Dec 16, 2009
Anything is one of a million paths. Therefore you must always keep in mind that a path is only a path; if you feel you should not follow it, you must not stay with it under any conditions. To have such clarity you must lead a disciplined life. Only then will you know that any path is only a path, and there is no affront, to oneself or to others, in dropping it if that is what your heart tells you to do. But your decision to keep on the path or to leave it must be free of fear or ambition.
I warn you. Look at every path closely and deliberately. Try it as many times as you think necessary. Then ask yourself, and yourself alone, one question. This question is one that only a very old man asks.
My benefactor told me about it once when I was young, and my blood was too vigorous for me to understand it. Now I do understand it. I will tell you what it is: Does this path have a heart?
~ Carlos Castaneda
So, does this path has a heart ?
Unfortunately, I know the answer. No this path has not a heart. I tried to make artificial heart to keep that body alive and able to walk , but those heart don’t endure. And when those artificial hearts’ stop beating we can hear the silent heart. Its depressing that silence, and I struggle to walk on every second on that heart-less path. That path is like a closed freeway but free is not how it feels. Have you ever been in just a closed road by mistake and do you remember the anxiety to find the first exit and get out ? If yes, you know what I mean.
What makes me angry is that there where some exit that I’ve failed to see and the more you walk on that path , the hardest is to get out. There were time that I was just a step away from the exit but because of some reason, I didn’t step out. Nowadays, this path is as heart-less as it can be and it looks impossible that there is any exit .
But I just realized that this path has a heart-path the one that will lead me to a path with heart. Don’t ask me how it is that path with heart, my mind doesn’t know. What I can say now is that in that path without heart there is a heart trying to go out in her own path.
umm, does this path has a heart ?????
Now I'm confused....
Dec 10, 2009
I reserved my time to see you
The appointment was fixed for today.
There was no reservation from your part.
You said : Goodnight, nice to see you
I didn’t say : Disappointment
But it was.
...All rights reserved
Nov 26, 2009
to untie our Gordian knots
creating a strong rope
to climb to the sky
against the gravity
and the chain ball
tied on our legs.
-Its heavy , can you hold it?
-Yes, I can.
To the Monday's girls
Nov 12, 2009
Yup . I did it !!!
After a long time I open again my drawing block. The reason I closed it , many months ago , was because of lack of inspiration. Hmm, not sure if that is true though, cuz lately I feel that I avoid to draw . Like I fear to see those thoughts and feelings on the paper.
Some days ago, a friend of mine was talking about her diaries when she was younger. She was writing almost every day. And then I remembered that I never did that. I was given , as a gift, many little books with lockers but never used them. It was like I didn’t want to leave traces.
I remember that there was a story, in one of the girls magazine I used to buy as a child, where a girl could read the thought of other people. She was living with her step mother and her children. Those people didn’t love that little girl and make a lot of bad thoughts and the girl could hear them. It was a sad story. Don’t recall what happened to her, perhaps she found someone to love her and they lived happily ever after but I’m pretty sure that that was the reason I never kept a diary and tried to hide my thoughts, even from myself. No traces !!!
Funny isn’t it to read that the owner of this blog, many years ago, she didn’t want to write even in the diary books with the locker.
This blog, my drawing is my way to delve to the underworld and that is not easy . it needs to have the guts to do that “hypervasis” as we say in our language. I can’t find an English work that explain it , or I’m not aware of any, but is a kind of going beyond your what-you-think limits, power, possibilities.
So today, I did my self hypervasis, even if that means just to start drawing again. Hmm, on second thought, looking back at the no-traces period, actually it’s a Hypervasis.
Yup . I did it !!!
Nov 1, 2009
Oct 22, 2009
Oct 19, 2009
“Martin disappears and a family appears”, said a friend of Martin's in her farewell speech.
And me, a member of this family. A family which consists of people I have never met in blood and flesh before but I knew little story’s about them. Beautiful, kind, warm people living miles away from me but I feel so close to them. One might say, “this is not a family!” but to me feels like one. I can’t explain it with words. There is something special that bonds us and the bond himself is not here anymore, so each of us has the other to create the place for the one we miss and create a place to share ourselves too.
Martin brought us together and he arranged a big party where we could celebrate. That was his wish. That party was because of his death but I felt that is was about life. “A life that it can be shared is a stolen life” says a song and I’m grateful that among other gifts I got a new family too, to share, to give and receive.
He got us together and I hope we keep it together. I'm loking forward for the reunion, to rise our glasses and toast once again to Martin, to us, to life.
Oct 1, 2009
Around midnight the sun came out and shone bright.
I read next day’s newspapers. Nothing was written about it.
Nothings about the moon’s spells and sun’s warmth.
Nobody saw that , but me.
And I know nothing about that.
Struggling to find a word to describe it.
Asking my mind, it says “don’t know”
Asking my heart and it says “bliss”
Sep 30, 2009
at my side of the bridge
although I know
you‘ll not be there
for our appointment.
your cold hands
I have to find another way
Sep 22, 2009
A dear friend left this planet. I try to talk about him but then I talk to him and he talk me back and then I forget what I wanted to write.
We had good times and bad times but we could talk and dissolve the black clouds. An open sharing, what else one needs.
I’m sad and I cry and then he comes and talks to me and makes me laugh. I try to think if every was said between us. Nothing important is missing, I shared them with him. For the only thing I’m not very sure is if I said him enough times that I love him.
Have a wonderful journey to your new home penguin.
Sep 17, 2009
Sep 12, 2009
Sep 4, 2009
enthusiasm, from Gk. enthousiasmos, from enthousiazein "be inspired". The source of the word is the Greek enthousiasmos, which ultimately comes from the adjective entheos, "having the god within," formed from en, "in, within," and theos, "god."
I went back to my reading. And it was clear. Maybe there are still things I haven’t see yet, but I know where is the way out.
It’s “That within” . And even if you have to face big challenges, “That within” has a voice which says “everything will be OK” And more than ever, I understand.
Aug 29, 2009
The other day I got an invitation so I had to think whether I should say yes or no. I tried to think all the possible what-if- I-do-it/ what-if-I-don’t scenarios . I found myself unable to predict the answers, actually I laughed with myself. I had to Ask Yi too. Not sure for its answer too. So I just did it, without really expecting something. Without any concern about the result, I started writing the story and it was really fun to do it.
Here it is …
... And yes I'm showing off , hahaha
Aug 24, 2009
A friend told me the following, couple of days ago. Oh, I wish I could put into paper all the thought aroused that saying in my mind. I choose to post it here without analyzing. Some things are simply beautiful and I think its better them that way.
"... aware of existing in a place of infinate possiblity,
he plants his feet firmly on the ground,
which floats in space ... "
Only thing I want is to add that picture, the first thing came in my mind when I hear my friend's words.
Aug 17, 2009
Now, I’m writing this, I’m thinking of putting some links of previous posts that come in my mind now, about dives in the abysmal water, but its not necessary. Somewhere inside us there is a reservoir of experience, our history, a record of where we come from. And in this blog some parts of that history have be written. No need to repeat them. Its history. What is more important is where we go. We walk in a path with our book of life in a pocket like a survival kit. And we move on, with a little more experience. Just a little more higher as Seferis says in his poem.
Just a little more
And we shall see the almond trees in blossom
The marbles shining in the sun
The sea, the curling waves.
Just a little more
Let us rise just a little higher.
p.s. Van Gogh's Almond tree was one of the most indifferent painting to me, till I saw the original painting and changed my mind. Its the smile I'm talking about.
Aug 7, 2009
So this is my first "return" blog entry. Not a biggie but great at the same time.
Wandering around , I missed my home.
Still rusty, slow moving.
But…….. I’m coming back
Jul 6, 2009
Jul 5, 2009
Jul 4, 2009
You have to take that knife and cut the rop that holds you with the other
And it feels that you have to cut a piece of your heart too,
The piece where the others lives.
Then , one day,
You hear your self saying goodbye
With such a easyness, that makes you wonder.
“was that easy ?”
No, it wasn’t , just it needed time.
Some of this goodbyes are kind of magical
Because the one you disconnect with, returns.
Not in flesh and blood but in spirit.
Like he did. Absent and present.
In my dreams, that’s where I met him again.
Years after our last meeting.
I was talking to him and he was reading between the lines.
You know that feeling ?
With some people we are bond forever
even if we walk in different paths
And when air is not enough to breathe
that breeze says that goodbyes
ain't strong enough to cut that bonds.
Hi there !
Jun 29, 2009
Jun 27, 2009
Jun 18, 2009
Jun 9, 2009
The years passed and she never ceased to say “Me, me !!! I can do it !! After a long time it become a habit. Meme was happy because she could help and other where happy too because they where helped. People didn’t ask anymore. It was expected that Meme will help them. And Meme didn’t wait at all. When she was seeing someone needed help, she was running to them and giving a helping hand.
Meme was so reckless that she didn’t realized that she was spending too much of herself to help others. Sometimes she didn’t have the stamina, but even then she was gathering every small fractal of courage to honor her name. She was Meme .
Till not power left and she couldn’t do anything.
People start whispering. “She didn’t help me, she doesn’t care for me.” And then they were complaining to her. Some of them, frustrated, they told her. “Meme, you are so egocentric. You don’t give a damn for me” I was expecting to hear that, Meme told me. I knew it was coming. But I didn’t do much to prevent it. It’s not just their fault, is mine too. I let them do that. But now I want to change it because it’s wrong for me and for them too.
She didn’t said anything else. When she is sad, she disappears at her secret room. She seals her mouth and her door.
“I have to go now” she told me and she stood up to leave. She walked some step , she turn to me and told me.
-“Meme is not my real name, you know that ?”
- Yes, I do, I replied
- I didn't, Meme said.
Jun 1, 2009
May 27, 2009
May 26, 2009
Old news you might say and something of no big importance. But today I felt like talking about it. I recall those few hours , where the only important thing was writing that story. Like the time had freeze outside and the whole world was just that room. That was a nice break. Such brakes I miss lately.
Small victories, against the tyran clock. Not bad !!!
May 12, 2009
May 7, 2009
Apr 23, 2009
Apr 21, 2009
He came to meet me.
I met him at the airport.
Our first face to face meeting.
He was warm. I was frozen.
Apr 12, 2009
Till the phone rang.
I don’t spend much time to my home nowadays. That phone call said that I have to spend many hours in a hospital by my mom who had an accident, and then to her house, since she has not someone else to take care of her. A call that I couldn’t say no.
I was very angry at the beginning. Angry not with my mom, but for the timing of that accident. That same day, I felt strong to fight for my time and my space, a call that asks to put myself aside because someone else needs your help. “Why now, why now” I kept asking, but no answer.
I suspect I know why. Olds issues locked and sealed in my mind’s safety box make noises. Painkillers reduce my back’s and knees’ pain and help me move and sleep. Not much improvement, but even that little relief is welcome. It’s not the right time to complain, once again. Time to be strong, once again.
Painkillers for the pain but nothing yet for those noises.
At least, I maybe have an answer for my “why now ?” question
I shouldn’t complain, Should I ?
Apr 5, 2009
Mar 24, 2009
That was a mandala, I start making. Its not like that anymore. I ruin it. This is what happens, I guess, when you lose contact with what you do.
So, now , its time to press the pause button. I want to return there and correct what I spoiled.
There is not a rewind button in real life.
Mar 23, 2009
This is a drawing from my Play-Book. ( have play also with photobucket's tools).
My Play book is were I experement with ideas. I draw, I change colors and usually I destroy the painting , but is a free place and I like it.
Mar 21, 2009
Mar 10, 2009
Mar 7, 2009
Mar 5, 2009
Even the cooking knives, those living in that strange wooden box, on the kitchen’s bench liked him. Especially, the chef’s knife who was wise and knew many stories.They were chatting, when they gathered in the dishwasher and eventually they become friends. He admired the Chef's Knife and had learned a lot from him. He regarded him as a teacher, the teacher he always wanted to have. “take care of your blade”, sometimes he was telling him but the little knife couldn’t understand what he was talking about and he was cutting and cutting and everybody was saying “What a sharp knife !!!” , and the knife was cutting more and more.
But after a long time it was more difficult to cut, needed more effort to do his job, and had to try harder and harder. The other knives and spoons and forks in the drawer were telling him. “Your blade is ill. You have to rest it for a while” but the knife couldn’t let down the wife , the husband and the boys. They will be disappointed, he thought and he was trying harder and harder to cut. Till the day the blade couldn’t cut anything. Even a piece of cake ."I can’t cut anymore" , he said to the house wife but she could hear him and forced him to the cut. And his husband when he took to fix some cords, he couldn’t here him too. "I can’t cut" , the knife was telling him but the man was cutting and cutting.
That night, in the kitchens drawer, he retreated in a corner at the cutlery tray and crying about his blade. "I’m not a sharp knife anymore", he said. "People won’t love me. I have nothing to offer", and he started crying and crying and crying.
He was embarrassed for not being not sharp anymore, and sad because he couldn’t be friends with the chef's knife. He won’t love now. Why such a sharp knife want the company of a dull knife like me, he thought. Even if we wanted to talk to him he was trying to avoid the Chef’s knife. But, after some days, they met again in the dishwasher.
- "Where have you been . I lost you" , he said to him
- "Yes, It didn’t happened to see you" , he said and tried to get away from him to not see his wounded blade.
- "Are you well ?", he asked him.
Hesitated for a moment, did not want to know his secret, but the way he looked at him he though he knew, so he decide to tell him what was going on
- "Did you tried to sharpen your blade on your stone? ", the chef’s knife asked
- "No ,which , stone?"
- "There is a stone in the top drawer above yours. Ask her. Maybe she can help you".
So, the little knife, that same evening, when all were asleep, he left the cutlery tray, snuck into the gap between the drawers and climbed to the top floor, to find the stone.
- "Can you help me", he asked her.
The stone, examined briefly his blade and then told him
-"Hmmm, a difficult case. I’ll do my best but don’t expect much. Come next to me and started to sharpen your blade on me".
Immediately, the little knife start grinding. For three evening, he was going upstairs, to the sharpening stone and grinding and grinding and grinding. It was almost dawn and he was tired. --“See you tomorrow” said to the stone.
-“Um, better not”, the stone told him. “I don’t think I can help you more. This is the best you could get”.
-“But..”, the knife tried to say something.
-“You better go now. Good luck” said the stone and went to her bed.
- "Did you went to the stone", asked the chef's knife, the next day when they met in the kitchen’s bench
- "Yes I did. I can cut a little better but not as before. She told me not to go again. It’s pointless"
-"I see. How are you?" he asked
Tear came to his eyes and start crying
-“You know, sometimes, it’s difficult for me too to cut. What I do is trying to find a point which has less resistance and concentrate on that”, he heard the chef’s knife telling him.
-“what do you mean ?”, he asked, but he didn’t manage to hear the answer because the woman took him and put him to the cutlery tray.
In the afternoon, he spread some Merenta for the children, to eat. They were sitting around the kitchen’s table to do their homework. The older boy had an assignment. To make from something unusable something else useful.
«Why do not you make a paperknife», said to the boy his mother, while leafing through a book with ideas.
The knife heard that. “me, useless ...not me”, he thought . But then he remembered the stone’s words and what the chief’s knife told him. “A paperknife, I can do that. I have done it in the past. It was very easy.Perhaps as a paperknife I’ll be useful and alive again".
So, he walked to the edge of the bench. “I’ll just , fall down, make a noise so they will se me and make me a paperknife. Yes this is a good plan” said with joy.
But the vast gap makes he retreat.
- Jump, says the chef's knife which he saw from afar and have understood the plan.
- I can not, I fear
- You can, he says to him
-"But it is too high, it will break, I fear. And if I break they will thrown me away".
- "I am pretty sure that you can manage it.. You may not have understood so far, but it was not only your sharp blade that help you cut, but your power too. You can do it”, says the chief’s knife and smiles to him.
The little knife is looking the Chef’s knife and then the void under his feet. Makes a step forth and then back and the same thing again and again. Then, he looks at the chief’s knife again, takes a deep breath and jumps.
Once upon a time, in a cutlery tray there was a little knife with a sharp blade, who’s blade become dull. He doesn’t live there anymore. He moved. Up there. On the kitchen’s bench. In a case with pens and pencils, near the phone, next to a cube with colourful papers. Paperknife, they call him now and he is happy in his new home.
Note : This story is not finished yet but I post it as a first draft, so bear with me :)
Mar 4, 2009
But those foggy days, say its back.
That little monster, my stamina’s foe.
A rain of arrows attacks the body
Enormous clouds swallow the mind
Yes, that little monster is here again.
Feb 23, 2009
The Knife was cutting and cutting and everybody was saying “What a sharp knife !!!” and the knife was cutting more and more. But after a long time it was more difficult to cut, needed more effort to do his job, and had to try harder and harder. The other knives and spoons and forks in the drawer was telling him. “Your blade is ill. You have to rest it for a while” but the knife couldn’t let down the wife and the husband and the boys. They will be disappointed, he thought and he was trying harder and harder to cut. Till the day the blade couldn’t cut anything. Even the toast bread .
I can’t cut anymore, he said to the house wife but she could hear him and forced him to the cut. And his husband when he took to fix some cords, he couldn’t here him too. I can’t not cut, the knife was telling him but the man was cutting and cutting.
At the nights, in the kitchens drawer, he retreated in a corner at the cutlery tray and crying about his blade.
I’m not a sharp knife anymore, he said. People won’t love me. I have nothing to offer and he started crying again.
( to be continued)
Feb 22, 2009
counting the ticks
counting the tocks
tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock
joy goes bankrupted
and a train arrives at the platform
to travel me away
for that trip
Business or pleasure ?
The chit- chat lady asks
Joy or pressure ?
She ask again.
The clock-watchers keep counting
Feb 21, 2009
Feb 19, 2009
In painting, I was told , the first thing you should do is just draw a colored shape of the pbject you want to put on the canvas. No details etc, just a shape. And then work with the shades to help the object come out.
I guess I can use that tip in writing too.
We will see…
Feb 17, 2009
Feb 6, 2009
It’s been one year since my first blog entry. I signed Blogger, without thinking a lot because if I had ponder on that a lot about my writing skills or the worth of the things I wanted to write about , I wouldn’t have done it.
A good friend was telling me “keep writing” and after a long time , or when it was the right time I thought to five it a try. So I started writing what I was overhearing from the talks between the horse and the moon.
This blog , has become an important part of me. It feels home, I tried to make it home and I have a great time here.
And today I open my home, to share with you, a glass of wine and to tell you a big “Thank you”
Thank you for riding with me.
Feb 5, 2009
Talked to my very closed friend today. In the past we talked almost everyday but now not that often. Last time we talked was the new years day. Her life has change with a baby in her family and me, going through a asocial phase. Even we don’t meet or talk that often, I fell we are closer than ever. I told her that I need to re-invent my own space and choose how to fill it. She told me that she understands. She does.
One of those days, we are going to meet. I miss her a lot and she miss me too but we feel closer than ever.
That’s good, isn’t it ?
Jan 31, 2009
Jan 26, 2009
Jan 25, 2009
Jan 22, 2009
Jan 20, 2009
Candid’s and Karin’s blogs talk to me, talk about me. Talk about the things I have in my mind, things that happen now in my life. Strange coincidences ot not just coincidences.
I have to climb that mountain on my own, but I’m not alone.
Jan 17, 2009
- wooden horse
- many colors
- black & white
This is my first assignment for my fairy tale writing course. I am excited !!!
Each word was choosen among other 10. Why those word? I don't know. We'll see
Going to write now the images I have in my mind.
I'm excited !!!
Jan 14, 2009
Jan 11, 2009
Jan 9, 2009
While testing my new pencils, in my mind I was hearing something I had read.
When my daughter was about seven years old, she asked me one day what I did at work. I told her I worked at the college - that my job was to teach people how to draw. She stared at me, incredulous, and said, "You mean they forget?"
Jan 8, 2009
Seems like a path
where at the other side
things find us.
We click on a link
and cling with wonderful people.
In that virtual world
there is something real
we see and been seen
even if we don’t know faces
we hear and been heard
even if we don’t know voices
we feel warm hugs
even we can’t touch
friends @ virtualworld.com
thank you !!!
Jan 6, 2009
Must have been ages since I last used wax crayons. Don’t want to count the years. Yesterday I should have been somewhere else. My friends wanted to see me, but I wasn’t in that mood. Instead of that , I choose to play with my watercolor pencils and wax crayons. Some weeks ago I bought them and till yesterday the box was closed. I colored a mandala I had printed and after finished it I wanted to test the crayons. What you see in the image above is what came up from it. Nothings special but I like those people – silhouettes
Different people. Great and small, like the ones livings inside us. People that can create good things or bad. People that are born to be leaders or followers. Different people, living in the same soul.
This reminds me of the hexagram 7 from the Book of Changes (Yi Jing) , The Army. Wilhelm’s translation says :
AN ARMY is a mass that needs organization in order to become a fighting force. Without strict discipline nothing can be accomplished, but this discipline must not be achieved by force. It requires a strong man who captures the hearts of the people and awakens their enthusiasm.
This is what an army needs. A strong General. To organize it, to make the rules and wisely assign each soldier to the proper position.
Well, what I was saying ???
Oh, yes, that the picture above is what it came up while I was testing my new wax crayons.