Happy endings 

The story starts, continues and doesn’t end. Will it be a comedy or a tragedy? Stay tuned.

She doesn’t seem to care enough about her happy ending but more and more about the present moment. 

Will she be the hero of her story? Will she stay? Will she go? She makes it up as she goes along. She’s gone too long not knowing that she doesn’t know any other way. 

Yes, she had dreams and wants to make them come true but suffering seems a high price to pay.

Peace and joy should be the happy ending. When did we get confused? Disney had a big part of it. You’re suppose to live in a castle: luxury. Find Prince Charming: the perfect relationship. Be the fairest one of them all: flawless beauty. And be loved by the whole land: be what everyone else expects you to be. 

I think the story needs some mending and a better happy ending. It’s hard to not want what we were programmed to want. And there are things I don’t have that I desire which I hope to get. But I want to learn to be OK even when things aren’t OK. Mother has done this, so can I. 

Create your happy ending and ask yourself whether what you want is true or if it’s just been chosen for you. Question it.

For me, now, peace and joy in the present moment is my happy ending and I hope I continue to make it so on a daily basis.

Daydreams

I woke up and decided that today I’ll skydive. I get there and there are some skydiver friends. I decide to be brave and just do it. The guys are really nice and supportive. I do some cool stuff up in the air and everyone, including myself, is impressed.

The next day I’m at Burning Man and I’m super fit and have the perfect weird clothes I’m suppose to parade around. Fashion is life. I walk around and I’m friends with all. There is peace and joy in my heart. 

The next day I decide I want to sing. I gather a group of people and I sing. A local radio station owner hears me and asks if I’d like to be on one of his shows; I gladly accept. 

I’m a painter and I start to put my work out there. My paintings get sold fairly easily and I am over the moon and cannot believe this is happening to me!

In my free time I enjoy taking photos. I go out with my semi professional camera and take mesmerizing pictures. Some of them make it into cool websites and people really love them; I do too. 

The next day I decide it’s time. I’m going to publish my book and it’s gonna help so many people that the word gets out and Ellen Degeneres finds out about it and invites me to her show. I’m psyched but mostly extremely happy to be making a difference through my art. 

I daydream these stories daily. I wish and I hope and reality still does not compare. I do paint, I do have a book, I do take photos with my semi professional camera and I do sing. But why can’t I put myself out there? I don’t know. 

Daydreams keep me alive and I long for the day when my daydreams and real life become one. I swear my heart is in the right place and I will continue to improve my energy so that I attract opportunities to shine and do what I was put here to do: art.

Maybe the happy ending

It’s a little bit messy and imperfect. It’s a little bit beautiful and confusing. We all want the happy ending, but where is it? It is here and I just missed it? Or is it not here and it’s what motivates us to get out of bed in the morning? I’m not sure and that’s O.K.

Martin says it should all be pretty and fun. Him saying that helps. Me actually believing that is a whole other story. I love characters and I love stories; maybe that’s why I always expect that haunting happy ending. I like the part of the story where there’s struggle because it makes it interesting and intense. It’s been a bit more boring than usual and the fight feels long. Being real can feel like a full time job. Being real has never been hard but it is hard when someone refuses to see authenticity. Some do. Some don’t. That’s that.

Trees are always beside me and they speak to me. Their strength and their roots remind me that some things do last even throughout windy and dark times. We must keep calm and carry on. Will I keep getting older and have my dreams waiting for me anxiously to make them a reality?  I hope not for long; I hope not forever. I hope I can get a head start and finish soon enough to get some sort of prize. I hope the audience won’t be gone by the time the curtain goes up. I know talking about this isn’t as transcendent as actually doing something about it. But hey, I’m used to being a tortured artist; I can’t help myself.

Maybe the happy ending is now. Maybe we create it and accepting its imperfections is what matters most. Maybe.

The thought of you

The thought of you is haunting. It crawls in and it won’t let go of me. The memories last because they’re deep. The feeling has a name but I haven’t found it yet. The thought changes its form and it always takes your place. The thought of you smiles at me and knows. It knows what I’m feeling and how deep it goes. It had waited to find me because my heart had to grow big enough to feel you. Logic tries to deny me the pleasure of going in; today I won’t let it.

Passion grows and it shape shifts into trees and moments and experiences that never seem to end. I’m underwater and I’m up in the air. I’m here and I’m there and I’m everywhere and all I can see and think is you. I close my eyes and the thought is felt by the touch of your hand and that very unique smile on your face you have when you see me. It reminds me how much you love me even when you’re not close enough to hold me. It whispers lullabies that sound sweet and soft. It sometimes screams and makes me feel alive. The thought of you also reminds me of the challenges and it kindly tells me that love isn’t the absence of hardship but the growth it inevitably brings. I smile knowing that the path is lived tighter and closer than before because of them. I found the thought of you in my head and it was chasing me. You sometimes take a hold of me and I let you because it feels amazing and inspiring. Your eyes are leaves. As a child I always wanted a leaf because it is perfect and beautiful and sheds green and light wherever it happens to be; your eyes do the same for me. They shed green and light and give me hope even when hopelessness is trying to bring me down.

The thought of you reminds me who I was and who I am. It reminds me how deep down inside I knew all along what was real and what wasn’t. I thought I was insane for wanting more and wanting it as soon as humanly possible. It turns out the thought of you was real way before I met you. Having faith felt impossible at times because having you was necessary; and even though you were very close, we were worlds apart. The difficulties and mistakes from the past had to be lived and made in order to be able to finally see you. I probably passed by you a thousand times but I just couldn’t see you. You say I’m the invisible woman because you weren’t ready to see me. I couldn’t see you either. Now I see you, I feel you and I think you. Now you’re here.

The future is always unknown but the present is given and is meant to be enjoyed and acknowledged. The thought of you today needed to be felt. The thought of you keeps going and loves the red and the raw and the passion. The thought of you makes me smile and makes me want to be completely and absolutely me. It teaches me about compassion and growth and it reminds me how love should be. It isn’t perfect, it’s magical.

In love

I’m in love. Just like that, it happened. Most of my posts were about this alluring energy that always escaped me. And then suddenly, just like the sun obviously rises every day, I was in love; madly so. How? I do not know. It just did. I hate to sound so generic but that’s exactly what it felt like.

His green eyes never looked so real; his smile never so white. It wasn’t at all what they tell you it is. It’s deeper. I won’t say better or worse because those adjectives should never be used to describe humans. It’s simply deeper, more complex.

The colors of the rainbow finally seem to make sense. You no longer question why red is on the outside, you’re fine because it simply is. Even when chaos surrounds, you want to smile. Life feels lighter and the days brighter. You can simply sit next to each other and have nothing bother you. I’m a recovering over-thinker and I never thought this could be so. I never thought I could just let it be.

Hearts aren’t as generic as you once thought they were. They are actually precious gems that must be protected at all costs and cherished constantly. You’re no longer reckless with what you say because there is a creature in your life that cares that actually listens to everything you say and how you say it. You no longer think that life is simply about the waiting. The waiting is indeed the hardest part about the living and in a blink of an eye, it becomes forgotten and almost nonexistent as soon as someone walks in the door and never lets you go.

You unexpectedly and slowly change. You remind yourself of the promises you made to yourself when you were single and honor them but always leaving room for change. If not, how could it bloom? It couldn’t. You think you’re tough until someone cuts you open and makes you face the softest sides of yourself. The sides you were trying to hide from because you were afraid of what you might find; only to find they were precisely the parts of yourself you needed to see the most.

Kisses become a regular part of your routine. Happiness becomes much more obvious and flowers seem to bloom in a much more natural way than they did before; they turn to the sun naturally.

You know and you remember who you used to be but you simply become a more beautiful version of yourself, you bloom. You feel understood, held and warm.

I’m in love. Just like that, it happened.

Why perfection?

It’s an abandoned place. There’s a little girl that feels lonely. She doesn’t know what to do except pretend that everything’s perfect and express herself. There isn’t much to eat and she’s lost a few pounds. She’s pale and has short hair. She has forgotten what real life looks like. All she owns is one skin colored dress. Her feet are dirty from walking around.

She grows up through struggle. She doesn’t know what she deserves. Against all odds, she survives. She doesn’t know what to do so she decides to create. She dances and she sings. She starts to write these imperfect stories. Because of these imperfect stories, she’s curious about others that have also led imperfect lives. Perfection seems like an impossible dream. She still fights for it.

She’s on her way there and gets trapped in the middle. In between the old broken life she had and the perfect one she strives to achieve. Will she get there? It’s up to her.

On a cloudy afternoon she looks up and sees what she’s created. She’s made songs, she’s made a mess but she’s made something. The little girl is now a woman and she likes to forget. But when she remembers, she documents. She sees pain and feels it. She also sees a strange kind of beauty in others. She opens her eyes and realizes that the ugliness made her. The graffiti wasn’t a mistake after all, it was art. The stories she tells reminds others of where she’s been and how there’s nothing wrong with it, even when it shouldn’t have happened.

The hungry little girl still lives inside of her. Why strive for perfection? She doesn’t know but she doesn’t want what wasn’t meant to be had. Maybe perfection lives wherever we are now and what we get to create with what we have.

Seeing others have these seemingly perfect lives makes her wonder why it doesn’t feel like that for her. It doesn’t matter. What matters most is that she express herself. Even if all else fails, she must create. What saved her as a little girl will be what saves her as an adult.

Alle is beautiful. She doesn’t remember it often and others don’t tell her enough, but she is perfect. She might not feel it but her abilities are beyond belief. She’s flawed and isn’t afraid to show it and that’s as close to perfection as anyone could ever get.

Saying goodbye

A lot is gone. Much has been taken. I feel nothing, there’s nothing to do. There’s nothing to feel. It has all been taken, piece by piece. I feel paralyzed. Being paralyzed isn’t as bad as you’d think. My heart has left me alone. It still tries to sneak in, but it has been mostly peaceful. I’m standing here in the middle of nowhere with an angel that whispers encouraging wisdom and a bit of a broken soul. I feel calm, I feel tired. I still have a lot to do and I just don’t know how or where to start. When so much vanishes and you still manage to survive, you realize you don’t need much to begin with.

I want to say goodbye. Goodbye not only to the friends I’ve lost but the pain I’ve allowed them to cause. Goodbye not only to the work but to the disappointment I allowed it to provide. I’m saying goodbye to the love I never got but thought I deserved. I want to say goodbye, not in a dramatic way but in the most honest way I can possibly say goodbye.

I must part ways with the feelings of inadequacy. I must say goodbye. I have had lovely moments, I have had a lot. I cannot continue being close with anything or anyone that makes me feel unhappy. I have a hard time honoring this beautiful mess but I must. Whenever you feel unpleasantness for being yourself or for moments from the past, try to honor them as if you’d choose them all over again.

I have to say goodbye to how I used to think. I have to say goodbye to frustration and emptiness. It has been quite loyal but we must part ways. I must embrace uncertainty and fearlessness.

I’m saying goodbye to a job and a city that I really liked. But I’m also saying goodbye to any form of attachment I ever had to it. If we get attached, we suffer. If I ask myself, why me? Then I’m saying that what is happening is bad and I have no right to do that. We have no right to do that, not anymore.

I’m saying goodbye to the pain, the attachment, the suffering, the expectations, my age, hopelessness, doubt, disbelief, comparison, emptiness, insecurities and much more.

I cannot continue asking myself what is right or wrong. I simply want to let things be and let go of whatever isn’t mine. Yes, it’s a tough goal but I can do it. I will work on whatever I can control and let go of what weighs me down. Saying goodbye shouldn’t be hard, it should simply be a part of life that we should embrace as much as we can.

Goodbye.

The girl in the coffee shop

I sit by myself constantly. Whenever I see someone else be me, I can recognize the red balloon.

The red balloon is mine for an instant then it belongs to a different girl. I sent it to her and she gladly accepted it.

As soon as she sees me, she smiles. The red is familiar and we’re in each other’s shoes. The red flats expand and contract to fit our feet perfectly. She’s who I am and is doing what she’s supposed to. She’s as close to me as anyone could be.

I easily forget how connected we were born to be. Invisibly linked.

Lovely books remind me how, in fact, we are all one. I cannot judge without taking myself down with my very strong opinion.

I sit here by myself and know that someone somewhere is doing the exact same thing, feeling exactly how I’m feeling and then it’s not even possible to feel lonely.

Right now I am the girl with the red balloon, and tomorrow I can be the girl with all the people around her, celebrating her being.

It’s funny how this life thing was created to function.

I keep my glass full of water and smile at August as it gave me a life changing book, a job opportunity and endless amounts of unexpected blessings. It also kept away people no longer meant to be in my life.

Let there be light for the girl with the beautifully healed scars that sits by herself. As she smiles, she’s reminded how lovely she was born to be and how lucky she is because she gets to be a girl.

Yes, she knows she’s the girl in the coffee shop with the red balloon and wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stick together

I have been selfish in the past, sometimes I still am. Today is my one-year anniversary of living in a beautiful, well-preserved Spanish Baroque influenced city in the Central America. All I can feel is gratitude. It has given me the opportunity to come back to life. It might not be perfect, but it’s magical and full of opportunities.

I have fallen in love, fallen in lust, gotten jobs, had my heart horribly broken, lost weight, enjoyed the company of authentic friends, taught, celebrated, laughed and cried. It has been fantastic and yet challenging. But I have learned to live life. I have learned to be happy with what I have. I have found the way to do what feels right and almost completely let go of everything else. I have understood how to care but not suffer.

And I have come to understand that if you can’t do it for yourself, you should do it for another. Do it to help them out someday. Do it so that they don’t give up in whatever odd path they find themselves in. You have no idea how much it’ll mean. I sometimes wonder what went wrong and if I could have done something differently but then I remember there’s nothing to regret and that I’m never really alone. We’re all in this together. I get a feeling that someone is going through the exact same situation and then I share and feel better.

Without directly knowing how, I know the struggle and the fight will be well worth it. I’m grateful for what I’ve lived through, for the wonderful people I’ve met and the sights and sounds that have pulled me back here another year.

Because of it, I am inspired to keep writing, to keep believing and know that whatever is meant to be, will be. I believe that more than ever. It’s hard to let go, but whatever is yours, no one else can have. So, when it comes to choosing passion; do it for you and do it for another. This living thing makes more sense if we stick together. The consequence of that choice for me has been peace. And peace is the greatest thing I’ve ever experienced. If you know you’re not alone, you’ll realize there’s nothing to worry about and that there’s nothing to lose.

Exhibit a

You’re standing right in front of me. I see you and it makes me smile. Then you leave and I remember what you said and I keep thinking I might have made it up in my head but then it hits me…you actually said it. As with all matters of the heart, its unpredictability is scary but you can’t go against a force of nature. There’s no way of knowing what could happen but there is a way of enjoying these crazy volatile hearts. I kept wondering whether I liked a guy or not, and I don’t know if it’s just me, but I know right away, in an instant. When it’s there, it’s there and when it isn’t…there’s no point in wasting any time with it. You’re there.

You’re sitting and I can see the veins running through your arms. I keep forgetting and then I wake up and remember and a burst of energy runs through my body. We have an instrument in common and the strings remind me how music can heal anything, almost as much as time can.

Writing is making me become cautious. How can one trust again when the recovery process feels painful and endless? I don’t know but, against all odds, we always do. I swear if hearts could be examined, mine should be exhibit a. I can feel it trying to burst out of my chest sometimes. I can feel it die when people toss it around. I can feel its changing colors and its different shades depending on what I’m wearing.

What every beating part of it really wants is to be treated with care, never forgetting how fragile but strong it can be. Exhibit a is in your hands at the moment and all I can do is hope. Hope that you’ll examine it carefully, not dropping it or tossing it around. It might be only one of many but I’ve been told it’s quite unique. Be kind. And as Amanda would say: “it doesn’t matter if you want it back, you’ve given it away.” The parts are given away forever. The parts we give away for examination will always remain in the hands of the trusted, the fortunate brave ones.