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.

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“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

 

 

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To offer a rose

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I had a tiny seed in my palm. It meant to grow like a rose in my hand. So that I may offer a gentle kiss of beauty in this cruel, sick-twisted world. But, I think I may have drowned that voice and I might have killed the seed. I have seen more cruelty than beauty… and I have shattered like glass… so broken and so tiny.

I used to want to offer a rose. If it weren’t for the pistol, the knife, the thorns…

 

 

your one and only,

bluebird

 

P.s. I have a show tomorrow… at a new venue! So, here is to counting our blessings! wish me luck!

 

What is the highlight of your day?

I think my heart will always be on the road… Today,  my traveling heart was touched and the travel bug in me was woken up.

I try to ask myself this question daily… and I challenge to ask yourself the same…What was the highlight of your day? The thing that stood out the most and made the most impression.

It can be any minute detail like the hummingbird stoping to pose for you, or an interaction you had with a stranger, the smell of your favorite blossom, or even the purple avenue of blossoms on your early morning commute to work this Spring. It can be a smile, a laugh, anything– a song you heard, a message you received, anything that makes your heart whole even if it is a second.

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Today, my highlight was speaking Spanish to an Argentinean couple that came in to purchase a cup of coffee. I instantly felt at ease. Travelers. I feel most at ease with travelers. Adventurers. Dreamers…

They could barely say a word in English, and I knowing the Spanish language switched my gears and helped them in Spanish. I noticed their Spanish had a particular dialect, I figured it was from Spain but they quickly corrected me and said they where from Argentina. I pressed my hands to my chest, and said,” Ah, Argentina, he querido ir a Argentina,” or “Oh, Argentina, I’ve been wanting to go to Argentina.” I commented how so many poets, writers, musicians, and artist come from Argentina. And they went on to comment on Latino America, and their strong sense of hospitality and amiable nature. I agreed. I said, I admired it and crave it.

I told them it is my dream to see it one day, and they offered me their home, a place to stay. “Ya cuando quieras, nos vienes a visitar,” or “When you want, come and visit us.”  And we left our exchange at that… a kind of so long, I’ll be seeing you.

Maybe I’ll open up a cafe there one day and live there for a couple years. I dream of days like this, and after today, I feel a sense that it can and might come true. Todo es posible, hasta lo que parece ser imposible… or in other words, all is possible, even all that what seems to be impossible.

 

Cheers!

 

from a traveler at heart,

 

bluebird.

Journal Entry

Rarely do I share my journal entries… but today is another day and well, why not?

I wrote this this morning, while on my first cup of coffee.

I was feeling mostly moved by the man who picked recyclables out of trash cans and was saddened by the fact that we turn away from these sights. If we see a homeless man hungry on the street, or a less fortunate man, we turn away. We pretend they are not there. We have become numb… myself included. So, in honor of that man, the least I can do is share what I wrote about him today and even then it is not enough…

Here is to that man without a name.

 

people are painting a picture and I am not part of it.

The old clock tower rings in the distance

The old ladies walk with their fine dress and big hats

some carry shopping bags and

others converse about how to cook purple potatoes

Mothers walk with their strollers

and children are crying for milk

The sun is shining, the skies are blue, everything is so polished

The man in a business suit hold his dry cleaning off of one shoulder

and checks to see the time on his gold wrist watch

All of them paint a perfect picture

and I am no where in there

nor is the man with a black trash bag collecting recyclables off of every trash can

To everyone else he is invisible

To me, he is the only living being, true, and real in this picture.

 

It might be that I am too damn sensitive. I could cry over an injured bird or a butterfly with a broken wing. But, I was made this way. So, if I could shine any light to it, I will. If I can do anything, I will. My voice is my instrument. So the least I can do is write about it.

 

Cheers, salute, salud, y sante

 

your very own,

 

bluebird

 

Singing @ Dba 256

Hi, its been a while. I don’t know what is up? -a dry spell, no ambition, no enthusiasm. I could kick myself because I know now is the time to work hard, to just do and I often find myself not doing… it’s a shame.

One thing is for certain, I could be having a shit day, which I have had a few lately, but when I sing on Wednesday nights all is well with the world. Nothing could shake me, shatter me or break me. Singing has become my drug.

The fear is exhilarating. My heart throbs uncontrollably that it feels it might just break out of my chest. No one is there. Not a soul exist but mine and the spirit that swims within me. And when I  sing, there is nothing else but me, and my song, and the emotion in me dying to break free of silence and I release, I levitate, and I am free.

I can sense the eyes, the looks, the approvals, people stop their conversations, peek their heads over, and they just listen for just a few seconds while my song fills the room. And I watch the walls compress and stop breathing and I watch the walls throb to my beating heart and all those who inhibit it. If I ever get close to any sort of magic, it is this feeling. I feel magic flowing out of my soul.

It is not mine, it has never been mine but I am glad to have finally released it, unveil it, let it free. I just wish I can do it everyday. If I can sing everyday, I would, but that is a luxury. So, for now, I am happy to have the opportunity of a regular stage which was an accident in the first place.

It was not until this year, when I finally gathered the guts to sing at an open mic. One night, I went over to my local wine bar, the Dba256 in downtown Pomona, where I knew they were hosting an open mic. I signed up and sang, “Angel Baby” and “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac and ever since then, I was invited to return every other Wednesday’s and Saturdays evenings for the 2nd Saturday Art Walk, and it has since then been my medicine, my drug, my freedom. I want more, so much more…

wish me luck!

Here is to you, to us, and to all of our artistic pleasures!

 

Cheers,

 

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

 

 

Dream of the Horizon

I don’t know why but today I am remembering a dream… a dream I fondly remember. It is a reoccurring dream where at times I am running, walking, chasing. The most recent one I had, I was even riding a bicycle but I swear, it always feels like I am flying.

It kind of reminds me a little of Salvador Dali’s painting of a melting clock in the orange sunset sand, kissed by the deep, warm orange light of the setting sun. All I see is the Southwest terrain, perhaps even cacti on either side of the path. Ahead of me, is a straight and clear path leading me to the horizon and for some reason I feel I can touch it, reach it, and take hold of it.

I feel blissful just staring at it. Happiness is at my reach and I am always so willing to chase it. I don’t have a reason for this chase now but when I am dreaming I know what is at the end of my journey… something gold, fluid like honey, prosperous… these are empty words I am using to try to explain what the promise of the horizon gives me.

I am always alone in this journey but I never feel empty, rather I feel whole. I am completely and utterly contempt living in the present, in awe with the view in front of me. I am in the moment and completely focused in on the view of the Southwest geometric rocks of red and the contrast of the dark outstretched shadows. It almost feels as if I have entered another dimension.

When I am dreaming this, I not only remember the dream as one I have had before, I know what is at the end of my journey. However I always, always wake up before I reach it. Last time, I ended up with a flat tire and searching for a bike repair shop. I wounded up in a cave with a nomad couple who happened to own a bicycle shop and had offered to fix my bike as a form of gratitude for seeking the light, the horizon and chasing the sun. They had given me a sort of blessing to continue my quest, whatever it is…

I’ve had a rough couple of days lately, because as of late this chase of mine, this dream of mine, seems almost unreal, hopeless. I doubt. I fear. But all that aside, like Paulo Choelo puts it…I am a “warrior of the light,” and I’ll die chasing the sun if I have to. Yes, I will doubt. No, I will not surrender. It is  only this I know and I’ll do my best to seek it, to chase it, to find it.

yours truly,

 

Bluebird

 

 

 

 

Own your crazy

It is a hot day. I feel it at a high of 85 degrees and I am home hibernating. No one is around and this is my alone time and my me time which I rather quiet enjoy.

Yes, I am a lonely person. No, I am not sad. I am lonely by choice. I enjoy my solitude, my world. I know I am peculiar person, a strange one, a perplexing one, and I accept it now. Finally.  I accept it. Lately, I have been having this urge to run away again, and go off to another adventure. I reckon an adventure soon… I look forward to be as silent as a tree, or a cloud, and still as a mountain. I look forward to hiding among them.

How can I be sad when I am outdoors, in front of a body of water, in front of a mountain, the sea, the shore? If I am laughing, singing, writing, I am happy. If I am dancing, running, flying, I am happy. I don’t need company. I am happy to simply be living. I am happy to simply be human, born human, with the sensibility of a human. Think how miraculous to be born a human and not a fly,  an ant, a lizard? Why waste the breath we were granted and the spirit we were housed with?

You know, I’ve always wanted my very own version of the Walden Pond, away from society. I always fancied the idea, I’ve always admired that lifestyle. I also have always visualized myself living this way or some kind of rendition of it. I don’t know why I do?

I don’t know why I love Steinbeck’s writing and his works. I don’t know why I have so much respect for Joan Baez and Bob Dylan, Paulo Choelo, Whitman, or Mark Twain. What is it about Frida Kahlo and Emily Dickinson, Audrey Hepburn, or Marilyn? What is about John Lennon, Selena, Bob Marley, that is so entrancing? I don’t know why I like what I like.

Why is it that I like the sound of the train? The smell of house paint or glue? Why do I like the way I feel the pen in between my fingers, or I like the stride of ink glide onto my paper? I don’t know why I like all this sad sappy stuff. Why I am so damn compassionate to the point of brink? I don’t know why, but it will never change… I was born this way and it is about time I learn to embrace it, own my crazy…  After all, I am only a moth looking for her light.

I know I am some sort of crazy but I know I am also beautiful. I feel it. I feel beauty when all the butterflies I’ve seen today have flirted around me, twirling around my aura and scent. I feel beauty when the hummingbird leads me or the little boy at the market feels bashful in front of me. I feel beauty when a gentlemen holds the door for me… I feel beauty in a gust of wind sweeping past me.

I am strange and beautiful, as are you. I know you feel beauty too. Everyone is beautiful in their own way. So, its time to own it… Own your crazy. There is only one of me and one of you in this entire world, and we have a chance to shine, to speak, to be the change we want to see and by all means do it. We do need it….

respectfully yours,

Bluebird

 

More will come

There are a lot of things I keep to myself. I keep them in, in my world just as I know them to be, without another’s vision of it to cloud my view.

No one knows my personal battles, personal conflicts. But, we all have them. We all have to learn to deal with them. We all have our own path and journey we are walking with a world of symbols that we empower… I just hope I follow the signs, the symbols.

We all learn to deal with them on our good days, it is hardest to deal with them when things go wrong or take a turn. Today, I had some bad news for me. But, I got to remember that things will go wrong. It is inevitable and the truth is we can’t have it all. We can’t all be happy all the time. We have to remember all the reasons we should be happy. It isn’t easy but it can be done.

Really, I have nothing to moan about… nothing to weep about. I am under the Monday afternoon sun, writing, with my pup on my lap. I’m hoping to move out soon. I’m singing. I want to do an open mic this coming Sunday. I am young, I am healthy, I am safe. I have warmth. I have shelter. What should I complain about? Why should I insult my blessings. More will come, when we do right by us, more will come.

Life is too beautiful to be worried about struggles, or pains, giving them more importance they they deserve. Other things need to be shined upon. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. There is freedom from the cacoon stage, and we’ll fly out with wings in due time. I have hope and faith in this.  I’ll take it to the grave believing this if I have to. Keep on longing, dreaming, searching, it won’t abandon you nor will it leave you astray.

so, chin up. Have faith and hope, more will come.

 

your very own,

 

bluebird

 

 

Wish me luck!

I will be singing tonight at my local wine bar and I am feeling rather nervous. It is so humbling to be on stage. But you know, It’s not very often I am on stage so I am going to enjoy it as much as I can and remember why I sing, for who I sing for….

The songs I cover are so close to my heart and many peoples hearts because they heal the soul somehow. They provoke emotion of some kind and even go as far as touch the heartstrings of your soul. At least that is what it does to me. I want to be able to transcend such emotion. If I have done this than I used the stage and microphone for a good purpose and I did not take my time on stage for granted.

 

Wish me luck please! I sure do need it.  I am facing fear head to head and I think I’ve got a chance!

be courageous and face your fears, good things always come after it.

 

Always, always,

 

your very own,

 

Bluebird