Feb 28, 2008
Our meeting was arranged from somebody else. Fragile hearts, looking for remedy. At the beginning totally strangers. Random pieces of a puzzle coming together for a few hour and then going back to their life.
Fragile hearts but brave too !!! Fearfull and fealess hearts.
We laugth and cry together about our fears, concern, difficulties but also our good times, victories or simply our news.
Fragile hearts .
We grow together, we learn and teach, we hear and we are heard, we help and we being helped, we give and we receive. We walk together, we are together, everyone on her own pathway.
Fragile hearts. Random pieces of a puzzle becoming a brave and strong fragile heart.
We are a very special team. I’m happy for us !!!!
Feb 26, 2008
Feb 25, 2008
Looking back to my previous blog. First reaction : “Where that did came from ?”. and “How did I let it come out ? “ Its me . I can recognize that, or that horse inside me.
I think that Leonard Cohen said that there is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in. Maybe that crack becomes bigger and more light gets in and forces the darkness to withdrawn.
But I wonder, is this the only way the light moves through that crack ? Only gets into or goes out too ? The light of our little fire burning inside us , finds a way through the crack and seeks for to other light to be one.
What is the truth ? The first , the latter or both ?Don’t know yet, but what is I’m sure about is that there is a crack and probably it becomes bigger.
This is the way I see it.
Feb 24, 2008
love is a place
& through this place of
(with brightness of peace)
all places.yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live(skilfully curled)
-love is a place... (58) by e. e. cummings
Love needs a place , in our heart , in our mind.
Love needs a Yes to come out , to let in.
Yes is a word that breaks the spell of No. Love is a word too that bears magic. Why then so hard to release its sound? To let "I love you" out.
A hard bargain of "what ifs" in the mind. We count the pros and cons. Again and again seeking in the dictionary for the definition. We check the meanings with our feelings. How confusing and how foolish !
Rehearsals to an empty chair next to us. We close our eyes and he is there.
Endless scenarios with all the details written. He'll say this or that , he'll do this or that. All the possibilities are captured for the writers pen. How foolish. Human but still foolish.
Rehearsals to an empty chair next to us. We open our eyes and he is not there. Nothing was told.
But what if ........?
But what if nothing has to be told, described, defined? What if forgetting all those definitions, words, and assumptions ?
After all love in not just a word. Its all those feelings take us and travel us to magical places. Its all those little things that our senses absorb and transformed into a little key that unlocks our heart.
Love needs just a place , in our heart , in our mind.
And I think I have a free chair for him .
Feb 22, 2008
Once, some time ago , I was asked : “what makes you happy ?” Nothing, I replied. And then I asked myself again and again, seeking for that little happiness forgotten in a corner of my mind. Took a paper and a pencil to write down my finding and start looking around. Searched everywhere but nothing was there. Even those two beautiful faces looking at me with their sparking eyes didn’t make me happy. Even those innocent “I love you “ words coming out of their tiny lips didn’t give me joy. And that nothing was becoming bigger and bigger like a black river, made of drops of sadness, has flooded my life’s plain.
All I had was a black river and a white paper.
“Find a place (inside) where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain." Says Joseph Campbell. “Easy to say” says me struggling to keep my head out of the black waters and trying to win the gravity’s force.
Candid has written in his cave’s wall “Only joy can overcome sadness, but it's hard to convince yourself of this.”
Yes, I reply, its hard to believe that. I can’t say that he is wrong, because a little voice inside me tells me that he is right but this little voice is not yet strong to convince me.
I look again in that white paper. Something is written there. Not many words, just a short list. A few things that give me joy.
I look again at the black river. Its seems now as a huge inkpot, full of black ink. I know what I need now. A fountain pen. To fill its reservoir with the river and make that list longer. Consume the sadness and create joy.
I have ink and paper. All I need is a pen. To draw a fire and burn the pain. I need a pen, to transform the ink into words. And put them in my sort lists.
Feb 21, 2008
Feb 17, 2008
All is there
At the begining
a dance in the abyss.
piece by piece,
the chaos becomes a cube
piece by piece
A separate part of a whole
piece by piece
we reach peace
with slow pace
piece by piece
no need to hurry
all is there
Feb 16, 2008
Hugs is a form of physical intimacy. Hmmm, only physical ? No !!!
Hugs can also be mental. A hug may exist without a touch and still be real.The power of giving and receiving can overcome the barriers of distance. When we need to give a *hug* there is always a way to say “I’m here for you” By a touch or not.
Hugs is like the shiny, hot, bright interval amid the cold winter days.
Feb 15, 2008
Feb 14, 2008
Feb 13, 2008
Maybe the ‘message” itself have no intelligible meaning , but, sometimes, behind that foolishness, another message is hidden. In the heart of the matter there is a need to clean up what rests inside us.
Like cleaning our basement. Going down there, open all the boxes and decide what to keep and what to throw away. During all these year, we have accumulated a lot of possessions. Useful, valuable, important for us. Some boxes contain books, photos, and memories. Things we still remember, things we have forgotten, things totally unknown to us. Box by box we travel to our past. Happy moments, sad moments, moments we thought we have deleted. The latter are the hard ones. Those sealed boxes, wrapped carefully, to prevent any possible leakage. The boxes of Pandora. Who knows in what danger we’ll be exposed.
The time has come to clean my basement. I need to make space to put some new possessions. Took some new empty boxes, sticky label and a big black marker.
Some friends are with me and give me a hand and a good company.
And I’m cleaning up inside. And I talk a lot of nonsense. I talk to myself, to the air, to my friends. Stuff and nonsense. A lot of nonsense.!!!!
Some friends are hearing a lot of nonsense those days. Stay calm and nice while I’m cleaning . Because they know. They understand that in times like this, after disappointments or “shocks”, major or minor, nonsense is a sign that we are in a transition….. to the better …. maybe….
Feb 10, 2008
Once was a wooden horse in a carousel. Day after day she was going round and round , in the same orbit. Only at nights, in her dreams, she could escape and run free under the moon’s light.
One day a man with a white dog came to the park. She noticed the dog and the dog noticed her. She could hear him and she felt she was heard. In her wooden body, trough a slight opening, a living creature got in and sat in a place where her heart supposed to be
One day, while they were talking, the dog said. “I have that image: A horse chews through her tether and runs with the moon”
The horse couldn’t say much. Inside her, a beautiful feeling filled every little spot. Searched for the right words to desribe it, but it was impossible. Every word seemed so little to reflect that feeling. She just smiled to the white dog and said “thank you !!!”.
Once she was a wooden carousel horse. Now she is a horse runing with the moon.
White Dog, thank you.
Feb 9, 2008
I love Van Gogh. Don’t ask me why and don’t expect to analyse his paintings Know so little about what is really behind them. Read some about his life, his letters, what others said about him , but in his soul nobody but he could enter and hear.
I have a poster of that painting in my home. There as some days that I lay on my sofa and just looking at this painting. I think it talks to me. Do ask me what it tells me, because I don’t know I can’t hear it. I think I talk to it but I can’t hear myself either . But its not important. It’s just there. When I need to talk, it is always there. In the wall, in my mind. It’s just there.
They say that miracles happened to those they believe them. And I’m ashamed to say that I stopped believe in miracles a lot time ago. But always something happens that make me doubt about my conviction.
Meetings again. Unexpected meetings. One of them was Yi Jing, the book of changes. When things are foggy in my mind, I turn to Yi. Like a good friend is always there to give me an answer. It helps me to make that deep dive inwards and find my answers. Creating that blog, was something that came out of nowhere ( I think ). Of course I always found a shelter to a piece of paper and it was also the encouragement of a friend told me “keep writing” , but still seem weird.
This painting and the Yi have something common. Both make my ask “how do you do that ?” And I find myself trying to find a solid explanation. To make the implicit explicit. But after I while this sentence changes to “How to you do that!!” And then I try to find the words to explain all that feelings. But how to describe a beautiful sound or image with words? We say is sounds/looks/feels like this, but “like this” or “like that” is not “what it is”. It’s something else and in the process to analyze it, we lose it. If we are luck and realized that and wise to stop it ,then, maybe we can save it. And then the only thing we want to say is “thank you” or even better say nothing. Just smile.
So I asked Yi “what is this blog for me ?” and Yi replied 24.1 to 2
Feb 8, 2008
Have you ever go for sailing. Beautiful experience. OK most of the times. Took some lessons many years ago. The captains teach us, the sailors-to-be about the sails boat, charts, knots, and winds. Early fall and we had the chance to sail in different weather conditions. No winds, mild winds, perfect winds, strong winds. Each time we had to adapt to the wind, follow his orders, and use its power to propel. Some times we could stay relaxed in the deck and enjoy our cruise. Some others we had to be alerted, to work continuously.
At the beginning or the journey we had to plan the trip. choose our destination and design the route on the chart to reach it. Usually our root was a straight line but wind and sea conditions made us to change our plans. “tack, tack” the captain ordered. And the straight line became a zig zigging . Maybe there is not a “perfect” wind. But I recall one time, which seemed like perfect. The boat was sailing smoothly in the sea. I could hear the wind making music with sails. And the boat along with the sea waves participate too.
Many years passed since then but I often go back to those moments. When there is a mess in my mind , I close my eyes and escape there. Me , the sailing boat, the sea and the invisible wind. It is there , its breezing. I can feel it my face, I can see it in seas waves, I can hear it talking with the sails. The vessel moves swimmingly and the wind blows away all the problems of my mind. And then the vessel and I become one thing and surrender to the winds gentle power.
Sailing is the art of controlling a sailing vessel. A successful sailor has to know how to sail upwind, downwind across the wind and get out of “irons” .
Does it sounds familiar ?
A bird without wings
a cart without wheels
and the dragon’s power
can’t be released
Jian is looking for her other Jian
And yin is missing her powerful yang
But the eye is blind
the ear is deafen
And the dragon is still.
Can’t reach the heaven.
The heaven speaks,
But the ear is busy
Of all the eyes
The third is sleeping.
Wings are hurt
The bird can’t fly
With broken wheels
The cart won’t roll
No dancing dragon
In heaven’s floor
The clouds in sky
don’t hold a rain
And every step,
seems like in vain
Where are you my dragon?
you should be here !!!
I see you , I hear you
and then you disappear.
My hands can’t reach you
My bird have no wings
My foot are cold
And broken are the wheels
I’ll throw them in the fire,
the bird and the cart.
With smokes and flames
I’ll make a path
to reach you, to meet you
to ask you a hug.
I want you to hold me ,
its dark and I’m alone.
I want you to dance me
To your heaven’s floor.
To take my sadness and make it joy
Where are you my dragon?
I know you are here !
Teach me to see you and
learn me to hear.
Tell me you trust me,
you love me, you care
I live in your absent
And that I can’t bear
You see me, you hear me
I know you are there.
I’m only ashes, not yet a new-born
Hold me and teach me
To find my dragon
fly to heaven
And dance with you.