Milk and Honey by Rapi Kaur

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Today, I wounded up in a bookstore and sat and read a bit of this book of which I also highly recommend. It is deeply rooted,  beautifully written poetry that touches the core. In Particular, these excerpts stood out to me the most. I tell you this because it consoled this hearts thrashing and crashing waves and calmed the hurt child within and I suddenly felt at peace even only for this moment.

As I sat on the floor, in between isles of books, I realized that I became the image of me.  I felt like me, authentic, genuine, real, true… all the things that have in the past made me feel beautiful. And I did, I felt beautiful and at peace.

Funny how that works… the more I do what I love, the more I feel love swimming within me and transcends outside of me and it is then, when I feel I become the person I am meant to be.

It’s a simple concept, I know, but I forget it often. So, I am doing myself the favor of reminding myself of it.

choose love, be love, give love, love love and all that you love will mirror you in love.

 

goodnight darlings,

thank you for listening to me.

 

your bluebird

 

*excerpt from my book

 Memories at times anchor one to the past and while the past may have been beautiful, it is no way of living- that is like clinging on to a ghost of you- a shell that is no longer inhabited by anything living and I know this well. All too well. I’ve been living in the past for far too long and every once in a while, I travel back in time, in the memories of yesterday. When I notice myself doing this, I realize, I have had a bad day- and I remember the colorful fish in a pond from my dreams. They are a kind of rare species in this world, and two of them are dead and floating in the crystalline waters of the Los Angeles Oasis which exist only in my dreams. Two of whom I loved and adored and will always love. Blue, Yellow, Green, Red, and I killed two relationships with these rare species. I cut all ties, and I miss them so, as if limbs were taken from my flesh. God knows why, and I probably deserved it. But I have to have faith in the universe, because nothing is more beautiful than that- when all is synchronized, the winds, the ruffles of paper, it is all so magical. Yes, magic does exist, and it is always the hand of the universe that creates the miracles. How then could the desert find a spring? Or the mountain be moved by a mustard seed? Or lightning grow out of pitch black night? Or a rainbow beam through a crystal? And I have faith in that. I do, and I know this and if there is anything I know it is this and only this. 

 

Venting

I’ve silenced my voices. The very curious one. the confident one- the stern one and the one that knows who she is and what exactly it is that she wants. Why have I silenced these voices? Why do I hold her back ? The free child within me, she is begging me to let her free. She has been begging as far as I can remember but lately all that there has been is silence. Is she still there?

Who am I? I do not have the slightest clue. I used to be so sure, so full of confidence in the spirit that roams within me but lately I cannot feel her. I have not even picked up my guitar and I can barely bring myself to write tonight.

A part of me is trying not to convince myself that I am ill, I fear I am.  Why do I hide? Why am I so ashamed? Whenever I feel this way I want to escape again, leave and start again, fool myself into thinking that my answers are elsewhere. And truthfully everyone and my own sanity included, keep on telling me that I should stop running away that I need to grow up and I need to learn responsibility but why do I object to it so harshly and why am I waking up every morning and force myself into wearing that coat and those black pumps… why do I force myself to be part of that corporate world? Why did I succumb to this mold that I do not fit a part of ? I’ve once said I would never be a part of and here I am succumbing for comfort for security-foolish! foolish!  I’d rather live for a penny. I could care for less for this body. Let it burn, I am tired of it keeping me down. I am sick. That is the truth, this body is ill and I could roar and scream to it and I want to beat it. Pardon me- I am only venting.

Life is hard so very hard sometimes and I feel so very much alone, I do not have my  comrade nearby, a confidant, not a true friend- perhaps I am being a bit dramatic but I do push them all away.  I push all those I love away.

And so here I lie alone, in bed in my own company filled with the traffic sounds of the restless and sleepless city of Los Angeles where the light reflects off of windows and the sirens moan in the distance. I never imagined myself being so lonely. Am I unloveable?  I wonder what it is I am doing wrong? I do not expect you to have any answers. I do not expect you to be even reading this- but well, what of it now. I may as well not post this. I just need to I don’t know- vent.

Where is she? The girl so full of love and hope. So full of adventure and mystery. Where she saw every rose like a miracle? and where she too felt like a miracle ? I suppose I am tired. I am tired of waiting. I am tired of longing. I am tired of watching all those films in front of me and people passing by with all that I desire. “They are so happy,”  I think to myself. What is that I am missing?

Can I just time travel to those old records of time where all was well and skies were blue and the roses grew? Take me there tonight. Please take me there tonight, in my sleep.

Let me dream tonight. Let me forget tonight and let me feel free.

I am tired.

good night, to this restless heart.

 

yours truly,

 

bluebird

 

 

 

 

 

I write but I never publish…

I write but I never publish I am not sure why. I write just to write, and I do not realize that sharing it would be a great deal of help to others. Some post I decide to share but most of them I do not.  Most, I never publish and isn’t that merely the opposite of what my intent here is for. I need to learn vulnerability.

I am scared of being vulnerable. Most days I feel like a pathetic human.  I don’t know anything about my life, and where it will lead me- there is no certainty in anything. I have no answers. I am just as lost and confused. But I’m trying. I’m at it. I’ll continue at it. And I will either fail again and again, or finally succeed.

And if it is out of fear, then I say the hell with it! I am not scared anymore.  Not one of our trails is the same so we have to follow our own path and no one to tell you which way to go. I’m pretty far in the journey, and I’ve made it this far I might as well keep going. Even though, I am constantly lost on this trek too and I cannot tell you what to do, but at least I can share my experience and well I can shed light to a bit of this path.  The same path we are all following with our own direction and compass.

My compass faces North. I want to go up. So, I will only look up. That, I know. If you want to look up with me, dream with me, risk it all with me. Then by all means, come with me. You are not alone. We are not alone.

I write and today, I will publish.

 

yours truly,

 

Leah

 

 

Journal Entry 3.31

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I’ve lost count of the date or time. As of now, there is no time only the present and I am sulking in the sun, listening to the crashing sounds of the waves, the distant laughter of children, and the great Billie Holiday playing in the background. It is quintessentially an afternoon of leisure and I am succumbing to it entirely. Open arms, head high up to the clouds, so willing-  fully surrendered, and it is incredibly freeing.  I am free and I don’t give a rats ass what anyone thinks or has to say. I am me and may I always remember this fierce voice in me ah!- because she is so full of life and wonder and excitement, so full of adventure! and she will never again surrender herself to the mundane and pointless thoughts of others. I am me- and I am starting to really like her. Yeah, she’s pretty cool- I approve and that my dear loves, is the first signs of self love!

 

 

 

Muah!

 

yours affectionately,

 

bluebird

 

 

 

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

I couldn’t wait to write all day…

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I couldn’t wait to write all day. All it takes is 15 min to detox or vent. To cleanse the pallete of the mind from utter chaos of mesh to a crystal clear zen.

It is like medicine some say, and for me it has been my survival mechanism. Every time shit gets down, I turn to the pen. But I am not surviving anymore, I am enjoying life and even then I turn to it. Could it be my hand was meant to do some writing? jaja

It’s my dream world, my escape, and sometimes my world is more beautiful than the one I see daily.

really, it is. I wish I could take you there one day. It’s my Neverland, if you may.

One day.

 

stay sweet,  lovelies.

yours truly,

 

bonnie bluebird