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© 2019 by EveryDay Sacred

  • Veronica Valles

Go On Dreamer - A 2018 Journal Entry


July 29, 2018

Mudsmith’s

My old haunt.


Writing at Mudsmith’s with the mounted deer heads looming even though they do not seem to be annoyed with their demise.


Sweet intoxicant coursing through my veins – a Mudslinger. Espresso dancing with a shot of vanilla with ½ and ½. A tiny Almond Croissant that I have learned not to judge because I am always pleasantly surprised by the potent deliciousness.


Energies surging through the universe.


Today I am energized. Yesterday, you would have thought I did some binge-drinking with Anthony Bourdain. Exhausted from having gone to bed at 11pm after a joyous evening in a reunion with friends. As much as I proclaimed my strength and well-being, I still had to take a nap. Five, interrupted hours of sleep.


(He just called out the name of the One I am in love with. What are the odds of that? The Universe is cruel.)


My mind has been tossing and turning. As much as I am aware, the subconscious has some little critters that seem hell bent on taunting me. Nothing dramatic, mind you. Yesterday really was just about more sleep. But I notice twinges of memories that sting like a quick hit of a teeny tiny mosquito. Bam!


OMG..I must say..these croissants are out of this world.


People roll in with the looming, rusted metal door that creeks like a Vincent Price horror movie. No need for WD 40. That would take the charm away.


I sip slowly my Mudslinger. I do not mix it with the croissant. Each deserves my adoration and mindful awareness. Letting it linger like a lover, I sit with it all.


Sensuality is my word for the year.


How I truly wish it was my lover.


Until then…I savor it.


The line rolls on and on. College students. Older neighbors. Tattoos telling their own stories. Visual moments literally inked for this brief rendezvous on that very impermanent body.


A longing lingers. Not just for a kiss or the sweet embrace of my Beloved who has not arrived. Something deeper is stirring. I have to be mindful of the universal energies that are literally in a torrent right now. Unseen forces that can mess impersonally with electric grids and people’s emotional body. Energy dancing with energy. Swirling and twirling like the eclectic aurora borealis. Hues of our humanity painted by invisible, quantum messengers of Light.


Every time I watch Anthony Bourdain’s “Parts Unknown” on my DVR, a pain hits my heart. I am not unique to this. I go on the show’s Facebook page and people pour out their mourning in a public display of shock and hurt that still moves through each one of us. What was it about Anthony and this show that has us literally craving for more? Why do I get so pissed off at him every time I shared a half of a beer with my mother in homage to him?


Deep is calling deep.


I have always wanted to see the world. Have the dust of every nation intertwined with my hiking boots. To imprint upon my soul the stories of the God-expressions – people – unique to each culture and location. To meet the Divine everywhere I go in disguise. To taste so deliciously the cuisines that are home-cooking favorites.


Last night as I watched the show, another name came up for a travel series for myself – "Home." Everywhere I go is home for someone. I want to know what it feels like even though I could truly never know. I want to touch the edge of their day with my senses and camera and bring to the world their stories. I have longed for this since I was a child.


Tossing and turning in bed, arguing with my mind to settle down and get on with the sleep process, this turbulence is a creative energy seeking to be expressed.


I can no longer live in conformity repressed. Wait. I can no longer live according to other’s expectations and bat off their projections and perceptions. I have to be ME. Undeniably, deliriously GOOD. I have to be able to stand on my own. Literally, that is why my feet ache.


(Young woman in long flowing, brown, white, baby blue and peach stripes with a smile on her face waits for her coffee near the barista. What are her dreams? As she walks near to get her napkins and utensils.)


Life, in all of it’s delicacies and intricate worlds that weave. We all meet here but we are not connected. (Except that flowing striped dress gal just hugged her cute friend in black with short hair). Just a drive by hug. Sweet.


Connections. We create connections every where we are and go. Everyone we meet we become entangled. The quantum Physicists will tell you that. You. Me. This word. That hug. The kiss.


(They call the "One I love"'s name again. How many times have I called out for her and she never returned my voice’s longing for love?)


I digress.


I could have never predicted where I am at in my life. I never imagined teaching 800 children weekly Mindfulness in three, East Dallas schools. I never thought I would still be struggling to meet a professional salary. I must let go of that consciousness that holds on to the energy or the word, “struggle.” Move to – All is well NOW. All of my needs are met now. As my needs expand so does my bank account balance. NOW. I receive. I accept. YES. YES. YES.


Let’s see.


Hmmm. That phrase has some doubt in it.


I SEE IT NOW.


Notice the difference?


Back to Bourdain, my brother who I never met. My best friend who betrayed me and his family and following with self-inflicted death. His mind. His curiosity. His storytelling. His ability to connect.


I don’t want to be ANTHONY.


I AM that I AM. Veronica. This soul expression in a swirl of condensed energy that is named Veronica.


I do have a gift. I love BIG. I am kind. I see GOD everywhere I go unless of course you are causing harm (like the 20 -year old boys across the street whose little blue bag of drugs floated to our yard. I will attain enlightenment when I can see the Divine in them.)


As Bourdain was in Senegal, a country in West Africa that I only know by name, I was enchanted by the people he sat with and exchanged thoughts. The dirt lined streets and worn out buildings who could recite love poems of the masses, he walks the streets for the next meal as the reveal of culture. We would have never met them if it wasn’t for him. Even one guy worked in the same restaurant as Anthony did in NYC many, many moons ago. What are the chances of that?


I pour out these thoughts as a messenger for all of us to wake up to our dreams. In this collection of thoughts, I weave my dreams into being as a mirror to you. When we are inspired by people, take that as a universal sign to get on with your groove. Find your way. Stop living for sequential paychecks or parental approval. You have only ONE life. If Anthony Bourdain taught you anything is that this moment is all that you have. Life will provide you opportunities to make significant choices that can turn you from a drug addicted restaurant employee to chef to writer to world traveler. Who knows?


Imagine if Anthony had not followed the impulse to write Kitchen Confidential exposing the underbelly of the restaurant industry while illuminating the unsung heroes behind that plate sitting in front of you of organized art and sustenance.


Imagine if he had stayed stuck in a caricature of the behind the scenes, grueling moments of chefs or restaurant owners instead of allowing his muse out of the bag as he did.


Imagine if he said "no" to all of those television show offers. Who would you be now without that curiosity stoked and the nagging dream seeking to be freed?


There are no accidents in this world. We choose it all. What we let in. What we let out. What we face. What we avoid. We choose our life. One thought at a time. One left or right turn, zig zag or turned upside down. We choose. In every moment. YES…..we do.


If you don’t believe me then see what it is that you are sitting with that is annoying the shit out of you. What feels like a 300 pound gorilla on your chest or the tug taking you deeper into the abyss of depression, your head barely above water, because you won’t listen? You simply won’t listen. HEY..why are you NOT listening?


Wake up, dear ones.


Your dreams are calling.


Don’t worry about being a multi-millionare or the next Anthony or Oprah. You will fail miserably if that is your intention.


Be magnificently, fabulously YOU.


When you see the kitchen crew of a restaurant, give them a Thank you. When your waiter or waitress arrives, treat them respect. They could be the next Anthony Bourdain, Elizabeth Gilbert or Cheryl Strayed. Don’t respect them for that though. Fame is elusive and ephemeral. Be kind for the sake of being KIND to another human being, to a Light disguised in a body dressed up as a character, for their dreams needing extra light to burst out of the seed.


In the end of it all, may you have lived from the deepest LOVE and curiosity. May you have walked many miles in someone else’s shoes or point of view. May you have found your real home – within. Everywhere you ARE.


Go ahead, dreamer.


Go ahead.


I know you are waiting for permission.


Look at me.


Yes…right now.


Look into my eyes.


Say, “I love myself. Just the way I am.”


When your dreams come knocking at your door in the expression of someone on TV or your Beloved, simply say, “Yes, dear.” For that is GOD knocking AS your heart.


Yes, dear.


Go on now.


Get up from this journal page.


Set it aside and write that story you have been wanting to write.


Dance that dance.


Create your first product and don’t worry about the rest.


Just move in the direction of your intentions pulled by the vision.


Yes, dear one, remember, that you are loved.


Always.


Loved.

10:22am

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