time

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The greatest luxury of modernity is Time.

Not working next Sunday. I never thought this day would come. I have so many plans: Get coconut oil in the hair, let it sit for 3 hours, maybe go shopping for a cake at the fair, get the toenails done, research masters degree on internet, watch a movie, read a few pages of Joseph Campbell, try some clothes, take some selfies, Who knows maybe get a little sun tan in the square, stalking some men online, making rituals for the eclipse, burning incense, painting eyebrows, painting canvas, write a book, chatting with twitter friends, playing guitar, recording some music, writing love letters and not sending them, analyzing the dreams I had in the week, get tobacco, send a message to family, meditate … afff… so many dreams …

The last night and lover in Ireland

 

 

There’s a kind of magic when you get in a bar and you see those pair of eyes, that you don’t know yet, but you feel that they will take you home. There’s a kind of magic in the recognition of two strangers who just know that they belong to each other, even for one night, even for a second. There’s a different brightness in the eye. There’s a silent contract. You look at the other, and you just know this is the one you came to meet. That’s why it was so strange to get to that conclusion, looking at those green-blue-grey eyes: they were 15 years younger, but they were mine. The second I saw him, I understood all that New Order has tried to say on Temptation. And I’ve never seen anyone quite like him before.

 

He was in Dublin for only one night, for the match. And I was in that same bar for my last night in Ireland. And our little story was the most adventurous thing that has ever happened to him so far. And maybe the sweetest to me. On the smoking area, I asked a young fella for a bit of tobacco. I genuinely had no interest on him, given his age. But started a conversation anyway, because that’s what you do in Ireland. My teenage lover was not that guy, but the one on the middle of the table, and I felt it as soon as I looked on his direction: there was the brightness, the secret contract, though he was so insecure, being even younger than the guy who gave me tobacco.

 

 

The small talk, quickly evolved to a deep one. And now I was this temporary character turned into a kind of guru, that would pass him all of my wisdom of a 34 years old woman, and we would laugh about all the topics I would choose: life, sex, drugs and other stuff that parents feel concerned about their kids on that age. In the middle of the jokes: kindness and attraction, which was sometimes weakened by thoughts of “is this really happening?”, that we would share without knowing.

 

“If I was your age, 19, I wouldn’t bring a 34 year-old home, unless he was Bradley Cooper… oh wait, am I your Bradley Cooper?”; “Yes, you are my Bradley Cooper”. I would find out later, he had searched for any ring or signs of marriage before he has tried, and has thought “Why would she come home to a 19 year old?”.

 

How could I say no? The boy, still growing, was taller than all the tall men I’ve ever had, piled one by one on top of the other, and he is a farmer. He lives in a farm in West Cork, a distant kingdom where there’s nothing but farms. There, he takes care of the cows, he collects their milk, he helps them giving birth to the calves. “So you are a… midwife?”; he would answer yes, with a sweet laugh. During the summer, he works in the shop to make some buck, even though his family has a life that is comfortable enough. In college, he studies to become a primary school teacher, and this is his dream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He, innocently, listened to my whole  34 years of life condensed into pillow talk. He listened to it with attention and presence, impressed by the crazy things life has to offer. When he thought something I’ve been through was really hard to me, he would hug me.  Even though my past experiences no longer have the power of hurting me, that was sweet. And I kept listening to his little things, the still innocent and unfolded life, delighted by the way life could be much simpler and only really gets complicated on our twenties. He’s still in a phase in which boys fall in love with girls for their looks. It takes a lot of maturity and experience to make the process elaborated enough so that the main reason on their teens is only an important detail on their 30s. But the fact that he’s made a choice of being talking to a woman rather than dancing to young girls in the club would give a glimpse of the type of kid he was. He was an old soul. He hated to be that young. He felt older.

 

 

He was my fourth and last man on the holidays marathon of one night stands in Ireland. I was the fourth woman in  his still fresh sexual life, even though in many ways, we knew I was his first. So we listened to Bob Dylan’s 4th time around by Yo La Tengo together. After our night, I saw myself going back home smelling like sex, remembering all the crazy years of youth, and singing our song in the bus. I found the energy to appreciate the fact that he has said the house in which he was staying was only 5 minutes walking from the centre, when, in fact, it was 15 minutes away by car! And for what I know about men, when they want to take you home,  their houses are never where they say they are: they are always either too far, or too close, depending on where they want to get you. I laughed remembering that this situation always reminds me on Strokes: “Can’t you see I’m trying, I don’t even like it, I just lied to get to your apartment”. And the men I loved most in my life, they have always lied about the distance to their houses.

 

 

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In bed, I asked what was the little medallion around his neck about. It was Holy Mary. As a child, he got very sick, really sick:”I had nothing left to lose, I thought ‘fuck it!, I’m gonna say a Holy Mary’, when I finished, I was perfect! Healed! I went to the kitchen and told my parents what had happened, they laughed at me, and from time to time, my father still mocks me up. I don’t care what they think, I know what I felt, I know what’s happened! ”  Almost impossible not to fall in love after that, almost impossible after the sweet kiss on the medallion while finishing his story.

 

 

It seemed like we had known each other for a thousand years, for that was so comfortable talking about anything.  “I don’t want to sleep because if I sleep, then I know that this night will be over.” I listened to that realizing that he didn’t even know how beautiful and poetic his words sounded. As if we were part of a fairy tale, when I was almost falling asleep, he would wake me up again, so we would not disappear.

 

 

From time to time, he would say, “I can’t stop remembering you singing ‘it’s too late’ in the taxi. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I don’t want to forget it! That’s so strange!”

 

We ended up disappearing into the night anyway,

I recorded him speaking two different things in Gaelic. One of them, I chose: The Holy Mary. The other one he chose and taught me to speak: it was the Gaelic version for
“There is no place like home.”

Only in Ireland…

 

As I finished my cheap meal in Centra, an old man came to me talking about my bag, on which its printed “Do what you love”. He takes off from his jacket some lyrics that he has worked on: it’s a version he’s made for Hallelujah of Leonard Cohen, from which he’s removed all the romantic stuff and replaced it with poetic words of motivation about finding your purpose and do what you love.

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As crazy as it can be, the words were not bad at all. He knew poetry, he knew Yeats, and it was so beautiful that I tried to memorize the maximum I could, for he didn’t let me take a picture for copyright reasons.

I ended up forgetting most of it. But something stayed tattooed in my mind:

“You were the dancer, the dancing and the dance
It should have always been a story, a life tale””

As I always say, to me, Dublin is the city of magic. And there are fairies all around.

Painting with your menstruation blood

Many of my friends know that one day, long time ago, while sober, I had a vision, of what may have been the 4th. Secret of Fatima? But as we live in different times and nobody believes that I am a shepherdess, at the time, that vision only served to make my ex believe I was schizophrenic and start the process of unloving me? Afff

But there’s no problem. In that vision, our lady of Fatima first came, then a shapeshifter woman who kept changing shapes with a lion, or a feline, I don’t know. Then I saw that monument of the four American presidents on the Mount Rushmore, but I could see only 1 face and it was Thomas Jefferson.  Then there was a word, but I could only see 3 letters: E, S, N.

I have told this story to my friends many times. But that’s not what I want to talk about now.  Months after that vision, I found myself in a very dark time of my life, when I decided to paint a painting, in a random style. When I finished, I had a lot of dark energy in the painting, and I could also see several faces of sad kittens or whatever, unprotected cats. It was such a heavy energy that when I took the picture of that painting, my cell phone broke AT THE EXACT TIME! The photo was on the screen and was erasing everything from the screen slowly. I SWEAR!

But now, years later and at a great moment of my life, I found it could be cool to make my first painting with menstruation blood. For our period blood is something sacred, and it’s good, sometimes, to give ourselves the time to tap into our feminine energy in a  deep way, and get in touch with this beautiful moment of the month that reminds us of our own nature and the seasons of a woman’s life and feminine parts.

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And totally random again, I painted. When it was done, I came to see which side I preferred, and that was it. I’m not sure  if it’s just me, or if you also see on the top right, on the whites, there’s a lion, and shapes of faces, and that stem to the upper right that goes ad-infinitum as if it’s coming from outside into the canvas, or as if it was going from the canvas to the outside space. I see lots of lion feats.

To me, it’s simply a message from the universe. What message could it be? I don’t know yet. But you know… the message in plastic arts communicates at the subconscious level. I just know that I think my painting is beautiful and I will protect it.

This is Led Zeppelin

What a beautiful band is Led Zeppelin, right? A long time ago, in my early twenties,  I had a cover band of Led Zeppelin, and I was Robert Plant, and I used lights on my hair and wore it curly, but I wouldn’t take off the shirt, for breasts reasons. Ah but our band was good. But ah, I had too much stage fright. How to be a cover band of led zeppelin having stage fright? And I took no drugs at the time, could not even get high. It was so good and so crap at the same time …

Just remembering that Led Zeppelin is a wonderful band and we only really learn to appreciate them deeply when we begin to have an interest in mythology, and middle age, and knights, and ladies, and Lord of the rings and game of thrones. Because if you are not interested in it, Led Zeppelin is just an awesome band with some awesome men. But when you know that Robert Plant is practically a faun who came from medieval age to write lyrics about alchemy and journeys on how to become a better man and kill dragons, and immigrate, and leave your land with the gods to conquer others, and Wait 10 years to find a lost love, and the seasons to which love goes through  … there you understand what Led Zeppelin came to add. Lol

I love you led zeppelin 

Game of Thrones – 1S a candid review

Just as this new season of Game of Thrones started, I’ve started to watch it for the first time. This week, as I completed my journey through the first season, a lot of friends on Facebook were mocking me all the time for some character I would like and get attached, not knowing that his end was always close. It seemed like veterans vs freshmen.  I will not give up, my friends, I will continue watching Game of Thrones.

But before starting the second season, I thought it would be cool to make a summary of the season 1 for those who haven’t seen and don’t want to see:

Resultado de imagem para game of thrones first season
It starts when a kid sees two siblings having sex. No big deal, right? Who never had sex with a sibling? But the siblings are the Royals, I don’t know. And when the boy is pushed from the top of the tower to die for what he saw, he decides to survive, oh boy why? humph! Children are a lot of work, aren’t them? Then the king will bother again with another children’s fight, and kill the other kid’s wolf. humph! I really wanted to have a paranormal wolf like that in my life. BUT GUYS: THIS IS A KIDS’ FITGH!!! My mother used not to pay any attention to it. But the Royals care.

Then there is a super young girl, in a really small body, And well, she has to marry a WONDERFUL 5 meters of man. OMG what a man! At first, he fucked badly, but then she teaches him, you know… everything sorted out.

There is a marvelous dwarf who, although not tall, we would go with him for a drink, all the girls would, for he speaks really well and would convince us. 

There is a madwoman there who still breastfeeds her 20-year-old child  (kidding: maybe 15), and the boy hangs on her shoulder wanting to eat. oh Man! Women, breastfeeding is beautiful, but right: there are limits! lol We won’t breastfeed anyone over 10, please. 

Soon the king’s friend, BEST MAN OF THE WORLD, is about to lose his head because he has scruples, but not the new king: a mean psychopath boy, who ordered to cut off the head of the best man of the world. I’m not even going to say anything, I’m still in tears. RIP WONDERFUL BEST MAN OF THE WORLD.

 

Best man of the world

 

Humph, I nearly forgot: there’s the mother, Catelyn, who…  God! if she had a Facebook account, I’m sure she would embarrass her kids on the internet night and day with some awkward showing ups on threads. That’s all I have to say about her.

And in the end, the 5 meters of man dies? Like ok: he did turn into a little zombie after he’s survived some infected wound, but then the small girl kills him? GIRL!!! YOU ARE NOT PREPARED FOR BOYS OF REAL LIFE. If I was going to kill every man I had that suddenly got emotionally unavailable, I would have turned into a serial killer. He’s a bit zombie? yes! but not really different from all those emotionally distant men we all saw in our lives. And what do we do with them? We just keep the relationship, getting crazy day after day, for he doesn’t give us half of the loving he used to, we ask them what happened, they say !nothing, that it’s all in our mind”, all that gaslighting… IT’S NORMAL, KHALEESI, YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO KILL HIM!!! =( 

 

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You see: not so different from the emotionally unavailable men that I had

 

Well, the small girl loses her son, her reign, everything,  but gives birth to 3 beautiful and healthy dragon.

AND THAT’S HOW EUROPE WAS BORN

 

 

Medication for depression or for self-deception?

I have seen many friends and family members lately taking medication for depression, and attending to psychiatrists. Some friends even compare the brands and types of tablets they take, some even find it cool. Brazilians love to say they’re taking medicine for depression.

Well, I’m not here to generalize nor judge. I came here just to give a testimony because I’ve been there, and yes, I have taken medicine, for the night I started taking it, the despair was so massive, that it was that or suicide. Anything is better than suicide, right? Even tablets for depression.

We are made by cells. But more than that, we are made up of parts even smaller than cells. But not only physically: mentally, psychologically and spiritually as well. We are made of several small little people who get together to form the whole, which we call an individual. The formula of water is H2O. Now play with the molecules. Take away only a hydrogen molecule from this formula to see what happens: it turns into hydroxyl: HO. Same way the difference between graphite and diamond is only the way the molecules of Carbon are grouped. I’m very geek, I know!

With: medication – without:  myself ( the last picture I took in the time of medication. You see! no need to say more)

But the point is: when we move these small parts of ourselves or when we reject them, and delete them from within us, what we are doing is completely reshaping the concept of us. And just as with the molecules, this has a price: Reject many parts of yourself, and you will lose your essence, turning into something else, anything else. Then, when we get into something else, we often don’t understand why we are so sad “even having everything to be happy,” we do not understand why we’re in the middle of the bar, listening to Daft Punk, being hugged by the man you love the most, and you can’t have fun, and by the way, you look all around and you just want to die.

You think you have a problem in your brain and that it cannot produce the hormones or neurotransmitters able to give you joy again. You ignorant, do not know you’re sad and miserable for a single hard truth: NO ONE CAN BE HAPPY WITHOUT HIMSELF. But you don’t know that putting all the unwanted little pieces of you in the garbage, you ended up with only a small percentage of yourself, and now you are miserable.

without: medication – with: myself

 

When I started with the tablets, it was the day I felt more empty of my own self, I was not there, my soul was gone, but I could not understand or point out the problem. I had rejected so many parts of me in order to live a great love story, that then I had a great love story, but I was not there to enjoy it. I had fired many “mes” from inside me.  I cannot blame anyone, the person I loved, also not understanding what was going on, did all he could. And from him I got the greatest advice of all: “baby – he said, lying in bed with teary and tired eyes  – when you’re in the loop of bad feelings, do the reverse way: if you feel guilty for making my life difficult with your bad moment, know that I’m fine, it’s fine, then remove the guilt away from your shoulders. Then what comes before this feeling? Is it the frustration for not being well? look for the solution: accept that things take time, and take the frustration away from your shoulders. And do the reverse loop, and one day you will get the exact cause of this, will remove from your shoulders, and will get back to the point before the depression. ” He was so right! The exact cause, though, would need a blood sacrifice: our separation.

But it would still take some months before it happened. Until then, it was just a complete lack of understanding of myself and the world. I took the medicine. It was a desperate dark night in which I just wanted to stop that agony. And the medication helped me to keep alive for one night. And then for days, but it sucked when it turned into months.

Unable to understand what was going on and being totally ignorant about self-healing or self-awareness, I took the medicine to make it easier to others the burden of dealing with me. I would numb myself, I was in the air: a way of never really solving the problem. Tablets only made me being ok in not feeling whole. You don’t take medicine to cure depression, but to accept that you have depression. When we finally ended the relationship, the first thing I did was throwing that box away, I always felt that whatever I was feeling, I really needed to feel it with all of my heart, so then I could understand why and where that pain came from, and find my way back from graphite into diamond.

It takes a lot of willpower and courage to look inside ourselves in moments like this, because usually, it’s  so dark. It takes a lot of bravery to be able to see in ourselves the things we don’t want to see, our shadow, our ugly side. I realized that I kept the label of depression for a while because it put me in a very comfortable position: “I wouldn’t have to fight for life: I had depression. I will stay here in my little corner enjoying my miserable self, and I hope you to understand”. Buying that label, I had thrown away another part of me: my hero. Also, I, in my medicated depression, got the laziness to live, lazy to strive, to make or keep friendships. And then, I also complained of loneliness. What a wonderful vicious circle. But when we’re in the shit, we do not know.

No one likes to suffer, but do you really think that if the pain had no use for us as species, we would still feel it? No, friends, pain is a great partner, a great friend: pain, sadness, dissatisfaction is what moves the world: it shows us what we don’t want for our lives, and stays with us until we get the other life we really want. The snake, if it doesn’t change the skin, it rots. Each stage of your life will demand another different version of you, and it’s not taking medicine what will help turn whatever you are into what you need to become. The medication only keeps you ok in wanting to grab the un-updated version, that is already in the past time. What will turn your sorrow into a friend and not an enemy, is to stay present with it, and listen to all your littles “yous”, and what they want from you. Bring back those ones you’ve fired and shine bright like a diamond.