Tag: Diary

On Names

Because a name may by itself be a prayer.

Because its sound can express an entire universe and letting it go from our lips can be life

What is there in a name?
In the end, in it there is all that we charge it with
So, for me, yesterday night, it was “Her name”.
It was closing the eyes and whispering it.

A “name” can be many things to us.
A name can be life, breath,
a name can be terror,
a name can be music,
a name can be tears,
a name can be …

The name will never truly be what we FORCE it to be, it will just be what it represent within us, for us.
What we feel it is.

It can be everything but at the same time we cannot make it to be everything.

In the end
every day, every night
if we close the eyes to “feel”
and chant “the name”,
then it will respond
it will speak its nature to us.

Last night I stopped the book I was reading.
I whispered those syllables.
I listened to what they filled me with
and they spoke.
In my bed I whispered.
I listened to it all
till exhaustion killed the shouts
till staying down killed the shouts
I got flooded with it all
I got cuddled with it all

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On Silence.

Because silence speaks loud only for those having something to say.

Silence: it is venerated the silence, revered, worshipped. Much has been written about silence, poems have been composed, quotes about it can be found through all the human eras. Truths about all aspects of silence have been expressed, underlying the virtues of silence, the force of silence, the “voice” of silence. You can read phrases telling how a silence could scream louder than one thousand words, and more …
Oooh i know all this, I understand all these things, I have them running in my veins, I chew them, I breath them, I feel them, I taste them, I even could make use of them.

I know how a silence from me could transmit the weight of my heart, or eventually how silence could be used as a blade, or rather to heal and express the strongest nearness of soul. I know how my silence could bring me close to someone living within myself or bring me to someone can be reached only through it: “silence”.
I know how a silence can calm me, soothe me, or remove the useless trappings from my life, built over simple values. I know how silence connects me to what is the really essential, the core. Of all this I am aware.

I natheless know more. I know this.

Without its nemesis, “communication”, silence would lose all its strength.

I know that if my soul would not speak and I would not say all I say, then silences would never have the power they are and I know that their power increase at par with the depth of what is said.
I know that for silence to be powerful we must be able to face and stare into each other’s eyes and tear our heart out of our mouth. THEN being silent will be the powerful weapon it can be. This is one more reason to never let things unspoken. Never avoid doing it for bad and good things for the hurtful and also for those little beautiful things which are the daisies in the field of life. Those must be spoked too, so that their absence will become as powerful as they deserve. All this needs chanted and not silenced. This do give meaning to silence. I know that we should praise both silence and its nemesis, this I know. Without it the silence will “stop speaking”. Without it, staring into each other’s eyes will be just “optics”, and not that power exchange that it has to be.

For my silences to speak they do need my words
For our words to weight they need our silences

For my silence to speak they need our words
For words to weight they need our silence

The yin and the yang.
Balancing.
Completing.

As for me and silence: never fear for me when I do speak.
Never fear me being lost when drops of my heart do rain, pouring like crazy, exploding in blasts of flames from a dark furious sky.
Fear rather if this would not happen, fear my silence, as I was not done for it.
I do know silence and I do respect it, I worship it and under the strength of his spell I had already been a captive.

Silence must be watered
with all the love that its noisy nemesis is capable of,
if not it will be just “void”.

As for me. I deeply believe that what should be feared it is THAT type of silence, because that silence would make all the other silences, powerless.

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Outside/Inside & Expressing Ourselves

Wanderings of my mind while reading Jose Saramango during a commute.

I do speak,
I do speak my heart, I do speak my thoughts, I do speak my emotions, I do speak my dreams. Sometimes i do that in words, however we are not just words so I do speak and witness how I am through my actions, my smiles, my simple movements.
Don’t we all do that?
Aren’t we all mirrored in the things we do and say and all of them describing and painting what we truly are?

Besides all this I do stay silent too though. When doing that I do “listen” to myself. In the end I do try watching within much more than people think. Honestly, expressing my thoughts is for me another way of listening to myself. As I do write these lines I am learning about myself.
on’t we all work like that, after all?

It is when I listen to myself that my deepest thoughts get to life and blossom. It happens when I walk, when I see the smile of a child, the kiss of a lover, a man adjusting his hat, listening the absurd things people say, or having sun beams hitting my crazy self.

I love to smile, to giggle, the laughters, the beautiful simple things, the stories that speaks to my heart kidnapping my attention. I love what makes my soul vibrate. I get magnetically attracted by the things emoting me and those teaching me something, those makes me struggle to make time. So, I do that, and then I come back to my routines feeling richer, and more capable to give.
Often feeling an urge, the urge to witness what I felt and to share what my soul has distilled as beautiful and (to my soul) worth.

It is beautiful to shiver, it means we are alive.

Kitty

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I paint

“I paint flowers, so they will not die”.


Those are words by “Frida Kahlo”. I love her works. She was such a WOMAN, an example, a force of nature, an example of dedication, passion, fire, believing in pursuing your ideas and dreams, and more than that.

I do paint too, I do paint with words, I do paint with how I live, I think the whole of us do paint. I do not have the skills to create beautiful paintings in the normal sense. Yet I feel I do paint too, everyone of us do it. We do paint with every action we take, every breath we take. Every word we say is a brushstroke. Then, in my case I do happen to paint … with words, as I am doing now. Maybe it is an act of exhibitionism, or maybe a need, or maybe none of the above, but is it important? Life, living and breathing it, that is the important thing, in the end.

With words I do paint my love, its sacred lust too. I do paint the holy power of sensuality, its delicacies and its fury. I do paint my dreams and my fears, my hopes and my disappointment, my rage and the tearing tenderness that needs expressed even when I’d wish it caged and hate it to exist.

I do not paint all this because to preserve it from death, I do not fear that. Nothing of this will ever die, it will all survive, in me survives the heritage of all the people who touched my life, making me who I am, so I think all of the amazing, exploding, screaming feelings and sensations I got in me, they will survive, whether I paint them or not. But I do.

Then why do I paint them ?
Why do we paint them ?
Is it because I think I am able ?
Is it because I think I am particularly good ?
Is it ego ?
Why do some people paint openly, while others do it within?

I do not know. The truth is: I humbly and stupidly do not know.

I know I cannot go without doing it, though.
I know my brushstrokes are sometimes naif, primitive. I know they are irregular, sometimes incomprehensible, imprecise. I know sometimes they cut like blades, other times they are caresses, They can be luminous, dark, dim and way too often I do feel them not be enough to depict what I feel.
This is all I know.

I do not paint because otherwise these flowers will die.
They will not.
I do paint because doing that is part of me.

Deeply felt.
Kitty

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April 16th – Diary

What will the night bring?
Drops of April rain leave their trail on the window in front of me as I do write my lines. Many thoughts populate my mind. I leave them there for now and turn to watching again at the droplets following their fate down the glass.
Twisty trails.
More rain hit the glass, more water landing, sliding, hesitating, stopping and there accumulating, pushed by the crowd of droplets following the opened trail. The run can now continue. They hurry now, till the next stop, then all over again, like a metaphor of life, a perfect metaphor of our frantic life, made of runs and stops.

In every little drop lies an entire universe.

After all,
maybe we are nothing more than drops,
and someone is watching us sliding down a glass.


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Silently

There are those days when, tired, after a long day, I do come back home, to o/Our rooms, o/Our Home, we all do that.

If it is late and She is there, or our schedules do not match, often it happens that do find Her busy in Her own things, or sometimes I find Her sleeping. When it happens I may end up having tears in my eyes. Well, I am like that. I don’t know what it is, maybe it is a combination of things, that sacred silence, the sound of Her breath, the little movements, and then silent power of awareness. The awareness that She exists.

It happens that She may sleep while I work, and vice-versa. I love that, I own that moments as treasures, I feel Her mind body totally purely busy in being all She is, She is there, here, and everywhere. None of us is doing anything at all related to what we share, and still I feel Her as much as someone can feel. She has me, in those moments, and She is happy to to have me, and hold me, and me, my Adored, I am in awe to have You.

Have me, hold me, own my love.

Then, i undress, I get under the sheets, by Her, close to Her, with Her and my world is perfect. Silently perfect

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