a simple story of a puddle.

A simple story.

This afternoon, whilst sitting alone in my apartment all day
I opened my front door,
and walked out into the sunlight.

I wanted to take photos.
That was the ONLY thing on my to-do list.

The cool, spring wind brushed past my face and I smiled.
Not to sound completely cliche here… but every single time that I walk outside now,
I tend to smile.

I am grateful to step out of my space and into the fresh air.
I feel a sense of privilege.

bay winds
quiet streets
blaring sunlight
sound of tires on gravel

While on my bike, I stopped in the middle of my ride because of a puddle.
The rippling of the water caught my eye and I stopped.
I didn’t care if it took more time to get off of my bike.
I took out my camera and was capturing a wet patch of water on the pavement.
I took a picture of a puddle.
I noticed it.

That was all.
This isn’t even about the puddle.
It’s about taking note
of the little things.

A poem for you... if you feel alone right now.

i wrote this the other night… hope you enjoy & sending love to wherever you are. (video version listen below)

Sirens, panic, Clorox spray.

It was Friday night. I was in my apartment, watching a YouTube video, resting after a day of painting. 
I repeat, it is Friday – social distancing began last Sunday – it hasn’t even been a week of not seeing anyone. 

I love being alone.
Get me away from people, I need my space. I’m not a hugger. 
I wish I could get away from everyone and paint all the time.

You know what they say…
be careful what you wish for – because you just might get it. 

In this case, of course, I am not speaking of the virus – the widespread, global pandemic COVID-19, otherwise known as coronavirus. 

This invisible monster,
That seems to be lurking in the crevices of your coffee table,
And the interior nook of your front door. 
Eyes glazed across the screen of your phone,
Glued to the latest news.

Guns, knives, and nuclear warfare seemingly dismantled by one invisible glare of a minuscule organism. 
At this point of the night,
I hear sirens blaring up and down the street where I live… and I feel the panic spread over my body.

Maybe there’s a fire,
Maybe there’s a crazy person running around

Maybe there’s a fight over groceries at CVS
Maybe they’re out of toilet paper 

These were valid thoughts. 
I let myself think about them. I was aware of them.
I was acknowledging everything around me. 

The look that woman gave me today on my bike ride,
As if I was from another planet,
Plagued with the infection,
As if I was the infection itself.

There’s a paranoia all around us.
Not the one lurking on the corners of your coffee table,
Being flooded with Clorox spray and sanitizer. 

But the one in the eyes of a stranger.
Someone who regards you for this invisible illness orbiting our world. 

The thoughts about the sirens I heard tonight outside seemed to mimic what was happening in the world at large. 
The sirens – the fear. 

These days spent alone
Have taught me that I am a hugger.
That connection is vital – physical human connection.
Staring into a loved one’s eyes,
Sharing moments with the one’s who are most important to you.
Being compassionate to others.
Smiling at a stranger (while keeping a 6 ft distance)

As the sirens blare – as the fear spreads…What if we all, were invited to not plug our ears in ignorance… but to acknowledge the sound, be cautious and wary.
Be present with it,
and re-center. 

Put your hand on your heart and feel it beating beneath the palm of your skin,
On the tips of my fingers. 
Realizing we all beat the same.
And tell yourself to breathe in and out and say softly – thank you,
For surviving up until this point in time.
Your body is strong and resilient.
Your mind may be hectic at this time and paranoid thoughts can be overwhelming,
But take a moment, 
To put them at bay.
Feel the tides change.

And say thank you – 
For another breath. 

living within labels & dealing with negativity online

Labels.
Why do we use them?
Why do we label ourselves?
Why do we label others?
Since the beginning of time, we have made up words and distinctions regarding how we perceive things.

This is red.
That is blue.
The ocean is big.

Yes, these are pretty simple and random distinctions, nothing inherently wrong.
The mundanity of this knowledge is instilled in us from a young age – until we learn to self-direct it,
applying words to ourselves.

I am a girl.
I am tall.
I play sports.
I live in a brown house.

Even after these initial phases,
the distinctions are pretty rudimentary.
Until we begin to judge them. Not out of contempt, but out of mere necessity to understand.
We place judgment.
Positive or negative – sometimes even neutral.

I like to play sports.
I like the color blue, not the color pink.
I don’t like riding my bike.
I only like to play outside, not inside with Barbie dolls.

These judgments do not have an abundant, true meaning.
They possess simple, mundane, trivial judgments.
They do not mean anything until…
one grows older and develops,
living within the social confines of a rigid structure.
This mending and bending contortion
of overused adjectives and stereotypical nouns.

I don’t like him.
He is weird.
Those people are different.
She looks like a boy.
I don’t want to sit by them.
She’s a misfit.

…these may not mean anything to you,
until one is directly applied to you.

That last one…rings a bit louder,
a trigger resonating and pestering my eardrum,
vibrating with a higher pitch.
When someone (I will name anonymous), called me this in middle school, years and years ago…it stung.
Plain and simple – it hurt.

Me… a misfit??! What did I do? How?
I don’t want to be left out of the crowd.
I’ve done something wrong.
Why…

It is insane how long certain messages stick with you.
How long that the belief lays dormant beneath your skin like a virus,
festering and waiting for that perfect time to burst through your pores –
and out into the air again for another breath.

I now look at my differences as complimentary.

I’m a misfit.
I f***ing stand out.
Good.

Cut the Hallmark card B.S.
It’s minuscule Halie.
There’s bigger insults in the world – than for you to overcome being called a misfit.
Grow up.
Bigger problems than “being gay.” (which may I add is not a problem… but a blessing)
I’ve grown to see it in this light.

That’s not entirely what this discussion is about though.
It’s about the “comforts” of applying judgmental labels, which leads to their ultimate demise.
After publicly labelling myself on all of my social platforms…to everyone that I “know,” the struggles didn’t seem to dissipate. It may have even aggravated them.
I knew that I was making myself vulnerable online and was ready to take on these negative comments… head-on. (or so I thought)

The negative comments do sting…
and I’d even go as far as saying,
some labels have teeth. (literally & figuratively)

You’re too masculine.
Damn, you don’t even LOOK gay.
& my favorite one yet…
You’re too hot to be a lesbian, what a waste.

Wow… that last one. Thanks for that.
I appreciate that you believe that all lesbians seem to be less physically attractive than everyone else, applying yet another label.
AND
For the ignorant absurdity of the idea – that because I am not desiring a man – it dooms me into being an utter waste to society as a whole.
Initially, this angered me and I was about to comment back a reply that was…let’s just say… heated.

But, I refrained.
I took a couple of deep breaths,
recollected myself, and thought,
”if this person is using their valuable, free time and energy to watch my coming out video online and posting a hateful comment on it… they must be dealing with some deep, internal struggles of their own.
So, kudos to you my friend.
In the words of Demi Lovato from her new song, I Love Me, all these comments won’t “be f***ing up my energy.”

Maybe it’s just that I haven’t experienced extreme negativity through my vulnerabilities online or the newness of receiving them – but the initial emotions always seem to pierce through a thin, metaphorical skin that protects me in my little bubble.

Either way, the projection of labelling causes an internal divide.
There seems to be two sides of me preparing for battle.
Masculine energy vs. the feminine.

This comment from a stranger seemed to evoke a deeper insight and bubbling emotion from deep within me.
The emotions continued to rise and I found myself asking which version of “me” was ultimately “right.”

Am I projecting myself too much?
Do I need to look a different way – wear more heels… get all stereotypical about looks in general.
Is there a line to expressing vulnerabilities?

And I’ve come to this conclusion.
No, you don’t have to “wear the heels,”
or the flannel,
or the rainbow-colored headbands.
(but you can if you’d like to)

In reality, labelling will never end.
Language will continue and we will use words to formulate our worlds.
It is self-directed, in that we direct where our energy goes and how we allow it to project onto us.
I have – to some degree – placed myself within this label, but I choose not to see the bounds of it…
& yes, I will continue to be vulnerable, because I know no other way as a creator and spiritual being (knowing these two go hand in hand.)

Thank you again to that stranger who left a comment on my YouTube channel and to any that may result in the future.
I will learn to develop a tougher skin.
Or rather, to let it go.

And to whatever labels, may have been projected onto you…
We all possess this choice,
of taking note of it…
and living our own truth.

photography by: Gregory Poulos
edits by me

painting the female figure in oils (imperfectly)

The nose seems to be a little off,
the eyes have to measure and be precisely the same distance to the ears.
Multiply 2 eyeballs to find the equal distance between the ––––
Okay this makes no sense.
It sounds like math and my brain immediately jolts in the opposing direction.
Nothing against the math lovers out there… but the two don’t seem to mix for me.

The idea of painting the figure has always led me to thinking about Renaissance painters and Da Vinci dissecting the human form to understand perfect proportions of the body.

These common misconceptions with painting the human form have often led me to only attempting the top portion of the body…and I didn’t notice this fully until I saw a pattern within my works over the years. (listed below)

There seems to be a little pattern…
Which leads me to the question, “Why haven’t I painted the whole body??”

I started painting just the face which then transitioned into painting the chest and upper body.
There was always a resistance to painting the full figure because of common distortions, foreshortening, and believing that the proportions had to be PERFECT.
Well, with the start of 2020, I decided to delve a little deeper into the body and going at it from different angles.

I approach it in a more loose way… focusing on the basic shapes and then harnessing a greater attention to detail as the process progresses.
I talk about the initial steps with the acrylic underpainting and then adding the additional layers of oil paint as I go.
It does not involve adding eyes and ears to find the distance to the toes – which may be an approach that works for some.
Check out my video to hear more about this process.

I think I’m off to an good start – here are some of my latest pieces where I focus on the entire human form.
What will you do this week that will get you out of your comfort zone? (maybe try a cold shower…see last week’s blog post for details) :D

30 DAY COLD SHOWER CHALLENGE & why you should take them too.

Cold showers…??! Okay what.
You’ve gone too far.
What does this have to do with anything.

Yes, I understand. It sounds bizarre and random.
I voluntarily chose to take cold showers for 30 days and continue to take them.
The main question that I get asked when I tell someone I take cold showers is:

why the h*ll would you do that to yourself???!

The answer for me not only rests within the health benefits, but also the more subdued, daily gratitude that slides under the radar (check out my video for health benefits, my journey through the challenge, etc.)

To break it down to the simplest form of why I take them,
which doesn’t have to do with the fat loss benefits or health of my skin and hair (however this is a plus.)
I’d like to paint it with a bit of a more delicate stroke.

Taking a cold shower instills a choice that I make for myself everyday.
It is a litmus test.
Do I want to turn it to cold or hot?
The worst thing that could happen when I turn it to cold is…
that I am cold for 5 minutes of my day. That’s all.
I experience being uncomfortable for 5 minutes.
It is not pain, it is not suffering… unless I make it into that.

cold water numbs the top of my skull,
is it painful, is it comforting?
who even knows.
i can only think cold cold cold cold cold
relax relax relax relax
you are relaxed
it is only water
YOU are in control.

The voices in our head in those stressful situations that tell us to get out of the cold,
is silenced.
We learn to subdue it and overcome small obstacles,
even in the simplest circumstances (taking a cold shower.)
After completing the challenge, I believe that this voice is the same.
Our ego speaking to us,
which is loud and daunting at first,
becomes softer
and softer.

We connect the foot-long distance
between our head and our hearts
and breathe deep breaths to calm our body
as well as our mind.
Our breathing subsides as our bodies chill over,
and in turn warm up.

The timer buzzes and I step into the warmth of my apartment
and I smile.
All is well.
I am grateful,
energized,
happy and healthy.
I did something for myself today.

It is a simple choice.
Try one if you’re feeling brave,
be open to it.
You may surprise yourself.

the flowering subconscious -- what the f*ck is that?!

I used to believe that I could “find myself,”
by peeling back the unused layers, my physical skin, the features that ultimately defined who I was.
I soon realized that there was an ultimate juxtaposition to this statement – none of these physical features defined who I was.

Well then, how do you know?
What can one do ––
for me, I practiced stillness.
I began to “shut off” my features, my senses and perception of the physical world.
Hence, I began meditating.
When I sat down to meditate and began my spiritual journey, I learned of this ultimate disconnection from self, that ultimately links to universal consciousness.

detail.

Okay Halie. Yea yea…keep going on and on with this hippie B.S. I don’t have time to meditate. I don’t need to silence my mind.

I get it. Trust me I do.
I’m not saying this is an easy practice — we all have busy lives.
I understand how it sounds from the outside and how difficult it is to be consistent.
I’m not going to sugarcoat it – this work is hard.

I mean, think about it. How much time do we spend with just ourselves.
I’m not talking about in the car,
in the shower,
cooking,
watching TV,
etc.

I’m talking eyes shut,
in a silent room (or with ambient relaxing sound waves or light music)
sitting on a meditation pillow (or laying on the floor or in a chair)
alone…
for over 5 minutes (I prefer 15-20 yet I started at 5.)

Most answer no, for a variety of reasons.
Speaking for myself, I sometimes procrastinate this act for the fear of “what the hell am I even thinking about today??”

What I’ve noticed though, is that whatever arises, there’s an ever-growing stillness within myself that connects me to the broader picture.
It uncovers the features that I thought I knew and surrounds me with an encompassing sense of connection.
My “problems, confusions, and quandaries” are sometimes amplified, yet other times muted. It’s this practice of unearthing whatever is there, allowing the thoughts to float across the inner crevices of your mind – and let them go.

Okay, so what does this mean? What’s the point.

The point and connection that I’ve recently made has been this.
I used to think I did “inner work” for myself.
Which I do.
Through doing this work, through meditation, gratitude, journaling and creating – it has led me to the blossoming of a new energy – a connection to my subconscious mind that I have never felt before.

a photo captured on the beach yesterday.

What is the subconscious mind?

• it controls 95% of our lives, makes up 95% of our brain power — leaving nearly 5% to the conscious

• many do not access this

• it takes everything literally

• acts as the “file cabinet” for all of your memories

• may only become aware of your decisions after they are made

Think of the subconscious mind as the ocean:
the waves and surface of the water = conscious mind (5%)
the abyss beneath = subconscious (95%)

---

…about my newest painting: Eve & connection to subconscious work.

the coffee I enjoyed whilst writing.

Inevitably, Eve is represented as woman.
Her physical body peeling back to reveal a blossoming of form.
Petals of divine energy.
The flowering of self through your connection to the universe.
Allowing yourself to bloom.
Allowing growth through stillness.
Growth through awareness.
Realizing we are spiritual beings having a human experience.
Spirit flooding throughout her and expanding outward.

These are the concepts for my newest piece.
I challenge you to 5 minutes of stillness per day.
Yes, I’m telling you to prioritize yourself.
Your well-being and health.
Not only for your sake, but for us as a whole.
For our divine connection to it all.

my 24th year of life.

On my 24th birthday,
of course – I must reflect.
With every new year that’s begun, and every year that’s passed,
there’s a sense of reflection,
that I aim to acknowledge.
Because it’s worth it.
For another year;
is a gift – in and of itself.
And therefore, I write.

[sidenote: I’m writing this in the airport after my flight was delayed for the third time –– after a quick trip to the Florida sunshine. I mentioned this to give you a little backstory of my whereabouts upon typing.]

To begin,
This year – I opt for the softer moments.
The ones that are uncalled for,
sometimes spent in solitude,
other times accompanied by those who elate you.
Those that drown out your senses entirely...

Soft moments like…
taking time to awaken
before the sun melts into the sky
in the early morning hours.
Awaiting the pops of illustrious, marigold yellows,
the golden minutes of daylight.

Soft hints of ultramarine blue,
Over ripples of sheer, iridescent water flows. 
Bellowing below oceans of multi-dimensional color.
My soul wades through the dripping colors,
swimming in the radiant warmth of solitary moments –
The ones that make me feel blissfully free.

I’ve learned it takes courage
to dip my fingers down 
into the painted crevices of my mind.
Tracing the swirling, painted colors with the pad of my index finger,
gently gliding ideas and emotions around the inside of my skull,
ripples of words and blurred hues,
A whirlpool of thoughts and feelings.
Carefully waiting for the right moment,
to pluck one out.
To allow it to submerge from my mindful depths…
Finding a slight tug
and pull,
ensuring that I have a grip on one that is adequate –
an idea I can bring to life.

Once I choose an idea, I tread around it slightly.
Massaging the idea around for a bit,
Feeling the pulsating colors and vibrations.
Letting the idea submerge into itself,
Up and into the patterned array of bubbles.
Experiencing my subconscious thoughts in the purest form,
unfolding before my very eyes – viscerally. 
In visual 2-dimensional images,
In between layers
of canvas linens,
Brush strokes,
Sketch paper,
And pencil markings.
Creative energy that is controlled,
yet unabashedly released all at once.

---

Therefore, I ache for more soft moments like this.
Where my creative energy is channeled,
and quality time is spent with those I value most.
Rising up from the deepest canyons of my days to the highest highs – to take a breath.
Here’s to another year of the most precious gift – that I take for granted sometimes – life itself – another day – another breath.

painting update - megyn kelly and commissions

…a little video update on what I’ve been up to this week and the status of my Megyn Kelly piece :)

coming out poetry.

First off – just wanted to thank everyone for their kindness and support on my original coming out post and video. The support means the world to me and every comment made a significant impact on me.

I thought it’d be an interesting idea to react to some of my LGBTQ poetry and some that I have recently written. My writings are usually just a private hobby, but I’m looking into sharing them more.

Hope you like this video and let me know what you think.

Also, if you have any of your own, please message me directly on any of my platforms –– I would love to read your poetry :)

if you lack stillness in your life...

There was a time when I felt I couldn’t breathe.
I felt overworked, tired, and annoyed that I wasn’t getting anything done. It was mid-summer, I was working at a restaurant in a beach town (where drinking and staying out late / relax culture) is prevalent. By prevalent, I mean it’s EVERY NIGHT of summer, spent chilling out on the beach and at bars.

No problem with that. No judgments whatsoever.
Until I realized… it didn’t align with my values.

I realized that I felt a mix of emotions.
Feelings regarding:

a loss of time

feeling ‘rushed’ constantly

being overworked (shifts spent at the restaurant walking around, carrying trays, and staying up late)

misdirection

lack of creating

surrounded by the wrong people

lack of healthy lifestyle

Looking back on my summer, it’s evident that I was tired not only from the long shifts but also not having enough time.
Except, I now realize, I did, have time. I had so much time, in fact, that I chose to spend it elsewhere.
At work, which I can then argue that i had to..

There you are again. That little voice telling me what I ought to do.
Have that drink Halie. Relax. Take the edge off, you work too hard.

Which, I do somewhat agree with this. Sometimes, I chose the after-shift drink instead of opting for sleep. I chose to lounge at the beach instead of picking up my paint brush. Letting beach life culture instill itself in me.

What I lacked then, in the summer, was an overall stillness. A development of spiritual practices that would aid in doing the things that gave me pleasure.

I realized being ‘tired’ was a result of not doing the things that made me feel most alive.

painting / drawing / writing / reading / meditation / QUALITY TIME spent with loved ones and friends (key word: QUALITY)

I learned that what I value is important and anything that doesn’t align, must be dismissed.
For the sake of YOU.
Your well-being.
This much we deserve.

Quality requires attention.

💕

One of my newer works, “be still,” was inspired by Oprah’s book, “What I Know For Sure.” I talk about the inspiration in the video as well as my daily spiritual practices that help quiet my mind.

Hope you enjoy! :)

...why i am painting Megyn Kelly.

Bombshell. I’m choosing to paint Megyn Kelly.

You may be thinking…Halie. This. Is. NOT. a. Bombshell.

Yep, you may be right. However, if you would have told me I’d be painting her and using her story as a subject of my work a month ago – I would’ve thought you were out of your mind.

(current progress)

She’s a Republican! You’re painting someone from FOX News…. she’s too conservative. I don’t watch FOX news, that’s for Trump lovers. I can’t relate to her. She hates gay people! What are you thinking??!

All of these thoughts flooded throughout the darkest crevices of my mind – invading every nook and cranny – unveiling the bleakest traces of hate within my own ego. I must say, in terms of first impressions, this was NOT my strong suit. My quick urge to judge may have been based on a pattern of false beliefs that I’ve experienced since childhood. Today, I am actively working on non-judgment upon first meeting someone – and in this case – judging someone based off of learning about them from stories on the internet, the news, and social media.

I’m being unapologetically honest right now, because that was the truth. Well, not THE truth, but MY version of truth – based on what I know. Quickly realizing, I did not know anything about her. I didn’t know HER story.

I did know one thing – I liked Charlize Theron (she has been my biggest celebrity crush since high school) and I also knew – I saw every movie with her in it.

There it was again, the fate of the universe – bringing me to a story – that lit my soul on fire.
In other words, I saw the movie Bombshell.

Long story short – it was incredible. I was inspired – particularly by the women in the film – and in this case – Megyn Kelly. *side note: Charlize did an excellent job portraying her.

Megyn was a powerhouse. The way she spoke – directly and with such confidence – delivering a point clearly and concisely. She knew how to hold her own. Strong-willed in her viewpoints, goal-oriented. Powerful.
I needed to learn more.

So I did what any normal, young woman would naturally do, [insert sarcasm here], I watched interviews with her on FOX and read articles of the big stories she had covered.

I was blissfully happy about the film. It was wonderful – UNTIL – I came across her video response to the movie.
She filmed a reaction with a couple other victims of the sexual harassment scandal involving Roger Ailes at FOX News.
She didn’t have a say in the film Bombshell.
Immediately, I got angry.
For her and for all of the women in real life who were affected.
For the idea of storytelling and truth. What even was true if they couldn’t get the story from the real women who lived it?
Well, I guess base it off their stories.

Let me take a second to refrain – I do realize that this was slightly ironic – me seemingly bashing the movie.
Especially because – initially, I was inspired by the story THROUGH the advertisement of the movie itself and then going to the movies to see it.
Through the irony, I humbled my quick, angry reaction, respected the original film and its goals of sexual harassment awareness – and moved on.

I went to work that weekend at the restaurant and nearing the end of my late shift, I started sorting through some silverware – and BAM.
There it was – an idea. An image of Megyn Kelly with newspaper wrapped around her face [not an odd visual at all.]

The oddness of the visual didn’t matter – I was inspired. The idea that she was not this story – or by any means – any of the stories that people told about her.
She was in fact, a human being. With her own story. Like all of us have.

And just like that, I ran out to tell my-coworkers of my new idea.
Talking on and on about the story until they told me to get back to work and relax.
Except I couldn’t.
I still wanted to know Megyn Kelly’s story.
So, I did the next best thing.
I started listening to her story – listening to her audiobook memoir, Settle For More.

…and I presume, this is where this story begins.
Beginning with a powerful woman with a story.
Telling it through a painting – my own version of it.

…oh yea, and she’s a registered independent, no more judging.

my coming out story

my story. to come out. 

2020. The year of clear vision. My year of truth.

I guess it was like the first time that I wore my glasses in middle school history class.
I couldn’t make out the small words on the board to take notes from, the blurry edges and apostrophes blending into themselves.
The more that I focused my gaze through the lens, all those little things that didn’t line up, started to adjust.
The moments that made me feel misfit or inadequate.
More specifically, the lack of feeling growing up — the feeling of not being wanted because I did not want anyone else.
Because I was told indirectly by everyone around me that if I talked to this boy, I was therefore important and enough.
Except I didn’t like any boys and by the time I was a junior in college, I presume I’d had enough of this intense feeling of lack.
It was no longer a matter of not seeing, but choosing not to see.

It was a process of shedding.
The shedding of a blurred skin that was fostered from years and years of concealment. Of covering.
Of being afraid.

I could never say it. You’re too quiet Halie. You never speak up for yourself. Say something.

Of squinting my eyes so tightly together that all I could make out was the darkness. Like staring into the sun and being blinded by the truth of it all. You can only keep them shut for so long before the flashes of color burn vividly through the exterior of your eyelids.

Why are you doing this? What’s the point? You’re not Ellen, your story isn’t that important. Who do you think you are? Your ‘friends’ will make fun of you for writing about this later on down the line. What if (insert random person here from 6th grade who might read this and see it on Facebook,) yea that person, what if they see it, what will they think? Why do you have to broadcast it, you’re being hypocritical about labels. 

Well guess what. It’s my story and I’d like to share it.
So that little voice in my head, can silence itself now.

Yep, even writing that little blurb was exhausting, but I included it in the first paragraph to show the truth about writing this. As I wrote those three words ‘coming out story,’ it slowly began to trigger the younger version of myself who used to look up coming out videos on YouTube to make herself feel somewhat valid. 

Were my feelings real? I was too young to know who I was. I didn’t know any better.

I’d sit there in my bed, late at night, looking up coming out stories, watching Rose and Rosie videos on YouTube (an openly gay couple who seemed ‘normal’ to me.) I would laugh to myself under the covers, while unbeknownst to me, were blankets and blankets of worries, fears, and negative thoughts about coming out myself. 

If you haven’t guessed from the title, yes, I’m gay. 
There I said it, so it must now be true. Writing it out.
Setting it in stone. 
Stating it as my truth.

Let’s begin with a little analyzation of the plot.
There’s no straight beginning or an end [no pun intended.]
It’s not linear.
It’s an ongoing possession of memories,
intermingling with current moments.

Hence, there wasn’t an a-ha moment.

It wasn’t a specific flash in time that captured the infamous “coming out of the closet” for me. 

The light streaming into the closet wasn’t luminous and bright, sometimes it wasn’t seen at all, at other times it was muted by dulled shadows. 
Other times were dark. 
Pitched black. 
I seemed to be sitting there, hunched over, waiting for that perfect moment to rise.
To see the light.  
When the rainbows cascaded through the cracks in the ceiling and dripped onto my shoulder blades, coloring me in truth and prosperity – overflowing my body with abundance and love. 
I’d imagined myself rising up into the clouds and shouting my truth to the world while onlookers bowed and threw confetti at my feet.
Except, it wasn’t quite like that. 

Instead, it was a thread of instances – flashes in time that stopped me in my tracks – that made me question the young woman looking back at me in the mirror each morning. 

She was a perfectionist.
She got straight A’s through school, accepted a scholarship for basketball, and pursued her talents in art.
She was independent. She never dated. She didn’t ‘need’ anyone.  
I presume they were right. No, I did not. It was not a matter of ‘needing’ anyone.
I did not need someone to love me 
– but I did need her –
 I soon realized that I needed to love her more than anyone else
– her being myself. 

My story isn’t about falling for someone who changed it all for me,
although there were a few of significant impact. 
It’s about my journey of self-acceptance.
It’s about learning to love the woman in the reflection
looking back at me each day. 
Choosing to see her.
Throughout the years, I’ve learned that with self-love, 
comes cycles of love. 
Much like stages of grief, there’s stages of acceptance. 

When people ask me now: “When did you know?”

What was it then?
How did you know?
Well,
it was a chain of moments, 
memories and experiences that shaped me
[as memories shape us all.]
The moments that make you do a double take. 
Make you wonder about your truth. 

I suppose it’s quite simple then.
Over the years, the simplification was all that I needed.
Those ‘few of significant impact’ influenced a change within me as well.
Feelings that I hadn’t felt prior,
that slipped by unnoticed.

At the end of the day...

It’s that feeling in your gut.
When they’re near,
far,
or anywhere in between.
Whether it’s a look,
a scent,
a gentle touch,
a central gravity that pulls your world into theirs. 
And vice versa.
And then it happens.

The warmth that extends from the tips of your fingers to the ends of your toes.
The rush of energy that spreads throughout your whole body and erupts in your chest.
Spreading heat throughout your veins and waiting
for your body to combust all at once —-

except you realize, then, that you’re sitting still.

It’s chemical. It’s a rush of energy that encapsulates you in your entirety.
It’s feeling present and alive in that very moment with them.
A loss of control,
yet oddly enough, a sense of safety. 
It’s the way you’re grateful – just – to be there – with them – in their presence. 
To sit next to them. To listen.
To feel the same energy of particles
escaping you, flowing into them,  
then returning back home to your very being. 
And you realize that
all your life, you’ve waited for this very moment.
You’ve lost sleep trying to understand,
this very feeling.
Spending nights, staring into the ceiling,
and now into their eyes. 
You’ve looked for it
and longed unconditionally.
When all you had to give was this sense of effortless surrendering, 
and letting something indescribable return home to you. 
All of the confusion begins to settle,
because you feel it now,
and it’s okay. 
Everything is still.
Blissfully quiet.
And then there it is again.
The beating of your heart beat
deep in your chest,
and the vibrations that are resonating inside of you.

I look up.
I’m here with you now.
And I just so happen,
to be with her. 

So, truth or dare?
The painting that is you.

– the truth –
I’ve learned that each morning, we have a choice.
To smudge and blur our own forms of self-image –
living in this black and white distortion of reality
- sharing contorted views of oneself to others.
Squinting and eventually finding that
we are only seeing faint, silhouetted views
of human beings.
These external outlines of truth –
senses of disguise.

– the dare –
I dare you to peel them back,
watching the blurs of grey
turn to muted pastel tones.
Smear yourself in the color of truth
from head to toe.
Drench yourself in the pigments;
because for years I never dared to even
place a finger in the paint.
Find yourself emblazoned in fiery reds
and deep blues –
emanating from the aura of all that you are.

I inhale in, exhale out.
Letting my breathing reach a steady calm.
Adjusting my eyes to the morning light,
sensing that I am alive and well –
and ready to finally see.
So there’s the choice –
and I open my eyes now.

…and if you aren’t yet ready
to open them
and it feels like you’re straining to see…
it’s okay.
Take a breath,
because in time,
you will see.

---

photography by: Gregory Poulos
edits by me

2020 Mindset (Video Reaction)

Wow. 2019 is officially over.

It was good to me. I moved twice, started something completely new, quit my first job, moved to the coast, lived on my own for the first time, met new people and discovered my spiritual journey.

…a lot more happenings seem to be intermingled within those spaces.

Overall, I enjoyed it and I feel that 2020 will be an amazing year.
I am excited for what’s to come and I share some new insights in my latest video.

Check it out here:

How Meditation Has Helped Me & New Painting Series

Meditation…let’s clear the mind.

false.
How about we become so aware of our thoughts that clarity is our only choice.

My focus on inner work and meditation has transformed my new outlook on my newest series. Here’s a new video on my insights about my new painting and where I see it going next.

What I Know for Sure – Painting is Meditation

What I know for sure, is that everyone needs to read Oprah’s book, “What I Know for Sure.”

the book of greatness.

I sat before my blank canvas, listening to the sound of Oprah’s voice in the background as I began the audiobook. Candle burning on my table, paints at my side, I felt a peaceful tranquility spread through me. I savor these moments.

I used to just listen to music, but I now find that engaging with a good audiobook or podcast – does wonders for the mind.

I suppose its a form of meditation and allowing creative channels to flow throughout my being. A sense of comfort.

On this cold December evening, I was graced with the melody and warmth of Oprah’s voice and her sheer wisdom altogether. I listened:

“If you peel back the layers of your life, stillness awaits.”

The sound of this quote struck me. I immediately paused what I was doing, stopped the audiobook, and took a note of it in my phone.

THIS – this – I repeated to myself - isn’t it the essence of this painting? The process of finding stillness.

It’s not cut and dry. It’s not something that smacks you all at once like a punch to the throat… well I suppose all of our spiritual awakenings are different.

Quite honestly, I was angry at how the painting was turning out and I was telling myself it looked like crap. The paint wasn’t applying cleanly on the impasto layer.

Okay, maybe let’s just reapply the primer on top of this layer – covering it up.

Still nothing. Didn’t apply smoothly to the layer below and looked even more muddy.

AHA.

The only way to apply it fresh was to scrape it away – to start anew. To deal with the layer itself, remove it, starting again. Thus, the process of meditation in itself.

For me, it’s a constant process, a filtering of ideas and thoughts. Cleaning out the old ones to make room for new. I found myself scraping away the old, loosely applied paint and reapplying a more polished, cleaner version on top (or was I really just revealing what was beneath already?)

In my frustrations of this new painting experiment, I experienced a breakthrough. I felt myself smiling while I scraped the paint away.

The thoughts in my head: “This is LITERALLY the point. It is the concept of inner work - expressed in a painting. I didn’t even see it like this until now and connected it to Oprah’s quote.”

Thus, keep painting, keep doing what you’re doing. For, it will soon become more clear. The layers below will shine through more clearly when you scrape away the unneeded things on top.

The power is you.

This I know for sure.

---

Also, I would definitely recommend Oprah’s book:

Here are some quotes that I took away from it:

“We all share the same heart space. We just fill it with different things.”

“What you focus on, expands.”

“The light from your life comes in one conscious breath at a time.”

“Be in the world, not of it.”

“Alignment = Enlightenment “

“We lose sight of being, when we’re all too busy doing.”

10 Year Challenge: 6 Things I Would Tell My 13-Year Old Self.

10 years ago, I was 13.
I was in eighth grade.
I was nervous about who I was sitting next to at the lunch table, who my ‘best friends’ were, which Hollister t-shirt that I would wear the next day and how my hair looked (which clearly wasn’t considered in the photo above.)

I asked my mom why she let me leave the house that morning on picture day; to which she shrugged and replied: “you thought it looked good.”

Fair enough.

Thanks mom.
I wanted to re-take that photo. I’m glad that I didn’t.

Back then, I didn’t know where I was going.
Today, I guess I still don’t.
I suppose some things don’t change.
With that being said, it’s fair to say that I do believe that I have it a little more figured out.
I learned a thing or two over a 10-year span.

To that young girl with the braces,

1) Your friends will change, you will grow with and away from people.

It’s not something to be afraid of, just live your life. Go with the natural flow. You will get into arguments and sometimes it might even be your fault. In that case, apologize, say sorry, and if it can’t be reconciled, try your best to forgive. For; it takes more energy to hold onto things. Circumstances will change, you will feel scared of the unknown. You will graduate and go to college (or you will pursue something different.) You’ll meet people who you didn’t like at first, and they’ll end up becoming your close circle. The ones that you confide in and share simple stories with. Your wins, your doubts, your upsets. Cherish these people, they are your lifeline.

Stop worrying about first impressions so much, don’t judge right away. People may surprise you.

2) You’ll get your heart broken [even by those who don’t love you back.]

This was a big one. I don’t care who you are attracted to, but once the feelings are there, it’s hard to turn back. For me: don’t worry that you don’t have a boyfriend yet or why you don’t (you’ll figure that out later.) You have the right to feel those butterflies that are pounding away in your chest and why you feel dizzy around that person. Why you wait all day to catch a glimpse of them in the hallway at their locker. Or later, being captivated by the woman who seems to drip gold with each step that she takes. You may fall for people you cant have, and that’s okay, just know that your worth is not defined by whether or not they want you back.

“…or worse, they might not even be aware that you love them.”

Remember that you are human. The feelings that you have are valid. Keep loving her anyway.

3) You’ll fail sometimes.

Yep, this one is a given. Whether it’s losing the regional championship basketball game, not getting asked to Homecoming, or failing that test. You’ll fail and fail again. Your failures help you to grow. Yea, it sucks sometimes. Your coaches, friends, and family will be there for you. But at the end of the day, when your head hits the pillow, it’s you and you.

Your thoughts scream out and your truths keep you awake. Listen to them; for you know yourself best.

4) Put down the drink, it’s okay to say no.

Your passion is within you.
If you stay in on a Saturday night to paint and don’t feel like going out – it’s okay. You’re not missing out by not going to the bonfire and drinking the beer that you won’t like the taste of to impress so-and-so. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone. You’ll spend time developing your craft, and unbeknownst to you, you’ll be unravelling your identity within the artwork.

Yes, that seascape that you painted for the first time in your room that you ended up throwing out that night in frustration, may seem like pointless effort. And your sketches and doodles. There’s smudges and eraser marks on the surface, but please don’t stop drawing. In fact, turn the page, grab another sheet of paper and prime a new canvas.

one of my first seascape acrylic paintings.

And I know you’re stressed about basketball. You’re worn-out, your body is sore, your legs are aching from practicing six days a week. There’s homework due. You feel afraid that you’re not going to get the right basketball scholarship, make the right decision for your future. But, take a deep breath. It’ll come. Keep practicing, keep working and believing in yourself. Magically, the opportunity always seems to present itself.

5) Take care of yourself.

Yes, eat the kale. Do the yoga, go to spin class, lift the weights. Eat your fruits and vegetables and don’t forget to hydrate throughout the day. But even more than that, take care of your mind.

Sit still. Become aware of what you’re thinking about. Put down your phone for a second. Nobody really cares whether or not you like that picture or if you see their new post.

Keep a filter on what you see on Instagram. Don’t bog yourself down with comparisons, it will only lead to further procrastination.

In short, meditate on it. Feed your brain with new knowledge and differing perspectives. Have people challenge you. Be open to being uncomfortable when people ask you questions.

We’re all just trying our best to figure it out.

This will lead you on your path.

I’m sure of it.

6) Stop what you’re doing. Go watch that sunset.

diary excerpt; c. 2010.

Listen to your gut. You’re right on time.

Move to the ocean. Try something new. Quit your job. Take that serving job. Start diving into subconscious work. You are on the path you’re meant to walk and please don’t stop walking.

Make time for the things that are important to you.

Feel the sand under your feet and let the warmth of the ocean chill the tips of your toes and heat you to your core.

Maybe you knew where you’d end up all along. An excerpt from one of my first diaries above. Interestingly, I think that my younger self shared a bit more pure wisdom and energy. It seems to be quite true: aren’t we all seeking a life that feels like a vacation?

And lastly, I would thank my Mom:

for letting me leave the house that morning, for watching me walk out the front door proudly with my side bangs and straightened hair — for letting me be me. For letting me make decisions for myself that were good, and some that were bad [the stuff that I don’t always tell you.] But, it’s always your voice in the back of my head reasoning with me.

For, if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have become the woman that I am today [and am still in the process of becoming…]

…and finally,

a message from my younger self:

“Maybe you’re a little too optimistic.

Maybe you do believe in dreams, happy rainbows, and falling in love.

Eraser marks and smudges.

You may feel that you’re not quite where you want to be yet, and that’s okay.

But, please, on whatever circumstance, do not pop your own bubble; for that power is [and forever will be] ours alone.”

Photography by: Gregory Poulos

STUCK IN THE ICE: BREAK THROUGH IT.

It wasn’t that I was stuck; merely the thought of feeling frozen.
My fingers callous and frostbit; I couldn’t pick up the brush.
My knuckles were ice-capped and unmoving.
My body morphed into a stone-like position as a statue would.
Except I wasn’t a Venus, impossible to be David, more of a reclined, unmotivated excuse of a sculpture.

That October morning, I stare into the blankness of my bedroom wall from my bed as I lay there. I suppose there wasn’t any significance to the morning. I didn’t notice the shallow field of light cascading from my skylight or the slight sound of birds chirping outside of my window. For my window was sealed shut and all I could hear was the pounding of the garbage truck dumping trash into the dumpster loudly from a parking lot nearby. I closed my eyes and wished it would stop.

Methodically, I managed to stand up and make myself a cup of coffee. I reached for my favorite mug and set it below the Keurig. My back ached a bit from working at the restaurant the night before, carrying trays and plates around the entire evening. I looked at myself in my bathroom mirror and noticed the gentle hue of dark shadows under my eyelids. I felt a sly sense of defeat laughing back at me mockingly from the reflection in the mirror. I walked back out to the kitchen for my coffee. Stirring the milk into the dark, brown liquid, I suddenly remembered that I needed to make a new drawing today for Inktober.

Inktober is a world-wide challenge created to rid creative blocks and challenge artists to make an ink drawing every day during the month of October, based upon a word prompt each day.

I reached for my phone to look up the word.
Today’s word: freeze.

Immediately upon seeing the word, I felt the gears beginning to shift in my brain:

freeze – cold – frozen – ice – ice cube?

– making the ice cube look surreal – huge ice cube – small human – frozen in time

– draw someone frozen in a cube?

In turn, I let my mind do its thing. It roamed free, delving into crevices that felt unreachable before.

Quickly thereafter, I shot a reference photo while sitting down, grabbed my sketchbook and pens, and began to draw. My hands jolted to life, the ice from the tips of my knuckles seemingly melting away. They moved in synchronization with my mind — my mind and body seemed to be working as one unit.

This painting is based off of that sketch that day.

It encompasses the idea of feeling small, inadequate, frozen by circumstance, our environment, or the worst of all: ourselves.

Our bodies seem to overtake our minds and tell ourselves to give up.

What’s the point? You aren’t good enough. You don’t have it in you.
You’re tired. You’re stuck here. You can’t get out of bed.

But, it’s merely illusion. It’s this cube you’ve cornered yourself into.

The limiting beliefs (the outer cube) that must be destroyed and melted away by your inner light.

Unbeknownst to you, the power is within you already. It is blaring yellow, iridescent gold.

When we unfreeze ourselves, we connect to that larger being, breaking through our own subconscious. Realizing that, yes, we do have the power to melt the ice cube and reach what we set out and intended to.

The creative spark. The thing that peels us away from our bed and gets us moving. The hot air balloon that we long to fly away in. The dream.

We didn’t see it before, but it was dripping from the brush the whole time. Quite simply, what if it begins then. By standing up, pushing away the tiredness of your body, cracking open the window, and listening to the subconscious mind. Escaping your physical environment and just listening.

My YouTube Channel

Lately, I have been focusing a lot on the content of my YouTube channel. I’ve been interested in creating videos more and expanding the content of my channel.

I’m going to be implementing more update painting videos, ASMR, sketchbook tours, and videos surrounding my latest works.

Here is my latest video explaining the meaning behind my inktober sketchbook drawings. (I consider it to be soft-spoken ASMR as well.)

Check it out and be sure to subscribe if you enjoy the videos :)

Inktober Series = COMPLETE

Well, I did it. I finished inktober.

31 drawings in 31 days.

I’m proud to say that each drawing is a reflection of myself.

Each drawing was inspired by a word prompt & in turn each drawing inspired a few lines of words.

Inktober

Inktober 2019 Challenge

Ink on toned paper

Each of the posts is also documented on my Instagram :)

New series idea... cubes of reality.

Whilst I was painting my new ice cube painting yesterday, my little ice cube that I feel that I’m always surrounded by… I had a realization. I am constantly consumed in my own cube, as we all are. However, I started to think about others. Other cubes.

The woman I’d seen in Starbucks yesterday.

The old man that I’d glanced at on my bike ride by the shore.

That friend that is struggling.

The little girl running around enjoying herself at recess in the schoolyard.

That man you’ve never met that’s sitting at his office desk on Wall Street.

These people that we’ve met before, seen, have yet to meet, or never will.

Infinite cubes of realities.

We all have our stories, longings, griefs, dreams, and present thoughts.
I want to tell multiple stories, not just my own.

In short, I am ready to expand upon this one.

Current progress on the first session: 3 hours