Berkeley, in a nutshell

I began my day with a list of plans, a stratified set of people to see (and not to see) and a static schedule that was never meant to be tampered with.

But it was fucked and twisted and turned into perfection. That is perfection; this is bliss right now, in this very moment, at 10:45 at night. Here. In Berkeley. In this shabby ass room with a terrible mattress, a half assed view, three females in a room the size of a hamster cage.

And I don't mind at all. So why the hell have I been taking this experience for granted?


It has dawned on me that the world is full of so much love. Where does this love stem from, you may ask? A typical answer would simply be: "from the heart," which, surely, has some milage. However, it's more than that - it come from you. You need to love yourself before you can give your absolute self to anyone else: may it be a stranger, family member, friend, or lover. All of those individuals require the assurance that you have the capacity to love - and who better to love than yourself?

I set off on my journey today and stumbled upon a penny facing downward. Naturally, I flipped it right side up and hoped someone would glance at it, smile, and add a slight bounce to their step because of this one silly symbol. It's the little things in life that spark our love. It really is.

Soonafter, I snagged a paycheck larger than anticipated, dropped off a job application, was lectured about selflessness by a man who worked with Tibetan monks, found my equilibrium during Yoga, wrote a few shorts at a cafe, and experienced more love than ever thought conceivable amongst a bunch of familiar faces who still seemed the slightest bit foreign to me.

Now to backtrack!

While sipping my latte, I had a revelation and realized that though this Hallmark holiday is a load of shit, it is the perfect time for self growth. So I wrote, and wrote, and wrote some more. Why should we celebrate loving someone (or the world) only once a year? Why not make it a habit? Why not make it a daily routine, like eating? We all need food. We all need love and strive to be loved.

And then came the service, where I hummed and chanted, channeled a person's soul through the gates of their eyes, and became even more infatuated with humanity. I cannot put tonight into words. Impulse, maybe?

It all ended with a small jam led by the gentleman who was my "soulmate" for the night. And there was so much life and love spewing out of our bodies within that room.

The Beatles, in the distance!

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad
Take a sad song and make it better
Remember to let her under your skin
Then you begin to make it better"

and I scurry away, grab the tambourine, and we scream:

"better, better, better, better, better, oh!

Na na na, na-na na na
Na-na na na, hey Jude
Na na na, na-na na na
Na-na na na, hey Jude..."

Everyone's voice danced with the another and collected into a magnificent roar of passion. And I couldn't stop singing. And I loved it.

I loved everyone around me.



That's what love is, to me. Laughter, life, passion, happiness, serenity, curiosity, and the willingness to put yourself in the most vulnerable position so someone can take advantage of your raw and truest form.



Call me a fucking hippie. I don't care. Berkeley has done me wonders.

<3
Mon