Today I saw a red rose on the pavement…

 

Today I saw a red rose on the pavement.

 How did it get there? Why was it there? What love was rejected?

I don’t know why I stoped to look at it or why it impacted me. Was it because I thought that such a beautiful thing as a rose belongs in a glass case?

and then I turn to myself, and think of myself as that rose on the pavement. No one sees me, and I too have been abandoned on the pavement.

 I should have picked it up, and I should have put it in a glass, pressed it in a book- but I didn’t.

Instead I went on my way to sing, “Como la Flor” on my way to work.

and I didn’t consider it until now, that perhaps we accept the love we think we deserve.

The next rose I see, abandoned on the floor, I’ll make sure to pick it up and give it a proper home. just like my love deserves to be.

sincerely yours,

bluebird

To speak of Importance…

 

 

 

Those who speak of importance speak of necessity

we must have air to breathe,

 food to eat,

a shelter to sleep

a coat- some warmth- at least!

Speak no more of necessities!

It dissatisfies me

 it is but a life with no meaning, no feeling

I need love to breathe, affection to eat!

why breath

why eat

 why live

without love

love feeds the hungry soul

laughter warms it

affection shelters it

I live for I breathe for beyond the cravings of the flesh

I live for I breathe for a spiritual sense!

What I love…

 

What I love… I love reading, writing, I love my coffee in the morning. I love books, film, photography. I love flowers in the Spring, eucalyptus, lavender, dried flowers pressed in my books, flowers as gifts, flowers picked from the fields, flowers from past lovers. I love nostalgia. I love candles, chocolate, and wine. I love being wild and irresponsible. I love grapes. I love eating and singing and dancing. I love nature and camping. I love travel, backpacking, hiking, I love adventure. I love Edgar Allen Poe, Mark Twain, Walt Whitman, and John Steinbeck. I love the ocean and the sea and the cliffs and the forest and the trees. I love hand-written letters and postcards, I love little notes and all my journals. I love music, and family, and food, and sharing meals. I love people, people laughing, people smiling, people crying. I love hugs, I love fires, fires that burn, fires that ember, fires that smoke. I love the rain and the moon. I love the shapes the clouds form, the colors of the sunset, and the constellation of the stars. I love magic and rooftops. I love warm Summer nights and cozy Winter blankets, I love the leaves of the Fall. I love to sleep,  to sleep with my lovers, watch films with my lovers, snuggling with my lovers, being silent with my lovers. I love talking, caressing, I love nurturing. I love my dog and my plants. I love this pen. I love this paper. I love, I love… I love the wind, the breeze, the fresh linen scent, a clean house, home cooked meals, I love brotherhood and camaraderie. I love, I love… so much but I don’t know a damn thing about how to love.

 

From yours truly,

bluebird

The City of Angels

Today I had the most beautiful encounter with a stranger. I thought that perhaps he was  an Angel.

I was reading in one of my favorite places in Los Angeles, a bookstore called “The Last Bookstore,” and next to me sat a young man. A humbly dressed man with a genuine stride and simple gaze about him. Not noticing much else from this man, I kept on my reading.

When in a moment he stood up from his seat, knelt on one knee and leaned over to speak to me. He introduced himself as a kind of a psychic, “he notices things,” and said he just wanted to know if I would prove him right. I saw no harm in it so I said, “sure, what is your question?” He asked, “are you single?” “Yes,” I said.  And he walked away saying, “I was wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” I thought. But I let it be and kept on reading my book of short-stories by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, a bit intrigued by the man to be honest. The second time he approached me he said, “I don’t want you to think I am weird but I really just wanted to talk to you and tell you that I am so proud you are single.” He went on saying that I should protect my heart for the right person who will care for it and nurture it.

I have a reputation for trusting the wrong sort of people and I’ll tell you I have been broken like glass one too many times.

Image result for the last bookstore

“Nowadays,” he said, “people don’t protect their love enough and just give their heart to the wrong hands. I commend you and respect you.” I broke in a smile and said, “Thank you. That means a lot to me. Thank you.” I felt beautiful. He made me feel so beautiful.

I summoned myself back to my reading but all the while I wondered how he knew what to say exactly what I needed to hear. And in that thought he approached me the third time and said, “Can I say one last thing?” I had already begun to trust his ambition and intent and said, “yes, of course.”  He said, “If ever you meet someone who truly captivates you, speak up, say something, express your love. Don’t hold back and don’t be afraid to love.” And I smiled in agreement and said, “yes, I will do that. Thank you.”

As of late, I have been learning these lessons of love in my dreams, in Rumi’s poems and have also learned I tend to close off. I’ve forgotten how to love due to protecting myself from being hurt again. I’ve numbed myself to the emotion. But how did a perfect stranger in one of the largest cities in the world know to tell me this?

He said, “I’ll show you. I’ll be an example. It won’t be easy and I am scared but I want to show you” He took a deep breath, held his chest and said, “I think you are beautiful, different, and unique. I don’t meet many people like you and I find you captivating. I just wanted to say that and demonstrate love and openness to you.”

And while it was very flattering it was more inspirational. He was a teacher leading by example. “Thank you,” I said, ” You were very brave and I don’t think you are weird. You are the only human here in a room full of books and lost angels.” I got up and put my book back on the shelf and parted ways saying,” Hopefully we meet again. It’s a big city but a very small world.” And I left him with a smile.

As I walked away, another man had asked to sit next to him to read and he had begun to engage in another real conversation with him.

I truly believe I met an Angel today and I feel so blessed to have been guided by him. Lessons are all around us if we listen.

 

As always, with love 

bluebird