Prayer = WORK!

Prayer = WORK!


Prayer = WORK?

Prayer work? I have been praying for work every single day since I started breathing. I have been meditating and praying for all my family and friends. I  pray for their health, then I pray for peace on their Earth. Still, this life hasn’t felt as peaceful as heaven could.

Heaven sent yesterday, I could see that my friend Frank was hurting. I wanted to feel compassion for him, but I couldn’t even look him in the eye. Doing so reminded me too much of when his words cut to my core like a knife to my own heart.

The story? A few weeks ago, Frank knew exactly what to say to take my breath away. He told me I was a terrible influence, a horrible facilitator and a rotten leader. He said I don’t have what it takes to survive and thrive, then he spat on my grave when he asked me to leave “his place”.

A break up of friends. A death of a legacy story. That’s how it felt back then anyway.

But, all that wasn’t true?…

Not a lick of it seemed true yesterday when Frank walked up to take his P.C. (which ironically, wasn’t PC). All that wasn’t true when I could feel his apprehension and fear at my very presence. We sat down on a park bench, then he told me a personal story about the trauma he felt when his neighbor shot his other neighbor over shrubs.

Confirming again to him that I only have two weakly loaded muscles for guns did nothing, it was clear that neighborly trauma never left him. He’s still scared of angry people, and his body was literally shaking for fear of death.

Understandably so, we have hurt one another deeply with our words. We cut each other’s stories up and fed the ashes to the sky. We even publicly humiliated one another, which is demeaning and perhaps a leading cause of immortality.

This immortal heavenly body inside me? I want to believe in losing a fear of a spiritual death. I have to pray that “I” will go on after “I” go off. If it’s not, I am sick to death of believing in the Justice that doesn’t exist and each man’s unique version of right and wrong. Sick of waiting for that WRITE day to come when Justice will be served.

Facing fear, yesterday needed to be the write day to lay down any arms Frank felt that I carried. It needed to be my honest day when I told Frank that I’m sorry too, and I need a friend too. Frank and I are still friends, I hope.

Today though? I need to drink water, eat food, exercise, mail my grandpa a package for his birthday, then write and color again about these fears and traumas.

“Love = Fear” is what keeps me writing these posts about fear. Fear is my BFF for life, it whispers secrets in my ear and holds my hand at night. It’s everything beautiful and perfect and lovely and angelic about this world I have chosen to embrace.

Fear = Love.

Am I always so Dead to the world? I’ve never felt so 100% alive. Alive is the way I have felt for a while now, perhaps since death has come and gone so many times in my own life. The door is open to all those laughable fears (and life is nothing to be super stressed about).

Speaking of stress, want to go for a walk with me to go play? at the park? I feel like I need a swing today..

~Steph Bird




Here i gOooo…

Creating things? I.t.s healing to me. It’s white and blackbird of me. It’s artistic, autistic, and BEautifully uniquely “me”. This is Card#One of Birdanity Deck#One titled “Take My Hand 🤚 & RUN 🏃‍♀️ 🏃 ♪( ´θ`)”

Secret? I made it when I was trying to figure out my heart conditioning. It’s when I was healing from the last heart break. It’s ARTfully weird?


“Take my hand 🤚 and run 🏃 🏃‍♀️”

<Ka!Ka!🦅 >

#birdanity #birdanityart #birdanitygame #birdanitywords #notforsaleortrade #copywrongtowrite #write #create #art #artoninstagram #birdanitytarot4kids_deckOne_cardOne #cardgames #games #gamestop #love #kidsgames #spiritforkids #spirit4kids #stillblessedyogi @stillblessedyogi #warrior #warriorsgame #lovingkids #lovinglife #lovinhwhatido #lovingwhoiam #lovingwhoimbecoming #lovingwhoyouare #insideandout #naturelovers #comfortableinmyownskin #skin #bruised #hurtinginside #kaka! #birdspirit #birdanityspirit





My Mother

would get upset

if I said this aloud,

but I called mY mother

today 18′

and never told her aLoud

I am having an episode




i never told her

i was in a TV episode(s),

staRRoraring “me”,

written by “me” and

Created by “yours, Truly”

My mother?

I never said anything

about “me”

instead we

talked about







mental health?

is a beautiful thing!

and this..

is a seriously

Animated episodE

of “my” life

as “steph Bird”


as these


colorS are vibrant

i ride these waves

with You,

in Spirit

(me + you = 8)

p.S. When my mother reads this,

she probably won’t get it

and that’s OK.

I got (me).

(that One time…)

p.s.S. The quick story tucked inside this poem is that like many of Us, i called my mom today. We talked flowers and art, then I wished her a happy Mother’s day. I also wished I could tell her the whole truth, and nothing but the truth (so help Us, God). Instead, I shared the parts that make Us happy because that’s how I want my Mother to feel love(d) + “happy”.

“What’s next?” is the question of her day and dear God, I have no idea what I’m going to do tomorrow, much less next ____. Maybe stare out into the sea for a while and watch the tides come and go as they will until i discover a solution. That’s about the only thing I feel is fairly certain, there will be tides of time (to stare)


Periods of Work?!? My mom asked me if I wanted to get a “traveling job” and I’m not quite sure what that is yet, but she’s usually pretty spot on. I even wrote down her prediction, and hell, why not travel more and do some “good” deeds around the world? It would be sweet to just get lost for a while (WITH SKY + 1), provided I have a little black box.

I want to be homefull, homeless, and I want to be a world famous flyer with a little black box in my hand. In the end, that’s all there will ever be with all these tiny little black boxes.

Except, for those beautiful

minds = tides of time.

Homeless, here I








Sitting down to write to “you”,

My universal network, these hands are shaking. Reaching into this network to ask for support. Me?

Yes, You,

After two decades of employment, all validated with professional recommendations and legally documented acknowledgements of my existence (via my LinkedIn profile and professional service) I am almost at a loss for stories. There’s a whole story there, but…

First, I am asking letting this Universal network know that I have this resume and I’ll be needing contract work doing a job that pays $_____ an hour. Literally, and in this reality where I live in Cardiff-by-the-Sea, I am passionate to “work”.

Second, I am asking this Universe for some advice? I need to know what to do next about a legacy workman’s comp and employment issue related to discrimination, harassment and violent Communication in that old workplace.

Finally, I would like to submit to yOur universe that I will eventually need a job, just like everyone else. i have been and always will be a servant in this game of thrones.

Brave warrior? People call me that, but i was a warrior before i ever started building this article and clicking a coded <PUBLISH> button (or some word you click). An article written by a warrior who created a before and after life status that was One and the same.

Stranger than fiction, wild and Birdanity, i am that today. I’ve been a Bird for 37 years now. A Bird <published> another article today, and I’ve been doing that since I was seven when I started writing in my diary and publishing my daily active wild mind.

Birds can write? Today, i am a writer and a singer of all these words after all of those thoughts about what kind of a warrior i should be to everyone else. i am a warrior with each first breath, each first step and all the moments i lived and died in between.

winner or loser?

i am the 1%

of the 99%

of the 100%

of people

who love people:

i love.

period. ALL of em’

And, as this Angel walks out that love-filled door to walk and work out my winner of a golden retriever, I was hoping you (god) could read this and help us out with the first (or second) question above? I need help today and I’ll keep this publication close to my heart until that “God-like” help comes…

Loving regards,

Stephanie Bird






Did anyone take their Universal Life Church ordination as seriously as I have when I became a minister sum years ago? Maybe that was the whole point of the ULC and their core tenants that ministers “must” uphold:

  1. Do only that which is right.
  2. Every individual is free to practice their religion however they like as long as their actions do not impinge upon the rights or freedoms of others and are in accordance with the law.

In either case, the ULC has made my life a sacred place today because I’m able to navigate to this online community where and when I’m not sure what else to do. Sitting with Lady Gaga to my right and Stephen Colbert to my left, these noble artists and I light candles together as fellow ministers of the cloth. Then after the ceremony, I scribble out some rules about candles.

Birdanity Rule #1

All humans are naturally endowed with the right write to control their own life (time).


Birdanity Rule #2

When you get _____, get up and go for a walk if you can.


Birdanity Rule #3

Seriously folks, go get some vitamin D if you can.


Birdanity Rule #4

Alright, alright, “you’ll go walk the dog now?”.


Birdanity Rule #5

Give thanks (a lot) today, and write some p.s.

~Stephanie Bird  (aka, p.s!)






The Beginning

This is it, my first book about my life. Right now, it fits into the palm of my hand and it reflect’s my image. There is only one version of that reflection, the original. “Me”.

Presently, I am the only one that feels this Birdanity book is worth it’s weight in gold. My weight, which is about 13? pounds of all that I am worth = nothing really (and priceless).

What i want to write about from every beginning is who I have been and how I got here. I seek to understand. I seek love, hate, education about love and compassion to feel.

What I don’t know about is the future for you. But, I still want to believe that I am the creator of my future. In this vein, I have decided to write a little differently than I ever have before.

This book continues then with the end in mind. I want to write about who I will meet (again), the relationship(s) I will have, and even the way I want to die. I want to imagine a different life than I have ever known before, believing a faith that I feel for the images in my head. I want to believe in big ways, larger than a tiny mustard seed.

With that, let’s just flip to the back of this Birdanity book and write the last few chapters. Perhaps even the last entry of this book because who knows if I will have time for more chapters or even whether I will wake up tomorrow.

Before I tell you that story though, I am going to sit in quiet for a time and dream about a future where I’m pretty certain you will be there and we will (all) be love(d) in The End.


The End

After I saw _______, I felt healed. All that came before him in that legacy book was lost in my memory banks. Only drawing from those stories when I need to tap into my savings account, withdrawals are rare though and encouraged.

Before we met, I was afraid that he didn’t really exist and because for 37 years I searched for someone just like him. State to state, name after name, I tried a lot of stories to find the right size of human for me.

He was the one who fit my constellation and we loved each other as the sun contrasts the moon. The moment we locked eyes, he took the dominant role in our vibrant connection and I played the supporting one. He came over, he hugged me, he asked for my new # and he even wanted to act like children. Children like Us.

He was beautiful on the inside and out, so gorgeous that I worry I dreamed him up and I will wake up to find he is missing again. But after all our years together and creating lovely weirdos just like us, he still wakes up next to me as happy as he ever was. I feel that happy too, loving this hu/man who loves me as he does.

I knew I was making the right decision when I said “yes” after he asked me that pop question. There was no question in my mind that our lives would last a lifetime of commitments. We worked hard to lovingly die together as two happy “soulmates” should. *Blech*

He still laughs at how emotional and dramatic I can become, and he makes me laugh too. He seems to know the right thing to say to calm me down and help me find the “right” way of letting go of that old drama we share.

It’s incredible to think of who I have become with him. Committed to exercise of all the senses, I am clean and balanced. Puffing my peace pipe and pouring my time each day into the love I feel for family and “work” in this universal life.

“A small lucky package is on it’s way to see you soon,” says our fortune, and why not agree? Let the luck keep on coming, spreading through our bodies and oozing into the people we love. Namely partners, family and friends.

It’s almost the end of this love life as we know it, when and where we often forget our own number, or even how to write down memories of all those days when I held judgment for who I was from The Beginning.

from Beginning_to_End


~Stephan/ie Bird

~Steph/an Bird





I first met Dennis after sitting on a park bench at San Elijo Lagoon. Before I go on (and on?), let me tell you that Dennis is 73, I am the opposite of his age at 37, and just between you as the reader and me as the writer, Dennis and I were a pair to behold sitting in that lagoon.

I only wish I had recorded our three hour conversation to transcribe it, as those were the loveliest 3 hours I have had in a very long time. I laughed harder than I cried, and for a sunburn’s worth of time we stared at the lagoon and out into the ocean, then squawked with each other.

After that conversation with Dennis, I didn’t feel like crying into my sheets anymore about work or my personal life. Instead, I felt like being brave and strong, like I already was and just like Dennis. I felt grounded about the future and present with life.

Dennis reminded me over and again that this little Bird’s life has only just begun, things are just getting better (or even best). He reminded me I have a sum of lovely friends and family who are wanting, willing and able to help if I need that kind of support. They love me, as I love them.

Dennis was love. Though I’ve never met him before yesterday, he sat there and conveyed grace and compassion for the human experience as only a wise 73-year old angel could. He reminded me that I am more than OK right now, I am loved, I am love, and I am only making this wide circle of friendships expand as I write to the people I love write now.

Is that “you, love”?

I’ll probably talk a bit more about Dennis in the future since he and I became fast friends. He’s a good soul and I have good intensions and even some training on how to be a friend (to the opposite sex) and so does he.

I think and feel that everything is going to be OK with Dennis. I even feel safe around him. And the cherry on top of this sugar, he said I could write whatever I want about him and whenever I want. He doesn’t care because he trusts me, or he doesn’t care what people think.

Either way, in those moments yesterday with Dennis, I also confirmed that this writing thing doesn’t really matter. It’s about where I allocate my time in the present. He’s right (about write), and I want to be his friend presently with hopes of an agape friendship.

Loving what is, I want to allocate some of my time to hearing more of Dennis’ story this Sunday when we have dinner at 4pm. Perhaps in that “free time” he can teach me a game or two, or I can teach him a sour game of cards. Games will be fun with friends.

And, “mother may I” tell you one more story about love?

I hesitate to write about people that I really adore more than words, but Dennis wasn’t the only person who helped me yesterday. My friend Jim and several of my friends are really stepping up after that old crazy Scorpio full moon burst my life into billions of shiney pieces.

James or Jim? He happens to be one of my best because he can handle when things get emotional. I don’t mention him much here because I feel a little embarrassed sometimes to write to, or about, my closest friends. Often wondering what they will think and whether I embarrass them with my side of these stories. My friend Brian is like that too, and my friend…

“Jess” and
“Jesse” and
Carlos and
Sonserai and
Mike and
TJ and
Pita and
Nick and
Martin and
Egan and
Chris and
Kris and
Robert and
KS and
Daniel and
Justin and
Denny and
Gordon and
Spencer and
John and
Alejandro and
Ali and
Alyssa and
Jeff and
Kent and
Scott and
Christine and
Heather and
Charlie and
Joseph and
Andrew and
Tom and
Shoja and
Max and
Sandy and
Brad and
Shannon and
Greg and
Michelle and
Jonathan and
Leah and
Anna and
Jen and
Anthony and
Marcos and
fill in the blank of friend’s name(s) here).
So, _friend_?

If you are out there, you have a “name” and “you” are reading this now…

huMan, thank you for being a friend. Feel free to shoot me a message to tell me to remove your identity or change your name or even your story @Birdanity. Either way, named or nameless, “you, friend” astound me with your wit, grace, humor and kindness.

And Jim or James, specifically? Though we’ve only known each other for _____, on my side of that story  and for every day I’ve known you, you’re one of the good “guys”.

If it weren’t for “you”,

I wouldn’t be “me”.

Kindest regards,


Steph Bird