Oh I'm on my way, I know I am, somewhere not so far from here All I know is all I feel right now, I feel the power growing in my hair Sitting on my own not by myself, everybody's here with me I don't need to touch your face to know, and I don't need to use my eyes to see I keep on wondering if I sleep too long, will I always wake up the same (or so)? And keep on wondering if I sleep too long, will I even wake up again or something Oh I'm on my way I know I am, but times there were when I thought not Bleeding half my soul in bad company, I thank the moon I had the strength to stop I'm not making love to anyone's wishes, only for that light I see 'Cause when I'm dead and lowered low in my grave, that's gonna be the only thing that's left of me And if I make it to the waterside, will I even find me a boat (or so)? And if I make it to the waterside, I'll be sure to write you a note or something Oh I'm on my way, I know I am, somewhere not so far from here All I know is all I feel right now, I feel the power growing in my hair Oh life is like a maze of doors and they all open from the side you're on Just keep on pushing hard boy, try as you may You're going to wind up where you started from You're going to wind up where you started from - CAT STEVENS
All words that have been beating inside me. Running through every bit of my body. This is not just poetic talk, but it's been a bit of a theme lately-- questioning the existence of fate. Is destiny a part of my life, something i believe in?
I'm a strong believer that things happen for a reason. I do have faith on the all-empowering knowledge, a certain logic, karma to life. Understanding karma as "action-reaction". For me there is no luck. There are only opportunities to see, grab on to, and savor. Opportunities rise constantly, rise according to our actions, our intentions, our curiosity and our attraction.
So, then...destiny?
Is it pure chance that i met you?
Is it casual?
Is it vain?
The things I feel respond to what?
My being here,
our timing,
is what?
There is no blind goddess turning the wheel blindly,
we build,
we can build.
Yet i feel it not trivial,
but willful.
The will to live,
i have.
The eyes to see,
the skin to feel,
the mouth to taste.
I hear.
Is it pure chance that i met you?
Is it pure chance that i'm here?
right here, right now.
Wheels that turn, fates that are sealed.
Sealed and opened.
Opened and burned.
Samsāra.
The cycles of life.
The everlasting flow.
The births and rebirths.
The continuous wheel of existence.
"He flows into himself".
Whether you believe in reincarnation, that this is just one more passing cycle, one more realm in which we were born and from which we will die. Whether it is your belief, or not, there is one reality we can not escape from: death. All of us, one way or another, sooner or later, will no longer participate actively in this present world.
For one, this premise does not scare me. It used to. An automatic current of thought submerged my whole body and created this huge terrifying wave making me feel and think: "death is absolutely horrifying, scary, my enemy." There was also the idea that with death I was "cut short". Death meant losing something...a whole lot. I sometimes recreated the moment of death (it mostly, happened while I was on a plane, past 4 hours off the ground), and my monologue began: I didn't do this! I won't be able to do that!"...
So what am I doing at this moment? I have that. I found a great relief, an indescribable joy, freedom and responsibility placing the focus on the other end. Not running away or ignoring the presence of death, but welcoming it. Yes, remove the veil of avidyā (ignorance) and really observe, perceive, the presence of death in everything.
I once read this beautiful description and illustration of life and death: we are butterflies. We are born, have the divine possibility to transform and fly. We can only do so because there is life and death. As butterflies we have one wing that is life, and one that is death. We can only fly with the presence of both. Each just as important, each symmetrically a part of us.
Our life is not egotistically more valuable than anyone/anything else.
Yet it is extremely important, magnificent and divine.
We have star divinity, rich powerful magma inside.
Where do you fly with the wings of life and death?
I cherish life and have become more and more in love with its beauty.
I'm in love with you.
I'm faithful, I'm passionate, I'm caring, I'm loving.
(Immature love says: I love you because I need you.
Mature love says: I need you because I love you.)
Somos seres de luz. We are beings of light. Energy. Break us down to it's minimal level, beyond atoms, beyond protons, neutrons and electrons-- we are energy. Cómo nos golpeamos la cabeza por lo material: lo que tenemos, lo que no tenemos, lo que somos y lo que queremos ser, cómo queremos ser. We go around bumping heads, beating ourselves up with what we have, what we don't have, what we are, what we want to be, how we want to be. Nos une la luz. Nos une la energía que atraemos, que mutamos en nosotros y repartimos. Light brings us together. We are bonded by light--that which we attract, repel, receive, twist and turn, share. Donde hay luz hay obscuridad. La belleza los opuestos, la fe en lo opuesto. Siempre hay posibilidad de otro, de lo contrario, de rendirse y probar lo desconocido y distinto. No hay sino que nos condene, no hay presente que no escurra y no se vuelva pasado. El elemento de fe, el poder de abstracción de estimar, decidir, confabular y encaminar. Where there is light there is darkness. The beauty of opposition, faith in the existence of the opposite. There always lies amongst us something else, the other, the possibility of surrendering and trying the unknown, the different, the unusual. There is no designated star, no oracle that condemns us. There is no such things a present that does not slide through us and doesn't become past. Faith, hope. The power of the abstract, of estimating, deciding, confabulating and directing. Toda actividad y acción atrae, recibe, encapsula, comparte, entrega energía. Desde lo que se considera innato, mecánico--como la respiración--recorre este flujo. Actos complejos se atan al flujo energético. Luz. Frecuencia. Vida. El acto de amar, en el reino físico como el emocional, es un pasar de energía. El ir y venir, el alejarse para acercarse, el entregar y recibir, el entrar y salir. Dar Luz. Every action attracts, receives, holds, shares and delivers energy. From what might be considered innate, habitual and mechanical--such as the breath--undergoes this flow. Complex, compound actions all bind to this energy flow. Light. Frequency. Life. Love. The act of loving, both in the physical and emotional realm, sums up to a passing of energy. The coming and going, the stepping away to come close, the giving and receiving, entering and exiting. To Give Light.
DAR LUZ- (Elizabeth Morris) Sombra no me dejes sola no te vayas con el viento. Puedo ser también tu sombra dibujar tus movimientos, ya no sé cómo explicarte que tu lluvia me hace falta que me ate al dulce veneno de tu amor que se me arranca. Dices que tienes miedo que no te atreves a amar de nuevo. Yo solo quiero darte luz cobijar tus sueños, abre esa ventanita del corazón que has olvidado antes de que amanezca quiero saber si estas a mi lado. Lluvia, mójame despacio cada vez que estés desnuda yo también puedo mojarte repartir mi danza muda. Dices que tienes miedo y de repente desapareces, yo me quedo en silencio como tantas veces. Abre esa ventanita del corazón que estoy llorando.
Waking up before the crack of dawn. After silencing my alarm clock I lie on bed for a few minutes. What day is it? What is going on? Checking in with this world, saying farewell to world of dreams. New adventures to encounter, new obstacles to endure. OK. GO. I love mornings. I love love mornings. I have been experiencing this new energy run through me. It has another quality. It's a giggle, it's electric. It's like water running in, out, through. It's also smoke, slowly covering every inch of my body. It's playful, it's sensual, it's creative. The feeling of being an animal. The feeling of being instinctive, being alive and aware of what's going on around. The static winds have been driving me crazy with excitement. Wanting to go out and let it swirl me. Hit my face, breathe it in. The rain has shown me power. Has shown me about rhythm, waves of water; shown me the beauty of listening, waiting, letting go. Today the mountains have shown me greatness. Beauty. Magnificence. The Andes today are pure art: provoking a range of emotions in me. Wanting to stand and stare. I love you morning. * Fía.
A drop of wine.
A round thick burgundy drop.
Luscious drops that blush my cheeks, heat my body.
I'm not much of a drinker, but there are moments when it surely is a good companion.
There must be a reason for my allusion to wine. It might be the predicted rain for these next two days that make me want to run and hide in some remote place surrounded by nature, by a chimney, a bottle of wine and some nice company.
The light and heat of fire, surrounding my skin, dancing in front of me.
My eyelids slowly open and close...each minute making the opening and closing a bit longer. I feel my body, my mind, surrendering to the possible impossible. To the possibly maybe. Where I can travel, visit, experience with no boundaries--no time, no beginning or ending, no consequences or fear.
I speak different languages, I speak with no words. I meet the forbidden, I reach the unreachable.
And blink, blink, blink.
I'm giving in, I give in, I surrender and fight no more.
How nice and seductive it feels to let go and fall into the arms of night.
To fall into arms, fall into you.
You conquer me.
I follow.
I breathe you.
I suck your air, which makes me dizzy.
Head over feet.
I smoke you in,
I drop my head back.
So much has been said about this idea. So close and yet so far...and vice versa, far away so close. I think this is a nice way of pointing out that the physical world is only one dimension to things, and that inversely, real connection, true bonding, close hearts can sometimes not necessarily touch. I write out to i don't know who. I sometimes feel like it's a direct voice to someone/something. Sometimes it is just a voice to myself. Sometimes it's just a crystallized drop from my inner fountain, without a receiver. Still i write. From a place where mind meets heart meets body. I feel things. My words arouse me. Never been so truthful. Far away so close. You are. Far away so close. My dream. Far away so close you put me to sleep. Far away so close you rise me. The blackened sky and diamond stars envelop our bodies. If i were wind, i'd travel towards your skin. If i were air, i'd search your lips. Far away so close. You are. I dream you. For there we meet, for there you are. Far away so close. I'll meet you. Resisting is useless, you are not here. But you'll come. It's what we yearn, what we attract and what we dream. Doubt is the enemy, loss of faith is doom. Colors, life and love are always with us, ready to be found. Fía.
Howl. I howled. Two nights ago. Literally. I felt the spirit within me take over. A larger light rising. Under the rain, literally. Below the high voltages of lightning and the rolling of thunder. Literally. And it was great proof of how we are all coming from the same blood, the same mother nature, born from the same sap. I saw myself as bird, as wolf, as feline, as flower. Looking up. Senses activated. Full attentive. And there is something greater. A greatness that sprouts from within, and then surrounds us. I felt nothing and everything under the shouting night. Nature spoke, and my animal spirit responded. Literally. Was it a coincidence that I was watching a film about the Tree of Life? Is it a coincidence it has been something I've been discussing and reflecting upon lately? Is it pure chance that I cover myself every night with an Indian illustration of the tree? ... I am fascinated observing the world work. Fascinated by discovering my being here, my relationships and how each connection is absolutely unique, one and only. There are moments when i just don't want to talk, and i call for feeling, exploring. I'm a bit tired of empty blabber or conversations that lack blood. I listen to politics and it's all a miserable show. Bad taste and very far away from truth. I see how language has deteriorated and now it's all empty words with bad spelling, lack of meaning. I want to cast some light on simple, full, rich moments. Holding, caressing someone else's skin...with yours. Feel the rain. It's falling..from the sky. It cleanses, it bathes, it's water (life!) falling down on us. There's lightning and energy, there's light. Thunder. Roaring. Howl.
I write not about gymnastics, though a hidden secret desire of mine has always been to be a gymnast, somersault away...or a dancer. (how cliché of me, girly of me, i know) I write about heart somersaults. The twist and turns of the heart. Surprises, Leaps of joy, Unexpected happenings, Overwhelming emotions. We've all had them. A flirty smile, an outrageous laugh, playful tears, or a minuscule drop of sorrow. A gasp of air, a trembling shout, a deep sigh, a provocative moan. One of those moments that makes you feel alive, makes you realize of the present moment, provides the comprehension that you are not alone, that there is an inevitable connection with others, with the belonging to something bigger than yourself. I absolutely love and live for those moments. I dwell on such thoughts. Sure "i could be doing something more productive", i could say....and it's taken me thousands of minutes, days and weeks to believe it is nonsense, believe it with my whole body. I've shoved it out of the way, played dumb, numbed my heart and my body--believing life must be "filled" with useful actions, with useful things. There is nothing to fill. What is useful? And to who? For what? I'm not the same person i was. I'm learning about compassion, I'm exploring forgiveness, I'm discovering the feverish delight of feeling, yearning, desiring. I invite those correct, polite, rigid, straight-lined pedestrians to somersault. Leap up and back and around. Defy gravity, fly. Entrust your heart, open the solar plexus. Extend your arms, trust your hands. Let your body follow, place your feet on the ground, let the blood rush through you, and stand. Feel. Somersault. Fía.
pica, pica, picaflor. Tengo un amigo de alas veloces. Se mimetiza con los verdes, amarillos. Tan pequeño, tan frágil. Me gustas. Rápido, un rayo de energía. Te inyectas en las flores, succionas la miel más pura, dulce de vida. Te suspendes en tu alimento, en la delicia. Vienes y te vas. Volverás mañana? Ser pequeño, fuerte, bello y audaz. Me gustas. Soy tuya. Somos todos seres hermosos. Somos todos parte de lo que nos rodea, y nuestro comportamiento con aquello nos hace formar parte de la hermosura. Somos todos espíritus con historias, todos con historias que contar e historias que crear. La naturaleza--todo lo viviente-- vive, muere y se vuelve a generar. Yo soy tierra, soy aire, fuego, agua y aire. Por qué desconocer(nos)? Por qué maltratar(nos)? Mi alma sabe de bosques, sabe de montañas, campos, desiertos, mares, volcanes, selvas. Con todo eso amo. Amo con mi cuerpo entero--mi amor pasado, mi presente amor y aquello que podría amar. --Fía.
Yesterday I dreamt about cliffs. I dreamt about rocky cliffs and forests. Rocky cliffs and forests and ocean. I was traveling, walking, exploring. Climbing, descending, breathing and observing. I was not alone. I had my loved ones with me. In my journey. But I was me. I was I. On my feet. On my path. In my dream I took pictures. I took pictures of what i saw, of what i felt. The pictures were of green, grayish-black rocks and ocean mist. The waves hit hard, hit with no pain, but with life. The forests breathed that pure mist, so did my lungs. I jumped and played amongst the rocks, I was dreaming a dream. I noticed a bear, a white and black bear that lived beneath and between the rocks. I went to him. There were shouts of warning, of fear. But i went. I jump and he came after me. He placed his mouth in my back and kissed me. I jumped and he came after me. He placed his head beneath me and lifted me. I turned around. Stood still. We gazed at each other and came close. Our necks embraced each other. We caressed each other. I climbed and left him. He is a part of me. I am a part of him. I dreamt of rocks, of forests, of ocean. I dreamt of a heart. I dreamt of life and spirit. --Fía.
The yearning to write. It's been beating inside me for days, weeks even. Now sitting in my kitchen table-- wearing my cooking apron, smelling the mild sweetness of a freshly baked zucchini-cherry cake, and perceiving how the sun sets, welcoming the black night-- i sit and write. Ah, bliss. I come across ideas, I run into words, I experience new magical moments, I read some exciting piece of writing, I wake up from a fascinating dream... all calls me to write. And i write key words in loose pieces of papers. On a random post-it, A receipt, The last page of a notebook, On my calendar. What should i address now? How can these little jewels scattered in my mind come together to create a beautiful treasure to share? I shall not push it. I shall not fall into the tempting hands of expectation. Like a flock of geese, that flies across the silky sky, i shall let it run through me. As never before have I lived through my body, breathed the air of each new coming day, and have given myself a space for gratefulness, compassion, and contentment. The glass half full or half empty? The grass is greener on the other side? (but have you ever been "on the other side"? or better yet, have you ever given yourself the chance to ever "be on the other side?") I have long been on the empty half of things, on the sterile, dirt, grass-less side. And for goodness sake, how tiring, time-consuming, motion-less, stressful it is! Identifying with this state of being, defining myself as a part of the disgrace, and making it normal can be the worst kind of addiction. I existed because I felt lacking. I existed because of my daily suffering. That was normal, that was the way it should be. I had read about turning the page. About making a switch. I heard people talk of the goodness and miracle of life-- and i had tiny moments of clarity, never quite long enough to permeate. I watched videos, read articles, had long conversations with myself... but alas! I had to live through it. And now i say: it actually is somewhat like turning a page. It is making a step, that feels so good, that you basically can't and won't go back. I ask myself (even though it's not particularly very useful) what/how did this all begin? I've reviewed in my mind memories, experiences. Used the analytical microscope to get a hold of a specific moment when playing through life, daring to follow impulses, creating, speaking, imagining, exploring became "dangerous". Where did all the fear come from? Where and when did the calculating, the panic, the over-analyzing, and the controlling start to reign my free spirit? And my answer can't get any better than this: it's epidemic. It's been installed very cleverly and very deeply in the spirit of societies. It's the dark current that has been weaved into us. It's a system of imprisonment. We are the prisoners in Plato's cave, we are made to think we are in the land of the free, but lets take a better look, shall we? There is no time for spontaneity. No space for the curious, the playful, the explorer, the daring. It is truly weakening, making us ill. For example, i believe sex is not something you do, it's a place you go. We are forgetting such place. Fearing it, underestimating it. Making blood, hearts and minds cold. Stone cold. How stimulating is it to be aroused, to have have your temperature rise, to experience desire, pleasure and eroticism? No energizing drink, strong espresso or hot chili can compare. You glow. So. Well-being, love and happiness. Being able to stand on your feet, willingly and faithfully take a step. Contentment. There is no greener side, there is no other side. Make this one green. Compassion. You are you: with you, with others. For you, for others.You are part of you and of us all. Grace. I love waking up at the crack of dawn, and breathe with the Earth, communing with life. It is priceless, unmeasurable, giving yourself the time to hear the sounds inside you and around you. Sensing day by day the temperature in your skin. Allowing your thoughts, ideas, dreams and feelings surf through the currents of your spirit. Perceiving how the world works with you: your heart beats and beats and beats, while the sun rises and rises and rises. My plants have taught me the law of giving and receiving. The beauty of caring. Sharing is so important. Well-being is so sexy and appealing. ...more to come. ** Fía.
A Hindu saint who was visiting river Ganges
to take a bath found a group of family members on the banks, shouting in anger at
each other. He turned to his disciples, smiled and asked:
'Why do people shout in anger shout at each
other?'
Disciples thought for a while, one of them
said,'Because we lose our calm, we shout.'
'But, why should you shout when the other
person is just next to you? You can as well tell him what you have to say in a
soft manner.'asked the saint
Disciples gave some other answers but none
satisfied the other disciples.
Finally the saint explained, .
'When two people are angry at each other,
their hearts distance a lot. To cover that distance they must shout to be able
to hear each other. The angrier they are, the stronger they will have to shout
to hear each other to cover that great distance.
What happens when two people fall in love?
They don't shout at each other but talk softly, Because their hearts are very
close. The distance between them is either nonexistent or very small...'
The saint continued,'When they love each
other even more, what happens? They do not speak, only whisper'n they get even
closer to each other in their love. Finally they even need not whisper, they
only look at each other'n that's all. That is how close two people are when
they love each other.'
He looked at his disciples and said.
'So when you argue do not
let your hearts get distant, Do not say words that distance each other more, Or
else there will come a day when the distance is so great that you will not find
the path to return.” I came across this story weeks ago and something trembled inside me. Trembled out of comprehension. The necessity of us to raise our voice. Is it a call for connection? Is it a yearning of closeness? A loss of communication? Silence. Silencio. Silenzio. Stille. A universal call. A moment of pure understanding. An instance of listening, belonging, giving and receiving. Vulnerability shows its face. Do not fear. Simplicity salutes you. Welcome it. Peace is acknowledged. Surrender. You belong. I belong. We belong. I exist because you exist. We co-exist. Is this love that abounds me, you, it all? The blaze of love is bursting me. Is love this sweet and sour? A blade is cutting, a blade of grass is passing right through me. It cuts and heals. It makes my chest pound forward and up, back and down. There are waves to this silence. There are colors. There is movement to our hearts binding. There is flow. You belong. I belong. We belong. Silencio. fía.
