I AM.

I love the fall. It is my favorite time of year. The moment the wind picks up. The September sky changes into a richer shade of blue. The first howls of the season that reaches right through to your core. The first kisses of the wind against your exposed skin. The still burning bright sun-rays that warm your soul from within. The leaves changing. The mesmerizing contrasts of green, burning reds and bright, nourishing oranges.

So vividly alive, everything is changing. Once again, never to be the same. In this moment we let go of everything we don't need anymore. The hurt, the pain, the heartbreak, we simply dust off the cookie crumbs and move on. And with the wind of change we fly away. We grow stronger, wiser. With every breath we take, we refuse to look back. We walk on. We keep moving, crawling, running. It matters not how. We choose to embrace the change that the creator brings with the seasons as so within.

I love standing in the middle of the tall trees in the midst of the forrest in the autumn storms.
Listening to the sounds of silence, the wind howling my name, tearing me to pieces and putting me back together.
Never to be the same.

The feeling of how little I am in this big beautiful world that we have been handed over. I recognize how insignificant I am yet still how powerful every single one of us can be when we choose to stand our ground in this moment, calling in the one.

I can walk forever in the woods, just getting lost in translation, in colors, in the maze of life, letting go of all these small, useless things we think we need. And realizing that nothing really matters, yet everything does.
In that, there is bliss.

I love the fall. It is so alive, and never fears change. It is always solid yet never rigid. It always comes, yet always changes. There is comfort in the turmoil.

And it is the perfect time to embrace the change of the seasons with lots of steamy hot chai all cuddled up in soft blankets in front of the window late at night.
I love this time of year.

In this skin.

I was thinking of something the other day while digging my feet in the still-warm-sand watching the last rays of the sun scatter across the ocean.

I was thinking, why. Why are so many people struggling with just being human - in this skin. Why can we not just embrace being in this skin - alive and well. And yet, everyone is fighting their own battle regardless of how picture perfect it may look from the outside. Regardless - and in spite of, and sometimes indeed because of - everything they have been given, that's been handed to them on a silver plate.

And it's not very difficult to answer. It's just sometimes it is so very easy to forget.

We don't grow if we do not struggle. And the whole point of being in this skin is to develop character - to grow. On a wider scale - every culture who has chosen to embrace hedonism and the easy life has been struck by nemesis. And the fundament they built their empire on has been made by sticks that the wind could easily blow to pieces. Resilience is like a muscle we develop through trying again and again and again and again and again. And yet again. And when we crawl through mud and think we are sinking, that is when we must pull ourselves up - that is the turning point where we change, where we grow stronger, wiser and compassionate. That is the moment where we do not care of the reflection in the mirror, because we have faced our inner demons - we know exactly what we are made of.

This is the only muscle that matters in life - developing resilience enables us to overcome our own weaknesses, to have compassion for others who need help and to burn our ego and vanity, because we are not giving into the pressure of a toxic environment to live up to a certain set of fake and hollow standards that are morally corrupted and will slowly eat us up from the inside. Ultimately leading to our own destruction - whether we turn to drugs, foods, relationships or what not, in attempt to numb the pain of disconnecting from our core self.

We must never give up. We must always grow... however slowly, that is the only way.

Forever.

It's funny how we hope - against all odds that we some day will discover something that is forever.
It is as if something is carved in our backbone - something that is so deeply ingrained in our body but a distant memory of a forever. Something that we remember yet we are not quite sure what it feels like.

What it tastes like. What it looks like.

So we search.

And search. In bars. On the bottom of whiskey bottles, trazodone, painkillers and empty pints of ice cream. Behind closed doors. The search continues on. Until we realize that nothing can satisfy the void. The hunger our starved souls have for something that will last foever. Something that will go against all odds, narrow minds and against the fragility of our thin skin that tends to break under pressure, leaving scars that last almost forever.

Forever.

Nothing is forever but change.

Changing paces. places, spaces and faces.

And yet, somehow in the depth of our soul there is something that feels like it will last forever.

Something that is forever when we recognize that nothing of that which can be touched with the tips of our fingers is forever, yet something that will touch our soul in some way may just be what will in fact last forever.

I believe some things are forever. Some things are meant to be forever. Some things that are to be found in the depth of our soul. Perhaps, maybe, someday.

Sunset, Venice Beach, Cali 2013
Photo from my Eat+Travel book.

The White Wash.

White wash of Portugal, GypsyTalesTM

Across rivers,

bridges and boulders

there's a place where time

stands still

if you listen closely

you can hear the whisper

so gentle; pulling you in 

the sound of silence

like parthenope wrapped in silk 

on the shores of naples

calling out your name

against the white wash

if you run fast enough

you can catch glimpse of moonshine

in the ebony black river

the coldness cutting into flesh

the fragility of our mortality

in the shadow of moonshine

is a space where no land exists

in the darkness of the soul.

things i love.

i love scars. i love the way they tell a story of things that have left an imprint in heart and soul. the boundaries that have been pushed. the chances we took. i love vermont summer rain kissing my shoulders on a humid june afternoon. i love feeling the sahara wind blowing through to my core. the penetrating silence. i love thunderstorms in the midst of the dry arizona desert. like a cry from the heavens above. i love the hot sand burning against my soles. feeling alive, free and vibrant. i love listening to the sound of the wind howling something i can't understand. yet somehow, some way the longing feels familiar. i love watching kids play carelessly and free in the tall grass. i love that moment someone decides to fly. that they've had enough of all the lies we live. no longer to be trapped by fake illusions. i love watching the lioness carrying her cub by the neck, gentle yet firm. i love feeling the rays of the sun caressing my soul. i love the way indian women wrap themselves in the colors of the rainbow. soft as silk. i love my coffee black as the lava of la gomera. strong, bold and intense. so smooth. i love the narrow alleys of napoli. the laundry hanging from the windows all around. i love the sea of smiles in myanmar. the small white rice balls sweet with coconutmilk. i love the warm soft waters of the caribbean. the turquoise blue and the swaying palm trees in the afternoonbreeze. that nothing matters yet everything does. i love the fragility of a kitten pressed against my chest. the rapid heartbeat. i love that something so small and frail allows itself to trust in a human being. trusting someone like you and me to take care of it... to always be there for it. i love the way lightning cuts through the rich, black sky over the savannah of kenya. i love that moment where we start from scratch. and then one more time all over again. i love seeing the passion in the eyes of street kids in marrakech. the zest for life. that there is something more. i love inhaling the spicy sweet aroma of a steamy hot chai on a cold autumn morning in the woods of sweden. i love picking crisp apples and making stewed cinnamon apples with whipped cream. i love boston when the leaves are changing to bright yellow and burning passion red. i love the sounds of birds chirping on those sweet mornings in southern carolina. i love awakening to the church bells in the countryside. i love those windy, rugged summers in new england. oh and eating crabs with your hands. i love the strong smell of spices on every corner you turn in the medina of marrakech. i love running fast along the sand on the endless shores of oualidia. i love feeling the salty ocean splash up against my calves. i love the comforting embrace of moist banana-walnut bread. i love licking the snow flakes off my lips under a white sky in austria. i love watching the cattle grass on the green pastures in the countryside of denmark. so calm, quaint and quiet. i love the ever-changing mesmerizing green-blue deep lakes of norway. i love eating buttered raisin-walnut bread so succulent and sun-ripened sweet. i love the touch of feather-soft cashmere against my skin. i love the way men dress in milan. timeless and elegant. i love sicilian pistachio gelato melting - evaporating - on my tongue. i love those scrawny alley cats hiding on every ancient ruin in athens. i love the moonlight reflecting in a lake in the midst of the woods. i love the burnt smell of marshmallows on a stick slowly caramelizing over open fire. i love the simplicity of sleeping in a tent in the woods of joshua tree. i love the sound of the waves in big sur crashing against the black cliffs. tearing apart, mercilessly and consistently. i love watching the leaves play in the wind for no particular reason. i love that.

Above the clouds, Tenerife

Perfect Espresso crema, Tenerife

Ships and Sails, Harbor of Sebastian, La Gomera

Clashes of colors, Sebastian, La Gomera

The white wash and rugged black lava beaches, La Gomera

Surfers, La Jolla, California

The stairs to the white wash, La Jolla, California

Quaintness of Copenhagen, Denmark

Bike, Copenhagen, Denmark

The countryside, Nivaa, North Seeland

Wild Apples, Sweden

Sheep, Sweden

The ocean separating Denmark and Sweden

The turquoise waters of South Beach, Miami

The skyscrabers of South Beach, Miami

Beneath Lifeguard house, South Beach, Miami

Sunset, The Caribbean

Bounty Beaches of Tahiti

Oualidia, Morocco

Solitude, Oualidia, Morocco

Fisherman's boat, Oualidia, Morocco

Eating fresh-caught just grilled over fire Dorade + Moroccan salad, Oulidia

View from Eden, Oualidia, Morocco

Streets of Marrakech

Tajines of street vendors in the old medina of Marrakech

Jewelry, Marrakech - the old Medina

Silk pants, Marrakech - the old medina

Marrakech - the old medina

Silence, The Sahara

Traveling the last stretch of the outskirts of Morocco before entering the Sahara

Spices, North Africa

Laundry, Western Sahara

The Blue Men tribe, Western Sahara

Mint tea, in our tent in  the middle of Sahara

Photography CopyrightGypsyTalesTM - All Rights Reserved.

flakes of snow.

Mammoth, California March 2013
From GypsyTalesTM

like flakes of snow falling from the sky
scattered all around you
on a cold winter's day
as if the heavens left the gates open
for you to reach out

like flakes of snow melting on the ground
disappearing as soon as they arrived
at first glance seeming solid
yet melting upon the very touch
the bittersweet memory
the trace on your skin

like flakes of snow tumbling down
melting into riverstreams
flowing down mountains
wild, fragile and rugged
it will find its own way down
drowning everything on its way

like flakes of snow.

There's a moment.

There's a moment in time. That moment we realize we are not alone. We never were.
That everything we do cause ripples in the water.
There's a moment when we realize through our darkest moments we grew brighter.
There's a moment when we realize all our pain and sorrows were attachments to things, people - that we do not own, and never will.

And therein lies the beauty - the moment we let go we are able to hold others up.

That's the moment we change.

river streams.

Winter coming, Sweden November 2012
from GypsyTalesTM

running fast 

along the frosty sand

endless miles til next escape

feeling the splashes of salty white 

whipping against calves

rays of light 

streaming through dark clouds

coming down to play

glistening in the sea

careless and free

we were meant to be

upon first frail step

we lost ground

stumbling to our knees

licking lips 

stained with desire

only to find 

a bittersweet aftertaste

lingering on our breath

whispering in our ears

a language we dare not speak

we stare into the unknown

blinded by light, losing sight

Seasons of change.

Blue-grey color palate of Winter's first steps, Sweden
From GypsyTalesTM

Winds that blow 

through to your bones

leaving a restlessness

you can't deny

Winds that whisper

howling in turmoil

names of the yet to be

leaving a mark in your soul

Winds that caress

your hungry heart

scratching your thin skin

leaving tear-marks of desire

Winds that reach out

carry you through

the darkness of the night

when you struggle to see the light

Cali. A State of Mind.

I love California.
Because of the diversity. Because of the merciless crashing waves.  Because of the way the fog wraps everything in the North like a secretive blanket, leaving you caught in a dream. Because of the endless highways that take you nowhere, and yet exactly where you want to go. Because of the summer rain gently kissing my skin. Because of the pink and orange hues burning bright with desire, when the sun goes to sleep in late November. Because of the clicking sound of the flip-flops from all around. Because of the sweet ocean mist in the morning that lingers with the richness of my black, black coffee. Because people dare to believe in what can be, rather than what is. And I love that.

 

Northern Cali: The Bixby Bridge.
Yes, it was made for flying your hunter-green Corvette across.
From GypsyTalesTM

"More spectacularly endowed than any other of the 50 states, culmination of the American movement westward, neighbor to Asia, raw; young; powerful, yet with oases of extraordinary sophistication and a smattering of every cultivated grace, California is a place where you can find
whatever you come looking for."

- Wallace Stegner

Colors of Fall.

Sweden, Colors of Fall 2012

from Gypsy Tales TM

i remember
biting into
a thick slice of crumbly
freshbaked apple pie

the sweet whipped cream caressing my lips

melting on my tongue

on a cold stormy night

when only the howling wind could be heard

i remember branches drumming

against the windows

raindrops falling all around

until they became one

cascading down from the heavens above

bursting into tears

sorrows that never drown

i remember sipping hot ginger tea

molding my soul

from the evergrowing shades of darkness

the penetrating icyness

the frostbitten lips

i remember collecting walnuts,

and hazelnuts so fresh and milky white at first bite

saving them all through the winter

while waiting for the sun to come out again

and warm me from within

melting frozen birds, hopes, dreams and toes.

Press Play.

The American Dream: Sun setting over Highway 101, California from GypsyTales

We pretend

Press erase and rewind

Recording the same scenario over

over and over again

just different faces, places and spaces

One more time

while we're falling behind

ignoring the cuts that are still open

we never take time to heal

Somehow in the midst of the games we play

we reach out 

we stumble, tumble and fall

while we crawl 

looking up this time

there's a hand reached out in front of us

And this time 

we take it

walking next to what was always there

just that we forgot to look up

filling our eyes with dirt instead

thinking there was nothing more (for us)

Taking it for granted 

it would be the same

making all the same mistakes

every time we pressed play

Whispers of this time.

our eyes see clearly now 

we rubbed away the dirt

maybe looking closer

there's more to discover

Maybe this time, 

if we don't look back

we won't be running

staying in the moment
Nothing will ever be the same.
An empty change yet to unfold

the unexpected expected.

Playa de Santiago, La Gomera from Gypsy Tales

in the midst of the cool calm

something expected yet so unexpected came to pass

having watched the sea curve in and out 

....forever...

knowing the point of no return and every little break

sand polishing through rough edges

....in time....

only smoothness left

footprints in the sand

washed away by the changing tide

it was expected.

Fragile, gentle yet with a spine 

that springs right back

every time it is bent

and should the wind grab it;

it dances away with grace through the turmoil

like a feather in the eye of the storm.

Forever falling

mesmerized staring into the pink blue skies

walking along the sand

time is frozen

something so unexpected

something which had been expected yet forgotten.

the pain of thinking perhaps, maybe, but not (for me).

and yet here it was 

so surreal, it had to be real.

dawn.

Everchanging misty skies of Ouilida, Morocco from GypsyTalesTM

everchanging skies

in the veil of dusk 

before the night swallows 

the last ray of light

cuts that heal

in the cool of the night 

another dawn

another chance 

to begin again

those penetrating 

painful 

moments in time

that we thought
would break us

...they flew away
on the wings of love 

evaporating
into the morning mist

the first streak
of shining glimmer 

tearing up the morning sky

the fragility of night begone

fading
into neverland

in light, can be no darkness.

Shine.

Southern charm of Charleston, South Carolina from GypsyTales™

Sunshine fills my hair
There's dreams in the air
Magic everywhere

No need to hide
No need to worry
You can go higher

Let's kill tomorrow
Embrace today
Play forever under the stars

With every step you get a lil closer
Seduced by the light
Every moment lasts forever

Throw it all
Out the window
Watch it fly away

Escape the storms
Kiss the rain
Come tumbling down

There are no boundaries
Climb every mountain
You can go higher