I’m writing a book.

Three weeks ago, something inside me decided to say a giant YES and I texted Lindsay (my IFS healer, a doula and an expert in creative writing). I asked Lindsay to coach me, to help me write a book.

“A book is banging on my mind, pestering me. I see many paths forward and it’s a new world for me to create structure in writing. For 22 years I’ve written free flow in my journal, poems, songs and blog posts. I’m comfortable with the create and move on. I’m uncomfortable with the review, edit, craft and work on writing project for long long time. I would love to find some clarity on ways I can progress that honors and excited all my parts. They are currently afraid of overwhelm, being spread thin, starting a project and getting bored, perfectionism, getting sidetracked, not having enough fun, not doing it efficiently. I am open to working with a coach and it’s important to me that we use IFS in the creative process. You’re the perfect person to guide me through this.”

This book has been flooding me, pouring in with intense passion. I drive around Koh Chang on the lime green scooter, catching the words in the wind. I pull over to the dusty roadside and draw my phone out of the side pocket of my orange backpack. I frantically type the sentences as they arrive, shove the phone back in the bag and drive off again, zooming through the sun speckled jungle roads (which are in astoundingly great condition)!

Thousands of words are filling my handwritten journal, phone memos, word documents, and text messages. The universe is recently when you show up to collaborate with her. “Oh you wanna play?” She says with a hungry smile. “Alrighty then. Get ready.” And so begins another epic journey of creation, another all consuming project, another deep dive into the soul space, another attempt to explain and understand what may always remain a the mystery, another fun way to pass day by day giving me a little purpose to please my ego and distract me from existential dread, a playful way to express the many parts I live with and care for inside me, another contribution to this human culture, another offering making use of my gifts, another way to let go of whatever I’ve been clinging to for so long, another way to spend more time with my friends, another way to liberate myself from the past and being light into the world, another obsession, another playground, another attempt to be god, another opportunity to surrender to something greater than myself, and just another project.

My day has revolved around my morning journaling habit for decades, especially strong in the past five years. It’s my favorite part of everyday. Now, to their great delight, my writer parts are being allowed more hours in each day to play. Hours and hours. I’m alone on a tropical island. Thousands of people are hidden around me in bungalows, tattoo parlors, noisy bars with off vibes, beachy shacks, vegetarian restaurants, and taxi trucks. I’m ignoring them all. I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to be along with my parts, their stories, these empty pages I’ve agreed to fill quickly, and a lot of coffee, melting chocolate, smoothies, fine grains of yellow sand, long joyrides on the scooter, and a sun so hot it will melt me if I leave the shade. I’ve carved out time for solitude, reflection and creation. Leave me be. I’m going deep.

As I write this story, I am also writing about the process of writing. I’m happy to share some of these updates with you on this blog.

If you’re excited to follow the development of this book project more intimately, join my studio members (my online community) where I’ll be sharing more detailed project updates, reflections on writing, behind the scenes of my creative writing project, and sneak peeks. With studio members I’ll be sharing snippets of my writing and video clips of me reading and offering commentary on this work.

Koh Chang, Thailand - Mellow Island Vibes

Dogs and vegetables share the counter at the roadside grocery store. I’m far far away from safety policies and hygiene laws. Love it. It’s refreshing over and over to feel humans living in a more relaxed state amongst one another. Barefoot in the gym, squatting on the toilets, no uniforms, no police officers in sight. Life on this little island in the Gulf of Thailand feels like it’s almost a festival. I’m running around in the sun listening to music, smiling weed, and doing nothing or anything I want. Seems like everyone else is doing the same.

We’re on Koh Chang, a quiet vibes island in Thailand. It took three hours by car and less than an hour by ferry to travel from Bangkok to our accommodation on this mountainous jungle island. National Parks, perfect roads, and fine white sand beaches welcome us… along with hundreds of cannabis shops. You can purchase weed at any counter; the coffee counter, the scooter rental, the bohemian clothing consignment shop, the tourist information booth, massage salon and the pharmacy even might sell weed. The whole town is high.

Fruit stands are the spot for tomorrow’s breakfast, lunch and snack. Tiny bananas, dragonfruits, lychee, and the most important fresh fruit of all…. The Thai Mango. The mangoes in Thailand win most delicious fruit award. We eat them fresh on the beach with cashews. We order fresh mango shakes with evening Thai food. Our faces light up with baffled delight at the first and second and third sip. When mangoes are THIS delicious there is really no sense in ordering any other drink.

This pink journal comes with me everywhere. I sit for hours in the air conditioning and under shady canopies with coffee, chocolate and stories dribbling out. Every morning Captain Bubbles and I scooter up the very steep hill to The Mount. He’s waiting patiently with a giant camera lens for the moment when a hornbill will grace us with its presence. I’m scooping the flesh out of a fresh coconut and you guessed it, writing.

There’s a little fishing village, shops on stilts full of elephant sarongs, shells and sea trinkets. White marajuana smoke swirls up from the roof of the Rasta View Cafe and disappears in the blue sky where the white belly sea eagles fly.

Pull the scooter over to the roadside gasoline stand. The gasoline comes in old liquor bottles. 45 Thai Baht for a bottle. The powerful scooter I’m driving can take four bottles. I wave at the lady behind the restaurant counter and she walks slowly out to the street to empty the bottles into the scooter tank and we exchange paper and coins.

And we float in the shallow turquoise water, eat the a Pad Thai and green curry, hold our breaths as the hot orange sun sinks into the sea, point at the crabs that scuttle into their sand holes, and giggle.

Love & Rainbows,

Cha Wilde

Waking Up in Bangkok

Legs tucked under me, chocolate melting on my tongue, Kindle balancing on my thighs — I’m reading “The Penguin Book of Mermaids” as this car transports me from Bangkok, southeast to a ferry terminal. I’ll cross the water to Koh Chang and enjoy a couple weeks of aggressive snorkeling and wildlife appreciation. Traveling ultra-light on this trip with bikinis, a freediving mask, Kindle, journal and speaker. Reading, writing, listening to music, meditating and yoga on the beach. Oh, and I brought the GoPro to film beautiful moments that will later be edited into the vlogs, the mini documentary films my team edits and I share with studio members who support these journeys. I’m now filming season two of “Love and Rainbows”. I’m experimenting with a new filming style this time around - incorporating verticals video and collages, a film that feels more like a scrapbook. Documentary living is a lifestyle that’s crept in since childhood; always writing the feelings I’m experiencing and shooting the pretty interesting things I see. Why, I wonder, should I bother trying to capture such an impermanent universe. Even my art will fade. I feel myself, and the work I create, flowing in a greater flow, turning over in a cycle stronger than logic. I feel good when I document and create. It’s a lovely gesture though fleeting and disposable. Today, I play with a crazy vibrant colorful filter on the photos I snap on the iPhone 13 Pro. Waking up in a busy city is a shock to this body that’s been snoozing beside the sea for a couple months. Why so rushed, everyone? Younger parts of me feel memories rise in the body with sights of the city. I used to love living in cities when I moved as fast as them.

The ocean, though mysterious, had become a safe place for me. The beach is fun and underwater is spacious. The beach makes me dreamy. Underwater I am in the dream. It’s a living fantasy.

Surface time is a thing now in my awareness. surface intervals. How long have I been on land? How long since I was in the water? This is a pressing question. Slip into the water and wash off all dirt of mind, residue of problems. The water plays with me and lifts the mood. Everything is good in the water. I played in the hotel pool this morning, 7th floor outdoor, cars honking on the street below, lovely temperature. I held one breath, kicked off the wall and torpedoed through the water until my chin gently bumped the rough floor. No injury, just surprise. It’s been awhile since I swam in a pool. I’ve been diving in water with sand 20m below me, no risk of accidentally crashing my face into the bottom. Surprise! Oh yes, it’s a pool. I feel like an ocean fish swimming full speed into the glass wall of its new tank, confused.

All books open on my Kindle right now are about mermaids. Reading sentences about the ocean makes me feel close to her. The ocean is sending me messages through the words other people have written about her. Like a girlfriend telling me that she heard from someone on the playground that the boy I crush on might like me like me. A notice through the grapevine lifts my spirits and flutters my warm heart. Reading stories about the ocean from other human hearts makes my own heart feel connected to the ocean still, although I wake up in a concrete jungle.

My own words pour out today with the flat white oat milk coffee. IDK Cafe Silon earns my award for one of the most strangely decorated coffee houses I’ve ever stepped inside. The colors are vibrant, furniture asks me to figure out how to sit on it, cartoon character fill the walls, the air smells like marajuana. Welcome to Thailand.

Love & Rainbows,

Cha Wilde

Waking Up in the Underwater World of Freediving Friends in Amed, Bali

The waves this morning; a bride’s lace train snaking along the black sand. Scratches and holes in the sand are the evidence of the yoga poses I flowed through at sunrise. Wet diving mask thrown into the closet, still smells of baby shampoo. Meditation is now 20 minutes each morning, the sound of waves, counting the exhale. The neighbor man coughs up phlegm.



The motors start up. Women lay stick in the sand, a makeshift ramp for the jukung fishing boats about to leave the beach and raise their sails. Sunshine blinds the clouds and there is a small patch of blue above the jungle covered ridges of the volcano. Most of the green jungle is dark. There is a strip of light shining on the perfectly smooth slope of Mt. Agung this morning; a stripe of lime green palms.


I am being drawn into the freediving community of Amed, called into the ocean one breath at a time. Synchronicity flows through these days like a breeze through the garden cafe.



I watched a turtle eat breakfast off the side of the USS Liberty Shipwreck, 20m under the surface. I hovered in the blue space, as still as possible floating on current, as silent as possible drawing breath from the scuba tank. A peacock mantis shrimp scurried along the sand, an octopus poked eyes out from the coral. Garden eels hypnotized me in a creepy alien fantasy. I haven’t found great love for the Chinese trumpetfish yet although I see them everywhere. I’m more enchanted by the white branded triggerfish; those eyeballs!

I called shotgun and stuck my hand out the window to wave to the rice paddies. One Way Espresso popped onto the scene. My eyes lit up. I just wrote the journal a couple days ago that I needed a fresh vibes coffee shop; white walls, laptop friendly workspace, air conditioning, wifi. My hopes were low that I would find such a blessing in this salty town. Note to self, return to the One Way Espresso for a solid get-shit-done work session! Hallelujah. Five hours later I received a random invitation to join a group of freedivers for dinner at One Way Espresso. I ate a bowl of tempeh and tofu Ramen for dinner and laughed myself into bellyaches. First it moves into my consciousness, then it moves into my reality, and like magic it has become my experience.



The freediving community in Amed is opening up easily, like a sunrise, it’s just coming for me. Will I receive it now? Yes, please. I reflect back and see the flow. I see how I’ve been carried here. I feel the ease and I feel the limit. I can sense now when I am here.

I want female freediving friends to be with in the ocean and on land. I felt the desire in the body. I acknowledge the desire and saw the vision in my mind. I expressed the vision in my journal, noting the detail and the reason why I want. I move on with life, open now to receive it when it arrives. And here we are.



I hugged Julie on the beach in Noosa National Park. She was dripping wet with sea salt, her surf camera at her feet. We are peers; women who love the ocean who dove into scuba and flowed into freediving only to be traumatized by our first freediving training. She didn’t go in the ocean for two months after her training. It took me two weeks and courage to grab the snorkel and rent a pair of fins. I ate an entire bar of chocolate on the beach, listened to music, and swam out by myself. I didn’t need to pressure from other people. I was afraid for my ears. I was afraid for my life; the sensation of being under the surface with no air to breath, the panick sets in and the discomfort was too much to bare. My body didn’t forget this and it wouldn’t let me back in the water. I seriously worried. Will I ever dive again or is this the end now?

Before the training, Julie and I felt like free mermaids, splashing joyfully, eager to submerge. After the training, we were cautious to even get wet. This is the power of the nervous system. I WILL SURVIVE trumps everything else. I told Julie I was going back to Bali to try again.



Imagination kept showing me visions of my mother riding horses. “I’ve got to get back on the horse,” I heard the voice in my head. My fingers reached for the phone to call my mom and ask her to tell me stories of how she got back on the balance beam after she fell, how she got back on the horses after she fell. My mother has fallen (literally, physically) more than I have. She keeps getting up. I didn’t call her. Instead, I listened to whales singing in noise cancling headphones, pressed my forehead to the airplane window, stared out into the blue (the sky was blue in all directions), pretended I was freediving at this great depth and imagined sperm whales swimming by gracefully, suspended in the water. How strange it is that we just float like this, like we’re flying in liquid. I wrote in my journal, speaking to the parts of me who feel fear. “What are you afraid is going to happen? What do you desire? Your desire must be greater than the fear. What about diving this deep in the ocean is desirable to you?” Something shifted in me and I walked out of the airport in Denpasar open to try again.


Another freediving woman has joined me life. Her name is Tanya and she’s blowing my sensual mind with the stories of how women can experience orgasm-like sensations when they’re doing long hangs at the bottom of the freediving line. The men are looking on from another buoy in curious humorous delight. They said the sounds coming off the women’s buoy are quite entertaining. As the ladies resurface from their long hangs, orgasmic energy in their oxygen deprived bodies, their gasping for air, intoxicated by pleasure. Could men experience something similar? If men were to become aroused at the bottom of the line we would be experiencing some issues with drag. More bellyaching laughter.


I drink up the last spoonful of spicy miso ramen at One Way Espresso and look at this company I’m keeping. I’ve been laughing for hours now with three highly skilled freediving instructors; all of whom play like mermaids and fishboys, grateful just to be in the water, freediving at the center of their lifestyle. They’ve been in the water with the world champions. They’ve been in the water for years, childlike spirits splash around, pointing at fish, holding their breaths so long they’ve falling into the depths, communed with the sharks, orgasmed and returned to the tell the tales that now make me laugh, sending spicy ramen liquid into my nose. Burning and morning laughter.

I hug Tanya goodnight and she says she’ll be back in Amed next week and she’s looking forward to diving with me. Mattias waves goodnight and once again says, “I’ll see you on Tuesday. We’re going to have a good time in the water.” Mattias has been carefully selected as the human to help me get back on this water horse. Tilley thinks his teaching style will suit me; chill and fun. We dive on Tuesday.

Love & Rainbows,
Cha Wilde

Love The Darkness and Dive in the Sunrise Light

I feel nervous about the free fall. At 20m the ocean will start pulling me down into her depths all the way down to the sea floor like gravity. I wasn’t worried about it much when it seemed likely I’d never go that deep. Why would I? What’s for me down there?



And now I feel the nervous excitement in my chest and belly. Now I realize I will reach 20m and at that moment I will feel the pull, stop kicking and fall. I’m pretty sure now in the gut I’m the way I know other things. I know because I have tasted my first bite and instantly wanted more. My introduction to freediving was rough and traumatic. I dove away from the ocean into new music. I got back on the seahorse with support from friends, journaling, somatic descent and literally just dipping toes in the water, then hips, then lips and eyes. I broke it down into baby steps and wonder returned.




This morning I swam down to maybe 3m effortlessly, turned around and looked up. Sunbeams waking up the water. Shimmering bubbles on fingertips. Long hair floating in water and light, illuminated from behind, changing colors in a dance around my head. I saw the electric dots again, underwater fireflies.




I describe the electric dots to Captain Bubbles and he stared at me blankly. I stare at this pirate who knows every identified fish in the sea by their Latin names and feel crazy. How can he not know what I’m talking about? I see these neon specks, tiny light creatures, blue and purple nearly every time I open eyes in the ocean. They’re mesmerizing as an ocean fairy would be. I can’t help but lean in with attention to observe them more closely and under the spell I could easily be swept away to the horizon. How has the fish pirate boy noticed them or perhaps the words I’m choosing to describe the fluorescent blips doesn’t do them justice. I suppose a Google search and a Latin name might get the point across.





Today I saw the sunrise from under the water, rays through almost clear water, a gentle haze. I only receive a few seconds down there before this buoyant body is drawn swiftly to the surface again…and again.





Life is so good here. For the millionth time I feel in my bones how good life can be a standard everyday experience, taken for granted as much as it is appreciated.



Vacation may be perceived as a chance to live the good life for a week or two, a break from the slog of the daily life back home. It feels good to live the good life on the daily so a vacation may be lived as an out of the ordinary adventure. Vacation can be the spice of a good life instead of salvation from life lived unwell; a special treat in a field of diamonds.



I remember thinking, with a twenty year old mind, that I’d very much like to live a life I never wish to escape. Perhaps, I pondered, I ought to take vacations to very dismal places to give me perspective. Once a year I’ll go to a total shit hole and immense gratitude for whenever I live will be undeniably flowing through open eyes. With this brain, now thirty four years old, I can say I’ve been there and done. I’ve been to some dark places (and I’ll probably see more between now and whenever this body dies), and I no longer fear the darkness as I once did. I actually long to sit still in the darkness regularly. I remember being joyful as a girl and young woman, effervescent light was bubbling in naive wonder. Now my own life experience has me nodding in agreement with the sages. Swimming courageously in darkness has trained these eyes to pick up on even the most subtle light.

And oh how I kicked, screamed and cried when the doctor told me I had to embrace the darkness. Twenty-seven years of silver livings and choosing happy had cemented a stubborn habit of a positivity, an addiction to light, a total rejection of dark. This “toxic positivity” as I’ve heard it called was concerning the balanced humans around me and thoroughly irritating the negatively minded ones. We need both. Yin and Yang. I believed touching darkened, even looking at it, would melt my joy like the water thrown on the Wicked Witch of the West. I’d been taught how to pick positive perspectives. I don’t recall many lessons in how to hold myself in darkness. I heard friends speak of their love for the darkness. I squinted at them, judging them in some way for being sick or depressing. Why would anyone like the dark? I could barley understand how someone could tolerate it let alone enjoy it.

There was a giant cyst on my ovary though and the doctor said I had to face the darkness. I was becoming sick  emotionally, physically and spiritually and I needed to face the full spectrum of who lived inside me. There were answers in the darkness that would help me heal. Healing would come through wholeness. When I could finally hold myself, all of who I am, light and dark, dreams and grief, wonder and terror, love and judgments, passion and resistance, anger and compassion, determination and surrender, youth and wisdom, openness and boundaries, this seen world and something beyond the mystical, this is when I would be at whole, healed, healthy. This I have learned in the body is self love. I love everything I see when I look inside myself. If I look inside and find something I don’t love, I know now that I simply haven’t learned to love it yet.

And so I drive a scooter through the rice paddies (sawa), slide feet through black sand, hold my breath, pinch my nose and stay under the surface of sunrise water for a few more seconds than before and I feel how good and healthy this life is. Everyday gives me light and dark and all of it is loved.

Love & Rainbows,

Cha Wilde

Underwater Orgasms: Tantra in the Ocean

I’m at the ocean, living the good life in Amed with freedivers, jungle artists and black sand beaches. If the silky water on the skin and the infinite azure blue had not enchanted me enough, now these eyes open to what’s possible for women diving deep in the ocean. I see a spark on the horizon, a new way for me to play with Tantra. I am living a sensual life and the mention of “orgasm at depth” perks up my ears. The men laugh and tell me the sounds they hear coming from the women’s bouy are very entertaining. I look at Tanya and she explains. “We do long holds. The contractions create an orgasmic sensation. If you’re not relaxed enough, the contractions lift your chest and shoulders. If you’re very relaxed, then you just feel a ripple of movement in the lower belly. It’s very, shall we say….(she raises her eyebrows and smiles)."


This means she and her diving girlfriends pull themselves down the rope into the ocean and then at some magical point, they stop pulling and they just hang there, holding the line in their hands, holding the breath in the body, eyes probably closed, feeling the body ask for air, choosing to stay down until the diaphram contracts attempting to breathe. The downward pulling diaphragm presses on the other internal organs, including reproductive organs, stimulating all sorts of pleasurable sensations in the woman’s body. Deep in the ocean, as she hangs, suspended weightless in blue, she is pleasured. She feels an urge to breathe and chooses to stay, suffocated in ecstasy. Like a strong choke during sex in the bedroom, a little kink in the sea. There is discomfort and there is pleasure; together. When the ladies resurface, they’re gasping for air in an afterglow. The men enjoy the opportunity to witness, floating nearby on their own buoy. They’re enjoying their time in the ocean too of course and yet nothing compares to the pleasure of a woman.


Mattias ties it all together for me, referencing the flow of energy through the body. I realize we’re talking about kundalini here. All this breath holding, swimming into water pressure, mind control, deep relaxation and waves of pleasure has got me thinking one thing, TANTRA. This freediving is a spiritual exercise. Just like yoga on the mat, we’re moving the physical body and circulating energy. Where is all this energy going? Are we going to let it drain out the bottom into the sea and wash away? We’ll feel drained ourselves afterward if we do that. So instead, the fun option is to harness all that energy, direct it upwards through the chakra system, and we rise in our consciousness as the light explodes in the crown of our heads. Clarity. Enlightenment. Pure bliss. Oneness.

These are photos of Tanya snorkeling in Amed. She’s fully covered in tattoos. I love being in the water with her, the artwork on her body makes he look even more like a fish / mermaid; colorful scales and patterns swimming by. She’s so elegant and I’m learning so much about graceful mermaid movement through the water, just by watching her diving. Slow smooth kicks down. Float back up with your ankles crossed. Positive buoyancy floats you back up so you get to enjoy the sensations without having to kick or exert energy. The curvy hips of a woman underwater is divine. The male freediver are straight sticks sliding up and down the water column. The ladies are so voluptuous. Diving with Tanya is literally the closest I’ve ever been to a mermaid.

We dry off and veg out on the floor or Apneista. We order another coffee and our eyes grow big as we place another homemade chocolate in our mouths. Coconut milk, palm sugar and ceremonial cacao. The chocolate has to be refrigerated or it starts melting. It’s divine. After diving, we’re in a blissed out state, mellow with no ambition to move. So we lay on the straw mats against some cushions and talk about men, astral traveling, music tours (Tanya is a lighting engineer touring with massive bands you’ve absolutely heard of hehe), giggling over the constant flow of sex jokes (which are only funny when girls make them, and creepy when guys make the same joke, strange), and we take two hours to decide where to eat dinner. I haven’t laughed this much in living memory.

I asked the universe to bring me a freediving girlfriend and the universe delivered. My manifesting powers are strengthening by the day. On Bali, the manifestation magic is insane. Ask and receive with delivery times depending on your proximity to the volcano. In Amed, we’re at the foot of Mt Agung so manifestación occurs within 24hrs. If we were in Canggu, it would take 3 days. Ha!! Seattle would take a month or two.

Love & Rainbows,
Cha Wilde

Silence Is Not Found in The Ocean; Scuba and Freediving in Bali

I eat breakfast with a cockroach in my sink, brushed ants off the soles of my feet, fluff the sheets to fly the black sand off onto the floor. The ocean never stops making noise. The sea is angry and my mother is asking for proof of life.

I’m eating dried broad beans in bed, reading books about creativity, sex fetishes, coral reefs, and mermaids. Sweatshirt and elephant pants got me cozy. Peppermint tea on my tongue. My hair is wet and smells of banana shampoo. I’m very clean for the first time in days.

I went scuba diving this morning inside a shipwreck. A turtle was eating, it’s beak clinging to the edge of the ship while it’s flippers floated absentmindedly, its body like a little flag in the wind. A day octopus poked its head out of a coral hiding spot. It was hard to tell it was an octopus. I would have floated by had the dive master not pointed it out. The camouflage is incredible on these creatures!

Breathing my body up and down in the blue space, I’m conscious of coral and fish all around me. Don’t touch anything. I float. Inhale I go up a little. Exhale I sink down. I feel a pull inside me to swim away from the coral covered ship.

I look out into the blue. That’s all there is, blue. Blue. Blue up and down as far as I can see. Blue so calm. Blue so inviting. Blue so secretive and mysterious. Blue has never been so beautiful in my eyes before now.

I want to leave, turn away from the humans, the bubbles, the rainbows swimming around me, the delicate coral creatures, not quite an animal not quite a plant, and fin this body out into the nothingness, the everythingness of the open blue water.

It is one of the most powerful sensations of enchantment I have ever experienced. This is what it feels to be mesmerized, under the spell of some crazy kind of magic. It would suck me in and I would let it. So instead I look back at the colors. Inhale, I float up toward the surface. Too much. Exhale just a little and I sink back down just a little. Follow the leader.

Since learning the basics of freediving and experiencing life under the ocean for one minute on one breath, scuba suddenly seems very loud and very bulky.

When I started scuba diving, people around me kept saying how much they love the silence down there. Well, Jesus, how loud their mind chatter must be because from the moment I first sunk into the water I was amazed at how loud it is down there.

Now that I’m into freediving, I appreciate even more how much noise there is below the surface. As scuba divers, our bubbling and breathing is so loud. I hear the hissing of my breath and the release of the gas into the water.

First most important rule in scuba diving is to always breath, keep breathing, breathe continuously, never stop breathing!!!

I was tempted today to stop breathing for just a split second so I could create more silence inside myself, so I could hear the ocean make her noises. I wanted to listen. I realize now, I feel it deep in my body, why I want to freedive. I want to be inside the ocean as quiet and still as possible so I can hear what she has to say to me.

Scuba is a playground of confidence building energy. Get used to being underwater. Freediving is promising me an entirely different type of magic.

love & rainbows,

Cha Wilde

Simple Dreams in Rainy Season; Writing Songs by the Ocean


Remember when I was doubting if it was worth it to haul all this music equipment across the Pacific Ocean? Well, now I’d say yes. Most days the bed is covered in instruments and cable snakes. It’s uncomfortable on my back to work like this for more than 30-60min. I do wish I had an open desk space to spread out and produce on a screen at eye-level. That’s the dark side of this life as a nomadic songwriter and music producer…discomfort, constantly unpacking and repacking, constantly changing acoustic conditions for recording, and DIY solutions to make it work on a tiny portable toy when really I wish I had a full piano to play on, a full set of monitor speakers to hear the song in full space around me, and a vocal booth to capture crystal clear vocals. The light side is that I’m singing in new places which fill me with fresh inspiration. I can hear the ocean waves outside keeping me fluid and grounded. The energy is moving all around me and the mermaid daydreams swimming in the mind are fragrant in the atmosphere around me as well. I remember myself making music in the vocal booth in Seattle, in the art studio, the air was still and stagnant. I closed my eyes and dreamed of the ocean. I had perfect recording conditions and my soul was stifled. Now, the recording conditions are rough and the spirit is flying. I fantasize about a professionally treated music studio on the beach now; the best of both worlds. Dreams reveal themselves gradually.


Most days town is a puddle. Clothes are constantly damp. It’s a sweet treat to pick up a bag of fresh laundry from Komang’s washing machine and feel the clean dry fabric on my skin. It’s a sensation that doesn’t last long. It’s savored. The potholes in this town were last repaired twenty years ago. Apparently, roadwork will begin again in 2024. I really don’t mind the rain so much. I’m warm. The air is humid and yet at any moment I can jump in the ocean and freshen up. The magic in this town far outweighs the discomfort of daily rainstorms. In fact, the rain helps maintain balance. On sunny days I play outside, yoga on the beach and scooter rides to the mountain tops. On rainy days, I turn pages in the dozens of books I’m reading simultaneously. I usually have 5-10 books going at once. I switch between them, dipping in to different topics as the moods change throughout the days.

And here I am, living a dream. All I craved for years was the opportunity to sit undercover in the jungle during tropical rainstorms and produce music on the laptop. Here I am. This cafe is a local spot for me. I drink matcha lattes, eat ginger biscuits, pour tea out of gorgeous china pots, read those books on the Kindle, and listen through the freshly vocal takes I just recorded back in the bedroom. It’s a simple life here. In the bedroom I sleep to the sound of the ocean. I meditate on the porch at sunrise. I stretch in the sand as the sun gets hot. Black sand gets everywhere. I wash it off in the stone shower. A little workout on the porch with resistance bands; a portable “good-enough” gym I carry wherever I go. I walk across the street to sit in the cafe and write in the journal, this blog, and respond to messages pinging in from all over the globe. The audience I’m speaking to now is worldwide; Egypt, London, upstate New York, Southern California, Australia, Malaysia, Isreal…hello all of you! I’m livestreaming again to show up to connect with you. To finally have a large audience to offer these gifts to is a dream come true. All I want is to be playing in nature, creating and sharing with humans. Here we are. By the end of the day, I’ve taken a few steps forward in the new songs, learn a thing or two about the human body, the mysterious of the ocean, befriended someone new in the freediving community, and eaten a freaking delicious meal. The food here is something to look forward to.

And again, I’m living a dream. Does living a dream feel thrilling? Sometimes. Often it’s just peaceful. I’m relaxed, chill, moving very slowly from the beach to the hilltop. I’m opening up an application on the computer and patiently listening to the sounds I just made up. I’m staring at the view and watching kids and cows walk by. Living a simple dream is simply dreamy. Watching other people go about their lives is a dream. Mothers with three kids on the scooter. Farmers with a bushel of grass on the scooter. A hotshot young man with golden locks flashes by on his golden scooter. A couple divers drive by with long fins sticking out of their drybags. An old woman walks by in pajamas with a rag on her head and a machete in her hand. Yep, this is a phenomenal dream life. The hills are bushy green. When the sun shows up my heart dances.


These cats are in mating season. I think it’s his first time because he keeps crawling on her back and missing the hole. She’s squealing, sticking her ass in the air and literally couldn’t be making his job any easier and yet there he is, chasing her around and climbing on her back like he’s a koala. We were watching a movie and I heard the cat howls. I ran outside to watch (of course) and it’s been a week of solid National Geographic comedy.

The music equipment I was most skeptical to pack was the Akai MiniPlay MIDI Controller. I stood at the airport in Seattle, a little sick to my stomach, shoulders aching, cursing myself for bring a miniature piano with me to South East Asia. WTF. Why? Isn’t a guitar enough? Seven new songs later and hours of playing with the unlimited electronic sounds at my fingertips, I’m not cursing anymore. I’m loving it. I’m grateful for it. The guitar is a tool of vibration. It’s alive with me. It’s an emotional friend, a relationship with character. It keeps me company and I get to improve a technical music skill that I can pull out at parties. The MIDI controller piano…now this is a cold no-hearted object that is a tool, a portal at best, into a magical world. It’s just buttons and those buttons let me compose an entire symphony. The guitar makes one type of sound…guitar and a little drum beat sometimes in the body. The MIDI control just stares at me like, “Well…..skys the limit babe. What sounds shall we make today? Trumpet? Piano? Space warp wobble? Cello? Let’s gooooo!!!” If loving this guitar is like being friends with a dog, then the MIDI controller is like being friends with R2D2. A little muesli and music in the beach chair is a happy little magic for a simple afternoon.

I was scared at first when I heard the yelling. My solo female travel radar was flashing fast. Why are there men yelling outside my door? It was the middle of the night and the fishermen were on the beach, lights flashing around, shouts, scraping noises. If you see a fisherman putting on his jacket, a storm is coming. They’re the first to know. Even if you see sunshine all around, follow their lead. Take cover and watch the ocean move in quickly for you. The men were pulling the boats up onto the grass, off the sand. The waves were coming up higher on the beach than usual. It was black night. I watched from my window. They needed to get many boats off the beach and onto land so the ocean wouldn’t wash them away. The night grew quiet again and all was well. These Balinese fishing boats, “jukung”, have been on the grass in front of me for days. I climb over and under them to get out into the world. Their charm is growing on me.

Love & Rainbows,
Cha Wilde

Too Good to Be True

What would be too good to be true?

-- close your eyes

-- take a deep breath

-- ask yourself the question above and wait for the answer to arise inside you

-- type the first words / images / feelings you receive in the comments

-- MY ANSWER -- (My answer gets to be longer than yours on OF...write your full answer in your journal. Share a snippet with me/us.)

I used to ask myself this question almost everyday to guide my mindset out of it's habitual thinking...ie to think outside the box, to think bigger, to feel what I REALLY wanted when limits were removed.

For years my answer was something like "It would be too good to be true if I woke up in the morning and got to produce music all day and make a living doing it so I could focus and not worry about money or other distracting tasks."

I had a vision for being a clear channel for music to flow through me. I wanted to practice yoga outside in the warm breeze in the shade of a tree on a sunny day, to be fully embodied and moving in pleasure.

To meditate and see clearly the words to write on the page which would evolve into lyrics and to feel the dancing vibrations through my body, singing out of my uninhibited throat to shimmer in the air. Singing like a bird for pleasure and expression. Sharing my voice with others effortless, joyfully, meaningfully, intimately.

I saw myself sipping on coffee in the treehouse in a jungle, on my laptop, producing playful, mischievous spiritual sounds that I could upload and release for the whole world to hear and dance to. Soak in my songs!

It would be too good to be true to wake up in the morning as an artist, alive and blossoming with confidence and playful childlike spirit, contagious and free. It would be too good to be true if the world wanted my songs as much as I loved creating them.

It would be too good to be true to wake up and walk out the door on straight onto the beach, into the ocean, warm and awake with sensation, naked and comfortable. It would be too good to be true that I would love to dance for the world, delight bubbling over from my core, unrestrained, tension released, smooth in the softest rhythms.

Whatever I was envisioning and hoping for, it all comes down to pleasure and presence. Presence is my greatest gift. Pleasure is medicine. Music is medicine. Yoga is essential. Meditation is essential. Breathing is essential. Writing is a tool. Music is a tool. Painting is a tool. Dancing is a tool. Tools of expression. I've used them to express and explore pain and wonder.

I dreamed of a life too good to be true. That thinking helped me step into living a truly good life.

Love,

Cha

One Touch: Learning to Love Guitar

Just touch the thing you want.

You don’t need to be investing hours everyday in your new skill. You don’t even need to commit to five minutes. Just place one finger on one string once a day. Your intention is to build a relationship.

Some days you may play for minutes and hours. Everyday you touch it.

Like a smile in the mirror with a mantra, a ritual goodbye kiss at the door, the vitamins you pop into your mouth, the way you tip your hat to the neighbor on the street every evening walk. It’s one simple touch that builds an endearing, enduring friendship.

Touch the guitar each day to say “hello friend” and beyond that, if your heart desires, enjoy more time. You build relationship and you feel the warmth that consistent touch has cultivated. Naturally you spend time together without even watching the clock, without forcing anything. Watch yourself pluck a string, play for a minute, then five, then fifty.

Forget 10,000 hours. Where will that get you without a loyal love?

Place a sweet finger on the surface of your love interest and smile with a kind word. “Hello love.” That is enough to begin. That is the beginning of a beautiful journey. No point stepping further forward without this as the foundation first.

Not a day goes by that you two don’t connect. The consistency blossoms into partnership. You keep showing up and creativity knows where to find you. Show up at the same time each day and double the chance she finds you because now she knows where and when.

I am no great guitarist though I do hold great love for the guitars I carry with me. They have received a loving touch from my hands. I’ve laid a listening ear on their bellies and they’ve caught tears falling with feelings.

I gave up counting 10,000 hours a few years ago. I’ve been enjoying collecting 10,000 happy memories, simple moments, of deep loving presence with the instruments. Not counting hours anymore, just beats. I’m listening. ✌🏼

Don’t force love or skills. Just feel them. 💕🫧

Love & Rainbows,

Fantasy

There is a fantasy about me
A realness I can’t hide
Transparent in the way I breathe
Nothing hides insides
I feel pain when I am smaller
and vanity when I’m big
I ride roller coasters
Thrill of life
I’ve played it small for long enough
My spirit has grown tough
to meet the world outside
and hide the tears I’ve cried
in open air
I pray with colors to feel flirty
I wear lace when I’ve been dirty
Write my poetry to tell the truth in lines
It all more than I wanted
Just leave me on the beach
But waves are rolling in again
I feel it out of reach
Bring me home to somewhere new
When I don’t know what to do
I listen deeper
I listen deeper
Leave me my own
Abandon the damn phone
Let it be enough
to sit with me in silence
Don’t raise your eyebrows
asking questions
I’ve been living in seduction
Friction in the days
I wish I could perform
Sing for the world the way I do when I’m alone
Make the videos sing for me
Truths the way they ring for me
reinvent myself daily
new and new and new
It’s the freshness that excites me
the beauty that delights me