If only I slowly start again...

Today I am feeling a bit sleepy, probably because of lack of sunlight. This is something that deeply affects me, although I adore my place of residency. Which comes to the strangeness of my identity. I never knew where I belong. I am slowly making peace with the fact that I will probably never figure that out. I probably just belong in the universe, with no particular affection to any given culture. 

I believe being feminist is what defines me the most. But even that doesn't come without a good dose of scrutiny (by myself) and self-doubt. As much as I love it and feel liberated by it, I do tend to think there's just too much out there that I cannot understand. The whole movement being suddenly gender acritical, for example. I think this ends up not protecting the very women they intend to defend. 

I think it's quite telling that most people who usually tell me they don't see why I 'complicate' or 'overthink' things are white males. There has been a few white women telling me that, too. It's funny, because they'd never get it. So I don't engage much. I will probably not be very well remembered after my death, but if I do, it will be as the woman who didn't engage much. With anything, or anyone. That can be quite liberating, I guess. 

I have a very heavy sweet tooth. I've tried to reduce sugar countless times, with no success. I am planning on starting a new diet soon, maybe tomorrow. I don't like cooking much. I've been eating too much chicken, too. To be honest, that's been the case since I quit being a vegetarian, some two years ago. I no longer believe vegetarianism is an option to me. That can be liberating, too. Unfortunately, not to the animals I insist on eating (which are chicken and fish). 

I am spiritual but not religious. I cannot stand religion. I think it is the easiest way to make you fearful, paranoid and disconnected from the rest of humanity. I don't want to connect to any so-called path to divinity at the expense of other people's dignity. The whole talk of a particular religion being the only way is what strips people of their self-worth. 

I have lost many friends and relatives because of my activism. Daring to say what I think on social networks has caused me many troubles related to my personal relations. I regret not. Life is too short to keep relating to bigoted people. I have no problem acknowledging that we had some good moments together but our life philosophies are just too opposite to continue engaging in any type of interaction. They choose religion, I choose life. It's that simple. 

I know what love is, looks and feels like. The other day I shared a song on my fb, the title is, I don't know what love is. In fact, I do know what love is, and I feel very grateful for that. I am blessed enough to love and be loved in return. For a long while, I wondered if the type of love I am living was fulfilling to me. Today I realize it is not that love should fill me with anything. I should be complete in my own way. Trying to be complete on my terms has freed both myself and my significant other. 

I think my biggest obstacle to achieving anything I want is my lack of discipline. I have a few health issues that are not really serious but they annoy me deeply and together, they have the power to really divert my attention from what I wish to be doing on a more permanent basis. I've been spending loads of time in bed these days, as I only feel tired and apathetic. But I am hopeful this will go and next week I will be able to engage on pursuing my dreams again. I do not dream of becoming big and famous. I just dream of having a consistent routine. I find that extremely hard to achieve. 

Some people feel really uncomfortable around me. Maybe because I am very socially awkward or something. I tend to lose my vitality when I am around people. I will never know why, but I can only interact to a certain extent, because I am soon to feel drained. And that is not a very nice feeling. So when I am on my own I try to get back into balance. Sometimes it takes me weeks to recover. I believe I am a good friend, but I could definitely be better if only I was able to keep the energy in my body. 

Meditation helps. It is not a panacea, but it definitely helps me stay grounded and a little balanced. My main difficulty, again, is discipline. I am naturally incapable of keeping a routine on anything I love and wish to do. That takes its toll on my health, but I am feeling hopeful. With all my intent, I wish to get back to blogging. And doing all the stuff I like to do. So this is where I am at the moment. This is a bit of who I am at present.

Read More

Jig of a very original life

'Challenge the status quo' - I sort of lost count of how many times I heard/read the line and I can't help but think about its empowering nature, and how unachievable it may occasionally seem to me, maybe others as well. 

One simple way I try to keep my spirit up is by searching for daily samples of provocation here and there. It's funny how hope is always at hand, no matter which direction you turn your gaze. I can say this is pretty much how I feel these days. 

Like having a horrible, sleepless night only to learn the next day that your favorite singer is going to play live again, after 35 years. I know I've no talent and blogging about someone with the caliber of Kate Bush is almost like a blasphemy, but I wouldn't forgive myself for not dropping a few words on the matter. I'm a fan. I still tremble with awe when I think of that moment when the news met my eyes. 

I'm not one of those fans who've known Kate forever. I was pretty grown when I decided to move beyond her classic 'Wuthering Heights' and explore her work more attentively. I still cannot fathom how I could have lived for so long without Kate Bush. Her music made such impact in my life that I seriously consider it in 'before' and 'after' Kate terms. 

Bush's songs helped me go through dark, difficult times of my journey. The difference between her songs and all other songs that mark such occasions is that I keep going back to Kate. Always. You know, sometimes you've had a bad experience and the songs you hear to try to cope with that bad event become so stigmatized that you just want to leave them altogether in the past. I could never affirm that about Kate, because there hasn't been an instance when I listened to her songs while I was down that I didn't feel like getting up and fighting back again. 

To make things clear, I have an example. I can say today that I had the most incredible years of my life when I was living in India. Those were, however, very difficult times. So mentally straining that when I look back, I understand how important it was to know and appreciate Kate's music in its entirety. I still remember spending hours listening to it. 

Today it sounds a bit awkward but I used to meditate listening to Aerial's A Sky of Honey. I would sit in half-lotus and in a matter of seconds, I would find myself in a magical place, so safe and so immersed within my soul that it felt like nothing could break me. I still feel that way when I listen to that album,  and I also get a sense of hope and well-being that makes me wonder if she's really real. I mean, of course she's real and about to tour again but it's as if she is channeling something extremely powerful, positive and not exactly from this world. Or maybe she is in such connection to the Universe that all good things get effortlessly manifested through her very existence. 

I think it's brilliant that she is back after so many years. She herself is an example of utter defiance of the status quo, I guess. When she had the opportunity to be cliché and mainstream, she just shrugged and decided to be herself. I think in the end that's what her songs teach me, over and again: in a crazy world the wiser thing to do is to be true to yourself and do what you really want to do. It's always easier said than done, I know. Not everyone has the privilege of being passionate about something. But I think everyone, including the less privileged me, has the power to remain genuine and attain some level of magnificence in life that only self-knowledge and gratitude can bring about. So I'm grateful to Bush for all that she is, for all that she represents to me. 

I would like to go to her show. Right now things seem pretty uncertain, and I can form no conjecture of my next steps, even for the near future. But I do know that I'll spend some hours next week trying to get tickets online. For if someone is capable of bringing out the best in you, even in strange/dark songs such as 'Waking the Witch', then I think she's definitely worthy of all efforts. I may get frustrated if I don't get tickets and I may get even more frustrated if I don't gather the money to fly to London, but I do know one thing:  I really wish her all the best with the shows. She deserves nothing less than full sessions. 

Read More

Goodbye, sweet Tia

I can still see the child in me, going for some rare Sunday visits to my grandparents. They were sweet towards me, to the extent I couldn't really believe whenever mom told me of her hard childhood with cruel parents.  That nurturing lady who gave me hot chocolate and spoke about life with a soft, nurturing voice? No way she could have been that bad. I wish to develop on it further, as I now know that people can uphold different personalities at different times of their lives. The story I would like to share today has a different tone. Or it does not, as I write about change, anyway. 

Those visits call for another memory, a sweet one, as well. My dear auntie whom we tenderly called Tia Tianinha. I loved to visit her and listen to her stories, even though she was usually busy cleaning her tiny home. It looked like so much effort, so much to do. The place was so small but she was very careful in leaving it spotless. 

Life did not run smoothly on her. I remember mom telling us about her ex-husband, how she suffered unspeakable domestic violence and how he ended up drinking poison and spending months (or was it years?) dying slowly at the hospital. Most of all, I remember my mom acknowledging how strong of a woman Tia Tianinha was, even though she was so tiny and looked so frail from the outside.

I was not very close to her, as my mom is not very attached to her family. So we rarely visited, and I can’t really remember the last time she made it to our home (I mean mom’s home, as I now live abroad and she would never consider such undertaking). All I know is that she was really kind and loving towards me.

I visited my family in Brazil last Christmas. I was fortunate to see auntie at a family gathering. She as usual greeted me with a smile that brightened her castigated face. Yeah, the years took their toll on her. I remember how self-conscious she was of her appearance when she was younger. She even went on and did some plastic surgery on her eyelids. We always thought that she was going to grow old but never lose her vanity. Because she was pretty and seemed very proud of that.

She did give up on her vanity, though. I’m not saying there is no beauty in old age. Far from that, I think old age is an adage to beauty. It's just that one needs to accept being elderly. You know that natural light people have when they are comfortable in their own skin? Well, that's precisely what auntie lacked. That did not prevent her from being beautiful, but it indeed prevented her from looking satisfied. 

I'm aware that it's a bit too much to expect someone who suffered so much to express gratitude and keep on with a positive attitude towards life. That's sort of a privilege. She told me twice that she was "extremely tired of living". Last time we met, she advised me not to have children. I greatly appreciate her advice and I even think that was unexpected, as I'm usually bombarded with questions like "why are you not conceiving?" as if reproducing was my sole purpose in life. She was different. She looked at me and said "you know what? You're better off without kids". What she meant, though, is that she was immensely tired of taking care of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Yeah, she was only 64 and had great-grandchildren! And she had to take care of them, as she did with her previous descendants. 

I heard of her passing on a Sunday evening. My sister told me she looked placid on her funeral box. I think she finally rested. I'm very sad that she's gone and my mom and her relatives are all suffering greatly on the loss. I think we get too attached to life, even when life proves time and again to be nothing less than a nightmare. I hope she finds the peace she never really seemed to derive from her existence. I'll keep my memories and with them the conviction that she was, above all, a very good person. R.I.P, Tia. 

Read More