Distance and Time

 Distance and Time

 

Distance was something that never really bothered me. Distance, was a part of my life from birth – by the simple virtue that travel, to a greater than average extent, was a fundamental part of my DNA.

 

For as far back as I can remember, packing my bags, saying goodbye (or rather, see you later), moving homes and exploring the world solo came naturally to me. So natural that I would treat a move across the Atlantic as casually as going grocery shopping. I made a point of always seeing my family several times a year, and as much as I loved them, I never felt a great sense of loss, guilt or even yearning to stop me from creating such distance between us. As far as I was concerned, it was the premise of our family to be cosmopolitan globe trotters who seamlessly remained close whilst being geographically apart. If anything, our handling of distance and the effort we made to meet with each other around the globe was our identity. Or, at least this is what I thought for most of my youth and young adult life – but, it seems, time changes everything.

 

I didn’t want to stay still, at my first opportunity at 18 years old, after having spent my entire childhood and teenage years travelling the world with my parents and brother, I paved the way to what I believed would be the life of an expeditionist, off to live in New York I went, then to live in Australia, then to live in London, then to live in Paris and back to Australia again – and countless exotic far flung countries and continents that I visited and explored in between. Anywhere but the house I grew up in. I genuinely believed that living in India for the first 4 years of my life gave me an inbuilt spiritual vegabond compass; and for many years- that seemed to be case. I didn’t know the meaning of the words “ home sick.”

 

Yet here I am, in transit, a place and action that has always been so familiar – feeling a great sense of loss after having seen my family for the first time in two years (covid). I look around the house I grew up in and have to hold back the tears as I feel the ghosts and memories of every room, the passing of time, time that I had previously taken so horribly for granted, in favour of distance and exploration -  now, I can see the 6 year old version of myself peddling her new bicycle through the hallway with my brother and cat Douglas as I stand on the same marble floor I did in 1990. Maybe this happens to all of us as we get older, or perhaps the pandemic has made sentimental homebodies of people who were once free spirits. I find myself nostalgic about past homes, and only now, realise what they meant to me – even though I was once so quick to pack up and leave them. They are the ghosts, the memories, the time that has passed and I cannot get back.

Am I alone in feeling this way? I’m not sure. I find myself bound in a tug of war between childhood and adulthood at almost 35 years old. The child in me still wants to hop around the world. The adult in me want to take any opportunity to see my mum and be in the home that holds so much of our combined family past.

 

Perhaps I am the epitome of “you don’t miss the water until it’s gone.” It was only when my childhood home and family were no longer available to me (covid), that I realised how much they actually meant to me . 

 

The pandemic, if nothing else, has offered perspective. 

She Writes

 

She Writes - Beat Poetry/Spoken Word - * to be performed/read aloud *

She writes, she still writes.

She writes when the silence is deafeningly loud, when she has no words, no strength, no smile to show any crowd.

She still writes.

She writes when the barriers are in place, when she is the alien, is the individual, is the thinker, and losing an invisible race.

She still writes.

She writes about years gone by, about lustful love, about life, about countries far and wide, about passion intwined and the memory so vivid, she doesn't know why. 

She still writes.

She writes about deep thought, about limitless advice, about contemplation,  philosophy, a morality in innocent and guilty device.

She still writes.

She still writes when the ink colour is dull, when the pages turn backwards, when the chapters don't change, she still writes in darkness, in a lull. 

She writes even though the memory of herself is fading, is attacked, is misconstrued, is conflicted - but it is a memory worth saving.

She still writes. She still writes to sting the surrender, she still writes to continue and endeavour, she still writes to win a battle, to be herself, her light, her rattle.

So, she still writes. 

No Art

 No Art

What a year that it is has been.

Two-thousand and twenty has left the world a little bit mean.

Not bright, not taking flight, no end in in sight, or anything in-between.

Brush strokes are exchanged for check out counters.

A ballerina's dance demeaned for zoom meeting banter. 

Strumming guitars and festival fantasy retired to a slow virtual canter. 

Shakespearian theatre now nothing more than a mad ranter. 

A life dulled without the arts, the natural enchanter. 

What use is the arts?

What purpose, what practical, what smarts?

What use, what essential.... but what about our hearts?

This is where..the arts...they stand apart. 

A rabbit hole of  colour, words, movement and song,

A whimsical escape of performance and presence, one that may be lost before long,

Art is unessential? I am afraid that you are wrong.

The undisputed catalyst for a thriving mind,

The imagination that equates to all movements great and kind,

We don't dare leave the seed of creative genius so far behind, 

A sadness that would leave the entirety of humanity newly blind.

The arts are our depth when the the earth is hollow, 

Our escape from the growing shallow, darkness and sorrow, 

A service that we cannot just simply borrow,

One that needs be here, yesterday, today and tomorrow. 

 

 

No Colour

No Colour

I grew up not seeing or knowing colour. Not the colours of paintings, the sky or lipstick. The colour of people. I was lucky.

My father is brown and my mother is white. I am somewhere in between, to the naked eye, caucasian.

I was born into a culture of every ethnicity, every religion and every culture. My friends have always been a rainbow of Far East Asian decent, South East Asian decent, African decent, European decent, American decent, Middle Eastern decent, Caribbean decent and the Pacific Australias.

I never saw any difference, I saw skin colour as no different to hair or eye colour. It's the way you look but it means nothing, we are all the same. There was no black, brown, yellow, olive or white.

I was lucky. I was surrounded by every colour of person in the spectrum, and what a beautiful, happy harmonious life we led together.

I grew up in a mainly privileged "brown" society and integrated first in India, in an American Diplomat School and then in Bahrain in an international British School. My father worked for the airlines so my early life was spent in a couple of different countries in Asia and Europe before my adult schooling began. My friends were the children of diplomats, military and airline people. They came from far and wide and all intermittently settled in foreign "exotic" countries. I have old photographs from the late 1980s-early 1990s from tea parties that I have never looked twice at, despite every child in the photo being a completely different race.

I was lucky.

I knew of racism. I studied black civil rights history in school, I was both disgusted by what had happened and proud of those who stood up for themselves. I just looked around me and didn't see it. I couldn't understand how anybody could choose their friends based on the colour of their skin. Especially when I watched girls pour bottles of Coca Cola all over themselves every summer in order to obtain the deepest tan. (Yes, that was thing).

I liked everyone. Nobody taught me to like everyone. I just did. Much like my brother and as far as I could tell, my parents. My friends didn't look like me, and that didn't make any difference. I spoke to all adults with respect and wasn't "afraid" of anyone.

We traveled a lot. Through the UK, Europe, Asia and America. Australia. I didn't see it. I didn't see a problem...because I didn't see colour. In my eyes, everyone was fair game, and looking back now I can see why some people thought my over friendly behaviour was so endearing. This is up until I was 17, and had my first real boyfriend, he was South African.

My appearance of a blonde, green eyed teenager would fool most into believing I could be completely European. So that's exactly what my then boyfriend told his Africaans parents. That I was half Welsh, half Italian. Which would be true, if I was my mother. His parents eventually confronted me about my ethnic background whilst breaking the car in the middle of the highway. It didn't go down well.

And then I was 18, I was freshly an adult. I had always loved New York and couldn't wait to start the first chapter of my grown up life in the city that never sleeps. I had a childhood friend living there already - not that it ever mattered before, but she was of mixed Middle Eastern/Korean decent, though she had mostly Asian features and a more exotic skin tone. In my eyes- drop dead gorgeous.

I lived in midtown, which was a hotch-potch of races, sexual preferences and all in all a pretty exciting place to be. I started my New York journey going out a lot with my friend in places of her choosing - which was my second taste of subtle racism.

K-town, aka Korea Town. An Area of New York much like China Town, but for Koreans. My friend took me often. I didn't realise I was going to be the only non Korean there. I had never seen this kind of segregation before in my life. And then it dawned on me, "they don't want me here, everyone is staring at me."

I started noticing things more in New York. I started seeing colour. Black people only hung out with black people, Latinos with Latinos, South East Asians only hung out with South East Asians, East Asians only hung out with East Asians, Northern Europeans only hung out with Northern Europeans, Eastern Europeans only hung out with Eastern Europeans.

The whole thing perplexed me, but I noted, the more educated youth, university students and investment bankers alike - didn't seem to follow the same pattern. So what, are smart people are less racist?

Are smart people less racist?

Probably.

Without trying to sound arrogant or conceited - I am pretty smart, and over all, well educated with a well rounded scope of knowledge.  Most of the people I grew up surrounded by were similar. Brighter than your average. But, that was just normal for us.

So, how does that impact the ability to refrain from filtering people based on the colour of their skin? Is it the intrinsic scientific knowledge that we as humans are, literally, all the same and our skin colour and physical features are nothing more than an evolution based mutation created to survive in different environments and climates? Kind of like short-hair and long-hair dogs/cats.

Is it also my scientific understanding that a non-pedigree species are stronger than a pedigree species in order to produce a stronger, smarter offspring? I.e. Mixing races is good.

But that knowledge and scientific fact seems lost on so many. As the years have gone on I've noted racism to become more prevalent in certain places. In London for example, I hardly noticed it. Races and ethnicities all seemed to mix beautifully and harmoniously. In Australia, racism runs deep. I don't mean just about aboriginals, but with literally anyone who isn't Saxon white, and vice versa, everybody chooses not to mix with each other. This is an incredibly segregated country that is multi cultured into a pie chart of separation - creating poor class structures and a lack of progression, evolution and education- all of which is totally accepted as a part of the culture. The US has a violent racism based on white supremacy, black suppression and Middle Eastern hatred. When I was 28, I was offloaded from a flight from London to LA. Based on my Middle Eastern last name. Everybody was seated, and airport security came to my seat, removed me from my seat - with no explanation - walked me off the plane to do one more security screening before the plane took off. They looked "confused", when they saw my appearance. When I got back on the plane, they had given my seat to somebody else, so they had full intentions of removing me from the flight, based on the origin of my last name.

Everyday I wish I could turn back the clock to not seeing colour. Or, I wish the rest of the world had been as lucky as I have been to be exposed to so many different types of people from such an early age so that colour would be invisible to them too. But now I realise how lucky I have been, and I can only teach what I know to others who choose ignorance above knowledge, knowledge will trump all.

See no colour.

Woman - Beat Poetry

Woman

Woman she purred. Her hands run up and down her cola bottle streamline.

Lick your lips, pout in the midst of a corner, in a light, in a reflection sending tingles down her spine.

Oh but don’t speak, oh but don’t write, lick your lips, in a corner, under the dim lights.

Woman she purred. Her hands raising above her head, back down to her desk.

Read your books, learn to cook, smile and nod, imprisoned by the ceiling above her head.

Oh but don’t ask, oh but don’t know, lick your lips, in a corner, in the dark.

Woman she purred. Her hands bound and cuffed behind her back,

Stay right there, wait your turn, in ropes and in chains, bleeding with no gain.

Oh but don’t cry, oh but don’t fight, lick your lips, in a corner, in the invisible sky.

Woman she purred. Her hands lay flat upon her pout, sending tingles down his spine.

Cola bottle streamline, smile and nod, wait your turn in a perfect world.

Oh but don’t try, lick your lips, in a corner, until  you die. 

An Insight into Instincts – The Forensics of Fate

An Insight into Instincts – The Forensics of Fate

You could argue that I'm not as dedicated to this blog as I once was.

Practically, you would probably win that argument. Theoretically, you probably wouldn't.

At this moment bluebird is sitting in a place I once used to call my nest (home, if you're not up on my over use of metaphors). The island of Manhattan, New York City. A place that I hung my hat eleven years ago - and it does feel like eleven years ago. 

This is the first day that I've had to myself in weeks, and I thought it would only be appropriate to pull out my laptop and start typing with all the other pretentious coffee-drinking- self-indulgent writers in this midtown coffee house. (Just to be clear, I'm drinking green tea).

Scene set? I hope so. Use your imagination if my words fail you.

Brushing my fringe off of my giraffe like eyelashes (that never get me out of trouble, despite relentless batting), staring intently at this screen -  I've decided to stop apologizing for my late, delayed and otherwise non-existent articles. 

My dedication to my art is now a well thought-out process as oppose to impulsive, indulgent rants. Meaningful as oppose to passive-aggressive or subliminal attacks/judgments. Thus, if anything - I'm putting more into this than I ever have before; a truer, less contrived version. 

That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Maybe it's age, maybe it's experience, maybe it's balanced hormones. Whatever it is - I promise to provide you with writing well worth the wait.

SEGWAY - so, here we are, if you're still reading.

Have you ever thought about fate? Not faith, fate. That unrecognizable thing that is just going to happen to you no matter how hard you try to change or avoid it. Otherwise known as the opposite of control.

You can be the most organized, control-centric, informed, decisive, well balanced person on the planet; but despite all of these fork in the road decision making tactics - you still, really, don't know what the road ahead has in store for you.

Why do you meet the people you meet? Why do you end up in the work you end up in? Why do you make the decisions you do? Is it because of the way you paved your life out or would this all have happened in one way or another with or without your life plan firmly set in place.

Logically, we can come to the safe assumption that all things are a product of your path (where and if you went to University, which job interview you went to, which job you accepted, what clubs you attend, sports that you play, hobbies that you pursue, who you ask out on dates, who you say yes to) . But, what happens when no matter how much you alter your path, certain elements continue to re-appear on your route like a de-ja-vu.

Is that fate?

Is that one thing that keeps reliving through the years the same thing that life wants you to have so intently that it finds a way to give you a 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th to infinity chance of catching it and not letting go.

We don't know why, but it's very probable that we make a subconscious decision to keep inviting that one thing back into our story; whether it fits or not. This could primarily be because as animals we are instinctive, but as highly evolved animals - we have learned to think more objectively and ignore our instincts. Our instincts would tell us to grab an opportunity at the first instance. Whether it be a special person, a job, a decision, an opportunity or a change. What happens when we ignore our instincts? 

We shelf. 

When we shelf, are we indecisive? Or are we fearful? Over-whelming evidence (me - listening, watching, analyzing)  suggests that the more highly evolved the person, the more fundamentally "intelligent", the more emotionally "aware" person, is the same person who is more likely to shelf. A person less inclined to analyze scenarios adapts a primal nature to just follow instincts, much like many other animals on the planet - simply narrowing options down to "yes" or "no".

Que, fate.

Fate, by this thought process, is actually more planned than a leap of faith or universal coincidence.

By shelfing, we put options behind us that we can continuously revisit. Therefore, carving out a future that includes things that on face value appear to have been rejected. So when we shelf, is it because we constantly want something more? Are in search of something better? Or do we fundamentally know that these things are right for us, and that we will come back to them, whether we want to or not? Our brains are telling us to reject, our instincts are telling us to pursue and the rest is left up to circumstance and heart.

Counter-acting that; those who follow their instincts are neither more inclined to succumb to their fait, but rather; rush into decision making. Therefore, creating complications and conflict with what could potentially be a very different future. 

So, what is the answer? Which way is the right way to do it it?

There is no right way. It's fate, it's going to happen whether you like it or not. There might be very different types of people, very different types of decision making processes - however, I think it's extremely important that we take note of certain patterns that develop in our lives. Life is throwing you curve balls and it's up to you whether you want to play or not. How quickly you get to where you are supposed to be is based on your own observation skills. Don't be the fool who jumps at chance number 10, get in early, get in and enjoy it for the rest of your life. Notice co incidence,  NOTICE. Look around you, because one day, those things could be your future. A happy future, the right future. 

Fate may have it, but it's up to you to see it. 

Bluebirds Birthday

Bluebirds Birthday 

"It's that time of year again", I tell myself - cushioned in a mountain of pillows in a pitch black room with only the light from this post gleaming on my face. 

In just over a day, I will be another year older. This blog will be almost 4 years old. Flicking on the "back" arrow of this now, heavily outdated web page; I ask myself how much I recognize and relate to my words from years gone by. 

I am still "The Bluebird". And boy, has this bluebird been through a lot since it took flight. Success, failure, illness, health, evolution, devolution, good decisions, bad decisions, moving, settling, moving again and everything in between. 

Fundamentally, deep in my inner most core- I don't actually think I've changed. At all. 

Maybe I'm a little less confident, a little less cocky and I've made a few minor adjustments based on caution; trial and error. But the soul inside this bruised body has not much changed. I am still an adventure seeking, fiercely independent spirit with a bug for thrills, travel, intellect and art. I still hold on tight to the idea of romance and love in its truest embodiment adjoining with a passion for lust, spontaneous moments and the journey that life is.  

I'm not sad. I'm reflective. Reflective of the people that came in and out of my life; and left pieces behind. I'm reflective of take offs, landings, sun, snow and cities. Reflective of late nights, early mornings and long afternoons. Reflective of the moments of celebration and the moments of remorse. 

Yes, sometimes - I really do feel alone. Alone in my thoughts, in my desires and even in the literal physical. I used to be afraid to admit to that. But, now I accept it - I accept that it's okay and that it might not change. 

So, on the brink of my 29th Birthday. Yes, I do recognize the words of that 25 year old. Yes, I feel every memory like it were earlier today. No, I don't regret a thing - not even the mistakes. I want you to know that it's okay. We are all different. You don't need to be understood and there is no prerequisite on what direction to take next. The road I will take will be the one that feels right, in that moment. Where it will lead is anyone's guess - but I'm ready, I always am. I have been blessed, I have been cursed - but I have LIVED, I have lived more lives, more feelings and more adventures than some people thrice my age. And that is the greatest gift that I could ever ask for. 

The good, the bad, the in between. It will all be worth it, one day. State the obvious-  but fly Bluebird, fly. 

A Living Long Lost Letter

                                       

A series of events have led to the release of this letter.

To those of you that follow my scribing, you'll be fully aware that you can expect anything and predict nothing with every new post.

To those of you whom are new, hello. 

I have described myself as a poet.

Sometimes, a philosopher.

Begrudgingly, a preacher.

and...unwittingly, an analytical writer with a filthy sense of humor.

The Blue Bird, as you know me - is always full of advice and rhythmic power phrasing. 

Often, it's quite obvious that my subject matters play on personal experience. 

This doesn't differ to any other art. Most great works are created by means of innocence, experience, hardship, successes and failures. 

And those that don't - are unapologetically forgettable.

For this reason- it is understandable that you, my dear reader, may think that you know me.

To an extent, this is true. But, much like any other human being,what you think you know is quite superficial.

I have all the answers, I'm good at everything, I have a firm grasp on life and perspective, I work hard and I care about people.

These are all wonderful, fulfilling things to be associated with.

But realistically -  It flows a little more like this:

I have all the answers; because I never stop thinking. I'm good at everything, because I'd rather master everything then focus and commit to just one thing. I have a firm grasp on life and perspective but despite my efforts it rarely goes in the direction I would like it to. I work hard but often with no reward in the foreseeable future. I care about people -but sometimes, too much.

I'm not a genius. I get it wrong, a lot.

Apparently, this is what being an "artist" is all about.

To have a beautiful mind, hear beautiful things, write beautiful words, create beautiful masterpieces and speak beautiful tones.

But all with a dash of pain.

Without the pain, there is no art.

Only empty creation.

Here is my letter.

To those of you who take the time to read,

When you feel your hidden heart begin to bleed,

Remember that this is the pain that you need,

To make something beautiful, and plant the seed. 

We have our skeleton secrets,

Buried in a grave that we consider the deepest,

They only devour us when we are at our weakest,

And blossom a masterpiece, wiping our souls to their cleanest.

I wish I could have written it better,

These are the words of a long lost living letter. 

The Twisted Truth about Honesty

Oh,  I know what you're thinking. 

"What a contradictory title, she must think she's really clever."

Fear not - readers, stalkers, ex boyfriends, ex boyfriends new girlfriends, friends, family, random followers, perverts, internet trollers; all of your assumptions and questions are here to be answered and elaborated. 

To begin, the title of this blog is not a contradiction, but rather a subject. 

The twisted truth about honesty. "You can't handle the truth", yet "honesty is the best policy". Through time we have been thrown opposing sentiments on how to best address such a temperamental action and reaction. Every religious chapter and verse preaches the importance of honesty and morality. Without getting too controversial, I think we can all safely agree that followers of all religions tend to slip up on that fundamental value more often than not. It's not just religion, it's culture, it's manners.

Or is it?

By definition, the truth symbolizes actuality. The state of a subject as is; without distortion or further outward interpretation of any kind. In other words, a fact. 

Honesty, differs. Honesty is often used as a verb to describe the action of being honest with ones self or a receiver of said honesty. 

Simple. 

So, why is it so hard for us to be entirely truthful and honest with each other?

A common misconception is "what they don't know will not hurt them." I can speak for most people when I say, what we don't know will hurt us. It is exactly that insecurity that surrounds the mystery of secrets and apparent dishonesty that diminishes most relationships, friendships, businesses and even ones relationship with themselves. 

Our excuse, to which most of us are guilty to at least once in our lives - is that we don't want to hurt anybody. And the truth can be hurtful. Yet we still demand honesty from those around us. 

Double edged sword. But, had we been truthful and honest from the get go - we could have avoided hurt all together. Alternatively, the truth might be frightening to tell - even if it has positive connotations. So basically, we are cowards.

Fear of reaction and consequence is the catalyst that can lead to twisting, embellishing, hiding and sugar coating truths - separating them from the now hidden fact they once started as. Unfortunately, this same action will almost always deliver an identical result with the only differential point being that it draws out the process longer. Ultimately, we end up hurting each other more by not being honest. With some truths - even positive ones, we may fall into a lingo of "never knowing", unknowing of which direction the reaction may go. Instead we choose  to live a lie in order protect our own feelings. 

 That makes us selfish. 

Before we all start brutally throwing home truths at each other, it's important to note that being truthful is not the same thing as being blunt, or for lack of a better word, mean. Painfully blunt individuals use truth based on their own opinion as a method of self promotion and as an otherwise diluted bullying tactic. Being honest is not about having an inherent superiority complex with the purpose of being belittling, patronizing or over all insensitive. 

That is why we have to pick our truths carefully. Not every situation is owed honesty or action. This is why honesty, when used correctly; is so valuable. 

Honesty is used when you are ready to be truthful with yourself and any other party involved. If it is not crucial to the wellbeing of the recipient that they know the truth, then leave it be. The truth you tell is not based on opinion, remember, it is actuality. It is exactly as is - without any twisting. Being upfront for whatever reason is a somewhat horrifying, nerve wracking difficult task. You do not know what you may lose or gain as a result. What you will almost always gain, is respect. A recipient will respect your courage to be honest with them as an indicator that you do care about them and their future. However negative or positive the news might be, it will inevitably be beneficial. You may not feel great after, or  alternatively you may feel wonderful, relieved even - but try to understand it's the best thing for you as well.

Always be honest. We aren't mind readers and people only like good surprises. Do not be afraid. You could make someones day or you could break someones day - but either way; you will make someones life happier, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. 

my last sentiment

"If you don't lie, you never have to remember anything."

and remember, if you love them, tell them.

Happier, Healthier, Heartier : The Truth About Getting Older

They always say you grow wiser with age - most of the time to lighten the blow of yet another passing year and maybe a few fresh wrinkles.

If you had asked me 10 years ago - at the tender age of 18, where I would be and what I would be doing on my 28th birthday it probably wouldn't nearly resemble the reality of what has just passed.

That isn't a negative sentiment. Things do not always go to plan and most of the time - with growth, our opinions of what we want out of life change. It's what we learn from experience, and if we don't learn; well - we haven't really lived.

So on the back of that thought - aging is not something to be afraid of rather than something to look forward to. It means we are, hopefully moving forward with ourselves and collecting stories that make up the chapters of our lives. We evolve and deal with problems in a more positive light, because without positivity we don't have anything. 

I can aptly say that I am the happiest and healthiest I have ever been - not without obstacles to get me to this point. So maybe I have become more wise with age, learning to apply negativity to creating something positive and proactive. To no longer obsesses over things that cannot be, and to be fair and logical to those around me. To be mindful of my health. To know myself and be okay with it. A more interesting person than the girl from 10 years ago. 

That's my birthday message to you. Bring on the years and all the life, surprises and lessons they have to offer. They will make you a better person. 

Rose Tinted Glasses: How to live Romantically - Realistically.

Rose Tinted Glasses: How to live Romantically - Realistically. 

Romanticism and realism in one sentence - it sounds like one ridiculous contradiction. 

Romanticism isn't just something for  the people lucky enough to fall madly, deeply in love with each other- it is a concept of how to love life even with it's great obstacles, negativities and cynicism's. 

Ever listened to a Jack Johnson song? Suggest if you haven't got at least one on your itunes; take a trip over to youtube and find yourself one to listen to right after you read this. If that doesn't suit you; The Beatles - "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds", "Norwegian Wood", The La's "There she goes" or; if those still doesn't tickle your fancy - last but not least, early Frank Sinatra and Tommy Dorsey Orchestras "I'll be seeing you". But honestly, keep it simple. Jack Johnson has the answers.

Rose Tinted Glasses; a phrase pinned on the back of 1960s revolutionary hippie "lovalution". Mostly because people did in fact, literally wear rose tinted sunglasses. At the time, a cloud of drugs and free-love. Understandably, we can't exactly call a life of living in a complete "ignorance is bliss, make love man" state of mind - realistic. So, lets take the rose tint to a more practical, reasonable way of day-to-day functioning. Not to mention; attempting to recreate a bygone era - no matter how hard you try, is contrived. 

There are many reasons to look at this world with a cold, heavy exterior. And whether most people know it or not - most people do. We live in a time where relationships (love and otherwise) are considered commodities, breakable and replaceable. An entire generation of people who, add, approve, like other people based on an online appearance and presence - whether it be hand held, laptop or desk top. For every one person - there are twenty others to turn to in their absence. Loyalty is hard to find as there is a fine line between what is ethical and and what isn't. Work hours get longer, true - love becomes rare and being honest, open and kind is considered a weakness.

So really, what is there to be romantic about?

Well, you don't, we don't, have to be that way. Ever just think; "no"? "I refuse". "I will not lose the fundamental qualities that make me human - I will not devolve." 

When we wake up in the morning. Wake up, for one - remember how lucky we are just to be breathing. Then, instead of turning to your phone to check any one of your various social media feeds; call the first person you thought about when you woke up. Say good morning, tell them you were thinking of them. How will it hurt you? It won't. If you have someone in bed next to you - hold them, kiss them, make them breakfast. When you get to work everyday. Say hello to everyone. Smile, even on a bad day; life isn't that bad. When you walk down the street; look up, look around you. Notice things; take photographs with your mind. 

On the weekend; it's ok to miss a day at the gym. Spend that time with someone you care about. The gym is always going to be there. The people may not. Tell them everything you're thinking. Let your guard down, why do you need a shield? What are you protecting yourself from? Do not push good people away. 

Spend time outdoors; whenever you can. Connect with nature. As sexy and moody as it can be to be in a club. It's smoke and mirrors. You want to feel the clear light of day and what we were put on this earth to experience. Develop a relationship with the earth and you will respect it and appreciate it for everything is has to offer. Don't be pretentious about it. Take care of the earth and the earth will take care of you. 

Learn to live a lifestyle totally non reliant on anything. Realistically, money is required to live in this day and age. But do not let money dictate your worth, behavior or the people you attract. It could all be gone tomorrow. Do not spend time with people because of their clothes, looks or belongings. Spend time with people based on how they make you feel. Learn to feel again. It is hard to feel when we live in a culture that is hell-bent on creating technological distances between us. Take risks. They may not work; but you tried. It's better than playing it safe and never knowing. And hey, it's 50/50. It may work out perfectly. Nothing is impossible. You want your dream job? You want to make a difference to the world? You want to invent something? Why can't you do it...throughout history and present time people are doing those things; as I type. So do it. BE SPONTANEOUS. You want Love? Start living Love. 

There is no cookie-cut rule book, "how to" live life romantically. But it is quite simple. Simplify yourself. Find happiness, joy and warmth from attainable actions, emotions and people. Once you start doing that..you'll notice a rose tinted glaze over a world that yes, in many ways has been tainted - environmentally, politically and within humanity. But for all the negatives, there are small pockets of romance; and they are all within you.

"Peace and Love" starting with you. 

Bluebird is Back

The Bluebird is Back

It has been well over a year since my last entry - I offer you no explanation; but I will give you this.

I was a hatchling of twenty-six, sidetracking life and my own advice.

Now a bird, nearly twenty-eight, I have taken flight, not once - but twice.

Building a nest - it took some time,

Even when I knew it would never truly be mine.

My body broken and my mind a little bruised,

But in that process I learned more about love, and I was amused.

So I shed all of my feathers,

And here I am, ready to share with you through the good and the bad weather.