Time Waits For No One
I’m not a religious person, yet I’ve always curiously gravitated towards peaceful spiritual traditions from the far east. I aim to be a minimalist who lives with very few material possessions to my name. It is not out of a dislike for the good things in life, but out of a love for the simplicity of having little, in a world where we are constantly encouraged to consume and buy things as status symbols. I believe happiness can be found in alternate ways of living. Nature is beautiful. Time is the new money. The more time you have, the more you are free.
The Fire
Fire is mesmerizing, isn’t it? It’s like watching a stranger dance with different partners ever so fierce and gracefully. It’s beautiful but dangerous. Alluring yet unpredictable and aloof. I stand very still, completely seduced, staring in submissive awe.
The Escape
When I was a little girl, I used to dream of joining the circus. It was my way of imagining an escape from all the madness of the stressful, monotonous, grown-up world. Funny, now that I’m an adult, I still wish to run away with the carnival & I do it almost every weekend. Fire, costumes, swings, painted performers making odd contortions with their bodies, hanging upside down like bats. Fairy lights in the garden guide our way to this magical playground of visually intoxicating danger & fun, the flames close enough to make my face hot, with the smell of fuel & the sounds of whoosh. White silks flowing with the wind, appearing as ghostly angels dancing in trees. Why would I ever want to grow up now? I’m happy right here in this place some would call strange, I call home.
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The Violin
The Violin
I had never been into classical music. Certainly not the violin. I practically tormented my neighbors by cranking up AC/DC each time their kids were practicing. It sounded awful to me. Like an animal shrieking while being dragged under a car. Yet, on this warm California evening, all of that changed. As we were sitting there on the floor of a peaceful, candle-lit living room at 3am, Lili Haydn began playing the violin with such intense passion, uncontrollable tears began to roll down my cheeks. I had no explanation for this, except that she’s an extremely sincere, emotional performer. I felt every moment of pain and heartache with each stroke of her bow and sounds of her beautiful singing breath. She later explained to me what that piece meant to her. Her past history of some very dark, tragic, personal moments equivalent to so many of our own. This is what I felt. Without words, I knew we shared something. Survivors of childhood atrocities and years of mental anguish kept locked away in a secure vault. No one had ever revealed that vulnerable part of me before. Surely not a violinist. This was the removal of a barrier, and opening of a whole new door. Much to my pleasure, a new chapter in my journey of music and understandings of the heart. A willingness to give this classical instrument another try, with a different forgiveness, respect, and perspective. Thank you, Lili. (You may view some of the video here) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yO84p7q85JQ
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The Burial
We came upon a graveyard of stone hearts. Someone had collected them and placed them all together, as if they’d be less lonely that way. They were one of the few things which survived the destruction of this fire. Not even the anchor held. It was left without roots, rotted by rust and time. 
Ironic really, that in the end the heart’s all you have left. The toughest thing which survived all.
The Light
For so many years I’ve been surrounded by seriously some of the best artists & photographers in the world. I had never been interested to even pay attention. I had no interest in going to galleries or art openings, etc. Then, suddenly about six months ago, I’m obsessed with art. Out of nowhere. It possesses my mind, my sleep, my waking hours. Where in the hell did this come from? I’ve always been a music lover. Traveler. Extremely fortunate in having the most talented friends to watch and listen to. Suddenly I feel the need and desire to explore, create and consume as much art as possible.
The Darkness
The Dark Night of the Soul.
La Noche Oscura del Alma.
To let go of one’s ego, as it holds back the psyche,
Thus making room for some form of transformation.
Once in the dark of night,
Inflamed with love and wanting, I arose
And went, as no one knows,
When all my house lay long in deep repose
All in the dark went right,
Up secret steps, disguised in other clothes,
In dark when no one knows,
When all the house lay long in deep repose.
And in the luck of night
In secret places where no other spied
I went without my sight
Without a light to guide
Except the heart which lit me from inside.
It guided me and shone
Surer than morning sunlight over me,
And lead me to the one
Whom only I could see
Deep in a place where only we would be.
Lovers moved in unison
And on my flowering breast
Which I had kept for him and him alone
He slept as I caressed
And loved him for my own,
Breathing from redolent sea air blown.
And from the peeling painted wall
The wind came down to winnow through his hair
Bidding his fingers fall,
Searing my throat with air
All my senses were suspended there.
I stayed there to forget.
There on my lover, face to face, I lay.
All ended, and I let
My cares all fall away
Forgotten in the sheets on that day.
La Noche Oscura del Alma. The Dark Night of The Soul.
The Vampire
The Vampire
I found myself unwantedly attracted to him
The same way curiosity attracts one to
Dangerous things
The cat which wants to jump across two buildings
But is not exactly certain
Of the depth or the fall
I know he’s not good for me
Not at all
He even warned me of this in the first place
As if he knew what I was thinking
I shall meet the devil in private
Without anesthesia
Pay for my sins later
This I kept telling myself
Avoid any stare
Then like a story – here he was
Sitting. Patiently. Waiting.
Wondering what my next move would be
Like an organized game of chess
He handled my body like it was his first guitar
I expected nothing less
His strong hands caressing every curve
From my neck to my ankles and back again
Somehow I knew he would be a great lover
Somehow I drifted into a dangerously reckless
Year long adventure
With a Flamenco Vampire
In the ghetto by the sea
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Adventures of Jaqueline 