Seriously kids, sometimes the pull to write is Spirit/ual. Often my focus is on One thing alone = me + You. Making this writing thing the least or most narcissistic activity I have ever adventured. I’m sorry? But seriously, i’m not the slightest bit sorry that i write You so often and feel so damn much.
Jesus? I change everyday too. Every day that I am Single and alive, my body changes as a child does. My brain still leans in to learn like that of a child, I listen for the same lessons we all seek. I feel them before I think, hear, smell, see or know.
Or are all the
the other way
this merry-go round,
People tell me I am brilliant, brave and the brevity from/to/for God inside here is EXTREME. My roots may sink deeper than some may sum, but God? I don’t even know Who that is! And I’ve been searching for almost 38 years as an empathic and telepathic, living one giant science experiment. I feel You, man’!
I do, and whether you want that or not I am going to feel you before I see you. I love You too, and THAT label of an emotion is stranger than fiction to believe. Love?
But.. we’ve never met?!?
Damn, I’m sorry if I see You. I listen for your movement and when your heart thinks of me too, I can feel You too. You don’t even have to say a word, though you mother may i (and please do)!
Then, if it’s right, or write, or wrong, you got Us both thinking and feeling about You (or me?). Its ESPecially weird when all that happens.
Stop thinking of me? LOL!
“in Jesus! name I pray, Amen!”
p.s. Like me or not, Jesus! carries all my, “assumption of risk”, and Jesus was MY BEST Story. Hell, Jesus will be the best man at my Wedding! LOL
After years of written entries in this diary, I learned that they quit on me again. They fired me up, I fired back, and I’m not sure yet what that all means. When it comes to reasons for change, the question will always be what next?
Today, there’s a next day, a next morning and an, “I’m sorry, but the damage is done.” That damage is also part of the joy, the ecstasy and these intensional changes that may lead to my departure
from San Diego for a lifetime. It’s my life and it’s time for this Bird to fly solo again…
Who am I?
Why am I here?
These are the questions of my lifetime. The questions all my friends and family want to answer during their life. If I may, who are you now and why are you reading this today?
Were I to answer this question today? My life answers have meant becoming a healer, a coach, a professional, a Reverend, an artist, a vocalist, an actor, a human resource, and one sovereign nation “under God.” It’s sorta funny actually, one little
girl : boy from white Idaho turned out to be One black-sheep of a traveling sovereign nation that I call Birdanity.
Birdanity? Here and accounted for in these United State of America. But, I am not “under” God, I am not “over” God, nor am I any bigger, better or faster than the God of my understanding. I have faith that “my” God is bigger, better and faster than I am. I also have faith that my diary from 1987 was a pretty accurate reflection of who I am today, and who I will also become.
I really do wonder on this good Friday of rest for my brain and release for my heart. Today is my “vacation” day. Today is my next day after a day that changed my life.
Do you feel me?
Do you read me?
Come in, over….
Do you copy?
~Stephanie Bird, circa 2018
This is where my Dad tells me to go…
if ever there is a problem I cannot solve, a solution I cannot find, this is the book my Dad said I should consult. Anywhere in this “good book” is good because it is the Holy Bible and according to my Dad the farmer’s son (and the man who is also love to the world), this book is LOVE. This is his book, he loves it and that’s my Jesus bookmark from the Mystical Life of Jesus that I am living out today from the book of Daniel while reading the book of Daniel.
Here i am in that book, and today it’s about Daniel. Today it’s even about Daniel’s confession and prayer to God. It’s Daniel’s vision even, one about a ram and a goat.
Rams and goats? Sounds like a game, and I’m not sure about all that yet, but I have, “Discover(ed) how extraordinary you really are,” (or so they tell us). I did discover how extraordinary I really am and that kind of power is worth?
Nothing, actually because we all have it in us. This thing called love. We all have at least a little bit of life and love left in us to give. To forgive. To love?
Do you love me?
Do you love me now?
Writing for You?
It’s 5am again and here I am, seeking You here. I look for you everywhere, even when I know that You don’t exist. Or do You? Clearly, you do because You are reading this and good morning to you too,
I lost an earring yesterday and serendipitously, it reminded me of an old story I heard when I was a kid. One about a woman who lost one gold coin among many, yet she searched for it as though it were her child. That’s how I feel too, and when I write that I search for You here, yet never find You. There are gold (and diamonds) everywhere, but Yours is the only One Piece of Gold that I want to find here.
my precious Sky, I am a golden retriever too. A golden retriever who.. needs some dental work and a long vacation from an already vacation-filled destination of a stress-filled life. No complaints really, but this ache for One piece of gold among many is speaking to me softly (and them’s good words).
~Stephanie Bird (+ Sky)
Just for a moment…
I will believe that LuckY#188 will find You,
Let it be this sentence, let it be this phrase, this art on a map of Big Sur and this statement that keeps You, coming back with commas and words about this art-work and sketches and one-of-a-kind paint/brushes. Let today and tomorrow and the next day after be the day that you read this art-filled statement and you say something back about
Just for a moment, can we feel Lucky#188 together?
Well I’m not sure I believe in LUCK either, truly, but,
Comma, *gulp* I do believe in love…in everyOne,
I believe in Lucky#188 posts of letters to You,
So just for a moment, let it be Lucky#188
Let You, be Lucky#188 to me,
Lucky that I found You,
I am not sure who
she is either,
but this wo.man “says” she loves me in poems.
from Cali, it’s freaky Friday.. quite frankly, comma, **gulp**.
Legally, I’m not allowed to write to You. I’m not allowed to tell You that I love you. I’m not allowed to reach out or touch anyone with that message of hope. These days, it’s almost like I’m not even allowed to think of you either. Thinking should have been rule #One if You want to talk full control, but,
Case in point, the fact is that this poem is for You, legally and time permitted. I wrote You another love letter that further solidified the very fundamental certainly certainty that I am *NUTS* about You, even when I was a nutty Bird you didn’t even want to know.
Those are the facts of a Case that isn’t a very legal One at all and because I wrote way too0000ooo000ooo many love letters to: You, that further solidified the very fundamental certainty that I am certainly *CRAZY* about You, even when I was called a nutty Bird. No worries…
The fact is…
I write to You,