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.”

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.

When relationships turn into The Emperor’s New Clothes

Hi friends!  In today’s program, I’ll talk about something that I see my friends doing a lot. I won’t judge them, for who am I to judge,  if I was like this until yesterday:

I just want to remind you that we spend a lot of time and a lot of life energy projecting into love relationships and into another person our own energy, vitality, sense of existence and passion. And then when they are not around for 5 minutes, we see that we’ve actually built up an empty life for ourselves with no passion: because that’s what the human being does: we find another human being to entertain and distract ourselves and we enter into the mental and emotional loops of the other so we don’t have to deal with the complexity of our own being. And then we get depressed, thinking that we are in an abusive relationship and (and sometimes we are). But most of the times, we ourselves are the ones who abuse our own being: getting out from a relationship to enter into another as we change clothes not to see who we really are when we get naked. In the end, we have been naked all the time, like in The Emperor’s New Clothes.

 

So we set that relationship as the most important thing in life, and maybe the only thing in life. Then we don’t try to find out what we like, what career to follow, what gives us pleasure, we don’t make an effort to keep a friendship circle etc. We think we’re safe from the world. And then when that relationship ends, we look around, and we see ourselves in a shit job,  no friends, we don’t do and have never done anything that gives us pleasure, we haven’t progressed at all. We have done nothing for ourselves.

Remember: It’s very good to have someone, but even better to have yourself.

kisses of light

Be the friend you didn’t have

They say there is no past, present and future. It’s all just one thing, that goes all together on quantum levels and such. They also say we are all connected, they say we are one.

So I thought about the people that we see today going through the same shit that we once experienced and had no one on our side to say how to do it or at least give a shoulder and make it easier… Ever wondered if when we decide to be for this person the friend that we didn’t  have, we are actually finding ourselves in a quantum slit and then giving ourselves the friend we didn’t have when we needed?

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There was a moment in my life when I was absolutely alone in the world going through some very heavy stuff and it was too much for one person to handle, I found myself totally alone and isolated. I ended up surviving, of course, because that’s what we do.

Months later, there was another moment in my life when I was totally broken but this time, two angels came into my life carrying me along with their sweet instant friendship. And that made all difference.

So now when I see someone going through the same troubles I’ve been through, I try to be for him/her the friend I couldn’t find when I was the person in trouble alone.  Like, “You’re not going to go through this alone. Not in my shift. ” And I think that this is really it? It seems like suddenly I, somewhere in time, find the friend I did not have when I needed most years ago, and all of a sudden, I get all the other good things and open doors that come along when someone is with us in a moment of pain. Try it. It’s very good.

What we give to others is what we give to ourselves.

kisses of light

When best friends die

I was just listening to New Order and remembering that when I was in college, I lived with a lot of people in a CRUSP manhole. I say manhole, because, Jesus … there were so many cockroaches flying around all the time …

I lived with the world’s poorest people. I was also deprecated. They were 2 Goths and I loved them. They spent the whole day in their black clothes, and they also slept like that. I used to say, “How do you guys sleep in the very same clothes you’ve spent the day?” And they would say, “How do you spend the day in the very same clothes you’ve spent the night?” Because I spent the days in pajamas, I was famous for that and I did not see any problem in going to class like that either.

Well, I just know we loved each other a lot. And we spent the days and nights listening to some Smiths, Joy Division and New Order tapes. Sometimes we would hear Enya as asleep, kind of trying to feel peaceful. Mariana was my best friend, and she would caress my back until I fell asleep, as if I was a cat. Sometimes Luizemara of Geology would tell me stories of how the planets worked, that I listened as a child listens to fairy tales at night. And I guess the universe really loved me, putting so many good people in my life!

One day, I went to see a job, and Mariana went to take me to the bus stop. From the bus window, I yelled, “When I get home, I’m going to make you a vanguard hairstyle.”  I would never see her again. She died at the age of 18. And that silly promise was the last thing I said. Nothing amusing, nothing wise, nothing that could have made a special moment in her life.

Sometimes when I’m sad, I think, “What would Mariana give now for the chance of being sad again? What would Mariana do if she was alive now? “And then I hear Smiths and New Order. This is what she would surely be doing.

For you, Mariana, wherever you are, all my love.

“And I’ve never seen anyone quite like you  before”

Us Witches

It has been a long time since we, as human species, lived in a matriarchal society. In that tribal society, they had a ritual of procreation, for as we know well, women living together menstruate together. In that ritual of copulation, on certain nights of the month, beautifully synchronized with some phase of the moon, men and women would attend with the intention to procreate. And they did.

One day, as it was expected, that would happen sooner or later: a woman dared not to want to attend to the rituals. That was a matriarchal society, so instead of burning the woman alive or killing her for refusing to perform the “military service,” the tribe only expelled the woman from society: if she did not agree in playing that role that was so important to the group, It didn’t make sense for her and for them that she continued to be part of it. Fair enough.

Gypsy

The woman left alone into the woods to live by her own fate. And that’s when it all started: In the forest, alone, without the protection of the group, nor of men with their hunting and defense techniques, the woman found herself only relating to her thoughts and nature. Without domesticated dogs to help her hunt, the woman domesticated the cat. The cat is, by excellence, the animal that the woman has tamed. The cat could bring her small animals to eat … mice and other hunts. During the day, the woman slept in safe places, and at night, guided by the moon and its phases, the woman spent most of her time awake because she dealt better with the predators of the night. Her menstruation was no longer synchronized with the group, nor was her desires.

Without the farming advantages of the group, the woman ate what she found, and learned what wild plants are good to be eaten, which ones can kill, which ones will heal, which tree bark is medicinal, which one opens portals in the mind and universe. The woman became wild, and yet, and perhaps because of this, a healing specialist.

In the tribe, if someone was very sick, and they had no one else to turn to, they remembered that the woman who was expelled and lived in the forest, she knew herbs, she knew what to do. They took the patient to see her. He would come back healed. She was magical. The woman communicated with nature, because she had no one else to communicate. And the way nature tells animals that a tsunami is coming, nature told the woman things that others could not see ahead. And then it was learned that the woman saw the future. The woman lived alone, no children, no friends, only her cats, her intuition and her telepathy with the divine.

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The women who lived in the group were happy and fit, with their children and rules, and families. The woman in the forest was a rebel. A mystery. Sometimes, in the forest, a man would show up, looking for the woman. He would be dissatisfied with the society in which he lived, but without the courage to say no. And he fell in love with the forest woman. And their quick affair was the closest he got from being a rebel. Then, like the sick returning from the forest, the man would also get back, also cured of the slight doubt he had for a moment: to be himself or to be the group. He would return to the group as the dog returns to its owner’s house.

I will not say that the woman in the forest did not suffer. She was dying. But she also knew the healing to raise herself from the dead. Everything was in her kitchen. As time goes, men come and men go, sick come and sick go, while she perceives her place in the world. She was the healer. She would never be on the procreative wheel. She lit the fire inside those who had no fire burning inside. One day she herself would be burned alive at a campfire, but that is another story.

After struggling and often finding herself desiring to have the same wishes and be like the people of the tribe, who want things that could guarantee her a quiet less solitary life, she begins to understand that her happiness is different from the happiness of others. At this point, her cats arrive with little mice, which she eats, then she drinks tea that she knows has the power of taking away all thoughts about those who have left. She knows that everything, in the end, is wind. And that’s fine.

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Get Back Blackout!

There is one thing that modern life has taken away from us and I really miss: Blackouts! It’s a pity that you young people will not have more opportunity to see how cool it was when there was lack of electric light: the candles, the images that we projected on the wall with the candlelight. The long waiting for the return of the light, which then progressed to simply enjoying each other’s company. The fear of going into the kitchen alone and finding a lost soul wandering or staring at you. Little Johnny would pick up the guitar to sing. Jaysus, how Little Johnny played terribly. Then we talked about some problem to solve, and all of us would concentrate, without being distracted. The older ones in the farm told stories. The children easily had fun because the good thing about being a kid is having fun with anything.

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I had plans, one day, when I have children, to make a deal with someone to sporadically, without warning, to turn off my circuit breaker, without anyone knowing, of course, because the good thing about lacking light is that you do not know when it is going to go and when it is going to get back. In my head, we would happily love each other a lot.