Love, my dearest.

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Have you forgotten the days when you were ash, when you lay in shadows and glittered in the mist of the moonlit night?

And your walk was humble on the ground, and you saw a miracle in a single rose and magic in the stars?

Love- my dearest.

It has always grasped you and sheltered you even when you were ash burned from the fire of a most passionate love.

You know how low one can go, low enough to think I have died and reincarnated and simply remembering that-

everything seems beautiful… like the bird singing on my windowsill this morning, up on the 11th floor of this loud city of Los Angeles, was beautiful.

Just moments of self-reflection and remembrance of the pain this peasant heart has rooted from.

 

never forget-

love, my dearest.

 

Bonnie Bluebird

Just do it

For some reason or another, I have always wanted to run away. I guess, I felt trapped. Trapped to this life. I don’t know, I wanted so much more out of life. I wanted adventure, travel, freedom, truth, peace, happiness. And yet, when I had  the opportunity, when the butterfly decided to land on my finger, I did not taken hold of it. I feared it and ran away instead.

I have been so blissfully happy in the Honduran mountain top where I picked coffee and played music and sang songs to the skies, the rivers, and waterfalls and I could have stayed, but I didn’t… why did I come back?

I have been in an airport on the brink of staying in Mexico permanently and making a living there, and I did not do it. I returned to the responsibilities of school, and work and commitments our society has imposed on me. Why did I run from this door that opened itself to me?

I have always wanted to travel freely, without an agenda or plan, just with the compass of intuition pointing arrows to my path. I’ve met only a couple of people like this in my life. Among them was Pasqual, “the french traveler.”

He was a traveling musician and carried around a saxophone with him. He made a few dollars here and there as street performer, and made it all the way to California from France. He worked on a boat, on many farms,  hitched rides, and had various living arrangements, but most importantly he wore his heart on his sleeve. His eyes shown a vulnerable humility of a child I can’t begin to describe. I only knew him for an evening, the very evening I ran away to live in San Luis Obispo but I felt as if I knew him my whole life. I know it sounds strange.

I asked him how he is so free, and fearless. I asked him what made him do it… what made him leave his home and family. And his answers were pure, simple, and clear. He was like a version of my own fearless self. He was the person I aspire to be. His dream was to reach Brazil. And last I heard, he did. I only have his memory with me, and his collection of French music he shared with me that evening.

However, that night, we did not touch, nor kiss, but I could say I loved him. It was love. In fact, I distinctly remember him saying he loved me. But how could it be? And how could it be that I also somehow loved him too? As lovers, to love is the easiest thing to do. You would think, I’d of gone traveling with him but when he asked me to join him, I feared and turned away.

To think of it now, I beat myself up. Everything I desired at that point in time with my life, had fallen on my lap. Pasqual was like a shooting star that fell from the heavens and landed on my step and I did not run away with him…. why?

I feared. I feared and to this day Pasqual is only a dream, like a pegasus in the sky.

I’m not sure If another door will open, or another shooting star will fall for me, nor do I know if another butterfly would land on my finger, but If I am granted another chance, by God, I have got to just do it!

This life is precious and only given to us once why not live it as I have always longed to live it. At least, do it for me… if a chance like this ever comes your way… please, please take it. Jump, don’t run, don’t fear.

Just do it.

 

yours truly,

 

bluebird

 

 

Life is beautiful

I am feeling a bit under today. Sometimes, it is okay to feel blue. At least I know what I feel is real, and I wouldn’t lie and say, I am chipper all the time. I am not. Most days, I am not. I feel too much, I always have and always will. For those who feel a little blue today its okay.

To feel is beautiful. I wouldn’t trade a song that strikes the soul for nothing, even if it makes me sob. So, if ever you feel blue, know you are not alone. Everybody hurts. Remember the little things.

Beauty is in the little things.

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I’ve seen a million movies today, every second, every minute of my day is 1,000 words each; every memory, every insight of color or smell is a different movie, each with a separate soundtrack.

I saw the color red and I saw my grandmother’s hands sowing a red dress, perfectly placed under the needle of her sewing machine.

I saw red, and saw the overgrown roses, breathing life, dancing and twirling on the barbed wired fence.

I saw the green hills and heard the sleeping giants under green blankets breathing, and saw their chest rise and fall ever so gently like a peaceful sound asleep baby.

I saw a bee on my windshield and I remembered the small fact that in theory, bees are too large to fly for their undersized wings, and yet they prove physics wrong.  This resilient little visitor was like a golden nugget on my blue hazy day, reminding me that I can fly too.

Remember the little things.

Life is beautiful, even in your bluest of days.

La vie et belle.

With love, always

bluebird