The Allure of a Sexy Convertible. By: Charity Sills

 I always wanted this car. Audi TT Roadster convertible. When I bought it, I felt like a superhero. I felt elation, joy, pride and excitement. I felt sexy and powerful. It felt much like falling in love. It's perfect until the cracks begin to show. I'm no mechanic. I can barely check the oil. But I did pay a mechanic before buying this convertible. He lied. The truth is I bought a lemon. The truth is I lost $12,000 cash because I was seduced by the idea of a sexy convertible. 

It didn’t start. Often. In the rare moments when it did function, I would blast the song " The hills" by the weeknd. I lived in a fancy neighborhood in Houston. I looked like I belonged there. I enjoyed the little stretches of time when it did work. Sometimes it could fly. 

This car was much like lovers I’ve had. they were beautiful, on the outside. We had fun for small, magnificent windows of time.

But like the car: eventually enough was enough. I sold it for almost nothing. I cried as I signed the paperwork realizing what a terrible investment I had made. I sold it just as hastily as buying it -or jumping into love affairs with flashy dangerous men. Perhaps if I had patience for anything besides children, I could have sold it for more and lost a little less money.

But I can’t fight my nature. I’m an all-in or all-out kind of girl. And when I'm done, I’m done. I wanted out of that beautiful broken car. The car that told me " Even when your dreams come true, they suck." My ex was the most glaring example of a car that gets you nowhere. " Mr. Big" is what I called him for those of you familiar with the sex in city character. Mr. Big proposed to me, then gave my ring to another woman. “Mr.Big” is a bad, bad man. 

Don’t get me wrong. I loved that man. My god, did I love that man. I was a cocktail waitress in New Orleans when I met him. I was bored and he showed me a new world. The world of mixed martial arts. I was excited by him and the MMA fighting world. He owned a fighting gym and promoted huge fights. He used to fight! A former world champion taught me how to box. That was awesome. Mr. Big is treated like a celebrity in that town. He was kind of, the Don. I was sometimes-his girl. He is friends with the mafia but not involved. His family is affluent and powerful. I was excited by his larger-than-life ego and grandiose promises that he seldom kept. Our “love’’ was a masterfully created illusion. A fantasy. A lie. He is crazy about me-but I require too much effort. He needs easy girls that get drunk and stay quiet. That don’t ask questions when he disappears for a week…a month….a year. No matter how long he was gone I always opened the door. I meant what I said when I promised I would be his wife and that I would help raise his kids and we would have a baby. But, he didn’t mean it. I can no longer stay loyal to a liar. 

Maybe we did drink champagne and make love in Mexico ……

Then what? Then I cried like when I sold the car for nothing.

The dangerous thing about that kind of man, is what I sold for nothing was myself. At the end of the day what was my R.O. I.? (My return on investment.) ( In the case of Mr. Big I invested nine years on that rollercoaster. )

My ROI with him was nothing. He's a lemon.

The reason I’m telling you this is- to live greatly- to dare greatly you have to take chances. But, know when to fold.

Brene Brown says- " The courage to be vulnerable isn't about winning or losing. It's about the courage to show up when you can't predict or control the outcome.''

I have tremendous courage, and I show up. For people, for art, and for love. I’m not sorry that I loved hard. Trying to tame my wild nature is much like ' breaking' a wild horse. But you don't break. You become gentle. The strength and spirit of the horse is still there. It is fear that makes them skittish. It is fear that makes us run. I have gotten a little too good at running when it pertains to men.  To feel things so intensely and learn how to lean into gentleness, is my goal. 

I owe it to myself to make better choices. In all arenas of life. And, so do you.

You see recently, I bought a new Honda CRV mini SUV. It's cute. But it's not sexy. What it is- is  RELIABLE. I want that. I need that. 

Does that mean I have to date a Honda? I don’t know man, maybe I'll start with a Rangerover. But I will not pick another lemon. I will take my time. I will ask God and my intuition- and this time-I’ll listen.

Charity R. Sills

Take me anywhere

The piano dances a little too closely to the truth.  It’s as if I am on a boat... that was flung into unexpected rocks by a wicked storm. The storm cannot compete with the wildness of my eyes- or the strength of my soul. But , now my boat is stuck in the aftermath in the sandy , muddy, shallow water. Now all I can do is pray and hope and forgive the seemingly unforgivable. God does not condone vengeance. Oh I want to fight like a lioness protecting her cub- but I listen to God . I quietly accept that they have taken everything but my spirit -which can not be broken. A Spirit that can only be rivaled by 100 wild horses . I trust their mediocrity to dance with karma .Light always wins- eventually. So I steady my gaze, And dream alone .. alone ... in my boat . With an insatiable desire for more- calling , calling the tide to take me - to take me anywhere.





 Painting : “The lady of shallot” by John William Waterhouse in 1888.

I long for words
to mingle
with hope
so quickly does it vanish
and seldomly appears
It was a delicious day
of salty oceanic kisses
And for the stirring so seldom awoken,
I wear a grateful smile.

I left it all to find something- memoirs of my current trip to southeast asia

I arrived in Bali and found a cab to Ubud to the Whitehouse Hotel where I began my adventure. It started to sprinkle as I headed down the puddled concrete path , serenaded by frogs. I dipped into the magnificent pool, scarcely able to see in the darkness…two guardian esque statues watched over me as I swam. I returned to the high ceilings and rather magnificent imperfections of my room. It could use some serious renovation but other than the bathroom, I did not mind. I found it fascinating. Indonesia was continuously surreal. It was a series of dream-like sequences. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. The only qualms I had were feeling like a walking dollar sign, and the strange bathrooms that I shared with bugs and mildew .

All else was bliss. Ubud has a sexy fashion unconquered by the west. A hidden jewel of class and elegance. It has dresses that fall just right. Speaking of class there are no billboards of objectified plastic women. It does not exist, not even in advertising. It was to me, integrity-wise the opposite of Los Angeles.

Ubud is also filled with art galleries that in my opinion are also cutting edge. ( I am a bit of an art nerd and I’ve done everything from the D’orsee in Paris and the Ghetty in L.A. to quaint museums in tiny southern cities. I love art).

The food was interesting in Indonesia and no one uses any type of silverware. The fish still have eye balls. I befriended a local boy and he took me to his village. This is where I witnessed the first of many Hindu ceremonies. Indonesian women spend a considerable amount of time , several times a day, making offerings to the gods. They typically consist of hand woven baskets of dried leaves with a tiny bit of rice and fruit and always a flower, topped with a stick of insense.

  Oh the flowers! The balinese are to me, like a tribe of magical fairies when it comes to flowers. They place a petal behind the ear after praying, carefully arrange a flower at the center of the top step, sidewalks and tables. There are flowers everywhere. At my hotel a bright red flower was placed in front of my door every morning. When walking to the street I passed rice fields. In the early stages the rice fields have about 6 inches of standing water and sometimes a man in there doing something…preparing the soil perhaps? This culture works very hard. Every person I see is busy doing something. Often it is related to ceremony. They carry massive objects on tiny scooters…I even saw a television! A huge load of bamboo trees, anything goes, just get the job done! Personally, I would rent a truck. But I admire the strength.

 The pool turned my hair green but I swam anyway because it is a large reason why I came to asia I came to rest, pray and swim. I found a semi-pretentious western style yoga center. But, it had one hell of a view. Open air studio with huming birds perching sporadically on bright gorgeous flowers.

I am accustomed to my favorite SF yoga teacher and thus easily annoyed by anyone other than him. The airy constant chatter of an otherwise lovely chic teacher in Ubud grated on my nerves. I just wanted to do yoga, I don’t need a stream of spiritual philosophical banter while I do warrior 3. But, it was fine.

My 2^nd class was acro-yoga. You partner up and fly! The verbose girl was assisting so she much more subdued in that workshop. ( Funny insult coming from me, but still thank god ). It was primarily led by possibly the hottest man I have ever seen. He is venezualan and I was not alone in this opinion. I did not speak to him other than “Namaste”. I am not here for men. Quite the contrare.

I made a female friend from Israel. Her name is Shera. I don’t typcially bond abrubtly with women but she was exceptional. We spent a lot of time together and I loved the company. Asian people are shocked at how I can dare to travel alone. I can’t count how many times I was asked in broken english “ You only one? Ohhhh”. Sometimes it is followed with “ so brave’’ other times they just feel sad. One guy explained it ;“ In my country if no married at 25 year woman no lucky”. I replied with “ oh, in my country I am very lucky. I am free”. But yes I confess I have had moments of lonely on this adventure. But not too many. I think of all of those past lovers, mainly the last one. I try to just let it all go and be here now. To check out strangers and keep my cool.  It’ll happen eventually wether I can make sense of the past or not. While I do still try to I am determined not to let it consume me. I love that last one but it’s a real hat trick to trust him. I just forgive, forgive , forgive and release.

 Meanwhile I truly do like my own company and I am surely capable of entertaining myself in various strange ways.

I met a very sexy indonesian singer chic who invited me to accompany her on stage. She invited me to sing because she overheard me singing to myself. This was a closed gig, not a karaoke bar so it was quite an honor. I’m still very shy about singing btu I love to do it and the audience responded well. An australian tourist said I made her night. I blushed and almost cried. I stared and the ground and mumbled “ uhm..thanks’’.

I found jazz music and danced and danced and danced. I left ubud and went to the Brahmavihara Temple. It changed my life. The Vipassana ) 7 day silent meditation retreat) effected me in a profound, undeniable and unforgettable way.

I came with the intention of greater confidence through meditation. I left with that and so much more. I faced obstacles and felt great healing and peace. Sayadaw was our teacher, our guiding monk. He was a wise, gentle and compassionate guide. I spent a considerable amount of time meditating in a treehouse. I awoke to the 4 am gong and did a small amount of yoga before heading to the main temple. A few days into the meditation while in a session guided by Sayadaw, I observed my greatest fear.Upon arrival that day small birds were circling in seemingly erratic patterns above the temple and occasionally flying threw the building. Something it strong here, I thought. I asked to access this energy shortly before my epiphany.

 The tears flowed uncontrollably and effortlessly. I maintained and regained composure several times. “Sit with it”….that’s what we were taught… “ observe it”. I was embarrassed. Sniffling, surrounded by silent meditating yogis. I closed my eyes, just breathe…just breathe…I wanted to run..just breathe..i opened my eyes and the monk was staring at me…his eyes filled with compassion and knowing. His compassion was the last straw it overwhelmed me. I fled the temple. I saw a stone behind a bush. It could have been a tombstone, a place of offering. I don’t know. I only know I needed to collapse there…to hide…to release…to cry.

I calmned myself. I held my knees close to my chest. I suddenly needed ‘my tree’.

“my tree’’ is my favorite spot to meditate. Though we aren’t supposed to ‘own’ anything. J I climbed into the tree and encased myself in the white netting. I felt safe. A cacoon-suspended above ground. I felt love for myself. I stayed safely wrapped in my meditative cacoon until I felt the burning desire to sing. As it is a silent retreat I had to choose the most private discreet place I could find. I found a semi-private corner of land near my room. I got in a tiny corner facing jungle trees, leaning slightly on a stone wall. I let my voice quietly and sweetly fly. I felt release. Peace. I saw a boisterous unruly rooster and asked it “ what should I do rooster’.? It crowed loudly. “ Ok I will sing” I laughed and sing I did.

Part two will come soon. Namaste.

The Ten Best things about living in San Francisco

1. The People- They don't judge your sexuality, income, ethnic background etc. They have a very " you are a human? me too" kind of vibe.
2. Lands End- Fantastic place to get lost in the woods . The trail winds around and drops off into the pacific. You can also stumble upon a labrynth and a panaromanic view of the golden gate bridge.
3. The Slanted Door- A pricy but fantastic restaraunt that has a to die for yellowtail hamachi appetizer, a view of the bay bridge , and the best coffee in the city ( in a restaurant). Also several perfectly acceptable choices of cabernet.
4. Philz Coffee- Each cup made to order, drip style with a mint leaf. Fantastic. It will kick your butt into gear on a Sunday morning.
5. A plethora of asian food. ( Dim sum in the richmond or of course a-la-cart in china town), Sushi boats on geary , great thai , vietnamese food galore. It's delicious and everywhere.
6. The Bart train. I love the bart train...take it to the east bay! Stare out the window and listen to your ipod and say hi to some pink mohawk stranger. It's fun!
7. The Westfield Shopping Center. Yes you get lost in there...but its delicious. Christmas decorations at bloomingdales...pastries on the bottom floor...the lancome counter at nordstroms and of course H and M.
8. Noc Noc in the lower haight- The owner ramat will remember your name . This tiny semi-dive looks like a plane crashed into it. From hipsters to nerds its never a dull moment.
9. The F train- Cruise to the embarcadaro or to the castro in the old timey style train up and down market. It's slow but lovely.
10. The crackhead playing a broken violin in the civic center muni station. He has all of his charts and by god he is positive that he is really playing that strange red broken violin. He is a fine example of dedication to your craft ( albeit slightly drug induced and not quite the philharmonic).

Oh forgive me I need a number 11...and 12

11.ART!!! the russian symphony. The ODC dance troupe. The opera house. The asian art museum. The contemporary jewish museum. I love it all. It fills me up like the kaleidescope art nerd that I am.
12. The San Francisco Main Public Library. It is magical. Several stories of everything you could possibly need...including media options such as DVDS , Audio books and music. It has a magnificent kids area and it is also quite lovely ( it's feature in the movie City of Angels).
I love you san francisco. I will miss you and I am sure one day return but for now I must be true to my gypsy nature and board a plane to indonesia...thailand..alabama and then who knows.

But you always have my heart and as I said to the pacific yesterday...." Even though I will spend time with other oceans, You're my favorite girl".