Once in a house on a hill, a girl met a boy...

Little did she know that this boy would forever change her heart. He was a modern day Tarzan, to say the least. A shoeless, shirtless, sun kissed, curly haired, brown eyed, surfer god of Salsa

Brava from a jungle called Nowhere. And yet, a man of the world. He claimed her as his own from the moment she stumbled into the old harbor town. Mesmerized by her fairness and innocence, he fell for her completely. In that instant, she hesitated to know the untamed Mowgli man, until the wild winds came and swept her off her feet.

'My world is not so easy', he told the blonde haired, blue eyed, doll face. 'You have to learn to speak the language of the hard-footed people.' And he traipsed through the jungle with his machete, in his bare feet, and cut through the untamed earth with an effortless artful hand, as if he were birthed into this boscage and raised amongst the lion cubs. He pointed out the snakes in the trees and taught her not to be afraid of spiders and ants the size of bullets, how to use a shovel, and drive a stick shift.

He introduced her to his son, and then his daughter, and then another son. And she was left speechless, so many bags to carry. 'How can I compete with this?' she asked. 'I want you, I need you, I love you,' he replied, and carried her off into the bush, tumbling down the rabbit hole in a knot of sweaty, love filled sheets.

And they cared for each other fiercely, and endured the hard times side by side. They took showers in the rain and slept amongst the insects and bats in a lightless cave of a house at night. They painted and sanded and varnished and raked and created a new, humble abode together. She taught herself to cook and care and mend and keep and manage it all. And after work, they ran to the beach and played in the sun and waves until there wasn't a drop of daylight left. Then they went home and made love until they had no more love to make.

It was a passionate all-consuming affair. The kind of infatuation that lifts you up and leaves the rest of your world to crumble at your feet. Yielding no room for other things, like family or friends, or even life. A love so overwhelming that very few escape, and those who do are left only with the pieces of a bleeding, broken heart.

For years the doll face loved her Tarzan. She idolized his strength and vitality, his brute mannerisms, and his wild untamable ways. And when love's intoxication aged and began to wear, she turned a deaf ear to the whispers and rumors, and ignored the many faults of her exotic Romeo. 'What is love without sacrifice?' she pondered to an ever silent moon, and poured herself even deeper into the cracks in her life.

But, as the saying goes, "all good things must come to an end". One morning she woke to find that her love had been stolen right off the pillow beside her. And when she went to look for him, she found that the face of the man she had adored for so many years was not the face she remembered at all. 'The times have changed and so have I, and I don't need you any more,' he sung. And with that her world fell apart, from one instant to the next.

She must have cried a million tears before finally picking herself off the floor. She ached from the shards of the shattered heart inside of her, and vowed revenge against the man who had so easily taken it all. Time, they told her. Time heals all wounds. "Time is all there is," she wept. And with each tick of the clock, the anguish of her torn soul eased day by day. Eventually, she disregarded all threats of revenge, all hope of reconciliation. Finally forgetting even the curves of his face and the smell of his skin.

The moral of the story is not one of sadness and dismay, but simply of letting go when the time is right. Some things, no matter how much we'd like to, we just can't hold on forever. And so life is... what is meant to be will most likely be. Now comes the mystery.

"The holy grail is to spend less time making the picture than it takes people to look at it." -Banksy

In the small Caribbean town of Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica there is an abundance of beautifully displayed broken tile art. It seems that every garden or hotel you stumble upon has pieces of these treasures hidden along the way. This is where my love affair with mosaic began. I owe much of my inspiration to Natacha Nokin, a french mosaicist who has also made Old Harbour her long-time home. (http://www.luluberluart.com/historia.swf) Every time I walk into her gallery I am astounded by the brillant collection of colors and vibrant, energetic art that covers the walls of Lulu Berlu. During my first 6 months in Costa Rica, I was fortunate enough to be able to work in the boutique and witness first hand the creative genius that exudes from Natacha. It was then that I thought to myself, I want to be an artist! I want to make the world more beautiful!

It was a former love interest of mine, though, who taught me to lay down the tiles. He has composed mosaics in places like the Jacaranda Hotel in Puerto Viejo. I have no patience for this, he told me once, as we slaved over an enormous shower floor at my family's lodge. Until that point, I never knew that I was capable

of creating such beautiful things. We spent a month laughing and tiling to make ends meet, and I knew my life would never be the same after that.

A few years later when my beau and I went our separate ways, I found solace in the art that I love. I spent hours tiling the house at Cashew Hill called "Todo Bien". With my ipod by my side, it was easy to get lost in the hypnotic trance that often ensnares me while I work on a project. Sometimes I find myself coming out of my catatonia at the end of a long day's work, stepping back to look at the installation to find myself bewildered by the sight of what my own two hands have created. It's an amazing feeling to dream of a new idea at night and then wake up in the morning and be able to make it a reality. It's also incredibly fulfilling to look at your work and actually like it. I feel completely satisfied by the imperfections in my projects, and I believe that is what mosaic is about: embracing the imperfections. It keeps pushing me to do better, to work harder, to make the next installation more fabulous than the last. I have fallen in love with the art world. Life really will never be the same.

Being in India

May 24th, 2009

being in india is like going back in time. but every once in a while you see a nice car or a spiffy gas station and you remember it's 2009. cows are everywhere... big fat holy cows. the roads are lined with beautiful straw huts that house the cow dung that they use for fuel and fires and things like that. monkies playing in the fields look almost like small men. it seems like such a normal thing to have the monkies running amongst the children. india is the only place i have ever heard of that asks you to please honk your horn as often as possible when driving. i love how they decorate the cars and buses, trucks and rickshaws so colorfully; painting om symbols and flowers, cows and birds on the vehicles. most of the big trucks have "please honk horn" painted on the back of them. the women are so beautiful in their saris of every color imaginable. if you don't wear colors in india you will surely stick out. the highways are lined with eucalyptus and frangi pani and flamboyana trees. people brave the roads in all sorts of automobiles; bicycles, bicycles with trailers, rickshaws, motorcycles with whole families piled onto them (dad, mom, and three kids), nice cars that are big and small, trucks filled with loads of bricks, buses filled with so many people they look ready to pop. it's over 100 degrees outside and everyone always wears long pants and for the most part, long sleeved shirts too, with all different variations of scarves or shawls or head wraps or turbans. they drive in the right side of the car here and the left side of the road. an older man at the visa office in houston told me: in america you drive on the right side of the road, in england they drive on the left side of the road, and in india it's optional! truer words were never spoken. they serve no beef at the mcdonalds in india. what a concept. it's unreal to be here. it seems almost like a movie to me, but maybe that's because i am a vidiot. the indian people seem so thoughtful. i see it on their faces in this meditative, higher state. like they know a secret... and i want in on it. maybe it is that the people here have truly learned to let go because they have no control over the powers that be. the forces of nature are so fierce here. i suppose that is what you really have to do to be able to enjoy india... just take a few deeps breaths and let go. this place is pure, utter, divine chaos. there is nothing left to do but embrace it. i am here for the ride.

i feel like every click of my camera, every picture that i take is a masterpiece in itself. the drive to rishikesh was like a dream. the dirt road along the ganges river was so utterly perfect. monkeys lined the road practically the entire trip. old men sitting on the walls or the bridges, like trolls demanding a toll for passage. piles and piles of cow dung collected along the sides of the road, like bee hives or temples paying homage to the mooing creatures the hold so sacred here. women wrapped in beautiful clothes and colors balancing hand woven baskets or piles of sticks on their heads like it weighs no more than a book.

the traffic is insane everywhere you go and yet you see no signs on angry drivers here. there is not really road rage in india. how is that possible? i suppose maybe it's due to the diet here, since the majority of the people are vegetarians. what a world it is. this place is so poetic, mesmerizing, disturbing, inspiring. but most of all, even though i am as different from the people (to the naked eye) as can be, i don't feel foreign or alone here. for these few days while i am here, i will call india home. i have fallen hopelessly in love with the exploration of this old world so new to me. somehow i feel that i have never been so at peace as i am now. thank you, world, for bringing me such good fortune as to be able to see all these things with my own eyes. i am truly blessed.

everywhere we go heads turn and people stare. i have never caused such a stir. the way the indian people react to my friends and i with our white skin, blue eyes, blonde hair. you'd think we were aliens or something. at the taj mahal i think we may have had more pictures take of us than of the actual palace. so many people stopped us to ask if they could take pictures with us, men and women alike. we even saw an indian cross dresser in a sari who wanted to take a picture with us. it was the most random, entertaining thing. i was completely amused. and yesterday at the train station, we were the only three foreigners in the whole place. probably in a 50 mile radius, actually. little kids were running up to us to shake our hands, girls kept asking us where we were from, smiling shyly, men staring, old people frowning at us. i feel like a total celebrity here. i would hate to be famous.

overall, the trip has been amazing. in so many ways i would love to stay here forever and sit at the little buddha cafe every day overlooking the river, drinking chai tea or lemon nannas, writing in my journal about how this place inspires me. i love the style of this world. people aren't afraid to just sit and be with themselves. they don't need cell phones or tvs or internet to distract themselves from the real world. i love the low tables and the pillow seats and the way people aren't afraid to just lounge in the candlelight when the lights go out, like they do every day, and listen to the river rush by and all the tears and prayers of the believers that have been sent to kali in it. this is the epitome of bohemia and i am totally at home.

Emotional ramblings of the soul

I feel it in my bones

That this adventure will change

The very essence of my being.

Shake me to the core

And I will look in the mirror and wonder

Who I am

Again!

Lost in a world of greater importance

No silly flowers teasing me

From outside my garden gate

Come play

This is the mystery of life

Everything left to be discovered

Nothing left to be desired

The colors, the smells, the rush, the heat

Hearts beating together

And separately

All at once

Breathe in

Breathe out

Hold your breath

Plug your nose

Don’t look down

Or you’ll fall

Very few days like these come

Where I can put my fingers to the words

And write it with the ease

Of the breaths that I take

And say what I mean to say

And enjoy the day with a thousand songs

And words, and harmonies

And sing it in my style

The way I always have

Always wanted to be

My heart is where it’s at. And there I’ll be, standing next to you, not knowing who you are and smiling. All is at peace in my world. Wherever I am, I am home.