Thursday, August 20, 2015


A piece about the beautiful and equally difficult time of my first year traveling + about those that inspired, challenged, and made me love a little better and harder. That year redefined love for me. Deepest gratitude to Kaspars, my family, and of course, my bestest, Dupsis Fruktis, Lionda Liepina
P.S I wrote this song when I went home to the U.S last year and realised for the first time how undone I was. I am still coming back together. I wrote it on an old pinao and recorded it as a voice memo on my iphone. Big thank you toTim Pontin, who picked it up in no time from the shitty recording I found hidden in my e-mails. I couldn't even give him the chords. He just listened and boom, two seconds later, he was playing it. The lyrics are on my blog:www.mcreativecorner.blogspot.com

Cambodia //

Everything I knew faded so fast, like snow beneath my feet.
And everywhere I went, they already knew you provoked me to wake the hell up.
Paint my spirit back to hues of cold.
Don't fall in love with me, don't fall in the love with the wind in the trees.
Birds are refugees, just like you and me.

Indonesia //

Sunshine, moonshine, I'm fine. I'm hard to kill.
Don't call. I don't care. To be fair, you live in me.
We made the agreement to meet the juncture of our earthbound lives.
But don't fall in love with me. Kiss my wings and set me free.
Birds are refugees, just like you and me.

Australia //


Our hands are fists. I feel so tired.
I know it's not home but it feels alright.
And what good is blood when all I need is water.
And what good am I if I am not flying high, by your side.

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Fiction vs Friction Series

I remember the moment when, in a Holdenism sort of manner, I decided there are two kinds of people in this world: those who are here to experience it, and those who, unbeknownst to themselves, will work as an enigmatic vessels for reconstruction. 

The ‘experiencers’, they will live. Oh how they will live. They will laugh, and cry, and have babies. They will succumb to the monotonous cyclical obligatory patterns of society. And life will spin them like a pair of sneakers in a LG SteamWasher. They will spin until they can’t hold on anymore. They will spin until they crash. Chemical biological phenomena will occur.

The earth will take a deep breath.

It is a beautiful process, too much for words, too much for song, too much for film, too much for books. Then, slowly, the washer will start to turn again, and they will want pets, and host family BBQ’s, and argue about the color of their bedroom wallpaper. And they will make love. And they will make hate. And everything will feel far grander than reality. How I bloody envied these people. Although I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted what they had, nothing is as appealing of a thing or idea or person that is deemed taboo, or completely unavailable. And as I shuffled my feet to an old folk song, and bore the weight of my glued-on smile, I knew in that moment that it was the truth: all that life was not for me. I was not an ‘experiencer.’

The music slowed, and I made my way to a chair and sat down. A few grandmothers aside, I was one of the few sitting. I contemplated Universal shifts, and wondered if it was all too much to shoulder. My heart felt heavy, but in case someone took notice, I kept my smile. I watched the men turn the women by their hips. I watched the women throw back their heads and laugh. And it made me happy and sad all at once. A few slow songs later, I still sat there, uncomfortably grinning. Don't give yourself away. I don’t care that I am the only young girl sitting. This will be easier when you are older, I told myself. People won’t stare. I don’t care.

And that’s when he grabbed my hand, pulled me up, in, and close. His breath smelled of a man who’d surrendered his mind to the open bar. His hands were sweaty, sweaty on my ass. He was older, and I wondered how long he’d been watching me. Maybe it’s not a pity dance if they’re old enough to be your father. I let him nuzzle his face on the curve of my neck, closed my eyes, and as he spun me around, I tried to forget, tried to forget that enigmatic vessel, the task that I was utterly clueless about. I tried to forget the man I once I loved. I tried to forget I had to let it all go. Let it all go.

The vessels. They have to let go, or get dragged. Get dragged to every pivotal life event where they feel out of place, and obediently hang around in some corner at their sibling’s wedding. Constant, subtle, numbing, dulling reminders - this is not for you. Inevitably, these vessels will drown themselves in work. Where else do you hide? They’ll blame their work, their boss, their passion. And the experiencers, they will resent. You were absent. You didn't care. But it’s not true. The often-unconscious signs of simply passing through this world are not without consequence and pain. Some will do their part, and drink themselves do death. Some will overdose. Some will just die, alone. When their work is done. Unbeknownst to themselves. Done.

I remember that moment, I knew, but still, still I closed my eyes and pretended that drunken clown wasn’t wired to walk away. I closed my eyes and reformed the temperature of his body, the scent of his skin, and our fundamental difference. Experiencer. Vessel. For a millisecond, I imagined myself unaware, laughing, drunk, spinning around on the dance floor, stupidly happy - like everyone else.




Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Mirror Mirror On The Wall ...


After living on an island, one of the most considerable adjustment that I've had to make with returning back to 'civilization' is getting re-accustomed to mirrors. Not just actual mirrors (that are everywhere!) but also things that that injure as mirrors often do - reflective windows, people's looks, and mostly all the abrasive and insistent marketing. Everywhere I turn I am being shown how I ought to look. With most everyone I meet, I strongly feel the appraisal of my physical sheath and the things that adorn it vs. my energy and heart. It is uncanny and so felt. The uncentering ways of these manipulative vibrations and images can weigh heavy. It's been a beautiful month of observation and taking note + pausing, re-grounding, and strengthening. I am grateful for this new-found awareness and the opportunity to strengthen my ability to stay centered and work in this world from the inside out. 
"You are also a formless existence, but you know yourself not directly, but from others’ eyes. You know through the mirror. Sometime, while looking in the mirror, close your eyes and then think, meditate: if there was no mirror, how could you have known your face. If there was no mirror, there would have been no face. You do not have a face; mirrors give you a face. Think of a world where there are no mirrors. You are alone – no mirror at all, not even others’ eyes working as mirrors. You are alone on a lonely island; nothing can mirror you. Then will you have a face. Or will you have any body? You cannot have one. You do not have one at all. We know ourselves only through others, and others can only know the outer form. That is why we become identified with it." - Osho

Saturday, December 20, 2014

Sexual Abuse in the Satyananda Yoga Lineage

What is coming to light about child and sexual abuse in the Satyananda Yoga Lineage. This is article presents facts, amongst the author's own views. Shocking, hard to read, but wanted to share as it's important to be aware of as yoga continues to evolve in the west.

http://matthewremski.com/wordpress/boycott-satyanandas-literature-and-methods-until-reparations-are-made-for-sexual-abuse/

Friday, December 19, 2014

Death, love, and meditaiton.




A few days ago I was going to Mataram with Marjan. We were driving on his motorbike, and I thought to myself, I am so happy. I was so happy that I feared I would die that day. I have never felt this before. I now know that I was feeling an extended instance of raw bliss. There was a part of me that was (and most likely still is) in fact, dying. My infantile mind didn’t know how to process this and took it as it does most things: rather literally. Fear came, but the vibration of happiness was far more intoxicating. 

I held onto Marjam, the breeze in my hair, the monkeys in the trees, so in love with everything, and I thought, "it must be time to go". I was just too happy, entirely too content, and immediately intimidated by this deep happiness. It felt like an abyss. It felt like it was going to swallow me. At the time, I made no mention of my feelings and tried to brush them away. 
Now I understand. Well, no, I do not understand. But now I have seen a little bit more, and I understand that I didn’t understand (and most likely, don’t understand)much at all. 

"Death always occurs in the present. Death, love, meditation - they all occur in the present. So if you are afraid of death, you cannot love. If you afraid of love, you cannot meditate. If you afraid of meditation, your life will be useless. Useless not in the sense of any purpose, but useless in the sense that you will never be able to feel any bliss in it. It will be futile. It may seem strange to connect these three: love, meditation, death. It is not! They are similar experiences. So if you enter in one, you can enter in the remaining two." - Osho. 

Monday, November 17, 2014

Photography by Alba Giné










This was the most organic experience. I have never felt so simple and relaxed around anyone. Alba IS soul and an incredible visionary and artist. Please check out her work and events on https://malbadas.wordpress.com




Thursday, September 25, 2014

The Continuation, Original written on May 10th, 2014. 1:49am

I woke up from a dream, grabbed a pen, and began writing.

I have been afraid. I have been afraid of love. I’ve been living under the delusion that it is one way when it is not. Love is just love. It is not the old ball and chain, or the horse and carriage. It doesn’t have to look on me the way it looks on others.

I am afraid that with love, life will stop. Society has told me it will. But with love, there will be oneness and an abolishment of duality. Life will not just NOT stop, but it will flow, and expand, and bring me closer to the core of myself, and therefor all beings.

I now realize that my mind has been tied up in mistruths, a dense and deep-rooted miseducation – and up until this point, up until this moment of waking up in a sweat, in the middle of the night, in Australia, on May 10th, 2014, my mind has been telling me that with love I have to conform. That with love I will have to ‘settle’, and begin moving through the motions. First you are free, and then you find someone, and you are not.

Intellectually, I have rejected the physical thoughts, the projection onto me, but there was so much to be undone. A 27-year-old garden – fucking full of weeds. I could tell myself as much as I wanted to, ‘you don’t want to live this way’, but underneath were old seeds, working against my truth. Tonight I see them, and I pull them out.

Love is greater. I don’t want to and don’t have to feel like a ‘wife’. I don’t have to be a wife. Period. I still remember how the men in the office at South Bay would react when someone told their wives were on the phone. I still remember the grins and the high fives when the mistresses would drop by. I kept my eyes on the computer screen, and told myself, you will never be the wife. I was 18 and my young soul was hurting, and it wasn’t just shields that came up with that ache, but weapons. I didn’t want to just protect myself; I wanted to play the game and fight. I don’t know why. Maybe my ego or upbringing, but that is what occurred. In that moment, I utterly rejected the idea of partnership. My young self also didn’t realize it’s not so black and white and that I worked with a bunch of assholes.

Bottom line is, I don’t have to feel lesser than a mistress. I don’t have to have children, or partake in any of the domestic white picket fence shit that makes me nauseous. I don’t have to be a traditional wife or push out offspring. I am and can be none of those things and still be love. And the souls that my soul is already bound with will understand this.

Life doesn’t have to stop or be a certain way. Our souls can continue to orbit this earth, explore together, grow together, and be un-uniform. We’ll see past the fog and past the unspoken laws. The souls that my soul is already interwoven with have been waiting for me to wake up 1:40am and realize with what ludicrous fear and social condition I’ve been living with. I didn’t see this.

The thickness of the untruth we’ve existed in. Traditions are truth for many, I am sure, but for me, it is hard to swallow. Love is life. Love is infinite. It expands, elevates, and wraps you up in the fabric that binds us all and through it you are never suppressed. And for some it may look like the picture that was painted for us, but not for me.

With love, I only go deeper into myself. It does not end things for me. It does not begin things for me. It runs in an infinite circle. It’s a reminder of the beautiful wholeness, the continuation. The continuation. The continuation. It just occurred to me.

I’ve been in love all along.