Magical Doors...

... to other worlds

are only an imagination's

 leap away. 

Leave Your Sleep...

I love the idea of crossing imaginary boundaries.
To smell the color blue
or taste the flavor sadness.
To feel a distant sound
or listen to a lonely weed.
To love an enemy
or trip on a feeling,
that feeling
the one that gives you grief
holding it up to the light to take away its power.
And poetry?
why of course it needs to be sung...
shan't we all leave our sleep at least one day a moon?

To Look Up for Flowers

Your feet shuffle along the small town old American sidewalk, your hands buried inside your fleece jacket. You see lone weeds squeezing themselves up between the cracks and since you feel nice today you don’t stomp on them. After all, you remind yourself, weeds can one day be flowers, too. And you like flowers. At least today.

So you look up. Maybe you missed some flowers? But all you see is a great big building. It has a fancy name but you don’t need to read it. You already know what it is. It’s been there since about the time your father was born. It's old. And brick. Then, as you ponder this silly thought, like a gift, you trip. A tree root jumbled up the sidewalk in a place you didn’t expect. And you fall.

If you hadn’t fallen, you might not have looked anywhere but forward. If you hadn’t listened to your heart, you might have just continued to walk with your head down, avoiding the root and the fall altogether. But you didn’t. You looked up for flowers. And sometimes, as I am sure someone's grandma used to say, falling can be a blessing in disguise.

The patch of grass is bright and dew-strewn green. The poppies are a vibrant Chinese red and you swear they are laughing. The door is purple. The most rich and velvet purple you have ever seen. And behind that door, the door you might have missed had you not fallen, is a house of magic and a family….are you ready for this…of love. To think you might have missed all this had you not looked up for flowers today!

But we shan't think of that any more. Nope. We want to get inside.

You didn’t know your windshield desperately needed you to push the lever to 'defrost'. You didn’t even realize you were gazing through a fog. Until, you walked in…

My words are little black squiggles on this gooey plastic screen and I will freely admit that they are only capable of dancing around the magic I felt that day. I may be a writer but as daddy always said, no one, not even he, can make a coon dog sing.

Little black squiggles...speak:

Colors. Shapes. Imaginariums for my eyes and creativarians for my soul. What is that I feel swirling around my head, laughing and twirling and pumping my heart up so big that I think I must cry? A little boy with a sparkle trailing behind him like a comet, giggles as he runs by. His mama, following behind him, reminds him to tuck in his wings, that guests have arrived and not everyone understands. She smiles at me when she sees my wet eyes. 'On second thought,' she says like an angel herself, 'let them flutter.' But he already knew.

Sometimes we fall in order to meet unexpected, beautiful gifts. But may I remind you? Of what, you quietly say? That the only real fall is when we forget to open our hearts to see the treasures, the magic that has always been there waiting for us to remember it. Thank you, Kristin. Thank you for all your magic, for all your love. I'm soOO glad I fell.

My Favorite Things

Back in the States after being gone for quite a while feels fresh and alive...and fun! People move faster, lights seem brighter, there's new stimulation when we drive by houses and shopping malls and playground packed parks. New faces and feelings, expectations and understoods. There are new electronics, new tv shows, new cars and running shoes and stand up scooters. And me? I feel like all I do is smile and stare and smile some more---in my car, pushing Sofia in the shopping cart, pumping gas, even when we take lazy walks in this beautiful, flower-laden American small town. And maybe, just maybe I make a few smiles myself. I know I gave one. To the bus driver. I was rocking away, singing my heart out in the car and saw him watching me right before I turned. He was chuckling. Chuckling as he drove his bus load of worker bees to their jobs and homes and friends. What a nice man. I'm sure of it.

Some of my new favorite things this week, things that made me smile:

1. Small town American ingenuity: A man mowing his lawn with a riding lawn mower. He mounted a big plush seat from a car onto his riding lawn mower. To ride in comfort! I am still smiling…

2. Annie Chun's Seaweed Snacks: I love how they melt like tissue paper in my mouth. Instant smile. Oh, and they taste salty-delicious, too!

3. New toothpaste: Have you met Natura yet? It’s a new toothpaste that comes in a little bottle with an eye dropper. Liquid packed yum! You can use it like a breath freshener, too. Either way, it's all natural smiles for your tongue!

4. Shelled hemp seed: with the price of pine nuts these days, here is my answer to the craving. They come in tiny bags and have 2000 mgs. of Omega 3's, and all 10 essential amino acids. And best of all, I LOVE the texture and flavor!

5. Bookstores: To walk into a big store with shelves and shelves of paper covers holding even more paper inside, with all of those papers covered in words, creative ideas squished into little rectangular squares…is pure delight. Sometimes, if I stand really quietly I think I can hear the words transforming themselves into voices, swirling like letter clouds, pirouetting throughout the store. Oh, how I miss bookstores down in Mexico. If you can't find me here on my blog, you will surely find me there, nose in a book.

Ok, so after you watch the bonus video, it's your turn! What gave you new smiles this week?

Run with Me?

I slip my feet into my well worn running shoes, carefully lacing them up. I pull my pony tail through the little window in the back of my cap, tighten it around my head one last time and smile because I know I’m almost ready to go. I don’t stretch. I don’t groan. I don’t even take a deep breath. But already my heart is beating fast. I’m a wild horse, about to be set free. I can hardly wait.

I love to run. And running in my sleepy little Mexican town is as good as it gets. Wanna come? You might even find you like it, too.

It’s not so easy at first with all the mix-matched cobblestones jutting out here and there. It’s best to leap and skip and be a silly sight. But don’t worry, it’s not for long. And usually no one is around to watch. Or at least I haven’t heard any giggling yet. We round the corner, dodge a couple of sleeping dogs, and then we’re in the center of town. The taco lady looks up from her sizzle to give us a smile, her silver tooth catching a flicker of the sun. We smile back. It would be impossible to do otherwise.

Before you know it, we’re on our way out of town. The road rises up, the jungle leans down, and if you’re anything like me, your senses suddenly open wide. You breathe in the scent of mangoes, hear the bees, see the long tail of a blue magpie jay dance from tree to tree. You feel alive, free, infused with energy and hope, the scent of the sea riding the breeze as it gently whispers on your sun happy face.

It’s hot. Boy, is it hot. But it feels good. Like a cleanse. You sweat it all out. The stress, the worry, the things you forgot and the things you didn’t mean to say. Its just you and nature, your feet pounding the ground, your heart beating wildly, your pulse riding the wave with a smile all its own. All its own.

Its not until we start back into town that you notice how many people are out. Store owners readying their wares, patrons eating breakfast, employees sweeping the dirt along the street. They look up as we pass. Lucia puts her arm on top of her broom. Mario leans back in his plastic chair. Even busy Mama stops for a moment to see when we will slow our pace. “Go, go, go!” the butcher yells, his laughter kind and contagious. Yep, contagious.

And you? You smile. Smile like you haven’t smiled in years. Somehow you feel more connected than you did just yesterday. As if you are really a part of things, a human cog in the wheel of life--necessary, unique, appreciated and loved. That’s what jogging in my sleepy little town does, it reminds me, and now you, that when life is its simplest…its simply good.

How to make a Moon, Magic!

*Please note: these pictures are not mine. I was sent them in an email. If anyone knows who's they are, please let me know. I would love to give credit where credit is due.

Thank you, Marilee!

Yesterday morning I found the most beautiful rock sitting like a lost puppy on my stoop. I opened my heavy wooden door and just like that, there it was. A gift from—who? It couldn’t have fallen there and I didn’t think it was a ‘this-looks-fun-to-throw’ type either. And besides, the little boy who used to throw rocks at my house had moved away. So where did it come from? How did it find its way to me? Was it magic? Of course it was magic!

Marilee lives beyond two walls and past a dirt field from me. She has a dog, a boyfriend with the biggest dreadlocks I have ever met, and a voice that sounds like honey. Every time I see her I feel a little flicker inside my heart. I know its because she is pure kindness, that just like her voice, she’s as close to honey as a person can get. So when I saw that beautiful rock on my stoop, I just knew it had to come from her.

Marilee?

Ya, hon?

Was it you?

Me, what?

Did you give me the pretty rock?

(laughter) (smiles)

I found it today at a new beach and thought you might like it, so I brought it back for you.

They say we create our worlds. That what we decide, is. In other words, whatever world we envision, is the very world we live in. If I think people are mean, they will be mean. If I think people are kind, they will be kind. If I think the world is filled with beauty and magic, then it will be filled with beauty and magic.

When Marilee read my blog, she saw that I believed in magic (and that I liked rocks). She could have laughed (well, maybe she did), or she could have shuffled me off to the side, another freak to be avoided, but she didn’t. She listened. She ingested. She heard my heart, saw the world I believed to be true. And…best of all…perhaps without even thinking, she instinctively wanted to support my vision of the world. Why else did she see a pretty rock and bring it home for me? Because life is magic? Because life IS magic. Wanna join us?

And the Winner IS....!

Benjamin Francis Smart is going home with a big red ribbon to.....

BELLA!!!!

Now guess what the rest of you, my truest and dearest fans, get to do? To be one of the first to buy Benji's story, to support Brynne's ache to write, and to grow just a little bit more magic...inside yourself. How great is that??!! Hooray!:)


Links
Print copy: Lulu
Electronic copy: Amazon
Connect with me on Goodreads: Brynne Betz
Follow me on Twitter: @presenceofmagic
And be sure to 'like' my page on Facebook!

Thank you to everyone who entered! More fun to follow soooOn!!

A Girl and Her Bird

When she was born the world shrunk a little smaller as they peered in the window to see what she would do. Horses stopped their galloping to turn and sniff the air. Taxis made wrong turns, piling up curbside at the foot of her house. Even a parakeet stole out of its cage making its way to the wailing baby’s side like a magnet returning to its source. It was a blustery, violent sort of Spring eve, the trees outside her house rustling and shaking and quivering in fear. But the parakeet held on with his determined little claws, waiting for a way in, to complete what he set out to do.

           

The window was open a mere moment when the little guy landed his feather-strewn body on its ledge. And as soon as he saw the new born babe kicking and screaming in its crib, he started to sing. He sang as he had never sung before, a parakeet symphony worthy of applaud. But all they could do was stare. And blink. And stare some more. Especially when the angry babe found herself lullabyed to sleep. By a bird! A vagrant bird!

 *          *          *

Such was her entry.

Now for her exit.

  *          *          *

Most nights I would slip into the depths of my dreams with a bit of moon lighting my way. Maybe a mystic sliver, maybe a thin ray of ribbon, or maybe just a quiet little glisten on the raindrops. It didn’t really matter to me. I just knew she was there to guide me. To guide me to my dreams.

This night though, the darkness hovered and hissed until it rested its weary head like a heavy burden on top of my quiet, gentle home. We were blanketed in black. I tried to sleep but I couldn’t find my way. I tossed and turned. Swallowed and sighed. And just as I started to dissolve into sleep…

B------riiiiiiiing!

I felt electrocuted, throwing myself onto the phone.

“Hello,” I whispered, out of breath.

“She’s dead. Your mother is dead.”

But I knew my mother was in her room, asleep.

“Pops?” I said to my grandfather, “This is Brynne. Are you ok?” My hand was shaking. My toes already frozen with cold hard fear.

“She’s dead.” His voice quivered and shook. “Your grandmother is dead.”

I dropped the phone and ran.

Ran to my sweet mom.

And then…

I ran to the only place I knew my grandmother might still be. To the parakeet’s cage in the corner of windows overlooking the garden downstairs.

But I was too late. She had already been there. Already invited him to sing her way home just as she had when she was born. His feather-strewn body lay lifeless. Gone was his spunk. Gone was his song. But his spirit, that spirit that had lived in so many parakeets over my grandmother’s life? That--had multiplied. Multiplied and morphed and molded itself into a story. This story. And like most good stories, it was shared.

 

Creativity Manifested!

A brief visit to nature (and Bach!) and the beauty that emerges when we take the time to be creative: