I am crashing 

I’m stuck in a pattern. Has this ever happened to you? You realize the same thing happens once and again. What am I suppose to learn universe? Please tell me and I’ll read up. I’m lost. I must confess I’m lazy. I don’t believe in doing anything for money. I refuse to sell my soul. I thought energy was the most important currency; it is. But money’s power cripples in and leaves me speechless. 

I’m falling down without a sign of a parachute. It’s not that bad. I enjoy the wind and the words that pop into my head while I fall. There are things that keep me from crashing into the ground. 

I am crashing and falling down but I’m wishing and hoping to create the tools to make a hole in the ground that will take me to Wonderland through the rabbit hole. I don’t want to crawl up the building that leads to the boring office, I wanna find my way to Wonderland. Please show me the way universe; please shed the yellow light. I need it. 

I am crashing down but maybe it’s just what’s suppose to happen; at least that’s what I need to believe. Go on gravity, bring it. I won’t fight you, I’ll come crashing and it’ll be epic.

The little boy

He wakes up and has to take care of business. There are diapers to change, issues to solve and fights to be had to survive this life that was given to this little boy.

“Hey! Come here.” He hears a bully scream. “What?” He bravely responds. He starts to negotiate a beating. He loses the negotiation and the bully and the boy get into a huge fight. 

His mom arrives at the school overwhelmed by this problem and by the other 4 kids she has to take care of. The little boy feels no shame, he had a reason to do it. He gets kicked out of that institution and once again had to go searching for a new school. 

The little boy is screaming and no one can hear him. Help me! Help me! He screams. His mom can’t hear him over other babies crying. Help!!! I need somebody! Help!!! He wasn’t heard. 

The boy becomes a man and has made many dysfunctional friends along the way. He tries many drugs and becomes friends with alcohol. But he does still admire his dad and wants to make him proud. He starts to work and is an average joe. 

The man wakes up one day and cannot breathe. Help!!! He yells again. Help!!! No one can hear him, he’s alone. He searches for help and finds Yoda. This yoda is modern, he comes in the form of an old wise man with white hair. He decides to help the little boy. The man was relieved. 

The process begins and the little boy arises. So much to fix, so much to undo. Can it be done?

Changes are made drastically; some good, some extreme. The message is sent but is taken to the extreme. Something comes of it; more good than bad. The man can breathe again and that’s good enough for him. 

Many stories unfold simultaneously and many people are yelling help! And we can’t hear them and they can’t hear us. Let’s try to get it right the first time. Let’s try to help each other out and be connected enough to listen! 

There is no longer an excuse. Let’s save the little boys and girls that have done nothing wrong. Let’s give them love and attention. Let’s save them before it’s too late. 

And if it’s too late, let’s be compassionate and try to understand that sometimes we’re all just doing the best we can and that should be enough for now. 

The little boy is in the process of being saved. It’s a long process but an effective one. It’s slow but steady. Let’s embrace our processes and remember that we’re all a work in progress. 

Broken dreams 

It decided to be born by accident. It wasn’t planned. It started with a desire and died as an idea. Once upon another time the voice lived. It still lives in a dream and doesn’t know how to become real. Its creator is struggling with the living. And so it patiently waits to be brought forth. 
The closest it got to becoming was in a small town full of broken souls. Everyone was lost enough so that the dream hostess did not care enough about the judgment and just sang.
Life got in the way, as it usually did, and the almost dream got lost once more. It’s been silent for yet another year. In the shelf it remains. 
It’s a broken dream, it’s many broken dreams. Where do they go? The desire to make them happen isn’t always enough and they become passive. They remain in a world created by wandering souls. 
It’s a day when the dream remains lost but not forgotten. It will be waiting to come forth until the desire dies or burns brighter. I wait for the day where the voice can scream and be heard. I’ve been silent all these years and silence is an interesting teacher. I’m trying to learn and hold the desire in my heart. 
And to those dreamers that feel like giving up, don’t. Even if you want to and think you should, don’t. I have nothing else to say except: don’t. 

Meant to be

It’s a struggle until you unlearn what was taught to you by the passing voices in the halls of the school or the college you never went to. By the authority figures that think they’re doing you good by making you fit into the box. Boxes aren’t for everyone.
The leaves fall year after year and our expectations are left hanging on the wall as an art project because no one told you it’s never going to be the way you thought it would be.

 
We create beliefs and hope that most of them are positive instead of negative. You know what you don’t want, and so you venture out thinking that you’ll find what is perfect. But more than finding perfection you find life. You’re left between the cracks and you think that’s a bad thing but then you realize that that’s what makes you; that’s what makes art.

 
Those who can see beyond what is happening and have the understanding of a wallflower are the ones that are screaming on the inside. They’re the ones with opinions and all they want is to be heard.
Once in a blue moon you find one of the others and smile knowing you’re not alone. Sometimes one of the others turns away because the light is too bright for the darkness.

 
And then one day you’re woken up to a beautiful mess and all you know for sure is that it’s yours. The pieces, the colors, the memories, the moments aren’t there to be judged but observed and acknowledged. The books read will forever be stored in your hard drive. The opportunities missed will forever live in a parallel world.
The events waiting to happen and the stories untold are waiting for you to step in and bring them to life.
The love is felt by a beating heart and the pain has evaporated the tears but not without leaving a tiny scar on the left side of your brain.
It’s overwhelming and it’s all a part of it. It’s completely undone and touched poetically by the talkative sky. It’s here and it’s yours and it doesn’t have an ending; very much like this story.
It goes on and on until it’s easy to transition into what is meant to be.

Pain

My choices have made no sense. I look back and don’t understand a thing. It all made sense until I graduated high school. I was the perfect little girl. I didn’t question anything. I had no issues with any teachers or any authority figure. Some people around me did have some issues with me. Just my existence seemed to bother them. I had a cousin whose sole purpose was to make my life miserable. There was this other girl Regina, she wanted me to have no friends. So, even without me being aware of it…I was an outcast. It was all subconscious. I was different but nobody informed me. More than that, I was thrown into the most logical, structured, controlled environment you could think of. I was innocent, I was pure. I didn’t know much at the time. I graduated with good grades and then it all began. My subconscious mind started to act out. I got into a very prestigious University, as it was to be expected. I got in, the extended family was happy. Then, everything the professors were saying made no sense. They were telling us how to think. They were telling us nothing mattered more than money. I snapped.

I had always liked music but I had been shy. I didn’t want to be like everybody else. Odd since that had been what I had done for 18 years. How could I know anything else? Maybe it was my mom. My mom was typical but not quite. She also had this spark in her that told her there was more. She saw me before I saw me. She knew I was an artist. I didn’t even know the definition of such person. It’s OK to be odd? How could that be? All that had mattered was doing what I was told.

I said goodbye to the prestigious University that would have gotten me any job I’d like and decided to move to L.A and study music. There was one little problem I did not quite contemplate. I didn’t know how to commit to being a rebel. Yes, it was there…but so was the logical side that I had worked on for so long. I embarked on my journey as an artist and didn’t make it. That’s OK. Everyone needs a happy ending; I’ve learned that they are not what they seem. Life isn’t what it seems. And that’s fine.

So I’m always in between. The only little thing was that I never committed to the logical side or the artistic side. I’m both. I’m always in between. Because of this, I suffer. I don’t feel like I fit in here not there. This all started when I was 19. I realized I was half and half. It has caused much pain but hey…you can’t be something you’re not.

I love prestige and success. I love raw and real. I love being free but I think money is great. I like things to be easy but the struggle also inspires me to write. I have a logical boyfriend and he pushes me more towards the logical side and I think deep down inside I’m more an artist. Why? They’re cooler, they’re rarer. They are admired, they leave a mark.

And so, the last three years and a half was the longest I was able to commit to being outside the system and some sort of artist. I wrote a book, I had gigs around town for a year and I started two blogs. I guess that’s something. And then, suddenly, I ran out of money. It had happened before but and this is a big but; now I’m in love. As most know, love changes everything. Love doesn’t allow you to get away with a lot of crap you can get away with when you’re single. You can eat soup everyday and it doesn’t matter if you’re single. But, as I’ve mentioned before, he’s the logical type and he’s somebody. I don’t know what that means. That’s a lie; I do know what that means but I’m a bit surprised I ended up with someone so different than what I’ve become. I haven’t just ended up with him, I’m madly and deeply in love with him. Who am I then? I’m willing to move to a high paced city and get a more corporate job so that I can “make it”. Am I being a hypocrite or is that who I am? It doesn’t matter. I guess sometimes some things shouldn’t be associated with our identity.

Our plan is to work and save and travel. Yes, that’s right. I said our plan. Never had my plan included someone else and now it does. I’m grateful for this love. I’m simply going through this transition. I feel blindfolded. I feel neutral. I feel this is what has to happen. It has made me cry a couple of times. It has caused pain. But that’s fine. Who would I be without pain? My life never seems to be calm, it never seems to be figured out and I should embrace that. It has been anything but boring.

So yes; this is a bit painful. And you know what? That’s fine. Pain isn’t about avoidance. Pain demands to be felt so there you go pain. I feel you, I embrace you, I don’t resist you. We can be friends and write beautiful things together. You’re here and you are not ignored.

That’s the thing about pain; it demands to be felt. Yes, I feel pain. But I’m smart and pretty and I can keep calm and carry on.

The point of it all

I’m reading a book about energy. How to keep it up and how to control it. I wish they would have taught this in school. I want to learn. Or better yet, unlearn.

Kids know it all. We know it all. We’re taught by those that do not know. They are trying to teach us how to be but nobody ever taught them. Some of them forgot; others never knew better. Maybe their parents knew. Maybe someday they’ll know.

Energy transforms our lives. Energy can save us from ourselves. When did we forget that the point of it all was to be happy? Yes, cars must be driven; food must be eaten; airplanes demand to be boarded. Places demand to be seen and money to be spent. But they should never become more important than our joy. When did we decide to pay that very high price? The price of peace. The price of joy. The price of life.

I’m not saying I’ve got this down. But at least I’m saying I want to. So many glorify the matrix we’ve created, we forget the point. Yes, the physical world can be touched but it’s only one dimension of life. I still don’t know any better. I catch myself craving more and more constantly. It’s almost as though it’s the ultimate test. A test I must pass if I truly want to be happy.

Children demand nothing, not at first. They simply are. They smile, they laugh, and only cry when they are actually in need. Remind yourself of that child. Remind yourself of your freedom. Improve your energy. No decisions can be made when you cannot see clearly. Unlearn the concepts that hold you back from being happy. Life might never be perfect but it can be perfectly enjoyed.

I want it all without falling into the trap of making it my only priority. I want to know better and be unapologetically joyful. Is that so much to ask? Happiness changes as much as we do, but if it’s connected to our energy, it can be stable. When we do not link our joy to things, we can maintain it for as long as we want.

It’s a complex concept to grasp but worth the try. If it makes you happy…it’s worth the shot. Results coming soon…

You, him, her

I want to be you. I like your hair and the way you move through the room. I want to be a mermaid. They swim around unworried about life. They’re always pretty and can go as deep as they please. I want to be you. You have beautiful, long blonde hair and everybody wants to touch it. I want your voice. You sing like an angel and can create melodies that make special souls stop and listen.

I want to be him. He always knows what he wants to do with his life and has more than enough extra cash in his pocket. I can’t seem to find those 25 bucks I keep losing somehow. I love the way he falls in love, uninterrupted. I like how his eyes stare when it’s inevitable to do so.

I want to be her. She’s one of those girls that always knew how to be fabulous and unapologetic. She’s poised and possesses a youthful wisdom that is as rare as a white butterfly flying through the sky and saying hello at random but perfect times. She keeps her skin sun kissed and soft. She smiles because she’s happy and I become her. She is inspiration.

I’m you, I’m him, I’m her. And most importantly I’m me. I don’t know when we got lost along the way and forgot that we get to be anybody. They cage us telling us that we’re only one person; that we can only do one thing. Nothing could be further from the truth. We’re too complex to simply be one single thing. If you can see more than one color, become the rainbow. Don’t allow anyone to cage you…not even those that love you. You get to be whoever you are; whatever your eyes get to see. You become what your endless imagination allows you to become. The people in your life are a part of that, but they are not it. You are it and only you. Society tries to cage us but we are the ones that say yes or no to that very limiting belief.

I’ve flown away from the cage and I can honestly say you can have the best of all worlds. You can enjoy earthly pleasures and still be a free bird. Your definition of freedom might change along the way and that’s a part of that liberty. Simply become whomever you want to be. And if you can’t own it, pretend. And if you can’t be it, fake it. Then, suddenly, almost out of nowhere you’ll wake up to find you are exactly who you want to be. It won’t be perfect but it’ll be the most glorious experience. And when that day comes, you’ll smile and all that will be left is sheer joy and an endless amount of gratitude. The only two emotions you want to feel when freedom has knocked on your door.

Be anyone, be anything, be.

Visibility

This is the first. This is the first time I can see him. He was there but I couldn’t see him. It turns out I was invisible. It turns out I couldn’t see myself. I realized I was invisible a few years back and started to freak out and started asking myself why. Instead of trying to become visible, I could not get over the fact that I was invisible. Maybe he was there but I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t see me.

It took me years to become visible. No one gave me the recipe. I was lonely in my invisibility. I did get to meet other invisible creatures and they were all quite interesting. Because I was invisible, I spent no time acquiring much. I don’t know how much faith I had in becoming visible. Not because I didn’t believe but because I became comfortable with not being seen. The hidden souls had an interesting pull. They listen to music that the visible can’t hear. They drink a lot of wine and talk about the pain all the time.

For an instant, I thought that was it. Except it wasn’t. I was forced to spend time with some visible creatures and as much as I tried to ignore them, they were screaming. They wanted me to come to life. Why? I wondered. They knew I wasn’t born to be hidden. They knew I could always cherish my invisibility powers but shine bright and rid myself of the fears.

I slowly started to show myself. It was a very slow process. It was a process that I wasn’t even aware was in progress. The transition was life changing. There were many losses, including parts of me. I lost touch with the invisible crowd. They kicked me out of their space when they realized what was happening. I didn’t even know it but they were starting to see me and that was breaking the cardinal rule.

I’ll never know where they are because I can’t easily see them anymore. They are gone. They will always have a special place in my heart and I remember their faces full of misery and false hope very vividly. I loved their music, their drama, their darkness.

And now it’s my first time. I get to see this beautiful green eyed creature and he is as alive as I am. Because I was formerly invisible and unaware of being so, it’s quite a fascinating experience. I am anything but one thing and he isn’t as complex but full of life and love; it’s mesmerizing. That’s the thing about the invisible ones; they have a certain kind of allure; but the visible ones are the allure. They are beautiful and unapologetic. They walk in and want to be seen.

I wasn’t sure if it’d be worth it to become visible; in certain ways it’s harder and more challenging. But then it happened and now I can’t wait to catch up. I want to do everything and go everywhere. I want to embrace life after I’ve slowly discovered myself and have walked into the light. I’m seen.

I’ll never judge the invisible ones. I’ll never judge the visible ones. I just think there’s a time and place for everything. Try not to waste too much time asking yourself why things are the way they are and work on figuring out how to become what you want to be deep inside. Choose your company accordingly.

Deep inside I wanted to be visible but couldn’t admit it. Now I am visible and the sights and sounds are positive and vibrant. I can’t believe I can see him as easily as he can see me. It’s yellow and it’s right. It’s obvious and it’s clear. It shouldn’t be confusing or negative. It should be beautiful and bright.

Who I’m supposed to be

I know who I’m supposed to be: confident, happy, strong, independent. I feel like I can have anyone. I feel powerful and in control of who I am. I walk in and everyone looks at me. Girls want to be me, men want me. I have a strong foundation and a small but very special group of friends.

I get to have it all. I work in art but with a fabulous successful life. I perfect my skills on a daily basis and never procrastinate. I have the ideal weight and don’t really have to worry about being healthy because I simply am.

I know exactly how to dress and what my look is. My past inspires me to inspire others. I have long hair and can travel as frequently as my heart desires to do so.

But then the evil forces take over.  I don’t know her name. Let’s call her Malia. She’s insecure, stupid, procrastinates and cannot seem to have her shit together. She goes on and on about her insecurities and is looking for approval from anyone and everyone.

I’m a Gemini, maybe that explains something to those who believe in that stuff. If it is true, I am in this constant battle between who I should be and how I sometimes feel I am not. Will it ever feel right? I do know that in those moments when I am who I know I’m supposed to be, life shines. The light is so bright, I can’t even stand it.

Maybe we’ll never be completely who we’re supposed to be, but better. The trials and tribulations make us more human and help us help others. I do know some people that seem to be perfect, I’m not one of them…and that’s OK.

I’m an artist and artists have the responsibility of feeling absolutely everything.

Knowing who I’m supposed to be is better than not having a clue. A few years ago I didn’t have a clue. I do not know why it has taken me so long but that’s fine too. As many books point out: you cannot go against what is. Try to become a better version of yourself little by little and try not to be too hard on yourself. I know that’s all I’m trying to do. And I know now I’ll get there somehow. I don’t know exactly how or when…but I’ll get there if it kills me. Good night and good luck.

Endings?

I’ve had a million beginnings.

Once upon a time there was a little girl. She only cared for purple and had a lovely lady watch over her. She’d tell her stories at night, so the little girl learned how to dream. They were mostly fairy tales. She started to dream. She wanted to dance, sing and get all the attention that these perfect princesses seem to naturally attract. Mandy was quiet but had dreams hidden inside. Boys never liked her, she was too strong and big for them. She’d hope there would be at least one that would come and play. He never showed.

Once upon this other time she was a teenage girl. She started to grow an interest for books, strange words, unique sounds and other weird creatures. Her loneliness made her creative. She completely forgot about the little boy that wouldn’t play with her. She was too young to remember. There were a couple of boys she fancied but they chose other girls and our dearest Mandy stood alone again. This one would be harder to forget.

Once upon any other time Mandy was in her mid twenties. She wasn’t just looking for love this time. Somewhere along the way she got distracted and lost her soul. She was looking for both now. She started with the soul first since she figured that’d be pretty useful for everything else. After trying really really hard, she found neither.

Once upon many other times our girl was tired and a few years older than before. She didn’t have a soul, she hadn’t found love but she did have a restless heart. It wouldn’t leave her alone. Here she was again, as usual, alone.

Once upon another time, she’s 30. She’s never known love. She’s the sun and recently found a moon. He doesn’t believe love exists. She likes him but isn’t sure if this is yet another perfect opportunity to be left stranded as usual in the middle of nowhere with barely enough water to survive. She running out of bandages to mend her broken heart. When will there be any sort of ending? A girl needs closure.

I guess sometimes we aren’t supposed to understand.

Once upon the perfect time…