friendship?

someone asked me once what friendship is.... it's definitely not something easy to define, it's rather felt in the heart, felt and lived. Friendship is life lived together with its good and bed moments, it's hope shared, it's dreams talked about and built together...
Friendship is tears wiped from your face by some fingers, it's a warm and smiling face, friendship is direction- knowing where you can turn for advice, support and fun. Friendship is about, above all, giving, about intuitively knowing the other's feelings and sympathising with them.
Friendship is not being alone, is not crying or laughing alone....Friendship is not being down under the too heavy burdens. friendship is not about being selfish, about fixing some goals to achieve and then just heading towards them alone, friendship is not shutting yourself away, friendship is not lying.

Friendship should always be expectations achieved, accomplished, otherwise, the relationship becomes just a utopic, idealistic "could be"... and the one expecting smothing from it would be just an idiot, naive and immature nerd...

revelation

The raindrops running down the windows of the French hall were tapping a mad dance... a rhythm that in itself was pure art form, an art so longed for by the young sitting in the light. Her book aside was left open to some lines of splendid beauty, lines whose meaning and innuendoes triggered in her the very memories of what once meant passion of heart.

She rembered her love, the one and only love she decided to put aside, to lock away from all human mind and witty spirit. She knew bravery, or strong will had nothing to do with her reclusion... It was just a state of spirit, a role she had to be playing for a while... self imposed or not, her lonely and so reluctantly understood mood, gave birth to deeper feelings and thoughts she could have ever imagined. It was as if suddenly a black veil had been lifted from upon her eyes. Reality seemed crystal clear now- people were depossessed of their masks, their soul was like a naked skeleton revealing everything to her sharp sense of knowledge and observation. The world in itself was there just to reveal more aspects like a rose would open and reveal its every single petals to the delighted eye, in the light and warmth of the July morning sun.

Looking back over the last year, she finally found the meaning of love- love is not happiness as they all use to say, love is suffering, and through suffering love is healing and knowledge. Love was meant for her, or any other sensible person just to bring deeper understanding of the world, wisdom and patience... once you suffered the tourments of love, you end up seeing the import of reason. Heart is there to tease and torment the weak mind, to make it stronger, sharper and much more analythical.

a farewell

The dark seconds of time parted the ones I love from me, the present being just a solitary statue of clay- cold, worthless and meaningless....

.............................................



Time has been quite cruel lately taking away precious people in my life, taking away their smiles, their wittiness, leaving behind just shadows and shiverings and loneliness. A certain word, the opening of a door , the expectation to see that person but then nothingness, just a cold void strangling you, leaving you dead and bare inside...

healing

feelings are certainly the hardest to fight against. How can you murder and then bury your feelings? Is it possible? or maybe, without being watered with hope those feelings will just die away like the leaves of trees in late fall? Is it time, in the end, that can kill what you feel or are there other feelings necessary to replace the old ones?.....

darkness falls...

Has it ever happened to you to be so blind and not see the signs that life has put forth along the way? You pass by, like a sleepwalker and you can't or won't see them; but they were there all the time. You keep remembering the smiles, the good words, the warm looks that person set on you, but you ignore all th erest- a word left unspoken, avoidance, the loss of interest, discussions never to be finished, topics never to be touched- all there, just to tell you straight in the face: "I don't want you around, I don't you to be part of my life!"

But in the end, I guess, we are BLIND because we don't want to lose our HOPE, blindness thus becomes synonym with hope. Ant you desperately try to hold on to your disease, because as long as you are blind you don't lose hope. Once you are cured of your blindness, hope fades away. We generally use to think and say that blindness is darkness as opposed to light and truth. But then, what sustains hope better - darkness/ blindness or truth / light? When do we most need hope?- When we are blind..., therefore the one that feeds hope the most is darkness. It's while walking blindly in the darkness that you see the tiniest flicker of light as a huge amound of hope. And you start believing that you can turn the feeble light of a candle into the melting overpowering light of the sun.

.... and you fail to realize that ain't possible.

That's your sin...

the beauty in us....

The beauty of the world is there open so generously to us.... the beauty of life is in us, in everybody's inner self. That beauty, though, needs to be let out.

There were times like the Renaissance, when that inner beauty and value needed and meant time and patience to be discovered... Such a spiritual voyage could take years- a voyage to discover the other- probably one of the hardest and most astinishing exploration, the exploration of the human soul.

But back then, time didn't mean money as it does now, so that voyage took even ages, it seemed, but in the end the prize was priceless.

Nowadays there's no time for that anymore, those have become trifles. Why waste timetalking to someone about things that should really matter? We have given up exploring the human soul, exploring the other, to take up exploring the universe.

Quite ironical, isn't it? We no longer know the one next to us, the friends even, but we aspire to conquer the universe...
Where is that curiosity to know the anatomy of the other's soul and mind? I long for that, I long to be discovered and to discover someone else's dream and aspirations, but also fears and flows... Why are we so afraid to show ourselves the way we really are???

Brav out Breizh !

France.... un mot qui contient toute la beaute du monde... un pays superbe qu'on aime le plus pour ses gens, pour la culture, pour la bonte de l'ame. La pensee seule a la France et je me laisse emportee par les sons de la Fest Noz, bien lois dans un coin de paradis- au Bretagne. Sur le petites ruelles des villages marins, entouree par le parfum sale de la mer sauvage, parmi les vagues, le vent et l'amour, les eglises en pierre et les menhirs de Carnac.... Une splendeur bien profonde qu'on pourrait jamais oublier, une splendeur de la simplicite, de la tenacite, de l'endurance. On n'a jamais assez de France, de ses contes et legendes, de ses forets et plages, de ses sourires toujours la pour toi, de ses chansons traditionnelles, de ses fetes de nuit pleines de la joie de vivre et de vivre sa vie a cote des amis.

On n'a jamais assez de Paris- ville des lumieres, de la boheme, des promenades a la tombee du soir, a la musique de l'accordeon, et au parfum du lilas.... la France est ou on decouvre l'amour, c'est la qu'avec son fiance on se promene sans fin...

wings

Tonight, the birds are flying more savagely and wildly than ever, carried away by the mad wind. The sky, mirror of the soul carshes itself against the world with its thickness and darkness. It's becoming too heavy to carry on just one's shoulders.....

Loneliness strangles, but breathlessly and painfully you continue your way just like Jonathan Livingstone, the seagull continued its flight. And alone, somehow stronger in your solitary voyage, and yet so much weaker, you go on, just hoping that maybe other solitary wandering soullike you would join you in your voyage, just hoping that your solitary endeavour had found its end.
But then you look up at the sky- the mirror of your soul and you see it's crying. You see its dark, dull colours- those of your life and you start longing for blue and light, and life, and someone....

rain falls like tears from the stars....

It's been raining for a couple of hours, and yet I feel as if fall has entered my soul, a chilly, frightening fall, heavy with salty rain and cloudy thoughts- a sky forever hiding its beauty behind a dull, dark curtain of misery

How can I go on,
from day to day
Who can make me strong in every way
Where can I be safe,
where can I belong
In this great big world of sadness
How can I forget
those beautiful dreams that we shared
They're lost and they're nowhere to be found
How can I go on?

the road nowhere

there is a fight going on... it's between us and God. It's, apparently, a matter of pride. Since the very beginning we have been given this Earth to treasure and respect, and since the same very beginning we seem to obstinate ourselves in destroying it. Everything that was once so splendidly full of life and beauty, so promising and alive is now deserted, empty, dry of any meaning . And as if this weren't enough people have started now to destroy the inner natural- feelings, hopes, ideals.... People no longer dare to express openly what they feel, because once you open your true self, you become vulnerable- you get hurt, others take advantage of your feelings, and in time you turn to stone. It's the easiest and most logical thing possible. And then you come up with your own rules- harsh ones, restricting ones for you as well as for the others. And if these rules are broken this becomes then the unimaginabale crime ever. It's not that bad that everywhere you turn your eyes you see human debris, but your crossing the street on red becomes definitely unacceptable. Then it seems that our pitiful laws and rules are much more important in our eyes than respecting nature, life and beauty. God's laws are forgotten because we want to feel better in our new role as masters. We have the power and hence we set the rules, no matter who gets hurt in the process.

question

Has it ever happened to you to fall in love with a guy who in his turn has fallen in love with someone else? Well it has happened to me... this brings me to the impossible love that tears me apart. Do I tell him or do I just give up the entire idea as I already know what the end is?
Well, as I'm terribly coward when it comes to love, i will probably keep it to myself. It's no use riscking to lose what I have so far for a dream. Dreams are meant to fail anyway, so why invest in them? Especially when intuition tells me this would be just a one way trip...

Anyway if more about this topic is to come that would be in French, as French seems to help me better get it out

pluie

Se promener seule dans la pluie a la nuit, entouree par le vent d'ete- c'est comme l'amour. Le vent, c'est la caresse douce du bien aime sur ton visage sur ta peau brulante. Le parfum du foin, de la chaleur humide et la pluie, c'est le parfum du bien aime, le parfum de son regard, c'est son ame et son amour pour toi.
Donc se promener seule n'est pas si moche que ca, c'est en effet se promener avec son bien aime car la nature- la pluie, le vent t'entourent tout comme les bras de celui que toi tu aimes.

a better self

One of the greatest vanities is to think you can make people better. They are the way they are and will become better, that is if they become better, only if they decide to. Otherwise all the good intentions you might have are doomed to become ashes, and your fall will be greater. Everytime we settle our hopes on someone, blindingly believing that person could start having the same dreams and ideals just because you have them for him/ her there will come one day when all those ideals of turning the world, or just a single person better will crumble all around you just like the multiple puzzle pieces of a broken mirror. And everytime you start gathering all those pieces in an attempt to recreate your world, it's gets hellishly hard. You finally come to understand the Sisiphus's myth, and you finally see that's life- ups and downs, probably more downs, but anyway as long as you find the guts and strength to start picking puzzles again , there is still hope.

brancusi

.... words are powerless to utter eternity. let your self engulfed by the breath of true art and aspiration, feeling the warm chill of marble, its whiteness almost transparent and simple as a virgin soul....

puzzling

Has it ever happened to you to lay your hands on a book that was so intriguingly capturing that you can no longer leave it behind...? Yesterday i must confess something i no longer thought possible happened. Quite often lately nothing has been able to draw me into it as it used to before... but then Eugene Van Itterbeek's "Journal Roumain" did the miracle. As one might as well guess from the title the book is about the impressions and feelings that Romania has aroused in the heart and mind of a foreigner. The pages are quite a lesson some of us have needed for a long time now, it's about the miraculous beauty in simplicity that Romania has. It is quite shocking to see the richness and complexity of Romanians, their simplicity and still depth of spirituality.
There's no room for superficial here, God and nature are all omnipresent in people's minds leaving deep traces in everything they do in their daily lives, carving their character, building their personality.

Besides, the Romanian villages seem like some oasis of the past- full of deep significance, purity and God; their beauty is so mystic and lost in the Western civilisation, and so regretted by Mr. Itterbeek... and so searched and longed for by many who come here to find themselves....

reading his lines made me wonder- why do we sometimes so obstinately think what we don't have is so much better? Why so many of us dream of promised lands, of superficial, material things, when the obvious is we have something valuable, a unique treasure that riscks to be lost or praised by others only, while so derided by us who own it?

pensees...

je crois avoir connu l'amour et malgre ce qu'on en dit generalement , c'est pas tres agreable... ca plutot heurte et donne de la souffrance... est-ce pour ca que les ecrivains en ont ecrit tellement? ca semble a la pomme d'eve et d'adam- la pomme de la connaissance- une fois qu'on en a goute il laisse un gout amere mais sublime. c'est la vie et la mort , la joie supreme, mais aussi les soupirs, les espoirs decus, les reves si proches de la realite qu'on pense les pouvoir saisir dans notre main, comme on pourrait faire a un pomme, par exemple. quand tu connais pas l'amour, il te manque, une fois que t'as ouvert ton ame a l'amour il laisse de traces profondes pour toujours. Et donc alors, on commence a se demander: a quoi ca sert? a quoi bon l'amour si tout ce que ca emmene c'est pas la grande joie et l'exuberance?
a quoi ca sert, sinon, peut-etre, a mieux comprendre ce monde, a mieux se maitriser, a apprendre la patience...

the only poem i remember having studied at school at Spanish... it's quite superb and full of imagery...

ANDALUZAS
CANCIÓN DEL JINETE

Córdoba. Lejana y sola.
Jaca negra, luna grande,
y aceitunas en mi alforja.
Aunque sepa los caminos
yo nunca llegaré a Córdoba.

Por el llano, por el viento,
jaca negra, luna roja.
La muerte me está mirando
desde las torres de Córdoba.

¡Ay qué camino tan largo!
¡Ay mi jaca valerosa!
¡Ay que la muerte me espera,
antes de llegar a Córdoba!

Córdoba. Lejana y sola.

decue

L'amour...l'une des choses les plus incredibles du monde, incredible par son caractere unique, par son pouvoir de transformer les gens... c'est en effet tout ce qu'on reve depuis notre naissance- dans une forme ou une autre.... Helas, il'y n'a que peu ceux qui puissent se vanter l'avoir vraiment connu pendant leur vie.
l'amour c'est la musique qu'on entend, c'est le parfum sublime des fleur a l'aube, c'est la mer et son gout sale, c'est le regard profond de celui qu'on aime, c'est la beaute de son esprit... et pourtant l'amour n'est plus qu'un reve, un reve qu'on garde pour soi. L'amour est lourd, lourd des larmes et soupirs, etouffant et etranglant a meme temps. il y a pleins de mots ecrits sur l'amour et pourtant je doute qu'il ait personne qui puisse le definir vraiment. Serait-il, peut-etre, parce que si peu de gens l'ont connu vraiment? et qu'une fois connu, l'amour est si parfait, si celeste qu'on ne trouve plus les mots pour l'exprimer?

For you...

some lyrics from Queen... just as a reminder of what we are, what our mission is.... and should be. It really makes me look around and see what we do every day- hurting the ones we care about, hurting the Earth...

Just look at all those hungry mouths we have to feed
Take a look at all the suffering we breed
So many lonely faces scattered all around
Searching for what they need

Is this the world we created...?
What did we do it for
Is this the world we invaded
Against the law
So it seems in the end
Is this what we're all living for today
The world that we created

You know that everyday a helpless child is born
Who needs some loving care inside a happy home
Somewhere a wealthy man is sitting on his throne
Waiting for life to go by

Wooh, is this the world we created...?
We made it all our own
Is this the world we devastated, right to the bone
If there's a God in the sky looking down
What can he think of what we've done
To the world that he created

Sharing a kiss,

like the fragrance of lilac at dawn,

like a salty tear
running down the paleness of your face.
Thoughts, sighs... a total bliss
......... Love.

sad smile

The black clouds of his eyes were hovering over the deserts
like the ebony ravens of death.
The heat of the sun was freezing his soul and skin
like a blizzard woulda Japanese tree in bloom.
Yet his mind's eye could see the light-
The end was there, at the horizon
pale at first, but then much brighter
just like the lickering of a match in the cave of the night.
It was there, just one touch, and he'd have it in the palm of his hand.
One will, one tear, one sad smile and that light would become his.

mirrored rain...

The stonelike drops were embracing the hot essence of the earth in a long-waited for gesture. Generous water gave and took life, bonding physically, mystically Heaven and earth. A sacred bondage, a bridge so frail and yet so promising... Rain was coming abundently, heavy with fragrance and delight, light with hope and tangible. It would be blue again, soon, and life will start on its path more fresh and giving than ever before.

nocturne...

Breaking, the moon hid her pale face behind the dark curtain of the clouds.It was in late October and already a cold wind coming from the North-East was blowing over the dry, almost lifeless nature. The wolves and owls in the woods were howling despair, a death-like despair, like the abyss of a sinful soul tormented in the entrails of hell itself. The leaves of the old trees were all gone by now, covering the chilly ground with a thick blanket of deep, humid fragrance...

.....................................................................................

En cassant, la lune a caché son visage pâle derrière le rideau sombre des nuages. Il était vers la fin de l'octobre et déjà un vent froid venant du Nord-est renversait la nature sèche, presque inanimée. Les loups et les hibous dans les bois hurlaient le désespoir, un désespoir semblable à la mort, comme l'abysse d'une âme coupable tourmente dans les entrailles d'enfer lui-même. Les feuilles des vieux arbres ont été toutes parties à ce moment-là, en couvrant la terre fraîche avec une couverture épaisse de fragrance profonde, humide...

Friendship...

Friendship- word void of all meaning, just a shell covering man's need for vanity and being selfish....

Violet

Violet my favourite taste
Blue the hope that I lost
The innocence regained
Copper leaves covering the soil of my heart
Keeping it warm until winter
has passed, keeping the painful
white away until green becomes...
....my face.

islands...

John Donne once said "No man is an island".... I'm starting to believe he was wrong. Indeed, at a shallow, superficial level you see people always being and trying to get connected to others around them, but once you go deeper into the human cave- the soul, you might be surprised to see how many people feel lonely most of their life. In a way it is really a nice experience to be a lonely island but then a few years later you see other islands have got together to form a larger island or even a continent.
There has always been this tendency in man to look for the other- friends, family or lover. And it really feels amazing to be surrounded by these people, but what if you can't have that, what if you're just a solitary island that awaits for castaways? What if for you it is geographically impossible to connect with other islands...?