The Artist…

Oh, to be an Artist.

holding self painted picture

Accepting My Fate…

I’ve discovered over the years that being an Artist is a very special thing indeed. We’re meant to bear the emotions, thoughts, opinions, and movement of society’s consciousness on our bare shoulders. The degree to which we expose our barest human nature depends heavily on the courage (or what some would consider to be the “insanity level”) of the particular Artist.

As a singer, I’ve definitely had my cross to bear. Being looked at differently. Considered differently. Made to feel differently. I’ve learned recently to truly accept and uphold this position… though I’m still discovering what exactly my role is as a living, functioning creative Artist.

I don’t consider myself to be one of the zanier grapes of the bunch. My art is not often infused in a painting (although I did try that for the first time a few days ago), nor is it always held together by a song (I have a few of those, but none I would consider to be mind altering).

Alas, my art is in connection. Communication. A viewpoint. Channeling emotion. That is my gift. My art. The ability to fuse human experience and give people the sense that they are not alone in this life. That they are understood. That they are connected. I do this through conversation. In being there with the person. In listening. In giving of my time. Through my voice. And the written word.

The combination of elements is different with every encounter. Sometimes it’s stronger than other times, but it’s always there. Always ready to fuse, to connect, to elevate, and to re-familiarize. I carry light. And shed it with every encounter. I’m at my best when I can give it away freely and in copious amounts. And I thrive off of seeing that light shine back at me.

For me, this is being an Artist.

Posted in Beauty, Connection, Grateful, Letting Go, Movement, Realization | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Coming Full Circle…

It’s truly fulfilling to give back…

moms audition

“On her way…”

Last year I described my mother as a piece of work… well, she most certainly is. She’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before. This creative being took a chance and made it through her very first audition ever. At the age of 67.

After years of sending me to voice lessons, acting lessons, saxophone lessons, dance recitals, local pageants, national anthem performances, television appearances, radio interviews, and solo concerts, I finally experienced the thrill of bringing my mother to her own creative space.

She was excited. And nervous. And brilliant. I dropped her off and left her to her own devices. She shined like the bright star I know she is. She gave me a *high-5!* and laughed with joy in her eyes and radiance in her smile. Our shared moment resonated in my heart as I watched her spread her wings and fly.

A few hours later, I came back to the audition to pick her up and catch a sneak peek at what she had accomplished. She looked like any other concentrated performer I had witnessed at the numerous grueling auditions I had experienced over the years.  She looked like a reflection of me.

As I saw her dance, I felt the impulse of energy, time, and good intention that my mother had tirelessly sent my way come full circle. Suddenly I was the one giving. She was the one receiving. I felt so proud of her. Proud of myself. That after all we had been through together, I could stand there and radiate a force of genuine love for this woman. To uplift her. To give her strength. To give her the chance she never thought she had.

Posted in Beauty, Celebration, Connection, Faith, Fun, Grateful, Letting Go, Love, Movement, Realization | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The Future Is Here…

I sometimes toy with the question,
“What new technology will my little brother experience by the time he retires?”

man with rock

Tools of the Future…

After the iPad came out, I knew we had experienced a head on collision with the future. I saw before me an age where young children would no longer look into text books or learn cursive on a piece of paper. They would learn everything from their handheld tablet. They would manipulate objects in midair, experiencing a purely 3 dimensional world. They would tap a little broach on their shirt and be instantly connected with Starship Command.

Every day I’m coming into direct contact with more technology that once existed purely in our imaginations. Somehow, in my lifetime, we went from cave people with rotary phones to holding our entire worlds in the palm of our hands.

My favorite Fuzz shared with me a link to a TED Talk that showed us a glimpse of the next realm. I’d like to share it with you in the link below. And as you watch, think about where we were just a few short years ago. And with the leaps and bounds we’ve accomplished so far, who knows what my brother (and the generations yet to come) will experience and discover.

Pranav Mistry: The thrilling potential of SixthSense technology

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Open Window…

The minute my skin starts to prickle from the cool morning air,
the windows are the first thing on my mind.

Window open to the world


The temperatures have grown cooler here in Phoenix, and we now engage in one of my favorite simple pleasures – opening all the windows. It’s incredible how this can change the entire mood of our home. Everything feels lighter, the air is crisp and fresh, even the walls begin to glow. We’re still experiencing 100+ degree weather despite it being the first week of October. As the morning grows older and it starts to warm up inside the house, I feel a twinge of sadness knowing I have to shut my portals to the outside world.

When I was growing up, opening windows, doors, and being outside was NOT ALLOWED. I figured my parents were only doing their duty of protecting their children. I was a typical latchkey kid who was often in our home alone. They were concerned that an open window was like an invitation for unwanted predators. Plus, being in Arizona means that you spend about half of your year confined to an air conditioned cocoon. Escaping the brutal desert heat is the only way to survive.

When I moved to Europe, I recognized that open windows are a way of life. Even in the dead of winter with the snow swishing around, I found people opening their windows simply to invite the elements in, even if just for a brief moment. It was like a reset. Start over. A reminder that we are not isolated from nature, but that we are a part of a larger whole. It is such a beautiful experience.

When I returned to my homeland, I saw that not a lot of people take advantage of their windows. In fact, many act as if they are afraid of them. They cover them up with blinds that remain closed throughout the most brilliant of mornings. Shades are drawn, air conditioning blasts away, and the locks remain just as they were when they were first installed.

Why do we do this? Why do we confine ourselves to the comfort of what we know? Why are we so afraid of opening ourselves to the outside world? Why do we neglect all that surrounds us and gives us a sense of who we really are?

If you happen to be reading this, look at a nearby window. If it is still closed, take a moment to view your window as a possibility. An opportunity to breathe in a new chance. Walk to it and open it. Look outside. Feel the sweet air wash over you. And smile.

Share this simple joy with me.

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Gracias Por Su Creación…

The Philippines was ruled by the Spaniards for over 300 years.

art from carlos navarrete

“A reflection of our shared heritage…”
Artist: Carlos Navarette

I am a part of them, just as they are a part of me. My skin is somewhat light because of them. Though I am 100% Pilipina, many people looked confused when I explain to them that my DNA is not mixed.

I discovered some incredible Latin artwork today. The creators also hold an entity of Spanish inside their bones, though they are not from the Philippine Islands. Their vision spoke to me. Their heritage. The way the culture captivated me through their expression. I could relate to the boldness. The colors. The vibrancy. The pride. The fear of being vulnerable. The longing to be understood.

Though we historically come from vastly different regions of the world, we speak the same unspoken language. Their body of work translated itself before me, and I responded. I coveted great respect. I was honored.

Esperanza Gama.
Jose Andres Giron.
Cristina Cardenas.
Carlos Navarrete.

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I haven’t embarrassed myself like that in a long time…


“I was really relaxed…”

My recent move had me searching for a new massage therapist closer to home. On the invitation of my stepmom, we checked out the nearby Massage Envy. I made an appointment for a deep tissue massage. When asked if I wanted a male or female therapist, I chose as I always do – I chose a man.

I have no qualms with being rubbed down by a male masseur. They generally have bigger hands, meaning they have more surface area with which to reach more muscles. Men also are generally bigger and more muscular than their female counterparts, and lend themselves to a more intensive, deeper pressure. Though I’m housed in a little body, my muscles have learned the art of petrification. I need a serious deep tissue to feel like I accomplished anything in my session.

On the day of my appointment, I came in hoping I wouldn’t be disappointed with my massage. Some masseurs look and say they’re great at what they do. More often than not, I walk away wishing I had saved my money. But the moment the masseur worked his magic on my jaw, breaking down years of tension and stress, I knew I had found my guy.

Halfway through the session, I began chatting away about how stress wreaks havoc on my shoulders and neck. The therapist listened intently and educated me about various muscle groups. Our conversation was light and enjoyable, and I felt comfortable to the utmost degree. My massage had cast me into a euphoric cloud and words just started to slip out. Everything was perfect. That is until…

“I want to give my clients the best session possible,” claimed Mr. Massage. “I do my best to know what I’m talking about, so I learn as much as I can about how muscles are connected and what I can do to help people feel better. I get pretty anal about knowing all this stuff.”

Just as therapist began massaging my lower back, I blurted out in response, “Oh! I can appreciate anal!”


I wanted to sink into the table, never to return. But alas, the table was cruel and unkind and did not grant me my desperate wish. Instead, we laughed every bit of awkwardness away, and I ended my session with two treasures – the best massage I’ve had in a loooooong time and my most embarrassing moment… EVER.

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A Much Needed Break…

I didn’t post last Wednesday…

a river on an island of Kauai


I didn’t post the Wednesday before that either.

Wave of Kauai


And, honey, did it FEEL GOOD. I think I felt guilty a couple of times that first Wednesday. The second time my designated day of blog posting came around, I don’t recall if I flinched even once. That’s what happens when you’re on vacation… or maybe just when your scalp gets really sunburned.

Fuzz and I flew the wide Pacific to an island garden by the name of Kaua’i. A place where the feral chickens run free, spam masubi is a-plenty, and the ocean water turns multiple shades of blue, green, and grey throughout a 24-hour period. It was a nice and much needed break after the maniacal moving and shifting that had been going on in my life.

I am most grateful for such an opportunity to reset and refill my needy soul with vastly different experiences from those I normally collect in the desert. Rather than give you indigestion with the details, allow me to share with you the precious visions I encountered throughout my travel.

Sending you off with Aloha…

“A sunrise to Greet Thee…”

island ocean

“Coastal Shores…”

island chicken

“Chicken of the Sea…”

Waterfall on the island

“Fall Free…”

ocean view on the island

“Inspiration as far as the eye can see…”

the coast

“Cathedral Coast of Na Pali by sea…”

coast line of the water

“Cathedral Coast of Na Pali by air…”

island paradise

“Land and Ocean…”

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