Tag: MySoul

♡ 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕎𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 ♡

“Strong women do this, strong women do that, a strong woman don’t, a strong woman do …”.

All over the places we are told how a strong woman is the one who doesn’t beg, doesn’t ask, doesn’t stay where she’s not explicitly wanted and requested to please be. Or other things like this and that.

We are told how a strong woman should pretend to be this or that, how she should turn her shoulders in case this is not happening. Oh, no, I do not literally agree to that. It leaves out so much. A strong woman is simply herself, that is the truth.
A strong woman is the one who doesn’t care about being a strong woman, THAT is the truth. A strong person is the one who is herself, that is being strong, that is respecting ourselves and the others.

I am strong when I beg and I am silent, as much as when I demand to be listened. Not one bit less.

Am I not strong when I stay somewhere, even knowing that me giving my time and dedication is not requested and eventually will get to nowhere if not into a gift that may be used or not?

Isn’t that a true sign of how strong and self confident I am?
Isn’t a woman strong when she allows herself to hope for the impossible When she believes in dreams and pursue them, with focus and dedication?
Isn’t she the strongest being when that will make her fall and then she rises again to dream again and again?

How is it that society has pushed us to be slaves to a completely utilitarian way of thinking?
How is it that more and more it is “do ut des” and aligning to a way of thinking and behaving that determines and create a categorisation between who is “strong” and who is “weak”.
To drive people into seeing as stronger the one who “takes” as compared to the one who “gives” is wrong. And how is it that we allow these cages and false boundaries to decide what we are worth to achieve?

Such way of thinking is blind, superficial, it leaves out the core of of self affirmation, it does not recognise the strength of hearts in its entirety, cutting out half of it.

Take this writing, for example. Maybe this has no meaning to exist, maybe it will be read by none, or legions, so what? It can be considered small shitty collection of thoughts by a little woman, “weak maybe” because it has no reason to exist and will lead to nothing.

Well, the fact is: I am ME, and I do it anyway and the fact that maybe a part of me even hopes that someone smiles and feel motivated thinking alike makes me feel ok, it makes me feel everything but not a weakie. Take this writing, I write it because I feel like writing it, because I believe in these things, and if no one ever read it but it still stays written, well, that is one more reason why I am strong, or why I am “me”, while being a simple “dreamergirl” at the same time.

Strong women are the ones that stay, IF they WANT, till they want, and then go. They might stay till they get close to breaking, if they want, or till they feel it is enough, or not a minute. They can stay and then maybe regret they stayed too long, but proud they did their best.

Strong women don’t beg? Wrong.
They beg too, IF they WISH, if they find it worth.
They do it because they are strong, and their begging is a gift. Strong woman are the ones who are themselves, full stop.
Dominant, submissive, begging, staying, going, whatever. They are any way they want and feel. Respectfully, with awareness, and heart. Most of all, strong women do not give a damn about being categorised as strong women.

I Stay, I beg, I speak, I write, I affirm, I make mistakes, I face them, I don’t escape, I smile, I kneel, I love, I laugh, and more.

More than anything else, I am me.

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Wholeness

She stood there. It was one of those moment of blessed loneliness.
A light from above, behind her, projected her shadow in front of her, on the ground. In the silence of the evening, she stopped, facing that challening silhouette. It was the dark image of her, right in front of her, confronting her.

“Without shadow there’s no light”.
“We always are tempted to think the other way round, of darkness as a negation of light, but the truth is: it works both ways”
That was her first thought.

“Maybe without darkness there is also no love”.
She stood there, looking downwards at the dark her.

“How much of me does she holds?”
Then, looking closer, she realised something else. Dark and luminous shared the same origin. Dark melted with shiny. At the very root, she was connected to her dark image.

“I am both. Without you, I’d be lost”
“Wherever I go, I bring You with me”

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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.

0

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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