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I am falling, floating, flying. No, not quite yet. I froze for a day, staying in limbo, not telling anyone where I was.

I have baggage; 3 bags to be specific, and I have my body, my magical boots and a top hat. Materially everything I own, including myself, weighs less than 300 pounds. The woman checking me in to my flight gave me a discount on my baggage when I told her I was moving cross country. I walked through security and transferred myself into the window seat of row 8. Whimpers and sobs of twin babies behind my seat kept me aware of the flight I was about to take. I gazed out the window as the plane taxied and took off, into a beautiful California sunset; we emerged from the clouds, which masked the city, the vibrancy of orange and deep red slashing the sky where the clouds hugged the horizon, fading into a dark night sky and the Big Dipper. I got lost in Pink Floyd, and started sketching some of my friend’s faces for a new idea with StrawberryPropaganda.

This morning, I woke up unrested, a certain melancholy enveloped me, as if this limbo state might not ever leave. My grandma cooked breakfast and we chatted about her health, her favorite recent movies and I helped her with her IPad. I love my grandma and I’m appreciative that she has opened her home for me, giving me the entire basement so I can focus, free of distractions on art and my future.

If I had stayed in California for another week, I would have lived in Los Angeles for 8 years. I reflect on the girl who jumped in her car and drove in 3 days to land in a world of palm trees and movie stars. I had a dream, though it didn’t happen, I have started something greater than I expected, a dream I had long before I modified my thoughts for others. Before I headed for the airport, I stopped by to see my friend Vance at Light on Lotus in Mar Vista. We met just 2 years ago while I was reeling from being punched and the blame people tend to place on victims. We wrapped up in a big hug and he exclaimed at the confident woman I am today. I thanked him for all the times he forced me to do yoga when I felt no energy and the stepping stones that gave me strength.

Three years ago, just before I moved to MarsVista, I wrote in my journal that I wanted to know why on the deepest level, I chose him, and an unwritten desire hung between the pages: I wanted to feel real love.

I was referencing my ex-husband, a complacent life where truth was dictated and I was always to be blamed. I have spent every day since removing his voice and replacing it with full acceptance of myself, the feeling of looking into a mirror and loving even the shadows where the work in progress sign hangs. I have remained open as a gift to myself. I have fallen, each time standing back up, adjusting my top hat and placing my right foot in front of my left. I learned new steps for walking, learning to let my crown reach for the blue sky. My body, once had belonged to the masses, is now grounded steadily in a singular I. My eyes which used to be glued to abstractions, now gleam authentic realities and truths which used to escape me.

I’m told that the evolution in my art is astonishing, my story inspiring. I’m only playing, cultivating my skills, sharpening my wit, expanding my perspective so that I can use love and art to break down walls. My past has fueled me, I would rather each human know that they are capable, whole and that love everyone seeks is already inside.

Perfection only exists as a mirage, causing us to grasp for things which we think we are destined to hold. Being broken down, stripped bare with only a mind and knowledge to stand on is the greatest gift I have ever received. I’m empty in a way I’ve never known, buzzing with energy and consciousness that what I’m about to fill myself with is that real pure love I’d always wanted to feel.

Now begins the healing, the rebuilding of my foundation, a clean slate. For now, I’m letting my second foot leave the ground and I’m settling into my Grandmother’s basement.

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