Pleasure to feel and re-feel

Share the treasures,
all that is real inside,
what is learnt only for oneself,
there's so much to give,
it is said "no oppression",
truth must be allowed,
the inner Truth,
good people will know to listen,
to appreciate unicity,
and share back.
A lot was learnt,
recreate by the scent,
the spontaneity of hugging is ravishing,
the time stops,
resting, surrendering,
a shoe or a book suspended in one hand,
the suave taste,
and the transcendantal music,
the encompassing beauty,
the sensations avidly sought,
then preciously stored.

----

It's so good to be able to ask calmly : "what are you thinking about?", to let oneself the time to answer, recollect one's thoughts, probe oneself on the instant, and then share back his own thoughts at any moment; knowledge and experiences are shared to make us richer, all the things that we personally and profoundly like, and that we keep and cherish inside us, that's the meaning of life.

Advices for obtuse people

Sign of a successful education : "believing to be worthy of esteem whatever one is, whatever one does"

The founder desire. Without holding the desire to know one can't learn. One is born with that desire. The young child, in order to learn, doesn't need to search for motivation. He desires to know. The desire gives value to a knowledge.

"Ten babies are in a room, an object is forgotten in a corner, no one cares about it. It doesn't worth a thing. One of the babies desires it and takes it... All others will suddenly want to seize it : nine desires emerge. If someone desires it, it means it's worthwhile."

"It's the time you spent for your rose that makes your rose so important."

"Any comprehension on something correspond, sooner or later, to an action... if the comprehension is critical, the action will be too."

"No one's more deaf than the one who's not listening."

The treasures are in you, pleasure comes when you share your treasures with someone who will share his treasures back.

physical health in communication

We should be able to spot and admit when we need rest, and communicate it if we are with someone, for after having recovered some energy the sharing can continue with motivation, interest and that natural intensity, when we begin to feel distracted and tired in a situation with someone, even sometimes a very good friend, and that we don't really know why we can't assemble our thoughts as easily as at the start of the exchange (some will call that "boredom"), i think very often the explanation is simple, we need to deconnect and have a little rest, we must be able to say to the other :
"Sorry, here i'm a little bit tired, i need to lie down to get my strenght and eloquence back, (or i need to eat something or take some quiet time to think and rest), we will resume our sharing and communication then."
And i swear that it works, to be fine and share fully, be present in a situation, we must be able to listen to ourselves and do what is good for us, being healthy, well rested, having a clear mind, this tremendously helps the communication with the other, to reach satisfaction, we simply need to recognize our personal state and disclose it, without thinking bothering the other, we must listen to ourselves first and be honest, the communication will only be better then.

Make believe speculations on love and hate

On ne peut pas forcer l'amour.
We can't force Love inside us, nor inside others. Either it's here, or it's not, down inside us, and produced by us, depending on the situations and people we meet. (whereas we can rationalize the negative emotions). I make me believe. It's so much easier to be loathed than to be loved!
For now humans are swifter to hate, as they approach their emotions with fear.

we can all shine

I think i'm building that opinion, that when i'm entirely true to the people i talk, it's like i treat them with presents, like i'm offering them a flow of liberating vibes, and so they can be themselves too with me, and see how much it's pleasant to feel unrestrained, free to be real, in the complexity of human emotions, without conforming to norms or general principles, just be real in their truth, it's like i show them a way, naturally, and i don't feel i lose anything because that power is infinite in me, the real me i share can never be detached from myself (like it is for each one of us), i'm just showing it, sharing it, let it shine around people, and i believe enough that i'm right for that to be a good feeling, even if i'm speaking of grim subjects, it feels good to be true, and i'm sure it's a universal feeling, everyone will feel good to be true, that knowledge must be expanded, taught, shared.
We can all shine and be good to each others in our personal truths.

(The way we share is different for each one of us and sometimes despite the respect we have for the other, the communication will be impossible, the sharing won't ever match, in that situation we have to notice it, accept it, then go on our way and communicate with those we feel stimulated by.)

sharing the knowledges, (sharing one true self)

"Teaching, learning, (the relationships), can become a dependence for one, and harnessing for the other. How to avoid the risks of emotional, affective, educational "cannibalism"? The risk of harnessing. How to stay different, to know oneself different?

The child, in order to learn, must separate himself from his mother. While he is tightly coiled in her arms, he sees nothing in the world except this sweet fusion, and can only grab on his mother. He needs to see himself different from her in order to learn, and see her different from him.

If I know that I know only when I am with you, if I don't want to know because you know for me, if I only know what you know, I am captured, I'm in the fusion. If it's only in you and by you that I feel i know, that I think i exist, that I feel acknowledged, then I feel, I think, but I don't know."

without lack there's no expression

"It is by of the Lack that we say everything, the lack to live, the lack to see, it is by the lack of light that we say the light and by the lack to live that we say Life, the lack of desire that we say the desire, the lack of love that we say Love, i believe it's an absolute rule."

M. D

the lack is the need

life's not enough

what's left to do when there's no dream anymore, the dream of a valuable communication, when the person you want to confess don't ever want to hear it, and that you notice few people can hardly match up your passion and only through sensual desires, one night of touching then the void, an enjoyable language which can't last, so vain, that communication can also be my turf, but to me it's not more important than the other forms, those most people don't feel, they are awkward to express, they don't know what to enjoy, what to say, because they don't know what makes them feel, outward of a hand on their skin, i can be that hand, i can focus on the primal passion to worship the other's body, the great arousing, then it's only cinder, cinder and desolation, for me, because words miss them, the passion of something immaterial, the passion to want and really know oneself and the other, outside of the spiral, where there's no fear and all sharing is good, all reflections create the bond, and though i feel unsatisfaction, too many are too far behind, what's insufficient in most is the power to be interested, even if they don't know, just showing that they want to know.

Lonely as a lost shoe

TheLostShoeProject

(i put a link to that page on my blog because i really like the overtone, the message of that project)

the art of non existence

I like the change of hues on the pages of my book due to the change of luminosity when i read while walking in my appartment, the reflection is complex, progressively drifting, gleaming, then lingering, bright and cheerful close to the open window, then darker in the corner next to the kitchen, the stains are revealed on old paper and my shadow sometimes darkens the pages furtively, it's like clouds passing in front of the sun, or experiencing all the emotions of a spectrum, it's changing me aswell, it makes me feel somewhat more alive, the light on a book is adventures in my life, independently of any words.
It's an art not to exist that i know how to enjoy.

"Then someone will say what is lost can never be saved"

I'm watching at a photograph and it's me on it, it's my back, i'm sat on the bank of a frozen lake spreading to the horizon, i project myself into the scene, my straight legs are caught in the ice up to the waist, a part of the land is visible on the left, the air is filled with calmness, everything's frozen, and so white it hurts to watch around, sky and earth merged, i recognize my mom standing on that patch of barren land, forbidden and motionless, she's wearing a long dress with lace, entirely black, alike her long frizzled hair falling on her shoulders, ominously black, her face hardly appearing through the slit in that blackness, without thinking i bend my knees to stand up and so break the ice in a screeching sound, turning my head at the dark, ghostly silhouette in that movement, no reaction, then i stop and stare at what i have done, my wet legs sticking out fragments of immaculate ice, instantly fear seizes me, pounding my stomach, i'm projected back, i see my hand holding the piece of material, i was in and out all along, experiencing the two points of view at the same time, and this sudden awareness to have broken something that won't be ever again rips my guts apart and leave me there, bewildered, terrorized, frozen.

Night, i've got all three around me, famished, grunting and bickering each others to have the biggest piece, "what am i doing?!"

fragile lullaby

I like someone humming in the breeze.

(that shows someone shy, carried by his dreams)

Duras

She presents herself as a bitter person, all is lost, all is sinking, in the end, feelings are a mockery, no one is worthy of her offering long enough, all fades away, only recess and recession are genuine, inconsistant and rebellious in her writings, in interviews, she uses a grim smile and her eyes coo when the darts of her wit hit the blind veneration of her interlocutor, and that's pretty to notice the joy she gets from it, that makes me tender, that little game amusing her, disturbing people, being original, the lecherous goddess of decadence, but like everyone else, in front of the right person, with the right words, will come trust and abandon, the pure being appears, sensitive, under the mocking mask of the misunderstood one, somewhere inside, everyone wants to be seen and accepted as his real self, that can only be found in a shared confidence, and there's a behavioral key that not every others own to reach out to the heart of a person, you can't do otherwise than to drop the mask, even a cherished one, and keep it in your pocket, that moment is sugar, we'll all come back to lick it some more, carried by the tide of this taste at freedom.
Miss you are irreplaceable, a human being i would like to hear the stories beyond, and lift our guards off for a meeting, an emotional duel.

Abomination

Who wants to see the scars in me, on my body, what i've got the most intimate. The luscious scars for disposal. Who wants to be incinerated by my passion, trust me, nourish me.

Who wants to experience the abomination of love.

Sat in the middle of the alley, on the grainy concrete, wearing shorts and t shirt, the evening sun palming the neck, the wind twirling the hair, leaves clapping in the trees, the dusty cat approached suspiciously a clear napking laid in front, on it olives and anchovy carefully taking apart from a preparation of bread and cheese, the murmure of conforting words, the calm gestures, slowly brought the dark creature to let him be caressed, then eating gluttonously what isn't his natural food, his scrawny shape now pacing around and rubbing against the crossed legs, the back of the hand, closing his big green eyes in contentment, asking one brushes his fur more intensely, nature was smiling, from tamming is born attachement, and the magic of a free unconventional moment, no thinking about strangeness, it is good to be good, rewarding to do it naturally and get back pure gratefulness.

(i share because that was a genuine happy moment for me)

the right condition

(soundtrack, can't find the clean version on the net)

Maybe she's right, people use all their life to search for tricks, reasons, means, disguises to create the contact leading [up/down] to intimacy, all their energy!, (it's conspicuous on the streets), while i conditioned mine to build up and educate myself, alone.
I'm a lost cause now.
I should enter a sect to strip me of all that i am, not the money that i don't have, i want to be skinned up to one big ugly sore, a fiery piece of coal, get used and abused, crush my bones into powder and reek again, i want to stink and disgust for an obvious reason, make me the worst of whore because i want to fuck the whole world proudly, everything instead of loving true and that cursed wise solitude, making me lonely even among friends.
(and so, which is about to get a break, maybe a break too sweet)

the sleeping dead

I was getting out, i walked softly through the shadowy living room to reach the main door, my brother was sleeping on his side, almost entirely naked on a mattress thrown randomly to the floor, his image printed in my brain, so fragile, so helpless, in his ridiculous boxer shorts, even despite the prominent muscles of his athletic body, still bulged, round and strong in its rest, a true masculine force;

Cautiously i closed the door, without turning the lock behind me, to avoid any disturbance, halfway in the corridor i stopped, i turned my eyes to the set of foreign doors away in the back, "others"(a whisper), a wave of dread rushed over me, images of my brother, lying dead in a puddle of blood, on that mattress, in that same foetal position, wearing the same ugly underpants, spurts of thick blood on the moquette, prolonging the neat, unrestrained slashes all over his fit body, the horror pierces through me, me the cause of his death, by my will of non existence, my lost confidence, my uncontrolled self, my lack of faith in humanity, my humanity.

about my feelings for any life event

"It's interesting to think that a scene is now down into eternity, set forever in words or images, a slice of life waxed and shiny, put in a jar on a shelf, and i think : "once, in that time, this happened", then the melancholy of the thought fills me whole and i savor it like a direct intake of hard drugs in my veins."

"And that's why i like stories, from past and present."

(real, not fictional!, for fiction it's a different process to get to liking, it's based on understanding and relating with one's own life)

[allow me to quote myself eh eh, and to borrow those words that were for you when i wrote it, my mind all set on a sincere comment about your post, and that led to an important truth on me that i want to keep on my blog, thanks!]

passing the wound (scenes of a day)

The waitress leaned over the table, greeting the settling customers with emphatic politeness, as it's written in the booklet. Two men, probably father and son, directly stuck their arses on the chairs and their faces in the menu, without showing any anticipated pleasure at the idea of a full plate of juicy french fries and a grilled steak, the specialty of the place, without acknowledging the people around. Something was wrong, the young one appeared a bit shaky and distant, like if he was strongly refraining his eagerness to eat, pulling his chair away to escape the silent grasp of his father, and bending his back heavily to hide his awkward smirk between his knees. On the other end of the table was sitting an old man, a body of packed down fat with hardly no neck, scorn was frozen on his face, his only expression, no dynamism to change those traits, a statue of discontent, a crushing machine. The round, happy waitress all enclined to please never received one glance, and she managed to guess the order in the erratic mumbling and grunting. She left, the old man stayed imperturbable in the roughness, the vulgarity his life made him into. Poor men, poor girl, poor us.

One must love things for oneself before sharing it with others.

generally (i see the forgers and the unmatchable personalities)

I do everything not to control people when they are with me, allowing everyone to be true, to feel true, so if the communication is satisfying between me and any others it means they are being their real self, because someone who pretends with me won't feel ok as i give only sincerity, without imposing and without controling or letting the other be defined by me, and without letting any grip for the other to change me, in respectful warning, but always focusing on my good feelings to connect with him and get a real attachment based on the emotions that are good to me, by simply telling my truth i suggest to the other to tell me his truth, if he can't do it then the communication will crash inevitably as i will feel unconfortable and communicate that state, i can't express differently than in sincerity.

(Really i try not to cross the barrier of asking back for sincerity to those who can't give it, and make a natural selection to find who i can be fine communicating with, i did that mistake before, i'm learning my lesson and climb more steps into respect of the other, getting closer to those fitting my personality, my values)

le bonheur - happiness

Happiness isn't a permanent state, it's not an environment we wrap in, not a person we possess,

happiness is something we must constantly recreate

and that comes from the inside of everyone of us,

we can't wait for it and we can't basically be content with it,

we can experience a moment of happiness, enjoying it fully, but one shouldn't believe this state perpetual,

we have to chase it, firstly inside us, learning how we feel,

as it escapes along our emotional changes, raised by our discoveries, through our curiosity

creating new craving, new needs, related to our real personality.

It's being at the right place, at the right moment, doing the right thing, and all these informations are concealed inside.

We must learn to read in ourselves.

Happiness is something belonging only to each one of us because we are producing it on this inside,

and it is different for each individual. It's your inside connecting to the outside for a moment.

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Le bonheur n'est pas un etat stable, ce n'est pas un environement dans lequel

on s'enveloppe, le bonheur est quelque chose que l'on doit sans cesse recréer

et qui vient de l'interieur de chacun d'entre nous, on ne peut pas l'attendre

et l'on ne peut pas betement s'en contenter, l'on peut faire l'experience

d'un moment de bonheur, l'apprecier pleinement, mais il ne faut pas croire

cet etat immuable, il faut le poursuivre car il s'echappe au gres de nos

changements emotionels, de nos decouvertes, de notre curiosité qui crée de

nouvelles envies, de nouveau besoins. Le bonheur est un etat qui nous

appartient car c'est nous qui le produisont, et qui est different pour chaque

individu.

How many people own a universe as wide in stories, in ideas, in reflections and analysis as mine, and nevertheless am i not an interesting person?!

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- "Yes, the objective is also to accept all the choices made by the other, that everyone is completely free, i'd like that someone wants to come back to me indefinitely, yeah i'd like that...
without she feels constrained or guilty, only because she wants it for herself and uniquely for herself.

Inconditional love.

And if she goes some other places to see some other people from time to time it's not a problem, i can't control it, but that i am someone important for her and when she's with me then she gives herself entirely, in her true personality.

Like this until the end.

I must be an absolute romantic, or a simple utopian, a dreamer."

-"All this is poetic, i think all you tell me deserve
to be written in a book."

-"And i know i'm able to share everything, all i am in my truth, to only one person. Thanks for your pretty compliment."

-"I'm sincere, i think all you said is so touching."

old song

Here i am again exciting my curiosity with a million subjects, people and ideas to check, i'm all over the place and my mind copes very well, it galvanizes me, it's my food on which i thrive, i have plans and when they answer me back i'm overwhelmed with electricity.
When i'm passionate i can't be betrayed by myself because i go toward the good willingly and knowingly.

I will learn to control those phases to be a happy and confident person.

There are so many norms i don't understand, so many things i don't want, so many opinions and behaviors i can't stand, that i have the impression i'm bound to live in a box, or worst to live only in my imagination, for now it's like this reality doesn't suit me, i can't feel good in the world i know around me because so many things are not up to my standards, so much is vile, stupid and cheap (here my distorted perception makes me think "begining by my body", though i'm aware it's only a conditioned thinking), because of that i can't have it as easy as others, i have to strive, scramble and fight heartily, earnestly to reach what i need.
There's one thing i can do to be fine, Living up to my own rules!, finding out the burrows where the smart people are hiding, as few as they can be, i must keep that hope and that i'll find my place aside some of them, in simple acceptance, in love, in trust, in communication, in sharing.
I'll hold on to my needs, what i want close to me, what i want to be part of the world i crave around me, what i believe, what i know that's good up to me, because i know, i know i have to trust myself to be able to trust what is good for me, to build up with others that world i will feel joy to live in!

Ideal is availlable for everyone, this knowledge must be shared, i'm not a dreamer, i'm a humanist, i want it for me first, because that's all i can control and act for, my own life, my own needs, then share it with others fitting my real self.

And all along, with you.

(Just for the sound of a giant building collapsing)

Life, why don't you let me love you, why don't you love me in my differences, why did you offer self hatred to me, turning everybody into bullies and those i like as their leaders.

(i'm ok, i just like writing dramatic stuff, because i can feel it, that means put myself in that condition, but i can bear it too, drag me out, really.)