Love is balm for the soul

Healthy grounding of my idealistic notions of relationships.

Few of us ever live in the present.
We are forever anticipating what is to come or remembering what has gone.

Louis l'Amour

Bliss

There's a conclusion to my illusion
I assure you this

There is a light to all this darkness, I will tell you this
There's redemption in you asking them just why it is

Some answers are better left unspoken when you know you ain't getting anyYounger, younger, younger
Are you?

No ifs, maybes or buts.

Set aside the person you’ve always been and commit yourself to living in the moment. See a place for what it is, not for what you need it to be. Don’t compare, don’t anticipate, don’t vacillate, don’t cogitate. Simply embrace the present possibility of having an enlightening experience that reveals something you didn’t know about the world—or about yourself.

No mundo, o que não falta é gente que não sabe se deve ir ou ficar, que não sabe se vale a pena arriscar ou se deve desistir. Entre tanta gente indecisa, cobarde e preguiçosa, que ao mais pequeno sinal de problemas resolve fazer as malas e partir para outra, dá valor a quem fica de livre e espontânea vontade. Dá valor a quem decide, com livre arbítrio, e sob todas as condições e circunstâncias, que tu és a melhor opção. Dá valor a quem, perante uma fase menos boa, ache que vale a pena ser paciente e esperar porque está certo que melhores dias ao teu lado virão. 

Toda a gente tem dias de dúvida, de questionamento, de medo, de preocupação, de tristeza. E, dependendo da pessoa e da fase da vida, estes dias podem durar semanas ou até mesmo meses. Mas é precisamente nesses momentos, quando o barco parece tremer e a opção de saltar fora parece tentadora, que se deve procurar forças para manter o navio em movimento.

Não desistas de alguém que nunca desistiu de ti. O que nós mais precisamos na nossa vida é de gente que fica quando o resto do mundo se foi embora. Temos de ser a excepção, numa sociedade onde as pessoas preferem sair pela porta fora em vez de respirar fundo e esperar que a tempestade passe. Pois ela passa, e o que fica depois disso é o amor e a cumplicidade de quem nos conhece por inteiro, com as nossas imperfeições e defeitos, e não somente a nossa melhor versão. Porque parecer perfeito aos olhos de uma pessoa qualquer é fácil, o difícil é encontrar alguém capaz de se manter abraçado a nós com a mesma firmeza de sempre, mesmo quando não conseguimos ser fortes a toda a hora e as nossas imperfeições sobem à flor da pele.

Osaka, 13.04.2015

I never could stand being forced to do something I didn’t want to do at a time I didn’t want to do it. Whenever I was able to do something I liked to do, though, when I wanted to do it, and the way I wanted to do it, I’d give it everything I had.

Murakami, What I think about when I think about running
Osaka, 13.04.2015

In 1906, Amedeo Modigliani, an Italian painter and sculptor, moved to France to join the School of Paris, a group of young talented international artists inspired by the capital's avant-garde movement of the early 20th century.

about japan

Great destinations can be emotionally impacting, intellectually engaging, romantically energizing, and spiritually satisfying.

Parov Stelar, you fill my heart with your talent

Ode to things

by Pablo Neruda

I have a crazy,

crazy love of things.

I like pliers,

and scissors.

I love

cups,

rings,

and bowls –

not to speak, or course,

of hats.

I love

all things,

not just

the grandest,

also

the

infinite-

ly

small –

thimbles,

spurs,

plates,

and flower vases.

Oh yes,

the planet

is sublime!

It’s full of pipes

weaving

hand-held

through tobacco smoke,

and keys

and salt shakers –

everything,

I mean,

that is made

by the hand of man, every little thing:

shapely shoes,

and fabric,

and each new

bloodless birth

of gold,

eyeglasses

carpenter’s nails,

brushes,

clocks, compasses,

coins, and the so-soft

softness of chairs.

Mankind has

built

oh so many

perfect

things!

Built them of wool

and of wood,

of glass and

of rope:

remarkable

tables,

ships, and stairways.

I love

all

things,

not because they are

passionate

or sweet-smelling

but because,

I don’t know,

because

this ocean is yours,

and mine;

these buttons

and wheels

and little

forgotten

treasures,

fans upon

whose feathers

love has scattered

its blossoms,

glasses, knives and

scissors –

all bear

the trace

of someone’s fingers

on their handle or surface,

the trace of a distant hand

lost

in the depths of forgetfulness.

I pause in houses,

streets and

elevators

touching things,

identifying objects

that I secretly covet;

this one because it rings,

that one because

it’s as soft

as the softness of a woman’s hip,

that one there for its deep-sea color,

and that one for its velvet feel.

O irrevocable

river

of things:

no one can say

that I loved

only

fish,

or the plants of the jungle and the field,

that I loved

only

those things that leap and climb, desire, and survive.

It’s not true:

many things conspired

to tell me the whole story.

Not only did they touch me,

or my hand touched them:

they were

so close

that they were a part

of my being,

they were so alive with me

that they lived half my life

and will die half my death.

Marriage as a declining option for women

As a woman who spent her early 30s actively putting off marriage, I have had ample time to investigate, if you will, the prevailing attitudes of the high-status American urban male. (Granted, given my taste for brainy, creatively ambitious men – or "scrawny nerds," as a high-school friend describes them – my sample is skewed.) My spotty anecdotal findings have revealed that, yes, in many cases, the more successful a man is (or thinks he is), the less interested he is in commitment.

You mean that much to me

And it's hard to show

Gets hectic inside of me

When you go

Can I confess these things

To you

Well I don't know

Embedded in my chest

And it

Hurts to hold

I couldn't spill my heart

My eyes gleam looking in from the dark

I walk out in stormy weather

Hold my words, keep us together

Steady walking but bound to trip

Should release but just tighten my grip

Night time

Sympathize

I've been working on

White lies

So I'll tell the truth

I'll give it up to you

And when the day come

It will have all been fun

We'll talk about it soon

And I couldn't spill my heart

My eyes gleam

Looking in from the dark

I walk out in stormy weather

Hope my words keep us together

Steady walking but bound to trip

Should release but just tighten my grip

Night time

Sympathize

I've been working on

White lies

So I'll tell the truth

I'll give it up to you

And when the day come

It will have all been fun

We'll talk about it soon

“I imagine the feelings of two people meeting again after many years. In the past they spent some time together, and therefore they think they are linked by the same experience, the same recollections. The same recollections? That's where the misunderstanding starts: they don't have the same recollections; each of them retains two or three small scenes from the past, but each has his own; their recollections are not similar; they don't intersect; and even in terms of quantity they are not comparable: one person remembers the other more than he is remembered; first because memory capacity varies among individuals (an explanation that each of them would at least find acceptable), but also (and this is more painful to admit) because they don't hold the same importance for each other. When Irena saw Josef at the airport, she remembered every detail of their long-ago adventure; Josef remembered nothing. From the very first moment their encounter was based on an unjust and revolting inequality.”

Milan Kundera

MR LITTLE JEANS – THE SUBURBS

A change in students' sense of purpose can be achieved by changing learning method and environment (Ohi et al. 2010).

les amours imaginaires

LES AMOURS IMAGINAIRES Music Video (Sia - Breathe Me) from Marcin Grabiński on Vimeo.