The Fine Art of Time Manipulation

New Year Resolution '12

2011-12-31T19:56:00.004+01:00

Pare down to the basics
And clear my mind

Speak only when needed

I shut up the Blight

As the light shines in

I'll be able to see

The simple and strip down

To move and break free

When I enlighten

I flow and cascade

All rivers to ocean

Feet fast on the Way

As the light shines in
I'll be able to see
The simple and strip down
to move and break free

Gods for a day

2011-10-16T20:24:00.006+02:00

I reckon that the only thing Nietzsche, Bugs Bunny, Julia Cameron, Abraham, my reverse role-models, a shitty childhood, meditation practice and the Crossroads have in common is that they all taught me again and again that the Power is in the decision you make, or pass. Or miss. We are all well-equipped to thrive and expand in life, there is no reason to feel oppressed at all, at least in most cases. But in a culture like the one we live in, we need constant and regular reminders of that if we are to fulfill our potential and break free for real. And this is why joining the Global Revolution on October 15th was such an exhilarating experience.

I walked with neighbours and friends for over five hours to the city center. I joined LGTB activists and chanted about union and revolution on a megaphone covered in Pride flag stickers. I hugged strangers. I felt a cute guy's ass. I starved. I eventually sat exhausted on the cobblestone ground at the very centre of the Iberian Peninsula. And that made one of the highlights of my life.

On that day, yesterday as of this writing, countless common men and women left home and took the streets, wherever they lived. They chanted about justice and freedom, they spoke for themselves, and stated that nobody spoke for them. They walked in Beauty, and Love. It was something I had never seen before. And there is just no justice words and storytelling can do to that first-hand experience of self-transcendence.

One degree in Journalism and all these years of life experience have not helped. I am still slightly amused and seriously outraged at the way media and haters tell the story. They make one car set on fire by some problem child the whole of what there is to hundreds of thousands of people vibrating on the clear frequency of Love in unison. They make us look like haters, victim-complexed and whiners, when in actuality we are just the opposite.

We were not merely protesting. We were definetely not hating. We were affirming to each other (and to the short-sighted liars chickening on the top of this slaughterous pyramid) our manifested Power, our glory when we come together for the sublime purpose of co-creating, and our total absence of fear. In a state like this, sharing a such a beautiful moment with millions worldwide, we were coming together as more than people. We were purely divine.

Nobody knows where this is going, because there is no Yellow Brick Road to tread. We are not following somebody else's agenda. Real Democracy Now is an horizontal and very organic movement that has swept over all of the planet by now. There are still lands untouched, but that will not last long. I hear occasional cries of doubt among friends who are supportive of the movement and its ideals. And I have only one thing to tell them: whatever comes next, it is up to us only. The "system" is not an alien entity stronger and more resolute than you and me. The system is all of us together, assenting or dissenting, making decisions, or passing them. Or missing.

Insatiable

2011-10-09T22:27:00.004+02:00

I never really understood it when people came up to me and whined about having a boring life. I have certainly lived in a boring place, but my imagination would never ever let me rest. If I could not gather with likeminded individuals for a story circle, or a poetry slam, or Tango, or a potluck, I could still sit and fantasise about that. Or write about doing that. Or read online about it. Or compensate the block with whatever creative opportunity was available to me. I have never been bored on a long bus ride. I never needed to read or talk to summon up images, ideas or drama. All I needed was Time.

As I carve free time in my current life circumstances, I feel like I will never have enough. I have managed to set up the gay milonga with couchsurfers and non-couchsurfers going every second Saturday of the month, and it is actually afloat. I have got a solid schedule for homework from the German class and this terrible housekeeping thing that I hate so vividly. I apply three of Abe's processes (Focus Wheel, Affirmation, and Meditation) daily and I listen to the Vortex workshops on the metro every morning on my way to work, plus I do Morning Pages and Triple Soul work before breakfast. And I seem to be writing very regularly. But now that everything sounds fine, and I can finally get back to my comfortable limit with two creative projects going on simultaneously, I discover that not only can I afford music lessons every other week, La Tabacalera de Lavapiés (one of the coolest social enterprises in town) is offering Mandarin lessons for free again.

I might be compulsive, or all this is really irresistible, but I seriously want to learn to say no. Today is Sunday, and I spent the whole week catching up with emails, cleaning, cooking and doing homework. Compensating for a busy week and Saturday with delayed work. Maybe at some point I might as well behave like a dull person, and just rest.

Image: Overstimulated, by Jon Burgerman.

Six Years Later

2011-10-02T23:36:00.002+02:00

Once upon a time I was a helpless, full-time wannabe. Growing up in the rural suburbs of a dull city, all I could think about was ways to escape, and not until I was done with university and finished my first round of Julia Cameron's "The Artist's Way" could I leap beyond the fields those idiots surrounding me back then knew. I tore the chrysalis, spread my wings and flew away. I finally found a place I was not ashamed of calling home. That was back in 2005. My real life had finally just began, and it all happened within that year--including meeting the man I married.

I began this blog. I took classes, I experimented, I explored, I exploded, I was hired, I was fired, I was hired again, I got lost, I got found, I was told lies, I learned how to tell a fabulous story, I learned the truth about myself and the Universe, I had the best sex of my life during that year. I made more real friends within 6 months than over the first 20 years of my fucking life. I loved till I bled. Then I dipped my fingertips in the blood, and painted beautiful things on the ground I stood, and wrote poetry on the walls bordering the way. I walked in Beauty, and I recorded the stories I had to tell.

Then, instead of growing roots, I decided to move forward. I moved to Spain. Now there was no doubt I was totally out of the fishtank. I was a foreigner, I could barely speak the language, I made people laugh unintentionally. Best part is, I met a million others like me. A whole online social network of us. I was exhilarated, and I didn't want the fairytale to end.

And then I got sidetracked. I can only assume it happened when I decided that instead of exploring brand new creative possibilities, I wanted to deepen in what I was paying off more beautifully. So I acquired my fourth and fifth languages, travelled further out into the North and East, became a queer tanguero, learned a million new recipes till I could cook the perfect veggie meal. And resolved to get a paid day job. And dumped music. And writing. No wonder after all this time I look around and cannot see my creative work, other than a very creative life I've been living.

I do not complain, but this Autumn I got many people from that magical year come back to the spotlight of my online social life... One is published. The other is talking about the process of being published. The other just silently shines a little light from the other side of the planet, and the light shines all the way through to me. And the São Paulo gang, one by one, is slowly gathering on my Google+ Friends circle.

After six years, all I have to show for is what I have lived. The memories. The stories I have to tell, but have not told so far.
Are you willing to listen?

Function of Time #5: Energy

2011-09-26T22:05:00.001+02:00

Before rythmn comes Energy.

It took me a while to realise that. I fell prey to my old fantasy of time shortage for a long time. I fret over age, I resented time-consuming responsibilities, I cut down on comfort, I walked the cutting edge. All to save time I realise now I have never even used. Now I have decided to let go of this imaginary fear, and go back to 9-to-6'ing.

It sucks for a large part, but I also benefit a lot from it: a stable income will allow me to explore in depth aspects of my Passion, a regular routine will give me structure and support for leaping and launching rockets of desire, building a career will let me reward those who help me and light up my fuse. And more.

The other side to that is that it really sucked up most of my stamina in this beginning. I work in a well-concealed hide-out way up North everyday, and after getting home from the long ride with connections I felt exhausted and wanted little more than having dinner and collapsing in bed to feel less sleepy at the office the next day.

But tonight the feeling has changed. Maybe it's just temporary excitement about my German class beginning tomorrow in the evening after work, but I'm really eager to use my evenings now. Way more than in my old life, before I got back to day-jobbing. I want to get back to making Music, be finally serious with Mandarin, astral-travel, queer-tango, cook. And go back to blogging about The Fine Art of Time Manipulation.

I have realised this job has energised me. And if I have Energy, I have plenty of Time. In that feeling, I am Eternity.

All I have to do now is feel the beat, and put a natural rythmn to this song. I'm sorry I missed this important one beat and did not wish a merry Equinox to all my friends all over the World this season. Many blessings of Light and Dark, of up and downbeat. Life would be terribly boring and meaningless without them.

Mother Monster

2011-03-13T17:57:00.003+01:00

I am no fan of Lady GaGa. Pretty much everything I've seen by her so far is boring and dull at best, and just plain sick on average. I have refused to talk or write about her especially here on my blog because in this crazy time in which we live everything is advertising, and in our ultimate vibrational reality whatever we focus on manifests. But this morning I saw a video that really got to me, and spoken so much to me that my feelings are still confused.

It is called "Born This Way". In a nutshell, it is the average parade of emaciation, androginy, and vigorous choreography that is too half-cocked to show full nakedness and real, natural sexuality. But this is not your average MTV video. Maybe I am too sensitive at this point, but the symbolism and references she presents this time run too deep not to heed the call of an artist not used to knowing what she is talking about.

In the creation myth at the very beginning, she tells of the Eternal Mother hovering the Multiverse, and giving birth to Divine Twins, one that is perfect liberty and the other being protective evil. This rang too deep a bell within me not to let the whole song (with a very positive message, for a drastic and welcome change) get to me. At the same time, she presents herself, a celebrity and brand-name accused of enormous vileness and celebrated as the redeemer of the oppressed, as not just beyond good and evil, but the creatrix of both. She used a myth older than Time and a fundamental truth of the deepest human nature and origin to legitimate and consolidate her music-selling business with astounding success and unbelievable coldness.

Yes, I am torn. Just like the Mother Monster of the video.

Lady GaGa has always been monstruous. The dance number on blood that got her international attention got people doubting she would be able to keep up with the extreme appeal, and the meat dress on the cover of Rolling Stone freaked the shit outta vegetarian me, personally. The crippled woman dance on one of her videos haunted me for days after I watched it. Her sex appeal is not just violent, it's anti-sexy and repressive in many ways. Far beyond music, her career is being repulsive. This video is not different. She's the usual monster. But she's Mother Monster this time. She is, to effect, the Mother Monster protrayed on the video, and she is not ashamed of it. Why should she be?

Why should we all be ashamed?

This piece has a real message, and I got it. And I agree with it. And it makes my spirit fly.

But the visuals are still repulsive.

Image: The Sheela-na-Gig, from http://www.hohochiheaven.co.uk/.

Breath and Water

2011-02-06T23:34:00.003+01:00

I know some very interesting things, and I keep learning the Craft of the Wise in new forms, and new ways. Learning comes from many places. The Path my feet keep coming back to has made me pretty much a water witch, and breathwork has been a discipline I have been a little constantly, a little in-and-out exploring. In phases like this, I feel like I know a lot.

I know how to realign with Source, cleanse, store life-force, restore my Being and reenergise using my breath. I know how to unbind, heal my Self, let go and invite the Light using water. I know how to breathe Light into water, and make some serious magic. Light-heart-edly.

I keep learning.

Image from Pavel Melnikov's website.

The Water Pentacle

2011-01-18T16:22:00.006+01:00

We are stars on Earth, sang many mystical poets in many different languages and times. But throughout life, and the immersion in a culture that does not really support individual stardom, we were trained to stifle the inner fireworks and shy away from shedding our Light. The poets kept singing though, inspiring us to be naturally bright and help make the world even more beautiful and interesting with our unique gifts and joy in Being, but at some point we forget how. For good. And some of these poets devise pathways and songs to help us remember and reawaken. And shine on.

Victor Anderson taught the Copper Decagram to several generations of witches until his death ten years ago. Even though it is not really known whether he devised them himself or learned from somebody else, the Iron and Pearl Pentacles have been inspiring people all over the world to ignite the inner fires and shine their unique light on the inner and outer worlds.

Abraham, the collective of non-physical teachers translated by Esther Hicks, teaches in actuality little more than the divine nature of us all, gut-feeling wisdom and this marvellous Stream of Well-Being we are all rolling with. This Stream, the stuff of life itself, is God, the Source, the one and only light that shines in and through all stars of the Universe, that soothes and sweeps us away from wisdom to even more wisdom, from plenitude to enhanced plenitude. From love back to love again.

Based on both bodies of teachings, I have devised my own “third pentacle”, as one disciple of Anderson calls the systems created after his Iron and Pearl Pentacles, based on the parallels I have found between his teachings and those of Abraham. Inspired by Abraham’s marvellous metaphor of life as a stream, where “nothing you really want is upstream”, I have called it the Water Pentacle. In my personal practice, it has become a wonderful and actually divine tool for awareness and connection with the divinity present in life, in my own Self, in the present moment.

Just like the experience of the Iron and Pearl Pentacles were taught to me by more than one teacher, with the Water Pentacle, you can run and call the points as you lay as a starfish in two ways (among countless others): round and through.

On your head is the point of Expansion. Expansion represents here the meaning of life itself. It is the blossom and fructifying of Sex and Love, and the full realisation of the being here in physical manifestation, on the Leading Edge of Thought, in this glorious earthly reality where we experience contrast and shock, make choices, decide, shoot rockets of desire, refine our feelings, attract what is like to us, and ultimately help the Universe expand.

On your left hand, the point representing The Source shines. The Source is really the place from which we all come, but never got disconnected. It is in every single aspect of you. In your dominant and subtle intents, in the intents of each cell of your body, and your shared intent as community. From the Source’s perspective, all intents are equally worthy, and all is well. The Source is undeniable; and for you are Source Energy, The Source is YOU. It is what witches would call God Herself, in whom we live, move and have our being. “From Her all things emerge, and unto Her all things return”. She is the reason why we are here, because our desires are Hers, and through them She experiences Herself, expands and grows in love and beauty.

On your left foot, you have your point of Guidance. Guidance is the resilient, persistent and very reliable voice of inner Wisdom that (no matter how shunned, repressed and ignored) tells you how far from the Source you are or not. It comes in the form of Passion, raw gut feelings and all other emotions. Your Guidance is Wisdom, it will never fail you, because it is your gut, your in-tuition, your proof of connection to God, and only it can reveal how stagnant, flowing or rotten the Water from your Star is. Nobody else.

On your right foot is the point of Becoming. As you awaken and become aware of Source, let yourself expand with it by desiring and following the inner Guidance wherever It leads you, you learn to take Pride in who you are, and become something more than what you were. Becoming is actually one of the very few real Laws of the Universe, and there is no escaping from it without paying more than one can afford.

On your right hand stands Allowing. Allowing is the ultimate Power we have in this life, and its our absolutely natural and default Nature. It is giving up on all lies and resistance against the Stream, holding on to useless attachments and complexes, and finally saying YES to the healing and exciting ride on divine waters. It takes us to places, because we have Become something else through alignment with Source, awareness of our Guidance and commitment to Expansion. If this is not Liberty, I do not know what is.

Around the Water Pentacle you have a way of Alignment motivated by willpower and intent, whereas upon moving through It you realise the points from a slightly different perspective, which enriches the realisations you had as you ran around the star: you have the support, love, confirmation and nurturing every time.

Expansion is the reason why we are all here. We are evolving perfection, not bored, just exercising the thrill and glorious joy that lust and desire give us.

We expand by Becoming. Something more, something else, something that has no need to fit in descriptions or pre-conceived concepts. It’s one of the most freeing experiences we have, and this is why it is so empowering and central in a well-lived life.

The Source becomes more through our own Becoming, and It is always backing us, and calling us back to It. Our existence is Its proof, our Expansion is all It expects, our Becoming is Its joy. It is just that simple.

Allowing is the experience of moving on from The Source and simultaneously going back to It. Allowing is not working hard to modify circumstances, follow rules and play roles. It is not giving others parts of the Self. It is not exercising force, either. It is going with the flow and trusting the Stream, with grace, freedom and great dignity.

All along the way, Guidance will keep you on track. It will never let go of you, especially if you let go of oars, shame, guilt, vanity and need for control. And the opinions, experience and judgements of somebody else. Only you know what is good and appropriate for you, and this is the promise from The Source. The way you feel, in your gut, is just what you need in order to tell if it is really on or off. If you are heading downstream or paddling upstream.

There are infinite different ways to experience the Water Pentacle. Some I have also been using other than Starfish energy work are journaling, dreaming, creative writing, singing, drumming and dance. Get acquainted with it the way it calls you to, and own the experience itself. Let everything else go back to The Source.

In the end, this Water Pentacle is little more than a sophisticated idea, and ideas are as good as this. Take it into consideration if possible, exercise if suitable, celebrate if desired, discard if preferred, live it out if you must, pass it forward if you will. But do not claim anybody own a very basic truth of our existence. Abraham, Victor, or me. Or you. We are all, absolutely all of us, Stars on Earth.

If you are interested in the Iron and Pearl Pentacles, check veedub’s DustBunny Big Damn Handout, or her articles on her personal website. Obviously you can also just google them up. If you are curious about the Teachings of Abraham, the Hickses have free introductory material available on their website. Feel free to search for Abraham-Hicks on Youtube, too. Watching Esther doing it live is one of the most thrilling things I have ever seen.

Explore. And flow on.

New Year Resolution '11

2010-12-31T12:46:00.002+01:00

Heeding the Music
That guides me around
I loosen, unshackle,
and lift off the ground

As the beat won't stop
I'll flow and I'll rock
I'll stomp and repeat
And follow the beat
And dance on ad lib
And never have fear

And if it's down tempo
I vow to sway and remain
Focused on basic routines
Serene, no rushing the train

As the beat won't stop
I'll flow and I'll rock
I'll stomp and repeat
And follow the beat
And dance on ad lib
And never have fear

And above all the casting
Of spells, binds and charms
I offer undivided attention
to the song of my heart

As the beat won't stop
I'll flow and I'll rock
I'll stomp and repeat
And follow the beat
And dance on ad lib
And never have fear

Tree

2010-12-21T17:20:00.004+01:00

My Autumn this year was very creative, as I knew it would be after a Spring of plowing and sowing and a Summer of expansion and celebration. Harvest was marvellous, and I can barely believe I've manifested for myself such amazing opportunities. My German teacher this year is awesome, very experient and very, very good. I'm always inspired in the class, and I learn from her not just a lot of German, but also how to be a better language teacher. I've found myself a Queer tango group here in Madrid, and have become a decent queer tanguero, pretty skilled in both roles, leader and follower. I'm so proud of my musical skills, that everytime I sit to improvise on the keys, or vocalise a little bit, or burst out in song, I feel shocked. And I haven't been drifting and bouncing around, looking for affection and sympathy, anymore. I've built a romance to remember in Italy earlier this month. I'm mature.

I've been away from my studies and training in the Craft of the Wise, though. My Craft is definetely still with me, and is very much a second nature, which I'm thankful for, but with so much going on, a strong desire to simplify in order to see clearly, and a heightened sense of responsibility in this advanced stage of my Saturn's Return, I was not willing to overburden myself with more. The Craft knows how to lurk in the shadows (always present!) before coming back to the spotlight.

I feel it's time to come back, though. Before the late sunrise in this shortest day of the year, I woke up several times with vivid and intense dreams and messages from the Otherworld. By now, almost time for the earliest sunset I'll see in a year, I've got only memories of strange characters and a clear message to go back to the Ways of the Land. I know what I will be busy with this Winter instead.

It's Midwinter today, and I had plan to enjoy the following many days off work and school to bask in my very fresh Music gift. But I guess I will also dedicate to taking small, baby steps back to the Old Ways my feet know well. I'm a seasoned witch, and a creative being in a personal zenith. Nothing has ever been out of reach, but with a tree of my nature the branches stem and move a long way from the trunk. I'll navigate my personal Tree of Life this coming season, and recount, revisit, retrieve, reground. And learn more. And keep growing. And move on.

Sincerity let me will. Trust made me dare. Simplicity helped me know. Wisdom led me to keep silent. Now I resolve to know myself in all my parts, so that I'm ready when the time to blossom comes around once again.

Image: Spiral tree from Seattle Metal Craft.

Fountain of Youth

2010-08-24T05:06:00.001+02:00

2010. What a Summer. I feel like my real life began just now.

Berlin was everything I always wanted to experience: daily dates with highly interesting men, easy and reliable friendships, flaneuring, bike riding, tango, music and a little bit of Witchcraft, all very well-balanced. Cologne was hawt: the coolest Pride ever, a handsome Summer affair, kinky stickers, tight underwear moments shared with a semi-stranger. Swansea was a melodic composition of music, silence, scandal and nothing-left-to-say. São Paulo was my fix and my eventual realisation that I have changed: silly social situations that offered very little, deep conversations on a new level with old friends, the clear paradox of loneliness in companionship and all it can teach about yourself and your needs. And Rio was all the crucible I resolved to use to begin life anew, and then some.

Today, in the last week of this super-magical and super-intense Summer, I've had the first professional reading in many years. An Obi lady, at a Umbanda house with a terrible vibe and lots of Catholic-Santería synchretic images, told me too many things about myself, my spiritual configuration, Water deities that patronise me, my past and my future. And the waterfall of memories, insight and resolutions that followed helped empower me again, after such a long time without proper grounding.

I discovered so much. When she told me that at the age of about 3 I was already leaving apart from my parents, and at the age of 9 I was already a lonely adult, I realised everything I missed my whole life: learning about relationships, learning to love and accept other people's emotions in a constructive way, music, adventures, playfulness. She said, "you were already an adult". And later on she insisted with me that I was young. In fact, she began the reading with the words, "you're still very young". And together with that the memories of bosses and lovers accusing me of being childish and immature cascaded in my mind. But with the new information of myself, shared with me with an astounding serenity, instead of feeling overwhelmed I was able to connect the dots and realise the Red Thread of my life. I haven't learned the mystery of Age in practice yet. This was priceless, even though the reading was very expensive.

I stayed the whole day with the hurt feeling and the understanding that my inner child needs attention, companionship and space to be an actual child. My inner child still begs to be taken care of, shown things about Self and others, played with, taken out to play. I need emotional education, like most of humankind. And I'm determined to provide myself with all I need, especially healing.

I've already journeyed to meet with my Inner Child tonight. What I learned was much and still being processed, but I already look different in the mirror. Mirror work is part of the tasks assigned by the reader, and I know I need it. The basics of Time Manipulation have it that to understand that when I know the way and am determined, Time's on my side.

Watch me as I grow younger now.

Image: Boto, a river dolphin from the Amazon.

Weitertrauen

2010-06-27T23:31:00.002+02:00

After succeeding in all examinations at school and returning from my 2 days in Barcelona, I've spent quite a few days preparing Germany. I am going to hit a major personal landmark by getting there. The German language was my final fantasy of capricious youth before diving head-first into full adulthood and strict responsibility for my life, my decisions and my chronic thought patterns. I embraced the tongue of poets and thinkers like a worthy lover, like there was no tomorrow, and I allowed in all emotions, vistas, lore and possibilities it encompassed. Two years later, one "next little step" after another, I've managed to find myself a two-week inmersion in one of the most vibrant cities in the West. Berlin. And the hottest Pride parade in Europe to boot. Köln.

And I want to be ready if this most huge baby step unfolds and makes for another. I will just keep saying Yes.

Image: me, loving life in Parc de la Ciutatela, one week ago in Barcelona.

Still on

2010-05-28T15:35:00.002+02:00

My story with the German language sounds too much like a sugary love story, with the perfect combination of serendipty and obstacles. And overcoming.

It all began when my vocal coach and I started a new Lied by Mozart, "Warnung", and then "Abendempfindung". Mozart is good for singing students, and I particularly love his songs. And that Jessye Norman's interview I had read several years ago still echoed in my mind. She was giving concerts in Brazilian cities and the newspaper my father subscribed to asked her if she was singing anything in Portuguese, to which she replied, "oh no, I'm sorry but I only sing in a language I can speak, it's more honest with the audience". So I figured that if I was going to sing in German, it would be less than artistic to do so without an understanding of what I was saying--and no, a translation in mind wouldn't do.

So, serendiptiously, a friend on Facebook invited me to this language learning online community still in its Beta version and free, Livemocha. They had an online course that wasn't really that good, but the community was vibrant, helpful and thriving. People actually helped each other without any expectation of reward. On there, I made several new friends, some of which recommended me further sources and tools, and I got from Ina, a German teacher of her native language in Paris, the heads-up for Deutsche Welle, which along with its amazing, free courses and podcasts (that I use to this day), became one of my favourite playgrounds in the web. I was with the Deutsch Interaktiv course for less than a year, but I completed the whole thing. During this time, I also had a language exchange with my German friend Tatjana, and after a whole year learning together, we flew to Zürich for Europride, and I enjoyed the opportunity to talk to the locals in German, and did pretty well.

Now, all of this was between Summer'08 and Spring '09. In May '09 I took an entrance exam at the local language school here in my neighbourhood (language learning in Europe is so cheap, convenient and easy!). Nobody I told, not even myself at first flush, could believe the results: after one year without classes or presential courses, they gave me the fourth year of the whole six-year program, corresponding to level B1.2 of the Common European Framework for Languages!

I was so enthusiastic about German now, that I resolved to make it the center of my life. Everything else I had invested in didn't work, but German did, and so smoothly that I didn't have the heart to deny a single second of my free time to this beautiful, beautiful language. So I invested the whole Summer in taking yet another course on Deutsche Welle's website, and got ready for another year of immense headway.

Then came Autumn, and because I had been unemployed, the Spanish government gifted me with a free course in Webdesigning. The course, aimed at unemployed people, was fulltime and every single day of the week, and I couldn't go to the language school until well into December. But I never let go of the position there, waiting for me.

When I finally managed to receive my first live lesson in German ever, I left the classroom with mixed feelings. I was much more able to speak and communicate in the language than I had imagined, and with real books and a class structure, I had such a marvellous nourishing environment that as a language teacher myself I knew would be extremely beneficial to me. But the teacher was an idiot. So were all of my classmates.

Of course, the whole thing by then had affected my ego, but the way my peers at school, teacher and fellow students, behaved was so disheartening that it was hard for me to adapt to that. I held my ground and exercised my patience, but also spoke only German during the class, brought always my monolingual dictionary with me, handed in all homework on time, arrived punctual, seized every second of every lesson, kept track of time and goals of every exercise, joined all group activities with a vision of learning and camaraderie. Even though none of the colleagues did so. And even though the teacher discouraged it.

Now the course has come to an end. Wednesday was our last class, and we were left with 40% of the book/contents blank and untouched. And the friends were confused. And the teacher was looking like a failure in front of the class. And I was a bit brokenhearted, since I had been living a romantic dream with those lessons, not just a chore.

They spent the whole year messing around and letting it all down the drain. Over these last couple of weeks, they were asking me for private lessons while waiting for the teacher, always late. I gave them. Now I'm sure until the final examinations, in middle of June, I'll have them ask me again. But I'll refuse this time. I don't need to feed their bad habits. They need to ask that from the teacher, not from a friend they laughed at. I need to focus and work on the contents that weren't taught in class, so that I don't miss this opportunity and fail in the finals. We've got much to study. I want to pass, and I know how to do this. I have done before.

I know this is the next hurdle, and I'm ready for it.

Grace

2010-05-25T15:41:00.003+02:00

It doesn't matter how much abuse you've suffered, or what happened to you, if you show yourself everyday the Grace that there is in the love your Divine Parent has for you, and the natural state of being that Love is, you will realise what is true and what is not. You will realise yourself. And this means taking nobody else's shit.

Today I am thankful.

Waxing Mystical

2010-05-24T11:14:00.001+02:00

Never underestimate the power a day without dates or plans has to transform things.

After a Saturday swept away by cleaning, household drama, and a soccer meeting followed by helping a friend getting laid, Sunday began lazy. Whatever little I had planned to do (cook lunch, German homework), all was clear and checked by noontime, and the long, late Springtime afternoon that follow set Magic afoot: listening to an Abraham Vortex workshop, blog-reading and blog-writing, a reading with my Osho Zen Tarot, interesting discussions in Internet forums, shopping for books online (dangerous one!), and revitalising the Witchcraft training I began in March. I wound up ordering a book on Amazon on Astral Travel. Perfect!

Things are moving again.

Image: Abyssinian Hare, by Jeff Kerby.

Summer Vistas

2010-05-23T17:07:00.001+02:00

The heat season has begun, I guess. I already feel like staying in an air-conditioned room all day when I'm not away, and making as many travel plans for the Summer as possible and affordable. So far, I've got Germany, Brazil and Wales/England.

Berlin will be my 2nd live-abroad experience, and I'm definetely looking forward to it. And hoping that the bastards at the Spanish government pay me on time for the work I did for them last month. This is the money I'll use to book the flight and rent a room in the German capital and apparently world's coolest city for 2 weeks or one whole month, in order to practice my German and network as much as possible in yet another culture.

Wales and England are a gift from the husband. He wants to visit a friend who lives there, and he knows I identify a lot with the culture, so he's bringing me with him.

Brazil is where my family of origin and the best friends I have in this Universe live, so I want to go back for refreshment and an identity fix.

If everything goes right, and I expect it does, I'll manage to spend the whole heat season out of this overpriced oven that is Madrid in the Summer.

Image: Unter den Linden's Festival of Lights, from http://www.flickr.com/photos/webinteger

Function of Time #4: Memory

2010-05-19T23:19:00.001+02:00

It's late already, I'm dead-tired from a hard day of work and school, and I still want to sit and write this. The English language doesn't have many words for this feeling, so I say I "want" to write, but it's actually a special type of "want". It's not backed by enthusiasm, inspiration or lust. It's driven by a deep feeling of inadequacy, destitution and even maybe a little self-loathing.

I used to be good at this. I mean, better than I am now, and I used to change the world with every piece. I remember it, even though there is no evidence of this around me anymore, and this absence hurts me. I'm a slave to the memory of good times.

These past days I've been reminiscing about Brazil, about moving to Spain, about several things in the past, and how everything was so fresh, and so powerful, and so spontaneous, and nothing was as complicated as it is now. Songs have been coming back to me, the soundtrack of other times. "Dandelion Wine", "Marcas do Que Se Foi"...

Memory, actual or imaginary, is the raw material of storyteller's business. I've traded freshness for stories, and I've got quite a few to tell by now.

My blogging is about to change.

Image: tree spirit carved by Colin Patridge.

Function of Time #3: Maturity

2010-05-17T23:21:00.002+02:00

It might be said that Maturity is the goal we as Birds decided to pursue when we came forth into the Physical. I personally disagree, but it is definetely not just a byproduct, but a process of Time, and Time is definetely characteristic of the Physical.

As a young brat, I never had any respect for the concept and the propaganda that revolved around maturity. But once it's here and you know it in your flesh, you know it's a good thing. Maturity has helped me sift, sophisticate and sediment my personal preferences, dreams and talents. Maturity allows more choice and a clever use of resources. Maturity has gifted me with the greatest of gifts, self-awareness. Maturity has pushed me to the edge, where the view is breathtaking. Maturity lets me have more fun.

On the other hand, I've been experiencing the feeling that the older you get, the harder it is to develop beneficial relationships. Boundaries are clearer, selfish intentions have a stronger call. And stupid games are just not necessarily part of the courtship anymore. Or at least, shouldn't.

Right now, I'm silently, elegantly letting go of quite a few relationships I've been cultivating for a while now. They just don't work, and aren't worth so much fuss. I'm not so enthusiastic about Couchsurfing anymore and I'm okay about admitting that. The vegetarians kept me company for two years, but are mostly gone by now. There are many people out there to meet, but frankly, not many of them are going to join my circle anyway. So, no rush. Time will reveal what I need to know, and provide.

This might be the first time in my life I'm truly fine with the idea of being alone.

Image borrowed from: http://really-rose.blogspot.com/

Function of Time #2: Cycle

2010-05-16T23:28:00.002+02:00

Even though the last one was certainly not natural and maybe a bit too long, this blog has seen inherent ups and downs in the frequency of new writings. Likewise, most types of relationships have an unstoppable crescendo and an according waning that follows, possibly to extinction. Do I have to say anything about mood and personal vibration? There's a cycle to everything. And as I'm sure I've written here, there's Power and Joy in joining the prospective growth, as well as Grace and Divinity in letting go of what's inevitably fading away.

I guess I'm in a period of reassessing and renovating my social circle. Couchsurfing, which was my favourite playground for a long time, just doesn't do it for me anymore. A vibrant community of world-travellers and edgy creators has withered to a meet-up line for retarded post-teenagers wanting to get drunk together spending as little money as possible. Or am I becoming old?

Some of the real friends I made there turned out to be disfunctional relationships based on mistrust and feelings of leeriness. One is only good as a party animal, and the relationship doesn't take off from there. The other is obsessed with words that MIGHT come across as "negative" and "put people down", deterring from heartful connection and sincere communication. A third one is too cool for the rest of the world. And obviously there're the ones who went away on time.

Other friends I met on other crossroads are naturally gone, too. I gotta be changing, and I'm praying that the familiar knowledge that change is good if it brings me closer to my highest vision for my Self comes back to me.

So are some relationships going away, gracefully. Others are on the way. And I'm retriving my blogging magic. My natural being. Back to the beginning? Might be. But wherever I am now, I'm ready for another journey circle round.

Pop. The Black Pearl is back from Davy Jones' Locker. With Captain Sparrow on board!

All in all, it's a pleasant surprise and a perfect moment to see Tribe finally active again. Makes me wonder if there's actually an end for everything. And feel warm inside.

Image: Robert Lyn Nelson's "Society". He was the first favourite painter I've ever had. I had several t-shirts with paintings by him printed on them.

Function of Time #1: Moment

2010-05-16T02:25:00.002+02:00

You see, I've been away for too long now, but I am very much still fascinated by the Time Element, and still learning from it. Right now, my favourite function of Time is Momentum. You know, this wave I've been missing time and time again in my Writing: Spring Equinox, Beltane, the day I applied for my Spanish citizenship, my 30 birthday. Not necessarily in this order, and definetely not only these.

Today I watched the power of Moment in human interactions and desires. My keen perception is something that takes me beyond gratitude these days. I don't know if I have anything else as valuable to me. The story happens on what I consider the biggest priviledge of my life in Spain, my gay men's yoga and meditation group. Indeed, the vast majority and almost totality of regulars is gay males, and on some days something (if not the Moon itself, probably a conspiracy of the Stars) decides that it's Time for heat. And from the beginning of the session on, there is a sharp scent of rutting stag in the air, filling the room throughout nevertheless perfect and very rewarding Yoga, meditation session, Heart Circle and other zen practices for three long hours. Then comes dinner as a group in a vegetarian restaurant.

Today was one of these special days. Fortunately, coinciding with my husband being out of town for the whole weekend. Before long, it was clear to everybody who would stay with who by the time dinner was over--some of them left in pairs immediately after we left the Yoga center. My favourite Tantra partner was all affection and physical intimacy with another friend. Some others avoided the swoosh by fleeing home. I was paired by chance with an old flirt, who happened to be in a bad moment: fresh split-up, resentment against his ex, high expectations, excessive focus on his emotional wounds, lack of trust in men in general.

I have this theory that Mr. Right is definetely not the right guy, but the right moment. My guy for tonight was in the wrong one. And as the others all came home accompanied, I came all by myself. He did, too.

I just didn't want to miss another moment and not post this here. I still hope I may be back to blogging.

Fluidity

2010-03-01T14:28:00.003+01:00

Beth Nielsen Chapman had it totally right in her singing: solid rocks are made of sand and water. Sand and water, and a million years gone by.

Time has the power to harden things, even things whose (healthy) nature aren't hard. Like ideas. Or relationships. But most especially, feelings. And I've been allowing myself to harbour too many of these watery creatures turned to icy stone over a long time without movement, expression or connection. Or even the warm light of a compassionate consciousness.

Almost three years later, I'm still trying to sort through my feelings and understand all the changes that moving to Spain has produced in me. My relationships became so different that I had to transform at lightspeed to catch up with the new beat, and as a result I had to let go of many of my old relationships that otherwise could have survived in this Internet age. I've had gains, and I've learned a lot. Plus, things change, and people and situations come and go, so I'm perfectly fine with that. However, no one can truly change at lightspeed in a gentle process involving consciousness, compassion and true learning. So, in order to not miss this huge opportunity of living in what is in many ways a safer environment, I've shrunk and de-volved to an egg, emotionally. With all sorts of unsorted shit I absorbed in the impact and just collected involuntarily in order to not skip a single beat. I did hit the ground dancing.

Such a faraway landing without healthy roots in the point of departure creates an uncontrollable need for new relationships, especially in those of us with an existential gravity center in the Heart chakra. So, in order to connect, I've taken just too much shit from others: my new family, wannabe "friends" and professional relationships. We all do, but when you're still learning to get back on your feet, any extra weight is too demanding. Traditionally, my strategy in times of great difficulty, as I learned maybe a bit too late in life, but still on time to avoid greater damage, is to turn my awareness off, and switch to autopilot. That might do for many areas of one's life, but certainly not for the feelings. The emotional Self is always awake, and if not taken care of, or listened to, will become harder than its healthy nature allows it to.

Last Saturday I had my last class on an Assertiveness course that led me through three day-long Saturdays of discussion, role playing, analysis, cathartic dancing and deep reflection. I signed up because I wanted just not to let grumpy, arrogant old farts stomp on my head at work, and I came out with fresh understanding of my emotional reality, one I never really had, despite a whole adolescence as a psychology geek.

I live in a culture now where every human interaction is based on abuse. This is shocking to me everytime I admit it to myself, and this is nothing I could ever prepared myself to, ever. I still don't know how I am going to manage, but I'm clear now: as I grow older and expand my territory, I need more fluidity. For my vocal expression, for my identity and for my emotional being.

I am not going to bear with people's agressiveness and hipocrisy. Productive relationships do not require that.

And I'm ready to let go.

Image: "Waterfall", by tlindle.

Dedication

2010-01-30T13:03:00.001+01:00

I've been working intensely with aligning my Triple Soul and letting go of complexes and blocks for the past seven years. Now, on Brighid, I resolve to embark on a further spiritual journey with Tantra. After reading and experiencing it with a couple of partners, I have decided that it is just what I need as the next natural step in my personal path, since it complements so well my desire to be fully possessed by my Godself and let my awareness merge with my spark of Divine Consciousness, and helps me completely merge my Aetheric Double with my Shining Egg, as true Ke Kino Wailua (the body of two waters).

I have begun practicing the Bhuta Shuddhi ritual this week. The name means "Purification of the Elements", and it is a core and advanced rite for the true Tantric adept. So far, I am still training myself to remember the elements, area and bija mantra of each chakra as I go up the ladder to pure consciousness and back to full-blown physicality again. Soon, I'll incorporate the corresponding senses and actions for each center, too, and finally visualise each chakra in its shape, symbol and colour. By then, when I climb all the way up to the Sit of Chit, I will have learned the true way to possession.

I have never ceased to be on a spiritual roll, not even when I was on an apparent hiatus. Each time I'm done with a stage, the new step miraculously shows up and invites me to climb. It is a good thing I haven't allowed money-hungry, retarded, confused losers exercise authority over my path.

On to the next stage now. All by my Self, and guided by Spirit.

30 vs 40

2010-01-28T20:20:00.002+01:00

I've stopped blogging about Saturn's Return and the cycle with professional drama seems to be complete now, but lack of ripples doesn't mean the water is stagnant. Quite on the contrary, it means movement is reaching incredible depths and the water is unstoppable on its way. And being cunning means not only respecting the flow, but also joining the ride.

In less than two months I'm turning 30, and I'm married to a guy who turned 40 just a few months ago. Both ages are key points in a Western man's life, especially a Gay one, but they're radically different, and it's a tad bad idea to pretend they're not.

Thirty years is about helping define your generation. Here you begin to stack up personal merits, you are at the zenith of your personal drive and desire, and this is the turning point from growing up to consuming your living matter. A pagan youth and a yoga-trained awareness have helped me finish up my 20s in apparent perfect alignment with my natural cycle and connection to my Source. I am really living this moment now. Plus, I have a direction, and in reality nothing can stop me now.

The other half of what is supposed to be the equation is my man. He's been there, carried out the whole process, and now finally sits at his personal throne. He's probably not happy with what he got from life (otherwise he wouldn't act so consistently like he wasn't), but he's now living HIS moment of letting go of goals, and declining compromisations. Maybe the ten-year gap that separates him from me is the reason, but he realises his mortality now, probably more clearly than me, he knows that it will all pass, that life will be over one day and that's it's too short for long-term investments. Now He wants to have fun. Right now.

I understand that his approach and perspective is probably the one closest to enlightenment, but rushing enlightenment is one million times worse than sticking to ignorance. I understand, too, that I'm not either fully enlightened, nor pushing myself to be enlightened, nor in the spiritual dark. I am just in my moment. And my moment's very important to me because it is part of my dream, and my dream is me.

Today I tossed my both-eye-painted Daruma doll to the Madrilean lake. From a heart filled with gratitude I’ve let go of it by walking away from the water without looking back, as Brazilian spellcasting tradition has it. But I’m not ready to let go of who I am, and the wave I’m currently riding is part of my wholly Being.

Old Lore

2010-01-10T00:09:00.002+01:00

This afternoon I decided to take a nap for vibrational purification, and had a very intense and initiatory dream I very disgracefully didn't record on my Book of Stars. However, I do remember waking up with this very old mantra in mind, a lovely song I learned from my first Yoga instructor 13 years ago, and never forgot:

Quero olhar-me em ti
Ó espelho cristalino do amor
E seguir teu caminho
Esquecer dos espinhos
E fazer muita gente feliz

Perdão se eu não posso seguir
Tudo aquilo que você me ensinou
Só te peço que faças de mim
Um instrumento de paz e de amor
Um instrumento de paz e de amor

It still shocks me that after all this years, this song/mantra is the only thing I've never ever been able to find on Google searches.

I began searching Orphism and Orphic Mysteries later in the evening. Might be related, might not.

New Year Resolution '10

2009-12-31T11:39:00.003+01:00

On the way:
Riding the wind
And all on my own
I heal and I learn
My working gets done

The way to:
To drink from this well
And cross through the river
I bathe in the Source
Smoke off the Mirror

Trade:
I offer one eye
To be able to see
And rover the world
My wings and no creed

And again:
I let go of concept
So that I may know
Nine worlds, and in there
Replenish my soul

Midwinter '09

2009-12-21T22:55:00.002+01:00

Earlier this calendar-year, I wished for a professional direction, a career path I could dedicate myself to and feel whole, replenished and profoundly rewarded; and I painted my Daruma doll's right eye. This Autumn, I began teaching English and Portuguese, and for the first time ever I experience both a sharp consciousness and a keen responsibility, as well as serenity and satisfaction, intertwined in a very organic way while winning my bread. I am poor, and I know Summer will be financially challenging since most students and schools won't hire me for the Summer months, but I wouldn't trade this feeling of rightness for any money in the world. I'm just not that kind.

In wondrous synchronicity with this alignment, projects and dreams I had deemed false and fantasy, and ditched along the past few months, have returned to my life naturally. And lost-case investments I had taken on naturally withered and disappeared somehow.

Like a river effortlessly finding its course to the Ocean and nourishing all beings along the way, personal truth cascades over my life and bathe me in simple bliss, while washing away the lies and expectations with Webdesign and an office slave lifestyle. I'm now back to my Portuguese-Music tandem, fully landed on the Musical Path my Inner Being craved so much for, and allowing this grounding to remodel my perceptions of the world by experimenting with tonal patterns. The fresh air that Tantra brought to my spiritual path has been blowing my mind in such a way that I don't even need to consciously cast the circle, ground and center to invite its wisdom in and inspire me, breathing deep and true love into all my three souls. I'm not only cooking more, but letting the fire of my creativity transform aspects of my life, burn away the crap and actually nourish me. And now that I finally have time to attend my German lessons, I'm learning so much about how all of this fits together that I'm convinced Wittgenstein was right. Language is a gift of Spirit. It's not just the limits-of-my-language = limits-of-my-world thing. The equation goes much deeper, and I'm sure Ludwig could see that.

Now I can, too. And I don't know if it'll help Daruma see it, too, but keeping my promise, tonight I gave him his left eye. Now I know what I should dedicate myself to for money, wisdom, love, truth and the whole shebang.

I'm whole, and I'm absolutely blessed tonight.

I wish you a blessing Winter Solstice.

Severance

2009-11-20T20:13:00.002+01:00

Today I threw away a pair of navy blue Reeboks I had bought back in 2002. The 1st pair of shoes I throw away in a good while.

I don't consider myself attached to my things (except maybe a few books, a couple of CDs and of course my mage props), and I certainly don't make a lot of trash compared to the common man with lifestyle, social class and eating habits similar to mine, but throwing shoes away always have an uncannily strong impact on my emotional welfare.

This has been a good week, professionally. I got the O.K. from the boss to buy the method books and CDs for the elders I teach on Wednesday, yesterday I was met with grins and title-embellished greetings when I arrived at the school, and the manager of the center I teach on Fridays told me this morning that the students (old, grumpy Spaniards, mind you!) are happy with me. And then she told me we should talk one of these days. I felt so relieved.

But now, at the Webdesign course, I'm realising I haven't put as much attention and effort as I probably should, and as a result I'm not learning. Nobody else really is, but I've been physically, emotionally and (most especially) intelectually tired. Exhausted. The teacher being an inept who can't teach anybody anything really, refused to help me today. And here I am, being weird and unfriendly with people (not really impolite), and feeling like I don't have friends or family in this world. It always happens when I toss shoes, and I'd definetely love to know why.

My husband is leaving for the weekend with his friends and without me for the billionth time, and for the first time I feel awful about it. My vegetarian gang has organised a night out tonight and haven't invited me. I invited them for the Yoga meeting tomorrow and they all have other plans.

It's shocking and it's novel, but I'm taking it all personally this time around.

I thought of putting an image of the old shoes on this blog entry, but then on a second thought I decided it'd be too depressing. So it is gone now, and I don't have a visual token of it. It's probably better this way.

A Day

2009-11-15T22:16:00.001+01:00

I might have missed something, but for some reason I don't completely get, over the past year I have shifted radically from a colourful brat, emanating Energy and loudness, to a very sober advocate of discreetness and lover of the Santosha life. Might have been Enlightenment.

Today is a day I cherished in every way and second, and two years ago, I'd want to commit suicide for pushing myself through it. I woke up much later than usual, and spent a long time cuddling in bed with my husband. By the time I got up, I wasted the little time I had left before lunch doing absolutely nothing interesting in the Internet. Then I ate, did a few things I wanted to do for a quite some days now (cleaned the glass-ceramic, placed an ad to give away a CD rack we don't want anymore, studied a little German) but wasn't able to, and went to teach an EFL class--yeah, but I'm not even mad that I have to "work" on Sundays. This student is a joy. Then I came back home, had a lovely warm shower and had dinner. All very slow, very low-key and very peaceful.

Then, at times during a day spent mostly on a high, pleasant vibration, I worried again about my teaching gig with the retired people. I'm going to ask my coordinator for a method on Wednesday, and there's the student who had offered to get the methods for me free of charge. I hate to go through that drama. My husband says it's a feeling of cowardice I have, but I disagree. I was feeling really good about this job until I realised I would need some planning, some structure to ground on and not feel so pressured to "be imaginative".

But I don't want that to ruin the following days, like it has made last week hell-like. I will watch one of my Pink Panther DVDs now, go to bed not too late and wake up cheerfully to a seemingly boring Monday.

Life can be very pretty after you begin manipulating Time.

Browsing

2009-11-13T19:55:00.002+01:00

In my current phase of restlessness, I've been reading Internet pages about Witchcraft like crazy. And I'm partially obsessed with the idea of finding a partner to study and practice Tantra with. Live.

Today I mentioned to some students at the Friday intermediate group I teach that I'll begin using a book for our weekly lessons. They were quick to show moderate support for the idea, and one of them offered to order with his book-dealer friend the books for all of us (my Teacher's copy and his colleagues' Student's version). I felt so good that in some way the Big U supported my decision to take the easy road and rely on a book instead of only my personal Creativity with Serendipity. Although I won't be fully relaxed until I have the book in my hands, and at least half of the students do, too (I've learned that managing groups and relying on their initiative can be VERY frustrating); but I feel much more confident for the following weeks. Basically, I feel I only need to survive and make-do until the book is around. So, I feel mentally free and emotionally serene enough to surf Witchvox's EXTENSIVE archives, scan past threads on Internet discussion boards, nibble on several covens' online Disk of Shadows and so on. Replenishing times.

I'm also finding chunks of time for practice, not just browsing and collecting theory. Last night I made a brisk session of devotional dance for my Triple Soul and worked some with Energy. Tonight I'll play some with the Gaiadon Heart techniques I learnt this Autumn.

And I'm still to find a tantric partner for live practice. Like the book, he'll come. Providential.

Image: "The Old Librarian", by Myrea Pettit (from www.fairiesworld.com)

First Crack

2009-11-12T16:30:00.002+01:00

Overstimulation when I am far from my Kala state is certainly one of the feelings I dread the most, but I will credit overstimulation as the motivation for cracking the thick ice that had accumulated all over me for the past, unfortunate months of writing deprivation and regular detouring.

Japanese charms are usually powerful. When I was in Sampa almost one year ago, I bought myself a Daruma doll, wished that I had a career to tend to and a professional identity to ground on, and painted his left eye black. One year later, my Basic Self is feeling overwhelmed with the creative rush that teaching English to retired folks has brought into my life for the past two and a half months.

The feeling is not comfortable, though. I definetely feel awake and alive, but also overwhelmed, obsessed and about to crack under the pressure that being an authority figure for five considerably-sized groups of people fifty years older than you produces.

I feel I'm all by myself in this responsibility, but I'm keen on using tricks and searching for sources of help and support. This weekend, I'm buying a book to use with them in the classroom, so I can relax and let go of the never-ending responsibility of planning and creating class activities. Yesterday I fortunately wrote Diane, and she opened my eyes to the fact that I've expanded so much with this new job that I can't even contain myself. I've managed to finally relax after understanding this.

Some plans for the long-term: a scholarship to get my Master's degree (probably in the German language), go back to witchcrafting, cull and let go of duties and obligations that aren't really mine.

So there's no more elusive dreams with Music, short-lived creative fires of Cuisine, or expectations with Webdesign for me. Next Winter Solstice my Daruma doll is gaining his other eye.

Becoming Ripe

2009-09-22T16:54:00.002+02:00

I don't know if this blog will become a solstice/equinox thing now, but I know it is a pity I have been away from writing for so long. No idea of who to blame, and no use in that, either, but I can still hear the Inner Voice, despite claiming inability to listen most of the time.

On this Autumn Equinox, I realise I am finally approaching the zenith of my life. I am finally coming to full adulthood. I don't know if I'm mature yet, and probably not, but my relationships, my goals, my schedule and my moods have been taking less swings lately, and my attention deficit doesn't get the best of me that easily anymore.

There is much to tell in exemplifying that, but I'm leaving it all for future blog entries, and concentrating on the core: It is time now to learn how to get what I want, how to consolidate processes, and how to focus on one project, one person, one theme. And in all I do these days, that is what moves me; from sexual intercourse with other men of all ages, to the creative projects I've been dedicated to.

This blog is still one of them, renewed by the harvested blessings this Equinox.

Image from Alicorn Arts.

Midsummer '09

2009-06-21T13:40:00.001+02:00

Today the Sun God dies out to preserve the Earth and save the crops, and the Holly King takes over with His cold-ass stare and hands supple enough to help us sort through our shit and decide what's got to give. After intense personal experiences with the blinding light of the Oak King this Winter and Spring, I've already got it very clear what to burn on the Bonfire tonight. As usual.

Saturn's Return was a bitch. Still is, actually. It has actually made me confused enough to put my life a little bit on hold for the first time in many years, and it was a good thing I had already learnt about resting on the boat and trusting that downstream is the way to go. I still don't know what I'm gonna do with my professional life, but I've managed to maintain a positive attitude and outlook on the subject. And, more importantly, not to freeze.

Xmas with my family of origin back in Brazil didn't feel weird at all until I came back to Spain and began taking down on my Morning Pages all the shit I had to take in while I was there. You don't ask somebody you love to lie, to hide away or to pretend to be somebody else after they've spent one year and half away if you actually love them. I realise they don't really love me, they're just destitute, needy and conditioned to a perfect family façade. I don't really hate my parents, but I'm tired of "understanding" them, so I guess the only way out of this emotional maze is letting go.

Speaking of relationships, my marriage has slowly but steadily grown to a much more mature, solid and relaxed structure, mostly due to an ability to let go and reframe from my part. It is true that some of the evolution is set about and carried on individually and intimately, and that nobody is meant to change or stifle in order to fit, definetely not me, and that it's all very, very good when you just focus on the willingness to stay together despite everything. When the castle of cards fall, you only stay with the good stuff. This is what it means to live drama-free, and I'm enjoying the idea made reality.

Socially, I've become an unhatched egg again, but I'm very cool with that. I think I'm learning how to turn on the social butterfly when wanted, then just revelling in the shade and wallflowering my way through the night when it suits me. But in any case, it's never a necessity, and should not be one. I've let go of abusive situations and groups (more than one, yeah), and I'm feeling really good after dropping the deadweight.

Yet, I still torture myself with the accusations many people have used to control me and cut my wings. I write time and again on my Morning Pages about being considered childish, having Peter Pan syndrome, and refusing to grow up and be independent. Then I look around and find my sister, who won't move out on her own because she doesn't want to wash her own panties; my parents, who don't trust their own feelings, and then naturally don't trust anybody else around them; my husband, who won't let go of his old college buddies and find new circles and environments; drunkards still seeing natural, legitimate and creative leaders as oppressive parents and school teachers; bosses selling lies they barely believe in; needy bitches playing emotional blackmail games.

I don't have anything to burn on the Midsummer bonfire tonight other than these sick games and attachments, but they'll definetely become nourishing ashes for a future harvest. I'm free.

Image: a butterfly inside the flame. The Butterfly is my oldest and most reliable Power Animal.

Pluto

2009-06-01T17:34:00.003+02:00

I may be narcisistic and emotionally unstable, but when called for, I can be a tough bitch with a rare sense of unattachment, Spiritual strength, and a very positive instinct of moving on. I have just dropped off of the Couchsurfing group that had become a cornerstone of my life for the past few months, and I'm amazed at how good, light and proud I feel about it.

On Saturday, I grew sick and tired of moochers and drunkards with no sense of limit. Everybody else did, too, but only I decided to speak up, and on Sunday I posted an explosive open letter at the group's board, telling off those who deserved it. As usual, (almost) everybody turned against me, and suddenly I became public enemy. Not that I'm complaining, quite on the contrary. As they were angry with me, and I wanted to smack each of them on the face--the parasites for being parasites, and everybody else for being cowards--, I just hit the "leave group" button after deleting all the contributions I made as a moderator. I'm still undecided as to what I'm gonna do with the blog, 'cos that's not mine only to make vanish, but I don't think it'll remain associated with the group. If it does, I'll delete all recipes I posted there, which comprises of at least more than half of all contents.

I remember my favourite astrologer of all time and witchy-buddy Elide Cascone telling us in a lecture once, "Pluto plucks by the root". On Sunday I had taken a "what Sailor Moon character are you" quiz on Facebook, and the stupid quiz gave me Sailor Pluto.

I treasure my ability to draw inspiration from anywhere.

London

2009-05-19T17:36:00.003+02:00

My husband gifted me with a trip to London for my birthday this year. Given our financial status, that was quite outrageous of him, and I certainly acknowledge that, his commitment to fulfill an old dream of mine and his willingness to compensate me for a depressing, blank birthday I had last year.

We stayed for three nights with a Polish friend of his living there, and we managed to cover a lot of the world's coolest city's attractions. I even joined local Couchsurfers on an Europride evening at a typical English pub in Euston. We saw lots of things, I managed to take pictures despite his impatience, we saw Celtic, Egyptian and Greek treasures at the awesome British Museum, and I got a kick out of the whole experience.

It was especially hard for him to join me on that, and certainly not because of lack of funds. He's the typical Spaniard, so he's anglophobic down to his last cell. His remarks and constant comparisons with Spain and his harsh criticism of problems that only existed in his mind deterred us from a truly romantic experience, but of course I'm quite used to that. So I just practiced my vibrational hygiene and enjoyed the ride: double-deck buses, wonderful Asian food, riverside walks, great live music, cosmopolitanism and being present in flesh and bones at the sceneries of so many incredible feats, from groundbreaking T-Mobile TV ads to the most interesting history of Modern Age and the 20th century. It's like I'm more part of it now.

Here are the photos of our adventure:

http://picasaweb.google.com/Awen1980/London09#

We spent there the International Day against Homophobia (Sunday, May 17th) together, so I didn't join any public acts, such as the Besada in Plaza Mayor here in Madrid, but today I've been watching this video and listening to this song the whole day. How funny and inspiring:

Now tonight I'm having a potluck with Couchsurfers again, and this time it's a 1001 Nights theme night. Everybody's bringing a dish with a tale to tell, a la Scheherazade, and I'm bringing my stories of London to tell over a Ploughman's Lunch recipe I'm going to prepare right now.

Manpulating Time

2009-05-13T00:33:00.003+02:00

Dr. Overtone has taught me to experience the Beat from walking. Each foot landing on the ground is a beat, and on the average human walking we learn to count like Baroque masters did: tempo 92. Because we use two feet, have a symmetrical body, and the ego functions on duality, the most immediate way to accentuate the beats is Duple Meter. In most of the Western world kids are lucky enough to study Music at school, and Doc says they all learn at the band that left foot is one, right foot is two. Doo-day, doo-day, doo-day and so begins the magic of Time Manipulation, embellished with variations of sound and gaps of silence.

Duple meter is natural. It's the music that moves wild crowds, and that uniformises men in uniforms as they drill in perfect synchronization, the beat that makes men and women who have nothing in common feel a sense of belonging to an abstract and unrealistic creation such as a "country". One foot and then the other creates Order. Doo-day is the template for national anthems, for rebellious chanting, for bulding up rage, lust and other basic functions of mind and movement.

But then Doc taught me something else. Add another weak beat before counting Doo again. Left, right, left, and Doo when right hits the floor. Doo-da-dee, doo-da-dee, doo-da-dee. Now one transcends the reality of the body, has reached for a level of understanding that isn't contained in the bicameral mind. One has been unfolded beyond one's own nature in a sense, so if duple meter is natural, triple is supernatural.

If two is order, three is subversive. Triple meter is the gateway to Spirit, the root of medieval religious music, of spaces created to stir love where love needed to be tamed. In three come the Gods of Faerie, and triune is the shining God hidden within the heavy, cold and unfriendly stone walls built ten centuries ago.

The Time element is definetely associated with the Three all over the world. The Norns, the Hours, the three parts of a well-told story. The Holy Trinity; The Twins and The Mother; the Oak King, the Holly King and Mother Earth. The Welsh Triads; Iron Age/Middle Ages/Modern Age; before, breakthrough and after. It takes three to manipulate Time. For a long time, we've known the secret--that the secret is in Time.

I'll have to get back to you on 5/4 and 7/4. I've begun trying them out just today, and loved the intoxication they produced.

Image: Zoomorphic Triskele, by Owen C. R. Pierce.

Creative Plenitude

2009-05-05T13:12:00.002+02:00

I've been incredibly creative lately, which probably explains why my blog has just broken a personal record for partial inactivity period. My blog's long been a device to help me zig-zag my way around creative blocks, and sometimes blast through them. But no blocks lately, whatsoever. Not even money.

1st, I've remained a kitchen maven these past few months, and there's the brand new cookbook project I've released to the world yesterday, a blogspot blog with recipes from my Couchsurfing group, "Madrid: Cooking". I'm really proud of that, and eagerly hoping the rest of the gang will help me keep it permanently growing. Here it is.

Then, German and Music have been keeping me really busy. I'm still with the Deutsche Welle online course, and the headway is shining. Musicwise, my piano lessons with Hector are my favourite time of the week, and we're about to begin working with the full diatonic scale. The method Hector's applying is based on improvisation, so first we've played with the Pentatonic scales, then one Hexatonic, and now I've got five notes in the Dorian mode--with both hands on the keys! I'm sure this Thursday or the next, I'll be receiving either the full scale or another chord to mess around with. Also, I've signed up for the public Language and Music schools. Now let's see if I'm lucky enough to have my name picked on the public lottery that decides who gets a seat!

And now there's the brand new world that is Dreamwidth.org, which I'm not only exploring, but helping to build from ground zero. I've already created two communities there, one for the Art of Allowing and the other for Songwriting, and I'm sure that will be the next "original" for my blog--I'll definetely keep blogspot up for ppl who want to comment but don't want to join any network website to post comments, Yahoo 360º will be the place where the blog is non-discontinued, and Tribe is down again at the time of this writing. Dreamwidth is vibrant, new and full of really interesting people and a feeling of eagerness in the air. My dreamwidth address is awen.dreamwidth.org, but alas I cannot issue invites.

Hail the bonfires of May Day!

Time Element

2009-04-25T22:56:00.001+02:00

Everyday now I sit at the keyboard, more than once a day. I feel the beat, and don't begin until I'm sure I can follow it. Then, riding on it, I feel the way each note means different things as it responds to different notes that sounded just before it. The fourth dimension. Then I pay close attention, and suddenly I'm riding a tsunami of meaning, instead of merely the wave of beat.

Music might be defined as the art of filling time with sound. Music is allowing me to come back to the beginning of Time, and begin anew.

I'm not very old yet, but this is how it should've been since the very beginning.

Straight into my recipe book

2009-04-14T22:11:00.003+02:00

A GREAT RECIPE

1. Take a 10-30 minute walk every day and while you walk, smile. It is the ultimate anti-depressant.

2. Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day. Meditate/pray about what is going on in your life. Buy a lock if you have to.

3. When you wake up in the morning complete the following statement, 'My purpose is to __________ today. I am thankful for______________'

4. Eat more foods that grow on trees and plants and eat less food that is manufactured in plants.

5. Drink green tea and plenty of water. Eat blueberries, wild Alaskan salmon, broccoli , almonds &
walnuts.

6. Try to make at least three people smile each day.

7. Don't waste your precious energy on gossip, energy vampires, issues of the past, negative thoughts or things you cannot control. Instead invest your energy in the positive present moment.

8. Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a pauper.

9. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.

10. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

11. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

12. You are not so important that you have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.

13. Make peace with your past so it won't spoil the present.

14. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

15. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.

16. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: 'In five years, will this matter?'

17. Forgive everyone for everything.

18. What other people think of you is none of your business.

20. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

21. Your job won't take care of you when you are in need.. Your friends will. Stay in touch!!!

22. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

23. Each night before you go to bed complete the following statements: I am thankful for __________. Today I accomplished _________.

24. Remember that you are too blessed to be stressed.

25. When you are feeling down, start listing your many blessings. You'll be smiling before you know it.

Some Good Friday Abe'ing

2009-04-10T15:08:00.000+02:00

"It feels good to see the world through the eyes of Source, doesn't it?"

Parallel Worlds

2009-04-07T17:05:00.001+02:00

I have noticed this blog has been silent these days, and I haven't done much to change it. I've had just too many stories to tell, but given that Tribe.net, where this blog haa its primary residence, is basically dead, and since I've been totally immersed and fed exclusively by the Couchsurfing community, I haven't really wanted to change the circumstances. I've just decided to allow them to teach me whatever I needed to learn, and give me a story to tell that's more than just narrative.

When I joined Couchsurfing, all my friends who were on both websites were telling me that Couchsurfing was Tribe.net's next step. Not what I found, not so. After an intense Winter of activities with people from all over the world that included cuisine, travelling, explorations, teaching and sharing, creative group work, and sex, I can say that while it's true that both are two sides of the same coin, while Couchsurfing is about bringing the connection onto Meatspace, Tribe.net is about preserving the intimacy and profound spiritual surrender that an experience shared only intellectually/emotionally, such as a blog followed regularly, can grant.

I've taken kids from several countries visiting Madrid for walking tours and to my gay yoga'n meditation group. I've shared a kitchen and prepared brilliant food collectively with others. I've also been taken care of by "Internet acquaintances" when I was getting sick, and I've gotten laid with one guy I met there. While these things haven't happened with people in my Tribe's friends list, they certainly created a feeling of community and intimacy with people I met in my new home. Still, I can't find an appropriate time to discuss with them things I discuss so naturally here in my blog with these incredible people who read me, and leave me comments. Couchsurfing is a clean, silver mirror. Tribe.net is the black one, where I can gaze into the timeless wisdom of the Outter Space as it reflects my Inner landscapes.

As I've lived great adventures in the physical dimension of life with Courchsurfers, I've come to learn a lot about myself. About my resistances, about Relief, about my true skills, about my most sincere offerings. Probably as much as I've learnt by blogging, and certainly experienced just as much wonder as writing regularly. But connection isn't really complete.

So, I'm hoping that, even though Tribe.net is essentially dead, I'll be able to keep living my parallel life in the Dark Realms of Annwn, while remaining lord of Dyfed. One thing doesn't substitute the other. And the greatest blessings in life are showered on you while crossing the bridge between them.

Image: Òsùmàrè. Afro-Brazilian deity of Divination and the umbilical cord, the Rainbow Serpent who dwells in-between, and connects humanity with Supreme Divinity. He spends half of the year as a man, half of the year as a snake.

On the verge of Equinox

2009-03-17T13:30:00.001+01:00

Happy St Paddy's/All Snakes Day, gang.

Today I woke up before four a.m. and couldn't fall asleep again. That's certainly strange to a heavy sleeper like myself, and also for Spain's usual times (everything here is later--bedtime, food, work--, especially because Spain is crossed by Greenwich, but insisted on adopting the timeline of the rest of the Continent); but in the light of my momentum, if it doesn't make sense that I feel less need to sleep, at least it means I might be feeling readier than usual. And boy, I am.

I've had a whole year virtually unemployed, except for some classes I've taught and odd jobs, and it seems that I was blessed with the gift of knowing how to use time from the day I was born. I have invested in many beautiful, important, urgent and spiritual projects that have come to generous fruition (except for Music, but, oh, well...) and now I've been feeling eager to step out of the coccoon again.

I've mentioned here in my blog several times how I've been managing to learn German so easily without a teacher. I've been meeting my German friends every week for six months now for our language exchange, and probably we will continue, so now I'm confident enough to chat with the Austrians in Busuu.com without looking up in a dictionary too often. I've also been given heads-up for a fabulous free online German course that has taken me to a level that would probably be considered intermediate. And I'm learning many songs in this beautiful language.

All my immigration paperwork is definetely taken care of, and despite the crisis and the long wait for the validation of my studies, much of my life is regularised by now, and I'm eligible for many jobs here in Spain. Or anywhere in Europe, really. That also entitles me to study, though not regular schooling or University degrees yet. For that, I'm still on hold.

I have been cooking like CRAZY. Together with Gay marriage, food is probably the only thing that makes me consider myself blessed for living in Spain, so I figured I might as well use the opportunity to earn something that will serve me for life. I've downloaded torrents and videos to perfect my tostatura and mantecatura techniques, and my risotto now is even more fabulous. I have prepared a wicked vegetables paella earlier this month for friends and strangers. I can make a dozen more different sauces that everybody I know in Brazil can--tomato, cheese, Asian, stir-fry. Vegan or with dairy. It all.

I can travel now, and I have, and I will. I've been such a prolific social animal in Couchsurfing, always solving blocks that a traumatic upbringing brought me, learning new tricks and words in many languages, shooting great photos and building up a profile there full of "medals": great references, vouches of trust, reliable connections. Now I have doors open for me pretty much in any country of the world.

Doesn't mean I'm already done: I still have two levels of my German course with Deutsche Welle to go before my Zertifikat comes, my travelling is about to begin tomorrow night on a bus ride to the Mediterranean, my all'onda technique still needs polishing (the ultimate goal is to become a master in all things Rice), I want to begin experimenting with Raw Vegan food now, and only in May Escuela Oficial de Idiomas will open for me to sign up for classes.

More important: when I'm back from Valencia next week, I'll be candidating for a possible job I've already got in sight. And I'm ready for even more sowing, sprouting and blooming with a paycheck. March 20th is Autumn where I was born, but I'm definetely a Springtime baby.

Hail Ostara!

Image: the first blossoms in my potted garden this year.

I Still Remember

2009-03-16T23:55:00.003+01:00

Song Title Meme (stolen from Nisey)

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. Pass it on to people you like and include me. Try not to repeat a song title. It's harder than you think.

Pick Your Artist: Blackmore's Night (just 'cos they have just too many songs and that makes it easier, hehe)

Are you male or female: Faerie Queen

Describe yourself: Self Portrait

How do you feel about yourself: Ghost of a Rose

Describe where you currently live: World of Stone

If you could go anywhere, where would you go: Streets of London

Your favorite form of transportation: Wind in the Willows

Your best friend is: Village Lanterne

Your favorite color is: Shadow of the Moon

What's the weather like: Under a Violet Moon

Favorite time of day: Beyond the Sunset

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called: Queen for a Day

What is life to you: Castles and Dreams

What is the best advice you have to give: Where Are We Going from Here

If you could change your name, what would it be: Cartouche

Your favorite food is: Dandelion Wine

Thought for the Day: I Guess It Doesn't Matter Anymore

How I would like to die: Avalon

My soul's present condition: Home Again

The faults I can bear: Fool's Gold

My motto: Play Minstrel Play

Image from: http://picasaweb.google.com/jerrybrendle

Great Divination Game

2009-02-26T18:17:00.003+01:00

[Stolen from Aster]

CREATE YOUR OWN ALBUM COVER!

1. Go to Wikipedia. Hit “Random” or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2. Go to "Random quotations" or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php

The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3. Go to Flickr and click on “Explore the last seven days” or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4. Use Photoshop or Gimp or similar to put it all together.

5. Post it to your blog with this text in the "Caption" and Tag the friends you want to join in. (You can un-tag yourself if you don't want this photo up.)

Adulthood, part two

2009-02-06T20:04:00.002+01:00

Almost one year later, I'm back to that awful situation most people go through from time to time: job hunting. The general feeling is one I'm probably too used to, to not let it let me down anymore. But the intensity of the feelings of confusion and an overwhelming amount of dead-ends I've been facing lately, although not new, are certainly stronger than the best of me.

I've been feeling really lonely, with nobody to sit down and talk, vent, and maybe brainstorm with to find a solution to my personal crisis which, contrary the one currently advertised on the Media, is very real. I don't really have friends here that would sit down with me in a quiet atmosphere just to listen to me, and then share from the heart. The few friends I've made here all have their own turmoil, because they're all immigrants, too. The kids from Couchsurfing are not the talking kind; they're just folks to have a drink and laugh at nonsense with into the night. Then there's Jose's friends, who aren't really looking at me as a person with feelings and emotional blocks, after ten months being supported by their old friend. The Osho Zen Tarot is always an incredibly magical experience every time I check in with it--always the most comforting, the sweetest and the best feeling message for me regarding this issue. But then I check in on Infojobs.net, and absolutely everything advertised there is beyond my reach.

No, not really everything. I've candidated for some job vacancies. Me, and other 220+ candidates. That probably speak "native" Spanish and have a dozen more languages and specialization courses than I do.

The feeling of being useless is awful. I can't help looking back and thinking what an idiot I was to invest all my youth emancipating myself emotionally, while the other kids were building an ab-fab resume and dressing sharp.

This makes me feel like the ultimate loser to admit, but it's probably a reason I should touch the giant soap bubble and pop it: For ten years now, I've been working with text. Portuguese and English languages. That's what I've trained myself to do, to excellence. It's the only thing I do that has earned compliments, the only job I had that actually gave me anything of money, the closest I've ever been to supporting myself. And here I am, in a reality where none of this that I can, should and want to do are valued.

Portuguese in the business world is a split language. You've got the super-pure thing that's spoken in Portugal, Spain's underdeveloped neighbour who imports everything from it, and then you've got the modified gob that I was raised with in Brazil. Heaps of Brazilians in the market, albeit no actual professional interest in the language of Brazil, and in Portugal everybody detests our flavour to the language. Jobs that require Portuguese language always specify "Brasileños, no" (and not just translating, copy-desking, writing or communication gigs, but pretty much everything else).

Spain is fraught with US American kids trying to get a degree in Europe and travel cheaper in the Summer, and they all teach English and do everything I've filled a resume with for a living here (with much less pleasure). They're the English-speaking "natives". I'm nobody to compete in this race.

It's like you've been a lawyer your whole life, and suddenly you move to a place where there is no Law. Or like you've been nothing but a pianist, and you go to a place where they don't have pianos, music or whatever for you. You're suddenly null, you've got no lines, no part to play on the stage. And the play goes on.

I want guidance, and I've been learning that guidance is my feelings, my Emotional Guidance System. It says I should do what feels good. But I have no credentials, preparation or reputation to do what feels good in this country of super-serious, seriously concerned people, concerning anything I love to do. Which is basically language and Music.

I'll probably manage this all by myself, as I've always have, but I can't help being amazed at how cursed my professional life seems to be, wherever I am. In Rio, no jobs whatsoever. In Madrid, no qualifications in me.

How do I fix this, for once and for good? I've realised with Saturn's Return that my main deficiency in life is my professional situation, and I want to balance that pie chart.

Image: “Seed Spirit”, by Neil Turner.

One Word, again.

2009-02-02T23:21:00.002+01:00

I know I'd done this once already, but Kady tagged me again, and I thought it might be really interesting to check how much I've changed in 8 months--after a transatlantic trip, free hugs, marriage, the loss of a grandparent without being able to even tell him goodbye for the last time. and everything else I've written about on my blog.

You can only type ONE Word!
Not as easy as you might think. Now change the answers to suit you and pass it on. It's really hard to only use one word answers. You can only type one word!

1. Where is your cell phone?
Bag.

2. Where is your significant other?
Couch.

3. Your hair?
Wet.

4. Your mother?
Home.

5. Your father?
Dunno.

6. Your favorite thing?
Left.

7. Your dream last night?
Trippy.

8. Your dream/goal?
Reformulating.

9. The room you're in?
Dark.

10. Your hobby?
Transition.

11. Your fear?
Dogs.

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years?
Uranus.

13. Where were you last night?
Home.

14. What you're not?
Easy.

16. One of your wish list items?
Viking.

17. Where you grew up?
Boo.

18. The last thing you did?
Dishes.

19. What are you wearing?
Pyjamas.

21. Your TV?
None.

21. Your pet?
Couch.

22. Your computer?
Here.

24. Your mood?
Content.

25. Missing someone?
Yeah.

26. Your car?
None.

27. Something you're not wearing?
Crocs.

28. Favorite store?
Bookshop.

29. Your summer?
SWITZERLAND!!!

30. Love someone?
Plenty.

31. Your favorite color?
Yellow.

32. When is the last time you laughed?
Now.

33. Last time you cried?
Long.

34. One place that I go to over and over?
Callao.

35. One person who emails me regularly?
Gavin.

36. Favorite place to eat?
Vegetarian.

37. Why you participated in this survey?
Comparing.

38. What are you doing tonight?
Bed.

39. Something you're proud of?
Storytelling.

40. Who will reply to this?
Bored.

Free Hugs

2009-01-27T00:42:00.004+01:00

Yesterday (Sunday) I had my first Free Hugs experience with my friends from Couchsurfing/Madrid. Nothing big to be told, but I want to say that if you're too busy, too celebrity or too afraid to offer a hug to a stranger downtown on a Sunday morning, you're doing something terrible with your own life.

See for yourself, and feel the magic even from a magic-deterring device such as a digital video, and if it makes you feel good, give yourself a chance and vow to hold the sign some day soon:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VPRFA1Efyts
http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/video/video.php?v=47327722863

Adulthood, part one

2009-01-24T13:44:00.001+01:00

I've been questioning my religious identity as a Pagan for quite a while now. Eight years ago, very few things made me as proud as waving the pentacle or the "God Herself" flag, especially because of the zest for life, reverence for death as a natural force, and the freedom from the oppression of gender it represented to me. But then, as I grew older, I began noticing nuances (that word...) in general, collective pagan behaviour that made me progressively more uncomfortable, until a few very particular, widely publicized pagan notions began, frankly, scarying the shit out of me. Today, and for the past two years or so, it's namely the certainty that owning a cunt gives you power of "choice" over life and death. Life and death of other people. And then masking it with a ritual to the Goddess of the Woodland presumably makes murder look natural.

When I was young, stupid and blocked, I believed that one chose a religious path because of the value of the theories professed along it. These days, being definetely much of an adult the kid I was wanted to be when he grew up, I know one decides on and chooses his Religion, his social circle, his general experience on Planet Earth, which is still my Deity, and certainly his community by the way they feel; and I also know that identity is an individual merit. I'm NOT going to associate with money-hungry, power-hungry ego-maniacs who make me feel threatened and disturbed. Starhawk's books in the 80s used to be mostly about Preservation and Restoration, and look at all this shit now.

I've been huge on Abraham(-Hicks)'s teachings lately, and I'm working on becoming an allower. The Law of Allowing, of all three Universal Laws Abe teaches, is the most difficult to grasp, but I'm slowly coming to dig it. And even though I know it states that I need to allow others to be who they want to be and do whatever they want to do, I don't have to take in anybody else's personal laws made up on vanity, ignorance and very conditional love. Or love of conditions, actually. Murderers are people desperately unable to allow, so they try the last resort on the table. (And please don't mask abortion with maturity and "Adulthood". First, Adulthood is a very personal and intimate notion created by each adult, since each of us achieve our personal Break Even Point in a different moment, and look at ourselves differently by then. Second, in Spain, where abortions are fully legal, 90% of them are performed by women younger than 19 years old, and in my physical and non-physical experience, all abortions were/are performed by women not really older than that. Abortion is immaturity and total inability to deal with one's own system, sexual life and, for one thing, creative powers of lifegivingness.)

I still love my friends in São Paulo, and I'm still attending all public rituals whenever I'm in town, since I love the memories of my youth. But all public references to Paganism on all my profiles in the Internet and the rest of my social life, are going to go. I'm responsible for my identity, image and religious (political) stand.

I'm so sorry my ex-religion is so twisted by perversions, like practically all religions before it.

Things to Leave Behind

2009-01-15T16:56:00.002+01:00

Today's packing up day. For the first time in my life, over half of my luggage consists of gifts for other people, and I can't believe I feel so good about this. Yet, I'm feeling a little guilty because of last night's talk with my sister and mom in her bedroom.

She's turned 25 this week, and in a mysogynistic country like Brazil that's when the pre-Saturn's Return hysteria for heterossexual marriage and children begins, so she suddenly brought her hypothetical marriage into our talk about my future life when I land in Madrid tomorrow, this time so differently from the Spring of '07. Next thing I knew, her index finger was rocking in front of my face and her tone of voice was completely transformed back into the usual bitch mode. Then I received instructions about my outfit for her wedding, who I was entering the ceremony with (my husband--my family--not allowed because here in Brazil, people's mentality, bla, bla, bla), and what role I had to play in her big day. I said I was going to bring a pianist from Spain and sing, instead. She said, no. And grew angrier. Then she and my mother said I was her family and she didn't want to feel alone in her day. I. e., like I felt on my wedding day, when neither she, nor my mother, called, sent an SMS or even an email. I married like I had no family at all in this world. And then I made that very clear to them with very few words and the perfect voice tone (oh boy, how I love adulthood!), and then made it even clearer, in an even more perfect speech, that nobody in that family had the right to demand any wedding day behaviour from me. End of talk, soothing silence and lightness in my soul. And less shit to bring back in my bags with me, opening more space for sincere gifts for people who have accepted me as I am.

I most likely won't have space in my checking bag for as many books as I'd like to bring. And books are too heavy to bring more than a few in your carry-on. I've been working intensely with Abraham-Hicks's seminars and "Starter Set" CDs throughout this month I've spent here in Rio, and I think among the many blessings I've attracted to myself because of that, I now have a sharper pre-manifestation sensitivity, so I know that I'll need some Craft and magic books with exercises, because I'm currently attracting for myself a study group for (gay) male Mysteries in Madrid. I also intend to begin Storytelling again, and even though that feels a tad bit counter-Flow by now, I'm determined to be surrounded with my tried-and-true repertoire if the opportunity to play The Storm Fool live again appears. And frankly, it might. I had already decided that I'd bring home this time around Nacy McDermott's "Real Vegetarian Thai", which is my all-time favourite recipe book and I had forgotten when I moved to Madrid two years ago. I'm also taking the Gay Kama Sutra, two Brazilian books I think my husband will adore (the world's first gay-themed modern novel "Bom-Crioulo", and a book of essays on the formation of Brazilian identity and mentality "Raízes do Brasil"), Alex Grey's "The Mission of Art", and the three books I had brought from Spain to read on the flight to Brazil: "The Boy with Striped Pyjamas", Oshos's "Creativity" and my German workbook with CD.On top of that, there's Deepak Chopra's "Way of the Wizard", that I would love to have there; the CDs, which won't be many anyway; and, Gods help me, the sheet music I had vowed to take back. These are the ones that should probably stay. I had promised my ex-choir director, the one the Faeries drew me apart from last (NH) Summer, that I'd give him Brazilian music with SATB arrangements, which I had from my old, lovely choir in Sampa. But then, Music lately hasn't seemed to be such a grateful thing to sacrifice other things for, and I'm not sure it's wise, fair or even fun to go back to study solfege anyway...

It's an awful thing I don't have any of my Divination systems here to aid me in deciding, and honestly, blogging/writing used to be more helpful. But in any case, I've been feeling good for taking gifts to Spain, so I'm going to focus on that feeling of generosity, and everything else that needs to go will find their way into the bag.

Downstream and across the ocean. Here I go.

New Year Resolution '09

2008-12-30T11:29:00.002+01:00

Light a candle, let it warm
know the way and trust the road
Bright Northern Star and rainbow
Never water, never cold

Flame and light
I lead my show
Heart's desire
Show where to go
Know and will
Next cornerstones
Northern lights
I'm never alone

Hold a candle, let it shine
A smoke sign out, I'll then send
Never may an empty sky
Fill with messing birds of prey

Flame and light
I lead my show
Heart's desire
Show where to go
Know and will
Next cornerstones
Northern lights
I'm never alone

Equity '08

2008-12-29T14:41:00.001+01:00

On the average, I think I had a very relaxing year. Actually, I think it was the first time I have actually, absolutely relaxed ever since I can remember. Saturn's Return caught me quite by surprise by the time I was already married, legalized and secured in a more secure land. I'm currently having a really hard time legalizing my Brazilian schooling in Spain, but I'm still trying to be confident everything will turn out alright in the end. And hoping "the end" comes way before I'm 65 years old, because in a shameful country like Brazil 35 years isn't too long to wait.

I'm still not sure what I am going to do professionally with my life, but I do know what is important to me, and while I take the following few years or so to decide, I know what flora and fauna I need to nurture around me, and I know what feels good. And it's all in my hands to take or leave.

My New Year Resolution for 2008 was merely sticking to meditation and trusting the Flow. I think I did a quite good job in learning how to observe and evaluate my mind and the way it is mirrored by my environment, responding intelligently to various stimuli from many sides, and now I think I'm ready for the next natural step: taking responsibility for my vibes, my thoughts and what I am attracting and manifesting. From Water to Fire. Having placed the first Cornerstone, To Keep Silent, I work now on To Will.

My resolution for 2009 comprehends continuing with my German language studies, going back to school in Spain, starting a gay men's Tango group and travelling abroad a lot. This vacation in Rio, far away from anything musical, artistic or creative, has shown me again how important Singing is to my Fetch and my spiritual welfare, so I will probably give Classical Singing another try, but this time with a different strategy: I'll first take solfege lessons, learn to sing impeccably in tune and a tempo, and only then invest in the expression, creativity and artistic autonomy part. In Rome, do like the Romans. In other words, go with the Flow AND with your Intention.

My traditional NYR poem is still in the making. Happy New Year to all.

Back home, and back again

2008-12-23T14:01:00.001+01:00

I'm back in Rio from a whole week in São Paulo, with no pictures, less weight and a whole lotta love.

I had decided to take this opportunity to have my first couch-surfing Couchsurfing experience, since my dear friend Simone who had offered to host me many months ago had a new huge dog at home (and I have dog-phobia). What happened then felt like a total miracle. Not only did I get warm blankets, shelter and warm showers, but I also made a great new friend in my host. I really don't believe anything can go wrong in Sampa, at all.

After I had fixed all the bank, studies and souvenirs issues, I started calling all the gangs I used to hang out with back in the days. They were all there, all happier than ever, full of light, hope and plans for the new year, and full of joy for seeing me too, after so long. Nothing to do with what I have back home in Spain.

I tried to squeeze most of them on Thursday, because on Friday many were travelling to spend Xmas with their families out of town. I had planned to spend about an hour and a half with each, so I could meet everybody, but turns out almost everybody I had arranged something with had planned a whole party: Caio&Roberta bought wine, pizza and beer, and put a mattress on their office floor, expecting to spend the whole night with me. Later on, I had booked an hour with Simone, who as a surprise had called everybody from our old day job. One of the many pieces of great news is that Thiago is moving to Madrid next year, and we'll live really close to each other. How cool is it that now I'm gonna be neighbours with my ex-co-worker?? In the Litha ritual, which many of us attended for the first time in many months, everybody told me to come back "to us".

Within a week, I obviously didn't have enough time to see everything I wanted to see in the hugest city in the Southern Hemisphere, but the basics were all covered: I had the best hot-dog on Earth (at least three times), I went to the good ol' poetry slam in Casa das Rosas, joined Claudiney Prieto's public Solstice ritual downtown, checked my favourite bookshops and had a mini-shopping spree in our Japanese district and the Chinese Market. Many people, especially the ones from the storytelling scene, I couldn't meet this time around, but this certainly means I'm indebted to visit again sometime soon. And I always pay my debts!

It is a damn shame that I didn't have my camera working to take many, many pictures, but the most essential won't fade with time, ever: friends are forever, even though they do need to be cultivated and taken care of; and we're always more loved than we're able to understand.

I love São Paulo.

Packing Up

2008-12-08T17:43:00.001+01:00

Tomorrow I'm flying to Brazil first thing in the morning. My feelings right now are all intense and giddy, but in general pretty good. Actually, going "home" for Xmas never felt so good.

Image: FIESP's building last year. Every Xmas, Avenida Paulista is covered in Xmas lights. I love it, and I missed it. I'm really glad I'll be there to see it this year.

First Snow Experience

2008-12-01T01:40:00.002+01:00

Today my good friend and tandem Tatjana gave me a ride to the Madrilean mountains to see actual snow for the first time, touch it, smell it, experience what it is like with all my physical senses. Snow is beautiful, snow is magical and snow is a blast, but the surreality of a whole landscape covered with a white that could be shampoo foam, salt or sand is an experience which, much like the all-sweeping tropical rainstorm followed by an aethereal rainbow, should be in everybody's memory, all over the world.

I grew up visiting the Sea very often, and I am quite disturbed by the fact that many people die everyday without having ever seen the Sea live. Resting your eyes on an infinitely faraway, blue horizon that blurs and blends with the Sky is a function of life, and I honestly feel injustice and hurt feelings when older people tell me they've never seen the Sea. Likewise, it is an injustice that my grandparents died without having ever seen the Snow.

Common to all sassy-dressed snowboarders, euphoric kids in their sleds, cool Europeans (and immigrants) having a mug of hot chocolate with picatostes in a warm, wooden room and by a window showing a white, white vista is definetely a reverence for this yearly miracle of Nature. Snow is Her way of saying "it's all under my protection now. My white Mantle will keep the land nourished, silent and ready, while the mead brews. Beneath my white Mantle lives a promise". And She ain't telling anything until Spring breaks, which is of course just as well.

Missing this important, reassuring time of the year is a shame.

Image: my first snowball. I didn't have the gloves to make a real snowman, but one day.

What Brings Us Together

2008-11-28T12:24:00.001+01:00

Time to renew connections:

1. Who are you?
2. Are we friends?
3. When and how did we meet?
4. Do you or have you ever had a crush on me?
5. Give me a nickname and explain why you picked it.
6. Describe me in one word.
7. What was your first impression?
8. Do you still think that way about me now?
9. What reminds you of me?
10. If you could give me anything what would it be?
11. How well do you know me?
12. When's the last time you saw me?
13. Ever wanted to tell me something but couldn't?
14. Are you going to post this on your blog and see what I say about you?
15. Add a memory.

Reply to these as a comment.

The latest hot topic in Blog-o-sphere

2008-11-21T13:02:00.003+01:00

Disclaimer: I by no means intend to convert anybody to my lifestyle or point of view. I've never wanted to, and pray that I never will. I hope you read this in a spirit of Respect, too.

I've not always been a vegetarian. I grew up in a society where the basic meal is refined rice and a huge beef steak. Most of the lowest half of South America lives on meat, especially cows and oxen, and when you grow up in a place like Southeastern Brazil you hardly ever question your eating habits. That's what your mom, dad, grandparents, friends, teachers and priests eat everyday, twice a day, and they're fine, so that's what you're going to do.

My metabolism is very accelerated compared to the majority of people, I guess. So I ate lots of meat, because in the mindset I have inherited (and the only one I had to work with back then), if you're still hungry, you're eating too little. It wasn't until my senior year at school that a phonoaudiologyst noticed I had too little flexibility for somebody my age, and that my back and the back of my legs were "compromised". Then, at university I started on Yoga. I still think Yoga is probably the best and definetely the only physical activity I can engage with enthusiasm, and my next New Year's Resolution is to start doing it three times a week again. In a brand new social environment, full of ideas, experiences and adventures, I discovered for the first time ever that many, many people in this planet (even in Rio!) lived pretty well without eating corpses.

I don't remember being shocked, but it was definetely too much for my head back then, so I just started reading a lot on the subject of Nutrition--especially Alternative Nutrition. I think from what I garnered back then, I don't think anything over two percent of the world's population actually needs to eat warm-blood meat (birds and mammals). It'd probably take somebody from blood group O, with high intolerance to lactosis and chlorophyll, and several other digestive disfunctions and health issues, then probably some very specific emotional setting. Some of the people who came to the sessions, like my second Yoga instructor, had been vegetarians (if not vegans) for over ten years. Maybe twenty, I can't really remember. And they all looked so fucking better than all the adults of my previous life. So I asked them loads of questions, and got them to teach me many recipes and techniques. I came home, taught them to my mother, who also didn't really like meat anyway, and we began eating so much better in the family. On New Year's Eve 2000 I made the resolution to not eat beef again for the new year. McDonald's burgers were okay, because they didn't taste like that strong South American beef we had, and because rumour in Brazil were that they were made with worms, not mammals. But very fews months later, I think on March '01, I decided to ditch even McDonald's meat, and since then I have really eaten meat of my own volition.

I still drink milk (half a litre everyday, I think), plus eat LOADS of dairy. I could never cut milk from my diet, and never really wanted to. I had given up eggs too when I moved to my own flat, but still ate eggs when I visitted my parents or other relatives.

But then marriage came. I know you're supposed to make sacrifices, and the Gods and my blog readers know I have made many. Even my husband knows, but he just won't admit it. I haven't adopted carnivorism/omnivorism as a way of life, but I did try Jamón Serrano, Spain's national pride, had strong pork broth soup (Cocido Madrileño) twice, beef consommé for the most miserable New Year's Eve of my life so far, and ate iberian Xmas delicacies made with pork fat (polvorones). Yeah, people still eat pork fat in a world like this. That's right, and then Dunkin' Donuts and Americans are the devil who feeds the rest of the world with animal mortal remainings. Go figure. I also eat eggs three times a week now. But I'm fine with that.

Most of my live friends and peers these days are carnivores, and it's been teaching me some interesting things. We vegetarians are famous for considering ourselves above the general scope of humanity, but then I have never ever even read a blog entry of a vegetarian trying to convert people to Vegetarianism. At least, not the way carnivores have tried to "seduce" me waving a piece of burnt flesh or a bird's limb in front of my face. Or to convince me I'm gonna be sick, weak, mentally retarded, emotionally handicapped and spiritually destitute if I don't eat like them. Carnivores are ALL over-rational and extremely discussion-"friendly". And that probably means more than I am able to grasp.

I do believe there is a reason why we became carnivores at some point in Pre-History, and it was really important, and really useful back then. Honestly, I even wonder if my carnivore ancestors have made me a better vegetarian; and chances are, they did. But in a world today, with all the fresh water issues, all the need to protect the Rainforest and the indigenous flora of several places, and all the crazy ways we have been breeding "Life" to suit our economic interests, I don't really see myself contributing too much to a clever [r]evolution of my species or the Gods I worship by feeding atrocious collective behaviours. I said, "behaviours". Please note that I used it in the plural.

Maybe, actually probably, it's merely my part to be played in this. I definetely trust that meat-eaters have a reason to eat meat, and if they shouldn't be eating meat their bodies would react in some way, like mine did before I reached legal adulthood, but food is currently, probably the only aspect of life I'm 100% peaceful about. It certainly has got to do with living in a food-affirmative culture like central Spain, but it also happens as a consequence of aligning all my parts and Selves and bringing them in agreement around a single issue, and relaxing on the certainty of my place in the Universe and how I join it in complete Harmony as I eat. I'm a Pagan. That's too important for me.

Image: steamed vegetables. The first lesson I learnt in veggie cuisine. Then I'd cook a sauce and mix into them.

Synchronised

2008-11-16T12:55:00.001+01:00

Yesterday was a beautiful day. It was actually pretty much like any good day of my Golden Days back in Sampa. I'm feeling happy, worthy and very energised.

I had arranged to meet my new friend from Couchsurfing Emma, who's beginning her world trip here in Madrid. I took her to my favourite place in town, Templo de Debod, and showed her the most beautiful Autumn sunset a person can possibly see in Madrid. When we sat by the fountain and started talking about buried treasures in Madrid and her native Ireland, a joyful "Awen!" cut the stream of conversation. I replied "Dani!", and there was him, my other new friend from Couchsurfing, who I had arranged with later on to bring him to my gay men's yoga and meditation group. The way we met was so sweet. We had never seen each other, but we knew who we were. He had an Australian friend surfing his couch for the weekend with him, another Emma. So, after crossed introductions, the four of us headed to the yoga lesson, and had a great time. The Emmas left after the yoga. The Irish one had another Couchsurfing appointment, and the Australian Emma had a hard time with meditation. Dani stayed to the end of the meditation, loved it, and then participated in our Active Listening circle we have afterwards. I love the Active Listening circle, but last night was special for me. I joined the circle in a spirit of protest against the homophobic propositions in the USA, most especially the H8 in California. I shared in the circle my hurt feelings, my frustration, the unfairness I saw in putting a fundamental right at risk, against an oppressive homophobic, ignorant and fanatic majority, how they have taken from us a right we ALL had in CA. Not just gays, but everybody who wanted the right to define their own family. I told them how I felt insecure. How my family, my husband and me, feel insecured in a world governed by fear and hate. Afterwards, in the dressing room, everybody came to tell me they felt like that, too, and that it was important that I said that. Spain, such a fervorous catholic country and one of the five countries in the world that has gay marriage, is not really free from the threat of fundies like Rouco Varella, who never misses an opportunity to go on TV and say how endangered "traditional family" is, and how many enemies this "important institution" has. They gather thousands of people for a protest downtown Madrid against gay marriage. We gays can't gather enough ppl to agree that everybody who wants to marry should marry. I really hope my right to marry is never put to vote here in Spain.

Then, Dani and Emma, who was sitting at the lobby, left for another Couchsurfing event they had planned, and I went with the guys for our usual dinner. At the restaurant we always go to after the meeting, there was for the first time ever no place for everybody, so the group was split. Some left for another vegan-friendly diner, but I was in the group who stayed. When I was serving my dish in the buffet, a Sevillan "Awen!" coloured the air.

"What are you doing in Madrid?", I asked.
"We are all in Madrid tonight! Check the back of the restaurant."

The Spanish Pagan community had arranged to gather all in that diner, that exact night. I had my meal with the yoga boys and later I went to share a nice conversation about ESP experiences, language barriers and Reiki with Javi (Sevilla) and Diego (Salamanca). When the diner was about to close and we were being kicked out, the Madrilean pagans all hugged me, told me they missed me, thought they had scared me, and made me feel really dear. I have a community.

Then, the yoga boys came to give my jacket and my bag back to me and to say goodbye. We pagans were already leaving, so we had our merry-part, and I came home on the last metro that night.

I arrived, turned the lights on, called my husband (who's away having quite an adventure in Morocco now), and went to bed feeling happy.

On our way to the yoga lesson, Dani and I talked a lot in Portuguese. He had lived in Brazil, and now lives in China. A globe-trotter. I told him how I was a storyteller, and he was really interested. This morning, my Morning Pages were not focused on my frustrations with music for once in a long time, but rather, filled with quite an excitement for wiping the dust of my repertoire and trying some old tale upon willing ears.

Would I be out of the fridge yet?

Image: Rainbow Warrior, by Nadia Sultan.

The Tripod

2008-11-12T12:12:00.002+01:00

I've been surfing masterfully my current wave. Since ditching my vocal coach (or was it she who ditched me?), I've been doing my vocalizzi everyday and studying new repertoire. And improving still. I've already come to a point in my training where I don't really need somebody to tell me when I am harming my instrument, so I just turn time to my favour and keep evolving in my currently favourite art form.

With the German language, I'm still on a brill headway. Really, I can't believe I've managed to absorb so much from such a difficult language (richly conjugated verbs, compound nouns, declensions in four cases, THREE genders!!) without ever having taken an actual lesson or studied with a teacher. I'll keep up the pace, so when I'm back from Brazil next year and on the job-hunt again, I'll have "German (basic)" on my resume to boot.

Working with my new Book of Stars, I have realised the tripod that gave me all my resilience and very appraised healthy drive, throughout my life so far. I've named each of the secrets: Daily Practice, Creative Work and Divination. To me, involvement with these three virtues has helped me move forward, find ways out (or ways in) and consolidate achievements that often are taken away from you with time.

My current Daily Practice includes Morning Pages and other emotional cleansing tools, Triple Soul work, Music/Singing, German language and, of course, grounding-centering. The dearest divination tool I have is still the Osho Zen Tarot (especially with the Flying Bird spread), but I also use the Faeries' Oracle, Jamie Sams' "Sacred Path Cards" and Scrying every now and then, because sometimes I don't care about being more Zen. Creativewise, well, it feels oh-so-good not to rely on external scrutiny for once in my life!

Even though the Daily Practice has given me more strength than anything, Creative Work, I suspect, has been so much more rewarding, existentially. When I was still working as a storyteller, I reformed and reshaped my Self several times by empowering my "narrator", experiencing a blissful expansion and sharpening of my senses. As a singer, I'm deepening my trance skills, and Self-reliance is a byproduct of all the wonders that mastering Song can bring to one's life. I do understand that Divination's greatest reward is probably this sense of self-reliance, but the reliance I'm talking about when I refer to my experience with Song is actually reliance on the capital-"S" Self. You know, less ego and struggle that creates the illusion of tone-deafness, more surrender and discovery. Many people go through life without ever coming close to this. I'm privileged.

These are my three tools I use to manipulate Time. Realising where you are, knowing where you want to go and surfing every wave to get you there with wits and flexibility, life is what it's meant to be: a beautiful and meaningful something that fills a stretch of Time. Which is another definition for music, you know.

Listening

2008-11-04T23:57:00.001+01:00

I'm currently praying for Resiliency. I've moved the world to find my path and shape, and I've let go of too much to heed the calling of my highest soul, and now I'm dreading losing everything (plus Time, but that's a common theme during this crazy phase I'm going through) and being stuck somewhere between naïve rebellion against moral standards and failure in finding the Holy Grail.

Today, I was finally going to work with my vocal coach again after one month away. Early in October, it was one of her advanced students who needed the lesson more than me, then the next week she was sick, then her mother was sick, on the following opportunity her mother died, then I had to respect my coach's right to grieve. Bye-bye, October. But tonight I had finally managed to book her to fix my musical instrument again. Then, I arrived in her studio and one of her advanced students was there, having a session with her during the time I had booked.

Shock prevented me from switching on to Bitch mode. Apologies, excuses and all the usual lines were pronounced, but I came home feeling devastated. I realise and admit that I overrate my training too much sometimes, yes, but I did give myself the right to feel (perhaps a bit over-)glad, and definetely expectant, that today I was finally going to work on my tessitura above middle G. Error.

My vocal coach is a mess. She's used to having no more than three or four classes a week, and currently she probably has twice that figure, and she apparently relies on students calling her the day before (or two or half an hour before) the lesson to confirm, book, unbook, rebook. Or just to shoot the breeze, because she answers her ever-ringing mobile during the classes.

I had decided I'd be a bit resistant with that policy on purpose. Dog people like her develop weird habits with different people. I knew if I called her two hours before every fucking lesson to confirm, I'd be a slave to that for my whole training. So I managed to go through a year and a half with her without playing that role quite well (despite constant disappointments). But this week, after a month without coaching, she relied on a call. I didn't call her, and when I arrived there I saw another tenor in my place.

Another mea-culpa in order here is that since yesterday my phone has had its battery uncharged. It was off for over 24 hours. I know I'm a mess with the mobile, too, but the same thing has happened before while I had my mobile on and available. She didn't call, I didn't call, and when I arrived there at the exact time I had booked her, I was suddenly invading somebody else's hour.

I don't know what to do with this situation. All I know this can't go on like this much longer, and I'm considering giving a couple of days to mull over this. Perhaps it's just drama I am creating where there isn't none. Perhaps she's abusive and disconsiderate. Especially in the light of the talk we had in September, when for the second time she clearly stated that she doesn't trust my talents and my skills. What's the use of investing in training with a teacher who doesn't have faith in her student?

I had a plan, and frankly it looked brilliant: next month I'm off to Brazil to visit family and friends, and in January I'm back in Madrid. Then, I'd call another teacher, a sufi musician whose lecture I watched last month and came home haunted by groundbreaking and very resonating ideas about voice, music and artistic expression. He teaches solfege, piano, voice, composition, many things, and apparently vibrates in the same frequency as Dr. Overtone. Upon returning to Spain, I'd take a couple of lessons with him, and then decide which way I'd be going. But I'd take lessons with my current coach until it was time to fly to Brazil and take a much needed break from Music and all the anxiety I very disgracefully have been associating with it.

Another alternative is a German vocal coach living in Madrid who is a retired concert soloist. I got her number in my first month in Madrid, never called but never threw the tiny piece of paper out, either.

I still don't know, but contrary to the current old-age paranoia, I have time to cool down, trust my intuition beyond mind-games and hurt-feelings, and listen to where the way leads to by the sound of the flowing waters beneath my feet.

Wait a minute.

This reminds me that no matter how hard the Ice Age castigates the land, deep in the Earth's core there will always be warmth. And Grace.

I'll dream it tonight, and MP it in the morning. Again, all shall be well.

Brand New Book

2008-11-01T11:08:00.003+01:00

Too long have I stood in the Crossroads. Too many paths trodden in my mind, and not enough mileage behind my feet. At least, not enough for me on the vista of my 29th birthday. Direct experience is the only redemption, and that can only take place by embracing joy and choosing free from guilt.

It's time for a new beginning. Time to take responsibilities, to ask clearly for what I want, to voice my concerns without expecting the fixed answers of the litany so far.

On Thursday I was in Biocultura, an organic farming fair here in Madrid. I bought there a new cotton-paper notebook to use as my new magical journal. I've been meaning to do that for a long time now.

This is the first page of UnLitany, my new blog and part of my magical journal. Don't expect much, just groove along and discover the music the moment it is being sung.

Beautiful image is one among many from Rippendesign.com

Ice, continued

2008-10-31T00:10:00.002+01:00

Yeah, it's been long. Since Oct 07th, I've written many half-entries to this blog that never made it to the Web. Regular readers of The Book of the Crossroads know all too well that such an extended period of silence usually means that nothing's progressing. I'm still stuck on Ice.

Truth is, the Grim Old Man of the Solar System back in the house he was when I was born is hard. I had heard many stories and songs about rethinking our role in the world, questioning our own merits and facing our direst needs with honesty before, yeah, but it's hard when you're actually the leading lady, and the opening night came without a rehearsal.

But I don't want to shut my eyes and wake up when I'm 35, either. Missing such a powerful opportunity as Saturn's Return is so not my style. I wanna ride this wave like I've been doing so far, with incredible nimbleness. I've got it all clear and, thanks to a bunch of research, mapped and outlined.

Water birds and frogs are creatures of two worlds, and that's what I've been for too long now. Awen and Ronaldo, recovering-creative and bread-winner, pagan storyteller and nobody special, leisure time queen and depressed slave-to-the-wage. Time's passed, and I neither got a respectable job like a handful of likely lads, neither died in misterious circumstances before my 28th birthday like Jim, Jimmy, Kurt and Janis. Now that I'm moving my focus from my wants to my necessities, I feel the need to integrate all my parts and function as a whole in a clever if not productive manner.

But I still don't have a clue how.

Image: following Jesse's suggestion, I put the drama on the page. Here one can easily see the current schizoid soap opera of my life.

Another Wall Down

2008-10-20T17:12:00.001+02:00

I've just concluded the complete German course on Livemocha.com. Prima! But the studies will go on.

Ice

2008-10-07T23:37:00.001+02:00

My professional life has always been a mess, and the older I get, the hardest I have to look to catch the most elusive glimpse of a way out. Or in.

I had the typical education of a firstborn-with-a-little-sister in macho freak South America. I was raised to have a militar career. When puberty came and my voice took a bit longer to crack, my parents very fortunately gave up on the obsession, because back in the daze the military was associated with heterosexuality. Well, come to think of it, it still is. But anyway, they started investing like there was no other possibility in making me a small businessman, because that's what my father was and we all know how the story goes.

My old people were kinda low key and VERY limited. Well, they still are, but 28 years knowing me have forced them to accept other possibilities in a universe like this. I sincerely trust that they had good intentions (in part because I fear going way too bitter this late in my emotional development), but how on Earth couldn't they see I needed drawing, guitar or dance lessons (something my sister had from the moment she could walk without leaning on walls) more than prescribed psychodrugs, or keeping my hair short or totally off-the-wall shoehorning, or multi-abuse? Back then, it just seemed right to think the fault of being misunderstood was mine.

Anyway, time passed, and because my mother had a college degree, she felt indebted with affording me one, too. I wanted Psychology. I wanted to investigate this fascinating world of honest emotions and shared feelings, something that was denied to me because I was born in the wrong place, with the wrong people. And wrong time, too, because I don't think I'll never fit this world before it's about 2050 common era. By then, maybe. So, mom wanted something glamourous, a career that implied a grey suit and a cold-ass stare, so she could look like a celebrity's mom to that miserable neighbourhood I grew up in. To the very best of my judgement back then, the only career that sounded like professional training, creativity honing and glitter was Journalism. Well, at least I'd be able to earn a living writing, right?

Wrong. Like every decision I took guided by my mom's urgings. Frankly, if I had her money and her sense of sovereignity when I was 13, I'd probably have grown up to be a winner today.

Writing is about 5% of what Journalism is these days, and most of Journalism students of my generation never got to work with it because of the scarcity of jobs in the field, the poor academic credentials and the huge mob of competitors in the market. Even those who did, are depressed slaves today. I had to let go of all connections I had with them in order to not be dragged down to alcoholism and suicide. So, I wound up with a useless degree in something that's useless for getting a stable job, a less-than-human identity, charges and demands from family and neighbourhood, and a violent depression. But I managed to fail in the suicide suicide part, fortunately.

I took a summer course in my first Summer after graduation on Art Therapy, and the facilitator, a college Psychology professor said: "the psychologist's nature is to move on to Art". That moment, at least two thousand bells rang in my head, and I realised I'd been on the wrong path from the moment I decided to let my mother influence on my academic career.

But because I avoided alcoholism, I became a self-help junkie. I managed to do fine in this new era, really. The finest I've ever done. Naïvety and irrationality are the best fuel I have used to move my machine to date: I broke free from parental oppression, moved to another state, landed a decent career as a translator and bilingual writer, admited I wanted to be a musician and started pursuing a training against all odds (and all evens, too, for that matter), then moved abroad and even got married. Accomplishments gays of my generation never ever dream of.

But the fairytale has led me to a new hard beginning. I live now in a xenophobic land that thinks my country is Disneyland with semi-naked women and pseudo-African rythmns. Unless I agree to be the next football sensation or this week's mulata, I probably ain't good for much. And I'd been living happily on language before the prince became a frog.

A few problems arose. First, I can rely on two languages to work with as a professional: English and Portuguese. Turns out the locals prefer what they all seem to call "native speaker" by consensus when it comes to choosing a translator, a teacher or a writer, even though that notion is scandalous nonsense, and most of the times it leads them to pick the worst candidate possible. No wonder hardly anybody can speak a foreign language here. And technically, I'm not a "native speaker" (whatever that means, since no-fucking-body is born speaking a language, except maybe Taliesin reborn, in that old Celtic legend I loved telling when I was a storyteller), neither of English, nor of Portuguese, because the news in town is that in Brazil we don't speak Portuguese, but "Brasileño", whatever the fuck these sicktards mean with that. So, now that I had landed a career and had started building a nice resume, I'm back to ground zero with five years more counting against me in a youth-worshipping culture obsessed with perfection and no idea whatsoever of what a foreign language actually is. And no degree to stand above questionings (Spain's national sport), either.

I decided then I'd just temporarily move to "informal economy", as we call it in Brazil. I hanged signs advertising private English and Portuguese lessons in public libraries. In all libraries I posted them, lack-mentality, EFL-teaching jerks ripped off my ads and posted their own. I used to rip theirs off, too. But tonight it made me just too depressed that, after all I have been through, I'm now reduced to this.

Frogs are said to unfreeze when the Winter's over and to come back to life, brand new. I just want to hope there's still an irrational all-winning idiot somewhere deep inside me, just waiting to unfreeze and start leaping and frolicking again when Winter's over.

Faster, please

2008-10-05T15:39:00.002+02:00

I'm legally married and I cannot be kicked from Spain by policemen ambushing South-american ppl in the Metro exit anymore. I'm safe. And I've got a date for my Spanish ID# to come, so I can work, travel, study and own stuff. In January, 2009. But truth is that it makes me sick I can't visit my people in Brazil sooner than sometime next year, maybe in Spring.

It's hard. The whole thing's been pretty hard to achieve this, but it's even harder to realise it's not over yet.

Don't get me wrong. I'm loving being here, I'm loving getting my basic needs met without weariness for once in my life, but as of right now I need a PnT in Trianon, a public ritual with a beautiful spiral dance and a power cone in the end, a pressed hot-dog with Cheddar and mashed potatoes and a poetry slam in Casa das Rosas.

Please.

By the way, the photos of the wedding are already online: http://picasaweb.google.com/Awen1980/Wedding . Enjoy.

My Wedding Day

2008-10-01T19:37:00.004+02:00

We got married yesterday. Whatever was said that day or before, and I know this because I was there, they didn't mean those mean words. Everybody was touched in a way. It was a beautiful occasion, an important day, and the celebration of enough strength, faith and power to overcome the usual difficulties of sharing a house with a person very different from you, moving to a very different country and practicing radical acceptance.

The day began early. A rather charming conversation between my mother and father-in-law had happened a few days before:

Father: One of these days, Jose will marry.
Mother: Yes.
Father: When it happens, don't make me aware of it.

So, my brother-in-law and his wife picked my mother-in-law up early that morning and drove to our place. From here, she helped me iron my gold shirt and Jose's brown one for the big day, and we went to the civil registry to meet the rest of Jose's friends. Jose and I said "I do", Curri and Ángel took photos and then had lunch in my favourite restaurant in Madrid, a vegetarian and pirate-inspired place very appropriately called "Isla del Tesoro". Really nice. Then we went to have a coffee in one bar, a drink in another and slowly one by one we came home while the group went bar-hopping. Nothing that was said would move me from my center and from the glory of that day. It was all earned with merit and a very rare sense of honour.

The photos will come soon, I hope. My own camera is broken, and Jose doesn't have one, so we just relied on friends. Let's hope and trust that this time the photos will come, and then I'll proudly share them.

It's merry to live in a country where gay people have civil rights, even though not many other things about it are as merry. Married life isn't new to me in many ways, since we had been living together for a year and four months. But even though we've been walking the same road as one ever since, from now on the roads we cross will see each of us both in a very different light. Which is what I sought.

And I love my husband.

Colour Matters

2008-09-29T11:33:00.002+02:00

One of the main characteristics of immature judgement is black-and-white, good-versus-evil thinking, but it's not really something that should be punished, despised or shunned. It's a sprout of something important. It's the first sign of a willingness to understand, and certainly a connection.

Obviously black-and-white thinking is not restricted to youth or ignorance. At any stage in our lives, when we are caught amidst the flames of drama or led by those who are, we all tend to throw around harsh judgements and to miss important, invisible details that are also crucial for actual comprehension. Some actually do that even when they aren't, but that's not something we can avoid.

After this weekend's "meditation" retreat (which was little more than another typically Spanish, dog-crowded fiasco/nightmare), I decide to let go of limited visions and mean-spiritedness to embrace all colours, even those I cannot see. Since I want a richer life, I choose to embrace, not cut the world in half.

But I'll never again be fooled by Disneyland dreams this side of the Pyrenees, anyway.

Image: Kristin Miller's "Spiral Heart" quilt.

Stag Party

2008-09-26T18:56:00.001+02:00

Tomorrow morning I'm off to the mountains with my gay men's meditation group for a short retreat until Sunday. I'm really thankful and definetely looking forward to this chance to chill down, disconnect from the drama, reconnect with the Source and revitalise before the wedding.

Qirin image from Ahyicodae.com

Equinox

2008-09-22T14:23:00.002+02:00

Autumn blessings to all my friends and readers. May you grow in gratitude for all the love, joy and abundance around us on this beautiful day.

May dignity bless and shine on your releases, and may you find Deep Peace in all you are surrendering to the Ebbing Tides.

We are well on the Good Red Road.

Old Ghost

2008-09-22T00:31:00.003+02:00

In less than ten days I'll be a married man, and, truth be told, there is a reason loneliness, isolation and forsakenness have been a recurring theme in my blog lately. This is an issue that's become prominent in my life all of a sudden, and I've been doing my best to avoid it. Silly me.

I have never been able to talk to any of my old people. My father, poor old man, is a plain loser in life. Spent many nights of his adult and elderly years and much of his physical health playing cards with Rotarians and Freemasons, but was never invited into their closed spaces and feast in the top of the social Pyramid. His only advice to me ever was, "nobody needs you, and you need these people who make you feel so miserable". In these exact words, albeit in Portuguese, repeated over and over again, even when it didn't apply. My mother has always had the maturity of Paris Hilton's chihuahua, and anything I let slip to her, she'd spread around the very toxic neighbourhood we used to live in, and in three days, my life was nightmare. Once, I was living on my own for a few months and I made the mistake of letting her know over the phone that I had got a cold. She immediately air-mailed to me a list of blood tests her gynecologist prescribed to me, and I had four bottles of blood drawn from me early in the morning, with nothing in my stomach and a heavy headache. Because I had a cold and was in perfect health, my body naturally raised the defenses. The following week, the news in Rio were that I had Leukemia. No wonder my social life has always been one nightmare after another, and lately, the ultimate challenge for me.

We all know how the story goes, and here is how the story went: I got engaged to a guy who's been trying to change me from day one I stepped into HIS country, HIS house, HIS social circle, HIS life, all to fit HIS tastes. And then he convinces me I'm too arrogant to admit I'm wrong. I've given up everything I could afford to give up already, and I'm fine with it, but I really couldn't get back to eating meat again, and now he's determined to make me feel miserable, really miserable, and of course guilty, too, everytime we go out and there's anything food ever mentioned.

His evolution has been very positive, very impressive and very welcome. I'm thankful that now he doesn't make a scene when I want to caress him during the day anymore. But I can't help feeling stifled sometimes, when I tell him, for instance, that I am hungry, and he with a flicker and a flash and a heavy whiff of ash suddenly thrusts, shrouded in the smoke he keeps making: "You see, if you were more flexible..." And then he talks about Morocco and some other muslim, homophobic shithole I don't have the money, the papers or the wits to visit anytime soon.

I swear I only went to the meeting with his gang tonight because I was too lonely here in the flat, and none of the new friends I've made here was available for a walk or something. And my webfriends weren't online to talk to me.

In moments like these, unresolved ghosts from the past resurface. And I'm exhausted of dealing with them all by myself by now. I know it was a stupid move to quit the gay therapy group since they came back from the Summer, but I need to cull the projects that currently cost money, and that was the next in the list of nice-with-a-price. But I need to address this issue. I need to fix myself and be able to actually have a social life outside the Internet.

Image: "Loneliness 7", by Karol Petres.

Flying Birds

2008-09-20T14:56:00.003+02:00

The current spiritual bliss I'm experiencing with all the stuff I've been blogging about lately (and then some) apparently doesn't come without a price. I want to grieve a little bit here about the recent minor withering of the Lavender Society for Alternative Sexuality Heroes.

In January, I very naïvely started a beautiful project on one of these game-applications Facebook has. The game was basically a race for hero levels and new hero superpowers, and then using our abilities on each other. In the very beginning of the enormous, fast-growing community around the hero game that was multiplying by the hour, we became one of the pioneer groups, and by far the largest sexuality-related group on the game sub-culture.

Quickly, we got to feature over one thousand very active and very vocal members. Many of them I considered great friends. We became a very important part of each other's lives in the blink of an eye. Together, we managed to take the Lavender Society to Top Eight hero groups (within a universe of tens of thousands of groups) in no time, always faithful to a spirit of camaderie, fun and radical anarchism.

Then in July, after months and months dedicated full-time (about nine hours a day) to making the game environment a more interesting, healthier and richer experience, Facebook deleted my account overnight, and never replied to any of my (very, very polite, given the circumstances) emails, never giving me a reason for that. I was desolated, and decided I deserved some time off, to recover from the blow.

Slowly but still suddenly, a considerable number of our heroes started to jump ship. I understand desertions happen all the time, as they had certainly happened before, and I had no means and no intention to avoid them, but having people leave so incessantly felt a bit like betrayal.

In the heat of the debate, new members became very vocal in a way they initially didn't have the right to. But, true to my anarchist priciples, I gave them that right, so they used it to create an anti-Awen club, specializing in distorting my words and questioning an authority I never really exercised. And now, slowly, most high-level heroes of the Lavender Society are leaving.

If I still had my old Elvenking account, I could restore the Lavender Society to its former glory quick and easy. But because I feel very leery with Facebook these days, and because I know there is malicious propaganda going on under the table, I don't have the heart to get my hands dirty with more shit right now, while I'm harvesting many spiritual blessings. So I've decided to let it all go.

I have no idea how many friends I will have left from the Lavender Society in a few months from now. I know I did make a few good friends there that won't ditch me, or us as a group. But I know that you've got to let go of a bird, let it fly away and check if it will return to you in order to be sure you were meant to be together. Since most of these strayaways aren't probably coming back this time around, they've never been my friend anyway.

So, I move on with my training, my projects and my own life. I really need to compensate for the many months lost investing so irrationally in a Facebook game.

This probably teaches me an important lesson, though, given that it's happening in tandem with Tribe.net's recent major crisis. We are given gifts by pioneers and community leaders. They haven't let us down out of negligency, and it doesn't feel right to turn your back to someone who opened you their door. True bonds and societies, hero or human, are built with tolerance, high times, low times, time on, time off and even time-outs, but definetely not flying by from tree to tree. Time Manipulation and Teleportation at least taught me that.

You are all free to fly, and I am proud that for a many months I managed to create a beautiful community and prove once that gays, lesbians and bisexuals aren't a minority.
And one more thing: the Lavender Society is still standing.

Image: our logo, by Andy Nguyen.

Okay, really,

2008-09-17T00:54:00.003+02:00

I love music, and I was actually very much meant for it.

Clarity

2008-09-15T01:15:00.002+02:00

I do turn off the lights to sleep, but I sure thing hate the Dark when I'm in the pink. I know I'm not Miss Dharma yet, but I've been managing to stick to my New Year Resolution of helping my inner waters run clearer, still and, therefore, deep.

First, there's Dr. Overtone's aid. I've always guessed I was missing an important part of life due to my numbed ear and rough musicality, but now that I've been guided a bit further into the heart of the Sound and Silence Mysteries, I realise how many lives I have been missing. There is a common feature among zen masters, jedis, and soul musicians. When you let the Dual Lord (Sound and Silence) master you, you master yourself. And you float in nirvanic bliss more and more often.

The Light that began shining in that part of my head has been grounding, centering and connecting me to the Now-Here. That's the most empowering experience, really, and I don't think there's another way to live life more intensely. The hot-air balloon-head mode had been on for too long lately, and I'm glad Spirit found a very organic and rewarding way to help me realign with Life.

On Thursday, I had a talk with my vocal coach. I know that I shouldn't begin talkings with people lately, that I'm much better off just savouring the moment, the activities, the opportunities and the silent company, so I can hear the Truth more clearly. But I let it slip that I was proud of my headway over the past 11 months working with her.

From there the conversation spiralled down. Maybe it's just my defensiveness making me hallucinate in paranoia, but she did repeat that she doesn't see me singing other than as a hobby and for her, only. Naturally, she doesn't have to see me singing to a large audience, because I can do it myself and it's probably my own job anyway, but I've been letting that interefere with my practice at home.

I know I'm very tender with this subject, but I've invested so much in this and I haven't really got another solution for my life other than making it happen. And I know if I make a "B plan", the "B plan" will work, but my dream will not be fulfilled. That's what B plans are for, anyway. So, I turned to the Faeries' Oracle to see what They had to say: basically, it's a path that requires patience, a lot of energy and commitment, and that if I release my need to use other people's "help" and well-meaning opinions, I will be transformed to go on.

Pretty obvious when I hear it from Their mouths/cards.

Actually, I've been consulting with Them quite a lot lately. I've began reading Brian's cards regularly to check what the next step in overcoming my stuttering is. Yes, now that I'm on a nice upswing with German, too anxious to overfocus on Music and feeling like it's time to ride the White Swan to new grounds, I've been inspired to take action and overcome my stuttering for good. Doctors said many times over they couldn't help me, so I'd better check with the Otherworld, as it hasn't let me down in all these years.

It all began with two Singers of the Realms holding keys. One holding the key to myself, the Singer of Courage, and the other holding the key to the issue, stuttering, the Singer of Intuition. Aiding the Singer of Intuition is the playful Mikle à Muckle. I like spotting the main Faeries in each reading and journeying to the Otherworld to meet them live and get direct guidance. The Singer of Intuition, from inside the cave full of bats where It lives, taught me some in an extremely quiet voice and very few words. Where Intuition speaks from, It has to speak low and little, so as to not disturb the bats in their sleep. The Singer of Courage trains warriors, mages and champions regularly, and gave me some training, too.

So, today I've checked in again to find out what the next step would be. The rainbow faery Iris and her amphibian, archer, and gnome helpers promised me the song of three other Singers in my Quest after I fool another storm. First, the Frog Queen advises a sense of adventure and a spirit of exploration to take me out from the toads' pool to the sunlight the Guardian at the Gate is inviting me to see on the Otherside and, to quote Lady Macbeth the author of the textbook, "discover if we are still frogs or if we have become something much more." The next Singer is the Singer of Transfiguration, which will be revealed by Death. Makes sense that the amphibian has to die for "something much more" to take its place. Especially if it's a something-much-more with a fluid talking. After that, my Faery Guide bridges the Singer of Healing and me. When all is done, the Rainbow will shine in the sky, and yeah, I will overcome stuttering.

Really, if I'm deceiving myself with all the ends meeting so magically and for the first time ever experiencing complete Harmony (musically, metaphorically and otherwise), I don't want to switch back to stuck-in-the-mud mode. I prefer the Rainbow's clarity.

I belong to the Light.

Image by Megumis-Chan.

Hedgecraft

2008-09-08T16:14:00.001+02:00

Being a solitary in the Craft, even and especially if temporary, is an opportunity to filter, summarize, potentialize and run all the lore you've garnered through the test of time. Currently, I'm living the consequences of my decisions over the past years that led me from being a very active public witch to a kitchen magician, journaling regularly and exploring rabbit's holes mostly by himself--though I'll admit having confidants and lurking in a few Internet discussion groups just to keep me grounded in the social experience. Maybe it shouldn't be surprising that my blog, once avidly read and commented on by a considerable number of people, is now written for very few, very faithful visitors.

The withdrawal from a very positively and affirmatively responding community was so hard a strike that it blinded me for many months, and now I begin to see clearly my possibilities and open doors. And, instead of lassoing fluttering lore from the other side of this world and dragging it down to where it just might not belong to, I'm consolidating my personal lore and bringing together my magical tools and tricks. And in the process, bringing together this world and Faery, too.

I'm slowly but steadily incorporating all the intense creative explorations and artistic trainings of these Golden (past three) Years to the very pre-basic stuff: grounding, centering, connecting with the Bird Spirit. Stuff almost all witches I have met live or over the Web never really understood. Earthed, I let the seeds grow free and with dignity. Anchored in my Center, I let the whirlwind draw near what is rightfully part of my Truth, and sweep away what is meant to go. Connected, I listen more to Divine Guidance than bickerings and ill feelings, and journal what needs to be recorded with more intelligence.

Every now and then, though, the bad gremlin still sticks its head out of its lonesome warren and torments me with all the lies they fed me together with drugs when I was a kid. This is my current challenge: let go of my attachment to this shit. I am not isolating myself from the world, I am not drowning in Fantasy. I am not ruining my life. I am building a new, much more dignified one. I am diving in the Mystery of the Self. In my own way.

Image: "Solitude", unknown artist but found on Unicornlady.net.

Breath

2008-09-05T11:39:00.004+02:00

Art-as-Spirituality geeks like myself know that it's all in the frame. From your birth to the last whisper, the frame around your time here on Earth is Breath. Breathing is grounding, centering, fixing up and then some. In dis-ease, food, rest, water and love exchange definetely help, but without connecting with Breath, you cannot reconnect with the Body Temple and get everything back in Order.

In my current singing and dancing sessions with the Faeries, I'm discovering the powerful magic that awareness of Breath ignites. Faeriesongs firstly bloom with the whispering of exhalation and the cantus firmus of Faeriedance is the movement of the Breath, connecting pelvis and heart. From the diaphragm and all its associated sways, swells, swallows and squeezes, all other movements and sounds arise, changing the environment at once.

We've all heard that five minutes a day paying attention to our breath will heal us and change our life over time. Letting breath sing and move you will change you and your environment instantly.

Faery Guide

2008-09-03T00:57:00.002+02:00

I went ahead and, riding the energies of last month's Blue Moon and Lunar Eclypse, bought Brian Froud's Faeries' Oracle. Faeries had been calling to me a lot since the Solstice in many different ways and languages. Even though I can possibly be accused of some sins in this life, I certainly have never turned a deaf ear to Otherworld callings. I just can't.

Today, I've painted with oil pastels card 0, the Faery Guide. That card comes blank, because it's yours to portray whoever takes you "beyond the fields we know", thus making the deck your own. No need to go through an elaborate ritual or "blood the Runes". With creativity, art and courage to stain the impersonal whiteness of the virgin card with your personal lore, you make the whole set your spiritual ally forevermore. I gotta say, I love this idea!

My Faery Guide has been clear for me for some years now, so when I opened the package and found the blank card numbered zero, I knew it had to be It. But just for double checking, I slept my Faeriesleep, and journeyed to the Otherworld to meet It live again. The White Swan took me on Its back, dove with me under the Waters, flew me up to the Stars and toured me through Its many, multiversal tales of inner truth, long wayfares and crossed roads. I came back more than reassured. For my first experience ever with oil pastels, and without any previous training or information whatsoever, I think I did a pretty cool job and uncovered more personal power.

The book, written by Jesa Macbeth, is a joy in itself. Very beginner-friendly, but totally focused on the work with these cards, it brought me the answers to many questions I'd never been able to even formulate in my head. She teaches, among other fun, joyful tricks, a very special way of singing and dancing to awaken and stir the energies and magical currents of Faery wherever you are. Today, in the middle of my Faeriedance, the whole thing became so ecstatic I had to interrupt. But I'll be back tomorrow, and things are bound to become outrageously interesting as I let go of fear and control.

Double checking is fine, though, if only as an excuse for listening to stories and a vivid trip over the three worlds.

Image: The Singer of the Chalice. The most generous and powerfully revealing card/Being in the whole deck. And the first one I picked, too.

Summer Report

2008-08-30T00:04:00.002+02:00

From my balcony tonight I see many windows lit up just before Midnight. They weren't here last night. Or any night since August 1st. Vacationers are back to Madrid, and that probably means the "course year", as they call it here the year beginning in Autumn instead of Winter, will begin soon. Because Summer's kinda over in the Society I live in, and because it's been long since I last posted to my blog, I suppose it's time I wrote some.

I have enjoyed this Summer in many ways. Found a friend in a dog, burnt in the Sun King's fire a bunch of attachments to low-self-worth games I played and even-lower-self-worth communities I used to participate in, and blew the ashes to the farthest travelling wind. The cleared way brought me new blessings, especially a new hot Divination tool (Brian Froud and Jesa MacBeth's "Faeries' Oracle"), musical headway, and the German language. Each of these three alone, Music, a foreign language and the Faeries, are in their own right marvellous door-openers, but probably the best achievement this year was cooling down (despite the oppressive 95ºF heat), opening my eyes and letting go of the guilt to enjoy the first time in my life I am unemployed and not scared of being kicked from the flat, humiliated before family, abused by anybody or pressured to look successful to the neighbourhood. I have wondered many times throughout this Summer if I am given the blessing of a second youth to rethink my goals in life.

I've started working with a life coach. We're still in the very beginning, and already much shit related to my round-shape-forced-to-be-square days has surfaced, leaving me a bit frozen, too worried of slipping into a downward self-pity spiral, but just the questions he asks me and his invitations to set goals, define core values and plan strategies are very positively triggering.

I may not have been writing much, I may not even have moving stories to tell just yet--but the Storm keeps brewing, and I've been just fooling around with it.

It's my job, after all.

A Dog's Life

2008-08-21T18:04:00.000+02:00

My parents-in-laws decided to go to Asturias on vacation, and our dog-loving siblings-in-law are away in Mexico. But dogs don't travel in the Summer. Neither do South-American immigrants. No matter what we ourselves had planned, and no matter what the little guy needs right here and right now, Jose's old people simply ditched the poor thing with us yesterday morning and hit the Road North. For over a week.

Beyond the trauma of the experience (for all parts involved who stayed in Madrid), the whole thing has been enlightening and very instructional for me, who gets to spend 24 hours a day imprisioned in the house with the new ghost. I'm learning a lot about what hurts my animal soul and what it needs.

I'm a dog-phobe, but apparently I'm doing a great job in controlling whatever scent we dog-phobes exhale that makes dogs attack, so so far Toy (the deadweight's name) hasn't attacked me. Jose, however, hasn't been as lucky. His middle and ring fingers are still swollen from yesterday's bite.

We don't have his toys here to play with him, my in-laws forgot them--though I'm sure the vacationers' booze was conviniently packed for the trip, with not a drop left behind. I try to refrain from touching Toy or showing a lot of affection and moodswings. I know dogs work under complex psychological laws, and are way more merciless than all the animals I love and can cope up with. Because I've managed to become perfect strangers with Toy, having me in the house is almost like having another ghost who doesn't care a bit about him, so he's desperately lonely.

He hasn't eaten for over 24 hours, doesn't sleep and everytime somebody opens a door in the building (i.e., all the time), he leaps to the hallway and wiggle what is left of his tail. He used to scratch the door, but I told him off yesterday, and he's obedient now. It breaks my heart to see him so lonely and so desperate for affection from somebody who can actually give it to him without losing a pretty useful and functional part of their body in the beast's teeth.

Dogs are territorial. Never underestimate the depressive effect it has on a dog to deprive him of the home he's known for eight years. He's given up exploring the house within six or eight hours yesterday, and this afternoon, he forgot to sit endlessly with his head up and ears open trying to hear when their owners will climb the stairs to reclaim him. But still, every now and then he goes to the closed entrance door, sits and cries his mournful, high-pitched dog-cry.

Whatever my in-laws had in mind (or in cunt), they are just big-time jerks for buying an animal, training him to have a co-dependency relationship with them, and then dumping the little guy like this.

Toy is a marvellous animal, really. Very polite and impressively clever, he knows that here he cannot bark like a spoiled, very Spanish drama queen, like my in-laws expect him to and trained him to be. So he's silent for the most part of the day. He learnt that when he goes out in the balcony, he can bark like mad and nobody will punish him. So he flees to the outdoors bit of our flat, howl for the Sun or the Moon, whoever is shining in the sky, and then comes back in, silent and invisible again. He knows what he needs, and now he gets it without causing any nuisance. I'm successfully training the dog to be a cat.

Today, he's let me take my German lesson at LiveMocha--it was the stupid ISP Orange who left me down once more. At this pace, I might actually enjoy having a dog in the house. No matter how depressed he is here.

Poor guy.

Image: Toy's race and colour. A shining, light-brown cocker spaniel. But Toy looks way sadder these days.

Blue Moon Report

2008-08-16T22:29:00.003+02:00

Lately, my mailbox, blog list and conversations have all mentioned the current August Blue Moon Blues. Change is in the air right now, they say, but when isn't it, really? Also, "karmic issues are on the table" and everything is "messed up". Personally, since Thursday (maybe Wednesday), I've been surfing an incredible wave, reaching high altitudes in all my current projects (especially German, Spanish and Music). Even the food I cook tastes better these days, and today it finally rained in Madrid! Last night, when all neighbourhood was asleep I went outside in my balcony for a brief Drawing Down The Moon ritual. Tonight, I'll do a full ceremony.

I'm loving the momentum, and if there's any menace in the Blue Moon, it's that it'll be over by tomorrow!

Empfehlung

2008-08-12T17:05:00.002+02:00

In case you guys want to use the rest of the Summer for getting unrusty or trying a new language, or even are planning to take on a new language when Summer is over, I've found this great website you might enjoy: Livemocha.com is a community website with neat, free courses in several languages and other cool resources such as flashcard sets, dialogues sorted by difficulty levels and live chat for language practice with natives or other learners of the language you're studying. All for free. You can also tutor/help students in a language you master, and last week they've released a podcast for advanced learners. I've been studying German there for two weeks now, and I'm quite excited about my results already.

Visit Livemocha.com. In case you decide to join, add me as a friend there:

http://www.livemocha.com/profiles/view/816386

Image: Neuschwanstein, emerging from the fog.

A Step in Faith

2008-08-10T17:53:00.003+02:00

My issues with pitch are still haunting me, to the point of considering giving up the closest thing I have to a life purpose, so I decided I'd do what got me unstuck and took me to new places against all odds many times before: pretend like I have no other choice than insisting. And I've just ordered through Amazon.com W. A. Mathieu's "The Listening Book". Sheer intuition and wise irrationality. I'm proud of that.

I'll probably read his other works in the Future, too.

Threshold

2008-08-06T17:31:00.003+02:00

The engagement, a numerologist friend, monsters under my bed, shades of Saturn's Return already, die-hard old habits in check, an impeccable and very sound cycle end in my blogging activity, and an eerie silence are announcing a new dawn.

And I feel like I have nobody to hold me, for better and for worse.

Wonderstock, new round

2008-08-02T19:43:00.001+02:00

Again, the Waning Year opens the pages of my Pressed Faeries Book, and all the fantastic fauna that has been haunting my kitchen pops out to dance on air like fireworks.

I’ve taken on the task of reproducing my blog on a new account I’ve opened on Blogspot.com since I’m unemployed, experiencing tranquility and deep grounding in the new home/Old World, and generally open to the blessings of the Universe again. And, naturally, ready to take it in from the Man In The Mirror (who—truth be told—changed a lot over three years and 200 entries!).

Through reading posts and comments with the right state of consciousness and an eye of a miner, gold surfaces. Gods, I love my junk!

I am reminded of and impressed with how far I have travelled with baby steps. Witnessing my own unfolding in retrospect teaches that great spiritual powers like Resiliency and Commitment are not born neither inborn, but rather gathered along the road with delicate memos you write yourself on the best moments, wound-licking on the worst, and the lessons you are taught through it all. When shared with a community tuned to the same frequency, Time speeds up and the next blessing ripens before the next need sprouts.

I watched both from the outside (in Time) and in 1st person memory rerun how the sprouting, the growing, the blooming and the strengthening of the roots take place. Most comments were right: no matter the weed and the toxin they feed you, over the long haul you’ll grow strong and shine your light. Weather is everchanging, but the stuff of dreams is forever. A vision charged with Passion is all it takes to drive the flowerbud through the green stem. The best lessons in an environment that’s making everything possible to deter life force.

Overseeing the whole process, fortunately recorded, evaluated and commented on the Book of the Crossroads, I have come to understand how every episode, merry or not, is part of a longer journey, and the direction is very important. I see now how my days in São Paulo were a necessary stepping stone toward a greater fulfilment as a human being. I could see, too, how I wanted to hold on to it, resisting in letting go of it. Who can blame me? It was probably the most successful stage of my life and the most organic growth I have ever experienced. The Springtime of a whole lifetime condensed in two years. I wanted it to last forever. And now I know it can...

I see how much of the flora I have grown and the fauna I have bred in these 200 entries are fruits of the ways I have chosen to tread, or just random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty from generous fellow travellers I crossed paths with at some point. For almost three years, this has definitely been the Book of the Crossroads in that sense.

As the garden of commenters grew (and indeed in many instances the comments were more remarkable than the entries), new colours started to be added to the black-and-white so typical of vile juvenile thinking, creating the Rainbow pattern so typical of actual maturity: inclusive, accepting, open to change. Dreams were left along the way, some just buried in an (actual) time capsule, and many sprouts that I took for granted grew to be my personal Anandabodhi in many occasions. Above all, I gracefully built many relationships on the grateful foundations of honesty, sharing, trust and kindness.

What a long journey. It’s depressingly easy to forget and let go of all I’ve earnt, built and created along the way, and how integrated I have been with my community and my environment. So, I’m really glad I have everything recorded. The next step will be applying tags to entries, and then on to the third and most groundbreaking round of Operation Wonderstock: my Morning Pages!

Whatever appreciation for my writing people manifest, truth is that nothing can pay the gratitude I feel right now for living in Wonderland. Wherever I physically am.

Thank you. All.

Improvisation

2008-07-31T17:37:00.000+02:00

Once I blogged about my first vocal coach here in Madrid, and Khrysso promptly commented on the entry:

"Hope you love it!! (And that you don't get your improvisational abilities trained out of you, but I think you're old enough for that not to happen.)"

In my session last night with my current, heaven-sent coach, I had a great insight on how much of what many previous (bad) coaches tagged as "tone-deafness", including the Cuban girl I was blogging about who wound up ditching me because of that, were actually the inability to recognise what is, what isn't and where (not) to use Improvisation.

For some unknown reason, I have that stuff that made Jazz the most respected of non-European musical traditions running deep in my blood. I don't remember listening too much to Jazz when I was young, or even in the past few years. I also didn't become so enthusiasted about Seán-Nós or other Celtic improvised singings until very late in my teens, but now when I start a lied by Mozart, I ornament, and change measure, intervals and whole musical phrases, always faithful and committed to the harmony, lyrics and chords. An actually tone-deaf person would never be able to do that.

I'm apparently good in Improvisation. So good it's been making me sound horrible sometimes.

Question now is: Khrysso how come you knew I had "improvisational skills" before you ever heard me?

The Mage I Am

2008-07-28T20:26:00.002+02:00

Your result for What Mage Are You?...

Bard

"Your fates whisper softly; we sing it boldly."

Bards delight in novelty. They are optimistic, enthusiastic, and vivacious, craving expressions of strong emotion. With a dramatic flair, they share their experiences with others, hoping to reveal some universal truth or win others over in support of a cause. Attuned to possibilities, Bards scan their environment, probing the emotions, needs, and motivations of others. This sensitivity sometimes conflicts with their intense drive for personal authenticity. Spontaneous and personable, they attract others to their company.

They are initiators of change, keenly perceptive of possibilities. They energize and stimulate others through their contagious enthusiasm. They prefer the start-up phase of a project or relationship, and are tireless in the pursuit of new-found interests. Bards are able to anticipate the needs of others and to offer them needed help and appreciation. They bring zest, joy, liveliness, and fun to all aspects of their lives. They are at their best in situations that are fluid and changing, and that allow them to express their creativity and use their charisma. They tend to idealize people, and can be disappointed when reality fails to fulfill their expectations. They are easily frustrated if a project requires a great deal of follow-up or attention to detail.

Bards seek continuity through harmonious relationships and collective values. They excel at picking up on the tone of a situation and acting accordingly, adding warmth to a cool setting or turning sour into sweet. They naturally seek to know what people do well, what they enjoy, and where and how they work. They seem to have an infinite number of acquaintances from all walks of life and are always on the lookout for people in need and those who can help out. Bards weave and strengthen the collective fabric of social conventions and interactions. Inclusiveness is important and they are particularly sensitive to those who are excluded.

They are masters of transforming reality to story – and vice versa. Their voice and bodies developed over time to contain magic. When they sing or dance, when they move amongst others people grow calm and many gather to listen. Foes will lose everything, even their hearts. Bards are walking enchantments, masters of illusion and charm. One might never know their losing the battle until they wake up - that is if they do. Most are diviners, capable of telling the stories to come.

Take What Mage Are You? at HelloQuizzy

Tuning Fork

2008-07-20T22:39:00.002+02:00

I don't know if everybody has a regular check-in with grounding and vibe-shifting tools and tricks, but I know everybody should. For me, Reiki, Triple Soul work, Morning Pages and incubatory sleep do the trick pretty well, but absolutely nothing in this world works better than a powerful story. And ever since I began taking Wonderstock in my blog, a few golden oldies have become very evident to me.

Today I went to Filmoteca Española with my friends from the therapy group to watch "Brokeback Mountain" for the fourth time in the movie theatre. Old readers of my blog have seen how this same story, whether the original tale written by Annie Proulx for The New Yorker, or Ang Lee's tremendously powerful rendition of the tale for the silver screen, changed gears, grounds and grasps in central directives of my life, but it is just amazing how the same story can disclose new vistas and open up greater levels of understanding everytime it is well told to you.

This time what woke me up wasn't the just-say-yes-and-leap part that broke my heart three years ago when I was on the verge of leaving my whole life behind and stepping into the unknown. This afternoon, I became self-conscious in relating to a significant other, how to set priorities for two, and how to just treasure the simple pleasure of having a good man (or a good toy) to spend quality time with. To create a solid bond with that which you long for. How many times in the past twenty years have you spent quality time with someone or something that is important to you? I'm thrilled to have it shoven in my face in a painful way. Privilege.

Easier said than done, I know, when you have fear all around you, when you are used to it, so used to fear that you attract more fearful people and build a fortress of fear around, so that love cannot cross the icy walls and break you free. A person like Ennis is haunted by a programming that won't let him live. So do we. It's our mission and quest to break that chain.

Like a fiddle or a choir director, people need tuning forks to make sure they keep playing on the desired pitch. Throughout my adult life, "Brokeback Mountain" has been the a constant, reliable one.

Gods save Annie Proulx, Ang Lee and the hot Ledger/Gyllenhaal couple.

Longing

2008-07-16T13:02:00.001+02:00

Because I'm from a generation that still had role models among mainstream musicians, and because the tickets to Loreena McKennitt's concert here in Madrid were so fucking expensive, I decided I'd just crash into Conde Duque and seize the opportunity to see one of my favourites live at least for once in my life.

Plans A (hiding in the library's loo), B (overhearing the concert from another part of the facility, behind the stage and open to anybody) and C (a glamour) didn't work, so I just stood in the gate, listening to the songs and looking at part of the audience. At some point, a short, grumpy guy elbowed me to the side and left, followed by his partner. Because she and I probably have something in common, something clicked and her green eyes shone when she handed me her own ticket. "¿Quieres?" I can't remember if I looked at her again after looking at the ticket, although I do remember saying "muchas gracias" twice, and I skipped all the way to the standing up zone, right on time to catch the beginning of the last song on the set list, "Amhrán Duit", which is Gaelic for "Your Song"--but in that instance it was really MINE.

Then the set list was over. When she and her nine-piece orchestra came back for the bis, they did an instrumental theme that's probably inedit, because I've never heard it anywhere in my whole Loreena McKennitt collection. And after that, she performed her "Penelope's Song", a supernatural and very human hymn to all the feelings of longing, love and Faith against all odds the wife of Ulysses nurtured for twenty years, waiting and keeping suitors at bay. Impossible to not feel honoured with that song, given that I had longed to meet McKennitt for many long years myself.

Fact is, unless you're a full-time Buddha, permanently in your Samadhi, or you're a miserable, repressed loser, you probably have longed for something, somebody or some place in your life, so Penelope is everything that Humanity means in its most faithful and honest state. Nurture your longing, no matter how far it seems to be. The longing itself is another name for Life.

So, for the homebound lover and her far-sailing beloved, for the Canadian bard and her Greek Muse, for the starry-eyed fan and his stellar idol, here's the song, dedicated to all the Stars that shine between you and the generous strangers, you and the object of your longing, and you my reader and me, in these mysterious, invisible Crossroads that ride the Black virgin fields of all spaces:

Image: Penelope said no to many suitors, and remained faithful to Ulysses throughout his long absence of twenty years. Weave on your visions, and never let go.

The Fall

2008-07-08T13:15:00.002+02:00

(Inspired by Dean's Awen-inspired blog entry last night).

Before It All (refered to as BIA from now on), you had nothing but your Bird Spirit, which is your Godself, your personal Kami/Loa. It had all powers and all stories to tell. But then, since BIA had no listening ears, Tribe.net blogs or physical sex, your Bird Spirit was bored to Death (even though BIA is another name for Eternal Life), and It decided it was time to begin a long, winding process called The Fall.

Your Bird Spirit has the capacity and the nature of attracting to Itself all it wants and needs, so it attached to Itself a couple of malleable, minor spirits in order to extend and live in what It meant to be a world of Creativity and self-expression. If It intended to go physical, the natural thing would be the ability to communicate, impress, form and be formed by circumstances. Shifting between active and passive. Like gay anal sex, or like Tango.

Your Bird Spirit contained (and still does) a seed of the tree you were supposed to grow up to be, your ultimate creation. But after the Fall, other Fallen people who fell before you did also had "seeds" of trees they thought you were supposed to be. You're clever, you can guess the two seeds don't match, and because other people were bigger than your physical body, had more cunning and expertise in the physical matters, and held positions, authorities, titles and wands of several colours, they began weaving patterns in your minor souls through physical abuse, repetition and lies they might actually have believed were true themselves. And suddenly, you forgot it all about BIA as the Fall moved on to the next stage.

All kinds of wicked vows and locks were woven in your minor spirits, including a giant barrier between what you now were calling yourself and your Bird Spirit. And your original/ORIGIN-all seed. And everything BIA. You forgot the reason why of the whole thing, and dressed up, made up a name and a cool pose, sacrificed your daily freewill, made lots of money to buy many things you don't really want, pretended you were on your way, and destroyed every possible thing you met along the way, whatever the way you were going was. And of course, forced other Fallen newbies a seed to a tree you planned for them. Nevermind what they had in mind. Or in Spirit.

But the Bird Spirit will always be there. It was BIA and will be when you wake up from the nightmare. Hang in there.

One Word

2008-07-07T16:05:00.001+02:00

You can only type ONE Word!
Not as easy as you might think. Now change the answers to suit you and pass it on. It's really hard to only use one word answers. You can only type one word!

1. Where is your cell phone?
Table.

2. Where is your significant other?
Marbella.

3. Your hair?
Head.

4. Your mother?
Brazil.

5. Your father?
Brazil.

6. Your favorite thing?
Close.

7. Your dream last night?
Interesting.

8. Your dream/goal?
Elusive.

9. The room you're in?
Cool.

10. Your hobby?
Superheroes.

11. Your fear?
Loneliness.

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years?
World-roaming.

13. Where were you last night?
Everywhere. :D

14. What you're not?
Stable.

16. One of your wish list items?
Book.

17. Where you grew up?
Shithole.

18. The last thing you did?
Websurfing.

19. What are you wearing?
Underpants.

21. Your TV?
Off.

21. Your pet?
Marbella.

22. Your computer?
Here.

24. Your mood?
Bored.

25. Missing someone?
Boyfriend.

26. Your car?
None.

27. Something you're not wearing?
Socks.

28. Favorite store?
Basurama. :D

29. Your summer?
Hot.

30. Love someone?
Yes!

31. Your favorite color?
White.

32. When is the last time you laughed?
Now. :D

33. Last time you cried?
June.

34. Who will reply to this?
Aster.

Life in the Fun House

2008-07-05T14:55:00.001+02:00

Cocks inclined to the left, so common in our civilised culture, don't exist in tribal societies where men go naked or at least are allowed baggy pants during adolescence. Even though my old, useless people unsuccessfully raised me to be straight, I turned out not just bent, but mainly crooked, too. After talking to many parents, kids, Peter Pans, evil stepmothers and Faery Godparents, I've come to realise that although a kid needs many things, above everything the greatest blessing one can have when growing up is trusting oneself. And you cannot trust yourself without trusting in your feelings.

Like with most adults born after the Counterculture and before artificial baby-making, there are many very natural things I've been led to believe I don't have the right to. For instance, finding people, situations and places boring.

"They're the majority, you need them, they don't need you."

- Come again, dad??

"Only you are unsatisfied. Clearly, there's nothing wrong with them..."

- What does that exactly mean, doc?

"Your arrogance is tremendous. You think the world is an extension of you, not you part of a larger whole."

- Sorry, mom. I didn't mean to.

Fact is, some people sometimes might be boring. But just verbalizing it to myself is still very hard, and when something just feels wrong, my very well-trained mind just channels all the insatisfaction, dullness and annoyance back at me, and suddenly I'm Mr. Boredom because all these people at the table have been daydreaming about a safari or complaining about my vegetarianism for the past three hours.

And because I haven't been doing my meditation sessions regularly, and because I'm chemically addicted to the hormones and enzymes associated with the pattern, the agony haunts me until it's time to renew it with another name-calling backfire stroke.

After joining the gay men therapy group last month, I've been stirring tremendous shit, the kind of emotional junk you learn to supress when living as a couple. I look at my surroundings, feel sick and immediately and without any reasoning or sound judgement from my own part, I just invert the game so that I can play safe with other kids, and apply the label-who-cannot-be-named to myself. Suddenly I feel like I'm a boring person.
Gods, I know I've been whining A LOT here, and I do know how to call MYSELF boring, but because this is my blog, I'm entitled the right to use it to organize my ideas, sort through my feelings, open up for insight and increase the chances of breaking mental/emotional ground.

I need Iron Pentacle work.

The Youtube!!

2008-06-22T17:47:00.002+02:00

I've uploaded a very brief footage captured with my mobile of the performance yesterday. The song is incomplete, the pianist screwed big time and the audio sucks (not to mention the video quality!), but at least it's online, to prove I've done it. I'm so proud I've got something to show! :)

It's also on my Tribe.net profile. Thanks for being up there with me, gang!

One for our home

2008-06-18T17:28:00.002+02:00

From the creator of "The Secret", Rhonda Byrne:

"Every good thought, every good word, every good emotion, and every act of kindness, is lifting the vibration of your being to new heights. And as you begin to raise your vibration, a new life and a new world will reveal itself to you.

There is no limit to how high you can increase your vibration, because there is no limit to the good thoughts you can think, or the good words you can speak, or the acts of kindness that you can do. Other than transforming your own life through lifting your vibration, you lift others' lives too. The positive vibration of your energy emanates out like a stone thrown into water, touching our planet and every living thing on it. As you rise higher, you take the world with you.

The Secret Team has created a gift for you. This clip features our beautiful Planet Earth. As you experience this clip you will emit positive forces of energy across Planet Earth that will reach every single living thing on it. You will lift yourself, and as you lift yourself, you lift the entire world.

The magnificent music was composed and graciously gifted for this clip by composer Jo Blankenburg.

From The Secret to you, here is Planet Earth - our home.

May the joy be with you,

Rhonda Byrne"

Size Matters

2008-06-16T23:24:00.003+02:00

Especially for us who grew up in the Fun House, size is a matter of time. It's a little tricky, even more when you're in a new group and you're expected to form bonds of some kind. For some reason, I'm prone to going way too fast in opening my heart, embarassing as it is to admit (and even more to BE), and very slow in finding my true size within groups with people of different sizes. A matter of adjusting. Therefore, potentially not so simple and definetely not so quick to learn.

Last night, I joined a Gestalt therapy group for gay men born from within my yoga and meditation group. My very first group therapy experience ever, and my first profound community experience in a considerable time and another language. In a situation like this, the ancient voices of trainings and conditionings rise their volumes higher than the size you currently believe you have. I've been spending a day and two nights now worried about things I might have said or not said, how I might have performed, and, of course, what the guys there think about me now. Basically, quests for the Fun House mirrors of my childhood.

"They are many, you are only one." For adults back then, wisdom and truth was a matter of quantity, you see. "You need them, they don't need you." And seeking to be part of the larger quantity was the purpose, spice and meaning of life. "You have to please them." Yes, they DID say that in these exact words, but in Portuguese.

In perfect harmony with Natural and Universal Laws, that evening we had a trance journey to visit a statue that was us, become that statue and then learn and absorb lessons from them. As I shifted back to flesh and bones, my statue had given me the blessings of growing in size, deep peace and a veil of water all over as an non-oversized protection.

Then again, it all comes down to time. You're usually growing larger all the time, you just cannot see it because the nature of growth is going big then smaller, then big again and then a little bit smaller, and so on until you're big for good. When you're not growing, something is out of Order.

If you can't believe that, fake you are a Giant. If all you know is the Fun House, then just look for the swimsuit shop mirror, not the rearview.

For the Order, the good guys back in the Fun House and the Giant in all of us, here's Melissa Etheridge's groovy theme "Giant" serving as the Red Thread for so many heroes, giants, jerks and distorted mirrors:

Image: My fiancee and me on a mirror somewhere in Salamanca. March '08.

Away With The Faeries

2008-06-14T15:29:00.002+02:00

I am on the verge of Midsummer. Now is the time when the Sun King sacrifices Him Self at the apex of His power and gives way for Auberon's retinue to teach lessons the Trickster way. Good times; and, as experience might have taught you as it's taught me, the best time of the year for culling.

Today I've let go of one of the choirs I've been involved with. I joined this choir last September, following an ad at the municipality's musical library requesting tenors for a young people's choir. Truth is that I've been really uncomfortable in there for the whole year. Sexism, classism, arrogance, veiled discrimination against me for being a Latin American gay living in a working class district, and scandalous hipocrisy. As any Brazilian person is highly trained to, I simply shut my eyes and denied the atmosphere. I refused to recognise severe disrespectful actions of many kinds for several reasons: I was new in town and desperate to hang out with my own people, developping my own social circle and not relying on Jose's; I wanted to continue practicing my favourite art form and maybe get heads-up for coaches, recitals and local movidas; I knew the best way to learn fast the language was coexisting regularly with natives who couldn't speak Portuguese.

But since the other choir last month, when I was given the solo and rediscovered the joy of singing free from anxieties and OCD, enjoying the best about being an amateur, I knew I wouldn't fit this choir anymore. So I resisted almost two months of very boring rehearsals, early-morning Saturday sessions, awful singers getting laurels because they fitted the director's delirious fantasy of "good" choral performance (that really doesn't exist except for maybe in the newest CDs produced with hundreds of audio softwares on the recorded voices).

This morning, I decided to "cut the string that makes the hammer strike", as John Dowland used to sing centuries ago, and step out into the mushroom circle. The talk with the director was excellent and very honest, and I did wonderfully. I was very respectful, almost didn't stutter, thanked him for all the great help he gave me when I began in his choir and said that I planned to come back when I was good enough for them, bringing with me the scores of Brazilian music I still have in my parents' house whenever I went back home for a visit. He said the door will always be open for me, and I was relieved that I at least left on good terms.

Having a good time is the whole point in all of this. Everything less than a good time is a suspicious sign and Midsummer is the messenger of letting-go.

Image: Puck. I've never been too good in saying no to him.

The Solo

2008-06-01T17:12:00.003+02:00

My performance was of course less than brilliant, but I'm really proud for certain reasons: I earnt it with hard work, my voice or technique didn't falter before the audience, and finally, I gave my very best given all the circumstances. I was shrouded in encouragement and inundated by support from all sides. The audience--mostly our own friends, families and significant others--loved to bits, and applauded standing up.

I had a good time, and actually enjoyed myself.

In the end, people in the church would say "¡Felicidades!" or "¡Enhorabuena!" to me. I felt a little bad for not really deserving so much appreciation to be honest, but I do realise I now have a choice, like I always do: I either commit to improve and bet even more on the faerietale, or I give up for good.

Since creative accomplishment is a spiritual pathway, I pray for Faith now.

Advice

2008-05-31T17:31:00.002+02:00

Like Sunscreen, advice comes in many shapes, weights, colours and protection factors. The worst kind (as if "kind" was a suitable word here) is totally disrespectful and delirious, focused on the weakness, the failure and All You Don't Want. The most effective honours the joy, the moment, fragility, suppleness and All You Love About Life.

The "(Everybody Is Free to) Wear Sunscreen" video is based on a terrific musing Mary Schmich wrote over ten years ago for her newspaper in Chicago, and it spread like Ebola all over the Internet in mass emails during my late teens, becoming all the rage among my generation.

"Remember compliments you receive, forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how." Who wouldn't lend an ear and take to heart such sincere words? Can there be anything less than truth in that?

Tonight I debut as a soloist. Less than four hours to go. My fiancee advised me, "Enjoy it. It's where you wanted to be, and don't worry--we'll be there to applaud come what may". Gavin mentioned studying to relax and shine. My coach reminded me about the hollow and the supple, and our pianist told me to ask tonight's organist to cheat a little and play me the introductions of my solo instead of just the counterpoint.

Living in possibility requires letting go of control. And the afterglow of sound advice feels like Deep Peace.

If you feel like some, try the whole speech: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfq_A8nXMsQ

Then, share. Everybody deserves to grin on a Saturday.

Music

2008-05-23T23:19:00.001+02:00

When I first went through "The Artist's Way", what I was looking for was encouragement to pursue Storytelling as a way of emotional emmancipation and spiritual unfolding despite being a stammerer. Back then, I was down in the dumps for many reasons, most of which I have addressed several times in this Book of the Crossroads, and while Feri was the perfect guiding light to the bottom of the pit, it proved fickle, ill-intentioned and uncollaborative for the way back. Julia Cameron had an amazing clarity in her blazed trail, and impeccable kindness and generosity to share it, which are what made all the difference to me.

Upon undertaking her course, a long-dormant Musician began awakening in me. I grew up in a very music-unfriendly environment, for which I blame many defficiencies and destitutions in my character. At 15, I got a discman for my birthday gift, and during the rest of my teens I remember being addicted to Michael Jackson and then the Spice Girls, until later on I discovered other musicians through them. Pop Music was the only musical reference I had back then, since Radio and Television were the only access I had to anything anybody ever dared call Music, even when a visitor to the neighbourhood or somebody at school's sassy cousin or boyfriend popped out of the blue with a guitar.

But still, All that Jazz, Rock or Pop (with the very unforgiving demands for funny-but-empty things to say all the fucking time, expensive clothes and a slick hairdo, ostentation, previsibility disguised as "style", and--UGH!--microphone) was not the kind of Music I wanted to make.

I carried on as a writer and storyteller. As a writer, my talents were already pretty much acknowledged since childhood and even awarded at times. As a storyteller, I became pretty accomplished for an amateur, performing several times to a couple of hundreds of respectful and interested listeners. But something in me craved for the other medium.

I have always loved everything Celtic, even way before I knew they had this name, "Celtic". I love harp, bagpipes, fire bringing people together, memories from the Otherworld, as close as whatever we have behind our eyes. Celtic Music, especially Irish (which to me is the sexiest form of Music in this world), had an irresistible appeal to me. But, as I learnt over time, this type of Music you cannot learn from books and lessons. You need to share the spirit, the spirits, the hearth and the everyday joys and struggles to have it interwoven into your chromossomes like fine Irish lace or those uber-sensual Neocelt knotworks. I temporarily gave up on the Fiddle (but I'll surely come back to it).

When I moved to São Paulo, the vibrant and very fertile cultural life did me extreme good. Joining a choir on Tuesday nights was the trigger to a whole new world that now is slowly becoming the center of my life. I started taking private lessons with the choir's vocal coach, and then moving to Madrid two years later, where the atmosphere is even more appropriate, made me dive deeper into the world of Art Songs and Lieder.

The new path didn't come without its challenges: the radical and complete absence of Music in my upbringing brought me up as a sort of tone-deaf person. Fortunately, it's not the genetic trait that makes it actually impossible for a person to even enjoy listening to simple songs. I just needed patient coaches, dedication and a lot of practice with the keyboard, ear training softwares, new choirs and live music experiences so I could compensate for the lack of what should be the right of every person in this world.
Image: the Chartres labyrinth design on Edin Karamazov's lute.

Zap!

2008-05-22T11:23:00.000+02:00

...And the solo is mine!

Nobody said anything and the rehearsal went on. When it was time to sing the solo, I was there, ready, rough and able. With some punctual instructions from the director afterwards and a brief compliment, a cheering gesture from Carmen, and an appointment with the choir's vocal coach tomorrow evening, it's pretty clear I'm the Primo Uomo this time.

I'll bet the Blues are over for now. It's time for some Baroque!

The Dark

2008-05-21T21:00:00.002+02:00

I need urgent En-light-enment. For the past months, I've been growing more and more serious and stuck, to the point of shifting from a luminous person to a boring and grumbling not-by-choice hermit. I gained eighteen pounds/eight kilograms, lost my characteristic smirk and can't enjoy the company of people anymore.

I have been extremely self-demanding, unforgiving and obsessive with little routines, singing and the Lavender Society. My stuttering is out of control most of the times. Also, as usual with pathological seriousness and fake maturity, I am feeling leery and unable to concentrate.

I need advice. Or rather, the opposite of it, whatever it is.

Reaching Out

2008-05-19T01:09:00.001+02:00

Over the past year, in the many readings Diane has gifted me with the card World Tree of her Celtic divination set has appeared the most. The main meaning, at least for my readings, is healing, freeing and/or integration through Communication, and lately I've finally begun manifesting that.

After some good months of resistance, last Sunday I've given in to Seán's insistance of me joining Couchsurfing.com. I certainly won't travel anytime soon to a place where I don't already have a couch to surf, nor do I plan to play host to strangers at this point of my life, and frankly that is what was on my mind about that website. But after a weekend of sheer boredom and violent feelings of isolation, not to mention dullness in the Heroes game in Facebook.com, I signed up and made myself officially available for "coffee or drink" in Madrid.

On Thursday, Madrid's patron saint, San Isidro, had his party. Couchsurfing Madrileans (and those hanging around back then) organised a tortilla picnic in Pradera de San Isidro. It was really cool, totally my environment: a picnic with delicious vegetarian food, lots of subjects and languages, room to roam, music and no dogs. I had a great time.

Because the wheel had began to spin, last night I moved the boys of my gays yoga/meditation group to go watch a movie today. Francisco was raving about this Mexican gay-themed film "El Cielo Dividido" (maybe translatable as "The Riven Heaven"), which turned out to be a great experience. The story, very creatively told in an original screenplay made of repeated scenes and everchanging patterns, rose some very interesting questions and priceless, honest answers in the all-men's group, comprised of me, three boys of the yoga group and Seán (who I just felt like inviting). Francisco later on arrived and in a total twist of plot, we wound up in McDonald's. It was really cool, because not just I had time to process and digest the strong impact the film had on me before rationalizing and interferring with my own processes in a forced way, we also got to talk in a smoke-free environment, which I am very thankful for.

At some point, all of the guys left except for me and Francisco. The conversation then got really personal and in deep tones of confession. Francisco is older, very wise and full of compassion. A real gem to have as a friend. It is very easy to imagine how good it felt to drop the burden of secrecy, isolation and suffocation that I had been carrying. It had been a long while since I last had the time to talk about the topic in question, relationships, in a very personal theme and experience. Somewhat refreshing and very enlightening in many ways. And I really think I have proof of that already because I have checked my weight just now after my homecoming shower and I lost one kilogram. Ah, to see the Light.

For the Neocelts of our times, the World Tree usually means the ultimate crossroads, where everything and body meets beyond time and all choices are made. But one major however subtle quality of the World Tree is that it is organic, it grows ever on and out. It can go in many directions and very seldom in a straight line. Better not hold and direct it, just agree to climb the branches, concentrating on the choices when it splits.

The Race

2008-05-14T13:54:00.002+02:00

This race for the solo became even more interesting last night.

I did sing it in the church, with the organ accompanying me. Neither my voice nor my technique faltered, but because it was our very first rehearsal in locco, the organ was messed up and not yet configured and I couldn't really measure piano and forte in that brand new accoustic territory, totally unexplored for me. Also, in the last phrase, I lost the key and sang it a bit out of tune, which obviously had to do with the fact that I couldn't hear the organ from the altar. All in all, the rendition was less than perfect, as it was supposed to be, given it was my very first try.

After I sang, the director said he was really sorry, but we only had two weeks before the performance, so he thought it would be better for me "to rehearse for another time". I think I handled it pretty well, and just told myself I could survive this. Then he asked Monsieur Volontaire to do the solo. It was really obvious he didn't have studied the piece, and sang it even worse than me, even though he apparently has an enviable musical education and background, and plays some obscure historic instrument in a professional Baroque camerata. So, again the director said it was "less-than-good".

Then, he asked Carmen to do it one octave higher, in Soprano register. She did it, and frankly pretty well. She rocks. But because "Et Exultavit", the song with the solos, was written for first Soprano, then Alto, then Tenor, it sounded really odd to return to a soprano after the alto part. The director scratched his chin, then his bald scalp, then his chest, and said he was so sorry none of us did it well. Then he scratched his head again and told the three of us to study it really well at home, and then on the 29th, our last rehearsal, he would select one of the three to do it.

Carmen insisted with the director that I do it, that she would whisper very low the melody for me to sing it louder before the audience on the day. She's a big fan of Baroque music, especially Vivaldi, and is all anal about having everything done as the score demands. And the score says "Tenor solo", not "Soprano 2 solo", nor "Baritone solo". And she probably won't study because she wants me to do it at all costs.

The rest of the rehearsal was pretty good. By the end, our voices were adjusted to the space, and we sounded good enough as a choir. The only bad thing was the reek that exhaled from Monsieur Volontaire, who by disgrace is placed just next to me. He must have farting issues because most of the times he smells like he doesn't wipe his ass after pooping. Also, he is a terrible fellow singer as he doesn't respect the score, and because he can sightsing so well, he moves up and down through all the four voices (and sometimes hum the organ or the basso ostinato, too!), doing weird and unpredictable experimentations all the time, and making it hard for me to concentrate on the tenor part.

Then when the director paused to fix something with the altos. Monsieur Volontaire the Reeking Ogre poked me to say he thinks there shouldn't be a competition for the solo. I said it was all fine. Then he insisted and said he thought it was wrong. I smiled and said he should let the director know in case he doesn't want to candidate for the solo anymore, and I dropped the smile when I said I wouldn't give up on it, that I wanted to do this solo and that I was going to study and work for it. Then turned to the director and the rehearsal continued.

After the last round of the whole "Magnificat", we went to have some beer'n wine with tortilla, olives and meat somethings for the carnivores. Monsieur Volontaire held Carmen captive out of the bar, complaining about the "competition" all the time. Bad sport, bad smell, little patience, little flexibility, a colossal vanity. Something tells me his days in this choir won't be many.

Now, we're short of time to study and the race is on. Time's on my side, which means I have an advantage. I am a super-fast learner for Music, and I'm really keen and focused. And not afraid to lose.

Speaking of being moved by Will and choosing Love over Fear, I've decided I'm taking a Solfege course beginning next Autumn. I really miss a background in Musical Theory and I know I lose many great opportunities because of that. I'm really short of money, and no perspective of getting another job soon, but I'll leap, and the net will appear when I need it.

God Can

2008-05-12T12:38:00.001+02:00

Because I am approaching the little stream and it's time to jump, it's growing fast, and more and more it looks like the Grand Canyon of Doubt. So I have turned last night to my personal Book-I'd-Take-To-A-Desert-Island-With-Me. "Supplies", by Julia Cameron, because with that one, I just definetely cannot go without.

Within the last fourty minutes before going to bed of intense, familiar mining work, I digged lots of shit, realised and digged, among many disturbing things, my God Can. The original concept is "God Jar", but because a glass container looks too revealing, too frail and too unsettling, increasing anxiety and a feeling of vulnerability, I decided to have a metal version, opaque and flexible enough to bend, a conduit for heat, electricity and magic. This time, I picked one of the tea cans Jose has around the house. A blue one, with cranes, reeds, a full moon and stuff printed in Kanji, reminding me of most of The Guru's book covers.

A God Can (or Jar, or Bag, or Bin, or Folder, or Chest, or Drawer) is a sanctuary of incubation. It is basically a vessel for everything you can't (and therefore shouldn't) work out on your own, your larger-than-life aspirations, your anxieties and needs. It's the link between Fetch and Godself, conveying the intention and the prayer you send up with Manna when you align your Triple Soul. The God Can is like an altar in many ways, but it's way less ostensive or distracting, and brings in less work, opening up space for play.

The best thing about last night's night in is that I realised that over the past year I've recoiled and shrouded myself with an armour, closed and unavailable to many forms of help and blessing, and unable to let go of control. Probably due to wanting too bad to succeed here in Spain. And the real reason to own a God Can is to ditch all that craziness, reconnect ("religare") and live free.

Now, I'm it. No. "The miracle is one artist living with the other". So, tag. You're it.

Image: Captain Davy Jones having retrieved the chest with his heart.