If you could date any celebrity, who would it be?

Hmmm... Where do I start?
Johny Depp, Misha Collins, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki. Want more?

Ask me anything

Le Vol D'un Ange (The Flight of an Angel)

I have noticed something really interesting: when I am in a philosophical state of mind, the weather somehow becomes cooler and cloudy. I can smell the freshness of the air. I grab my raincoat and put it on, and stare through the window.
Then it starts raining.
I watch the raindrops rolling down the glass. It feels lonely. The room is empty. I'm in there, but it's still empty. So empty, like a black hole. It consumes me, and I become empty, too. Actually... There is nothing bad about being empty for a while. You can choose what to fill yourself with after that.
A human being can be really tired sometimes. Like I am now. One can be worn out because of tiredness, helplessness, harmfulness, or hopelessness. Or all.
I've been through all of this - love, pain, disappointment, expectations, illusions, friendship, laughter, crying, hoping, failing and rising again... And now I'm tired. I just want to rest.
What is it so special about you that you don't ever come? And what is it so subtle about you that I can't ever sense you?
Were you ever near?
Were you ever here?
Were you ever real?...
I have so many questions about you. I want you to tell me about God. About Universe. About meaning. About love and creation. About purifying.
Then I will know. Then I'll fulfill my life's purpose.
When I say "angel", I see you. But it's strange, 'cause I don't know what you are. I think you're a warrior. A best friend. A lover.
You're an angel.
I sigh. How can a window, a street, a raindrop be so gray? Everything is gray today. "Thank you"! It's all because I'm searching for a meaning. It's hopeless. Nothing is happening and I feel bored. There's no point in searching. This is what it is - the way we see it.
Hm, there's a feather in the window. It's pure white, and it's not wet at all, despite the rain. It's so white it's nearly sparkling. And it's just there.
I close my eyes slowly. All of a sudden I feel calm. And weightless. It's a good feeling. No burden at all.
I feel a warm breeze in the room. I open my eyes.
There's someone behind me. I can see his (or her?) reflection on the window. I quickly turn around. It's a man. He is smiling. His face is woman-like, but his body is undoubtedly male, though very fragile-looking.
His hair is blond, slightly curled, his eyes sparkling blue. He's toying with a same white feather in his left hand. Having sat comfortably on my kitchen table, he looks like he really feels at home, not showing any signs of leaving. Barefooted, his feet hanging freely from the table's edge, swinging back and forth in the air.
I don't fear him. Strange.
"You were calling me?", he said in a deep, soft, and husky voice.
"I wasn't calling anybody."
"Oh... yes, of course you were."
He keeps staring at me. Not a single blink of his eyes. And he's smiling.
"Don't pretend you don't know what I am."
My eyes are questioning. I am not sure what to say.
"I know what you are thinking", he continues, "and I want you to say it out loud. And say it clear."
He's waiting. Do I dare?...
His smile disappears, and his face becomes firm and strict. He's waiting...
I get a little closer to him, wondering how to spell it out.
"There is something about you", I say finally. "You look... weightless. And good. You seem like a really, really good... person. You're... You're just perfect. I think you're an angel."
He smiles again, "I thought you'd never say it."
Suddenly I can see a pair of wings appearing behind his back, slowly spreading open. They are absolutely huge, with sparkling, white feathers. This is the most gorgeous sight in my life! They cause a warm heat in the closed room.
He spreads his arms towards me. "Come", he says. "Come here. Come to me."
There is no way in the Universe I can hold my tears. In front of my sinful, spiritually poor and deprived human nature a divine power was acting.
"I must be dreaming. Or hallucinating!"
He thinks for a few seconds. "If that makes you feel comfortable, alright then. But as long as you breathe it is all true."
I approach him slowly. I reach out for him, and the second I do he grabs my hand.
"Do not be afraid! There is no way in the world I am hurting you."
"What... who are you, exactly?"
He's looking at me, obviously cheered up. Then he drags me closer. I can see tears in the blue.
"You call me many things besides angel. A Warrior, a Messenger of God... But to you, my dearest child, I am a comfort provider, too. I am your guardian."
Ok, now that's too much.
"Do not think we are blind for your pain. We are always around, always near. I've held you safe so many times you cannot even imagine. We are here. And if people want to talk to us, they simply don't need to pull away. We know it hurts to be a human most of the time. But we are here to wipe out your tears and your pain. To tell you there is more than that. You just need to believe it."
He pulls me closer and embraces me. His wings wrap me, and I feel I'm in a womb so safe nothing can harm me. His feathers were the softest, his arms - the warmest, most welcoming and comforting. He sang to me to calm me down, and I've listened to the songs about ancient times, miracles, and Heaven. That night I cried out all my tears, all my pain, all my hopelessness. I was empty. He refilled me with hope, and strength. And faith. And that was enough.
************
I woke up in the early morning. The sun was shining, but the ground was still wet.
What a nice dream. Yes, because it was all a dream. I totally neglected the fact I was had slept on the kitchen floor. I stood up, disappointed.
Then was when I saw the white feather on the table. I couldn't help, but smile as I picked it. It wasn't a dream after all.
"I hope you won't be gone for too long", I said quietly. "But no, you were never gone. You were always here".

After all, who can blame me for being weak sometimes? Who can blame anyone?!
But now it was okay. Now I knew there was someone watching over me...

Back to Wonderland

Have you ever wondered where hope comes from? We all know it is the last thing that dies. But why? And why is it so tragic to lose it?
I dream of angels. When there's nothing I can do or hoper for, I only hope I can reach them. Imagine the world was empty as many of us depict it!
It would be hopeless.
Sometimes when I sit alone I wonder what it would be like if every single materialist on this Earth was right. And guess what?! Nothing good comes out from it!
What if everything in this world was exactly as we see it? And just think about what we see or experience every single day!
Very early mornings, work, traffic, pollution, stress, cigarettes, plenty of black coffee, family fights, shortage of money, bills to pay, too long days and too short nights or just the opposite... The list is endless.
So it is understandable if one totally goes insane. Or hopeless. It is just enough to feel this kind of hopelessness a few times to get sick or scared, to get uncontrollably desperate. And with all our "wisdom" we call that state of mind "growing up", or "being an adult"!
Well, you can name it Escapism if you want, or the Peter Pan Syndrome, but I see magic everywhere. I think every single beautiful thing, no matter how simple can be a source of inspiration. Like a flying bird, for example. Or a flying kite. Or a green forest. Or the rain. Sunrise and sunset. A butterfly. Or a child playing. Or candles. And laughter. Or just a cup of coffee. Or loneliness. Pain could be an inspiration, too. Or poetry. Or summer. Or music. Or a gentle little flower. Or...
Did you notice something? All the things I just numbered are creations of Nature. Of God (or The Great Mystery, if you prefer). It's a perfect plan. No one can question it. Mother Nature is a Goddess. She heals wounds. She makes you breathe calmly. She helps you connect with your inner true self. Stop pretending. Go out and hug a tree. Kiss the rain. Caress the flowers. Spring is coming. Your chance is now.
I've been studying and practicing the Craft for 4 years. Recently I happen to daydream more often, no matter my material obligations. And I wish Doreen Virtue was right. I wish Konstantinos was right. I wish Silver Raven Wolf was right. I wish Tolkin and J.K. Rowling were right!
You call it Escapism, or Peter Pan Syndrome, or whatever you want. But I believe in fairies, angels (mostly!), unicorns, elves, magicians, ancient secrets, elementals, and Nature. I believe they exist. They're just not here. We just can't see them. If you think about it often and start visualizing, probably you will feel them. I may sound foolish right now, but I don't care. If you're a superstitious one, why not believe in magic?!
So, next time you come across a ring of mushrooms, or a tree with a strange shape, or a pure white feather that seems to have come from nowhere... Do not pass it by! These are signs of the magic's existence. And its children being real. Because they truly exist. And they must be here. Somewhere. We just can't see them.