Threaded With Beauty

~ Natal Galvan

In the past few weeks women of all ages and stages have been reaching out to me for some friendly advice. In speaking with these girls, young ladies, women, some whom I know, some whom I never met before in my life, I have discovered a common thread so beautiful that it leaves me breathless. This common thread is in our want to find our way through life, that need to find our place within our journey, no matter where we come from, who we are, or what our “status” is in this lifetime.  We each question what our purpose is and if we’re on the “proper” path. We roam around aimlessly at times, with the only knowledge or feeling that all we want to do is to help.

“I’m so lost… Am I on the right path?…I’m torn between doing the things I love and the things that are expected of me….. Most times I don’t know what I’m doing…I truly just don’t know what it is that I’d like to do with the rest of my life…”

These are some of the reoccurring questions and statements that I hear throughout my conversations with these ladies. They are feelings that most of us have but no one is truly willing to be honest with themselves nor willing to share. We all want to make it seem to the world that we know what we’re doing. We want to make believe it is all ok and that we have control of  all our doubts and fears when in reality, it is those very same doubts and fears that control us.

Society, the media, the tangibilities of life all around us, it has all thrown people into a vicious cycle. It’s the cycle of comparison webbed with the feeling of inferiority. We are constantly comparing ourselves to our friends, our family, and even to strangers. What do they have? What do they look like? What’s their status? Am I close to them??? For men I believe it’s more a friendly form of competition and bonding among themselves. For women I believe it to be something more  fierce.

As women, we are always on the forefront when it comes to the gossip. We are catty and unlike guys, we are constantly caught up in a non-friendly competition with one another. T.v shows like Bad Girls Club, Housewives of (insert city here), or America’s Next Top Model, we have infused into the eyes of society that it’s Ok to mistreat each other. We are reinforcing the belief that it is Ok to call each other bitches and whores. That instead of helping each other succeed, we try to knock each other down and use that body as a stepping stone to rise to the top, always trying to one-up one another. Even if we catch our significant other cheating on us, most tend to forgive the cheater and end up going for the throat of the other women, even if she had no idea that cheater was in a relationship to begin with! It’s straight up madness and I don’t understand how it that we got to this point. Yet although I may not know how exactly we got here, I do see how it is that we can crawl out of this well of negativity.

The first step we should take is towards realizing that we are all in this together. The game of life is a tough game to play and not because life is complicated but more so because we humans are. Realize that the woman next to you, no matter what she looks like, no matter her social status or where she may have originally come from, she too has moments of wonderment and at times feelings of inadequacy. It could be in her personal life or maybe her career, but doubt has lingered there even if only for a moment’s time. We don’t always know what we’re doing or where we’re going, and that is totally ok. For those women who have most things figured out, why not help the ones that don’t. A little advice, guidance, and empathy could change the world for the girl standing next to you. It could later on spark the big changes this planet needs if we’re to prevail as a human race.

Behind every strong man there is an even stronger and more powerful woman for we are the ones who behind the daily scenes help shape society through our children and we try to make better of our men. But what good is that woman if she feels alone and lost? No good at all so instead of shutting each other down at the first sign of insecurity, let’s be there for one another. Let’s help reshape society one woman at a time and we will literally see this ugly world morph from this blinding cocoon we have made for ourselves, and watch it turn it into a beautiful butterfly soaring on the wings of change.

10369553_1429684363967982_1987139479_n (2) Photo Credit: Natal Galvan

Closet Crazy

~ Natal Galvan

*** Fictional Story***

Tick… Tick… Tick… Tick.

Only about thirty more ticks to go from my authentic grandfather clock that sits gallantly in the corner before I can slowly end this session.

Everyday I sit in this blue chair, with my freshly ironed dry cleaned clothes, polished loafers, and perfectly combed hair. I face my client while holding my notepad and pen and jot down anything I feel like I should be jotting down. It’s more for show actually. I scribble down things like their posture, words or phrases I notice them subconsciously using, ticks they may have, even when they’re lying to me. I always know when they’re lying to me. When you’ve studied people for as long as I have, it becomes second nature to spot a lie.

Most of my clients are good people. Their lives are usually quite boring which leads them to deal with their boring lives in a destructive manner. Each case different in the manner they go about getting rid of the monotony their lives have become. All similarly ending in destruction. This is why they come looking for me.

I listen to their pitiful stories. All complain, some of them while yelling. Others spend their entire session crying out without even saying an understandable word. Most of the time I just sit there and listen. I listen without having to really listen to them. During most of my sessions my brain runs on complete autopilot. I tune into the “important” parts and tune out the fillers with important thoughts of my own.

Today has been a busier day than usual. I started off my morning with a 22 year old girl who has sexual fantasies of being with an older man, a man who much resembles to that of her father. That session was followed by a husband who’s wife recently uncovered his severe gambling and cocaine addiction and gave the the ultimatum to seek help or leave. After him followed a 5th grade English teacher who absolutely hated his job and who’s never experienced a romantic relationship in his entire life. He’s 53 years old and since our last session has secretly begun diving into the depths of the deep dark web in search of deep dark fantasies. Their issues are typical for their individual circumstances. With each case I end our sessions with prescribing them drugs to help them “cope” with their issues but to be honest, they were all much more sane before they started to come to see me. Before the drugs.

Western medicine has never been my thing. When I say “my thing” I mean you will never catch me taking any type of Western medication. Garbage is the word that comes to mind when thinking about man made medicine. I am more of a meditation and homeopathic remedies man myself, yet I cannot deny the amount of money one can make by pumping patients with garbage. When done right, one can keep sick people sick, and make a killing doing so. No pun intended. So I prescribe them this, then I’ll mix it up and tell them to take that. Never once do they debate the advice given to them. As long as I listen and prescribe, that’s all they care about. I give them exactly what they want. I dope them up to help them better deal with the harsh realities of life. Realities that for the most part were self inflicted. They never question the possible side effects of what has been prescribed to them neither the long term nor short. They don’t ever question the motives one may have when prescribing such garbage, neither big nor small. No explanations are ever needed. Just a piece of paper with a solution to a symptom and a signature and off they go.

I run a very small and very private practice so there is really no one I have to answer to other than the board. Not once have I ever had to answer to the board. In fact, in order for a patient to be even seen by me you first have to be referred by someone on the “inside”, then verified by me personally. This means full background check. I look into their old medical files, their criminal record if they have one, and dive deep into their most personal affairs. Finding out a patient’s deep and darkest secrets is key to having complete dominance over them. I makes it easier to keep them eating out of your hand.

Funny, I wonder how quickly things would change if any one of my clients found out the truth of the deep dark secret I, myself, hide. A lie that stares them in the face session after session. A sick truth that patients are too blinded by their own issues to see. I thrive over that advantage I have over them. The advantage of being able to see what lies before me because unlike them, I have no issues of my own to deal with. My issues aren’t “issues” instead they are a beautiful way of life.

I am not here to help my patients. I am not here to make them feel better.  To keep my small practice small but yet thriving I make sure to keep the minds of my patients sick. I keep them coming back for more. Their repeat illness allows for my small business to make money. A visibly thriving practice and a polished look  helps disguise the truth that lies within my mind, soul, and basement. How else would I keep my secret a secret? A handsome family man, who is financially well off, and never tires to try to “better” society through is profession. There is no better cover than that.

“It amazes me how day after day you deal with the crazies, only to try to better their lives and make the world an easier place to live in. For them and us. That’s so honorable of you…” is what friends and family say.  I can only imagine the look on their faces if I told them the truth. That no, I could care less about bettering humanity. The simple truth was that dealing with the “crazies” made me appear to be normal.

I wrap up the second half of my day with two more appointments. I close up shop as the sun begins to set, and head straight home to my wife. I find her in the kitchen, happily awaiting my arrival, plating my homemade dinner that was still nice and warm.

Tonight our daughter is working her part-time shift at the mall and won’t be home for hours. I choose to dedicate this time to my wife because meeting her needs keeps her off my back.  “Happy wife, Happy life” isn’t that how the saying goes? So I ask her about her day and although I could give a shit about what this stay at home housewife has done with it, I pretend to listen. Again, mind on autopilot. Throughout our one way conversation, I make sure to interrupt her and compliment her on her cooking skills, calling her below average meal, delectable. With a final wipe of my napkin, I stare her deep into her eyes, and tell her how ravishing she looks, even after a long day like she’s had today. I then reach across the table and kiss her almost animalistically and with one quick swoop, I pick her up and take her to the bedroom where I make love to her passionately. I make sure she is exhaustedly pleased, and soon enough we both are. After much unwanted pillow talk, I get up and make her a nice cup of her favorite bedtime tea. Only  after she drinks the cup in its entirety, and her snores begin to fill the air around me, am I free to become the rawest version of myself.

I wait a few beats before I make my way out of the bedroom, gently closing the door behind me. I don’t worry about my wife waking up. Not after grinding up three melatonin pills and slipping them into her already potent tea. Guiltlessly I make my way through our rustically decorated home, and shut off all the lights, only leaving the driveway light and hallway light on. A guide for when my daughter arrives. With the house dark and quiet my daughter never assumes I’m still awake. She believes I am in the room with her beloved mother, gaily spooning each other until morning. She has no idea that night time is my time.

I make my way past the kitchen and towards the door that leads down into the basement. I open it and instantly am hit with the cold that creeps up from the darkness below. I quickly find myself reaching into my pocket for my penlight. I descend the stairs quickly and point the light towards the bookcase that is randomly placed against the wall. As I reach the bookcase, I place the penlight back into my pocket. I push the heavy bookcase to the side and lift the old, dusty rug it stood on, exposing the trap door that it hid beneath it. Just simply seeing the trap door and knowing the secret that it held inside made my heart race and my dick hard.

With a strong tug I lift the trap door and once I find the proper footing on the thin iron steps, I allow for the door to come back down, lowering it gently back into place. I am again engulfed by darkness. It swallows me whole, heightening all of my senses, including that of smell. I have grown accustomed to the musky smell that this place gives off. The smell is now one that soothes me. It makes me feel at home. I slowly climb down the stairs waiting for my foot to hit the ground and once it does, I take my penlight from my pocket and point it towards the door that stands at the very end of the hall. I quickly cut down the hall, anticipation rising deep within my chest, reaching the door in seconds. I grab the door knob and twist to open. No lock needs to be undone for although what lies on the other side of this door is locked in, the side I stand on is always free, allowing me to come and go without having to fumble with a lock and key.

I open the door slowly and as I step in, I admire what lies in front of me…..

 

Sirens of Change

~ Natal Galvan

I can still here the sirens echoing in the background. The images of hysteria play back in my mind. To think, two decades have passed since then.

A warm and bright afternoon in July, my family from Boston had been in town visiting. It was always an exciting time when they came to visit. My aunt, an incredible cook of Colombia’s finest cuisine, my uncle the funniest and happiest man I had ever known. The two of them had two kids, my cousins, and for the most part we all got along pretty well. Leon was the oldest of the two and was awesome to hang around with. He treated me as his equal although he was 5 years older than I was. He had the humor of his father and the kind heart of his mother. Veronica, his sister, was only a couple year older than me, and by far, way cooler. Growing up, she was who I wanted to be. Anytime our families got together, my sister and I would tag along with her as if we were playing follow the leader. My sister, who was four at the time, followed because it was in her nature to. I followed because all I wanted to do was learn to be cool too.

On this particular day, my cousin Veronica and I were out in the yard laying on the grass, contemplating on what to do with our day. I was never the one out the the two of us to come up with any ideas for I never had any cool ones to come up with. I would take the backseat and follow her lead. This is why I was shocked when an innocent comment on my part, evolved into a moment that would change my life forever.

“I’m in the mood for some sour gummy worms.” I thought to myself out loud. Veronica shot up and mentioned what a great idea that was. “Wait, what idea??” I was clueless.

Instantly a plan was concocted to somehow obtain some money and head over to the store to buy ourselves some candy. Half of our plan was easy, getting to the store. We would just walk there. Sure, it was dangerous. We had to cross an intersection, four lanes of traffic flowing both ways, but all we needed to do was look both ways before we crossed. No biggie. The other half of our plan is what needed tweaking. How would we get money to buy candy? We couldn’t ask our parents. They’d want to know why we needed the money which would lead them to find out we were heading to the store. They’d never just let us walk there.

At that very moment her and I were brainstorming, a neighbor of mine pulls into her parking spot just a few doors down from where we lived. She was the nicest lady ever and I remembered back then I always wondered why she lived alone. That’s when I was struck by another “brilliant” idea. Apparently the second one of the day, I was on a roll. I explained to Veronica that all we had to is get the lady to chit chat with us, we would bring up the fact that it was our friend’s birthday and that we wanted to get to the store to buy her a birthday card and some candy but that we had no money. I was almost sure that the lady would give us some. I wasn’t sure if the plan was full proof but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

By mere luck, or very good acting, we had gotten the lady to donate $10 to the cause. After explaining to her that our parents never had money, her look of pity fell upon us, and due to the fact that she had nothing smaller than a 10 dollar bill in her wallet, let us have it in order to “make your friend happy”.

We couldn’t have grabbed the money any quicker when we heard my mom’s voice calling for us. I stashed the money in the pocket of my neon blue shorts as we walked up to our porch where my mother stood.

“There you two are,” she smiled. “Take your sister to play with you. But don’t go where I can’t keep an eye out for you.” I began to debate immediately. I didn’t want my sister to tag along. This was bull crap.

There’s no arguing with mom… ever. With a frown on my face and heavy stomps of my feet, the final signs of rebellion, the three of us headed down the steps, and only when my mother had gone back inside had we redirected ourselves towards the store.

The walk towards the store, reaching the intersection, those moments feel like a blur to me. Blurry snapshots of events that seem unimaginable, but that happened. One moment the three of us are giggling at nothing in particular, discussing what kind of candy we were all to get. The next moment, we’re almost to the intersection when my sister, who I was holding hands with at the time, pulls from my grasp and darts out and away from of me laughing playfully, her giggles still echoing in my ear.  The world slowed down at that very second.

A small blue car. High pitched screeching. A man runs up to me, he’s so blonde he looks like the sun, and he’s yelling.

“Where’s your mother????!!!…” and he then runs off again. I watch him to see where he runs to when I see the tiny little mound of flesh lying in the street that is my sister. She’s shouting out for my mom, her shouts then over powered by emergency sirens.

It was a miracle that my sister lived. I believe that the fact that she was so small is why she hadn’t been completely destroyed by a car that was going over 50 miles per hour. Her tiny body had been launched almost 50ft. She had broken both legs, lost most of her baby teeth, and had severe road rash to most of her body.

This phase of my life had been full of guilt and sorrow. So much so that today a lot of it still remains in the corners of my heart, shadowing the depths of my mind, only to be felt when I decide to let my guard down. It’s a pain that I will never truly lose for I feel as though I am a big reason as to much of the suffering my sister has had in the past. Even though I feel as though my sister is my twin soul and that our relationship with one another has been lived out through multiple past lives, creating much of the bond that we have today, I know that this tragic even that happened more than two decades ago has bonded us even tighter than we have ever been in any life before.

At the age of 8 is when I discovered tragedy and what it could mean for someone to lose a life. It had been the first time I got to experience first hand pure sadness and guilt knowing that I played a major part in someone  else’s physical and emotional pain. Trauma has made its way into my mind and has camped there for years. Today it’s hard for me to causally cross a street without imagining death lurking there, waiting for me.Today I still cope with what happened all those years ago with flashbacks and anxiety. Still it is a moment in life that I am grateful to have gone through, because no matter how much pain it’s dressed up in, there is a good that is greater than all the darkness it has shadowed. A beautiful light that was bestowed upon a horrific disaster. It took my sister over a year to fully recover. Today she is the most beautiful and loving person I know. She radiates the room when she walks into it with her smile. Today you would never even have imagined that she went through such an ordeal.  Today I am blessed to have her.

040-2 Photo Credit: Natal Galvan, Muse: Natal Galvan, Angie M.

 

 

To The Myself of The Past

~ Natal Galvan

I look back on the last ten years of my life and it amazes me how much I have changed. When I turned 20 I felt like I had been through enough to know so much about life. Maybe compared to others my age I did. I felt like an adult and believed I had known all I needed to know in order to be a productive member of society. I worked very hard, 5-6 days a week between two jobs, and eventually had enrolled in school. I knew how to save and budget my money and did so successfully. I kept up with the bills, paying them all early, never skipping a payment. I made sure I stayed on top of everything, micromanaging every aspect of my life to the point that I had begun to try to micromanage everything and everyone at work. I wanted to always make sure I went above and beyond my responsibilities. I wanted to make sure I always said and did the right thing, even if that meant sacrificing my own happiness. Reading my journals from back then, I relive the stress and the unhappiness I was living day to day. There was always something to be done. There was always someone to please. I read and relive the frustrations and as I do I come to a realization. Back then I used to blame the world. I would get angry and upset if someone didn’t acknowledge the hard work I had put into something or if the sacrifices I was making was being over looked. I blamed the world for being so hard on me and not giving me the easy life that I felt so many others had. The funny thing was, most of my hardships and frustrations were purely self inflicted. I would take upon all these responsibilities, I would go above and beyond, and instead of doing all of that because it was something I wanted to do for myself, I was doing it because I wanted to shine in other people’s eyes. I was looking for that reassurance. I was seeking that approval. I was getting mad at everyone else for not being proud of me, for not appreciating the things  I was doing, when all along I should have been my own biggest cheerleader. I should have been proud of myself.

Today I am way more relaxed. Sometimes I giggle because I believe my mom thinks I may be feeling a little too relaxed, haha. Living life is now much more important to me than spending my time micromanaging it. I began going with the Universal flow of life and haven’t stopped since. This new plan of not really having a plan has been truly working for me. I know it because I’m actually happy. Sure, I took a break from school. Once I started to think differently, things within me changed, and what I was once so set on doing with the rest of my life is no longer something I want to pursue, so it’s back to the drawing board on that one. Sure, I may not have a lot of money like I once did. Yet, it isn’t something that I’m upset about. Money comes and it’ll go. I still get to do many of the things I want to do and the things I haven’t been able to do are just things I look forward to one day doing. That one will come. I breath easier. I laugh louder. I enjoy the days of boredom when I have nothing to do. I enjoy the stillness of those quiet times. More often than not I am able to stop and take in all that is around me and give gratitude for it all.

My 20’s was a period of learning. As I slowly creep into my 30’s I will take all that I learned and apply it, while still accepting all that I will learn as I continue to evolve into the woman I will someday become. If I could give the myself of the past some advice, I’d simply tell her this,

“Stop. Take time to look at the vastness of the world around you. Take time for yourself. Learn yourself. Listen to yourself. Feel what it is that makes you happy. Follow that feeling and never let go. Stay true to your good heart, but most importantly stay true to yourself.”

******

 I don’t fear death because of the act of dying. Death is nothing but a rebirth. I fear death because I don’t want to ever stop learning, even if only for a little while. -natal galvan

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Hindsight

~ Natal Galvan

Nov. 27, 2015

Amazing how quickly life changes. A continuous evolution. A cycle of happiness and sadness. Moments of triumph mixed with moments of failure tainted in despair. I find my shelter in the bubbles of the Witch’s Brew. I find comfort only within these pages. I’ve got no home. My home are the few possessions I carry within my soul. Those no one can take from me. I will no longer stand for the material, not that I ever truly did before, but now I firmly believe that NONE of that shit ever really matters. All of it is impermanent bullshit. What lasts forever no one can touch, an intangible of sorts. All the best things in life no one can touch.

 

Dec. 15, 2015

Sensitivity is drowning me today. Prickly behind the eyes. A throat full of lumps too hard to swallow. I go throughout my day frolicking in wonderment, picking flowers full of thorns and berries coated in poison. Today I’ll listen to every sad song and relate to its every heartbreaking lyric. Not every day is meant to be lived in bliss. Not every emotion ever felt will be a positive one. Cheers to the days that exemplifies balance. Here’s to living through today in hopes of experiencing a better tomorrow.

 

Dec. 16, 2015

“I think everyone is looking for something they already have.” -Jim Carrey

What is it that I already have? For I feel as though I have nothing.

 

************

 

The very next day after this last journal entry I was arrested for Driving Under the Influence. I died that day and was born a new person. It has not been the first bottom I hit. Nor will it be my last. If I look back on it today, I knew a storm was brewing within me. I hid everything behind a smile and with a sip of the Witch’s Brew. I lost myself and instead of setting out to find myself again, I unknowingly decided to allow myself to self destruct.  Hindsight is an amazing thing, but what is even more precious than that is the ability to be present. If I would have been present and acknowledged all that was going on within me I could have avoided so much.

Yet, by not doing so, I opened up the doors to a rebirth.

I look back and read the journal entries of what I feel like have been some of my darkness hours and I don’t feel sorrow or pain. I feel joy. I feel elated. I can see the strength I hold within, the very strength that has gotten me through so much. At the time, I felt weak and alone, when in reality I was everything BUT that. The tough times have shown me how strong I am. They were there to remind me of the warrior I have within. I appreciate every harsh moment because they have built me into who I am at this very moment.

I post this because I know. I have felt what many of you are going through right this very moment. It may seem like you’re alone. It may seem as though you rather get lost in a world of chaos and substance, but you don’t have to. You can be present and avoid the hard road that otherwise lies ahead of you. Your rebirth could go a lot smoother than mine. You’ve just got to slow down and take the time… Take the time to feel, To analyze. Stop and smell the rotting roses because those rotting roses are helping you to see that you need to go and find some light. Listen, truly listen, to that inner self. It is crying out to save you. There is too much pain and sadness inflicted by the world. Be at least that one who listens.

Give yourself a listen.

925268_1424359037835933_790425651_n Photo credit: Natal Galvan

Why Rush Undefined Limits?

~ Natal Galvan

If the sky is the limit than what is the point in rushing? If the sky is the limit why is it that we crush one another when attempting to obtain our dreams instead of extending a helping hand so we can all get there? Surly there is enough sky for all of us?

We lose so much sleep trying to come up with a strategy to life. What moves do we have to make tomorrow? How do we get from point A to point B using the least amount of energy, yet squeezing out enough juice to make us feel satisfied? We dream about the things we want out of life. We waste days day dreaming and toss away perfectly good nights plotting to get where we want to be. We are schemers for the most part, always looking to beat someone out of their dreams and then claiming them as our own. Winners. That’s all we want to be no matter how much of a loser we make everyone else feel like. But fuck those losers right?? This is your life. They have theirs. Let them find their own way.

This way of thinking is exactly what is wrong with society today. The “screw everyone else I need to just do me” mentality is the cycle of thinking that is needed to be broken in order to evolve our social existence into a new and improved entity.

Love. Thoughtfulness. Positivity. Support. These are all things we can give to others without it costing a dime. The price? Maybe a bit of your time but the reward is worth the small price of time. These acts are key to making humanity human again versus the robotic substitute current society has slowly turned us into. But time? Who has time right?? Who has time to be kind, to love, to support, when all you have time for is to rush to complete the next goal on your list? How does one have time to promote positivity  when you’re in a rush to beat the next person out of their social stature.

What if we just stopped for a quick second to think, what does greed really give you?  Take. Take. Take. We drain the universe and barely do enough to replenish it. There is no balance in that. People are always on the move and it’s not long after attaining their goal they’re again rushing off in search of the next quest. The simple things are never enough anymore. Our own dreams, wishes, and goals aren’t even enough. We want what “they” have, even if it wasn’t on our list of “wants” to begin with. We don’t want to be like “them” anymore. We don’t want to be equal. We want MORE than they than they have. We want to be MORE than they are. It’s a game that has no end. A troubling cycle that leaves us more miserable with each level of attainment instead of allowing us to feel achieved and complete.

There are enough resources, enough miracles, enough happiness, and love to go around. The sky has no limit so we can each literally obtain what we want to achieve without having to steal if from someone else. There are different forms of obtaining that which we desire. The way you imagine your desire for something may not be the form in which it’s granted for you, it may be better than you ever anticipated. You just have to trust in the Universe and in how it is conspiring at this very moment to give you what you have always wanted. “If you can dream it, you can achieve it” and the way to achieve it is not only taking the steps in the direction to get there BUT also in allowing the Universe to take you there. Going with the flow of life sometimes is a better way of getting to where you always dreamed of being instead of missing out on living life when constantly coming up with plans and rough drafts on how to get there.

The sky is the limit so why rush? Why get mean and dirty in trying to get what you want?? The sky has no limit. It wont run out of dreams to be accomplished or goals to be met. Life isn’t a race. It isn’t about status and monetary wealth. You’re already failing if that’s the way you’re looking at life for you will NEVER BE SATISFIED. YOU’LL ALWAYS WANT MORE. Instead spend your days living in its NOW. The right now has plenty to offer you. Put forth good thoughts and energy and watch life simply hand over the things you have always dreamed of without having to do so much as to think about them. Instead of literally killing time with plotting and scheming, give life to your right now by enjoying the simplicity of life. Embrace all that comes in and out of your days with love. Take your time in enjoying the sweetness of life around you no matter where you are. Reward yourself with the power of right now. Stop rushing… because the sky is the limit and it is limitless.

003-2 Photo Credit: Natal Galvan, Location: Somewhere in the U.S

 

Missed Opportunity

~ Natal Galvan

**He spent his whole life waiting for her to arrive in order to fulfill many of the dreams he had envisioned for himself…

and then he died.

Once he arrived to heaven he was given the chance to speak to God. He frustratingly asked him,

“Why did you have me return home without allowing me the experience of finding true love and being able to live out my goals and dreams? What had been then the purpose of this experience?” With an air of peace and love God answers him,

“My son, I laid before you many chances to accomplish the dreams and goals you had set for yourself. Each time you allowed them to slip from reach simply because you didn’t want to go through the journey alone, not knowing that you had the strength of me in you to do so successfully. If you would have followed any one of the leads the Universe had arranged for you, not only would you have accomplished goals and turned dreams into reality, but in the course of doing so you would have met who would have been the love of your life in physical form as well as finding the love of life in every form”**

Someone I know inspired this mini story. A soul who lives life sitting on a couch waiting for love to find them in order to finally live out the life they have always dreamed. I see nothing good come of it. All I see is a precious journey being wasted simply out of fear or dislike of having to go through it alone.

Sometimes it is taking the step of venturing out of your comfort zone that allows for grander things to come into your life. Sometimes it is stepping off of that ledge and diving head first into life that saves you from a tragic fall, that saves you from the death of spirit.

Don’t wait to do the things you love. You may never have the chance to do them again. Don’t weaken at the thought of solitude. Be strong and marvel in it. By doing so you will gain strength in yourself, and love and appreciation for yourself. You’ll discover that all your finest treasures have been with you this whole time and the desires you seek will manifest in ways that you never thought possible.

The message is simple: LIVE.

072-2  Photo Credit: Natal Galvan, Location: Santa Monica, CA

 

Hank and the Pineapples

~ Natal Galvan

First off, a Message to Mom:

Mom…. I’m not sure if you read my blogs or not. I think you do and just don’t tell me.

That’s totally fine because I love that you do…

Just a fair warning, This one may disappoint you. Just remember this, I turned out totally fine.

Ok.. Well maybe not totally, but this had very little to do with it 😉

I Love You Woman!

Ok, Now with that said, let’s get back to business. 

The first time I smoked pot is as vivid in my mind as if it were happening right here, right now. One of those childhood memories you never forget but don’t often tell. I was with my friend Harold, who I had met at a school mate’s Barmitzvha in June right before school let out for the summer.

This was the summer before I was to start high school and at this point in my life I wasn’t really into doing much but reading, writing, and what I like to call “nerding” out. Harold was a cool kid for his time. Halfway through high school already, he had his own pick-up truck but since he lived close to my neck of the woods he would always ride his bike to my neighborhood, which for some reason I thought was super cool. We’d hang out with the kids from my hood and either play ball (football) or just shoot the shit until it was time to go home for dinner.

During this phase of my life, my grandparents were living with us to help my mother out with my sister and I. Momma bear was a single parent and so life wouldn’t be so overwhelming for her, my grandparents helped with the responsibilities of taking care of us as best they could. The rule when it came to hanging out with friends, no one was allowed inside the house unless Momma bear was home. We could go outside but had to stay where you could be seen unless you had permission to do otherwise.It was one random day during this summer break that Harold, who everybody but me called Hank, came over a bit earlier than normal. Hank never came by the house early. Like most boys his age, he usually slept in until at least noon. On this day, I remember thinking how odd it was that he had been over to my place so soon. I don’t remember the exact time but I do remember thinking there were still a few hours before mom got home.

My mom and my grandparents liked Hank. He was a nice kid who always showed them respect anytime he was around. Sometimes I think it was because although his parents were together there was not much love in that home and so secretly he liked to pretend our home was his home away from home.

We sat on my porch for a bit talking. I asked him why he was out and about so early. As he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket I noticed he was shaking a little. He went on to tell me about how his father and mother had gotten into a really bad fight. One he had to step into to protect his mother and instead got the brunt of his father’s aggression, so he decided to leave the house for the day. He opened the pack of cigarettes as he spoke and inside was a  lighter, a few cigarettes, and another little baggie but I couldn’t tell what was inside of it. He took out a cigarette and sparked it. It was only then that I noticed the bruising around his throat.

We spent some time talking. He did most of the talking and I most of the listening. Sometimes you just know when it’s best to be silent and so I was.

We had been sitting there in silence when my grandmother poked her head out and asked if I could do her a favor. She was going to be making some fresh cheese (that’s right!!! CHEESE.. mmm) and needed a few gallons of milk from the store.

“Since you’re with the Incredible Hulk, you both can go and he can help you carry them.” she giggled in Spanish. I found her comment funny too. Hank was thinner than any guy I had ever seen. If he stood sideways he literally who disappear. She handed me a few dollars and off we went, on foot, to buy us some milk.

As we walked, Hank pulled out another cigarette. He never smoked so many in a row so I chalked it up to him being stressed from the earlier altercation. This time when he opened the pack, the little baggie that was stored inside had fallen to his feet. He quickly picked it up and stuffed it back in the pack.

“What is that? I noticed it earlier.” I was inquisitive, I’ll admit to that. Most of you by this point would have already known what it was are at least had an idea. I was what you would call a late bloomer with a lot of stuff growing up. I literally had no clue.

“Nothing. It’s just a bag of pot I got earlier before I came here. I was gonna smoke it before I headed home tonight.” He said very matter-of-factly.

“As in weed??” I was stunned. Up until that point I had heard of weed but never had I really seen it before. Not in person anyways. “Let me seeeee!” I demanded.  He took the pack back out of his pocket, opened it up, and pulled out the baggie. Initially I laughed. I had never seen such a small zip lock bag before. I was astonished once I saw all the little Batman’s printed all over the bag. I fiddled with the zip lock, my fingers seeming to be too chubby to open it. Chubby or inexperienced, one of the two. He took the baggie from my hands, “You’re going to bust it open.” he laughed at me and then proceeded to open it up. The smell punched me hard in the face. I didn’t like it, but I did. It was a weird smell and yet I couldn’t stop taking in its scent.

By this point we had just come on the grocery store. It wasn’t far from where I lived and there was a trail in the back of the neighborhood that lead directly there without having to be anywhere close to the road. The trail led right up to the back of the store. Suddenly the idea struck me.

“I wanna smoke it!!!” I jumped, like literally jumped with enthusiasm. In my mind, why not?? It’s not like it was dangerous, or not that I had heard, and trust me, I had already been told many stories from friends who had already tried it (Yep imagine that… BEFORE entering high school kids were already smoking). The summer was in mid-swing. No classes therefore no homework. Mom wouldn’t be home for hours. It was now or never.

“What??!! No WAY!!! Are you kidding me?? We’re supossed to go and get milk and you want to get back high??! Are you crazy??….” He stared at me in bewilderment maybe waiting for an answer that I didn’t give him. “Yea you must be nuts. That or you are already high from the scent.” He must have forgotten that I was still holding the bag. I smirked.

“If you don’t let me smoke some with you…” He cut me off  by snatching the bag back from me. Damn it. He laughs.

“Listen, you wanna smoke some? Fine. But just one hit. That’s it. Then we go in, grab the milk, and head back. Ok?” Maybe it was the fact that he wanted to smoke too that he gave in so easily. Maybe it was because I have never looked so disappointed to have been told no. Either way it didn’t matter. I was getting to try the stuff all the cool kids talked about.

We found the perfect spot to smoke. Behind the grocery store, there was a set of stairs that sat right next to the loading ramp. Unless you were a store employee throwing out cardboard boxes out or there was a truck delivery to the store, no one would be out there to see us.

Hank and I sat ourselves at the very tippy top of the steps that lead to some random door. An emergency exit I’m sure. He pulled out a folded up piece of paper that he had in his back pocket. He opened the baggie that was still in his hands, and dumped the contents of it out on the paper. It was slightly breezy so I made sure to sit in a way to block the breeze from hitting him. He began breaking up the little nuggets and once he was finished, he took a cigarette from the pack, dumped out the tobacco and replaced it with the magical herb. Not all of it fit in the cigarette so he made sure to put the left overs back in the mini zip lock, then tucked that away into the cigarette pack. All of this took absolutely no time. I was so stunned at how little time it took for him to do all of that. It had been one of the coolest things I’d seen.

He sparked the spiked cigarette and inhaled an enormous hit, letting some of the smoke float out of his mouth and then taking it in through his nostrils before it slithered away. That had been the second coolest thing I had seen. I remember thinking he looked like a music video, but I kept that to myself.

He passed it to me. It was now my turn.

I had NEVER ever inhaled smoke before. Not purposely anyways. Sometimes when my family had holiday get togethers, the amount of cigarette smoke that lingered in the air was too much to not inhale. I remember I would always complain about my eyes getting too itchy and watery, but the grown ups were too busy partying that it didn’t matter. Eventually my eyes grew accustomed to it.

As he handed me the cigarette he makes sure to give me a run down on how to inhale.

“Go really slow. Your lungs aren’t used to this yet. And you’re going to cough, hard. It’s normal.” he almost looked worried.

I stared at the stick for a second. Then as the ash built into a long stick of its own, I took a slow drag.

Nothing. I exhaled and a little bit of smoke came out. There was no coughing and there was definitely no buzzing effect. He had said one hit, but who ever does one of anything honestly?? I took another drag. This time deeper and for longer. I felt a burning sensation deep within my chest and as soon as I felt it a HUGE cough escaped me, like flames bursting within a furnace. I thought I was going to suffocate. My eyes watered and my nose started to run. It took me a while to catch my breath and it was only then that I realized Hank was rubbing my back in an attempt to comfort me.

“I told you to only take one!” He said semi-authoritative, semi-jokingly.

“I *cough cough* know but…” I couldn’t even talk. It still felt like my eyes were rolling in the back of my head for some reason. Was this normal? Was that supposed to happen? What if I was that one case of overdosing on Mary Jane?? How tragic. I could see it now:

“Teen dies during summer break when trying Marijuana for the first time!” Fuck watching Reefer Madness. I was living it!

I would be that kid. The example. The one to ruin it for everybody.

“Dude, seriously are you even listening to me?” I came back. Hank had been saying something while I was busy freaking out over my death that hadn’t happened yet. “We need to  put this out and get to buying that milk. Your grandmother is probably wondering what is taking so long.” He was right. She probably was. But how was I supposed to go in the store and buy milk high like this? Was I even high?? I was sure I was. I hadn’t spoken a single word for what had seemed like forever and that was NOT normal. He took in one more big hit before putting it out. He tucked it back into the pack of cigarettes, which now I knew held contraband, and as soon as he placed it in his pocket and we stood up, a delivery truck appeared. He pulled i=onto the ramp towards the unloading area and looked up at us as we headed down the stairs. I was sure he was going to yell at us for being up there, it was just a matter of time. We descended the stairs quickly and as we walked past the truck I noticed huge pineapples on the side of it. Really it was one huge ad of produce. Fruits and veggies were all over this truck but the pineapples were what took a hold of my brain.

The truck driver continued to look at us but had said nothing. His eyes said it all, “You stupid kids shouldn’t be up there..” We just kept walking. I couldn’t take my gaze off of the pineapples. They were so big. They looked like they would have been nice and juicy too. I wanted to cut the tops off, take out the core, and crawl right in. I hadn’t noticed but I had started walking towards the truck. Towards the pineapples.

“Can I help you?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement. A statement as to how weird I was acting, and of course, I couldn’t just respond with something normal. No. That would have been too smooth for my first experience of being high. I responded,

“Your pineapples look juicy.” in the weirdest voice I had ever heard my self speak in. In the background I heard Hank utter something but I couldn’t determine what. I steered away from the truck and away from its driver. I smiled to myself as I replayed in my mind what had just happened. At that moment I looked up and over to Hank and instantly we burst into laughter.

From that point until we reached the house, everything seems like a comical blur. I remember laughing at everything. At the store clerks and their customers, at the way I fumbled with my money when trying to pay for 6 gallons of milk. I mean seriously, who buys that much milk, especially two young kids such as ourselves?? I suspected, that everybody else suspected, that we were up to no good. That was fine with me. It just made everything else seem that much funnier. If only they knew granny was just making some cheese..

We eventually got back to the house with the milk delivered safe and sound.

No one ever suspected a thing. Hank left to deal with his hectic family life. My grandmother got to making her cheese without even a question as to what had taken so long. Maybe we actually hadn’t taken long. Or maybe my grandmother was now on old people time and had lost track. Who knows. My mother came home later on that day. By then I had taken a nap and was feeling only a little cloudy. To my disbelief my mother had stopped at the grocery store before coming home and within her bags of goodies? I am not lying to you, there were two pineapples in one of the bags. Scouts honor.

It would be YEARS before I touched the stuff again. This one time was enough for me. After some time Hank and I lost touch. It was maybe a year out of high school that I ran into him at a friend’s party. He looked awful, as in life had not been very good to him. It broke my heart. He was barely coherent and after just a few minuets of slurred chatter (mainly from his end) he disappeared. I found out later that night that he ended up driving home that night which angered me because anyone that was a true friend wouldn’t have let him drive under those conditions. Apparently he had gotten himself heavy into drugs which really explained his physical deterioration. I never heard of him since.

I think back to this memory and write about it with a big smile on my face. It was something I had gotten away with as a kid. Something that was innocently fun yet if found out about, would have gotten me into so much trouble. My first time smoking pot was a funny experience and I’m glad it happened with Hank. To this very day whenever I eat, see, or even smell pineapples, I think of this time. To me, that day, deep down inside it helped Hank to forget about home for a little bit, while also taking the chance to help me to break me out of my shell and experiencing something totally new in a non-malicious manner. It does make wonder though, how do some kids let themselves get so deep in to drugs of the heavy sort, while others can dab a little in the fun without falling in to the deep end.

This post is dedicated to you Hank 🙂 Hope all is good in the hood 😉

dscf0395-2  Photo Credit: Natal Galvan

 

 

An Unlocked Memory

~ Natal Galvan

I was watching the Skeleton Key alone in my room the other day.The memory that flooded back went a little something like this:

………The fuzzy, anorexic looking, eight-legged critter stood out against the rusty blue metallic mailbox. It seems as though it had been awaiting my arrival. Almost as if it knew that I would be dilly-dallying down that dirt road at that exact moment on that mid-morning day in July. The way I felt that very second, and as soon as the thought of a spider waiting “for my arrival” crept into my mind, I should have taken those as clear warning signs that the day wasn’t going to be an average one.

Standing off to the side of the random driveway, I stared at the spider, hoping to be making it uneasy with my gaze, when a tall woman with silky black skin walked out onto the porch. She planted herself firmly right above the first step, with both arms crossed across her chest.

“What chu’ want girl?” She yelled across the yard in a deep southern accent. I took notice in her colorful hair wrap, which matched her dress down to the very pattern stitched throughout the entire garment. “Just like a tribal woman,” I remember thinking to myself. To me, this woman had seemed very out of place. Being only 10 at the time, I had never seen a woman who looked like this. This was Jersey and I only saw ladies like her on the T.V so can you blame me when the only word that stumbled out of my mouth was “spider”? In the haze of my confusion, all I did was point to the spider while I slowly analyzed the situation. I mean was there a situation? Obviously not satisfied with my explanation on what I was doing on her property, she swiftly descended, the stairs crackling under her weight.

Taking off and leaving nothing more than a sandstorm behind me was what I wanted to do. My body, on the other hand, decided to stay put as if mesmerized with the movement of her dress flowing around her, making every step seem magical. It was as if she were merely hovering above the ground, floating towards me. As she quickly ate up the distance between us, my heartbeat picked up a little more speed and my finger tips frantically fiddled with the hem of my shorts, giving away at my uneasiness. She halted as she reached her mailbox. Her gaze was so fierce it sent a taste of bile into my mouth. Fearing that if I didn’t do or say any thing she might gobble me up with her piercing black eyes, I quickly pointed to the bait that had held me there and got me into this hairy situation. To  my amazement, the little bastard was trying to crawl away, as if saying “My job here is done.” Out of frustration I just wanted to launch it across the yard and almost as if reading my mind, the woman flicked it, sending the the little bug flying into oblivion.  Shock was clearly expressed on my face because although I wanted to flick that little shit myself, I wouldn’t have done it. She did. That kinda scared me.

“Where do ya live girl?” Her voice was gentle, almost as if she were purposely trying to sound that way. The look in her eyes was stone solid. Again left with nothing else, I pointed toward my apartment building. Suddenly I realized how far away from home, from safety, I was. Panic spread through my veins sending a shutter throughout my bloodstream, waves rocking me in what seemed like every direction. “I made homemade peach cobbla’ Would you like to try some?” She asked unexpectedly. The smell of homemade cobbler made its way to my nose as if on cue. Lucky for me I didn’t like peach cobbler, or peach anything for that matter. Finding the voice of reason and as well as my own, I blurted out, “No thank you. I don’t take things from people I don’t know.” Feeling victorious because I had done the right thing, I suddenly stood just a little taller, my chest out, and chin up. Then she said, “Well don’t cha know ya ain’t spose to talk to strangers either girl?”

With that, my white Nikes hit the dirty, pothole-infested road with such speed and agility not even a cheetah could have caught me. There was no way I was going to get caught up in the web of that woman. What if she knew voodoo?? What if that spider hadn’t been just a regular spider. What if it was a kid, just like me, that she tricked into having cobbler and then BAM!!! What if he had been trying to warn me? No wonder she flicked away!!

Reaching my destination before you could even blink twice, I ran up the steps, and into my home. I quickly kicked off my play clothes and hopped in the shower, letting the hot water wash away any traces of spell that could have been placed on me.

Weeks later, way after I put this whole traumatizing situation behind me, my mom and I were at our local grocery store. As we bypass the paper goods section and waltz into the cereal aisle, a familiar black shadow was standing at the far end right in front of the Cookie Crisp, my favorite cereal.

“Hello Sonia!!” My mother yells out in her accented English. “Come! Meet my daughter!” My mom rushes us over, pushing hard against my resistance. “This is my daughter! Nati, I work with her at Resorts!” I simply stood there shocked. Not only did I not care to even grab my favorite breakfast cereal anymore and so by default my mom would get Raisin Bran, but now I also had this scary lady’s eyes laughing at me, while her face stood still like as if this were the first time meeting me.

“Ma, I’ll be in the car.” And with that I turned and left feeling defeated, wishing to never see that woman again………

 

I never did see the “scary” lady again. Just yesterday I had asked my mother about her and she said I was crazy and hadn’t a clue of what I was talking about. The memory of this experience had been locked away until, ironically watching this movie. Funny the things our brain stores away and it only makes me wonder, what else have I up in this attic full of memories? What triggers will later expose other stories waiting to be relived? 

dscf0584-2  Photo Credit: Natal Galvan, Location: Yoga Fest California

I Am That, I Am

~ Natal Galvan ~ 2 Comments

I am.

I am strong, a lot stronger than I give myself credit for. I am a dreamer, some may say that I dream too BIG. I happen to say that I  THINK big. I am friendly. I am nice, even towards those who may not deserve it. I’ve got a huge  heart. I am warm and loving. I am great with kids and animals, although sometimes I feel like I may not want kids and just a shit ton of animals. I am a hippie at heart. I am wanderlust. I am wonder lust. At times I feel like a gypsy in the nomadic sense. I am a hard worker. I am a friend. I am family. I am dependable. I am depended on. I’m loyal and I am honest. I am educated and I am also an intellectual. Just because you are one doesn’t make you another. I am funny. I am sarcastic. I am a writer. I am a painter. I am creative. I am amazing. I believe YOU are amazing. I am special. I am unique. I am an original. I’m supportive. I am interesting. I am interested. I am spiritually rich. I am financially stable. I am happy. I am grateful. I am lovable. I am loved. I am gracious. I am free. I am alive. I am a professional by my own standards, not anyone else’s. I am positivity. I am responsible. I am content although not yet satisfied. I am always striving for more, even though at times I do not know what “more” is. I am a dancer because my soul feeds off of the music. I am a composer because I march to the beat of my own drum. I am a girly girl who simply doesn’t like pink. I am a guy’s girl who hardly follows sports. I am respectful. I am respected. I am ignorant for there is still so much more to learn. I am patriotic. I am sensitive even though I can come off tough. I am brave even though I’m scared. I am the sum of more than one. I am more than just the sum of two. I am passionate. I am just. I am real. At times I can be passive. I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I am healthy. I am helpful. I am who you want to come across when you’re in a time of need. I am full of well intended advice. I am always welcoming to new friends and new experiences even if at first I am slightly guarded. I am guilty of being imperfect in the eyes of others. I am guilty of being the perfect version of me. I am all which the Universe intended, encompassed in a shell of that which holds the inner me.

I Am.

11371236_777019842427240_1279770546_n Photo Credit: Natal Galvan