Thursday, September 5, 2019

Фукуле/Fukule. Let go.

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Control Issues: Fall of the Summer

     It's overwhelming. People's lives are much overflowing with every emotion & every possible event. I feel all of it, and it's too much. I yearn to be alone, by myself - the only time I open up. In that empty space I am free, and I can feel myself, be me. Yet, there's little hope for advancement in solitude. Eventually I'd have to go out and spy, interact, react and take in. Please, me, let's be like flowing water - transparent in all ways, not letting anything get stuck, just flow, flow... and learn.

Photo: stolen

Thursday, April 4, 2019

     He told me: "He printed a program for everyone. You have to realize, in those times not everyone could afford a rain umbrella, yet he always had a program for everyone who came to his concerts. How did he do it?!" Now that was some perspective. And a damn good question.

Photo: Ted Forbes

Tuesday, April 2, 2019

The unmentionables

      Just on a physical plane, we spend about 9 months being formed, then years growing, perfecting - stroke after stroke, layer after layer, inch by inch - and end up with a Human Body. A system so amazing, a lifetime isn't enough to appreciate it, to learn it, to discover all it can do. A self-healing organism able to overcome anything. So complicated and beautiful, our bodies take our breath away, we even want to own more than one sometimes. Then we start to disrespect it - we poison it with food and drink, substances, chemicals, negative thoughts and destructive ideas. This is mind-blowing. You, we have a body; that fact alone contains so much happiness. What a gift! open it. We're all going to leave it someday, enjoy it every day. Explore, experiment, love, take care.

Photo: Craig Tracy body art

Monday, April 1, 2019

Go talk to her

   I'm listening to myself talk. No, scratch that. I'm listening to a recording of my conversation with a channeler. And I think to myself - if I didn't know the person talking (myself), what would I think of her? I think I would like to meet her, she seems interesting. What is she like? - I wonder. What am I like? I don't know. You don't know yourself?! You can't be serious. Where's the curiosity? Where have you been - lived a whole life with yourself and don't even know... how strange... We're strangers.

Illustration: Genevieve Bormes

Wednesday, February 27, 2019

Space that doesn't curve

     Blue in Green has overwhelmed me today. Memories had rushed back, memories of amazing musicians whose talent I got to bask in. I would wrap myself in music almost every day of my life, for years, and visit hidden worlds. The gratitude I feel towards all who share their love for life through art of everything is ... indescribable, immense, Hokusai's Wave big. I remember love because of them - the kind that comes from between our lives. I better go listen now, before the song ends...


Tuesday, February 19, 2019

My Very Vegan Dreamy Dreams

     The recipe is simple, yet painfully unattainable. It's hard to find the ingredients, unless you live somewhere else. And the resources are excused out of existence. It is only a dream, barely worth writing for, a venting venture that weighs a ton.
     The upside-down recipe:
* blow away the smell of all cooking carcasses from the house forever;
* eliminate meat and alcohol from my children's holiday celebrations;
* surround myself with vegans and their families;
* avoid touching dead things at all cost.

     That's it! No preheating the oven or taking out a skillet; it's all raw & organic.

     Grace. 

Saturday, January 5, 2019

I'm crocheting hats for the stars,
hugging
wind with my hair,
tracing footprints in my thoughts - 
looking for that wrong turn,
searching for the right path.
stamping smiles on the waves of emotions.
Written on a guitar that was tuned as:
bottom string - маленькая серебряная овечка в космосе,
second string - empty hall, no audience,
third string - тёёёёплый шарф,
fourth string - melancholy,
fifth string - philosophical hot chocolate at midnight,
sixth string - a hip jazz musician.

Saturday, September 22, 2018

I have to day today

     I lay and gave in and it showed itself. My brain had calloused over in the past 6 years. Became rigid, static, encased. A piece of that shell came off on the Genesis and exposed the raw material inside: the boundless, the endless, the possible. I need to sit now and feel. While it's so very fresh, I want to apply all I am and create. More, always more, the ever-expanding life that I never wish to end.


Thursday, September 6, 2018

     Looking to ground a grater while grating chocolate, the process of which builds static electricity, sending chocolate shavings all over. Thoughts?


Monday, August 27, 2018

     Я помню ту безветренную ночь, когда я впервые услышала шорох свёртывающихся сухих листьев. И тот день, когда я увидела фракталы в облаках. А ещё был тот момент "аха!" когда я увидела линию на воде, в речке; что она разделяет? Однажды я разломила веточку тополя и нашла там звёздочку. Много чего могу назвать и показать. И ведь всё это пришло ко мне уже во взрослом возрасте! Вселенная безгранична, и человек тоже. Теперь я передаю свои "знания" дальше, детям. А может сохранить парочку на то время, когда они будут старше меня, чтобы не забывали волшебство?
photo credit goes to Melissa Walker



Saturday, August 11, 2018

Mission Impossible

     Ночь, бабочки и Млечный Путь; ветерок, созвездия и мерцающие корабли. Здравствуй, Вселенная. Вот скажи мне, почему мне так сложно любить? Или даже не любить, а выражать эту огромную любовь? ... А, точно! это моя жизненная миссия - любить, я это знала с самого начала, теперь помню. Поэтому мне попадаются такие люди, которых сложно, очень сложно любить - чтобы я научилась это делать. Но вот только давным-давно мама сказала, что не надо этого - а вдруг придёт какой-то толстый, лысый, вонючий, злой, и его тоже придётся любить. Конечно, она не о том говорила, но она была права. Мама, в общем, всегда права. Хотя я вот уже сама мама, и мне кажется что я не бываю права никогда. Это наверное потому, что начать любить нужно с себя.
     Хорошо с тобой, Вселенная, спасибо за горячий шоколад.


photo credit: Harriet Russell "Sixty Impossible Things Before Lunch"



Wednesday, June 6, 2018

Brain Emotions

     I take out a dress to put on, it's flowing silk with cotton paneling, it's a gift - sentimental value is woven into it. But out of the blue (or rather, red, it's a red dress) I ask myself - is silk cruelty-free and vegan? No, no it's not! I could, naturally, justify the industry and the process, just out of reasons of exploration, nothing else. There is, however, a stand from the environmentally-conscious point of view, and that is: upcycling, reusing, recycling the fabric. It's silk! - it's gorgeous, sensuous, strong and, if you're into that sort of thing, expensive. It's also art. So, being gifted unknowingly, buying second-hand, keeping out of the landfills - could one stand the use of silk within those terms, gilt-free?


Sunday, June 3, 2018

Hologram Me

     I feel like there are at least ten people living inside of me... Don't! don't label right away, wait. Reach for that spot where, when tickled, boredom turns into curiosity. It feels like ice cream to me, that process, pink in flavour. What a distraction.
     In simple images, when a situation is encountered it becomes a whole little world of its own - it's completely self-functioning and whole, yet nothing without a thinker who thinks it. Of course, one can argue that, but is there anything that can't be argued?
     So. I can't show you the whole situational world in just an interaction. I can't. It would take so long, that ice cream would melt. Instead, I have to pick and choose words and gestures and facial expressions to kinda-sorta relate the hell or ecstasy or beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep of that world. And the rest is simply lost. You see, we did degrade, as humans, with the use of the alphabet. Because we lost the art of communication. I know, that might not make sense on paper. For some.
     But my brain is sluggish. There's so much information out here, my anfractuosities and crinkles are getting over-worked. Because of that it takes some tick-tocking to express just the right thing in just the right manner. I've never taught myself that! I'm struggling. And finally it comes out, but bitchy and just plain wrong. People are confused. Half the stuff remains unspoken. Can I write you an e-mail instead? I swear, I'll follow the rules of writing in which an idea quietly and smoothly makes its way to you and doesn't jump or tear, fade or bite its own tail. Head. I'm saying "head" - I just flipped a coin, because I fidget while I talk.
     I just lied up there, in a sentence above. But it's almost unnoticed, because it's just words. There's no image that I can share mind-to-mind. If there were, you would catch that lie. I file and trim my nails, I don't fidget. I used to bite them, but now I use that time wisely.
     Now I can say it: if I were to explain it all - the whole situation at hand - one would think (or dare say) that I could think there are at least ten people living inside of me, or ten emotions, each with its own desired outcome. So don't pose "Can you just tell me what you want" on me. Or some other such thing.  Because I wish I could just hologram you, in all the senses.

photo credit unknown




   
     

Saturday, April 14, 2018

Love & Cigarettes

     It was such a perfect night, in the world's eye - dark sky sequenced with shiny dust and spirals, cozy set-up outside the front door, and sticky aroma of a two year-old cigarette in my hand. My head wrapped in a shawl and wearing layers of fabric to protect myself from the consequences, I tried it. Tried to smoke. It was a perfect set-up yet it failed. That's the humor of life unfolding. I was turned off by it all. And then the meticulous teeth brushing, and fast-fast hand scrubbing...
I killed the romance of the cigarette...