the rebirthing.


how do you re-define yourself after years of being one person? So many of you have known me as Bliss Diva – but one quiet evening surrounded by tropical rain, the scent of passionfruit, and indie music, all that changed. Like the snake slithering across desert sands in the hour of midnight, I shed a skin that had become dry and cumbersome, and I slid wet and moist out of the past until I emerged, re-birthed, into the light of day.

Faythe. It began as a middle name, after my grandmother, who I didn’t learn to appreciate until after she was gone and I remembered her wisdom while she was alive. ‘Faythe’ did not burst from the fertile volcanic soil, but stretched out, sighing in delight as the sun and wind and waves caressed its skin.

I am Faythe. Fay-the. Fayth-e. (faith).  It’s not a noun, but a verb, and it reverberates in musical ripples through my muscles and bones and soul.

This is a new beginning, a new era. After days of laying out the plans for my dream life, I was still stuck and frustrated, knowing I was missing something essential. Knowing there was something I had to let go of, and I couldn’t figure out what. And, like the first jubilant burst of morning light from the edge of the Pacific Ocean outside my home, it came to me: I’m not Bliss Diva anymore. That name, birthed in a frenzied moment of wild art with my femme mermaid best friend in senior year of high school, has served me well the past few years – it broke me out of my creative shell and gave me the permission, the courage to be a new, vibrant creature.

But Bliss Diva does not serve me anymore. It has done its work and has made the transformations necessary – but it does not fit with my new vision of life. With my new life, I needed a new identity, and as I ruminated on the possibilities, frustrated by my lack of inspiration, my sister, in her eleven-year-old wisdom, said: Faythe.

And there: that emotional moment of ‘YES,’ when I realized that was exactly what I was looking for – a connection between my birth and my re-birth…Faythe. The multiple meanings descended upon me in a delicious blanket of love and light, and I could feel my soul smiling wryly and sighing in simple joy as it said, ‘well, duh, darling – you were always Faythe. You simply had to realize it.’

This is the re-birthing. Jubilant music plays in the background, and my heart leaps in euphoria and my body dances ecstatically, remembering what it is to be fully alive and centred in its power.

Obviously, with this re-birth, Bliss Versus the World is coming to its natural close. It has gone through its transformations and has served me and others in the ways it was meant to, and now it is going through its ending. I put it to rest with gratitude and song, and appreciate everything it has given me.

This is my last post here, as I am transitioning into my new blog: Faythe. (click the photo above to take yourself to it!) But this blog will remain open, though not updated, for the next couple months to aid people in being able to find my new blog.

It’s been a good one, Bliss Versus the World. I release you in joy and in thanks. Blessed Be.


New Vision


My youngest sister has been here for a week now, and I can’t be more thankful to have such a positive, upbeat, fun person in my life right now. I won’t lie, dear readers: I haven’t felt very much like my Bliss Diva self lately. Financial instability is rocking my life and my creativity has been on the wane until just the last couple of days. I’m a Highly Sensitive Person, and stress often paralyzes me into inaction, only to be prodded out of it by wild free spirits and like-minded souls who offer words of support and inspiration.

Being out here in my jungle home dealing with the financial problems of being unemployed (though I’m trying to find a job that provides good funds, and suits my HSP nature), the difficulties of writing a novel and going through the rough transitions of trying to create my dream life, and the loneliness of having a love a thousand miles away, commercial fishing in the Alaskan seas, has made me feel despairing in many ways. That’s why I’m thankful that, though she came to visit at a time when I’m not at my most optimistic, my youngest sister Jennasea has come to visit.

Our days have been filled with waterfall medicine and art therapy, and her exaggerated antics and goofy ways have succeeded in making me smile and guffaw when I feel like curling up in a ball and sobbing. And through all the problems, I never forget to lay down on the cool flowing water beside the gurgling waterfalls and gaze up into the green illumination of the trees and the sapphire of the sky, and sink into peace, if only for a few moments.

This morning, I woke for the first time in days feeling the urge to leap out of bed in joy and take action. While Jennasea watercolored and energizing music played, I got out colored art pens and had quality time with my journal. I re-examined my dreams and found a different approach to bliss, and I feel the familiar welling of excitement and the stir of energy in my heart as I begin to walk a new path, and I know if I don’t pace myself, I’ll end up sprinting and forgetting that burnout occurs much too easily for me.

When I was done scrawling my vision for the future in royal purple and womanly red and earthy brown, I ascended my spiral staircase and lit some incense and breathed deep, calling on Spirit to lead me where I need to go. And the answer came in silence and a playful smile: live moment to moment, ever alert to the world around you and to your inner wisdom, but with a sense of peace and joy. I held that answer to my heart, and vowed to heed it.

Moment by moment, step by step, I walk this path, and I know that I don’t need to stress, because as long as I can find beauty and joy and love as well, and continue to follow my passions, everything will work out just as it should.


My soul is sighing.


I feel vulnerable and sensitive. This week has challenged me and left me shaken, and I gave myself permission to rest. I gave myself permission to feel the rawness of my emotions and of my aura, and nurture it with silence under a waving tea tree and in front of a grave of an owl, tea in hand and an offering of flowers in the other. My heart felt pulled in different directions this week, and so I gently tugged the tendrils back into myself and soothed it with songs and prose, because poetry is a language that forgives, that heals, that accepts.

I feel like a seed in the moist, fertile soil of Mother Maui, surrounded by volcanic darkness and longing to break through into the light. The fresh green shoot of my soul pushes up through the dirt, and sighs with the first brush of morning wind and the honey globe of sunlight. I can feel prosperity just above me, and I know that the Universe is making me wait, testing me and I want to scream i am worthy and feel the abundance flow over me like the cool tropical rain.

My soul is sighing, and I walk slowly forward in a circle of light, and feel the promise of the future right around the corner of my spiraling path.





Just a hello. I still haven’t gotten internet out at my place, and I haven’t much had blogging inspiration, though I’ve been doing plenty of art and writing privately. If you have a request for something you’d like me to write about on here, shoot me a message, and we will be “back to our regularly scheduled programming shortly.” ;)

Manifesting Dreams


I’ve got Of Monsters and Men playing on Pandora and I’m buzzing with hope and love. The beats are making my body dance of its own accord, and the other patrons of this country-town library sneak glances at me, and it makes me smile. I can see life unfolding before me, and I remember the other day that started out so down, ending by opening a pink-striped envelope and glitter raining on me. The Universe always seems to give me exactly what I need!

Intentions have been written and I feel alive as I remember early this year, when a serendipitous moment burst an epiphany into my soul: what I manifest this year will set the stage for many years to come. A giggle bubbles in my throat as I think of those future years: I can see them filled with joy, because that’s what I’m bringing about this year. My dreams are coming into being, releasing themselves from the ether and taking form in the beautiful world around me.

A life of art and writing. A life of spirituality and of entrepreneurship. Big things are happening. I know they’re all coming to fruition, because one already has: I’ve written a fiction novel, dear ones. It’s by no means the best piece of writing I’ve ever written, but I’m so, so proud of it. It excites me because I began it as an experiment, to see if I could see the novel through to the end – and I did. Soon, it will be edited and polished enough to publish.

One dream has come into being. The rest follows on my heels like adoring children – tugging on the edge of my skirt and grinning up at me, inviting me to play. I take their hands and I run across the sunlit grass, diving into the sacred pool and coming up to breathe the greenery-tinged air, offering my grateful prayers to the cotton-candy-blue sky.

Love and light,




My heart felt heavy and discouraged yesterday morning, as the morning light forced open my eyelids and demanded my presence during the day. The night had past sleepless, lying in a moonbeam, my soul wandering in the land of hopes and dreams. Sunrise touched my skin and I found it aching for him to lie beside me once more – the stresses of beginning a new life in a new place {I cannot let myself fall into a job I hate – cannot sacrifice bliss for a sort of drudgery that crushes the heart and any possibility for happiness. I’ve done it before, I cannot do it again}…it seemed to prick at the moments of incandescent joy that I felt, walking barefoot in the grass and lifting my worshipful arms to the glowing mist of morning.

I dressed simply, pulling my hair back and descending into the valley, where I sought to help my over-busy landlord-turned-friend clean her home. Upon seeing her smiling, intentional face, I let my sad soul-words drip from my lips and fall at her feet. She picked up the words, then, and transformed them into light: transitions are the hardest, but all blessings come from pain. There is joy to be found everywhere. There are moments that feel hard and coarse and unforgiving, but that’s the Universe letting us know it’s pulling us back in preparation to fling us forward. When something tells us “no”, it’s something else whispering “yes”. That’s the Universe telling me: Soon, you won’t have to find work in some little shop selling trinkets to tourists, or busing tables, or take drink orders. Soon, you will make your living by being alive…by making art and writing, by gardening and playing with children…by entrepreneurship, by following your soul’s song. 

As I scrubbed the mold from the shower corners, the song of birds and the heat of the sunshine falling onto my sweating face, I could feel the decay in my life that has built over the years and months slowly fading away, leaving gleaming white tiles and and the clarity of a new day. My heart began to blossom under the blessing of words and cleanliness and warmth, and the blossoming had a fragrant radiance, like field of spring flowers.

I passed the afternoon with the sweet-smelling grass between my toes and a book tucked within my hands – a saga of a flower child in the 60s that I picked up at the library. Her eloquent, poetic writing resonated with the blossoming in my soul, and as she wrote of her rebirth in Maui, I found tears pricking at my eyes as she seemed to write what my heart was whispering: that to die is to be reborn. And though I hadn’t been through the same heart-wrenching challenges she had gone through, I had passed through an initiation of my own.

Is the initiation over? Has death ended? I’m not sure – but what I’m sure of is the sacredness I can feel around me. I’m sure of the tapestry of the Universe I am woven into. And I’m sure of the possibilities I can see blooming before me: the way that, just when you feel closed off, the world opens, and love and light are found everywhere.




In the silent warmth of Saturday, humid air blowing and whispered proclamations glancing across our cheeks – he left, stepping into the airport to sail through the sky back to Alaska, to fish. A bittersweet sigh crossed my lips when I walked back into our apartment, and I gazed at the spaciousness of it, now that his belongings aren’t scattered here and there. The afterglow of his presence sat still in the air, and as I made a cup of tea and paced, I tried to get used to the quiet once more. In the space of an hour, the space next to me had been vacated and I found myself restless, with idle hands, confused as to what to do.

Somehow, I thought him leaving again would be easy, and I would be capable of slipping effortlessly back into a state of aloneness that isn’t necessarily lonely. I wandered from chair to couch to kitchen to the grass outside, watching the wind blow the trees in curved, graceful lines and hearing the distant crash of the waves. I felt odd without his presence at my side, and I wondered at the way love had changed who I am inside. I realized, then, that he had ceased to be a boyfriend, and progressed into being a fact of life – his life-strands had been woven by the Wyrd around my own.

I look to the next two plus months, and I resolve to busy myself with personal projects and spiritual concerns until his return. My days are suddenly free to do what I will with them – I can fill my time with a job, with art, with writing, with spirituality, with future travel plans. And when he comes back, I can share these things with him. I can feel the ache in my chest lessening as I delve myself into busy-ness, and I know that in no time, he’ll be walking out of that airport again.


I know I’ve been very absent from this blog lately, and I’m hoping that will change now that I have a lot of free time on my hands. I’m going to, shortly, continue posting 2-3 times a week, and the blogging community will be seeing much more of me.