A flute of reed

Sometimes it looks to me like everything important in my life happens only after I lose all my hopes.

Why?

Do hopes drive back the things I want?

Or I shouldn’t have desires as Buddhists say.

Or I should only be humble and let God rule my life.

Still I should have dreams I guess – yet, namely, the dreams come true … when I lose all hopes.

Sometimes I am so …. full of passion

about something, so that I can’t talk, can’t write …

If I was able to express what I feel

I would express is, burst it out,

but I can’t.

Before I used to try to calm down by

doing something, or reading something.

Shouldn’t I try now to express it somehow?

I was feeling terrible the last few days.

I was feeling sad and lonely and longing for ..... something.

I friend of mine found out about this and called me this morning to ask me how I feel.

Suddenly I realised I feel good, really good .... because I was angry.

I was REALLY angry to both men in my life and anger made me feel calm and even a bit indifferent .... which was wonderful.

For the first time in my life I was happy to be angry!

I even wish to tell them both .... the F word.

I hate to make choices.

Some people say that everything is a matter of choice. I don't understand that.

As somebody said: “If you are in doubt don’t do it.”

I must always get to a point of no return.

To a point in which there is no choice – there is only one way … or I will die.

I don’t know if that’s the best way to live your life, but I can’t do anything else.

Not that I haven’t tried something different. I tried and I failed.

Sometimes is a bit difficult to take even the only way you have and you just stay as a donkey on a bridge, but …. you can’t stay there till the end of the world.

I think that when you need to make big decisions your heart and your brain should work in harmony. Only then there should be no hesitation.

If there is a hesitation there is no way to be sure you will make the right choice. (not that ultimately there are wrong choices, but …)

If you are in hesitation is more likely for you to listen to the brain, not the soul and that would be wrong.

I don’t think much. I try to feel. And if I feel I can’t do something I don’t do it and the opposite.

Still I don’t know if that’s the way everyone should act, but that’s my way … at least until now.

There is one big advantage. I never regret. There is no way for me to think that I took wrong decision. Because I always take the only one decision I can take at the moment.

An Almost Made Up Poem

I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny
blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny
they are small, and the fountain is in France
where you wrote me that last letter and
I answered and never heard from you again.
you used to write insane poems about
ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper case, and you
knew famous artists and most of them
were your lovers, and I wrote back, it’ all right,
go ahead, enter their lives, I’ not jealous
because we’ never met. we got close once in
New Orleans, one half block, but never met, never
touched. so you went with the famous and wrote
about the famous, and, of course, what you found out
is that the famous are worried about
their fame –– not the beautiful young girl in bed
with them, who gives them that, and then awakens
in the morning to write upper case poems about
ANGELS AND GOD. we know God is dead, they’ told
us, but listening to you I wasn’ sure. maybe
it was the upper case. you were one of the
best female poets and I told the publishers,
editors, “ her, print her, she’ mad but she’
magic. there’ no lie in her fire.” I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of. I would have
loved you more if I had sat in a small room rolling a
cigarette and listened to you piss in the bathroom,
but that didn’ happen. your letters got sadder.
your lovers betrayed you. kid, I wrote back, all
lovers betray. it didn’ help. you said
you had a crying bench and it was by a bridge and
the bridge was over a river and you sat on the crying
bench every night and wept for the lovers who had
hurt and forgotten you. I wrote back but never
heard again. a friend wrote me of your suicide
3 or 4 months after it happened. if I had met you
I would probably have been unfair to you or you
to me. it was best like this.

Charles Bukowski

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-almost-made-up-poem/

It is strange when someone loves you. It is scary and you want to run away. For the moment I do run away, but I am always back. Love attracts me tremendously. Then I don’t know what to do in order to show, to confirm my feelings. It is like if I stay next to a veil made of the lightest silk and I don’t dare touching it with my rough fingers as I will tear it apart and hurt it. I feel uncouth. The substance I am made of is too … hard and it is not created for … love. It is created for other things – for fleshy pleasures, for reproduction, for work …. love is from another world. In order to reach it I must weave a veil from my body. And only using my veil I can touch the other one. This veil is the quintessence of the best in me. It is the butter churned from the milk, it is Amrita in the Hinduism. May be they don’t use this image accidentally, or … I don’t use it accidentally influenced by them. Amrita – God’s nectar of immortality.

The question is how to churn the milk … how to extract the best in me and weave the veil ….

Or I imagine it as thin tentacles coming out of my heart and reaching shyly the other one …. carrying a word, a smile or a tear … Tentacles are not talkative … they touch gently and just for a moment … and they run away, because the sensation is so strong that they feel they will be burnt ….. by the other’s tentacles ….

I apologize for my veil-octopus images, but … that’s how I feel the things now ….

Is there any sense in talking?

A man knows something only by experience, not by somebody telling him so.

So, nobody can tell you anything.

So, talking is just for fun.

Just to waste some time, or just to enjoy the company of somebody.

And when somebody knows you, and he/she knows you only because he/she loves you, there is not much sense in talking ….. it is needed only to confirm your love and ….. again just for fun.

That’s what I think now ….

"Fun created fun just for fun"

Someone could say God created this world just for fun ...

Back at work.

It was nice to stay at the sea, but at the last day even my daughter said she wants to go back home.

I can’t say how I felt and what I thought.

I tried not to think at all and only read. As My Friend says – it was an INPUT time.

The worse thing was that I felt neither happy, nor totally unhappy. I was like in no time, no place and I was nobody. Nothing happened.

The last few days I was with my husband and some friends and even with them I felt in no time, no place, I was nobody and nothing happened.

Sometimes it looks like something happens … for the others ….. but if nothing happens in your heart, does it means that something happened?

It's time to have a proper Holiday at the sea.

I can't stand my daughter's moaning about that.

So, see you in about 10 days

My problems in the town I live have always been the people coldbloodness.
My mother is from the South part of the country and people there are much different from the people here. It is like if you take a person from the hottest place on earth and place him to live in the coldest place on Earth. I am exaggerating a bit, but that’s how I feel it sometimes. Or that’s how I have been feeling it when I was young.
The town I live is in the mountains and naturally people here are cold and closed. It’s like the alienation in the big cities I guess.
At the same time the village where my mother is from is like a big family. Almost everyone knows everyone and they talk to each other and help each other. Or at least that’s how it was looking to me before. This has its disadvantages, of course, but people there used to hug each other a lot – they still hug each other. Not in my town.

In the beginning I was not even realizing what is wrong with me, but then I found out that I want to be much more open and close to my friends from school, but they were not like me – they were keeping distance all the time. Why was this distance for? I didn’t understand that. I still don’t.

And then I fell in love with a man from my town who had hotbloodness from his father (born not far away from my mother’s place), but it was overwhelmed by his mother’s coldness and stupid “common sense”. He, of course, broke my heart and then I began to close my heart and try to be like the others.

At this moment of time I don’t know what part of me is me, myself, and what part is disciplined to look like the others. Have I changed my initial Self?

Yes, I have. Unfortunately my husband is not able to be passionate as I am. I got used to it, but is that me?

I will think about this more sometime, now I wanted only to say, that I understand My Friend when she speaks about her intense passion.

... or I should say the last morning ...
that was what I wrote in the other blog:

I woke up this morning after I have been waking up several times at night and the same way I will wake up after the afternoon nap I am organizing now and what to see ….. actually I couldn’t see anything, because I was still drowsing and I was smiling half asleep, but that’s the saying …. so, what to see – dark outside. /I should remember sometime to think on the subject of falling asleep and waking up - everybody knows that the best part of the day is when you go to bed, which takes me to the thought if it is possible when you are dying to feel good … may be if you think you did a good job on Earth … but if I come back on the waking up – if it is not for the alarm clock to wake you up, the waking up is a great pleasure /

Before feeling awake I took a look at the blogland and I saw that a leading subject is some rain.

What a rain? I ask.

I can’t understand how a man soul can be influenced by the atmospheric conditions.

So, I don’t know how it is outside, but in my soul there is a sun that is shining so bright … as if it is burning to ashes the outer world.

But this scares me a bit.

Until recently I’ve been noticing the outer world. I have been playing with it, I was giving the cue, and I was even hearing some answers, but now … the situation tightened up.
i.e. my thoughts are wandering about some spaces that are mine, internal ones, and from the outer world I am interested in one thing only, but I won’t say now what.

I would have been more worried if this was obvious for the others and if I was not able to control to a certain degree my … madness. That’s what Castaneda was saying about the warrior – that he should possess controlled madness … .or how it is said in the original book …. I don’t know. Go and find out what this exactly means. Only the one who knows what is madness can imagine that, I am only a beginner.

Before the subject of madness was scaring me, I wanted to control everything in life. Now I changed … not that the madness is not scary, but …. I have a small hope it could be controlled.

Aren’t we here to have fun?

It’s always a big mistake if someone takes this life too seriously.

Therefore we should take this life as a game. So, we should have fun.

The point is that different people have different fun. And if you don’t want to have fun on your own /which you can do for a while, but I doubt for a lifetime/, you need to find people that have the same fun you have. If I can say so ….

That’s the big problem.

For some people is easy to find people to have fun with, because there are many people in this world that need just to go out and have a drink and chat for …. whatever they can think of, but usually the life the way they see it.

For other people is more difficult to find people with common interests especially if they live in a small town. No, a big town could be even worse having in mind how people are alienated there.

So, if you have unusual interests you are in trouble.

I guess in the past people couldn’t afford to have unusual interests if they were not rich. They were so limited in the things they were able to do. They needed to serve their Lord usually and that was it.

The more independent the people become the more different interests they have and the more difficult is for them to be satisfied.

That’s not exactly the case with me. I learnt to enjoy living for the moment and I don’t need much to be satisfied. Sometimes I even wonder do I need too little. May be I should strive for more.

But as a whole people think they need a lot. That’s way I say that half knowledge is the worst thing. If you strive for ultimate knowledge you will know that we are only children and we play on this earth. Play and learn lessons.

So, the only thing I need is a playmate.

The taste of Holiday!

Mmmmmm nice!

And this rain. I like it. It makes me stay safe at home.

No going out. No need to speak to anybody.

I can read, but I don't read.

I can write, but I don't write /these words are only figments of your minds /.

Can I just sit and do nothing?

If I do it it will be a great success - I never managed to do that before.

A found a book of Gibran in the library when I was returning the two books I took the previous time, one of them I read to the half, the other one to the 10th page and some more here and there.

So now I am a happy reader of Gibran works in my language and I will share a song I just read and found in English on the net.

Song of the Soul

In the depth of my soul there is
A wordless song - a song that lives
In the seed of my heart.
It refuses to melt with ink on
Parchment; it engulfs my affection
In a transparent cloak and flows,
But not upon my lips.

How can I sigh it? I fear it may
Mingle with earthly ether;
To whom shall I sing it? It dwells
In the house of my soul, in fear of
Harsh ears.

When I look into my inner eyes
I see the shadow of its shadow;
When I touch my fingertips
I feel its vibrations.

The deeds of my hands heed its
Presence as a lake must reflect
The glittering stars; my tears
Reveal it, as bright drops of dew
Reveal the secret of a withering rose.

It is a song composed by contemplation,
And published by silence,
And shunned by clamor,
And folded by truth,
And repeated by dreams,
And understood by love,
And hidden by awakening,
And sung by the soul.

It is the song of love;
What Cain or Esau could sing it?

It is more fragrant than jasmine;
What voice could enslave it?

It is heartbound, as a virgin's secret;
What string could quiver it?

Who dares unite the roar of the sea
And the singing of the nightingale?
Who dares compare the shrieking tempest
To the sigh of an infant?
Who dares speak aloud the words
Intended for the heart to speak?
What human dares sing in voice
The song of God?

http://leb.net/gibran/

I just found out that right after I put someting in writing I forget it.

I can't remember what I was writing 5 mins ago.

If I try hard I will remember, but as I am a lazy person and my brain is moving forward on the next thought, without efforts I won't remember what I was saying

Shall I be happy about that or I shall go to see the doctor?

Or as My Friend says what I've learned becomes part of me and I just can't sense all parts of me at once ... or I can?

I am talking rubbish for n-th time

Sometimes I am haunted by the thought that something is bad, and something is good.

Why I do that?

How can I say what is good and what is bad?

If my heart says I want something, but my mind says it is bad, who I shall follow?

Do I have consciousness for all the dimensions of this world? I don’t. How can I believe the common sense what is good and what is bad, when in absolute sense it might be the opposite. No, actually in absolute sense there is no bad, no good – these are human ideas.

Still with what I do I may harm people and I hate to do harm. But lets remember how good is for the soul to suffer.

Let’s remember also that the road to Hell is covered by good intentions.

I read a thought of Gibran yesterday – it was something like – “How can you open a heart? By breaking it.”

You think it sounds cruel … I would thought so … before ….

Oh, God!

What an escapist I was!

I am at 36 and a half and just now I am finding out the meaning of suffering.

He said once that he is able to find pleasure in suffering and if it was my old “me” I would have thought he is absolutely crazy. Now I understand him better.

See what a thought I found today:

“Today all people are staying at different doors hoping to find the door of Salvation. There are inscriptions on all doors, so that one can know where it goes. But at the door of Salvation some devils stay and prowl the man. When people see the devils, they run away. Don’t run away from that door, but stop and wait for it to open. Unless you go to the Devil, you won’t go to God either.”

Peter Dunov

I wonder what a machine is my brain.

Never stops working.

Where it takes its energy from? No idea.

Why don’t all the people I know have the same brains?

I know they are also thinking almost all the time, but what they are thinking about? Life?

What life?

The life they see, they hear, they feel. They must be curious about this life and I know they are.

But most of them can’t believe there is more in this life. More than they can see.

I am disappointed in the communist ages we were living in. The communist said there is no God, and all we have is science.

Science can’t explain much, science can’t explain even a bit of this endless world around us, and this endless world in us.

I am interested in the world in us. The world in me.

I thought I know myself. I thought I know everything about me and I thought I know how I am going to live my life.

Hahaha. What a joke?

I know nothing now. Nothing about me, nothing about my life in near future.

Do you know how it is to live without this knowledge …. or I should say without knowing? Most people do know what they are going to do in the next 10 years, say … more or less, and they are OK with that.

I guess I should live for the moment and that’s what I am going to do, but I am afraid I will need to make decisions at certain points.

And the decisions I will need to make and everything is about love.

I thought I know everything about love either. It appeared I know nothing for it too.

Or I am just too critical and I just learn my lessons and move forward and forward is always a love I never had in my life before. And I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know how to handle it, because I have no experience. But how can I have experience with something that happens for the first time in my life.

God plays bad jokes with me.

Sometimes I feel like a fool. And I am the Fool from the Tarot cards – we all are.

What a life, a?

I promise to make my life simple, really simple ….. sometime.

Now I need to write a letter to somebody else. He also says he loves me.

Love One Another

Love one another, but make not a bond of love
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other's cup, but drink not from one cup.
Give one another of your bread, but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous,
but let each one of you be alone,
Even as the strings of a lute are alone
though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping;
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together yet not too near together;
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.

Khalil Gibran

http://www.poemofquotes.com/khalilgibran/

The Love bag I have is magical.
The more Love I take and give out, the fuller it gets.

This is not my thought - I stole it from somewhere.

Oh, see what I found:

****
Be with those who help your being.
Don’t sit with indifferent people, whose breath
comes cold out of their mouths.
Not these visible forms, your work is deeper.
A chunk of dirt thrown in the air breaks to pieces.
If you don’t try to fly,
and so break yourself apart,
you will be broken open by death,
when it’s too late for all you could become.
Leaves get yellow. The tree puts out fresh roots
and makes them green.
Why are you so content with a love that turns you yellow?

****

There is some kiss we want
with our whole lives,
the touch of Spirit on the body.

Seawater begs the pearl
to break its shell.

And the lily, how passionately
it needs some wild Darling!

At night, I open the window
and ask the moon to come
and press its face against mine.
Breathe into me.

Close the language-door,
and open the love-window

The moon won't use the door,
only the window.

***

Look at Love...
how it tangles
with the one fallen in love

look at spirit
how it fuses with earth
giving it new life

why are you so busy
with this or that or good or bad
pay attention to how things blend

why talk about all
the known and the unknown
see how unknown merges into the known

why think separately
of this life and the next
when one is born from the last

look at your heart and tongue
one feels but deaf and dumb
the other speaks in words and signs

look at water and fire
earth and wind
enemies and friends all at once

the wolf and the lamb
the lion and the deer
far away yet together

look at the unity of this
spring and winter
manifested in the equinox

you too must mingle my friends
since the earth and the sky
are mingled just for you and me

be like sugarcane
sweet yet silent
don't get mixed up with bitter words

my beloved grows
right out of my own heart
how much more union can there be

http://www.allspirit.co.uk/rumi.html

To myself:

No blogging today ... till now.

Bad girl! Bad girl!

You must blog as you will go crasy otherwise.

To My Friend:

Did I tell you some people think I am crazy?

Poor normals.

There is nothing normal in being "normal". It only means you follow other people's rules.

To find your rules and to follow them is the point.

Or to live with your chaos.

That's difficult.

Still, in the biggest chaos you can sit quiet and feel comfortable. I do that.

Now, for example.

It is chaos in my head, as well as in my heart, but .... I am ok. Just sitting, writing, smiling, thinking of you ...