Water song 

Stone Dam / Kauai Dec 2016

Limpia madre mis ojitos 

Y Abre mi corazón 

Cura mi cuerpesito 

Bendice mi espíritu 

Agua agüita pura 

Fluye fluye multicolor 

Para que todos tus niños 

Puedan sentir tu amor. 

Oh agüita fervorosa 

Transforma mi dolor 

Llévate muy caudalosa 

Las memorias del temor 

Ven cantando tu canción 

Que me alegra el corazón 

Ven bailando tus mensajes 

Que me curan con amor 

Agua madre divina 

En tu vientre soy picaflor 

Voy abriendo voy fluyendo

Y en la noche soy tu canción 

Voy abriendo voy fluyendo 

Y tu esencia es mi perdón 

Agua madre divina 

En tu vientre soy picaflor . 
Lila – Kauai Dec 2016

Water song translation:
Mother cleanse my eyes 

And open my heart

Heal my little body 

Bless my spirit 

Pure  pure water

Flow flow multicolor

So that all your children 

can feel your love. 

Oh fervorous waters

Transform my pain 

Take with your mighty force

The memories of fear 

Come singing your song

That fills my heart

Come dancing your messages

That heal me with love

Water Divine Mother 

In your womb I am hummingbird 

I’m opening I’m flowing 

And at night I’m your song 

I’m opening I’m flowing 

And your essence is my forgiveness 



When we come together as one

 And we open our hearts

And let our voice rise up 

We let love in 

And the light within 

Sparks between you and me 

And we elevate the vibe 

That holds duality up on a thread of doubt

We remember to trust 

To surrender to let Jah guide 

We recognize the one 

By dancing prayers to the land 

We bow our heads down 

To the beauty all around 

Holding space for the growth 

That occurs as we let go

We give thanks once again 

For this gift 

This present moment 

Is all we have!
Mahalo Ke Akua to this Aina, for its gentleness, its beauty, its magnificence that blasts me open everyday and never ceases to amaze me.  


May 2016

Letter to self . To you. From someone. 

“So it’s been raining more than usual on me this month — the melancholia, the open pores of my own longing, the bleeding wounds of our transgressions, still longing to be healed, the fragility of the human heart, the deep layers of ache stored in our souls, the constellations of our hurts and joys — one day the light, another the vast emptiness we carry. I think of how damn little we know or let ourselves be known, when we half-smile and say we’re fine, of all the stories of survival and of sorrow hiding not just in another’s heart but bleeding through our own.

There is a door around each heart guarded (and often heavily locked) by its owner, which cannot be unlocked by anybody else — no matter how hard love can try to break & enter you, or how badly you want it, need it, beg it to save you. 

Unless you, of your own accord, decide it’s time to finally forgive yourself for all the hurt you’ve caused or received, and let life fill your lungs anew. 

Nobody else can ultimately save you from yourself. Nobody else will save you BUT yourself. 

For those of us who’ve known real darkness, while lost in the valley of the shadow of death, our logic often fails us, sometimes there REALLY is no light, no logical belief, no factual reason to keep going.Nothing you say or do to me deep in that cold night of the soul will make me jump for joy and put a smile on my face. Don’t bother.

But what I found works in my case is not striving for joy & heaven but simply lessening the load of hell and getting through the day, freeing myself from the foreverness and the impossibility of my burden, to merely learning to be right here & now, and carrying it for just ANOTHER DAY.

Please don’t go yet. Today is NOT the day you die. 

You are not your past, the mistakes you’ve made, the happiness you’re feeling cheated out of. 

You are not the hurt you still carry, the losses that keep piling, the stories of survival they forced you to accept as yours. You’re not the cage, you are the bird that sings it open. 

You are the the storyteller, the creator, the hand behind the wheel. Even when all the roads are blocked, new ones are waiting to be walked into existence — by your feet. 

There’s poetry still dripping from your fingers, miles of metaphor & skin to be explored, a truer world sprouting like grass among the ruins of your life. 

It’s just the way it is down here. Some will leave you & others will stay. Some will break you & others will love you back to life. Just show them, as you show yourself, the way back in. 

And all this waiting, this aloneness, this becoming, this exile from yourself is just another stubborn way the spirit takes you home, in human chests, where you belong. 

You haven’t seen it all. There’s beauty still in store that will collapse your lungs, there’s laughter trapped inside your bones, as if they’d never known the taste of breaking, there is new life you will create unlike the one that trapped you, there’s trust as if you’d never lost a damn person or thing, and you will bless the fires that brought you to this love. 

Know that the lack of music can also be a song, the emptiness prepares you for the rising, the darkness can’t be spared but it can be danced in, and all these disappointments are but sidetones of a truer love affair with life.

Don’t go like this. Too bright. Too short. Too soon. Your loss diminishes me. Your life is an unfinished chapter in my story. You ache is burning through my lines. You may feel ready to let go, but we are not. 

Wherever you are. Whoever you are. However we got here. 

I love you. I know you. I am you. 

Please stay.”

(Excerpt from an article I can’t find the link to ;( Please pass it on to anyone feeling down) 

En un reino encantado (Spa & Eng) 

En un reino encantado donde los hombres nunca pueden llegar, o quizás donde los hombres transitan eternamente sin darse cuenta…En un reino mágico, donde las cosas no tangibles, se vuelven concretas…

Había una vez…
Un estanque maravilloso.

Era una laguna de agua cristalina y pura donde nadaban peces de todos los colores existentes y donde todas las tonalidades del verde se reflejaban permanentemente…

Hasta ese estanque mágico y transparente se acercaron a bañarse haciéndose mutua compañía, la tristeza y la furia.

Las dos se quitaron sus vestimentas y desnudas, las dos, entraron al estanque.

La furia, apurada (como siempre está la furia), urgida -sin saber por qué- se baño rápidamente y más rápidamente aún salió del agua…

Pero la furia es ciega, o por lo menos, no distingue claramente la realidad, así que desnuda y apurada, se puso, al salir, la primera ropa que encontró…
Y sucedió que esa ropa no era la suya, sino la de la tristeza…
Y así vestida de tristeza, la furia se fue.
Muy calma, y muy serena, dispuesta como siempre, a quedarse en el lugar donde está, la tristeza terminó su baño y sin ningún apuro (o mejor dicho sin conciencia del paso del tiempo), con pereza y lentamente, salió del estanque.
En la orilla encontró que su ropa ya no estaba.

Como todos sabemos, si hay algo que a la tristeza no le gusta es quedar al desnudo, así que se puso la única ropa que había junto al estanque, la ropa de la furia.

Cuentan que desde entonces, muchas veces uno se encuentra con la furia, ciega, cruel, terrible y enfadada, pero si nos damos el tiempo de mirar bien, encontramos que esta furia que vemos, es sólo un disfraz, y que detrás del disfraz de la furia, en realidad… está escondida la tristeza.

In an enchanted kingdom where men can never reach, or perhaps where men pass forever without realizing …
In a magical kingdom, where no tangible things become concrete …

Once Upon a time…

A wonderful pond.

It was a lagoon of crystal clear and pure water where fish of all existing colors swam and where all shades of green were permanently reflected..

To this magical and transparent pond, they approached to bathe, becoming each other’s company, sadness and anger.

Both, their clothes they removed, and bare their souls as the two entered the pond.

Fury, rushed (as is always with rage), urged without knowing why, bathed faster and even faster he came out of the water …

But anger is blind, or at least not clearly able to distinguish reality, so naked and in a hurry, he put on, upon exiting, the first clothes he found …

And it happened that this clothing was not his, but that of sadness …

And dressed in sadness, anger left.

Very calm, and serene, ready as always to stay where it is, comfortable, sadness finished her bath and without any trouble (or I rather say, without awareness and consciousness of the passing of time), lazily and slowly she left the pond.

On the banks she found that her clothes were gone.

And As we all know, if something sadness does not like it is to be bare and naked, so she got the only clothes beside the pond, the clothing of fury.

They say that since then, often one encounters rage, blind, cruel, terrible and angry, but if we take the time to look deeper and beyond, we find that this anger that we see is just a disguise, a costume, and that behind the guise of fury, rage and anger actually … sadness is hidden. 

My life …

“There is an assignment, a destiny task which falls to me. I am asked to take each and every situation I come into and to witness the pattern, the design, the way it goes. Then I release it through me.
“I take everything that has been and I let it all go. Sometimes this is very arduous. Other times it is instantaneous, effortless. It doesn’t matter. Whatever way it is, I’ll be there.

“I am fascinated and engrossed in the human dilemma, the soul drama. I have an endless appetite for putting things together and taking them apart. But I am very serious and intent in all that I do.

“It is one of those tasks that is almost too crucial to let myself be aware of. I don’t want to get in the way. So I pretend it’s just the way I pass time. I act as casual and cool as possible, even with myself. Oddly enough, it works.

“The truth is, though, that there is nothing more vital than what I do. Because I’m around, things move differently. I’m a cross between a catalyst and a loyal follower of the existing pattern as long as I possibly can.

“My impulse is to preserve, if possible. When that’s not happening, I will get in there and make it obvious that this is not the way the flow is supposed to go.

“I am immensely powerful and deeply hidden. I work between the lines. But I am so good at what I do. I can spend extended cycles in the outlandish assignments. And I will look and act straight the whole while.
“I’ve got a job to do. I am witnessing the whole thing but sometimes you just gotta pay close attention to the weave.”
(~ Ellias Lonsdale from his Star Sparks)


June 2016
Thoughts meander through my mind like a river of contaminated dense and colorful waters. I feel the darkness crippling in. I feel the intensity of the push. I cry the pain of the shedding of these walls. I scream the anger for the timing it shows me. It penetrates. It rushes me. I’m ready. I’m tired. Not a caring hand and kind heart to hold me thru. Relentless fury. Sadness. Remembrance. Aloneness. Abandonment. 

Unmotivated to continue. In between worlds. Constantly. As I see the edge and I see the depth. Desire to disappear and hide. Boiling waters that burn my soul. Stagnant energies that cripple my body. In the darkest hour. You and me. Me and me. I. 

Fuck this pain. Fuck this body. Fuck the world and fuck everyone that says that care. Because when I die they’ll regret and say “I had no idea” . Just as the Earth does and the oblivious minds continue to diminish her to the ashes she once came from. Death and rebirth. Transmutation. Pain. Suffering. Joy. It all fits in the palm of my left hand as it cramps and numbs and itches from the nerve pain coming from my brain and my aching heart. As I feel it all. Yours, mine, no longer able to discern. Constant shooting and reminders that I am so alive and yet feel so dead at times. Reminders that Im still here when all I wish now is to be ashes with the earth. 

Hopeless. Alone. Surrendering once again to the unknown. Where would it take me now? I have no more force. Up and down, the hero’s journey, the wounded healer, fuck all of these theories and science and spirituality, I can’t take no more. I see it all around, I see the beauty too, the gems, the caterpillar’s struggle, the perfection of it all and yet it’s clouded by the pain and it collapses me back to the source of all suffering and it blinds me from the magnificent gift this life and my life is. It confuses me as I can’t see anymore and all I can is only feel a shooting spasm that contracts my heart, presses down my spirits, fucks up with my emotions and I get lost and disoriented. Fire burning down, dissipating, life force evaporating from my soul. 

I give thanks for this experience. Be it death or life I’m ready for the next step. Initiation to the next realm within my seeking starving soul. 

Lila June 2016