DAY 603

"The Universe story is the quintessence of reality.
We perceive the story. We put it in our language, the birds put it in theirs, and the trees put it in theirs. We can read the story of the Universe in the trees. Everything tells the story of the Universe. The winds tell the story, literally, not just imaginatively. The story has its imprint everywhere, and that is why it is so important to know the story. If you do not know the story, in a sense you do not know yourself; you do not know anything."

Thomas Berry


Since I was a little girl I knew this to be true in a very intuitive way. The importance of the story we all share (and the micro-stories inside the big story) has defined my life,  my need to find the hidden connections  has guided me, and the possibility of telling my own vision of them, in my own voice (even accepting that I am much more than the stories I can tell)  has fascinated me. Maybe it is time to turn this into something more tangible, to explore more deeply, to stay true to what is essential to me. 


Maybe it is time.  

Maybe it is time to  be reborn, to awaken to the sacredness of this lifelong task.

Happy Easter, dear friends

Much Love,

Z.

DAY 582

in {and out} Week 17: Flowers

I am almost a newcomer to photography. My husband always thought that I could develop my creativity through it, but I only started to contemplate that possibility after having my first digital camera and taking an on-line class about self-portraiture (almost by chance). Once that happened, I began to explore the world around me with the camera in my hand and I realized that I just loved it. 

Photography has been a delightful activity along the last four years, it has helped me to improve my inner work which is quite important to me, but it has also permitted me to figure out how my creative mind works.

When I was young  I aspired to develop an artistic career (something that I never did), so I though a lot about what I should create and always the same type of things came to my mind: something impressive, complex or very profound from an intellectual point of view. But when I started to create I wasn´t able to make something like that. I created things that were symbolic and very detailed, precise, well executed and even imaginative but not intense or dramatic. Professors encouraged me to develop my talent but I simply couldn´t believe in it. I concluded that I had not what an artist needs and this (along with another issues) prevented me to look for specialized training. I kept creating but I choose to study education instead of arts.

When I started to take photos on a regular basis,  soon I felt drawn to certain kind of images and compositions. And soon, my prejudices about the advisability of that approach arose. I wanted to take street photos, black and white portraits, images that would reveal hidden aspects of society but once again I was caught up in contradictory feeling.  My mind wanted to try all that,  but my heart was fascinated with simple scenes of the domestic life, with little graces of everydayness and often fell victim to nature´s charms.

A voice inside my mind shouted for pain every time I took a photo following my heart.  After every click of the camera´s release, I had to listen: "Flowers, birds and cups of tea again, seriously?", but I was overflowing with joy and my creativity was increasing, so I learnt to ignore it, something I was not able to do when I was much younger. This allowed me to explore and refine my style and to admit that I am a person oriented to understand the whole picture through the close examination of all its details.

Now I don´t refuse to be who I am. I  pay attention to what often gets unnoticed, appreciate what is part of my daily life and compose using average items. I try to highlight the extraordinary in the ordinary, I like little things and I have come to accept that  I prefer to capture a fallen leave that a whole forest, an almost withered flower that a whole sophisticated bouquet. 

Through all this process I have brought to light what my soul needs (literally and figuratively) to grow -regardless of the resistance of my mind and my ego- and therefore, I have learnt to appreciate what I love to capture.

 I have learnt to appreciate what is unexceptional and unremarkable; myself and the life I live;  the mundane and the humble trifles that make my life easier, and much more joyful.

I have learnt not to expect what is unusual or striking to be happy and to honor the unexpected beauty that always find when I go over my path.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 575

in {and out} Week 13: Easter

I have thought much about this entry of the project. I am not a religious person, I was not raised to be practicing, even when my mother was it, so I have never felt compelled to follow any creed although I deeply respect those who do have those beliefs.

This made difficult to find a right approach to this theme since Easter is itself a Christian celebration and I live in a place with important Judeo-Christians (and specifically Catholic) traditions. In the very beginning, I didn´t feel comfortable with illustrating the rituals that rule this time of the year according to some fixed ecclesiastical patterns, I preferred a more secular interpretation, so I explored other possibilities.

I considered many other aspects of Easter in order to write about them, moreover I also thought of playing with a more delightful imagery. In the end, painted eggs and lovely bunnies are much sweeter than Our Lady of Sorrows or the Death of Jesus upon the Cross. However I always ended up thinking about crucifixion and resurrection, not only because all this is part of the shared story with my mother and part of my culture, but because all this truly appeals to my spiritual side.

So after forgetting some of my reluctance to embrace this point of view, after letting go some of my preconceived ideas about myself and, in particular, about how I like to show up here… after doing all those things and more, in the Good Friday, I headed for a church and stayed there for a while.

The atmosphere was really stunning and strikingly peaceful. The light, the silence, the flowers, the beauty, the messages about salvation and redemption, about rebirth and forgiveness, about love and kindness spoke loud and clear to my soul. I find hard to share many parts of Christian doctrine or Catholic liturgy, and I think I have prejudices about organized religions (most of them related to bigotry, intolerance, abuses or falseness) but I resonated with the essence of the message nevertheless.

Sitting there, quite and tranquil, free from harm, I realized how lucky I am to have had the chance to know about all this as a child, without being pressured into adopting any religious faith. I too realized how clever my mother was by doing things that way. Her mindset made me free to explore my spiritual side without restrictions (I had not the sense that I was abandoning anything), to welcome new perspectives and viewpoints when the right moment came but, at the same time and maybe paradoxically, it helped me to go depth into it without fear, just because I was already aware of being spiritual despite my preferences, behaviors, experiences or attitudes, my mistakes and my wise choices, the sense of unease or my erratic pace.

And sitting there, quite and tranquil, free from harm, I gave thanks.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We´ll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project. 

DAY 365+106

finite infinitude

Morning. Pure light. The aroma of baby cologne... 

Mum is doing her homework, she still loves mathematics. She recites the multiplication table as we used to do when we were at school. My brother is practicing calligraphy. They were reluctant to start but now they are joking and smiling. I have had to make hard decisions to keep them at home, but after a whole year of my brother´s accident, they are still here and finally they have the adequate caregivers and seem to be happy with their circumstances.

A day like this, but one year ago, when I received the phone call telling me about my brother´s accident I went into panic. They had lived together all their lives but I couldn´t imagine how this could keep being viable without his help. He is a disabled person but also had been the support of my mother since she started to reveal the signs of age and her dependency increased. But I have managed to do it, to make possible what seemed impossible.

However, this has been probably one of the hardest years of my life and not only due to the responsibilities that I have assumed by supervising all their needs, something that I have always done. Many days I have felt devastated and frustrated because this has forced me to deal with the ageing and death issues. Something that, obviously, I was not ready to do.

I´ve been angry. Very angry, to be honest. And so very sad. After all the inner work (when I was starting to understand what this life of mine was about and starting to love the person that I had started to be) I had to admit that time and love could be infinite but this concrete life, this concrete self, was finite and I found it unfair (yes, I know).

But let me tell you that two months ago or so, I saw light at the end of the tunnel. Nothing had really changed but I felt some kind of acceptance and acquiescence. I came to the conclusion that time is a continuum made of incessant moments; fleeting moments that last only an instant and contain the essence of the whole universe. Chaotic moments, tranquil moments, unexpected moments, that won´t be eternal but will merge into eternity. I understood also, that love is vast and endless but exists in the daily proofs of affection, in the unlimited acts of everyday kindness.

I decided that I am not going to miss any other of those countless moments because I am guessing what tomorrow will bring or grieving for what I have lost. I am not going to miss any other opportunity to show boundless love.

Morning. Pure light. The aroma of baby cologne...

They laugh at their own jokes and pretend to be my students. I pretend to be their teacher. I take my camera to capture the moment and I glimpse a flash of joy inside me.

Cross-posted at Vision and Verb on Friday. Many other women share their passion for creativity and words there, please visit us, it is a wonderful site

There you will find also a Card Shoppe. For every greeting card sold, the profit will accrue in allotments of $25 each to be given as loans to men and women around the world who are starting their own businesses. We have chosen the non-profit organization KIVA as the conduit for our giving back

You can send a love note to a friend and make a difference in the world

DAY 365+93

back to basics 

This is my Photo-Heart Connection of this month. I had selected another photo but while I was editing some photos for an on-line class about how to make creative sketches that I am taking, I felt unexpectedly connected to some of them

I made the photos only to document my working process and I was reluctant to share them out of that context so I resisted to follow my heart but it ended up winning

As they say, heart defies logic. This is not the photo I expected to share, but here it is

You may ask where is the connection here, why my heart dances and applauds when look at it, what makes this better than still lifes, flowers, summer sceneries and the rest of captures of July

Well, that´s what I think:

Drawing was my first creative passion. My first memories of myself represent me as a girl who was always drawing

Till I had 18 or so, I drawed almost every day of my life, mainly using Indian ink. I thought I was meant to be an artist and I wanted to study art, but every time I attempted to take a specific class on this issue, I felt frustrated and missunderstood

When I started my university studies, I opted for the social field and not for the art field, many person advised me to make a pragmatic decision and I thought they were right

I´ve been without drawing properly since 1999 or so, but I´ve continued to develop my creative dimenssion trough making collages, restoring furniture, taking photos and any kind of crafts you can image

I don´t know if the academic perspective of art, my need to please others, my perfectionism and great expectations and the feel that I was not good enough created this situation, but by taking this class I have given myself permission to explore my ability without pressures and I am feeling the same bliss that I experienced as a kid. And my heart dances and applauds!.

The class involves several assignments which are interesting, very inspiring and liberating. This photo is partial capture of one of the first pages I have created. We have to play with paints or ink freely, creating casual patterns and then we could use it to draw or write

I selected this fragment because of the phrase I found there (which I didn´t even remember writing it): surrender yourself to your destiny

DAY 365+72

budding calm

This is my April´s contribution to Photo-Heart Connection. I was almost sure that this photo would be my choice when I edited it a few weeks ago, and today, while I was looking over my files, I felt irreversibly attracted to it again

There is something about its composition that makes me think of my love for painting, which date back to my early childhood and has accompanied me since then. It reminds me the blissful amazement that I´ve experienced looking at the artwork of great impressionism masters, maybe because it captures the effect of light at a particular time of the day or maybe because the background shows what seems quick brushstrokes of color...

But there is also a story behind it:

Every single time I go to the park next to my house I visit the rose garden. Somehow, that is a tribute to my mother who has always wanted to have a garden (and has never accomplished her dream) and adores flowers, in particular roses, so I go there and take a few photos. Most of the times I don´t publish or even edit them, I simply keep them. In my mind I am creating a rose garden for my mother, but I still am not clear about how it is going to be materialized, so I continue taking photos, trying to let the hurry aside and enjoy this dream, the dream I have inherited from her

A month before this photo was taken, I went to the rose garden a I found it totally lopped off. The stalks were so short that I had the feeling that the little garden wouldn´t be the same ever again. The place looked sad, I felt totally disheartened and the critic that lives inside me started to say me that time was not by my side (my mom will be 89 next November) and also, that I had been little diligent in carrying out that project. That´s what the inner critic does, you know: makes the most of emotional vulnerability, and causes you to feel shame

I felt a bit annoyed, even when I have become aware long ago of the true nature of this project, which is not only about my mother´s dream, but also about my need to reconnect with earth with my story and to heal transgerational traumas

The day I took this photo, I was reluctant to go outside with the camera. I was tired and it was too late, but finally I decided to do it. I went to the park, thinking that I could only walk, and headed towards the rose garden which were beautifully illuminated by the last sun rays. To my surprise, it was in bloom. Big roses and little buds were sharing the same space; color and fragrance were awesome and beauty was reigning everywhere

I was thrilled. Life seemed to be promising again. I thought of the old dream of my mother and wondered if someday (some way or another) it could come true. I breathed the scented air and I realized that I was not so interested in the answer. I looked at the roses that were not there only a few weeks ago and thought that life is sweet, yet unpredictable. And I felt that maybe (only, maybe) I was ready to deal with this: with unattainable dreams and pending projects; with intangible goals and pruned aspirations; with lessening opportunities and unexpected gifts and miracles. With life, disenchantment and hope

Today, I breathe in and I feel how the garden is flowering inside me. My inner critic remains silent

DAY 365+13

recovering my power

This is my November´s contribution to photo-heart connection

I bought some hearts at the beginning of the month. I collect them and when Christmas is near there are more models available, so I always enjoy looking for new pieces along this time of the year

I started this collection long ago during a time of my life when I wanted to achieve some kind of balance, so I decided to use some symbols which could illustrate the kind of life I was dreaming of. I wanted to use them as a reminders and also as a way to attract it

Hearts were my way to say that I deserved love and I wouldn´t permit any abusive behavior. At that moment I was awaking to the reality of my life and I was dealing with serious issues about boundaries (read here if you want to know more)

As the collection has been increasing, my life has been changing. Of course, I have done many other things, but the constant presence of the hearts around me makes me remember my resolution and has acted as a "catalytic" of my responses. However, I haven´t chose this photo only because of that. This was my first idea when I looked through my November files a week ago or so, but when I came back to them, I felt another sort of connection

Lately, I´ve been dealing with family issues once again and I have felt how some of my old patterns were trying to reemerge. For a week or two -in the middle of past month- I was deeply influenced by them and I acted based on my fears and old conditionings. I simply was lost in the old, crazy, drama again and most of my family members were feeding my lack of control with their attitudes and demands. To make the things worse, my husband who works as a sort of counterweight when this happens, were working outside the country, so it took me more time to realize what I was doing. I ended up truly exhausted after my walk for those old territories. And ill (literally speaking), and damaged and disappointed and so, so sad

It´s my caretaking behavior when becomes obsessive which enables some  abuses to continue in my family. I am clear about this. I also assume my responsibility and I know that even when generally speaking abuse won´t stop (this is none of my business as it is beyond my means), I should not permit those things that directly affect me or use myself as a shield to prevent abuse against others. But to be honest, sometimes I can´t help doing it

I am tired of the whole matter, in particular after this last round. I still have to struggle against relapses and against others expectations and their pretentions and this is consuming my energy.  I know that I have walked a long path and I feel that I am able to keep the balance and avoid chaos but I would like not to feel this way never again 

I would love to be more steadfast in the love for my self and this is what I felt when I saw this photo. I have accepted that is me who makes decisions about my own life, but I still have to appreciate my own integrity (physical and emotionally speaking) a bit more

PS: When I talk about my family here I am referring to my family of origing 

DAY 343

through the framework of my mind

We all are under the influence of our story, experiences and life circumstances. This creates a way to interpret what is happening around us that it is not always sane. It works as a sort of filter that selects data, leaving us with a biased perspective

Paradoxically, the more we analyze life using this perspective, the more we think it´s right. This happens because it only lets us see what is according to its principles. Every little thing that can prove that it is wrong will be ignored, and becomes a sort of anathema to the person who is using a given paradigm. Even when one feels that the paradigm is not as useful as before, the person keeps being faithful to it and even looks for ways to justify its contradictions

My paradigm told me that I had to please others if I wanted to be loved. And even more, I should be rescuer if I wanted to be loved

My father passed away when I was only five after an illness that lasted a few years. Even when my six brothers and sisters were living at home when my father died, after a year or so, my mother, my brother (who is a disabled person) and me were living alone. My parents  story had been too complicated and I felt that I had to help my mother to keep up with her life, so I took many responsibilities and started to be what people expected me to be

After a few years, my sister (who later we discovered had a serious mental disease) came back home, and started to psychologically abuse us. Believe me or not, I was convinced I was the strongest of us (time has proved this to be true), so I became the rescuer of them. I protected my mom and my brother from my sister -and from their other problems- and I even tried to save her from her own attitudes trying to became her best friend (!)

The way my sister manipulated me is indescribable. She also manipulated the rest of my family but I was her favorite target 

It took me almost forty years to figure out what was happening in my life and the influence of those circumstances on me. I was so used to living that way that somehow I had normalized them and I thought the problem was in me (of course, my sister always said this to me) 

But looking for an explanation to my unease, and all my unbalanced behaviors, I found out that what I considered to be normal was indeed a chaos, where the main problem was a serious ill person with a history of pills and alcohol abuse and borderline behaviors... and it was not me

Now I can´t believe that regardless all this I could create good things, like a professional career, a steady relationship and so on. And sometimes I wonder how did I manage to stay upright while living all those things without much external support, because my sister -like many other abusers- was able to win people´s sympathy, mostly lying to them and playing the victim (indeed, she mastered that art).But I did it, and the latest years I´ve been even able to break that abusive relationship and create room for other experiences

The harm all this caused me is not little, but I am dealing with it and I am happy with myself. However, I am always afraid of a sudden relapse, afraid of my responses to certain stimulus, afraid of being not strong enough to face up another episode of this soap opera (I still have strong confrontations with my sister when we see each other by chance in my mom´s house)

But all the things that have happened the last week  have made me see that this journey of mine is a journey meant to understand and rebuild the frames of my mind, and also that I have created already those alternative frames I was looking for. I am so glad!, this is right the confirmation I was needing

DAY 324

reinterpreting an old melody 

Every time I see an interesting window I ask myself what stories can it hide. The house is the space where the family´s play takes place, indeed, what we call home is deeply linked to our memories, and some well settled routines

When I was a girl I always dreamed about having a doll house, but I never got it (I am sure I didn´t even ask for it, so no complicated feelings about this). It was like a secret project that I developed privately, thinking of the moment that I would be able to have it. As I was a very imaginative girl, I started to realize some projects of my dreamed doll house. I made some rudimentary sketches and finally I came up with a way to represent the house in a more realistic way

I used two poster boards. I used one to draw the vertical projection of the front inner side of the house, where all the rooms were amazingly detailed. And the other poster board was used to draw the vertical projection of the front facade, with doors and windows that could be opened. And the I put the first poster board behind the other.  I expended countless hours with these projects and every house was related to a particular story that conditioned the decoration. I don´t know how many alternative lives were imagined by me, but I guess most of them were projections of my wishes for the future.

I remember asking myself: what if I change this or that detail of the house or of the story?  and how I started to re-create one depending on the changes on the other. I needed that sort of consistence so deeply...

I think that my love for finding out the existing links between psychological and real spaces, the influence of spaces on people´s mood and vice versa  comes from that age. This is now part of my field of interest as a researcher (thirty odd years later!). Indeed,  I´ve investigated a lot on the educative potential of certain contexts and about how certain ways to plan and decorate spaces can make us move in certain direction 

Public and private spaces can be a statement about who we are but also about who we want to be. If we live surrounded of things that remind us what we want to achieve and we design our house to make room for the life we are dreaming of (and not for the life we are trying to leave behind) we will get an awesome fresh impetus to our dreams. Just give a try, it works

PS. In case you´re wondering if I finally got my doll house, my answer is yes!. In fact, I am working on it at this moment. And according to my previous ideas, I have planned it as a decorative treat at my house that links me to my story, my gifts and the life I want to live. And remaining faithful to my origins, I have imagined a story that makes sense: it´s the house of a bohemian spiritual seeker

DAY 300

destiny

I found this old photo at my mom´s house. Of course, I had seen it before. She has a whole drawer full of old photos and when I was younger I usually rummaged through them to find tiny treasures like this

This photo has a curious story. Long ago, my mother told me its meaning but she didn´t know how it ended up at my house. As you can see it´s a photo taken in Carnival. Probably, it was taken near her house, because the little girl who is sat on the young man´s lap is my mom (it´s a pity that her face can´t be appreciated better). The two pierrots in the back of the photo are my mother´s brother in law and the youngest one is my mother´s brother (on the right side). But the most important thing about this photo is this: the young man who is behind the boy who is holding my mom -yes, the one who is showing his tongue- is my dad

My mom and dad lived in a very small city where everyone knew each other, but the main reason they are together in this photo must be that my mother´s brother in law and my father were cousins. She is sure she were there accidentally; she was not meant to be there, as she was only a little girl, but at that time carnival where celebrated along the day and this group probably went to my grandmother´s house to have a drink and something to eat

This photo was taken circa 1928. And probably my mother is the only one of all them that is still alive. I´ve been talking about this with her  these days. She can´t believe how time has flown. She said me, we always think we will have time, but one day you wake up and you´re that old... and you have not all that time anymore... but what else can we do except living?

While we were talking, I realized that this photo also shows the background of my own story, the moment where everything was starting to hatch. And I feel so very lucky to have this precious testimony of my lineage

On the other hand, I remembered this quote by  Carl Jung , that I truly believe is the perfect caption for it: 

"I feel very strongly that I am under the influence of things or questions which were left incomplete and unanswered by my parents and grandparents and more distant ancestors. It often seems as if there were an impersonal karma within a family which is passed on from parents to children. It has always seemed to me that I had to answer questions which fate had posed to my forefathers, and which had not yet been answered, or as if I had to complete, or perhaps continue, things which previous ages had left unfinished."

Indeed, when I look at this photo now, I feel in my heart that I am dealing not only with things related to my own life, but also with things related to my ancestor´s life. And also that I am looking for a way to integrate not only my story, but their stories in the new weft of my life



PS: My mother has been ill, she is getting better, and this is why I am behind with my post. Now that I am a bit quieter, I am transcribing my impressions of previous days 

DAY 299

feeling isolated II


How many times I have wanted to talk about this or that

and my words went unheeded? 


how many times I have wanted to share my wishes and dreams

and we have ended up talking about their wishes and dreams? 


how many times I have wanted to pour my heart out to them

and I have had to comfort them, instead? 


how many times I have wanted to show off some of my achievements

and they have sang someone else´s praises? 


how many times I have wanted to feel beautiful, loved, important

and they have ignored me? 


how many times I have wanted to hear an applause

and I have had to applaud?


how many times I have wanted a pat on the back

and I have gone unnoticed? 


how many times I have wanted to be heard

I have had to hear their problems, anecdotes or concerns? 


how many times I have wanted to explain my point of views

and I have been invalidated?


More that I can count on my fingers

From outside it can be seeing as a complex problem with many sides, the result of old and hard to explain dynamics... no doubt, it is. From outside, it can be seeing as a matter of emotional intelligence, no doubt, we were not strong on that topic. From outside, this can be even estimate as a self-esteem problem of that who is writing... it can be, it can be 

From inside, it is more simpler... from inside is the story of a disequilibrium, because I was a girl and they were adult (in fact, my eldest sisters are more than fifteen years older than me) 

From inside is the story of an upside down world, where I was treated as an adult when I was too young to understand that I wasn´t such thing. A world where I have had to act as an adult but I have not the privilege of claiming my perspective because I am the youngest. A world where I only have duties but I have not rights, where my voice is not important, and my success is played down but I have tons of responsibilities. A world where I cannot complain because no one seems to see what I see, no one wants to change things... maybe because this would mean to accept supposed past mistakes

The true is that it´s not anybody fault, but this is the upside down world where I have had  to live in order to feel connected to my closer family. I come in and out of it once and again but I am tired. So tired

Talking about this with my mother one of these days, she said to me: you are the little one, but you´re older than many others at the same time. This is something my husband  and friends have said to me tons of times but I haven´t wanted to assume it    

And suddenly I realized that my world is upside down because I want it to be this way, the only thing I have to do is standing up on my own life and  claiming  my power. This way, I will be able not only to liberate myself, but to show the compassion that lies inside me

Resistance won´t mend my lost childhood. Vindication won´t make my current life easier 

It´s time to move forward

DAY 293

it´s not about love 

Every time I am at my mom´s house I become absorbed by family´s life and this makes me see evidences of old dynamics that don´t affect me when I am at home. This happens because we neither live in the same city, nor in the same island, so when I am back, it´s like time was standing still and nothing would have changed. Regardless the years and the new generations, every person is identified with the same old role without noticing how harmful they can be

This frightens me, because I don´t want to be immersed in the old play. I have the feeling that if I do it all my efforts had been vain but my unwillingness creates conflict. So even if I don´t want to do it, I end up playing my role because this is the only way I can connect with them. But, the thing is that I can´t perform it now as well as I used to do it, so anyway there is conflict

This is the reason why every time I am at my mom´s house I am prone to write about my relationship with my family (and when I say family I am mostly thinking of my mother and siblings), even when this makes me feel guilty

I have the feeling that it looks as if I might be too demanding or hypercritical but I am only trying to establish that there are still big issues that we should face up in order to heal the way we are relating to each other and we are not being able to do it. Issues that are still threaten us

I have found a way to deal with past issues that have given me lots of peace and stability that I would love to share with them, but sadly is not that easy. And this makes me feel frustration, anger, fear... powerlessness

I don´t think I am better person than my sisters. I don´t love them less because I write about our lives. I don´t want them to live according my rules. This is not about comparisons, is not about affection, is not about control, is all about consciousness

But even so,  -I am not sure why-  those things that usually makes me be strong and balanced, makes me also look haughty. And instead of feeling happy and proud of myself (as I usually do), I feel forsaken

desolated

PS: My mother has been ill, she is getting better, and this is why I am behind with my post. Now that I am a bit quieter, I am transcribing my impressions of previous days 

DAY 291

back to the center 
continuation

but next to the center there is a black hole

it´s hard to say it this way, I know, but I am so very tired of feign that it is not there


I have emerged from it

and I´ve stretched out my soul to catch light´s dust

trying to hold tight those who I loved so much, at the same time,

trying to lead them to a safe place,

trying to protect them,

trying to advice those who didn´t want to hear me, to alert them to the danger


it was a huge effort and not always productive:

the sense of family was blown up

and I leapt into space

only to discover that I could fly


I could fly far away from the black hole made of lies, secrets, misunderstandings, manipulation, insanity...

but once and again I was back to look after the castaways because they were so fragile, so vulnerable

and to warn those who still were travelling across that stormy sea about the risks


and once and again obscurity caught me and once and again its bottomless depth took me by surprise

but I wasn´t meant to be a critter of the abyss, I was meant to explore light, so I survived


I survived because I had to be here. I survived because I had to claim clarity. I survived because I had to stay here, right now, beside my mother´s armchair making this stage of her life easier. I survived because I had something to say. I survived because deep inside I knew that beyond the life I was living, there was a haven of peace where I could be renewed


PS: My mother has been seriously ill, she is getting better, and this is why I am behind with my post. Now that I am a bit quieter, I am transcribing my impressions of previous days

DAY 290

back to the center

to the place where everything started

and from where I feel so estranged

but where I can be who I am meant to be



Back to the center

to the place where I dreamt about another life

and  from where I flown away


Back to the center

following the silvery trail that I drew when I left



Back to the center

to the place where I can be involved in complex dynamics that I am afraid I cannot bear again

because there is a delicate cord that ties me to my mom, 

a cord that is stronger than my fear to my complicated family and our troubled circumstances



Back to the center

to the place where she is awaiting

with my new voice, my new gained strength


Back to the center...

we have been fellow traveler for a long time and we will go hand in hand till the end


PS: My mother has been seriously ill, she is getting a bit better, and this is why I am behind with my post. Now that I am a bit quieter, I am transcribing my impressions of previous days