☕ The Day I Let Myself Be Happy for Ten Dollars and a Croissant 🥐
I was born in California, Marin County, raised among the vineyards and river fog of Sonoma County, and my heart will forever belong to Napa. This land feels like home — even when I can’t afford to stay. The golden vines, the slow curve of Highway 29, the smell of earth after harvest — it’s like God exhaled art and said, “Here. Rest awhile.”
🔥 From the Fire Comes Renewal
After almost two years, I finally returned to Harbin Hot Springs — my sacred recharge station. The fire years ago burned everything false away, leaving only honesty and new light. Now the water hums. It doesn’t sedate you; it tunes you. The springs whisper, Wake up.
Bleep interrupts: “And don’t forget to hydrate. Enlightenment’s great, but dehydration makes you see way more spirits than you bargained for.”
That’s Bleep — my swearing, sarcastic hand-tattoo-puppet-guru. (Yes, he’s real. No, I can’t return him for store credit.) He’s my comic relief, my spiritual bouncer when things get too holy.
☕ A $10 Lesson in Living
This morning I let myself splurge: ten U.S. dollars at Bella Bakery in Calistoga. The owner — a humble, handsome artisan — brought me coffee himself. His kindness, his focus… the man was born for the alchemy of flour, fire, and heart.
And his huge perfect Chocolate Croissant, I swear, it opened my crown chakra.
Bleep adds: “Finally, enlightenment that comes with butter.”
That pastry reminded me that sensuality isn’t about sex — it’s about sensation. I used to live erratically. Now I live erotically — awake, aware, present. I taste, breathe, and touch life with reverence.
💫 From Surviving to Living
For decades, I lived in survival mode. I survived childhood abuse, narcissistic violence, poverty, and depression so deep it ate my reflection. I was the scapegoat, the empath, the psychic oddball no one knew what to do with.
Medication never worked for me; art did. Music did. Solitude did. And faith — not the Sunday-morning kind, but the I-am-still-here-somehow kind. I’ve lived celibate, sober, and unmedicated most of my adult life, and while it wasn’t easy, it taught me how to sit inside my own storm until it passed.
Now? The storm has cleared. My van is my chapel. The road is my therapist. The sky is my mirror.
Bleep mutters: “And the GPS is still recalculating.”
🌞 Gratitude from the Road
Right now I’m parked in Yountville, having lunch beside the vineyards. The light is honey-colored. The air smells like grapes and rain. I might stay one more night; maybe I’ll find an open mic and sing something sweet and raw to the stars.
Because this — right here — is my gratitude tour. My life, my art, my second chance. I may not have money, but I’m rich in meaning.
So I ask you — yes, you reading this on your glowing screen — to take these questions with you tonight:
If you only had one year to live, what’s the first thing you’d do tomorrow?
If you had all the money in the world, and you knew you couldn’t fail, what’s the first thing you’d do tomorrow?
What do you need to change in yourself right now to make those things possible?
Close your eyes. Feel that shift. That tiny flicker of yes. That’s your soul saying, “Let’s go.”
💌 Final Note from the Road
If you’ve ever felt broken, bullied, too much, too weird — welcome home. You’re family now. Sacred Weirdos Unite.
I’ve learned that the world doesn’t need us polished; it needs us present. Every scar, every misstep, every cosmic giggle — it’s all part of the masterpiece.
With love, laughter, and crumbs of croissant still on my lap:
Tré Taylor and Bleep the Tattoo, reporting from Yountville, California — the road, the rebirth, the ridiculously beautiful now.
Inside her glitter-covered van overlooking Napa’s golden vineyards, Bay Area jazz singer and writer Tré Taylor captures a moment of soulful simplicity. Holographic light spills across the window like a rainbow halo as she reflects on life, art, and resilience.
A full-time van-life artist and mystic, Tré transforms everyday beauty into a jazz-infused meditation on freedom, gratitude, and creative rebirth. Proof that heaven on earth can be found anywhere — even in a $10 cup of coffee and a sparkling window view.
