“If you find it in your heart to care for somebody else, you will have succeeded.”
– Maya Angelou
seeing the sea
on a whirling sakura ship
Blind man at see
departed
“Sentimental love is very unstable, because it’s based on feed-back and how good it makes you feel. That is not real love at all.” – Tenzin Palmo (Diane Perry)
Missing you like sand misses water
and the land's shores wait for the ocean's waves
I know you'll be back with brand new clothes
one fine day of new eyes, ears, nose, mouth and tongue
I know I'll probably not recognise you at first again
while our light hearts won't have noticed a thing
as things said you were gone and are back
to see I'm here and going too
in a whirling dance of times and faces
There is a heart where nothing changes as everything
changes
but that is lightly forgotten as the waves dig the shores
and castles rise and fall for us
to rest free, playing
by the shore
“On the seashore of endless worlds, children play.” – Tagore
rising sun
Miswanting: “the act of being mistaken about what and how much you will like something in the future” (Tim Wilson & Dan Gilbert)
What Our Customers Are Saying
It’s when it doesn’t count that it’s worth it.
– “Is there time for forever?”
Blasted my neurons until Patriarchy gave me a disability allowance form. Just to keep pace with the needs. And the wants.
Where is my son?
– “It’s later than you think.”
Stuck alone with a spying phone and years of begging tears.
Forgiveness is slow to come but practiced with the rising sun.
Whatever I’ll do best matches the flight of a butterfly, at best.
“Welcome the present moment as if you had invited it. It is all we ever have so we might as well work with it rather than struggle against it. We might as well make it our friend and teacher rather than our enemy.”
– Pema Chödrön
fonte humaine
On demanda à Einstein de prédire quelles armes seraient utilisées lors de la Troisième Guerre mondiale.
On m’a rapporté qu’il répondit:
“En admettant qu’une Troisième Guerre mondiale aille jusqu’à la destruction nucléaire, je peux dire que la Quatrième Guerre mondiale sera menée avec des arcs et des flèches.”
– Comte de Mountbatten of Burma (1900 – 1979)
tik tak tik tak
“Je me tue à vous dire” suinte en larmes noyées dans le lit sec vers la mère, océan de compassion.
Comportements non… et tik tak tik tak tik tak… à crever la gueule ouverte, et tik tak tik tak… cent ans peuvent passer sans soutien ni main tendue, et tik tak, “Je me tue à vous dire” s’approche de la berge.
Dans l’ombre de nos mémoires on se cherche à tâtons en devinant les trajectoires depuis la dernière tendresse d’une adresse et d’un rendez-vous qui avait tout d’une évidence.
On disparaît ou se laisse disparaître.
Dans l’ombre de nos mémoires, ces bruits d’un foyer, d’amis et de quotidiens apparaissent dans le calme d’un matin sans regrets ni attachement. On dégèle des peurs solitaires qui laissaient sans voix, qui laissaient pantois, qui laissaient sans toit.
Les sourires sont lumineux pendant la fonte humaine.
Tellement lumineux.
timeless letter
For S.B.
Hope it wasn’t only my thoughts that saw you smiling in the dark.
Crazy how simply to be able to thank can become a dream over the years. And why, it’s so hard to grasp and explain, so easy at the same time. If it weren’t for something on a level I can’t understand but that certainly comes from your stream, I wouldn’t have gathered the courage to start this blog nor to put effort in trying to express words more clearly. Maybe because I felt you were listening sincerely and nothing like a coward. Something that struck me as being an example.
Hope this finds your stream again one day and that you’re healthy and happy, wherever you are.
P.S.: I’ve still got your painting.
pebble in shoe
“… experiencing a sense of being back to square one. Being completely bewildered by that, we make our first expression of art in the sense of copying or imitating, tuning in to a philosophy, or spiritual waves. But going beyond that approach, if we feel that we are back to square one and completely bewildered, we have a beautiful white canvas in front of us.”
– Chögyam Trungpa
A pebble in shoe
Why yearn for the roads and obsess about a few seconds hours moments of own personal joy to catch fast quick now, like feathers about to fly away, when one can have the whole sky without a pebble in shoe hiding the wings?
–
no pet
Dog sighs without a wink.
Reduced to silently look through the car window drifting in rain, wings stand highly black brown like an autumn leaf dried still.
The butterfly walks on the offered finger and rests a watchful little while before flying impatiently into the dim light of the rear window drifting in rain.
Dog winks.
Butterfly peacock is nearly out as it walks on the hand bringing to the door, opened by a human taxi in awe when seeing primary colours open up to misty cold freedom.
Dog puts nose on paw.
mole hills are
vole hills
There is no badger in sight.
bon.bond
Qu'est-ce qu'on en a bavé - ou bravé? Spirales d'yeux mobiles aux feuilles d'allures rapides s'endorment les côtes brisées d'insomnies. Les concurrents escaladent leurs branches tandis que les sirènes appellent une sortie de héros ordinaires pour éteindre et étreindre sans trop embrasser les étoiles de mer, garde-mangers d'un bond au-dessus des saisons souterraines. Phytoncides avant l'hiver, message en vert chemin: "Demain, c'est sans Game Over".
« Tu ne vois que ton ombre lorsque tu tournes le dos au soleil. »
– Khalil Gibran
orage, portail, poitrail
suffixe augmentatif
Positive growth +
“Le son du tonnerre, bien qu’assourdissant, est inoffensif;
L’arc-en-ciel, malgré ses couleurs chatoyantes, ne dure pas;
Ce monde, même s’il apparaît plaisant, est semblable à un rêve;
Les plaisirs des sens, bien qu’agréables, n’apportent au bout du compte que désillusions.”
– Jetsün Milarepa
Plein de cases pour caser les cas en décadence de cadences… mais un jour, nous verrons une vie qui dira liberté en soi-moi.
Ce lit, défait et vide sous un ciel bleu, est silencieux comme une fugue. Pas perdus sans combin.é.e.s, après l’orage. Injoignables hirondelles fatiguées, les murs sont las d’attendre d’être effleurés de nids. Portail.
Poitrail. Pleins sont vides à plaindre, parfois, alors que des concerts improvisés sont à l’horizon du monde. Ailleurs.
Œillères. Cette gestation, orchestre du silence, prend plus de saisons que d’années.
Été, on y était, d’ailleurs, à ne pas penser à changer ce qu’on aime. Pourquoi nous changer, après tout, si ce qu’on aime n’est plus pensées?
unfinished business
Seamaster
Just trying to have less unfinished business when leaving spots on my agenda. A robin sings big things on a small red flower. Seamaster, along all those rivers we sometimes see the ocean in each drop falling on our heads. The sea showed us friendly palms of empty hands full of joy, stays with us when a robin sings big things on a small red flower and quietness flows. Busy dissolves as the sun rises it's waves. The agenda flies off and time watches.
“Seismic data is sound.”
– Andy Hildebrand (Auto-Tune)
chameleonian times 