Lovely Little Words

Bows & Beaches

She walked the beaches at night barefoot. The sand was freezing cold. Not as cold as her pale soft soles. Back and forth under the night sky, sometimes looking up for meaning, sometimes looking down into the shapes of the ground for a contradiction. Still, she walked alone in the night. A lone seagull or two sailed above the small surf. She wished she could fly into the colors of the night. Black, purple, moonlight haze.

And she thought about the bow of his lips. How much bigger his bottom lip was compared to the top. How he loved to kiss her on her neck. And especially how it was impossible to think when she felt his lips touch her skin. She walked and walked, remembered and remembered. Nighttime was his.

That was her time to contemplate everything she had lost. Daytime was filled to the brim and over with work, go, go, go, and up, up, up. But night crept into the day and brought her spearing straight down back to earth. So she walked out of her little cottage to the end of the street where a white fenced opened to a quiet and pleasant beach. The surf was rarely high. How many times had she walked the path with her hand in his? Only the stars knew.

No one in daylight would have guessed what her thoughts revolved around when darkness hit. No one could have foreseen how soft her voice became when she whispered his name to the seas.

She missed him.

Just like she missed the sunlight, the warmth, the thought of being whole again. Just like she missed feeling his lips pressed against her forehead before she fell asleep in his arms.

She simply missed him.


Lindsay Reva


Photo creds: @ Ivan S Harris Photography




Collar Bone Connected

It’s amazing what can come from the interaction of two or more individuals. 


It’s magic. Even if sometimes it feels like black covered drenched magic when deals go wrong, words get sour. Power is power. That one person can lead you to the next person, who could then introduce you to the one who will be bad for you but eventually be the reason why you were meant to meet the one who will be the best for you. Electricity sparked at the point of eye contact. You’ve met someone who shares the same belief. Miracles born, ideas exchanged. Touch, feel, plan it out; grow those bridges, baby. One brick at a time. One goal, one rhyme, whatever it is to make your life GROW. Collaborate! Light it up and watch the tip glow.

You can forge a whole new world because of one collaboration. Sometimes they are good and sometimes they seem like absolute duds. But we have to remember that for every action there is a reaction. The impact is REAL. Think of the people who watch and learn from you. I can smell the influence in the air when two people combine their thoughts and bake a fat chocolate cake of brilliance, cherry dreams bouncing on top. Seeping with layers on layers of realization that they made it, BUT they sure as hell didn’t do it ALONE like a deflated grey cupcake. The greatest are never alone. They are always working with others, like nice boys and girls out on the playground. Don’t be that stupid bully aiming the dodgeball who everyone stays away from.

When you work to create a goal with other like-minded people, you don’t just establish a bonding by the efforts, you’re setting the bars higher for everyone else. They can see with their big bright eager eyes that you were not alone. So why the hell should they be?

You should never be alone! (Unless your an emo-anti-social-socialite like me (afterparty, hell no! Solitude, yessum)). It’s tougher when you’re alone… Fewer efforts, fewer beliefs. I don’t want fewer. I want FULL, darling. That’s why we have to work together and open our minds and ideas to the judgments of others. We have to put our faith in the goodness of mankind, that we were meant to forge a path down together in bond.

We are mankind. Man was meant to be kind to each other. So turn to your brothers and sisters, friends and strangers and share your ideas. If your scared that they will use up your genius and make a muck out of it, just think about what will happen if you yourself make a HOTDAMN MESS of it. Who do you think will be by your side to understand how you feel? #CollaboratorsUnited.

I collab because I believe. I believe because I’ve been influenced.


Lindsay Reva


Life is Good

Life is good, she whispered undeath her breath when she turned 30 years old. That had been very different from when she had turned 3 and whispered that life was unfair how the giant people ruled her every breath. But it wasn’t so different when she turned 5 and sang how lucky she was to have a daddy to make her realize that she ruled him. When you rule daddy nothing else mattered.

When she reached the age of 12 “unfair” escaped her lips, not unlike when she turned 23 and the same shades of unfairness colored her entire life. But 12 was more to do with boys and teenage rampages rather than the revenge of social systems and judicial corruption. At least it wasn’t as bad as when she turned 25 and the definition of pain slapped her across the face leaving welts that would last a lifetime. That real pain felt nothing like when she was 17 and witnessed her first heartbreak. Neither did it feel like when she was 24 and saw that something big and bad was coming, like a bad storm in the distance. No one could have seen that much hurt… Still, she felt it coming. It made her wish she had gone back to before the age of 1, deep, warm, and safe in the womb, protected by her mothers’ vibrations.

That pain made her think about when she was 17 and fell out of bad love and back into a perfect kind of love. The kind that was equal, the kind where she would have done anything for him, and by the look in his eyes she knew he would do anything for her. So unlike when she turned 29 and met someone who’s eyes were always chasing the eyes of someone else.

She dreamt about life the most when she was 27 years old. Love, dreams, accomplishments filled the hours in the night when other people slept. Not her. She dreamt of a life that would come, all she had to do was see it in her mind. It reminded her when she was 9 and her mother use to take her on tours around the world. Each country, each new culture opened a new door for the little young thang. Maybe that’s why she always looked so sad at the age of 10 because she realized no matter how much she grew in her mind, she was still that little young thing. But 21 brought more promise. She had developed like the first stages of bloom. Colorful with plenty of light and water, able to sway in the wind and catch the attention of others. Yet she wasn’t dreaming about those first stages into adulthood when she was 7 and had to sit at the kid’s dinner table while the giants discussed words that she had never in her existence spoken. 22 she finally decided it was time to start speaking those words.

She spoke and spoke and met new people. Each one so different and leaving a different impact on the soil of her future. It made her remember when she was 6 and watched her older cousins with awe and pain, wondering, ” When the hell am I going to be like that?” One day baby girl, one day. She hadn’t yet realized that if you wanted to be anything in life it was more than attitude and clothes, although at the age of 11 she would have disagreed with her hands on her hips and skateboard under her feet.  At that age, all you needed was the wind, attitude, and freedom. At 16 she was surrounded by people who made her feel ugly inside, exactly what she deserved for not listening to her parents. That was a combination of gasoline and fire. she woke in the morning and didn’t like who she had become. “What have I done with my life? Who have I helped?” Since the age of 13, she had only walked in the path of uselessness and mimicked All Bad. These things happen with the ages…

Thankfully she awoke one morning on her 28th birthday and felt power deep and steady in her mind, realizing that all she had to do to accomplish everything she ever wanted was that; DO. Since the age of 4, she had been used to hearing people and their talk. They didn’t know the secret of life and how easy it could be if you simply did. 

So after she woke up with this revelation a new type of belief set her life’s prospect at the pinnacle on the highest mountain. She stopped thinking about all the doubts she had when she was 12 and insecure. She erased all the pains of being misunderstood and simply saw what the miraculous word DO meant, and without a second to waste, she followed through.

Something that had been in her heart all along, but had always stumbled while trying to find the key.

On her 30th birthday, she was surrounded by everyone who loved and cared about her. It reminded her of her first birthday party, the same one that no one came too and disappointment was paramount. Her sadness on that day was a reflection of her happiness.  Intensity was real. Souls could be felt. In front of her was a cake crafted by her best friend. Besised her were people holding up their camera phones, capturing something that because of outside factors from the past, couldn’t quite be comprehended. Further to the side were others that believed in her because they felt the reverberations of her heart. Or maybe because she had touched their own heart.

She brought her hands up to her face as if in prayer and whispered gently so that no one could hear,

Life is good.


Lindsay Reva


Never Say Never… Unless

Never forget what others have done for you in the past. Even if you’ve moved on, or they’ve moved on from you, never forget their smile.

Never forget the sweetness in their voice when you saw them with their guards all the way down. Never forget that surprised look in their eyes when they realized something they said hurt you. Never forget that they had never meant to hurt you. Never forget they too are human and flawed and recklessly beautiful.

Never forget that somewhere along the line of your relationship they wanted you to rise, to succeed, to just be happy. Even if only for a moment, a moment can last an eternity. Never forget; if they could feel hate, surely they can feel love.

Never forget when they stood by your side. Whether it was a walk through the park, or a walk to visit you in prison. Never forget that their footsteps can echo just like yours.

Never forget that they were young, reckless, and inexperienced. Never forget that they aren’t getting any younger and one day they will return from where they came. Never forget the last sentiments you exchanged.

Never forget that no matter how much you think they despise you, the right words could make them admire you.

And while you’re at it… you should probably forget that idiotic word: Never.


Lindsay Reva

Before I Found God

I looked into the mirror and couldn’t recognize who I had become.

Tiredness lined my eyes like charcoal eyeliner. There was something about my jaw that reminded me of concrete. Soft, where did you go? Peace, please come back to me.

I decided to take a walk down to the beach in hopes that the waves would wash away my feelings. As I walk out the door with my wine colored overcoat and black boots, I remembered that I hadn’t eaten all day. Food could wait. My impatience couldn’t. Step after step, I passed a tourist who looked happy and held by bliss. Children ran after one another, one started to cry. Cars went by. slowly. The world continues to revolve. As I reach the beach’s common foot traffic I slowed my pace and tried to slow my heart rate. Step after step, beat after beat.

The sunset was far but I could see a pinch of faded orange in the corners of the sky. I couldn’t believe how many people were out in the water playing despite the cold temperatures. Laughter reached my ears and I looked at a young blossoming girl with brown curly hair run after a boy who could have been her brother. It reminded me of how I use to love chasing after my brother when I too was just a child. Now I only chased dreams.

Seagulls walked the shores looking for food in the sand. I wanted to see one raise up and fly straight to the sun. Up, up, and away. The birds continued on the sandy grounds.

As I continued down the board walk I took in the people who sat on benches and looked to the waters. Some of them stared back at me. When our eyes met I felt I had intruded on their secret thoughts, just for a moment until they looked away. My eyes left them and continued to the next. I couldn’t help but assess what they were wearing in hopes that I could see a part of who they were. Soft velvet stared at the overcast sky. Jeans and plaid looked straight ahead. Black button up sank their eyes into the ground.

On and on I walked thinking about how emotions make us do the damnest things. I took one deep breath and curb the urge to drop to my knees and cry. A skate boarder rode by and barely touched my coat at the elbow. I wished I could have absorbed his happiness, but he rode on and my sadness remained constant. I stopped in my tracks and turned to the sea.

A lovely oceanic horizon pleaded below a dull sky. It would have been nice to walk straight into the water, farther than the waves, past the surfers who sat bobbing up and down, until I was alone enveloped in the body of a current that could only carry me farther from reality.

How did I get here? I blinked away my delusions and looked to my left at the setting sun. It was still too bright to not squint. If I had wings I wouldn’t be like those stupid seagulls. I’d fly straight to you, sun. Straight and without hesitation. All around me sounds of life rang. Families speaking in tones of normality. Lovers making promises in silent glances. Children soaked in innocence. Life was brilliant and it didn’t give a damn how sad you were.

I turned away. Took a deep breathe.

One step at a time, I walked further into the path of being lost.


Lindsay Reva

2018 Bye Bye

I feel a huge change coming with 2019.

Epic. Maybe not so bad… No. Just the next step to get me one step closer to being who I was born to be.

I use to think I knew myself after I went through a huge loss. Then something new happened, and again I felt another kind of loss. A surprise almost. So… No big surprise even though it was a surprise. We lose things and at the same time gain two-fold. Or the opposite.

But I can feel the enormity coming with the new year like a storm or grey sky right before the rain and lightning hit.

We can only hope that tomorrow will be better than yesterday, and I can only hope 2019 will be my best year to date. Yet 2018 is going to be hard to surpass. Today someone asked me what was my greatest accomplishment from 2018. That’s easy.

Heiva San Diego was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. My creation survived and went beyond my expectations. I could feel a piece of the Mana in the air. Exactly why I created it in the first place. Yes, the Heiva SD was wonderful. How the hell am I going to surpass that next year? Easy. The Alliance Francaise de San Diego is also one of my fondest accomplishments. When you create a plan and see it executed, succeed, and continue how addicting the rewards are. The awkward French school has finally become my Charming Langue de Francaise school. 2018 represented hard work, commitment, and sacrifice on every level.

It was hard working till 2-3 in the morning. It was hard being thrown into a position to act like you know what you’re doing even though you’re totally unprepared (thank God the sharks couldn’t smell my fear). I’ve been committed to my dreams and aspirations. Nothing could have swayed that. Stronger than titanium, baby. and the sacrifice? Well, all that work, all that commitment; made me lose a piece of myself. And when you lose yourself, is that not the biggest sacrifice one can afford?

2018 was all about doing things for other people in order to bring me closer to the top. Proving myself.  2019 will be different.

I will always be available as long as someone needs my help. Kindness is not a must, it’s my core. But going into the new year I will no longer sacrifice myself for the means of others. My happiness is just as important as my dreams, my aspirations, and especially those of someone else. Do I deserve happiness? Yes, 2019. I do.

Peace be with you



Number 1004o

I sat on the cold concrete floor and remembered how warm my hand had felt as he held it.

My palms weren’t even sweaty as they should have been. As they had always been, but instead completely dry and balance. Nothing to take away and nothing to add. I wasn’t afraid or lost as he led me down the path and we sat on a bench overlooking the dark blue sea. I remember thinking about how handsome he looked with the suns glow illuminating his cheekbones. He was stunning, he was rare. How the hell did he become the one to hold a hand like mine?

The floor was so very cold. It made me hurt. Still, it didn’t hurt as much as the memories did. Especially when I remember how he used to look at me.

We sat on that bench with the cliffs below us, burnt roses in the sky. Everything disappeared when he placed his hand in mine. His eyes, my eyes. One thousand words exchanged in one glance. Infinite meaning spoke in silence. I could have stared at him until the stars arrived and disappeared again. Who even needed stars when I had his shining eyes? 

I was tired of sitting on the hard floor. I wondered when I would feel my legs again. It didn’t matter though, nothing did. I was far, far away from anything which was once good. I was far from how subtle a kiss on his lips would taste.

His hand on my hair, up against my skull and the breeze had nothing on his fingers caress. Human beings were meant to be close. Closer and closer we crept. It’s funny how you think you’re so close to someone you can hear their heartbeat. But really, it was my own. We met half way, our lips the borderline. He had to keep his eyes open and I had to shut mine. 

I tried to make shapes out of the stains on the cold hard floor. But they would always come back to blood and filth reality. So I shut my eyes and wondered why I always had them closed when something as magnificent could have ever taken one step in front of me.

He held me and I let him take me. Why did he always feel like an extension of my thoughts? How did he know how I liked to be touched when I myself had no clue at all. Birds flew above, people passed on trails. He stood our ground. I defended our touch. 

I opened my eyes again and couldn’t believe I wasn’t in his arm. I couldn’t believe how cold and hard the ground felt. How lonely life can be. The other prisoners screamed down the hall. I shut my eyes and closed my ears, wondering if he had found someone new. Something more than what we could have had…

The sun had dropped and the light was almost gone. Still, we held on to each other, neither of us daring to ask for the time. He whispered in my ear, ” I don’t want to go.”   And I wouldn’t have let him. He kissed me on my neck. I kissed him on his cheek. We kissed each other gently on the lips. Clouds, sun, stars all passed. We continued.

I sat on the cold hard concrete and remembered where I was. Where I was…was nowhere. And where he was, I was never going back.

Slowly with time, Prisoner 1004 forgot what it was like to have a heart full of love. 
Eventually, the concrete floor no longer felt cold to her Either.


Lindsay Reva


I, Human

It’s nice outside sitting in the sunlight.

Makes me remember to feel. Not like how I feel tired, grumpy, possibly hungry. Anyone can do that. I mean, really feel.

Like the way colors touch me when they’re nice and bright or even subtle. Like when I take that first sip of almond milk caramel latte which I treat myself when even my soul starts feeling tired; that sip makes me feel a little bit more alive. Like when I take a walk in the park alone with my headphones in my ears, what it does to me when I see children laughing, flowers blooming all to my special beats.

It’s nice to finally feel.


Lindsay Reva


All that existed was my belief.

Even when they told me I was no good, the voice in my head, somewhere down, down and deep on the trampled floors told me I was good. I had these images pass through my mind. As fast and unforgettable as a single lighting bolt in a black sky.

All though I was amongst the worse of our kind, and even though I was trapped in the gutters. I believed. In and out I breathed it. Up and down they threw me.

I believed because I could see something greater within my mind, and I could feel it in my heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. They told me imagination was for the fools. They told me that the only thing that matter was the reality. If that was the case, then why the hell did these pictures come to me in the middle of the night when my head lay against my dirty pillow, flashes cleaner than snow, smoother than water, slicker than ice. Still, they told me I was wrong. And everything inside told me I was right.

They looked at me like I was scum. The person I saw in my head was far from scum. She was brilliant, she was bold. Like no one I had ever seen in my life. Who was this person? And why did she have my face and yet look nothing like me? The way she set her jaw, was nothing like how I set my own. Why couldn’t I set my jaw like her?

How much I would give to be just like that. I would die for her. I would sell my soul for her. She has power without even saying a word. All it took was a simple glance in absolute silence. In all my fuss and fits, I had nothing…

They scorned me and I walked away. As I do I close my eyes and I see her bright like an open flame in the desert sky. The darkness made her brilliant. If only I could have a tenth of her light. Even a pinch of her would wash away my bruised and battered ego. If she wanted, she could burn down the walls to every single one of my minds prisons.

She had strength in her backbone. You could see it in the way she stood.

She was me. She was my belief. Then why the hell was she always escaping from my reality?

Because you let her.


Lindsay Reva.


For Shits & Giggles

You’ll always have my love.

Didn’t I tell you that last time you left me?

Even when you chose him over me, didn’t I open my arms when you ran straight to me? Or the time when I wiped away your tears because he had broken your heart again? Thank God you didn’t know how bad I wanted to break every bone in his body. But I didn’t. Instead, I held you in my lap, kissed the baby hairs on your head. You asked me to say something. I didn’t know what to say, yet I spoke until you slept. When you woke I hadn’t moved a muscle. Not because I wasn’t tired. On the contrary, my bed would have been the sweetest release. Yet I didn’t dare leave your side. You needed me, and I needed you to need me.

Because I love you. It didn’t matter that you never really loved me. It didn’t matter that I knew I would never be able to hold you and feel your equivalent of holding me back. I just needed to hold you.

When I saw you walking down the aisle, your hair perfect just like your face, the dress that I immediately wanted to take off, layer by layer, at the same time wanting to scream. How bad I wanted to run away. I stayed.

I watched you as you leaned into him, and kissed him the way I had dreamt you’d kiss me when you finally realized, no one would love you the way I would always love you.


Lindsay Reva


Stepping Stone

There will always be people who point out your mistakes and judge you.

Take that attention they place on your flaws and let it be the first point of your success. You will surpass what they thought of you, you will overcome their judgments, and especially their expectations.

Their word is the first marker.

Proving them wrong will be the last.

Now stop wasting time and GET TO WORK!


Lindsay Reva


Own IT, Lovely

I hope someday I will make it out of my doubts,

Even if it takes a few nights or a few thousand years.

I hope one day I can take care of my family and fight the beginnings and ends of all my fears.

Until I stand tall, skin and bones, underneath the sun, up against the wind,

One day I will make it.

Even if I’m broken to pieces, shredded finely to dust, at least I know

I will find myself.

And you, can you really say what it means, “To be Free?”

I will attain my own happiness, to become the woman I was meant to be.

Take your influence, take your judgment.

I am light as a feather, darling.

Till skin and bones, till dust and damned.

No one can touch me.

For I have been taken by the wind,

I am my own.

Isn’t it lovely?


Lindsay Reva


Pray Harder.

Please Please, PLEASE…

She prayed on her knees and despite the pain in her legs from kneeling so long on the hard concrete floor and the drops of tears which collected in a small blotted puddle right in front of her, she continued to pray as if her life depending on it. They always whispered in the streets that great souls were only created in great sorrow.

People in the church passed by the light-skinned girl with dark eyes and wondered what could have caused such beauty so much pain. There was something wrong about seeing a freshly bloomed rose, snapped in half and left in the dirt. If she had been ugly they might have given her a mere glance, but even in the church’s dimness, she was a beacon of light. A brightness that really had nothing to do with how many shadows were cast down around her. The old men staring assumed it was a broken heart by a flesh thirsty boy. The women assumed her dreams were taken from her, in the form of a handsome flesh thirsty boy. How wrong a thousand perspectives could be all at once.

Please Please, PLEASE!, on and on the voice in her being sang.

Hours passed and she stood her ground. People left and people came. Everyone knew her, most dared not interrupt. After all, she was in conversation with someone far more powerful than the rulers of their little town of fewer than 1000 people.

After the first hour, her sobbing stopped. But it wasn’t until the third hour that her eyes were completely dry. Water ran until there was no more. Some children went so far as to touch the end of her hemmed dress. Daring, and yet scared as their tiny little hands caressed an off-white cotton cloth that had been worn far more than should. They called her possessed and tainted before they ran back outside to continue their carefree and havoc-filled play. They were young and understood nothing. Still, she gave no sign of hearing their shrieks. On she prayed. Maybe even harder. The streets outside were bright, and noisy with the main market square just outside of the church. Filled to the brim with life, the town moved with its occupants like a breath in and out. Morning came and in they rushed, the night arrived and out they fled, only a few straggling mots of beings left behind. In a few minutes, the fisherman would be back with their catch of the day, and the women would begin their haggle over a decent fish and an equally decent price. If they were lucky, they would exchange for a favor. In the town square, the church was the pinnacle with its plain but stern cross facing to the West, where the travelers would pour in from old wooden ships. Sometimes they came with goods and treasures. Most of the times with just stories and possibilities of influencing the dreamers. As their captains sailed up to its shores, they spied the cross and felt rather than knew, they had reached God’s hands.

Surrounding the church was a small schoolyard, bookstore, house of herbs, and a place to buy fabrics, the same store which the sad girl had chosen her dresses now stained and worn down material. A present from her deceased mother.

Kasminia prayed with all her energy for the one thing she never had. Till she was skin and bones.

God, please make me beautiful inside.

Beautiful inside… What did it matter to be beautiful inside, if you were cut like fine crystal on the outside? Who would be able to tell except yourself? And even so, no one was perfect. Right?…

She prayed as she remembered the day her mother died with the words on her lips, You girl, are an empty shell. It had struck her immediately but only reverberated in her mind months and months after because she realized that if her mother had used her last strength to send out a curse of an observation, then it must be so. Was she an empty shell? Kasminia carefully watched the other beautiful ones in the village and listened to the words they spoke, how hollow their laughter rings, and how wicked their hearts sang when you truly understood them. It scared her even more that she could understand them. She finally reflected, yes Mother, you were right, we are empty shells.

With this accusation ringing in her years, she tried and tried to correct herself. Studying harder, loving unselfishly, giving until she had nothing. But still, the simple sentence haunted her every thought until she realized that she was trying her hardest to prove the ghost of her mother wrong, instead of simply doing what she thought was the right thing to do; To be good. To be beautiful deep in the recesses on one’s heart not because she wanted to prove her mother wrong, but because she believed.

The sun was lit in the sky burnished with a Sienna glow and Kasminia walked through the large wooden doors which took two men to open every day and decided that she would stop forcing herself and do the only thing she hadn’t tried. She prayed.

No one was left when the beautiful beam of light rose from her shaky bruised knees and walked home in the black of night. No one would see her as she eventually walked to the West with a change of clothes and bread to eat. No one would see the smile on her face when finally she found her answer. No one would ever remember her for her complexion and almond shaped eyes. They would only remember the beauty they felt in their heart when they were with her.

Dear God, thank you. You only heal me.

50 years later in Calcutta India, a fisherman went up to Mother Theresa and made a simple remark that might have confused others.

” Mother, I once knew a girl beautiful in everything she did, from a small village protected by God. She disappeared but when I look into your eyes, I see her.”

The old women smiled and silently let the words turn over, deep in the ashes of her remembrances. You girl, are an empty shell.

No mother, I am God’s beautiful one. Now be gone in peace.


Lindsay Reva

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