I wake naturally between 3-5am, ready for the sunrise. Beneath the last stars I sip warm cacao. Sensitive emotions and honest thoughts flow in with the morning breeze. Sometimes I write them down and sometimes I just enjoy listening. I lay down and wait for the wind to blow the day away. Soon the sun is so bright I am blind. I go inside to write. I spend hours laying on my favorite blanket and letting the ocean breeze blow through the open doors, caressing my skin on its way through the house. For lunch, I carve open a papaya and fill it with fresh avocado and sweet sweet passionfruit. When life is slow and simple, a special meal like this is an event to behold.
I have abandoned stress. Rush has no place on these hills. Everyone is smiling and moving with the current. It seems the gods are happy with our offerings. We are mindful of our words. Reality is blossoming from our thoughts. When I sense the sun is ready to fall asleep behind the volcano, I drive along the coast. The moon rises while I am practicing yoga in the outdoor jungle gym with my new friends. We are all laughing as we swing from bamboo bars and try to balance on our hands. We drink from fresh coconuts and eat bananas.
From the cliff, we watch the ocean spread out and our eyesight stretches further than the screens. I’m creating a simple life on the cliffs above the ocean and my time is lost out there at sea, never to return. It’s lovely. I eat fruit. I read. I write. I paint. I breathe. I stretch. I enjoy deep philosophical and psychological conversations over nutritious dinners in an enchanted garden full of pink flowers and hiding fairies.
When I sense stress is sneaking up the stairs, eager to knock on my door and spook me, I wander down to the black sand beach. I message my friend Made who meets me under the umbrella with a sarong. She gives me an hour long massage as the ocean lullabies me. I luxuriate in sensation and my creativity has never been so healthy and ripe, just like the fruit I’m eating. My body is healthy. My mind is stimulated. My heart is open. My spirituality is moving through creatively.
I am producing new dance music inspired by Florence + The Machine. I am writing a fantasy novel that is very inspired by my recent stargazing. I am naked on my porch with wet paint on my hands and knees. I’m smearing colors on large canvases to abstractly express the beauty I see in the sky each morning. The moment urgency taps on my shoulder, I usher her back out the door with a gentle instruction. “Go play in the dirt at the foot of the frangipani tree.”
There is no rush.
There is no rush.
There is no rush.
Love & Rainbows,
Cha in the Wilde