Sunday, August 10, 2008

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Under the Baobá's shade

Once upon a time there was a foot. A tough foot, I must say, ready to confront the bitterness of the world and able to regenerate. But as the world is really though, some help is always appreciated.


One day, the foot met a nice black boot. Black and made of cow’s leather. After a long life giving milk and feeding others, the boot accepted a whole new life who was introduced to it - protecting feet. That’s life, one cycle ends and another begins.


Foot and boot became good friends, where one protects the other, giving a meaning for being together.




However, as most of relationships have surprises and good moments, some deceptions happens as I will tell you as follows:


The foot was protected by the heat, dust and wind, but isolated from the sun and fresh air.
It was a good fellow, but… it smells a bit bad. The boot helped the foot but got back a bad smell as reward. And some rewards are hard to get rid of.



On the other hand the boot was used and dirty now, it wasn’t so comfortable anymore. Besides foot loved their conversation, but now it needed a new shelter.
One day, the foot got a ride, together with the boot, on a long trip.


As man spoils nature, he can’t control its power.


While the car was driving by that straight and dusty road along the savannah, the foot begged for a break, needing some fresh air. The boot could also get some rest, or at least it was what the boot thought. By the way, it says that the boot was the smelly one.


Suddenly, was decided that boot would retire. And, in the middle of the savannah, they threw the boot on the pickup’s rear. There, boot was feeling lonely. The foot kept in silence, while mouths and noses whispered gossips about the poor boot : - Could you smell that? It is too old, it can be used anymore!


The road was full of holes and knolls, the car jumped at each hole and the boot couldn’t hold itself.


(to be continued...)

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

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Julestjerne

”All images passes through my eyes. One by one, back and forth. I can’t find the chapter I missed. It is gone. Could be a silly attitude or just an unspoken word. Doesn’t matter anymore. It is done.

Then I look through your eyes. Maybe I can find them there. No, not a sign. Happiness and desire were gone, all gone.

Trying once more, I have a glimpse of hope. Oh, it was just my iris reflecting yours.

My fears grow, each minute, each second, while you are away. They eat me alive like the old ladies drinking their Low Tea and eating pastries. Slowly and painfully. Disguising their suffering from a mediocre life without joy and pleasure. Swallowing their tea as they swallowed all the words not spoken. Nodding their heads with a yellow smile printed on their made up faces. Trying to wash the lump in their throats with hot tea. Hopeless. Their griefs are implanted, hard to remove.

Alone as I’ve never been before. A quiet loneliness surrounded by people, and forbidden to shout how miserable I feel. - Come on, girl! You are not alone – they say.

It isn’t true. But they say what it is convenient.

My loneliness, where I am trapped on my own shell. A shell used as a shield on the beginning, but it became my own disgrace. My loneliness where there is no way in, just out, and out is the final cut. Stuck. Bleeding. Wondering. Fearing. Smashing. Drying. Like the thousands of julestjerne I forgot to water because of my disposable and supposed happiness.”

Saturday, July 7, 2007

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Granny and Diane de Poitiers

Some years ago, talking to my grandma Monique, I told her about a dream I 've had.

I was on a castle, surrounded by water. Even now I remember all the details. The green garden, the river passing under the castle, the grey walls. I was there.

Granny Monique loved history and René Descartes. She s
miled and says:

- Let's find out which castle was that.

She got a pictures book about castles around the Loire River. Showing me the pictures she told me that Loire is her favourite place on earth.

As she turn the pages, I got a shock . There, in front of me, the castle of my dream. Chenonceau Castle. A dejavú hits me hard, and at that moment I was sure I’d been there in the past.

Granny, decartian and besides her catholic beliefs, used to tell us about our ancestors the Celtics and Atlantis. The reason of that was the region she came from: Aurignac, a small village on the bottom of Pyrenees.


I told her about my deja vu. She looked at me, not surprised at all, and said:

- Oh! This castle belonged to Henri II ’s mistress: Diane de Poitiers. Let’s find out more about her!

She got a thick book from the shelf and says:

- There it is!

*”
Remembered as a beautiful woman, she had a nice figure, and maintained her good looks well into her fifties, which was immortalized in art. Only two signed paintings by the great artist Francois Clouet are known to exist, one being a painting of Diane. The subject of that painting shows her seated nude in her bath. She sat for other paintings of the time, often topless or nude, other times in traditional poses. All seem to depict a vibrant and attractive woman. Diane possessed an extreme intellect and a political astuteness to the point that the King trusted her to write many of his official letters, and to even sign them jointly with the one name: HenriDiane. She was, in fact, the "brains behind the throne", and even in charge of the royal children's education. She was extremely confident, and her maturity and loyalty to Henri II made her his most dependable ally in the court. Her position in the Court of the King was such that when Pope Paul III sent the new Queen Catherine the "Golden Rose", he did not forget to present the royal mistress Diane with a pearl necklace. Within a very short amount of time she wielded considerable power within the realm. The king's total adoration for Diane caused a great deal of jealousy on the part of Queen Catherine, particularly when Henri entrusted Diane with the Crown Jewels of France, had the Château d'Anet built for her, and gave her the beautiful Château Chenonceau that Catherine had wanted for herself. However, as long as the king lived, the Queen was powerless to change this. **********************************************************************

Granny looked at me and with a smile:
- Perhaps you were Diane on your earlier life… who knows?

I nodded, blushing:
- hm hm...

After many years searching for Diane, I got surprised when I saw her emblem: the three interlaced crescents, the Triple Goddess, the original trinity, the three faces of the Great Goddess .

______________________________________________________
*text about Diane de Poitiers extracted from Wikipedia.

Saturday, April 7, 2007

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Twilight

In the city, amid noises, I see the lights blurred. Not clear at all, completely distorted. I squint, trying to see clearly. Total myopia. That always happens in this time, when the two worlds meet each other. The brightness and the darkness. The twilight. Totally without focus, I realize that what I was searching were only flashes of a distant dream. The images of the city and his blurred smile become one distant image.

Now I see it distorted, wrapped in a fog of sarcasm.

I try to squint again trying now to find something besides those cold words. No, without answer. The distance is still the same. I try one more time, grabbing the hope and the memory of a happy day.

Funny faces and mouths. Of sweetness..... No. I do not see any more..... It was disappearing, as well as the sun in the twilight and the arrival of the night.

Lorig

Flying on places I’ve never been before, but I did dream once. That’s how I feel when I listen your music. A peaceful and quite place, with a deep blue sky and some white clouds, just to give a special touch on that neverending blue. It mesmerizes me. While the music plays I build a mandala on my mind. Its guided the music. Following the notes, one by one. I might clearly see a Tibetan Monk, which patiently draws the curves on the sand, with no intention to reach someone else's soul. The maze is building after the notes and when is done, when the music stops it reaches my soul.

I can't sleep wishing the music doesn't stop, listening it over and over again. It shows me a piece of your cosmos. And I enjoy that like when you enjoy a good red wine, or being around the nature, or on a snowing day. I like what I see and feel. A prism, a small light of something brighter and shiny that ordinary ears can not hear and eyes can’t see. Time and distance don’t mean a thing. Now I feel like a child, seconds later I am the mother, and the wise woman. And this where your music gets me…. Past, present, future. Without limits of time, nor barriers just Freedom.

Alice in the Desert

Walking between the apple trees, suddenly I found myself on the middle of the desert.

A cat, with deep blue eyes, welcomed me with a warm smiling.

He said, in a sweet voice, that I am in the Afeghanistan desert. I could feel the sand hitting my face and the sun burning my skin. But I don’t really care, ’cos the wild cat keeps our conversation intelligent and fascinating that I am oblivious to everything else.

I listen to his stories about mermaids in love and the moon’s bastard son. He entertains me, has a contagious laughter and a dervishes wisdom. He sings songs and amuses me with his sweet words.

He pulls out a small box from his pocket – yeah! He wears camouflage pants! When he opens the box, a gold powder, shinny like the sunlight, cover my face. He put away the rest of the powder in the box. Says it will be used on my next visit. I feel dizzy, nimble and my heart full of happiness.

I close my eyes with pure ecstasy. Feel someone touching my shoulder. I open my eyes and find myself next to the apple tree. I can feel the green grass under my feet. The reality is green, but the desire is dry and warm. Between my fingers some grains of golden sand.

Clearwater's Kingdom

It was a black forest, its floor littered with toadstools that were exploding on contact. The vegetation was so thick that light was not penetrating in. Aislinn walked along a narrow and unending path. The thorny bushes along the path were hurting her, leaving purple marks all over her. It was hurting, but she was holding out since she had a definite purpose. And yes it was to admire the beauty of the tall trees and green leaves. She had an unshakable faith and an instinct that I would soon reach the end of the track. Aislinn was feeling lonely at this distant and totally alien place but kept on walking.

Finally Aislinn reached the end of the track and saw a farm with green pasture. However there was no house. This was a bit strange but she continued to follow the track.

Then she saw a waterfall.

A cascade of clear water and a microcosm of infinite complexity. Thousands of being living in this strange place. The path was dividing the waters, fresh water from the salt water, the sea and the river. Because it was a narrow path, it was easy for the dolphin to jump from a one side to the other. Muireadhach was his name.

And so I was delighted and was amused. The path was narrow but very green. The water was clear and blue - Aquamarine blue.

People started arriving to enjoy it… But now Aislinn was the protector of those waters. It was so delicate that even the foot steps were enough to frighten the small animals. The whole rhythm of that microcosmos would be shaken if a crowd would arrive. She passed days listening to the sound of the waters and it was whispering wise advices.

Muireadhach kept amusing her playing and jumping from one side to the other … Now she was calling him Muir. It was telling me stories from across the sea … coming from a distant world, princes and princesses, knights, fairies and bad witches, how to take care of some plants, or prepare her meal. He was not speaking much about himself.

Aislinn was sleeping in the grass, under the starlit sky and didn’t find it bothersome. She was living on the food that Muir was bringing of distant lands. Her love for Muir was strong now and she devoted herself more to that place.

Then one day the sun stopped shining. The fishes disappeared. Muir did not appear any more. Aislinn did not know the reason. Perhaps she did something wrong. Lack of care? Didn’t I plow the land straight?, didn’t I water the plants, did’t I give enough attention to Muir?? Her light, as well as her health was fading.

People were entering and having a great time in what it was remaining of the clear waters.

Muir may not have realised the happiness she felt while he shared his stories.

After three weeks of darkness and coldness, after building a safe shelter, she decided to get out of that sadness. Aislinn started to plant tulips, since they were well suited for that cold climate. She planted tulips all over, around the waterfall, in the boundaries of the farm. There were tulips all over.

She concentrated her strength in restoring the place abandoned by Apollo and ignored by Afrodite, working the hard and dry land. Now the place that was dried up once, became more alive, dazzling in intense colours like a picture of Renoir. What was made beautiful by nature, became a perfection of her own hands.