Tag Archives: poetry

Life’s a bitch and then you have an orgasm…

Do you ever complain about life? I do. Life can be a bitch sometimes. Seriously. And there are times when you despair. You’ve banged your head against the same wall for what seems like an eternity. Every door that opened got slammed in your face, or led to a dead end. Your thoughts start circling in a negative downspiral and life starts feeling like it sucks.

This year I decided to pull my head out of the gutter. However, there have been a few slamming doors this year too and after walking head first into a door rather recently I started despairing. I thought I’d be stuck in the same situation forever. And as one thing was tied to another, that was tied to another, that was tied to another, I felt trapped. Like I’d never find a way out. The kids I help raise are in Cape Town, so I need to get back. For that reason I can’t change jobs, can’t do this, can’t do that, am financially strapped…and I have felt very stuck for a very long time.

Have I felt like a victim and pitied myself? Oh you have no idea. Have I gotten angry and wanted to punch a number of government officials? Hell to the yes. Have I panicked and felt like the lousiest extra parent in the world and hated myself for it? Gosh, you have no idea what a terrible person I am and how much I can possibly hate myself. Have I awoken in a state of panic from dreams of the kids, screaming, hyper ventilating, or crying? Way too many times to count. Sometimes I’m scared of sleeping.

Have I wanted to give up? Yes. I’ve felt like there is no strenght left in me. Like I’ll never win this fight. Like there’s no joy left in life. Like there is no way out of this blooming visa-adoption-career nightmare.

This year I decided to choose art. Choose poetry. Choose magical moments. Choose to believe that what I can do for the kids is a blessing, not that what I can’t do is a curse. In general, do what I can to enjoy what I can. When a door closes a window opens. It is all about that window. About the moment. About what you can do.

Some times are harder than others. It’s inevitable…and sometimes we invite it by doing something utterly stupid. We need to forgive ourselves. Give ourselves the gift of allowing ourselves to enjoy the moment. Give that joy to others. And slowly change our life and that of those around us simply by growing flowers in the mud. As the story goes, I prefer satin and Egyptian cotton sheets, but there’s nothing saying you can’t have an orgasm on whatever you picked up at Ikea. And I’m talking about the sheets you pick up there, not the men. Should Ikea come up with an invention for “easy-to-put-together-Scandinavian-men” that included the perfect user manual maybe I’d consider it, but Scandinavian men are generally not my type. I prefer the more exotic version…

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Poem No. 69: Desire of Life. Writing poetry for Magique is one of the things that’s resurrected my spirits this year. Poetry, to me, is like growing flowers in the mud when you focus on the beauty of life. This poem was written today. More poetry can be found here

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Straight from my heart (i.e. my diary)…

Chili Fruits

Tonight I’d like to escape. I’d like to go far, far away from being me. Not all of me…just part of me. The part that doesn’t get it. The part that wants something it doesn’t understand. The part that aches for an answer, yet sees no answer in sight. The part that wants what it cannot have. Of course, the answer lies in the question, not in an escape into something else. Well, you know what? Whenever this question has been posed before, I’ve felt hopelessness. Like I’ll never figure it out. I’ll stick to work. Get lost in my projects. The tangible things. The things which bring me joy. And if I just do that, then I’ll be OK because I never have to touch the parts of my soul that are confused, or wounded. It’s been a balance between despair, or losing myself from it altogether by filling my life with work that I love. I refuse doing that anymore. I will just have to face it without despairing about it. Do something that makes me happy and think about it.

I wish I had some food at home. Then I would stand in the kitchen all night conducting crazy experiments and getting lost in something totally different. In smells, sights and thoughts that would clear my head. Sadly I don’t and I have to get up at like 5am tomorrow to have a decent chance of getting my work done. And buy a car. Very important. Then I can actually get some food up the hill. Maybe if I put chili in my tea tomorrow morning it will have the desired effect?

When we redecorate the house this weekend I will use that as a tool for inspiration. Creation always inspire. This time we are going Moroccan. Morocco inspires me too. Maybe I’ll get out my charcoal too and paint a portrait of someone, or just play with color. I need to play, that’s all I know. Play with a few of my favorite things. We are literally going to have to saw so much stuff and paint and be creative that any thought left nagging will get transformed, if nothing else just because I’m determined it will and I’m rather stubborn.

When feet touches moist sand, eyes open wide with wonder. Life sparkles. Sometimes life touches you. We are made of this stuff and we see it reflected around us. If we love the sunshine, I believe somewhere the sunshine is in us. Or maybe we are like the moonlight and attracted to our polar opposite? Then again, the moonlight is made of sunshine. We are all, by the end of the day sunshine. Sunshine that came alive.

Outside the city twinkle with light. I’m happy up here. I think I’ve found home.

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Lion, you?!?…

I know I have blogged about this before, yet it always comes back to me; stronger and stronger until one day I hope to master it myself.

There is a human being in front of you. She smiles. She says things. She makes you laugh. She’s a gift. She works in ways that make you wonder. She amazes you. She frightens you. She brings out something different in you. She annoys you. She agitates you. She tickles you. She makes you think of her when she is not there. She touches you. She has feelings for you. She feels you. She sees you. She listens to you. She alarms you. She awakens you. She makes you feel. She makes you experience things. She uplifts you. She believes in you.

There are no words to describe what people mean to you, each person being unique.

We may live for another second, or another hundred years. We may live every second being truly alive, giving each moment and each person our all, or we may live in fear. With inhibitions. With darkness. We may follow the light, or we may fear the shadows. We may charge into the world like lions, or like sheep.

We may live, or we may die.

We have all done things we regret – felt fear, anger, shame, hatred…but that’s the past, who you are now is just a body, free to do what you choose! You are a human. You have traits, but you also have choice. Sheep, or lion.

Today is your unique gift to a person and a person’s unique gift to you. Dare to live. Dare to give light to those that light you up. Dare to walk away from shadows. Dare to love. Dare to be true to whom you choose to be. Dare to learn. Dare to live within the moment, however horrid, or however frighteningly beautiful. Dare to face what’s there, whether you fear to keep it, or lose it. Dare to be the light you want to see in this world. Dare to feel what you feel. Dare to give the most precious gift of all: yourself.

So when my best friend dared me to “lock myself out” wearing my see-through Sonia Rykiel pajama to catch the attention of a certain six pack…I…I did what any lion would do…I said “I’m not interested in sheep…when a lion comes along on the other hand…”

Only you know where your heart truly wants to go and what it truly wants to say…

Nike said it: Just Do It!

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Filed under Courage, dreams, Gifts, Inspiration, Joy, Life, Love, Men, Motivation, People, Personal Development, poetry, relationships, Relationsip, Self-confidence, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Women

Night my dear, is a love affair…

Out here the night has released her curtain and let it sweep down from the skies – enveloping the world in a blue grayish daze. It is misty tonight. The lights reflect in the tiny drops, creating a hazy look. The stars won’t be seen tonight – only the lights across the sea, the sharp light in the lighthouse and the yellowish light from a single streetlamp. Otherwise, darkness. Well, maybe  just a tiny splash of moonlight – only there to let us see how dark it truly is.

At this hour poems tend to fly through my mind like lightning – it is as if my mind has been illuminated by stories, beauty, love…and nature. Nature when she is a mystery, because nothing can be seen, yet everything can be felt. As the rational day fades away, maybe we are forced to look inside? We seem to get lost in the dark alleys of the city and of the mind. We walk through the night in search of light, in search of love. We dance through the night. We talk to strangers at night – open our hearts and show what’s on the inside. Come the morning light we are once again razor sharp, pure, ready for challenges, but at night… At night we dream. We let ourselves loose. We walk into situations that in daylight would seem crazy, but at night we do not ask questions. We just let ourselves be swept off our feet. We dance along to her tune of mystery, allowing ourselves to reveal our deepest secrets, as we feel safe behind her blanket of nocturnal bliss. As if we were hidden.

Night time slows us down. You take time to do the things you would have never done in bright light. You gently sip your tea whilst leafing through a book. You have time, because what’s there to do at night, but wait for the new dawn? Even if you have a million things to do, you slow down. You adjust your pace to the night.

Dawn has always been my favorite hour – when the sky lights up in pastels, when the mind is clear, focused…when the energy of the new day awakens us, re-enlivens us and fills us with power. Adventure is lurking. People are getting ready for it, yet they do not know what they are getting ready for. Fresh scents fill the morning. Life hath, once again begun afresh.

For all my love of morning though, I cannot deny the magic of the night, or that of any hour. If you only take the time to breathe it in, each hour of the day is filled with magic. After morning there is midday – the sun a tad more yellow by now. Time for a break from duties. People talk. Laughter is shared. Food, too, is shared. Delicious foods. Every day you get to taste life. You are life and life becomes you.

Then comes the afternoon with her orangy light. The magical hour of photography, of sweet, romantic light. Everything soft. Warm. The fast pace of the day is slowing down and people ease up, relax in the glow of the afternoon sun.

In evening people are set free from their duties of the day. They feel the approaching darkness and huddle up together. Share stories from their journeys through the day. Heat up by the fire as cool winds come by. Reward themselves with meals, laughter, wine…

And then, there is night. Night of mystery and wonder. Night of dreams and secrets. Night of revelations and revealing truths. Night, when we see not the world, but ourselves and we wish to escape into the arms of someone else.

So now you know what I think like when twilight hits the world.

(Twilight is) the safest time of day for us. The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way… the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don’t you think? – From Twilight, by Stephanie Meyer

Dreams are illustrations…from the book your soul is writing about you.  – Marsha Norman

The stars are the street lights of eternity.  ~Author Unknown

Is there not
A tongue in every star that talks with man,
And wooes him to be wise? nor wooes in vain;
This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
~Anna Letitia Barbauld, A Summer Evening’s Meditation

By night, an atheist half believes in God.  ~Edward Young, Night Thoughts

Night, the beloved.  Night, when words fade and things come alive.  When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again.  When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.  ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The night sky is a miracle of infinitude.  ~Terri Guillemets

It seemed to be a necessary ritual that he should prepare himself for sleep by meditating under the solemnity of the night sky… a mysterious transaction between the infinity of the soul and the infinity of the universe.  ~Victor Hugo

Sensations

On the blue summer evenings, I shall go down the paths,
Getting pricked by the corn, crushing the short grass:
In a dream I shall feel its coolness on my feet.
I shall let the wind bathe my bare head.

I shall not speak, I shall think about nothing:
But endless love will mount in my soul;
And I shall travel far, very far, like a gipsy,
Through the countryside – as happy as if I were with a woman.

Arthur Rimbaud
March 1870.

Night time in Paris…the city of light…

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Filed under dreams, Joy, Life, poetry, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Writing

I found a song…

So I have been absolutely obsessed with Kings + Queens by 30 Seconds To Mars since I stumbled across it last week. This amazes me, because it was a loooong time since I found a new song that I like that much and it makes me quite happy, because someone out there managed to create something I love. Without that person/those people I wouldn’t have that experience. It’s rather beautiful, isn’t it?

When I hear a song I love, lyrics I like, when I see a performance I enjoy, a film I marvel at, when I read a poem I adore, a book I devour…when I feel that somehow someone is portraying life the way I see it, or they open my eyes to something I was looking for, then I long to talk to the person(s)…  I guess I’d like to get to know them because I believe they’d see me. Not just throw a glimpse in my direction, but truly see me. Understand me. I think that’s what we all long for, isn’t it? To be truly understood. And maybe also to understand.

I’ve always been the odd one out. For a while I tried dying my hair red to prove it, but I came to the conclusion I was just as bad as someone always wearing label clothes – I was trying to distinguish myself. Show that I did not belong to a certain group of people and that I belonged to another (the misfits, rebels, crazy ones, bohemians, what have you). I also came to realize that even the ones that were so different from me, in the ground and bottom (as we say in Sweden) are just the same. We are people.

We were born into this life as human beings you and me. We were, if you so like, an empty slate, or a piece of clay. Then life formed us. Some grew up to certain beliefs, others to other beliefs. It’s almost like we were an empty bowl and then life got poured into us. Our bowl keeps getting filled up as we age. The more filled up we get with ideas and concepts, the blinder we get. We judge instead of look. Not consciously so much as unconsciously (anyone read Blink by Malcolm Gladwell, or just about anything by a good mentalist?). We see someone and we like them, or dislike them. We like a piece of clothing, a place, a thing, or we don’t like it. Most of us don’t really stop and ask ourselves why – we  just judge. Depending on which side of the border we were born, we are fighting a different war.

As a kid I used to feel sad because I felt hollow. I kept thinking: “all I am are my actions and I can choose how to act, so all I am is nothing.” This used to upset me, but now it quiet excites me, because at least potentially I have a choice – potentially I can choose what I want to have in my bowl. Maybe there are certain attributes I was born with. Maybe it’s in my genes to paint and dance and write and make movies and run businesses…I really don’t know, but at least most of the bowl was empty.

So about the choice of what to pour in one’s bowl… Maybe the mind can move mountains, I don’t yet know. I don’t know if we can choose to be whom we want to be, if we all get the “epiphany” at some point that we can take charge and mould ourselves into whatever takes our fancy (refill our bowls or empty them, what have you). Or if our own “moulding” is still a result of our experiences up until then (i.e. we decide to change/take charge only because an event occurred that gave us this idea). And even if we decide to take charge I don’t know if we can be truly in charge, because I don’t know if I, or my influences, are stronger. All around us we have this vast amount of influences: other people, the media, nature, the planets/stars, food, politics…not to mention every friggin event that ever happened to us as a child. I keep wondering if we can step out of all of that and just be? Be human?

You can make a man forget his whole life, yet he is still a man.

We fall in love with personalities. With peoples’ beliefs. Yet, by the end of the day, we go back to being energy. Wouldn’t it be nice for once to just be? Be instead of being something or someone?

We put so much energy into our goals and dreams, yet we do not know where they are taking us. We just know that our bowl got filled with some ideas when were kids and we are told that we should follow them. We fall in love and we feel stupid for falling out of love. We feel stupid, because our minds were closed when we went into it. We weren’t exploring, we were hoping. We did not see, we only saw what we wanted to see. And we stated how good we were for going there. How great our new adventure, business, partner, idea felt. We did not just say we were exploring something. We made a statement. About happiness. About being a good person. About achievement. About who we are because of it. And when things changed, we felt bad. We felt stupid. Yet all we were doing was to learn. It’s only we were brought up to believe we have come to find happiness and love and success…and if we fail, heaven help us – we are bad.

The enlightened have often said that life changes. The best we can do is keep up with our own reactions. See what they are, how we would like them to be. Fuel ourselves with love to grow into always having the reactions we like. Because life will happen and the only thing you can potentially control, is your own reactions to it.

It’s funny. I used to fight for change. I used to get so angry when I reacted to life in unfavorable ways. Now I accept. I accept that in that moment, for whatever reason, I feel hindered in doing what I would like to do. React how I would like to react. I accept it. And by accepting it, instead of fighting it, I let go of it. And in that moment there is movement. The acceptance allows the cemented behavior to soften up and allowing me to react differently. I guess the content of my bowl is no longer in charge of the bowl. I can just be. Be human.

So about that song…maybe I like it because something in Leto’s bowl represents something in mine…who knows? I might not have an as empty bowl as I would like, but I think he’s right in that “we were the Kings and Queens of promise…” In fact, I believe we still are. We have so much potential. We have built cities, airplanes, rockets… Maybe right now the world is in a place that’s not so cool. Our bowl has been filled with a fair amount of pollution, negativity, greed and corruption. Yet, compared to 1943, I think we are doing pretty damn well. And I hope that we can all see each other for what we are – bowls filled with experience…I mean humans…

The song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMX3qv1N37s

How we are affected by life: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZyQjr1YL0zg

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