In the mind’s eye…

Anything can be different if one looks at it from a different side. This is true especially if you think about explaining to others how you feel. Words will come out, so full of meaning, in your opinion, only to splat on the wall of misunderstanding like a wild splash of rainbow colors. Of course, you know what happens when all the colors mix… they turn to a muddy brown or gray, leaving you wondering if those fantastic colors ever came out of your mouth…

In the same way, what seems just dull to one, when the sun hits a certain way, can be the richest mirage to another… In the mind’s eye, the truth tends to be subjective, viewed through different glasses, never really allowing one to be certain that they have been understood.

But then, after weeks of internal torment, where every stone was turned, and every word and tone of voice was played, and replayed…when nothing matters anymore, since you can’t unsay what has been uttered… the sun shines a certain way in that someone’s eyes, and the message rings clear. And they understand. Except you’re clouded by your own doubts this time…so this chasing your tale game keeps on…

Until that day, that morning when all is still, your mind is busy with a thousand little things that must be ready by the end of the day, and here are these words, shot at you when you least expect it. Piercing through your heart. Leaving you breathless…

And the mind resumes its crazy carousel ride… trying to make sense where there is only feeling… running in the same circle, at the same speed, until, tired once again, it falls to the ground… only to be lifted again by the unsuspecting hand, and thrown back in the air… Maybe that’s what they call the circle of life… running around trying to catch your own tail, bite it, hurt, and start running after it again…

Whatever it is, it’s in the mind’s eye, so, maybe it’s there that something should change… or maybe it just needs better glasses…

It’s just a parade…

“Get your camera, the regatta starts in 15 minutes!” a half-breath squeak came from the office next to mine… “regatta, remember? We missed it by an hour last year! C’mon!”.

Usually, I don’t comply with commands if I don’t “get it”, but this time the thought of being out in the sunlight sparkled all over my brain. “oh, yeah! out breathing the salt. I can do that”. I grabbed my camera and ran.

The breeze ruffled my hair like a mother’s embrace, and in the cool, shimmering blue, they showed up. Bunched up together, like the floats of a puffed up dandelion.. wobbling on the waves, tiny at first, then bigger and bigger. The seawall was full of photographers, both amateurs and professionals, all trying to catch that one shot that will transform a simple picture in an animated message of greatness at sea. I aimed my camera and shot. From the depths of my soul, not from the tip of my gaze. No need for the perfect photo, just a memento of this moment, when time stopped and gave way to my feelings to go awry without any unwanted consequences!

I looked around at the people, all in awe of the beauty. I stepped on the jetty, among the crowd, trying to get closer. A gust of wind blew my hair undone, and made it float around me like in a fall.. Then time stood still. I heard the squeak near me, saying something I couldn’t understand. I moved to the edge. Took the “one picture I will ever want to take”. Couldn’t see a thing with my hair all over the place… Turned around, and walked away. Walking back on the seawall, I gathered my mane back into a pony tail. Squeak dragged me into the street, we managed to get to the middle without any cars running us over, and as we were contemplating running to the other side, a truck stopped, and gallantly offered us way. I bowed, and my hair came undone again…oh, well! The person waved and kept going.

Back in the office I dared look at the photos… not too bad. But then, again, it’s just a parade… that feeling will always fill me when I see them, but not the others…or maybe they’ll feel a little bit of breeze… that would be great!

Peekaboo

Yesterday I took 20 kids to an aquarium. I don’t have so many of my own. As a matter of fact I only have one, and even that one, by sheer luck! Or by divine intervention, as you may choose to see it. To me, it was the greatest gift! But that doesn’t stop me from appreciating other people’s gifts just as much as mine. I adopt. Easily. Not with papers, just with words and feelings. I seem to have plenty of both, and they need plenty of those, so, here you go! Best use for my super powers!

I took 2o kids to see penguins. They will create a video documentary that will play at the aquarium for the season. This is the first of, hopefully, many to come. But as we headed back, I looked at 20 kids who got more than just words, a field trip and lots of feelings. I saw them turning into giants! Soft, gentle, childish, powerful giants. And they were whole. And I felt complete.

There was a special penguin that helped build those spirits. Her name is Peekaboo. She looked helpless, staying close to her “mom”, one of the caretakers. She “seemed” helpless. She darted boldly toward one of my kids when she thought he was a threat to her brood… very similar to my kids, standing around me, tall, strong, and ready… and yet, so small, quiet, and fluttering with uncertainty. Real peekaboos… now you see them, now you don’t… but you just know in your heart of hearts that their strength is there… the humanity in the making! And, so, life makes sense again, and hope starts growing, shyly, tentative, and reaching for the warmth of the good news…

I don’t wanna grow up..

It may just be normal to do this, but I woke up one morning, maybe it was last week, and I looked in the mirror for the first time in weeks. Mind you, I do look, but it seems that I did not really see anything… ’till then. There was a haunted look  in those eyes staring back at me… and it was not just the shamelessly early morning red eyed look… it made me think of some deer trapped in the middle of the highway, with a huge truck coming right at it…

The first reaction of any person is to look again. But I did not want to. It was too scary. And I know how these things go; you start questioning the symptoms and you end up finding up you have cancer… No. Better off not stirring anything up. Not at that obscene hour anyway. So I just washed my face and put some makeup on to hide the stare. And felt better. For a little while.

But the next morning, the same hurt and scared deer looked back at me. Without words, but screaming for help so loudly, it almost pierced my eardrums… It made me angry. You don’t just pop into somebody’s morning like that! It’s rude! I splashed the water on that stupid face and didn’t even bother with the makeup. Didn’t want to look at it anymore…

But laying in bed that night, I remembered it again. I didn’t want to stir, but I am such a cat…need to know… what doesn’t kill me will make me stronger, right? Or give me cancer. One or the other, but at least I’d know what to expect. I tried poking at the past and at who I used to be in all my past lives, and many things seemed so extraordinary, that it didn’t even feel like I did all that. And then the present snuck up on me, with little glimpses of the recent twists and twirls of circumstances. The diagnosis was there, or so it seemed. It was not cancer, but I had to cut my brain. Loose. It turns out I am not made of the quiet stuff that keeps women in the kitchen forever with the 50′s poster smile on their face… and it was time to build that universe I had once dreamed… or at least solve that last puzzle I kept putting away. It was definitely time for something, but I postponed that decision ’till the morning, it was going to come soon anyway. At 4:00 a.m. I opened my eyes, wide awake. I don’t remember dreaming, but I do remember those eyes staring at me. The fear was not fear anymore, it was just a call of disbelief… and my heart shrunk.

I grow up in stages, it seems…and this maturing thing is giving me terrible growing pains… and I thought I knew what I want to be when I grow up, but it looks like that job does not exist yet… so I am left with either creating it, or just waiting… Hell! I’m not good at waiting! But I don’t wanna grow up either…so maybe if I sleep better at night, a nicer person will look at me in the morning, and all this growing and figuring out will not need to happen… Or maybe I will wake up all grown up…but that will mean to miss out on my own greatest years, and that would not be cool either… Life is so complicated! When can we take a break?

in your dreams…

A gypsy took my hand once, I didn’t want to know what she saw, but she grabbed it, and words came out…they didn’t make sense at the time. In a life that doesn’t exist anymore, a gypsy told me my future… “there will be a lot of travel, child,” she said, “and lots of talking. Your words will be honey, and your aura will attract many, and you will open paths for them, and close doors for yourself. You have the power to build a universe! Don’t waste it!”…

Ha! Sure.. and I shall be king!.. all is true, right? We all have the power to be all we dream we could be… But, boy, was she right about the travel…and about the words…and about the doors… I have not build a universe yet, but, then again, I’ve only gone so far… there’s still a little time ahead, if all goes well. Funny how we remember such things… locked in our memory, ready to come out.. uncalled, weightless, unimportant, but coming to rebuild the fortress of our self-esteem. With tiny pieces of our own selves, and twisted words of others… it’s called interpretation, taking random, rigid sentences, and turning them into verses that sing to hearts and spirits… blessed be those who have the gift to interpret their own universe, for theirs will be the future… for the restless and inquisitive  mind, heaven is dreaming up a memory you never knew you had, that takes you back to that time in life when shelter was not deemed necessary, and there was no scare that a mother’s touch couldn’t ease… and in your dreams, you built a universe, yours alone, filled with delight, and the little things that you once knew… and then you started to grow, and the little things were forgotten, but never erased.

May you find your dreams soon. The simple and true. And may the lighten up your universe… ’till then, you can join me and mine… I’ll just need to find the honey, and paint my aura bright… but if it makes you happy, it will make me happy, too!

Oh! and…

Moon howling and other nocturnal fun

Every once in a while the universe sends out a stand-by signal, stopping everything in its tracks, slowing down the life rhythms, and giving the human beings a mandatory pause… It is not a synchronized event, not all in the same time get to flop to the ground in complete inertia, and that can cause confusion and frustration in those not touched by the bug…

But as it is a mandatory shortcut, it cannot be helped by the poor human struck by it… what is left to do is just open one’s arms, and let oneself go… suspended in the antigravity, with no feeling of remorse, floating where the winds want, like  a ripe summer’s leaf in the warm autumn sun… slowly swaying in the breeze, landing on the still waters, floating quietly toward forever…

They say the best relaxation happens when the mind is free… And when the mind cannot break free by itself, sometimes it gets a nudge from its own sanity self timer, and it shuts down, allowing for the healing to take place. Make no mistake, it’s not a renewal process! It’s just being put under, while the wounds turn to scars… it’s just life surgery with great anesthetic…

And in the soothing surrender, eyes start seeing beyond the horizon, finding images unthought of. Funny thing imponderability… allowing one to fly so high with such little risk of falling… and then spirits soar, and the sun shines again… and the wounds dry up a bit, and scars are ready to form. It’s then that howling at the moon can start, and not the wailing kind, but the happy to be alive once more kinda’ ones… And one can look at the scars with less pain, and look at the future with a twinkle in the eye… Here’s to moon howling! Oh, and other nocturnal fun!

Stuff the stars are made of

An upcoming presentation got me thinking about my previous yapping about stuff I find fun and productive… Just like any other human being, getting through to others, with a clear and easy to follow message, is important for me, and a lot of time goes into the approach, almost as much as into the presentation content. It’s important for my self esteem, I guess…But it also makes me feel like I left those people, who come to spend that time with me, despite their busy schedules or daily troubles, with something that will help them make their own life easier, grow them, or simply get them thinking. So, in the end it all comes down to what I passed on…

To reach a group, as any teacher will tell you, you have to know the basics. What types of people you have in your group. The best way to speak to anyone, with a good chance for them to understand you, is in their language. Of course, you can try talking with pictures and your hands, but I’m not sure there’s research behind this technique, though…But identifying the types of audience one expects, is the first thing to do. And this is what got me thinking…yes, again.

Take the stars, for example. Myriads of little twinkles with the naked eye, turn into the most amazingly different planets, with a life of their own, and with surviving mechanisms that blow your mind… To follow that example, take the star as we know it. A plain cookie cutter style. Looking at the crowd in the sub station will feel the same as looking at a stack of these darlings… Two legs and two arms, one head with two eyes and a mouth. You know, the basics. If you’ve been in one of these stations, you know there’s no real time to see detail.

But once you board the subway, hanging by one hand like a baboon, cramped between other bodies, you get various reasons to look around with more interest. Like the scent of body heat in the summer, oozing from under the arm hanging right on top of your head. As you look at the particular star, you see the stuff it’s made of… no, not the hairy stuff, but the fire inside, the hot mess that defines them, the flamboyance of youth, the righteousness of the truth they think they possess, the credulity, the sparks, the firm belief that they will rule the world….what is more beautiful that a colorful, explosive Mars? So what if you can’t stand near it…it is amazing to look at and explore!

A bump on your, already squished, side makes you turn your head again to see what’s going on. And another star unravels…in the elusive mass, covered in soft colors, you start noticing a so familiar shape…there’s a little star, right in the middle, camouflaged, not wanting to reveal itself to any common eye, but ready to shine its best light for the trained and willful one. A little song comes to mind…”that little light of mine..” and your heart warms up…what sweeter feeling can one have?

The train halts, sending the bodies forward and backward, on top of each other. Your eyes fall on the person to your right. You didn’t see him before the jerk; your arm, holding the top rail, was in the way. What an amazing creature. So many lines on his face! Such deep eyes, so much sadness in them…You whisper an apology to him, like in a trance, and a nodding smile lights up his face: “no worries”…and just like that, the intricate patterns of this star make you want to know more, where has it been, what does it know, how does it still keep its amazing design so rich? Your memory goes back to fourth grade, that field trip to that gallery, that painting that marked you for life…and your brain floods you with your own personal “best hits”…what can be more  revering than a star that can give you back your youth?

Your station is fast approaching and you make your way to the door, squeezing through the mass…you look towards the coming station, and your eyes meet a glowing pair. Your gazes are stuck together for a fraction of second, like two electric beams feeding off each other…then, to wake you up from the dream, the train stops abruptly, sending you straight into the door with a thud! It was just a blink, and you could not even describe the person whose eyes you locked gaze with…but the spark they gave to your imagination, daring you to dream of supernatural powers, fairy tales, and lost worlds…unspeakable…what can be more empowering than a star that dares you to dream?

The doors open and you are carried out by the sea of travelers. This short experience has given you such appetite to learn more… you look around at the crowd. They all move just as fast, together, shoulder to shoulder, like an ant troop…but being in their midst, in the corner of your eye, you can catch the quick differences that set each individual appart. Some are stripped with bold colors, some are just fuzzy all around, some are half covered in soft and sweet delights, and some are primed, just ready to receive more and more spices from life…

And it makes you think about the stuff the stars are really made of…it’s sweet, and crunchy, and sometimes spiky, and it sometimes breaks your teeth if you’re not careful and bite into one of the artificial decorations meant to impress the novice, but most of all, the base is so much the same…soft and crumbly…so be careful how you hold them…they break so easily…

Captive orchids

It’s amazing what colors nature puts on to make the world we happen to inhabit appealing…Walking along the trail in the simulated paradise I couldn’t help but notice that lots of eyes were not stuck to the breathtaking colors…but to their earthly, but human, counterparts…not colorful in their own, but nonetheless, appealing to them…must have been the shapes.

In the serenity of it all, being so close to the orchids, I tried to sniff their famous sent. The colors were tearing my artistic soul apart! I had to match, in my egoism, their visual attraction, with its olfactive equivalent…I found a moment when no eyes were prying, and got closer, closer, I could touch the thick, lush, spotted masterpiece! No hands drew near, though, the sign is clear “do not touch!”. I comply with reasonable requests. Usually…I took a deep breath, and another, filling my lungs with the…plain, humid, slightly mossy air…I opened my eyes…It cannot be! No scent? I tried another one. Another one. One more! The beautiful creatures were staring their colors back at me, silent, still, unwilling to please…

“They’re captive, that’s why the scent is less accentuated” someone said behind me. “They will adapt to the habitat, but gradually lose their scent by the second year in captivity”. Captivity? Habitat? How do they even know? A flash of not so recent memories struck me. And I understood. We all adapt. We don’t even know how much we comply with our newly, well provided, extremely well mimicked habitats…until that day when a perfect stranger looks at us and says “You have no scent, I’m afraid”…

I don’t know if nature lets captive flora regain its full attributes, but I sure hope the dormancy of our restrain, once disturbed, will not have wiped out our revival skills…At least I hope my scent is not dead…just bottled up until it can be free to enchant, without the fear it might be overpowering…’Till that day, in the silence of the grove, sleep my soul, sleep…it’s not yet time to bloom again…

 

Now that’s a boat!

I just came back from the last travel for this school year. It’s my favorite event, ISTE, and I got a lot of learning done! I came back to a little boat and a small, loving family, and to my own bed, where I could finally sleep to my heart’s content.

But life in other parts of the galaxy is quite different… bigger things, more entertainment, lots of people to interact with, and lots to learn about interacting with people…there are strict rules, you see, and when broken or disregarded, they come back to bite you in the back…

Among other interesting stuff, I saw a yacht. I thought, “hmm, I’d love to see what life on a yacht is like”…but then two plastic dolls, covered in plaid and pastels, emerged on the deck, together with this really tired looking man in his winter years… they looked so bored… I had to imagine there must be real people out there enjoying these beauties, people who are not bored of their own existence, or too stuck in their own societal ladder that can’t enjoy the simple things, like laughter, for fear they would disobey the “rules”.

To conclude the debate, a friend expressed pretty much what I was thinking… “I wouldn’t know what to do with it, but it would sure be nice to have it, just for those few times when I feel like hitting the horizons…” Couldn’t agree more. And that helicopter could come in handy if I would feel like the horizon is a little too open and I need some ground under my feet…but maybe that’s not why it’s there…I wouldn’t know anyway…I’m simple folk…

the best things in life are free

I think I found the “perfect weather”. Brisk, but not cold, sunny, and yet not hot, with a clean breeze and lots of fresh air… Along with the perfect weather came a sum of other new things…like free lovin’…no, not the flower power one… the power play one.

I was crossing a street today, along with a thousand others, trying to understand what the person on the phone was saying, concentrated on the podcasted newsflash, and hoping to get a word in the conversation…the light changed, and the mass of people moved, dragging me along… and in the middle of it all, a bullhorn pierced the hum of the thousand voices talking at once: “I love you!”..

Those words, no matter how many times one hears them, will always make a strong impact…I looked up. “Free hugs! Don’t leave me here hugless!” A group of college students were handing out their love for teachers. And hugs. And little notes like this.

And, once again, the perfect weather must have had something to do with how I looked at things…’cause all seemed so small again, and the best things were there to just enjoy. And life became so simple again! I love simplicity! Gives you such a break!