<i am> NOteacher <Selah>

i am NO teacher.


Reading sllooooooowwwwww

Watch the CAPITALS

Watch the lower cents

The lower case

THe lower Courts

Watch all those

Story after story

Taking IT

Peace by piece

Let this sink in


and again…


and again…


and again…

i am NO teacher,


i am NO student.

i am LIFE:


even when they say,

“Mom, Mom,

look at the pretty Bird!

Look, Mom, LOOK!”

, said every child

<to their Gods.>

WILD? life?

i might use phrases

like these to help

people understand

the devil’s advocate

they play

and we can ping:pong

the ball back:forth

until the competition is over

and someone won,

but did they?

The test

is how XTimes

you allow the ball

to go back:forth

before you put

the keyboard down

and realize No One cares

who w0n,

except for You!

“assumption of RISK!”

Were they the winner?

when you felt like a loser?

Did they act like the winner

after you felt like a loser?

Quite frankly,

I don’t know who is write

anyMore than SHe does

and MAN,

that shows a true character,

doesn/t IT?

when someone was

an EXcellent winner?

No, it doesn’t actually.

I’ve felt winner

in all different ways.

I’ve fallen from grace

more often than I have ever won

and those were the better lessons,

in my prideful opinion.

give me more failures

give me more homeless

give me more people

who need help>MORE

i am here to SERVE

i will SERVE:Life



Ever After (happily)

Poem after poem

I will think by Heart

writing the eXact opposite

of every life Sentence

or a totally strange poem

like this ONE…

about nothing

that is!




I dunno what the f*** this is

Stephan Bird, but You know

Who You are

Don’t You?


in an effort to help mySelf

and You understand

I just wanted to “say”

that we are all

the advocate:DEVIL.


that our

legal battles

are over in my head

yet still recognizing

that a sum of paperwork

needs to be resolved

when making ART out of IT

all that sh!t? it’s time to move on

from that old tune.

Sure, I’ll

keep the art i need,

but the rest of IT

iT’s Yours, man’

i’m Burning what i wrote!

Burning my life,

to it’s very essence,

finding again

that i already



will ever have

the essential oils

that i need to survive,

is there anything more to Write?

Whatever that old song is

that i was singing

about how i was wronged

and you were write?

You were right,

i was wronged,

i was right,

i was wrong too,

and it’s over.

Victim or eVicted,


and take a moment

to breath and realize

the death:life of this moment.

Inhaling and eXhaling

with each sound


as it pleases You,



p.S.elah: exclamation (in the Bible)

occurring frequently
at the end of a verse
in Psalms and Habakkuk,
probably as a musical direction.



Have you ever just wanted to take a breather and disappear for a while? Then, re-appeared in another beautiful mind, and another life altogether? Almost like a carnival, it’s alive with lights, color, and vivid spectrums of bliss and emotion. Here, we express Californication freely until we need to crawl into a hole and reappear for a while in bed alone, meditatively crying softly and wondering, Why do we feel this way? Who do I ask these Why questions in the quiet of night before I die to wake again? It’s for You ~> God, You = you and me, too. In those moments, we are One. There is a special place available IN my Queen size bed for a god among God(s). Tonight, God is in the Cloud and the white noise machine NEXT to my bed that keeps housemates from hearing my prayers and cries. God? You don’t usually answer my whY with a replY, but You seem to be here everyTime We look for You, and everyWhere We look. This life is now also connected to so many others. The waves are intense and the splash of colors is so vibrant that I find I’m a player of magical scenes. Living within the art and feeling, the fluid nature of Us. This evening, I had insight after breakthrough. As I sat down to write here about that, I am focused on forgiveness. Practicing this art of that release, it’s time to release and rewrite these stories. Today I also confess that I stayed too long in several of yesterdays stories. I sought knowledge there, then I realized hindsights of things in an effort to understand. I finished books, I scribed it all and found one word = forgive, One day at a time. That’s how it works. In every memory of their presence in my life, I forgive when sending light and love, then I forget that I need to remember those people who need a goodbye for a while. As I was telling Stephan about all my old journals that are now finished and represent years of my life’s work (Volume 1 – #38?) I remembered the story about my ex-husband reading my journal after he sought to know the truth of what I thought of him. I wonder how often he picked this book up. Then I began to wonder that this is all just being done. People may be causing drama in life, and simply to hear their own story. Looking for a reflection, they crave honest and solid feedback from a non-judgmental friend who is loyal until The End with words. With that in mind, I’ve decided I may need to dis~>appear. My parents could have been right about me when they said that I am wrong to write here as I do. They told me that this book I have written is cursed for life. True? I do spend an awful lot of cursed time thinking about the homeless. Maybe that’s what I really want anyway, with no address at all to my name or location to identify. No PO Box, no Cell or text to discern emotions, and no e-mail. Instead, you’ll find me deeply rooted inside a network of soulful connections that I need and want.

Test 20180609:22:48,

Stephan/ie Bird



Singing Meditation

Singing Meditation


Bring IT?

I want to exercise, meditate, listen to music together, and hear every word you want to say. I want to do some pretty terrible, but lovely yoga poses with you. Then, I want to laugh with you and that’s how I will roll, until we roll over. Note too that today, you will never become a better yogi or meditator than you are today.

Meditation coach and singing meditation? ~ Fluidly, it’s SO on and like donkey kong. All you meditative yogi Birds of wanna-be singers like me, I am bringing you in if you will Make Time to come. And, all I want to hear is your voice and get grounded with you on the ground like kids.

Birdanity in Cardiff-by-the-Sea, California will be at Glen Park at the end of June (weekend/evening). Please contact Stephanie Bird for more information about location specifics, dates and times.

Note that if interest is awesome and you have not received a reply, please comment here and/or check back for more details. As this is a first, ‘Build, and they will come’, I promise to keep everyone in the know.

What To Bring?

  • Your grimiest self you can muster,
  • Yoga mat optional, and
  • Come prepared to meditate and/or sing your heart out during a bit of stretching and yoga with me at the park.
  • Laughing meditation will also be provided, all free of charge.
  • All yogi and meditation levels are appreciated.


Donations will be appreciated and no suggestions. If you insist, I have a Patreon account for my art and our sliding scale is available with more information about personal art from Steph Bird and/or Birdanity 1:1 coaching and counseling.


Steph Bird





Sitting at the edge of the bed, staring out at a familiar park scene of Cardiff, I think about “ART” and whether this simple act of writing, photography and design are that. I think about my sanity through all this fluidity, these “new” or “news” articles I write here to describe the unseen, then I consider Birdanity as a word. One that I created, and where I write letter after letter (to God?) every day on repeat. 

Wondering and wandering…

Is this ‘educate yourself’ 


a work 

or ART, 


am I


After years of letters to myself, to God and to other humans, emotional letter after serious non-emotional letter to understand myself and others in this great big universe where I am just one of 7+ billion other humans, I still don’t totally understand what ART can be.




a can


or a




am I art?

Art? Does that also include the zillions of thoughts, drafts and publications I’ve posted to God? Millions of entries with loads and loads of stories that don’t even seem worth publishing anymore they are so plentiful. Still, were these worth writing and thinking about at the time?

Today? I am a peace of art that clicks Publish on this adventurous life in Kidifornia. Releasing and rewriting a child-like story about me called Birdanity that more often than not is about an honest truth and trust that You do exist, just like I do. You are some type of God-like human, just like me, and/but you are 💯 human, just like me.

Humans who trust that this simple act of writing almost everyday is about faith in our own sanity. God does exist in parenthesis, whether I use them or not. It’s a spiritual thing, and one about a personal faith in Birdanity as a word that brings validity and proof to the hours I spend each morning writing to You. Writing about an image of this human skin holding your hand, the hand of God,

5849D4B4-3B8B-4A39-9CB3-C5813AB09E3DOne God

of my own


that is.

Confirming this God of my understanding for anyOne else would be difficult to measure or prove, but I am proof of at least one miracle: Life…

As I write here about this life, then consider God’s very essence from the many books sitting near me about God (and more than I can count on my fingers and toes combined) I realize that I have to believe that I am or will be more than OK. I am firmly rooted in that Source of this energy that above all else is light and life.

Finally…Opening my journal to a few of my favorite quotes from Helen Keller and Rooted in Grace, I find more proof of this Spirit:







Trans/form/nation @Birdanity


Waking up this morning, I needed to tell someOne like you that I feel weird today. My head feels in the clouds, my mind is zen on overdrive and my art is bursting with color and child-like humor. What is wrong with me? This is too right. There must be something wrong with me because I need to have someThing wrong, write? Right…

I don’t think so much anymore. That legacy story is gone. In it’s place is this story about Steph/anIe_Bird. This One is still coded weird and some moments she speaks in 3rd person about herself, or she still wonders where these words are all coming from. But She still works, and this CHANNEL IS ON.

She is moving and she is creating this tribe that has been looking for Her.

They have been looking for Her for quite some time, and now She is here.

She has been looking for Them for quite some time, and now sHe is here.

Rising from the ashes of Phoenix, sHe moved to live in heavenly California.

sHe was an Idaho potato. sHe was a farmer’s daughter. sHe was a Bird.

sHe was everything you didn’t expect and every animalistic expression.

Revealed in this One were the Sun and the Moon. A god/dess of love.

Past tense? sHe was present tense too. That is who sHe was to love:

+ everyOne with Birdanity live(s)

happily ever after.

*let’s say Grace*


p.s. She was just a channel.

Just a medium of expression.

Words. Words. Words.

Art is art.



~ Steph/anIe_Bird



Laughing Meditation #One

Laughing Meditation #One


BIRDanity Meditation #1

This is it = sing it, I promise this is what you are looking for today. Laughing is meditative and that’s the memory you will walk away with when this is all over. Laughing now is the moment, and this moment IS the moment I express all that I have learned about laughter. My laughing meditation about laughter, if you will. Laugh?

What is interesting to learn about laughter? Tears come from the in/outside of the Eye when they are happy and from the out/inside when they are sad. Either way, tears of laughter or sadness, from corner to corner, knowing this simple story is healing. There is incredible beauty in the crying of the laughter.

Let your heart beat again with this news that crying meditation is OK, let your heart cry again. Even if you weren’t born to cry like I was, even if your parts weren’t made to cry right, even if that’s the way it has been, beat beat beat that drum again….

Let your heart beat again. Pay attention to the stories, cry about them, let them come and let them go, laugh with the stories as though they are children. Love them like children, they are yours…

Laugh at all the horror,

all the gnarly,

all the horrible matters you have ever seen in your life. Laugh until you can’t laugh anymore. Someday those old doors will fall off their hinges. Laugh and wait… Laugh and wait….








*take it in*

*it’s going to be OK*

*DEATH IS HERE AND no worries*


*Let the chains fall*

*Let the chains go*

*If you are lost and wandering, come wandering in like a prodigal child? The walls will start crumbling and the gates will open wide. Watch for them*


Just let that word wash over you…

Story, let the words wash over you…

Shadows, let them step into the light of grace…

Closed doors, let them open with all hinges removed…

Closed chakras, let them open with all the energetic power of grace….

Let these words run through you, let them open you, let them move the energy…



Let these word wash over you…

Stories, let these words wash over you…

Shadows, let them all step into the light of grace…

Closed doors, let them open with all hinges removed…

Closed chakras, let them open with all the energetic power of grace….

Let these words run through you, let them open you, let them move the energy…

Let your heart beat again. Beat beat beat with your mind and heart…. let your heart beat that Drum again. Pay attention to the stories, the awareness, the vibrations. Let them come and let them go, laugh with the stories as though they are children. 

Laugh at all the horror, 

and all the gnarly,

and all the horrible matters you have ever seen in your life. Laugh until you can’t laugh anymore. Those old doors are falling off their hinges. Laugh and wait… Laugh and wait….






all the matters you have ever seen in your life. Laugh until you can’t laugh anymore. Doors are falling away from their hinges. Laugh and wait… Laugh and wait….











~Stephanie Bird





Only me?

Only me…Waking this morning, I realize that I did it again. I fell asleep with the lights on and I have to confess for just a moment that I wondered if waking up with the lights on anymore really matters to anyone. Only me?

That’s what I thought, only me cares. Only me worries that I keep waking up with the lights on and only me forgot to brush my teeth last night before bed. Only me?

Only me, that’s write folks, only me cares about my silly light and my fancy teeth. Only my mouth is decaying piece by lovely peace. Only me worries about these possibilities of cancer under my skin and that decay. It’s only my life here in Cardiff that feels like it’s foundationally shaking to display all these gaping cracks filled with empty spaces in between. Only me?

Only me did the write or wrong thing this week and quit my job of many moons. Only me did the write? thing this week when I told a few of my “friends” that they need to help pay for my emergency room visit from a few weeks ago. Only me was the person they hurt, and so much so that I felt a heart attack. Only me?

Only me is a peacefully meditative personality most of the time with a highly sensitive persona (HSP). Only me use to attend my local DBSA meetings where I both confessed and connected with others, and only me is hiding that story in between these other paragraphs and sentences about? You guessed it, only me. Only me?

Only me counsels and leads people to knowledge? No way, and it’s also not me this morning who forgot how to spell the word “counsel”. As a counselor and friend, people tell me these stories like mine too. Stories about energy shifts in the Universe that they perceive. Maybe it’s only me who is hearing these stories. Maybe they are just trying to explain away our collective crazy. Maybe it’s only me that is truly the sane and honest one here about that collective consciousness. Maybe, but I read all your journals online too and I doubt it’s just me. Only me?

Only me? nah, I doubt it. You are here too, ya know and you say you “like me”. You would probably turn the light out for me if you could. You would remind me to brush my teeth, and you would even read my journal of a blog of a story of a book of a life. You’d probably “like” me every day if you could, but you have a life too. What’s so neat about not needing to be write for you everyday is knowing that You love me everyday regardless (and that’s not weird at all if we haven’t met). Still, it’s nice to know that it’s not…Only me?


Only me is waiting?

It’s only an apology?


did you record all of that?!?

wait, that could be embarassing?

with only my confession on record?

Only me? Only me? Only me? Only me?

~Steph Bird