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Saturday, October 1, 2016


"May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, 
enough trials to make you strong, 
enough sorrow to keep you human 
and enough hope to make you happy." –unknown

Today is a long train ride to France. I am moving into a daydream, on an all-day ride from Florence, Tuscany in Northern Italy, to Marseille, on the coast of Southern France. Life is exceptionally interesting and I'm amazed at how often I surprise myself.

There is a quality of naturally occurring acceptance, present in my traveler-self. I feel as if I am continuously outside of my own box but within the limitations of the foreign atmosphere which surrounds me. 

Traveling provides a sense of a bigger picture, even when personal tragedies arise. No longer does argument or heartbreak pose disruption. Instead, my inner strength stems from a healthier feeling emotion, like tidal waves carrying myself onto a different shore. Then, each moment after, this transformational sensation of surrender to elements out of my grasp break my soul wide open. 

I am cultivating a self-assured confidence that releases habitual self-doubt, providing within myself an acceptance of the Oneness holding me to her breast. My choices become reflections of the growing crush I have upon my personal journey. 

Sands of time continue lapping at my consciousness, they are undulating a growing sense of unconditional love of Me. All Alone and still, also All One. I am a part of this world water as well as the earth under my footsteps. Out of place, far from home but curious and gentle. Simultaneously, familiar and foreign. I travel on.

"Walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet" -unknown

Please share in the comments below, what far away places you have explored on your own?

Saturday, September 17, 2016

Storm sojourn

A video posted by Tamara Jean (@danceupontheearth) on

It was almost dark, but I decided to run down the three flights of stairs out into the street as the rain continued to flush the Mediterranean air with her blessing. I wanted more strawberries. 

There is a lovely little grocery just a few buildings down from my apartment and it is open usually from morning until 1, then again around 4 until after dark. When I popped my head under the outdoor cover, I noticed the tiny shop was full of people. I also didn't spot any strawberries left and I really didn't want to stand still and wait in the stormy evening chill. So I sped off into the coming night, taking the ancient, steep stone stairway down to the next street.

I noticed the high walls surrounding me, blocking the wind and I felt warm.

Then I skirted along the cliff side for perhaps a half mile to the slightly larger supermercado. The elderly man at the counter greeted me at the door and let me in. The strawberries at this shop are always more red and ripe than what I find anywhere else so I collected two bins. When I inquired about viƱo, he sent me downstairs.

 I was given a personal tour of all the local vintage wines, with an authentic atmosphere of underground stone chambers, shop dogs play barking deeper in the interior, and of course dust on every label which we wiped clean.

I had a lovey walk home again, along the sea cliffs of Italia in rain which didn't get me wet. My arms cradled two bottles of the vintage wine, grown from the ancient lineage of grapes upon these same European steppes. 

I walked quickly, breathless in the early night air- dodging cars into the tall stairways that took me up up up into the pearly stars creeping from behind the clouds of the stormy sky.

When I walk these same streets by daylight, there are always jovial hellos and compliments hitting me from every angle. I hear the whispers and the toss of the language echo in my ears. 'Ciao bella!' Is like a blessing that curls and cascades like a grapevine that tangles in my hair. I'm in a maddening daze of Spanish and French sounds reacurring from my past, which haunt me as my tongue clicks to hit this more lively Italia beat, 'Bongiorno (Bone-Juor-Noe)" I try to slur it to the common upbeat. 'Bonasera,' ' Gratzie!' Every phrase a lyrical melody.

This land is made of cliffs, where each home is built into the seaside, cascading up out of stone-rocky walls, towering into steepled gardens of lemon, orange, pomegranate and olive trees. I peak between each crack in the 400 step high staircases. There are villas and courtyards with fountains and mosaics and painted tiles, ceramic pots and sculptural art. I see lettuce in rows and tomatoes vining through the gates.

The addresses are set into the stone walls upon glazed tiles which state the family title, like casa de Giovanni and the streets become these names and the people are these places.

The locals are all very kind to me here, even popping their heads out the shop doors as I briskly walk past and flatter me with English phrases like, "Your look is very nice!" And, " Hello, you are welcome here!"

Life is be brimming with the unexpected, especially if we each allow ourselves to open our personal doors. Please remember to practice self love and acceptance and not get boggled down into fear. 

Do what you can to make life special and magical each moment and this vibration will permeate out into time ripples that will surely change us ALL.

Use your energy to focus on the positive possibilities that are all equal options in our midst. I know we can do this. Love is the most powerful force, when we truly know how to practice and love every single moment of it.

Please share with me the opportunities you are choosing to embrace in your life right now!

Comment below

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

Featured Story

I am so honored to share with you a recent creative piece of mine, which was published on Pmexplore. Please check it out!

“They say to dance like nobody’s watching. I think that implies that we are afraid or ashamed to dance in front of the people. I say dance like everybody’s watching. Dance like your children are watching, your ancestors, your family. Dance for those who are hurting, those who can’t dance, those who lost loved ones and those who suffer injustices throughout the world. Let every step be a prayer for humanity! Most of all, dance for the Creator, who breathed into your soul so you may celebrate this gift of life!” – Supaman

Saturday, August 27, 2016

Best Day on Earth

The following is a creative summary I wrote for Rough Guides, inspired by their topic, "My Best Day on Earth"

My best day on Earth is happening right now. It feels smooth, rough, rotten, wind blown, in-my-face dirt, grit and grime. I'm hanging off a cliff on a rocky precipice of canyon side overlooking Fossil Creek in Southwestern Arizona, USA.

The air stings my smiling cheeks. It is nighttime and the full moonlight is shaded on this side of the mountainside. The shapes nearby me are mostly still, but occasionally quiver in the starlight, tricking my eyes, nearly igniting my fear of hungry wild cougars. I know this is an expansively rocky, cactus filled, red dirt terrain. By daylight the paths were dappled shade on a steep canyon face. There is a majestically clear stream below me. I have climbed so high, its lulling splish-splash sounds do not reach me.  The sight of the fresh water moving steadily in small rapids over the desert stones, fostering rich green vegetation in its current, is fresh in my mind. 

The Sun descended a small ways back, when I was still on the trail. Then, I encountered a pack of javelinas. They had surrounded a small cotton tail rabbit, its tiny white tail shone stark in the night as I watched it scamper away, taking advantage of the distraction I had momentarily created in the midst of the hunt. My black boots crunched on the sharp gravel as I slowed my fast pace and dodged off the path, just in time to hear the snarls and grunts rushing past me. Night birds are churrring in the sky above. I press my face into the cool, sharp boulder at my shoulder. It smells like red dust, as do I. 

So here I am. Keeping my senses sharp, alert for the silent stalk of a mountain cat. The best moment of my best days on Earth. Adventure seething through my blood. My heart pounding in my chest. The moon moving higher from behind the mountain, now a small orb climbing through the limitless sky.

 I crouch, tucked in the shadow of a saguaro cactus against a sandstone boulder, listening to the swish and swash of the pine branches in the night. A sensation of cold air sweeps under my hat brim, blowing into my left ear. I've turned my head slightly to the side, so I can still keep hold of the canyon face and also my hat on my head in the accelerating wind. The stars above me grow brighter, as I breath deeper and struggle to take it all in. A deep breath, then, I move on. 

Uncurling my long legs from beneath me, I step back onto the path. Many miles later, upon the top of this mountainside, I pry my chilly arms from my chest and crawl into a warm sleeping bag. Feeling completely at home in the wide, wild world and grateful to have returned to the familiar smell of my bedroll, I drift off to sleep in a soundless dream.