Moving…on

I haven’t posted for quite a while. Apart from daily, professional, personal reasons, apart from a busy schedule and ongoing projects, I haven’t posted because I have made up my mind…to move on and create a new blog.

I’ ve had the feeling recently, that something was missing on my current blog, or that I was missing something. Missing my point. Being unfocused. I’ve had the feeling I could be more ‘useful’, more fruitful.

I’ve been wavering between the envy to write philosophical texts, to post photographs and peoms, to blog about recipes and crafts that I do. But there is no common point, no coherence in all that mix and match of daily tasks, artistic ramblings and existential thoughts.

Or is there? Yes, there is a coherence. It is the will and choice to beautify every day of my life. To memorize, capture and remember the beauty of my days. To enhance or modestly create and highlight beauty wherever it is hiding or recoiling.

Once you’ve chosen to see and focus on beauty, life does not change. But life takes on different colours and takes you on a different path.

And so I am moving on, and hoping you will come and meet me again, on Beautify!

I am hoping and planning to share this new blog with a dear friend of mine, who has so much to tell about her own life philosophy and the beautiful spiritual and crafting traditions of her country.

I hope this new blog will be a fun and comfy place to meet, share and learn all together.

See you very soon!

 

2013: solutions

Almost mid-january, and I haven’t posted any new year wish!

Not that I don’t mean it, but life happens, with a growing

Mix and match of hurriedness and errands and…problems.

I’ve read a lot of blogs with one word summarizing the new start,

And if I had to pick one – why not – that would be the word

Solution.

There isn’t that much in my life

To complain about, yet there are things to face, things that rush,

Things that screech and things that itch. The usual package of

Left-by-life presents I’d rather not open. The regular drill, with

A newly accelerated pace that makes me think back to slightly older day

When there was still time for making a pause.

Funny, I hardly complain, I hardly protest,

And here I am, starting this new year post with a consideration

That already sounds to me like too much whining. Nay, this

Is about solutions. As much as I thank life for my

Good fortune, I’ll make this year the time for solutions, a path

Toward improvement and peace, comfort and acceptance,

So as to leave more, more, more space to mirth, action, creativity.

I wish you all to embrace the world, like Aimee Mullins,

I wish you all to be brave, formidable warriors of life, like William Henley,

I wish you all to savour each and every drop of your wild and precious life.

Magic little Christmas

All passed Xmases have brought us

To this merry little Christmas.

Eight years ago Christmas delivered

Earth-shattering news  to me – this Xmas

Is a little special again, so sweet in many ways,

So bitter in other respects. Yet here we all are,

Cherishing future prospects, cajoling

Childhood memories, and poised in the very little

Present moment – something to revel in,

Something to remember, something to look forward.

And in the midst of all noise and hurry, a Xmas night

When everything, yet again, resounds with magic.

A magic little Xmas to you all!

Grief

Sadly the words I love so much

Cannot bring back what was taken.

I have genuine fondness for the

United States of America, with all their

Beauties, grandeur and contradictions too,

I love this country for many, many

Sorts of reason. What happened there

Yesterday leaves me, sadly, with words I feel useless.

Like in many other tragedies, in many other countries,

When man suddenly unleashes animal violence, I think of

All the people who have lost more than one

Can possibly lose, more than themselves.

Words that usually flow start struggling, and I think

Of laughters gone…sadly indeed

Words can’t do much! Thoughts and intentions,

Forms of prayers, a moment to focus

On what could be done to enable love and wisdom,

To rule out madness and violence, that’s all

I can think of. That, and a true, genuine hug

When nothing else really matters, when grief

Has taken what cannot be given back.

To all the victims and their families,

I sure can’t do much but my thoughts

Are with you.

Everything is important, few things really matter

A cup of coffee warm in my hands,

A battered old postcard on the fridge,

A heart-wrapping tune playing softly,

Autumn leaves falling swiftly,

Lavender lying on the counter like a bridge

Between summer and winter, errands

Done that make my heart swell

With content, food simmering slowly,

Everything right now is well,

Everything is important.

Nothing yet compares

To the energetic bubbling life

That fills every corner

Of my mother’s kitchen

When my children just rush in.

Nothing really matters when

A loved one suddenly falls ill,

Sees their heart broken or

Loses peace, whether for a long moment

Or a long damned lifetime.

Very few things really matter

After all.

One step back

It strikes me, whatever passes,

Happens, crashes or rushes,

Very often, a simple remedy

Is just to take

One step back.

Just one damn moment,

To pause and consider.

One giant moment,

Shuffling away all the hurry,

The worry, the errands.

Very simply, one step.

Setting aside all that is

Not urgent, that is,

Most of the things.

Stepping back I see

The foolishness of most worries,

And the deep lesson taught

By hardhip and grief.

There is peace and freedom

Deep within ourselves.

There is a treasure that blooms,

There is something precious

To catch.

It mostly requires

One step back.

So what the hell are we doing with our lives?

I might well be one more

Little human squeezed between

Questioning and seizing the moment,

But this life, this dash, this short span

Of time we are given, is that a random act

Of chance, or the evidence of a purposeful pattern?

Is it a joke, this fleeting model of happiness

Where your most beloved ones someday depart?

Is it a trick, a trap, a lure, this path where

Beautiful memories become your most

Treasured possession, where what’s given

Is taken away, torn into shreds, or simply forgotten?

I’ll never get a satisfying answer, yet every moment

Of this life, this wild and precious life,

Breathes, writhes, shouts and sings,

Every second sends a signal rushing

In our veins and dashing through our minds.

Whether grief, sadness, disappointment, or bliss,

Passion, elevation, hope, every moment’s

Adding its glory and its rage to this

Amazing, weird and tricky, beautiful edifice.

So many paths missed, so many encounters

Lost, so many to regret too.

Yet I would not choose no other, even the hurtful ones,

Even the sorrow and the pain, and all the mistakes,

As they go in pair with

All the luck that was bestowed upon me.

So what the hell are we doing with our lives?

For I see too many heart-broken or forlorn

Souls in this world, I see quite a few foolish ones,

Too. Meanwhile every second of this life,

Whether eternal or pointless, is running.

It is just flying, high-speeding through the

Meanders of our little human time.

And it is precious, it is a fire burning

Flames of mystery and possibilities.

Think, act, savour, improve…

There is not a moment to lose, is there?

A tale of two birds

Once upon a time,

Several months ago,

Two canary birds landed

In my living room.

They had been offered as a gift

To someone who fell ill

And I took them home,

Happy as always

To rescue, to be helpful.

Now I don’t feel totally right

Contemplating living beings

Behind the bars of a cage, but

I love watching them, and taking care

Of them, everything is a living

Paradox, right?

These newly bought birds did

Sing at the top of their voice, but

With time passing, they gradually

Stopped, to the point of not emitting

A single sound, ever again. I noticed that

One of them seemed a little bruised,

And they strangely acted as if they’d

Get on every now and then,

Only to fight a moment later.

Last week one of the doors in their cage

Was left half open by mistake, and when I woke up,

One of the birds was gone for good.

My oldest kid cried a river, looked for the missing bird,

I felt so guilty for the mistake, we were sorry

For the remaining little birdie. But see,

This is when it becomes weird:

After less than two days our pensioneer

Started singing again, first in timid tomes,

And then, like this morning, at the top of his

Voice, like in the good ol’days.

And what is a prison became a shelter,

What was an abandoned creature became

A rescued singer, what was a mistake became

A liberating deed, what was a sorry little girl

Became a happy, relieved kid. And I was

Left with disturbing thoughts and swirling considerations

About how deep it is to share, yet how challenging it is

Too… We human beings act accordingly,

Flying high but also finding our wings are

Maimed by bad encounters, negative creatures.

I am sure we’ve all been there, touched by the grace

And hurt by the pain our fellow citizens of

The Earth can trigger and create, all around us.

We don’t always choose, but whenever we can,

Let’s make sure we wander far, far away

From the hurtful, let’s make sure also

We bathe and relish in the light of those

Who make us feel right and alive.

What would you do if money were no object?

With the arrival of autumn, colder weather and work priorities, I am switching into thinking mode, reflecting and planning, alternating flashbacks and flashforwards.

I have yet a few plans to hatch, and these days I’m stuck in this drug-free hippy dreamy moody zone, somewhere between urgent errands and wonderful-yet-kind-of-unrealistic plans.

I’ve always been flying high with no drugs, through heavy doses of sensitiveness and poetical inspirations. Music and words are my drug. And thoughts, and handcraft, and oh well, that long series of daily miracles that call for a pause so that we can simply remember to enjoy them, and be grateful for them.

I don’t pause enough these days.

And I stumble on this short video full of Alan Watts’ wisdom…Not such a simple question to ask, what would you do if money were no object? I would add, and if comparing yourself to others, trying to please or prove something was no object? If acting, deeply enjoying and living your life, if sharing and caring, were all that matters?

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one…:)

October moods

So this must be October moods…

I see so many places on the web

Where blogging friends

Declare their love for October….

This is no favourite of mine,

I love spring way better.

Yet I get lulled like tree leaves

By October winds, October cozy things,

October moods.

And I start writing lists of dreams, priorities,

Errands, plans, I go multi-tasking yet craving

For a long sleep by a long cold rainy night.

So this must be

October moods…

Without so much as a whisper

Without so much as a whisper

Summer has left.

Nay, the wind murmured,

No more bathing.

So we rushed to the beach

And had one final feast,

Ate sandwiches and played

In the water.

In the heart of summer,

What matters is

To play.

And play.

Comes autumn, what matters

Is…

To play, always.

Only a different game,

Gourmet and cosy,

Colourful and rhyming with

Plenty.

More tinkering

In the kitchen,

And always lots, lots of

Happiness

In a garden.

Flowing and flying

There were August, blue skies

And ice creams dipped

In swimming pool.

There were

Opera nights,

Merry-go-rounds that’d

Never stop,

A garden bidding

Ripening promises,

And this place where they run

Happily to the shore

And jump in,

Merrily, oh

So merrily.

And then I think

It all flies and flows,

It is all there

To shine and breathe.

It is all there to share

Each in our unique way,

On every unique day,

Sensing that what’s passing

Is what makes our

Very Fortune.