I just took that long-desired afternoon nap. To rest my head, to rest my soul, to rest my aching and disintegrating ovaries (yeah, my friend finally decided to visit me yesterday in case you were wondering which I am sure you didn’t).
I like and hate afternoon naps at the same time.
They put me in a strange blurry dreamlike state where I feel like floating just above the ground of sharp “real” things and can vaguely distinguish and impact them, though never very precisely. They escape my hands for a few centimeters, or slip through my fingers or I extend my arm to reach ‘em, but just when I do it, I realize that my arm would never be long enough to actually grab them, which makes me frustrated and annoyed.
Sometimes, though, it happens to me, during my infrequent afternoon naps, that I go for some more serious journeys. Not those “earth in sight”, floating in the atmosphere domain neither-here-nor-there trips for cowards and pussies that I just described. Real journeys. Viagens.
When some strange and powerful force skyrockets me (don’t know whether that’s actually an expression but I like how it sounds, so fuck off grammar nazis, I don’t give a shit about your rules and regulations) out of this solar system, out of every known galaxy in our asleep or awake world. And the journey is the most undescribable one ever, the conjunction of the ultimate excitement and the deepest peace, the meeting point of stagnation and rapid movement, the softest form of glittery white foam spread over the fresh pinkish sea that smells of roses and lavender.
And when I come back from the journey, my soul is so refreshed, my body reinvigorated, my cells pulsing with pink glittery energy and my eyes shining with the glow that is not of this world.
That’s how being aligned and connected feels like, I believe. Those are the moments and experiences that put a soft smile of admiration and gratitude on my face, that fill me up with love and surrender and sometimes even (but, hey, this is just between two of us!) bring up some tear to my eyes because I know there’s only one thing that is,
only one thing that was
and only one thing that will ever be.
Stay aligned, friends.
I am a firm believer in self-expression, in our innate need and responsibility to create and put out there the very thing we’re made of in whichever form suits us the best. We are the creation in its essence and cannot do other than continue to create: it’s what feels right, it’s what allows us to expand over the boundaries of our physical form and it is the way we can serve others and inspire and potentialize their own expansion.
Sometimes, though, I wonder...
I wonder mostly about the serving part. There’s so much noise. So many words I want to get through, so many songs I want to absorb, so much content that floods over me, whether I look for it or not. It is just there. And sometimes it gets overwhelming, I get so saturated and all I crave is blank space and some silence.
In search for inspiration from others’ work more often than not we get blocked, discouraged and simply exhausted. Our creative juices cannot flow through all that mess we stuffed ourselves up with... Then we need to take a step back, unplug, retreat. In those moments my instant reaction is resistance, unwillingness to add up to the noise, ‘cause there’s already so much up there, I don’t want to give my contribution to it, it doesn’t serve anyone...
But deeply inside of me I know it does. It serves me. It makes me feel alive, it connects me to the greater power within me and within you and makes me forget the time the place myself and everything else.... there’s just pure Creative Flow. And what’s more magical and meaningful than that?
Even if it doesn’t serve anyone directly, it does. It makes you become a better, more aligned version of you, it raises your frequency, it puts you in the state of openness and surrender so you can be a loving and serving presence to Others not only through your craft, but on daily basis, in everyday circumstances and situations.
Practice your art, do your craft, scribble in that journal, sing your lungs out while running in the rain, make useless and pretty things... whatever it is, you know your thing.
And as useless as it may seem it is the most useful thing on this planet because when out of the alignment we are of no use both to ourselves and to others.
Lots of love,
my hands are cold
so i soak them into yours
feeling the calm
all over my body
filling it up
till the last cell
into the places
the very beginning
of the days
you stumbled upon me by accident. at least that’s what you said. i responded randomly.
and 4a.m. messages.
hard to get
“your english is shitty. i don’t understand you.”
(no words are needed)
(no words were ever needed)
harmony of fingers
against the nightsky background
“i think i never felt that safe”
“i think i never felt this way”
we are lame, baby,
it was just cuddling.
Look up, little girl
uncover your eyes
(yes, you can)
monsters are gone
there are flowers all around
blooming and blossoming
to introduce themselves to you
Look up, pretty
uncover you ears
(yes, you can)
screams are long gone
to soothe your
Look up, precious
(yes, you can)
put down those walls
but take your time
brick by brick
don’t be ashamed
by the tears that come out
when the rays of light
your fragile eyes
unused to its warmth
Look up, honey
and don't put
show up trying
to catch your eye
they are no longer real
they are no longer alive
only if you want them to be
I grew up in the family where suppressing and ignoring was well-known and accepted pattern of behaviour transmitted through generations. As if not putting it out, not giving it a palpable form would make it less real or even inexistent.
I tried very hard to follow their ways, believing that “that’s how you gotta live”, put on your best mask, pretend everything is perfect, make them jealous and if you really really come to the edge, wait till getting home, lock yourself in the bathroom and cry there, out of the sight, so no one could see you and, god forbid, discover that, after all, you’re human as well and not as strong and untouchable as you made them think you were.
And, in case someone notices you just had an emotional meltdown, blame it on PMS as it’s less shameful to put it down on biology and our imperfect bodies than admit that you have emotions and that sometimes they need to come out, or in other words - that you are a pussy.
I had many deep-rooted beliefs about emotions and expressing the same. Always throughout my life labeled as overly sensitive, I got into the belief that it was true and went on with my days feeling really ashamed of that trait. Don’t know if it was true or not and nowadays, actually, I don’t believe in putting anyone in such sharp-shaped boxes as we’re such fluid and ever-expending beings. However, I think most of what seemed/seems as the hyper-sensitivity in myself was a continuous cycle of suppression, ignoring, faking being that strong bitch that doesn’t care about anything or anyone and then falling into the other extreme when there’s simply no more space under the carpet to stuff down all the shit I didn’t/don’t want to deal with and exploding, crying, screaming, having panic attacks, suicidal thoughts, desires to isolate myself from everyone etc.
I heard it and you surely did as well, how giving a voice to our darkness, being it in auditive, visual or some other form, allows us to alleviate its burden, put it in perspective and better yet, if we involve some other human consciousness to assist the release, it can make us more alone in our pain, it can open up that crack in the wall to finally let some rays of light in.
But, man, it’s hard.
I’ve been working on my vulnerability and opening up about shit I went through mostly with my therapist, but there were still parts inside of me, covered with thick layer of shame and self-deprecation that I couldn’t manage to get out. Not to talk about my friends and people that surround me on the daily basis. As much as I adore them, there are boundaries, there are limits that we (or maybe it’s just my case) are not willing to cross in fear of losing them, or maybe even worse, having them change their opinion about us and start acting in different way. No one loves being pitied.
The big release I needed more than I could have ever guessed happened this summer when I got away from my “normal environment” and went to volunteer on Yoga and Meditation Center in a village in Algarve, Portugal.
Waking up early to hop right away on a yoga mat for a morning session, days filled up with pretty physically-demanding tasks made even more so under the 40 degrees and constant burning sun and 1-hour-long active group meditations in the evening had their effect on me.
And people. People everywhere and constantly around me. At the beginning I thought I would go crazy. I am not used to have a company 24/7 and I craved my periods of solitude.
As much as I hated it in the very beginning - oh, man, it was exactly what I needed!
I cracked up first time while painting the driveway and chatting with Luke. The topic was banal but the tears that came up weren’t some fresh thing, they were coming up from some deep deep dark place, abandoned long time ago and avoided for all these years.
Even if I try, I can’t count how many times I cried on the Quinta - it surprised me as well. What surprised me even more, or maybe not, is how much I opened up, how much shit I just laid down in front of people I knew for no more than couple of weeks or so and they responded with such a loving presence, giving me the space to release and start healing. I am immensely thankful to all of them and I guess I needed the situation I got myself into, with people that I most likely won’t see again and therefore I was less concerned about them judging or blaming me for being who I am and who I was.
I love them all and I learned so many valuable lessons from each one of them in their own unique way. Even though back in normal, cold, emotionless world once again, I am trying to keep a scent of that openness, liberation and magic remain in my day-to-day life... and remember that voicing it and letting others in really makes a big difference on our path to healing.
Thank you Julie, Luke, Sebastiaan, Fabio, Claudio, Chris, Merilin, Kristóf and others for making this summer such a big learning and transformational experience <3
Love ya all, bitchezz
There are lots of reasons why I like to be a woman and there’s just one reason why I hate it.
We never got on well.
Ever since I first met her, somewhere around the age 12, there was always tension and mutual hatred between us.
I remember it was February when I first got the opportunity to actually meet her in person, beforehand I just heard vague and less vague stories about her and didn’t lose much of my time and brain energy pondering upon it.
But then she came - sneaky bitch couldn’t choose the better moment than right after I dressed up myself for the Masquerade party I was really excited about.
I told her hello, we met, I gave her what she usually needs and went to the party, leaving the bonding part for the afterwards, when I get back home.
I just wanted to enjoy the time with my friends that day, but she has different plans for me, getting into the car and joining us at the party. Not just that, my attention was scattered as she was constantly pulling me for the sleeve, not a minute letting me forget about her presence.
That’s how our relationship started.
And it never got much better. It oscilated, we had better and worse days, but there was always that underlying layer of hatred betwwen us, even in those periods when both of us were trying to at least be “correct” to each other.
But the bitch is crazy - even more unstable than me, I’d dare to say. Once she went away for 10 whole months, without notice, without obvious reason - just like that. I didn’t care that much but my mother noticed and was sure I did something wrong, not realizing that she’s the “bad guy” in this story.
This hot’n’cold game still goes on and right now I’ve been getting her notices about arriving almost every day but she’s not here yet. Always late or early and just when I get used to that way of hers - she decides to come on time and catches me up completely unprepared.
I am tired of games, honey. I am tired of resisting you.
But I know we’re both too proud to give up and restart on friendly terms.
Hope the next time I’ll come up in male form.
Do you know those days when you wake up feeling like complete shit with no apparent reason and it just gets worse and worse as the day advances?
When it seems that sadness crept in while you were sleeping and covered you with its veil filling you up with tears that you don’t allow yourself to let out because you are afraid. You are afraid that once you start crying you won’t ever be able to stop. You are afraid that you will drawn in that bitter liquid full of withered pains, aches and disappointments.
But most of all, you are afraid that it will initiate the vicious cycle again, and the memories of crawling out of it are still too fresh and vivid that you have no desire at all to go through the process one more time.
wasn’t it enough?
i am tired
leave me alone
go find some other place
to spread your poisonous fumes
i’ve had it enough
and i decided
to give a shot at living
so please go
and leave the window open
so i can get to breathe
It’s one of those days, guys. Well, it’s kind of over, luckily, but it was hard, I have to be honest. Even breathing required too much energy and effort. I tried to ignore it, change my energy with known tools, but today the fog just got too deep into me that I couldn’t spit it out.
I know I still have so much to release. I know that there’s no quick fix and that I don’t even need a fix, I am not broken, only holding onto some pain, identifying myself with it, struggling to let it go as it has been for me for such a long time already that I kind of identifying with it.
But fuck it.
As much as they helped me at the time, antidepressants illude you a bit. It’s like putting a perfume on the smelly and sweaty body after the workout. Perfumes are good. They smell nice. But what when you get adapted and don’t notice the smell anymore?
I am grateful for this day, however. I discovered how much judgement towards myself I am still holding onto. Bursting into tears when pressure peaked, I isolated myself today, ashamed, angry, disgusted with my sadness and pain. “Are you fucking idiot? You’ve been working so hard to be at ease, to be happy, to make the life livable and the air breathable.” Voices full of hatred and self-pity echoing in my ears as someone on the other side of the door was trying to get in, give me a hand and help me by taking on some of the burden I was carrying. Resistant at the beginning, I gave in. And I'm happy I did. At the end, nobody can judge me as much as I judge myself. There is so much shame coming along with depression and I am even a bit ashamed of writing this, of being pathetic and sad and... whatnot. But fuck it.
I will write it and maybe it will give a slight sense of relief to someone passing through the same range of emotions... maybe it will make them feel little less alone and weird.
I believe tomorrow I will feel better, but days like this may (and probably will) come again every now and then and instead of suffering the double amount, I promise myself I’ll make the effort not to judge myself for it, but give opportunity for people who love me to reach out to be and alleviate the heaviness with the warmth of their hearts. (I am lame and corny, I know.)
Good night and até amanhã.