On a Friday Morning

There is an awkward feeling right there, under my chest. My heart rhythm has changed. It is dancing to the tune that has been there all along, but went unnoticed. Do you want to know what my perspective on life looks like? I love walking under the morning sun. I imagine how its rays reach me and touch my skin. I get sun kissed. I look around and see green trees, green grass, dandelions and roses. I hear birds chirping about their business. I smell summer. When it rains, I raise my head so that the drops can touch my face. I get rain kissed. All of this is happening while, I walk from metro to my work place. Do you want to know what the real picture is? There is a highway with hundreds of cars exhaling carbon dioxide, which mixes with the dust of the city and forms into a grey cloud that makes me suffocate. The wind blows the dust right in my face and I feel powdered in sand. The car signals break the silence and I rush to get to work. That is the real picture. Nothing has changed really, except my perspectives and the rhythm... And good lovely morning!

Unknown Amount of Happiness

How would you like your happiness to be served to you? With slices of delicious spring fruits and a scoop of a vanilla ice-cream on top? Or you'd prefer an expensive watch or a diamond pendant on a golden necklace? Perhaps, all you need is sweet words and actions of love? In any case, happiness will never be too much enough to satiate our "empty" hearts. Is it even possible to measure happiness? What is the formulae? Distance? Time? Wrinkles? High and low pitched laughters? Calmness and stillness of smiles? Serenity? Attention? May be the amount of happiness is proportional to a person's indifference to any weather be it gloomy february or lovely may or scorching july...May be the amount of happiness is proportional to self-love and self-respect? May be it is proportional to zero expectations...No one knows...and no one cares...since no one asks themselves the extent of happiness they want. All humans want to be happy, preferably very happy, end of story. Thus the extent of happiness is "VERY". 

Journey to yourself

Anything, remember, anything can inspire if you give a chance. Those little ideas that flicker through your mind or garlands instead of light bulbs on your head, red, green, blue, those balloons that lift you up if you allow - I call these quickspirations. Be as queer as your friends. A friend of mine who has been dead for centuries now says to "journey to myself". Now, I have been inspecting myself, I have been a judge to myself rather than those 12 juries, I have been a harsh friend to myself, never patted myself on the back. Damn, how on earth am I ever going to "travel to myself"? The irony of looking inside is actually about interacting with the outside world. You can only see your reflection on the people and things around you. You can only receive what you give. Simple. Plain. You might not feel like it. You may force yourself do things that bring chills up your spine, you may be heroes or do stupidities. You may be the worst kind of a masochist. Good news, noone can hurt a masochist more than himself! Eventually, our actions will reveal us to ourselves and not exclusively to ourselves. Our own grass will seem greener, though when you reach that point, it won't matter anymore. Blissful feeling when things matter only through the filter of love, peace and compassion. Thus "journeying to yourself" is finding SERENITY. Reaching the point of serenity is exposing yourself to the outside world, forgetting insecurities, knowing the bruises will heal. To find serenity you should enter a turmoil knowing that you will get through.  

Within

There is something I want to tell you today. It is about signs or messages. They are everywhere and they remind me of little hummingbirds that you can never catch or observe for a long time. Puff and they are gone. But once you've seen them, reflect upon them. Now, I don't want to hear about superstitions, black cats and etc. I am talking about mystic signs that come out of nowhere but can change your entire life. Some of those hummingbirds have nests within us of which we are unaware of. Their little fluttering wings could shift our perspectives and let the light within us shine outside, metaphorically speaking. In short, we are what we think, we are what we act and we are what we love. Change those variables, and you will change yourselves. Change yourselves, and you will change your world. Explore the depths of unfathomable souls you possess. Never give up on yourselves. 

Quickspiration

For non-stop thinking freaks like me. You will be just fine, thinking for us comes so naturally, we might not utter a single word, but we have a world of words to say. Which we won't. And that is okay! So many times I have not spoken a word out of empathy, out of avoiding to be judgemental. My inner planet is whirling like those Sufi dervishes. No solar system, just turbulence like in the Starry Night. Sometimes I do not speak out of vanity. Or do I not feel like it? May be it is my pride, so proudly proud. Besides, speaking yourself out does not guarantee neither understanding nor avoidance of judgement. So here I am, in my noisy silence, shushing the voices inside and pointing my arrows against the veil of outside silence. Here I am, in my insanely balanced gravity, standing on one foot, hands reaching the skies, with pounding heart in stitches, catching the distant scent and reviving memories...

Reading is Sexy

I walk with a red rose tucked in my hair, on high heels and classy little dress. I sometimes carry a gun with me and turn to "wrong" streets. I anticipate the next moments. Mysteries pursued, satisfaction achieved, pleasure infinite. They talk to me, those voices and characters. My lips crook around the edges, I sigh and shrug, jump over the puddles, raise my head and look in the face of the rain. I love the feeling of rain drops on my skin, almost as if someone is kissing me on my cheek and eyelids and forehead and lips. Angry at times, proud and prejudiced. Sometimes, I'm cold and calculating. Sometimes, I'm agonised. Those deep conversations, I love them, with deeply right people. Witty and charming gentlemen flicker through my mind. I inhale love and passion. "Kill the joykillers and restart your curiosity". Laugh out loud, without alcohol in your blood. It is so rare! Transformation is tremendous. Oh, and travel! Everywhere, to everyone or someone special. I become someone else. Words remind me of actions that I want to take. So very Orwellish of me. What is beyond the event horizon? Take a pencil and underline: beyond are the infinite opportunities, frameless pictures of happiness, beyond are the wings...

To my beauties - Sevinj and Lamiya, with love! 

Happy birthday KKO!

http://www.kkoworld.com/

Marbelous Heart

A heart and flesh from marble, yet pounding and alive. This is the first association that hits the mind when thinking of "The agony and the ecstasy" of Irving Stone. It is amazing how a writer can transform mere facts about a sculptor of Renaissance into a beautifully woven piece of writing. At some point you forget what boils a fascination in your blood more, the life of Michelangelo or the story of Irving Stone. Then you realise, it is rather the PASSION that pulls you in. The passion, the love and the ecstasy of both Michelangelo and Irving. The passion that is contagious...

My fingers are brushing through a keyboard waiting for signals or emotions to flow so that I could write this review. This weird yet exciting feeling I have now, this bittersweet flavour from the book. I picture Michelangelo circling around the Duccio Block, thinking passionately about his Giant, drafting the contours of his signature. I picture Irving sauntering in the direction of Palazzo Signoria after hours of exploring David the Giant pondering how well he could pass this Michelangelic passion to his readers. Finally, it is myself that has to reflect and come up with proper and beautiful words to anyone who would stumble upon this marbelous post.

When you take "The agony and the ecstasy" in your hands, it looks like a piece of fine white marble. Reading this book is like carving the marble yourself, bit by bit, page by page. Only when you reach the end, an astonishing feeling sweeps all over you that it wasn't the stone you were holding, it was a sculpture, it was a fresco, it is the full and complete image of one man, one genius. So take this marble and carve it till the end. Learn from Michelangelo. Learn from Irving.

The lessons:

- The stone is not as cold as I thought, some humans are colder...
- You carve your own life bearing in mind that life is as tough as the rocks of Carrara.
- Agonies outweigh ecstasy, immortality is not a solution.
- Religions are corrupted, faith is subjective.
- Families are precious, take care of them.
- We all need friends like Granacci. Friends that lift us up, friends that inspire and motivate, friends that criticise, care, love, laugh with us and get us drunk.
- We all have our own Pope Julius II as a demon and he will stalk us if we don't learn to say no.
- Sadly, love can be late. Too late, sometimes.
- Beauty is immortal, action is attractive, jealousy is fatal.
- Be rebellious, be different, chances being hated are high, but respect is guaranteed.
- You are not the master of your destiny, people will interfere, plans will go wrong, destinations will change.
- Money is a security, save it.