Musings of a Butterfly

All my life I have been forced to be silent. Staying silent starting at age five as my body was used for the sexual pleasure of a grown man. He was my own father. He told me that if I ever told anyone then my mum would go away and never come back and that he would go away and never come back and that I would be left all alone and that it would be my fault. Terrified, I kept quiet. I was responsible to keep the family together, he told me. He said that all fathers have to teach their daughters how to be good wives when they grow up otherwise they would never find husbands to love them and stay with them, but nobody talked about it because it was a secret. A five-year-old listens to whatever their parents tell them, because their parents are God at that age. And so the years passed. A little girl, constantly being silenced into submission and secrecy, so that he could keep using me for his pleasure. Over the next year, I believed everything he said.   I didn’t know anything else. U...

I used to feel that Paris was my favorite city in Europe but now that I have been in Lisbon for a few years I realize that was but a fleeting fancy. There are so many reasons to love a city and reasons cities attach themselves to your heart. I grew up in London and lived in San Francisco. I loved these cities too, but there is something different about Lisbon. I didn't know how attached I had become until I went back to San Francisco last year for a month and when the plane landed back in Lisbon after that trip I felt something. I was happy to see it. I had missed this beautiful flower of a city with it's calçada Portuguesa sidewalks, and that something about the way the light hits the buildings at sunset. Most times when you land at Lisbon Airport  the plane circles around over the ocean at the mouth of the Tagus River and you get a beautiful view of the city, the Pont d'Abril bridge and the mini Christo Rey watching it all from the other side, looking out at ...

Mum and Dad came to drop me off at SFO. Twenty-five years ago I came to Cali, not being fully aware at that time that I had come to forgive. To lay to rest the ghosts and repair the damage that had been done by my father's abuse, and that my hatred for him and what he had done was creeping into the pores of my skin everyday and not allowing me to feel. There were still nightmares. There was still pain. Mahatma Gandhi said "Forgiveness is an attribute of the strong...the weak can never forgive". I had decided to try forgiveness. It wasn't easy. I hadn't had any guidance. Hurt and pain is what shaped me into a young woman. I just got through those times as best as I could. I slept with a lot of boys. And then men. I slept with them and they had no faces and I felt nothing most of the time. I don't know if it was a misguided attempt at feeling loved. Perhaps it was, looking back now. My father, telling me from an early age, that I had to learn how to ...

The rains have started here in Portugal . It's funny, when I first moved here two years ago, all I kept reading about was how good the weather was and how much the sun shines here. Once the rains start it just gets damp, humid and grey and it rains for days at a time. Most apartments don't have central heating or very good insulation, so it is always cold. Last year my clothes got mouldy in the closet from the damp humidity. I am dreading the upcoming winter and I have a strong urge to run away to somewhere warm, where my bones don't feel cold.

 Ungrounded, unfounded. Tumbling, falling sensation.  Dizziness, as the body sways I feel like I am on a boat. On a path of self destruction. Just need some earth Upon which to stomp my feet To shout out to the Universe That I have arrived. And I am staying. Not going anywhere, but here at this moment. So stop with your torment. Leave me alone. Sweet escape is sometimes the spiral, Taking you downward Spinning, spinning, a vortex out of control. Round and around, arms flailing, crying out Pull me out, pull me out, I'm drowning It's easy to blame someone else Until you realize you're the only one with the power To pull yourself out of your own deep, dark, internal hell.

I am not feeling grounded. I don't know what I need to do in order to feel ok. I twisted my knee one week after arriving in Lisbon and it was quite painful and debilitating, stopping me from exploring the city as I wanted to, because the hills are so steep and so I had to rest, but didn't. Drinking excessively seemed like a good idea as I managed the pain that way. And drinks are so cheap here in Lisbon it always seems to be a good option. I spent loads of time at Le Marais, a wine bar owned by a French gay man a stones throw from my new apartment and got to know many people. Trouble was, the place was on my way home from work so I would stop in with the intention of having one glass of wine, which inevitably turned into not leaving to go home to an empty apartment until I was completely inebriated. There was a loneliness gripping my soul. I would go home and look out my window at the beautiful red rooftops and miss my kids, and miss San Francisco and the community of friends...

“ Drinking is an emotional thing. It joggles you out of the standardism of everyday life, out of everything being the same. It yanks you out of your body and your mind and throws you against the wall. I have the feeling that drinking is a form of suicide where you're allowed to return to life and begin all over the next day. It's like killing yourself, and then you're reborn. I guess I've lived about ten or fifteen thousand lives now.” Charles Bukowski said that. Let's see. I haven't written in a while. I have completely changed my life in the past few months. A mother, a daughter, a sister, a real estate agent. I had all these labels pinned to me that I didn't want. I felt apathy. I felt disconnection. I didn't want any of it. I don't really know how the course of your life changes completely...if it's just destiny or if it's something that, deep down inside you know that you have control over, just by putting out into the Universe...

Afternoon Mimosas. Deep ambient rhythm on the Bose Ran out of cigarettes Want to smoke But want to quit What to do? Don't feel like walking down the hill And then up the hill And then up the stairs Puffing and panting, wishing That I had quit already.

Connecting, like magnets on that first night She hesitates; the last Bart train leaving the platform, Not wanting to leave his side First kiss, on the platform; holding on “Don’t leave me,” she thinks, “I don’t want to,” he thinks. They end up at the Holiday Inn The night, full of their desire Beautiful, endless, beautiful, Holding on. Holding on. In the bathtub, he holds her, caresses her, kisses her, Washes her, pushes her hair out of her eyes. Wet silence in the night, broken by little droplets of water when they move. Making love, endlessly, passionately. All throughout the night. In the morning they dress. She smokes a cigarette on the balcony As they watch the morning begin on the noisy city street below They go for coffee, The passion and desire of the night still fresh When her eyes lock with his, she has to look away His eyes bore into her soul, she thinks he can see her from the inside out Several rendezvous ensue. A...

You see her, walking down the street. Mumbling to herself, pushing the shopping cart Wild, dirty hair; yellow fingernails, missing teeth You don't want to look at her because you are afraid Of the truth and the sadness behind her eyes You don't want to take the time to ask Because you are afraid that her truth might be yours Years and years from now. Broken promises and regrets. False truths you believed in. Caved in; torn to pieces; Pieces of you, pieces of her. You don't know which is which.

Curtains closed,  city street sounds below.  Inside, dark blue, your silhouette breathing slowly, next to me against crisp white sheets. Our bodies writhed and twisted a few minutes ago,  the need for each other almost unbearable. Thirsty; hungry, we fed upon each other, as if tomorrow may never come. Tomorrow you will go again and disappear. My want and need for you will still be incessant. But now I am good at pretending it isn't. 

Have you ever felt like you have been given a second chance in life? A kind of rebirth? A metamorphosis? Transformation? Whether it be through a conscious decision to do things differently or whether it came about during a life-changing experience? Something happened early this year that has made me rethink everything that I thought was important to me, through habit of living a life that suffocates your soul and stifles your creativity. As a single mother struggling to raise two boys I was running a real estate business that I had gone into because I wanted to help people to attain their piece of the "American Dream". Homeownership. I had previously been working on a large mixed-use development project near San Jose airport, and when that project was finished they offered me a job in Property Management at their San Francisco offices or a good severance of a few months salary and a project completion bonus, which would net me enough money to start my own real estate busi...

She has no burden. She stands, at the edge of a very high, grassy cliff,  head back, face up to the sun, arms wide open, and feels the warmth of the sunlight on her face. She has long black wavy hair. She is barefoot, wearing some sort of off-the shoulder gypsy dress that ripples, long and flowing with the wind. She feels light; a tremendous joy, and dances atop the cliff, a few feet away from an enormous drop into a peaceful ocean of blue. Precarious. Joyful. She dances to the music in her head.

I read this today and wanted to share: "In life you will realize that there is a purpose for everyone you meet. Some will test you, some will use you, and some will teach you. But most important are the ones that bring out the best in you. Those are the ones worth keeping around." Its kind of elementary but sometimes that realization doesn't click until you have been tested, used, or taught something you might not have realized before. And yet, sometimes you meet someone and just don't understand their purpose for connection. I suppose I just recently met someone that I thought I had a real deep connection with and it seems to have just flittered away as though it never existed. I asked myself, "Did I do something wrong?" It's all in the eyes. Perhaps I should have understood it the last time I saw this person, whom I seem to have met during a particularly difficult and transitional time in my life. I spent some moments with this person that made me ...

People drift around unconsciously doing things, getting things done, thinking thoughts that cloud the beauty of the only thing that is real, and that is this moment. The simple things that happen when life breathes through you. The taste of an apple; the smell of fresh lavender; preparing a simple meal; wet grass in the morning; hearing the stillness of a moment. It is time passing by without many of us enjoying the very essence of that single moment. I am listening and seeing. I am becoming more mindful and it's changing my reality.

Windows to the soul are eyes. You reach inside and shake up the soul within. Looking through your hair. Intensely gazing. With you; enveloped in darkness, twinkling city; smiling lights Breathe in your smell; kiss you in the moonlight. Electricity when you touch, tiny impulses drum every inch of skin. Your skin on mine. My being touching yours. Falling down the rabbit hole. Stumbling speak. Crashing waves; breezy and blue; your face; a painted memory. Face up to the sun, spin around and around around like that dream that never faded. No sense of time. Hours flash by in minutes, causing dizziness. Your head in my lap. My fingers in your hair. Floating, dreamlike, with soft edges and vivid colours. Flashes of passion; your heat courses through my veins like an addiction, Feel fluttery, heart beats fast, insides warm. I ask how? You say it's your secret.

I had a very spiritual experience the other day. It was my third session with Kate Jones at Mind Body Movement as I work on healing a fractured childhood. This particular day I had no expectations and I started by letting her know that I was feeling anxious, like something needs to change; this feeling of entrapment; living in an American suburb where I feel like I am suffocating every day that I am here. I explained I was feeling no peace and how I had literally experienced a panic attack in my kitchen on a recent morning and almost fainted. There has never been that feeling of..."sigh, I am home...." You know; that feeling when you know you don't need to move anymore, because you have found the place you want to live, for a while, or forever. I have never felt that. Every place I have ever lived has felt temporary...sometimes I don't put pictures up on the wall, or unpack boxes because I feel I won't be staying long. It has always been this way, I expect because...

I was deeply saddened to hear about Steve Jobs passing. He was always my hero, not only for his innovative ideas and brilliant mind, but for his long battle with cancer and illness. His commencement speech to the Stanford graduates in 2005 really hit home for me. He inspired me. To me, he was the Einstein of our generation. A true genius. If you haven't heard it, click on the link below and prepare to be inspired. Steve's 2005 Commencement Speech to Stanford Grads

One of the hardest things I have ever had to deal with is being a single mother to a teenage boy. My son just turned 17, and although I should be thankful that he's not in a gang or getting bad grades at school, or drinking,  there's that letting go thing. You know, when you still think he's your little boy, and he wants to be as far away from you as possible. No matter how cool of a mother I might be, i.e. ride a motorcycle, attend Burning Man; does NOT wear "Mom Jeans"; I am still not cool enough. He laughs at everything I do or say. Sometimes he drives me up the wall because he's making fun of something or other and not being serious or listening to me. Lately he has been acting like he's the man of the house, a peril of not having a father around. He is also a Leo, as am I, and for some reason we have this love-hate thing going on. You see, he's one of those crazy-makers. Yes, you know the ones. Those family members you love intensely, but they m...

And so it is, with great sadness that I realized some time ago that I will not make it to Black Rock Desert this year for Burning Man . Needless to say, I am extremely depressed, and have been for about a month, when the friend that was saving me a ticket, broke up with his girlfriend of eight years and informed me that the extra ticket apparently got lost in the break up. I have had a particularly hard summer financially and was already contemplating the very real possibility that I wouldn't make it this year, followed shortly thereafter by the announcement that, for the first time in Burning Man's 25 year history, tickets had sold out, and that the amount of people allowed had reached capacity.