Many people come into my life offering to help me. I’ve realized that I am the only person who can help me live my unconventional life. I’m the only person who can give me what I need. I know more than they do. Those who come and offer help, I end up helping them, not in a way they typically register as help, but with my insight, resources, and influence. Because the help is not tangible, they are often unaware that I helped them. That’s where the imbalance occurs and the relationship fizzles. And those who remain in my life see and appreciate my gift beyond the social construct.
It gets easier with each practice. With each attempt. It all leads me somewhere, even if I don’t know where I’m going. One by one, it unlocks the key with each move I make intuively and selectively. My intentions are pure, so there are no mistakes. Only lessons. Oftentimes, it’s not the thing or the person I seek. The thing or the person is the stepping stone to the next step, or something greater beyond my imagination. Every day is the confirmation that the universe has my back. But why is it taking so long? I am feeling impatient. I love you, but please hurry. Bring it to me.
I’m loading a car trunk with suitcases for my family. The trunk is packed, and I’m organizing the suitcases like Tetris. I’m having fun. I’m happy to be helping, and my family is happy. They bring one more piece, the old Samsonite I used to move to the US a long time ago. They ask, “Can you fit one more?” to which I say yes. “I got this.”
Danelle was my landlord when I first moved to LA from Chicago and has been a dear friend to me through changing times. I lived in her apartment while she and her husband Pedro stayed in their main home in Brooklyn. After being bi-coastal for years, they will soon be solely based in New York. This might be her last show in LA, and I want lots of people to see her work.
The other day, I was talking to a friend. He was heartbroken because he and his person love each other so much, but they are not together at this moment. There seems to be so much pain in their dynamic, as much as there’s love. “You can’t be everything,” I said to him. He resonated. It’s been a few days since the conversation, and I’m starting to feel differently about what I said. Why can’t we be everything to the one we love? How wonderful would it be if we could be everything to each other? To pour into each other with all we have? I want that.
A few years ago, I got a cocktail at a bar and didn't get a tiny umbrella on top, like everyone else. My overreaction to the “mistreatment” led me to a homecoming to my essence and a major recalibration of how I see the world.
[ Once Upon a Time in Moorpark by Danelle Rivas, 2025 ]
[ me, Danelle, and Pedro in Oct 2022 ]
