How To Be....

"Become Who You Are", Nietzsche's immortal words have been my guide lines for the past months.
I am now on the path to do just that "Know Thyself" is the toughest thing to learn!
One should not feel so small looking up the stars, instead we should feel we are part of them, at all time, holding on for support and comfort and inspiration.
My long journey toward self discovery may leave chaos in its wake, but when you are cleaning house, it always look worse at first then everything falls into place as it finally should.
Browsing along to seek inspiration and search for the hidden treasure that my mind, heart and soul, I have noticed that everyday, in every spot of the Globe, other souls like mine are making themselves bare in front of an unknown audience. Captivating scattered people that they will never meet, by their Art, their writing pieces, their Blog.
I have so many center of interests, that I can actually try sometimes to focus and reserve a place for each and everyone of them.
As this blog is more like a journal, as I doubt that anybody visit, that will be a nice guide work on how I can also order my thoughts.
This sudden need for "order" is not at all related to a personal tidy-up although thoroughly needed!, but more related to my daughter. I am bringing her up in too eclectic surrounding, with too many choices. Therefore she is even more dispersed than I am, being interested in everything at the same time and constantly.
Curiosity is good, but focus is also something to be prized.
The project to dedicate myself to some "Books & Movies" review has been waiting to mature in my head for a long while.
I love reading, " the cheapest vacation you can buy." - Charlaine Harris as I have read from @HappyTwilighter Twitter page. I cannot help but admire people that just simply put themselves out, reaching out to others, just by being themselves!
So this "Book & movie" review should certainly be completed with Arts review and discovery.
This is just not "all talks"...Guess that action are strongest than words so be prepared for my first step out there!

Have a little faith....

I have had a nauseating feeling all week, because I know the "future"is around the corner and somehow I have lost control of it. Not like I trust that we can really controlled our life, at least we can provide a little shape to it...I feel lost and panicked as one could feel at the edge of a cliff, when you know that salvation can only come from the jump, but you are not quite sure if you wish to let go of your stand on solid ground.
But this is just an impression, as the earth beneath your feet has already started to desagregate, your foothold is not so secure, still you delay the moment of the jump. Maybe all I need is FAITH. The whole conversation was based on energy and the power of projected thought - positive ones- the 'leap of faith'.
When we have faith, we feel confident about the outcome of the journey, the goal will be reached, everything will be alright. But at the end, we neglect one small detail: the journey itself. The trip that will take you from here to there, it needs a plan, a vision and a bit of faith! At the end it is really the journey that took your to your destination that counts, not the goal itself.
I have looked back on my journey so far, since I cannot find my goal, not even sure that I had one to begin with, and beside feeling weary, I am not satisfied with the path I have taken.

I started with the idea that I should achieve something with my life, but it was never enough, I was never satisfy because I have yet to find the purpose of my journey.
Self-Accomplishment is the hardest thing we can do.It is hard, require confidence and, for my part, a little faith.
I hold to ideas that allow me to carry on the journey:
-Human nature is profondly good,
-we all have in ourselves the power to achieve miracles,
-We shine when things are at their worst
-Science cannot explain everything (that's my comfort blanket'
-There is still magic in this world
-One day, just One day, I will be who I am supposed to be.

On the verge of a change that will occur, whether you want it or not, you start to think and ponder.
Every start is an opportunity or can be transformed into one, the only mistake I could do is take the 'martyr road'. I have been painfully reminded by a kin (one shot to your heart without breaking the skin!) that I was a pinacle of disappointment, because I have let all the juicy opportunities get passed me...I disappointed them...Did they ever wonder if I had ever disappointed myself?
The bar has been put very high for me from the start,(and I let it be raised that high) causing me to fall constently. I did rise everytime, relentessly, just to be told that it 'just was not good enough'.
I am convinced that a life should be constructed, decision after decisions, with added layers of moments, emotions, creations...there is no good or bad path, just choices.
Each choices making a branch, another possibility, leaving all the other in the dark, unformed, but not inexistent.
At the end, it will be the beauty of the tree that will be looked at.

My tree of life does not comfort me. I have lived every moment as a duty, not taking the time to savour it, to live it. It was all work, submission, keeping my head down and work hard to satisfy other people's dreams, to reach evrybody else expectations.
I am anonymous in the mass, not famous, admired or read, just a person trying to fit in, regardless if I will it or not.

What if I just could take flight, break the convention and exist as I want to be? Broke all the taboos and restrains that I have created aroud me for the convenience of all but me. Let the beast inside sing and dance and enjoy life for once: selfishly.

We tend to forget that life is one opportunity, we can make everything of it, but live it miserably. Life can be a cookie filled with layers of dreams, nighmares, hope, Love and betrayal, but whatever you do, you still have to eat it...might as well make the degustation the more pleasurable as possible.

HOW NSPIRED DO YOU WANT TO BE? by David Hawken

Just read that post RT'ed on Twitter by @inspiredm via Andy Wright and I just spend the rest of the day thinking about it...These are just true and right to the point words and they have the merit to be eloquent...Take some time to read them, understand them and think...let yourself be inspired too...

Commencement Address by Paul Hawken, University of Portland, May 3rd,
2009

" When I was invited to give this speech, I was asked if I could give a
simple short talk that was “direct, naked, taut, honest, passionate,
lean, shivering, startling, and graceful.” Boy, no pressure there.

But let’s begin with the startling part. Hey, Class of 2009: you are
going to have to figure out what it means to be a human being on earth
at a time when every living system is declining, and the rate of
decline is accelerating. Kind of a mind-boggling situation - but not
one peer-reviewed paper published in the last thirty years can refute
that statement.

Basically, the earth needs a new operating system, you are the
programmers, and we need it within a few decades.

This planet came with a set of operating instructions, but we seem to
have misplaced them. Important rules like don’t poison the water,
soil, or air, and don’t let the earth get overcrowded, and don’t touch
the thermostat have been broken. Buckminster Fuller said that
spaceship earth was so ingeniously designed that no one has a clue
that we are on one, flying through the universe at a million miles per
hour, with no need for seatbelts, lots of room in coach, and really
good food - but all that is changing.

There is invisible writing on the back of the diploma you will
receive, and in case you didn’t bring lemon juice to decode it, I can
tell you what it says: YOU ARE BRILLIANT, AND THE EARTH IS HIRING. The
earth couldn’t afford to send any recruiters or limos to your school.
It sent you rain, sunsets, ripe cherries, night blooming jasmine, and
that unbelievably cute person you are dating. Take the hint. And
here’s the deal: Forget that this task of planet-saving is not
possible in the time required. Don’t be put off by people who know
what is not possible. Do what needs to be done, and check to see if it
was impossible only after you are done.

When asked if I am pessimistic or optimistic about the future, my
answer is always the same: If you look at the science about what is
happening on earth and aren’t pessimistic, you don’t understand data.
But if you meet the people who are working to restore this earth and
the lives of the poor, and you aren’t optimistic, you haven’t got a
pulse. What I see everywhere in the world are ordinary people willing
to confront despair, power, and incalculable odds in order to restore
some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty to this world. The poet
Adrienne Rich wrote, “So much has been destroyed I have cast my lot
with those who, age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary
power, reconstitute the world.” There could be no better description.
Humanity is coalescing. It is reconstituting the world, and the action
is taking place in schoolrooms, farms, jungles, villages, campuses,
companies, refuge camps, deserts, fisheries, and slums.

You join a multitude of caring people. No one knows how many groups
and organizations are working on the most salient issues of our day:
climate change, poverty, deforestation, peace, water, hunger,
conservation, human rights, and more. This is the largest movement the
world has ever seen.

Rather than control, it seeks connection. Rather than dominance, it
strives to disperse concentrations of power. Like Mercy Corps, it
works behind the scenes and gets the job done. Large as it is, no one
knows the true size of this movement. It provides hope, support, and
meaning to billions of people in the world. Its clout resides in idea,
not in force. It is made up of teachers, children, peasants,
businesspeople, rappers, organic farmers, nuns, artists, government
workers, fisherfolk, engineers, students, incorrigible writers,
weeping Muslims, concerned mothers, poets, doctors without borders,
grieving Christians, street musicians, the President of the United
States of America, and as the writer David James Duncan would say, the
Creator, the One who loves us all in such a huge way.

There is a rabbinical teaching that says if the world is ending and
the Messiah arrives, first plant a tree, and then see if the story is
true. Inspiration is not garnered from the litanies of what may
befall us; it resides in humanity’s willingness to restore, redress,
reform, rebuild, recover, reimagine, and reconsider. “One day you
finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around
you kept shouting their bad advice,” is Mary Oliver’s description of
moving away from the profane toward a deep sense of connectedness to
the living world.

Millions of people are working on behalf of strangers, even if the
evening news is usually about the death of strangers. This kindness of
strangers has religious, even mythic origins, and very specific
eighteenth-century roots. Abolitionists were the first people to
create a national and global movement to defend the rights of those
they did not know. Until that time, no group had filed a grievance
except on behalf of itself. The founders of this movement were largely
unknown - Granville Clark, Thomas Clarkson, Josiah Wedgwood - and
their goal was ridiculous on the face of it: at that time three out of
four people in the world were enslaved. Enslaving each other was what
human beings had done for ages. And the abolitionist movement was
greeted with incredulity. Conservative spokesmen ridiculed the
abolitionists as liberals, progressives, do-gooders, meddlers, and
activists. They were told they would ruin the economy and drive
England into poverty. But for the first time in history a group of
people organized themselves to help people they would never know, from
whom they would never receive direct or indirect benefit. And today
tens of millions of people do this every day. It is called the world
of non-profits, civil society, schools, social entrepreneurship, and
non-governmental organizations, of companies who place social and
environmental justice at the top of their strategic goals. The scope
and scale of this effort is unparalleled in history.

The living world is not “out there” somewhere, but in your heart. What
do we know about life? In the words of biologist Janine Benyus, life
creates the conditions that are conducive to life. I can think of no
better motto for a future economy. We have tens of thousands of
abandoned homes without people and tens of thousands of abandoned
people without homes. We have failed bankers advising failed
regulators on how to save failed assets. Think about this: we are the
only species on this planet without full employment. Brilliant. We
have an economy that tells us that it is cheaper to destroy earth in
real time than to renew, restore, and sustain it. You can print money
to bail out a bank but you can’t print life to bail out a planet. At
present we are stealing the future, selling it in the present, and
calling it gross domestic product. We can just as easily have an
economy that is based on healing the future instead of stealing it. We
can either create assets for the future or take the assets of the
future. One is called restoration and the other exploitation. And
whenever we exploit the earth we exploit people and cause untold
suffering. Working for the earth is not a way to get rich, it is a way
to be rich.

The first living cell came into being nearly 40 million centuries ago,
and its direct descendants are in all of our bloodstreams. Literally
you are breathing molecules this very second that were inhaled by
Moses, Mother Teresa, and Bono. We are vastly interconnected. Our
fates are inseparable. We are here because the dream of every cell is
to become two cells. In each of you are one quadrillion cells, 90
percent of which are not human cells. Your body is a community, and
without those other microorganisms you would perish in hours. Each
human cell has 400 billion molecules conducting millions of processes
between trillions of atoms. The total cellular activity in one human
body is staggering: one septillion actions at any one moment, a one
with twenty-four zeros after it. In a millisecond, our body has
undergone ten times more processes than there are stars in the
universe - exactly what Charles Darwin foretold when he said science
would discover that each living creature was a “little universe,
formed of a host of self-propagating organisms, inconceivably minute
and as numerous as the stars of heaven.”

So I have two questions for you all: First, can you feel your body?
Stop for a moment. Feel your body. One septillion activities going on
simultaneously, and your body does this so well you are free to ignore
it, and wonder instead when this speech will end. Second question: who
is in charge of your body? Who is managing those molecules? Hopefully
not a political party. Life is creating the conditions that are
conducive to life inside you, just as in all of nature. What I want
you to imagine is that collectively humanity is evincing a 20 deep
innate wisdom in coming together to heal the wounds and insults of the
past.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once asked what we would do if the stars only came
out once every thousand years. No one would sleep that night, of
course. The world would become religious overnight. We would be
ecstatic, delirious, made rapturous by the glory of God. Instead the
stars come out every night, and we watch television.

This extraordinary time when we are globally aware of each other and
the multiple dangers that threaten civilization has never happened,
not in a thousand years, not in ten thousand years. Each of us is as
complex and beautiful as all the stars in the universe. We have done
great things and we have gone way off course in terms of honoring
creation. You are graduating to the most amazing, challenging,
stupefying challenge ever bequested to any generation. The generations
before you failed. They didn’t stay up all night. They got distracted
and lost sight of the fact that life is a miracle every moment of your
existence. Nature beckons you to be on her side. You couldn’t ask for
a better boss. The most unrealistic person in the world is the cynic,
not the dreamer. Hopefulness only makes sense when it doesn’t make
sense to be hopeful. This is your century. Take it and run as if your
life depends on it.”

By Paul Hawken

A SURREALIST JOURNEY

Local Artists exhibition this week...Discoverd a new world through oter people's eyes, mind and work. This scultpure capture so well in may ways the essence of man...Nature reveales it to the world, and the face (mind, sould) is encapsulated in that wired body...an armour for the soul, a Temple for its light within.

This is the work of local French artist C Meyer....

BEING LOST BY BEN GOODSON

A short poem about Being Lost:

Through dusty old passages,
Caked in years of neglect,
Lives an old wooden door,
Very hard to detect.

Carved from the husk,
Of a bitter oak tree,
Burned bright by the lightning,
And fixed fast by the sea.

“Every door holds a secret,
Behind which things are found”,
If you push on the handle,
Is it structually sound?

But the old man who works there,
Has nothing to hide,
Just an eye for detail,
And a manner quite snide.

Lonliness touches him,
No people around,
But ‘the things’ are his friends,
They’re ‘the Lost’ and ‘the Found’.

Every day there is more,
A boardgame, a dolly,
An old leather book,
And a battered old brolly,

A satchel,
One trainer a hat and a coat,
One long oar,
From a bright orange boat,

Ducks made of rubber,
And clothes of all ages,
Treasure galore,
All housed in steel cages,

Silently hoping,
Beyond all reasonable doubt,
That their owners will come,
And let them all out.

Day after day,
With a noticable hunch,
The Keeper will sit there,
Digesting his lunch,

Wiping the crumbs,
With the back of his hand,
A curious jailor,
And the King of his Land.

Torn between hoping,
That someone will knock,
And with smiles on faces,
Take home their clock,

That they bought at that day
At that time, at that place,
With a small sum of money,
And a smile on their face,

That they left on the seat,
Of the two fifty eight,
When they realisation hit,
Just a moment too late.

And wanting to keep,
All these things in his sight,
To make sure that somebody,
Cares for them right.

By BEN GOODSON...

ODD COUPLE

A thunderstorm was brewing, The day has been very hot and as usual for the gift of a hot day, the price to pay will be dear.He had an odd feeling all day, he gather his evening shopping and took slowly the steps to his little studio..."she is going to come tonight...better have everything ready!" a quick look outside at the nigh settled down, switching on its stars as he switched on his own lights...He heard the shuffle of fabric and turn around.... "You got some salad for tonight?...Do you need some help to set up" "No thanks...what are you doing here?" "I told you I'd come, you did not answer, so I assume it was ok...she looked annoyed...as usual with you, that's your problem, you just don't get me..I am not going away...you left me remember... I decided this time to face her up, anger was starting to take over as usual, with every single one of her visit "You ditched me remember, you told me to leave, you were cold as ice, did not even let me the time to gather my stuff...you throw me out" I was stating to shout at this point "you let me drive 2000 kilometers to see you and the next day...nothing, it was like I was not even there...." I could see she was distraught and that this discussion will take the night...again.... "I NEVER told you to go, you decided to go...and without an explanation...pfttt you left ME" I had already heard that all same line of arguments... Christine and myself kept on revisiting this wound and pick at it until it bled everywhere, I did not know what to think, my feeling were so tangled, a mixture of despair, disgust, anger and sadness...The woman I loved suddenly decided that she did not want me anymore and suddenly after several stay around (friends, family, heartbreak hotels...) I ended up here, in that very small studio, where only my job was keeping me together and she shows up, at my door, a month ago, spurting her venom at my face, accusing me, diminishing me and yet...I still loved her and it hurt. She sat herself down on my worn second hand sofa without being invited, and without looking at me, just pretending to shuffle my magazines and books lying, recklessly balanced in a melange of genres...abandoned flightless paper birds made to make my imagination rise.... she started in an acid tone "I saw you today...at the bus stop, with that co-worker of yours" And so it starts... "I saw the way you looked at her...she looked up to me, her eyes hard, her mouth kept tight in a thin line, that could not be good...not good at all...she knew. "She is just a colleague, we were having a laugh, there is nothing go....." She cut me off...as usual "If a man looked at me this way, I knew he would have an hidden agenda...I have never allowed you nor told you to sleep around, did I?" "We did nothing wrong...we were just talking, and may I remind you that we are not together anymore, you DITCHED me....You told ME to go, to leave....and I did, you have no right..." "This is not the point, is it...I am here and you have some explaining to do...why did you leave, was it the sex?" God this conversation was getting more unbearable by the minute, I turn my eyes away, trying to hold on to any familiar things I had brought back with me in that claustrophobic space....my heart was on the breaking point, I just could not take it...This was not a clean break, but a painful tear, a fleshy and sensitive part of me that was being ripped open, chewed and spat out without any mercy...I looked at her face once more, pale , gently framed by her brown curl, the sweet memory of the dimples whenever she smiled, which were totally inexistent tonight...her face was just inhabited by bitterness, her eyes red and watering over, my own vision became cloudy.... Outside the Thunderstorm was getting more and more fierceful, the sky was being torn apart by light and I, by my lost love...a strange mirrored scene, a complex interaction between inside and outside- my soul and my mind...the storm was getting close, but it was just light play...no relief would come from it, no rain to quench the thirst of the earth after the scorching summer day, no soothing , only electricity in the air. This had to come to an end, this self-destructing impulse.... "You did not answer my question...why have you come? didn't you say that you did not want to see me anymore, that our relationship was just a sterile garden and you just could not blossom with me and all that jazz.You always get very poetic when you are cruel and want to hurt...I heard you. Every single complaint out of your mouth, every words of disdain, Every belittling comments..." She opened her mouth then, but no sound came out of it, I was winning... "For 7 long years, you have played cat and mouth with me, blinding me from what could have been a good life, but now it is enough, you will have no more hold on me, you will not make anymore decision on my behalf...Now leave, you are just not welcome" She stood up still silent, but her mouth was moving, she look so desperate, I almost got fouled and step forward to take her in my arms, but no, I needed to be strong, This had to be the night, I needed to finish it...for my sanity and her sake. Tear were gleaming on her now so stretched and pale skin, her eyes were fading under the veil of tears... "I have met someone, and although you will still be in my thoughts, I need to be freed of you...please leave...now and for good" Without another single word she walked the few steps separating my so called lounge/bedsit and stood by the door.She turned once again toward pleading..."Why did you leave me/!" her voice was so weak, not louder than a whisper.... 'You died Christine, I have never left...but you did" The door suddenly opened and the thunder threw one of its mightiest growl, the blinding light soon follow and I shaded my eyes from the almost purple and blinding fork....She was gone, the steps leading to the studio were deserted...silence followed...I was very thankful for it.

The WIND SPIRIT

One fine day, the wind spirit fell in love with a little girl...He loved hearing her pearly laugh that rung a long way and that he uses to carry along with him like his personal little music box.

He had discovered her just before a storm, swinging away,her little slender body fending the air like and arrow to then bend like the an agile bamboo, felling fully alive. Her head bent and stretch toward the sky, lost in her imagining that the earth was moving with her...she saw the clouds swinging away their fluffy shapes, in a curious dance, the sun playing pick-a-boo with her face...Swinging high and made, as she laughed, an innocent and pure sparkling sound that a child can utter.
She did not notice the wind Spirit, who was gathering strength for the storm to come...The thunder king was arriving and he had to be prepared for its arrival, but still he stopped, to listen to that delightful sound.
The little girl then starting singing, as if only for him...a soft and clear little voice.
Near and far, high and low, following the rhythm of the swing, her auburn hair catching the last rays of the dying sunlight to reveal copper curls.The wind Spirit began to be playful and ruffled her hair toward her face, she brushed them away, delighted to be going to so fast, although her movement did not changed. Her eyes sparkled, deep gold stars in the onyx beads shadowed by long eyelashes.
Suddenly the child turned her face to the wind and breathed in, taking him inside and for once, he felt invited, welcomed warmed and not alone. He took some of her fragrance with him, a ephemeral treasure. The little girl giggle and digging in her pocket, she threw her velvet bow in the air and watched the wind raising the gift to the heaven, twirling, swirling, higher and away. The simple gift touched him, usually when he took away tokens, he could hear curses, tears or anger... This was for him, and him alone, and he felt very deeply touched.

The wind Spirit marked the spot where she was, so he can return and visit...soon worked had to be done...and he could hear the thunder king growling afar accompany by his sons and daughters, pure rods of energy, laughing and as they stroke the earth...the little girl looked to the sky with wary eyes...she was afraid of the Thunder King and was counting to hide her fear...1.2.3... she ran inside before the Wind Spirit could caress her cheeks and bid her goodnight....He promised himself to return and visit again.
The next day, the wind spirit waited for the little girl, the whole day he circled the valley, creating havoc in its wake, getting impatient, but the little girl was no where to be seen.Maybe she was indeed a night blossom, such as jasmine and her cheerful sound, like the precious perfume would only come to enchant you at dusk...

He sent his spies, all creatures that could fly and was children to him.But the great Dragonfly did not see her, the big mocking bird did not want to stay, being watch too closely by the house cat, crouched in the grass, salivating at the challenge...only the bees, grateful for the blossoming honeysuckle stayed and kept watch...finally she came, her hair once again in the wind, bare foot and giggling at the thought of feeling one with the universe and swinging with the clouds.

It was the cats, friends of the wind and medium between the world of the living and the Spirits, that had whispered one day to the playful Wind, that this particular child had terrible nightmares...They had tried to scare them away, but with no avail.
That is why the Wind Spirit sought the assistance of the Moon.

The Lady of the night, knew the child, for she had seen it during her diurnal visit to the Lord Sun...The wind Spirit went to her to ask her for her protection, so the child will not be scared at night.He greeted her at he should:

"Goddess Of Life, Love and Paradox,
Keeper of the keys to all the locks
Of Mysteries of Earth and Sky,
Pray answer me, Who Am I?"

The Lady of the night bowed to acknowledge his presence.
"Would you do something for me?"asked the Wind Spirit
"If you keep the cloud away from my face for three nights and three days, I will" replied the Night radiance.
The wind promise and asked in return that the Lady of the night in all her forms and her daughters, the Stars, would look after the child and keep the night fright away....
The Moon agreed.
It was the cats, friends of the wind and medium between the world of the living and the Spirits, that had whispered to the playful Wind that this particular child had terrible nights....
That is why the Wind Spirit sought the assistance of the Moon.

He worked really hard to keep her beautiful radiance clear from the shadows of passing clouds, whose were very unhappy to be diverted from their courses....
But the Moon and the Stars kept their promises...they blinded the ghost and ghouls away and lulled the child to sleep with the music of their light, inaudible for adults, but so reassuring to a frighten child.
The years passed by...and the Wind Spirit, loyal to his love ,visited often the little girl, that soon became a young woman, full of spirit...she had befriended the wind, was protected by the Moon and the Stars and was part of the living universe...She kept her secrets well and lived her live giving thanks to the elements and spending time singing to the wind all sort of songs from her heart.
One day, the Wind Spirit was visited by a flock of Sparrows...their were on their way to collect the soul of a woman that was said to have befriended the wind...with deep sadness in his heart, the Wind Spirit grew colder and angry...he followed the birds and raised the soul in its arms...the bright light changed shape and became once again the little girl with the velvet bow and the sparkling laugh...she held on tight to his embrace and together, they swung in the sky, towards the Heaven, greeting The Lady of the Night and her daughter has they passed in they journey toward eternity....

Who has the rights to your mind?

illegally intellectual property such as music, The question of intellectual copyright has been raised lately in France. Scanning, (actually "spying" ) on people downloading films, books etc...and giving the approriate sanction for it. A n entire new "Netpolice" and "Cybernannies" would have been put into place for this gargantuan task!
Hell is paved with the best intentions...
I thought that artists should be finally protected and their creations with it. I do not agree that the result of your creativity, sweat, heartache and talent should be available for free to anyone, unless you decided so. Artists can if they wish give their creativity, time and talent for free, but unless they say so, we should not steal it.

Unfortunately, good intentions turned into a political debate, and people felt that it is the core of their very freedom, especially when you are secure in your home surfing the net, that was in jeopardy...and with this too, I agree. Artists complanin that the peope targetted are also their fans and that the net was a way for them to get to their public...cutting them off would kill their chance to get through the young generation...What to say, which side to lean on?! Both points are valid

TV programs such as Big Brother have slowly used people attraction to voyeurism and turn it against them: If you do not mind watching other people everyday life and interaction, if you fancy "reality shows" that makes you hair raised on your head..why shouldn't you be next to surrender your privacy? - For a real treat for your nerve, read Amelie Nothomb "Sulfuric Acid", that will provide you with a wide window on dystopia!

But this is sidetracking...Who has the right to your creativity, to your dreams and work? Everyone!, as long as they acknowledge that the work is yours and should remain so...but in another hand, spending an aweful lot of governement money to arbitrarely cut your internet connection off, on suspicion that you may have downloaded something illegally ,without having any mouth to defend yourself, is OTT...
How do we find a balance?. How do you teach in this fast world that not everything is for grab and that there is nothing as a "free lunch"?!
I think it comes with the respect. Respect for an artist, an author, a musician, a painter. If we learned more to respect one another, I am sure that it would improved our lives...

Just good old R-E-S-P-E-C-T!

Have tried my hand in another blog...If you visit this, you might like the other one...see you there!
http://ladyhawk2711.wordpress.com/

A taste of divinity

Yesterday I saw a video by Jo I Ito about "Context Not Content" regarding Social media phenomenon and its future potential development into mobile system and access. The man introduced a concept in my head that have haunted me, and I just put a simple post on Twitter saying that there was a sort of "divine" quality to the concept of knowledge and communication without the boundaries of Time /Space....But that is just it....
I do not want want to start an open philosophical debate, and the following comments are my own, the risks they will be read are ultimately slim, so I know I can express my idea in block here without bothering anyone...maybe these ideas will be found by chance, like a lucky dig, maybe not.
The parallels are too obvious to be ignored....we gather in flock around our computer and instead of whispering our fears, our hopes, our dreams...we speak them out loud to the crowd. We ask and answer calls for help and we are suddenly aware, thanks to the magic of technology (sentence sounding oddly like an oxymoron to me!) of everything, everywhere, in real time. Isn't this ability reserved to the gods, having omniscience of all that is happening on the planet, and therefore be able to forecast, prevent or provoke an event?
Were knowledge and technology the part of the "Divine" that is is us we have been told about?
Were the Gods early twitterer? This is getting a bit out of hand, but the original idea was that we are now approaching the keyboard like people were going to church: To connect, to listen, to feel hope and love and get the knowledge to carry on.
This knowledge does not mean we are gods, but that we have the potential to heal, to help to hope. We can still have knowledge and faith, whichever it might be.
We preach everyday in the same sacred halls hosted by the invisible miracle that is the web. Will we become wiser, less alone, more loved thanks to this medium, to this power? I am not sure but I hope so.
So what if social media is the new church, and finally polytheists, we are all gods and flocks.

INTRO:

Memories have such a hold on you that you can think yourself bewitched...
I can still see her, sitting by the window, staring at the crowed street without really seeing it.
I did not think so much of that old lady with veiled eyes, that hardly remembered my name or hers for that matter...
Sometimes, a smile will touch her lips, like a glimpse of sunshine between a heavy clouded sky, then the sorrow will be back, tracing bitter lines on her face.
She was waiting...something that I could have never even think had happen to this woman, a story more extraordinary in a forsaken time...Time of darkness, the time of war...

..................................................................................................................................................................
I had the project to digg into my family past and folktale and bring to life the story told through the generation of my greatgran love story during WW1 with an American Indian. This journey is taking me deep into my own roots, making me question my own existence and heritage. It will also make me push muself into daring to write a full short story perhaps even a novel. I already started to research the subject since I am totally ignorant of what the Indian Scout of the WW1 could have felt, be, look like. What did they bring with them, what did they take out of the trauma of this war. Overall the first message that came to mind is that The soldiers that came over in Europe did not begets death, but also generate life.... So the journey through the past begins. I d not think I will come out untouched by what I will find, write or feel.

Little of me

I have been drawing as far as I remember .... This is my private garden and although I never had the courage to post anything, too afraid of what people may comment, I have recently realised that it does not matter.
I will never be able to go forward if I do not kill this odd habit to look over my shoulder, and shudder at the thought that someone might think little or ill of me.

Drawing is freedom, it eradicates my fears and neutralise the ghost hovering about me.

Every single sketch es are mirror of my soul, my mood. Little smudge of me.Enjoy them, discovering them is discovering me as well.

Once Upon a Time

Once Upon a Time, four magical world that open an entire universe, where imagination runs wild and free, without limits and boundaries. But this is not all.Fairy tales are a medium to transfer wisdom and philosophy through time and generation. The utterances of Utopia, dealing with a wide range of topics, from women condition to politics, wars and human conditions.
Diving into worlds were King, Queens and princesses tell the tales of ancient times. The eternal battle of Good Versus Evil.
I revisited this marvellous literary genre, the richness of it. It provides inspiration and under the pretense of simple entertainment, it hides treasures of sensuality, cruelty and tales of courage. I have created a variation on the themes of the Fairy Tales. Reading the stories made me wonder what happened to the characters we lovingly nursed with our imagination as children, where do they go once we have entered adulthood and no longer believe?If we think of religion, having faith gives life and shapes to something.Breathing life and faith into these characters may have given them the will to carry on surviving, to fight to exist.

Parallel Universe....

Couldn't help it, I had to put my eyes and my head into the very good "Black House". Born from the talent of two authors collaborating: King and Straub. Right after I read "The Talisman" that re-introduced the parallel universes in my head, I took the trip again toward a world not ruled by technology but my magic. What state would be the world today without the technology we have now.... No computer, no Facebook or Twitter; no mobile phones.... Would we be still gathering at dusk, telling each other stories, passing tradition from one voice to one ear, one generation to the next. Would we know the name of our neighbor and the name of their children. Would we show more respect for life in general and to our world in particular if technology has not yet seen the light of day.
What did Technology and AI achieved today, I am just talking in terms of communication and connection. The paradoxical achievement that put you isolated in front of your PC, disconnected from the world around you, beings from flesh and bones, to connect and communicate with disembodied being that answers to the name of blast-O-3648, Pinksatin or Fakerwhatever? Your address book is now digital and identities are a blur. One things that remained to be cherished though, is the absence of social status. You are what you write, nameless, genderless, status-less. It gives you the whole impression to be part of a whole, a digital community. Link with people that would not give you the time of the day in other circumstances and also the ability to "read people thoughts", become acquainted with even the most out of reach character.
In the digital universe, you can befriend "stars" on the human level (from Actors, Writers,Big shot designers to CEO of big corps ); no social or VIP barrier to hold you back, the simple magic of communication.... in the safety of your home.
Is that what it is all about: connection but with safety.... The conviction that no harm will come to you if you take the chance to talk to strangers in the limitless digital streets.
Why can't we apply the courtesy rules of the digital universe to our everyday reality? Maybe because the job will be too big, and sometimes it is easier to go forward and start anew than mend the past....Who am I really in this big digital ocean, but a drop of thought that may not make it to the ground of any body's consciousness. What I know is that I am trying hard to stay myself, maybe embellishing it a little, but still true, in the digital universe as well as in my "real" life.

Yesterday upon the stairs....

'Yesterday upon the stairs, I saw a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today, I wish, I wish he'd go away" This text stuck with me from my first creative writing lecture. I thought about it tonight because I have people that are not really there on my garden wall. This is not a real mystery, merely a mechanical erosion phenomenon, nevertheless it does add magic to my night strolls in the garden.
Once upon a time, I felt observed, not by unfriendly eyes, but the feeling was a wee odd and slightly uncomfortable. I stared in front of me, first looking far in the dark corners of the garden, but besides the swift movement of the "Dodson Wabbits" (a story for another time!), I couldn't see anything disturbing. I shook my head and looked again, this time not so far, eager to shake the uneasy feeling and get back to my own thoughts.That's when I saw them.
First I could only make out eyes, then a full child like face. A beautiful girl that could have been drawn by a Gustave Dore in the early 19th century. She bore a proud yet charming expression, and her all attitude just beckoned to me, she was trying to attract attention. On the top of her lovely cherubic face was a sort of Phrygien hat...I decided she was the 'child of the French revolution' maybe Eponine from 'The Miserable' this sweet girl in love with Marius during the insurrection called 'La Commune' in 1871. She could have been this enthralling voice from the score, singing to the night:
" Sometimes I walk alone at night
When everybody else is sleeping
I think of him and then I'm happy
With the company I'm keeping
The city goes to bed
And I can live inside my head"...
Forever engraved on my wall, this young beauty's spirit left a residual image behind her. Did she have a sad story to tell? Did she felt love and not been loved in returned....All that is left is that face. A face you cannot see unless you acknowledge her presence. How long would I see her? I do not know. What I know is that there is a story to tell, it just have to mature in my head, and I will set it free.

TRAFFIC JAM...

It is a maelstrom in my head tonight, too much inside, too much wants to come out and unfortunately, all at once.
I will discipline myself, spank my inner muppet and get on with what matters....what matters really in our lives.In mine, the all irony of it. I have always been scared to be alone, I do blossom when I am around people, but paradoxically, it is in my loneliness that I am the most creative, witty or even happy. Ironic, because, although this was my greatest fear, I have spent my whole life on my own, and even now surrounded by partner and family, I feel and am alone.
I thought it was a curse, but I misunderstood it, it is altogether a rare gift to be alone and enjoy this moment, when you are face to face with yourself, with your thoughts and your mind. In spite of the fact that I am my worse judge and executioner, I can finally let myself go and savour some of my weird moments in the numerous in the crowded mind of mine.
Of the aspects I love most about myself (and that I spend most of the time hiding ) is my deep childishness, along with my rebellious tendencies.
I laugh my head off in front of Buffy, quote their silly lines, spend a lot of time watching scary movies (vampire and werewolves being my favourite from Dracula to Gingersnaps, Dog soldier or Wolfen) and can pass easily from King, Koontz and Pullman to Morrison or Shakespeare!
SF and fantasy are undeniably my drug , cannot live without the stuff.
I have a sort of Romantic Goth meets magic realism aspect that I embrace in private (You wouldn't catch me dead with black lace over my clothes!). Musically it is even worse. Although I love Jazz, Blues, Folk and Indie, surprising voices such as Tracy Chapman, Ella Fitzgerald, Ayo or Jill Scott for the female voices and a Ben Harper, Louis Armstrong, Johnny Farmer or Elmore James I can also fall for Evanescence, Led Zepplin or Paramore.
The lyrics also attract my attention , especially when it comes to Rap. There, my hearts goes to Eminem. That will be for another post as the culture of orature and verbal battle thrills me!

Really, how can I sort out to put all these tastes, often in contradiction with themselves, in the same package without causing a certain congestion?
I say "embrace all aspects of yourself, because each facets IS you and compose your being". However complex I can be, I have to live with myself. If sometimes I am disappointed about being far from the person I would like to be (brighter, faster, stronger, wittier and a long string of adjectives that I do not have right now....) I shake myself up and remember that.... really "NOBODY understands quantum theory" Thanks Mr Feynman for making that clear

A bird told me not to give up my dreams and gather the courage to get out there.
When I create something, may it be drawing, written or molded, it makes me feel like being an instrument. I always have the odd impression that I am a simple medium, and the line or the paint use me to tell their own stories their own meanings.
I like this sensation of not being in control. It does confirm to me that their is somewhere something bigger than us an if we pay attention it will talk to us by any mean available, may it be art, writing or music. This is my own system of belief and I do not impose it on anybody, I just acknowledge that it is there and not everything can be labelled, catalogue and logical.
Having mystery around us is not threatening or scary. Life is mystical, we are just use to it!
So a bird told me not to give up on my dreams and keep going, and that's what I will do....I can only pass the message along.

Spring is here

Just my small contribution to the general Springy atmosphere.... Rabbits and eggs, chicks and greenery, a lot of it.., everywhere.
While the sun shines and the mood is uplifted as we reaching the end of the long winter and breath in the air the close promise of Summer. But we have to account for Spring in between: time to reassess our lives, clean up house both figuratively and physically and tied up lose ends. Time to embrace forgotten dreams and renew them in the replenish pool of our spirits full of hope and refreshed by the slumber induce by the winter season.
Although Winter has taken its usual toll: the extra pounds showing, tiredness, slackness, bad skin and bad hair, we know that a good scrub will make it all vanish and we will be all ready to bend to the diktat of this eve of the summer season: Lose weight, become irresistible to the other sex (or the same) with any mean possible, cheat on your age, your status, your appearance....But not now. Now is the time to simply enjoy a ray of sunshine on however tired face, and just relax, waiting to blossom. A simple lesson from Mother Nature: Take your time, a season for everything, and all shall be renewed in due time.Even your credit rating...you'll see...

Cheating time....

Summer time...This odd habit of changing the hour when Spring arrives for a reason that seems lost, but we all go through it anyway, knowing that It will screw up your mind and body every time, and all that for what....? Our kids are tired and obliged to go to bed while it is still daylight (explain that to a 3 years old!) and makes you become paranoid about that hour that might or might not have been changed on the numerous clocks of the house! Nature knows what time it is for itself and it is not up to us to tell the sun when to rise or to set, so why are we attempting to fool ourselves?. Time will pass us by, even with our ridiculous attempt to control it. When it comes to energy savings, I will try my chances with being careful to switch off all apparatus in the house and office when I am not using it, recycling as much as could and keep on walking (which I have to do, since according to universal criteria I am far to dope to learn how to drive!) But anyway, will try to do my best in my own way, and I do not impose it to anybody else.
But as usual we will adjust.
Oh, I wish I can bend time for my own purpose too, shall I start picking out hours from my life, even days or months. Turning back time, saving time, wasting time...Never enough time for us although there is plenty of it.
Here for reflection an extract of "The Prophet" by Khalil Gibran:
"You would measure time the measureless and the immeasurable.
You would adjust your conduct and even direct the course of your spirit according to hours and seasons.
Of time you would make a stream upon whose bank you would sit and watch its flowing.
Yet the timeless in you is aware of life's timelessness,
And knows that yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream.
And that that which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.
Who among you does not feel that his power to love is boundless?
And yet who does not feel that very love, though boundless, encompassed within the centre of his being, and moving not form love thought to love thought, nor from love deeds to other love deeds?
And is not time even as love is, undivided and paceless?
But if in you thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all the other seasons,
And let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing." This time......

Here comes Skippy

How wonderful it is to see the sudden light illuminating a child's face at a totally improbable present. That's how we have been introduced to a new character in our mist tonight. The improbable Skippy the kangaroo.
A totally crazy inflatable beast with a sweet face that made the child shriek with delight.
A simple apparatus can suddenly change your world, turning it upside down and make you rejoice. An emotion so pure because new. Why, as adult, do we lost this simple ability to marvel and find happiness in the inflatable Kangaroos of our world?.
Maybe the problem comes from this loss of innocence, the loss of our childhood dreams that sustained us, help us wake up in the morning and gave us hope. Sometimes reality is so far from what we dreamed for ourselves, that we had to give up our dreams and fresh innocence to fit in, to catch up.
But not tonight, tonight Skippy the improbable inflatable kangaroo came into my life, and with the eyes of a child, I understood that life can always be renewed, forgotten dreams remembered, hope replenished....and that our flat is too small for that giant beast somehow!

Beginning....

A beginning is always a precious moment. All things, then, are possible, just waiting to be shaped and created.
A bit like a recipe, I am sure I need to follow some rules: A catching story line revealing a vibrant and fertile personality, then add colours and text to transform thoughts into readable material.
I guess I have used the chinese curse "May you live in interesting time" very inappropriatedly, but hey...I have shaped my life in a way that I am more like the James Thurber character "The secret life of Walter Mitty" than a real person!
My imagination have an annoying tendency to take over my own reality and make it extremely interesting.

My faith in people is so strong, tht I just could not fathom what happen when ill befell me.
I had my bag stolen in London last month, and instead or running screaming and cursing and crying, like anybody else would have done, I started roaming the street like some superheroe that could save the day, trying to find my thief.
In the process, I connected with more people than I ever would have on a simple saturday shopping spree in the city.
Nevertheless the trauma was there, I had to deal with the loss. Silly how I kept my entire life in a simple wallet, a simple bag. This bag turned into a nagging monster in my dreams...
Had to deal, so I wrote a short story about it.
I imagine the situation, the main character there, is not the victim, but the thief. I had to give him/her a shape, a personality, flesh it up. Then make it human and not evil.
I try to imagine the circumstances of that person that I have never seen. To add to the twist, this thief, masculine in my story to introduce a balance with the female victim I could relate to, starts to be deeply involved with the things he stole: her purse, her photos, the scrap of her life scattered in a simple wallet.
The fascination goes deeper, and the character, although hateable and hated at the beginning, becomes likeable. In the meanwhile, the victim, already unhappy with her life and not dealing well with the sudden loss of materials things that were part of her, is turning more and more nasty, withdrawn, abandonning family and friends...and faith. It is at the end , the reunion of these two characters, that everything separate, that should have never met, that made sense to me.
Because it was about me, and my only way to restore my faith in human nature, however ugly at time.

I live in my own world, full of quotes that I have gathered in my "memory bank". From films, books, song lyrics and the like.

These lines may never been read by anyone but myself, but I guess I did not create this for the benefit of others. In my life, professional or personal, I have always be turn to the outside world, trying to make it better within the limits of my own power.

This is my world, take it or leave it, as long as you do it peacefully and take something with you. Never make the trip for nothing!