:

“Girl… I am tired. Let them have their little circus.”

But then I had a thought.

If people insist on entering my home and disturbing my personal space, perhaps they should at least take responsibility for the energy they activate.

Because everything has energy.

Your home has energy.
Your coffee has energy.
Your neighbors have energy.
Your grandmother’s sofa probably has enough energy to run the house.

And apparently, so do criminals.

So imagine this:

Every time someone enters my space without permission, my personal energy goes:

“Oh really?”

And then it follows them around like an invisible disappointed grandmother.

Not to hurt them.

Just to remind them:

“Hello. Remember that thing you did entering my house and robbing me? No? Excellent. I do.”

Because genuine energy has a very strange memory.

You can ignore it.

You can run from it.

You can even pretend you never touched the house knob trap!

But eventually your own energy comes back and asks:

“So… are we going to talk about what you did to that genuine US RN?”

And this is where I believe life becomes very simple.

You cannot worship EVIL and expect peace to send you flowers.

You cannot constantly steal other people’s space, peace, trust, work, or energy and then wonder why your own life feels like a badly organized dirty energies meeting.

Everything you touch leaves something behind.

Every place you enter.

Every person you connect with.

Every environment you live in.

Every piece of energy you borrow, steal, exchange, absorb, or accidentally connect while looking for your SECOND pairs of keys.

The question is:

Do you know what energy you are connected to?

Because I do.

I know exactly what I need.

HOME.

Home country is my energy.

Not necessarily a building.

Not necessarily an address.

HOME is the feeling where my nervous system finally says:

“Ahhh. Okay. We can stop being dramatic now.”

When I arrived in Spain, I could sit in a café, drink a caffe con leche, look at people, sleep, and somehow everything felt like it belonged to the same circle.

Good souls.

Good vibes.

Good energy.

Coffee.

Sun.

Life.

People simply existing without making everything feel like an episode of an international conspiracy documentary.

It felt like HOME.

Spain healed something in me.

My soul recognized the place before my brain had finished filling out the paperwork.

And then there were the exceptions.

The spies.

Obviously.

Because every beautiful story needs a few suspicious characters walking around in the background pretending they are simply “going to the supermarket.”

But no.

Not my energy.

Never my energy.

My energy has standards.

My energy has a guest list.

And the guest list says:

HOME ENERGY: YES.

PEACEFUL PEOPLE: YES.

GOOD COFFEE: ABSOLUTELY.

PEOPLE WHO RESPECT PERSONAL SPACE – GREAT

CHAOS and EVIL: PLEASE WAIT OUTSIDE.

ENERGY SPIES: WRONG ADDRESS.

Because maybe the real goal in life is not to control everything around us.

Maybe it is to understand ourselves well enough to know:

“This is mine.”

“This is not mine.”

“This feels like home.”

“This does not.”

“This connection gives me peace.”

“This one makes my soul want to uninstall the entire operating system.”

And perhaps healing begins there.

Find your energy home.

Protect your peace.

Be careful what you connect yourself to.

Do not connect to the energy that was never yours.

Do not steal energy that belongs to someone else.

And for the love of coffee, stop entering people’s homes without permission.

Because you never know what kind of grandmother-energy is waiting for you on the other side.

My home is my energy.

Your home is your energy.

And my home?

Well…

MY HOME IS NOT YOUR HOME.

Please return to your own energy.

Thank you.

Spain already healed me.

The coffee is working.

The soul is recovering.

And the energy spies have been formally informed that they are not on the guest list.

🕊️ It’s All About the Vibes – Me, Moshe, and a Cup of Chai (Seven Years Later)

People always ask me the same question:
“How do you do what you do?”
And every time, I give them the same answer:
I honestly have no idea.
I just vibe. ✨

Today’s story is about Moshe — and what coincidences, spiritual connections, and freaky timing are really all about.


☕ The First Encounter – Before the World Changed

Seven years ago, long before COVID and before I even knew what gluten-free meant, I randomly walked into a tiny, worn-out coffee shop. Far from home. No idea why I went there. Zero expectations.

And then, Moshe walked in.
We started chatting like long-lost friends reunited by fate.

We talked about home, family, Israel. 🕍
We talked about spirituality, religion, and—yes—spies. 🕵️‍♂️

At the time, I was working in a place heavily infiltrated by organized crime. Not even exaggerating. It was like a real-life spy movie—minus the cool gadgets. Lots of people with secrets. And Moshe? He fit right in.

To this day, I still don’t know if our meeting was a pure coincidence, or if Moshe had actually targeted me. 🧐
I believe it was the second one.


🧠 Forgotten… Until Today

I eventually forgot about Moshe and his strange energy. I forgot how he wanted to shake my hand immediately after my first sip of chai.
I left. Life .

Until today. 🌞

I was just walking down the street, looking for a natural juice spot (gut health is real, okay), and I stepped into this random, quiet place. I glanced up…

👀 And there he was.

Moshe.
His picture — plastered on the wall. Smiling. Big Jewish nose. Just beaming at me across the room like,
“Told you I’d be back.”

I almost dropped my green spirulina smoothie.
This wasn’t even the same neighborhood. Not even close.
But there he was — again. Like a glitch in the matrix.


✍️ The Weirdness of It All

I ran to find a place to sit and write this. Because what the actual universe is going on?

How can two people cross paths in random, distant places with zero planning and zero awareness?
I didn’t know Moshe had ever been here. Heck, I barely remembered him until today.

But the moment I saw his face, the memories rushed back.
And I smiled. 😊

Back then, Moshe was Israel to me. His stories. His mystery. His vibe.
Now, he’s become a recurring memory in this weird life of signs and coincidences.


✡️ Who Is Moshe?

Seriously, Moshe —
What do you do for a living?
Because you keep popping up in places like some spiritual Where’s Waldo.

Let’s break this down:

🕎 The Hebrew name “Moshe” (מֹשֶׁה) comes from the verb “mashah” — to draw out or pull out. In Exodus, Moses was pulled from the Nile by Pharaoh’s daughter. He later pulled his people out of slavery.

So I ask you now, Moshe:
Will you pull me out from Hell?
Out of this mess, out of this chaos, out of the spiritual confusion I live in?

Because somehow, through strange stores and forgotten memories,
our paths keep crossing.


🌌 Final Thoughts

Some people walk into your life, sip your chai, and disappear.
Others haunt your smoothies.
And some—like Moshe—just keep showing up, reminding you that maybe… just maybe… nothing is random.