Keep on, Dreaming on

I have lived very beautiful moments in my life. I forget all that I have lived. I’ve seen the sun mist morning pastures of Honduras in the early rise of the morning where I was woken up by the call of the rooster and the morning song of the birds. I spent hours upon hours laying on a hammock singing my favorite songs and dabbling with the guitar.  I have fallen asleep to the moonlit night in the wide open space, glazing at the mouth of the universe. I have seen a wave the size of Moby-Dick himself, threaten me with its omnipotence. And when I went winding up the hills of Italy, I wanted to kiss the foothills that have allowed me to behold its great beauty. I’ve seen the sunset of New Mexico against its red skin sand bleed in a blanket of warmth. I have many a moments when I have been humbled like a grain of sand and I had to swallow a lump of tears down my throat.

I have felt at times I’ve flown a car above the San Luis Obispo hills, high from society and I kid you not, it almost seemed like California cows were floating with the clouds. My life has been so full of dreams, so surreal, so lucid and so spectacular. I forget life is truly magical. Books can be written about the characters I’ve met. Shall I tell you about the Unicorn, Jack Nass or the French Traveler,  Pasqual? Should I tell you about the artist, the peacemakers, the dreamers, and the romantics?

I wish I did them all justice. Maybe one day but I have got to remember all that I have encountered to remind myself all that I am capable of.  Away, with my self-limiting habits!

Right now, I am the moth following the stream of light. I am dreamer looking for her dream… It is just a matter of time before I find the light.

Here is to wishing, waiting, to longing. Keep the fire burning, keep the light alive.  Keep on dreaming. Keep on dreaming on! Cheers.

 

your one and only,

 

bluebird

The Time is Now

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Sign of Spring. Orange blossoms from our orange trees.

This Spring I have plans to unearth my love for raising plants.

When I was 12. I was deeply depressed. Sometimes we forget how lonely it is to be young. We forget how much we understand and comprehend…I call it my silent stage. Since I spoke to no one and no one spoke to me. Not my immediate family or friends. I preferred my solitude. You see, this way no one could hurt me. I was like this for many years. And the only that kept me sane was this pen and caring for our plants. We forget plants are living things. They teach and feel and I love my fruit tress more than you can imagine.

So in honor of the 12 year old girl who felt peace in caring for her Pomona fruit trees and plants, I shall rekindle that spirit in me and grow herbs and flowers and lavender for luck.

Father says to wait until the second moon. That should be in about 28 days, give or take. You see, my father was a farmer in his mother land, El Salvador, and I trust his green thumb in raising fruits.

All I want to do is raise fruits, flourish, provide and give. I’m tired of quieting. I am tired of silencing.

So here is to and end of quieting. I shall raise my voice, sing, and speak. I shall grow my garden and raise my own kings. I’m ready to blossom and bloom and there is no time like now.

The time is now.

Until then.

your very own,

bluebird

 

P.S. Tomorrow I will be recording some songs on SoundCloud. Wish me luck!

 

 

California Lavender

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I found this hue this morning lovely. It was an early morning crisp, a cool breath of air, under the greyish blue cloudless sky. Purple and grey go well together so I took a shot at it to try to capture the beauty I see before me.

It grows wild here on my commute to work, upon the hills, in many paths and crossways, including people’s yards if not tamed. They can grow like weeds.

I also love Lavender, there is so much one can do with lavender… lavender candles, soaps, scrubs, chocolates, even coffee I have just learned. Try a lavender latte. It’s so delicate.

It is all in the little things.

 

yours truly,

bluebird

 

p.s. I will be performing next wednesday at my local wine bar. Wish me luck!

 

 

“peace required”

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I saw this by happenstance today. I had gone to Los Angeles Union state to pick up my brother from the station and figured well, might as well say hello to the city. I had been wanting to see it. And one yes triggered another. It was rather serendipitous that way.

If it weren’t for the random parking space I found with so much space, where there was no parking space to be found whatsoever. I figured well, “none of these cars have parking permits and they seem okay, so I should be okay.” I said yes to the gut feeling and went ahead and parked there. As I was exiting I saw someone else had just parked there too and figured I would ask him if this parking area was safe.

Again, thinking how incredibly lucky to have found parking in the Arts District of Los Angeles. If it weren’t for the serendipitous parking spot, I would have never have asked the man in the parking lot if it was safe, and if I would never have asked, he never would have told me about the free art event going on in ArtSpace LA and if I didn’t know about ArtSpace through this stranger man in the parking space to tell me about the art event, I would never have come across this fine photograph.

It is because I said yes to the gut feeling.

I got to get used to hearing this gut feeling.

I got to trust it, it has not failed me so far.

 

Your truly,

bluebird

 

 

 

 

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I  have had such strange dreams lately. I dreamt that the garage was overflowing with water and the pressure of the water broke the seal of the garage door, and out came colorful fish, like a cracked fish tank about to break and release. I don’t know somehow this made sense.

Then I dreamt that my siblings and I were backing out of the drenched garage and out the driveway; and there they were, about 5 flopping colorful fish, twitching under our orange and lemon trees, trying to breathe. Strange, huh? I can’t help but feel that it means something.

I always have had very lucid dreams. I can fly in dreams and I have recently come to know that if I am terrified in a dream I can somehow escape and fly away. It’s rather cool, to be honest.

I have had very beautiful dreams of flying off of one red balloon. Others where I almost levitate and float, others where I run really fast and jump into the sky, but my favorite has been the one where I fly off on a paper box canoe over pyramids, and clouds, and into the crafty sun and sky, made out of pipe cleaners for rays, felt for sky, cotton balls for clouds, and beads for the sun.That dream was so surreal. I still can picture it.

I know why I dreamt that a long time ago. It was my subconscious telling me that I wanted to explore, learn, experience. Shortly after that dream I moved away to San Luis Obispo.

This dream however was just as impactful. Strange, but impactful. It is something to acknowledge. Especially after seeing a hawk land under the orange and lemon trees where the fish were, in real life, the same day. It flew in, right in front of the orange and lemon trees, staring at me, as big as it was, with  a wing span of a medium-sized dog, and  its prey, a pigeon, dead under its claws. It’s all so strange…

It’s a riddle I can’t solve.

yours truly,

Leah

Dream Journal

The Monarch Butterly

I saw a monarch butterfly on the gravel of a shooting range. It’s wings were broken and it lay there under a bed of rocks on a hot sunny day. It jolted and fretted every time the pistol went off. And when the gunshots rang they would break a hole on the surface of the air. I couldn’t help but worry for this tiny insect. So, I picked it up and carried it over to the quiet green shade far from the shooting range.

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Grandfather’s Clock Tower

Hello Ladies and gents,

I thought it fine time to do some revision on a very old poem. Any comments or thoughts are appreciated. Here goes nothing…

 

Grandfather’s clock,

from births hour,

sings tick-tock.

Tick-tock,

Tick-tock,

her heart beats

for Neverland.

Tick-Tock,

Tick-Tock,

strikes the third hour and

she dreams of flight,

and of life’s magical delights.

Tick-Tock,

Tick-Tock,

peter pan’s

crocodile,

she swallows an alarm clock,

and pauses time,

on lovers rhymes-

strikes the sixth hour.

Big-Ben’s Clock Tower

her rhythm, grows fonder

but Peter Pan’s pixie dust,

collects on grandfather’s

old tower clock-

strikes the 9th hour.

And on the 12th hour

Neverland, never comes

her heart beat stops

and the grandfather’s clock

gears, rust.

Much love, always.

 

your very own,

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

Bonjour mon Amour!

Bonjour mon Amour! I am feeling slightly romantic today. I love love and I am a sucker for romance and I feel romance in the air. I am currently listening to “La Vie En Rose,”and feel as if I am back in Paris, sitting in a cafe in Montmartre sipping on some coffee and writing like a true romantic.

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Dried roses, flowers, seashells, memorabilia, all time capsules buried under my bed.

I just come from traveling back in time to from my dusty journals buried underneath my bed. Man, have I always been without a doubt a hopeless romantic. I found letters, journal entries, and songs of love and despair. I collected words I’ve forgotten I once felt or ever thought to have once spoken. Among those is the following: a song of frustration written way back when I was about 19 years young and I couldn’t wait to spread my wings and fly. Here goes nothing…

I Am to Blame

I’ve got alot to gain

but my canvas is plain

and I have no color- no paint.

In the end, I am the one to blame.

I am still here, as I have been for years

I still remain the same

and all my falling tears have made things quiet clear

that I no longer steer

that role belongs to my fears

So I stand here in pain

I am growing insane

I am losing my aim

and losing at life’s game

I am living in vain

and I am the one to blame

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my aged journals collecting dust under my bed.

Perhaps, I’ll make it a song and sing it at my local wine bar one day. Perhaps, I am just dreaming. But what good are all these dreamings worth, if they can’t come true? Here is to happiness, to romance, to dreaming and may our dreams come true!

Cheers! Salute! Sante!

Yours truly,

bluebird