Eternal of one second

You have to see beyond what the eyes capture. You have to cross bridges. You have to get out of place, if only with your imagination. You have to stand up, no matter what happens. You have to be different from what you once were. To live.

She was sitting, still, motionless, not knowing for sure why she was there, in that place, among strangers. He arrived and walked straight to where she was. They had never seen each other before.  They stood face to face, he looked at her and she looked back. Everything lasted only a few seconds, but it was eternal. They never met again, they belonged to very different worlds. Yet she never forgot him. He, on the other hand, put her in some secret compartment of his brain. From time to time, he visits the secret box, not knowing exactly what's stored there.

In the middle of the way was a stone. There was a stone in the middle of the way. The first step is to identify the stone, without the recognition of its existence, it is impossible to go further. The truth is, we often have more than one stone obliterating our passage. I have so many that sometimes I think their mere recognition will get me nowhere. I need a digger to clear my way. I have the feeling that I am clearing my way with tweezers, so I am stuck. But who am I to say anything? Who am I? Who are you?

Many times in my life I have had the opportunity to realize that wishful thinking, when done lightly and without any pretension, quickly becomes reality. Why does this happen? I remember once, in college, my street was being tidied up, the asphalt had been removed from part of the street, so I thought: It would be nice if they removed the asphalt from the whole street and stopped traffic (I don't know why I thought that). The other day in the morning, no car could enter the street. Two days ago I thought: it would be nice if it was sunny and rainy while I was running in the park. I was running in the park and the sun was shining and the rain was wetting my hair.  It would be nice if I could unexpectedly get a better house to move into, a house with a view. It would be nice if I got money unexpectedly, so I could finish my new book. It would be nice if Covid-19's vaccine was discovered soon. It would be nice if I could get rid of my fears. It would be nice if I could find out...

Life has its own course. It does not ask us about our desires and motivations, if it is a good time, if we can or cannot do what we are obliged to do. Today I am afraid. I was not asked whether or not it was a good time to start feeling pain. Everything was fine, and then something happened to make you move out of place. Today it's me, tomorrow it's you, it doesn't matter. The universe keeps moving in a constant dance. *Image of Alexas

Besides writing here, I have another secret. My husband doesn't like books in their physical versions. According to him, books fill the house and we are living in a very small apartment, but the truth is I can't help it. Every time I take a book in my hand, I feel that it is more than an object, I feel love and friendship for it, so I start buying books hidden from him. At the moment, I am researching about memory and I have already bought 3 books on this subject. Since everything is closed, I buy the books from Amazon and then I keep praying that he won't find out. So far it's worked out. I want to see where I'm going with this. Little secrets of everyday life. *Dariuz Sankowski image

I write every morning as an exercise of imagination, I always write the first sentences that come to my mind. I try to hold on to the images, but they get lost in the flow of my mind. It is as if my body were at the mercy of the swing of the sea, so are the images, the ideas that arise and, just as I cannot control the tide, I also have no control over what I write. Does it make sense? The house is silent, everyone is asleep. Today the sun is shining, yesterday the day was grey. It's still too early, but my mind is already alert. I wonder how much longer it'll stay like this...

To live is to understand more than we supposed to exist. To understand is to perceive with the physical body and not with the mind. The magic of existence comprehends life, but it is more than that, it is the unimaginable, the absence of time and space, it is the being that inhabits me and also the sky under my head. I try to see beyond myself and on the other side there is the unknown. One day I'll reach it. One day.

A long time ago, I used to visit a museum in the city where I lived. The museum had in its exhibition a painting that I loved, called "Ventania" (windstorm), by an artist named Antônio Parreiras. Every time I felt bad, depressed, anxious, I would go to the museum and spend some time looking at that painting. I went there many, many times, because my life was a chaos back then. Yesterday while running in the park, I realized how unusual life is, it was windy and I remembered "Ventania" and that it was strange that I had come to live in a country where the wind is so strong. While I was running, the wind knocked down a branch of a tree and this beautiful flower fell from there. I kept thinking about the coincidences that life brings us, sometimes they are instantaneous, but other times they happen long, long after. Like now, with me. 

Yesterday I saw a beautiful drawing notebook in the supermarket. I remembered my own notebook, which I had to leave in Brazil. What to do with the feeling of things we left behind? Do I buy another notebook? Did my poor drawing ability stand the test of time? I don't know. I don't know anything. *Image of Monoar Rahman Rony

It's time to focus and get started. It's time to be myself. It's time to leave behind fear and do what I really like. But then, the hours pass and the cleaning of the house, the exercising and caring for the son and hiding the secrets get in the way. The day goes by and I miss it once again. One more day. The same. *Image of  Nicola Giordano

Some days were made to eat strawberries. Sunny days, hot. I prepare a picnic basket full of strawberries and take it to the park. I don't have to do anything today, just eat strawberries. My basket is full of that little red, juicy fruit. Yesterday it was gray, today it's red. In the midst of chaos, I'm learning to create little bubbles of illusion that keep me alive. *Image of Pexels

The bell rings It's life wanting in I don't pay attention I pretend not to listen But then, The noise continues It calls for silence And in it I can finally listen What my Being Wanted so hard to tell me. *Image of analogicus

I've been dreaming about Bast for two days. She wants to tell me something. I must pay attention. I feel her energy. I'm sure when I leave home today, I'll find some cat on the street. Sometimes the energy is so strong that it materializes in our lives. This is the case.

Sometimes I think my function in life is to go beyond myself, to go beyond what I am destined for. Is that possible? Why can't I ever answer the questions that come to my mind? The day is grey today. Most days are grey in Ireland. The day is grey and I'm still here. I'm alive. What does it mean to be alive? Again, I don't know the answer.I don't know the answer and I'm here. That's all.

Sometimes I feel there's a wild, uncontrollable animal in me. It has no direction, it acts by instinct, its only function is to survive. Rarely in life have I allowed him to let go, and these few times it could finally feel the taste for freedom. I am not free, but the animal is. It can run and be. If only I could also.

I need a moment, of silence, of immobility. I need a moment, to think, to get me back on my feet. The moment is sudden and in it, I am whole, I am myself at last. The moment calls for audacity, the courage of the suffocated soul. One day, just yesterday, fate set me free. The moment is never lost, it reveals itself in my body, in the non-stop motion from my chest, on my breath. Perfection is in me, I can see it and feel it, but I still can't go beyond the senses. Still. The day will come, that life will simply be my favorite orthographic sign: reticence...

I don't know who I am. I don't know who you are. I don't know what should I do. I don't know how to begin. I don't know how to dodge the stones. I don't even know if that's the right way. But, in spite of everything, I'm still going, because there's nothing else to do.

The first thing I do every morning is write. I have to write, otherwise I don't know myself. I have to write, to try to reach you. I have to write to understand the unknown. I'm not sure where I'll be led with this behaviour and, frankly, I don't care much. I will continue. I will persist. One day.

I know little things Trivial things. They are so little that I have To write them down, So I know they exist. Little things, Small pieces of jewel Made of glass. And I have to say: I collect them. They are my most Beloved possessions. You see? They are not really mine And yet, They are. You and your voice. The things you say. The lines that I write and read. The wind that messes up my hair. My prayers to the unknown And the hope that I carry inside. 

I dreamed about a dragon today. He was fierce, but I wasn't afraid. Dragons are symbols of protection, inspiration and, above all, change. As long as it's a good change... I hope he visits me more often, maybe I can invite him? I have few friends and, here in Ireland, none. I really need this dragon.

How far should we reveal our secrets to others? How far should we reveal ourselves to others? I have no idea. I can't answer the questions I ask myself. But I have discovered that in life, we must reveal our secrets to ourselves. Sounds simple, but it's not. Looking in the mirror without masks is difficult, but it is necessary. The one who writes, is the one who tries. 

one way or another, I'd like to meet you. for me and for you, come out of the dark and, above all, see your face in the darkness. one way or another, I'd like to leave behind the illusion, live life without lenses and see the real thing for what it really is, unafraid of disappointment which is inevitable. always. one way or another, I'd like to follow in your footsteps, because that's the only way to express pain and love. at the same time.

Every day, the same day and me here. In the middle. Everything is simple and complicated. At the same time. Do you exist or not? It depends on the day. That's life. A beginning without end. I wish I could see the future happen. But sometimes I'm struck by blindness and it's impossible to see anything. Like right now. I woke up scared and with a headache. And the future is right there, I can almost touch it. But I can't. Not yet. I'm still here in the present, which at the moment is hell. The time arrested me. I'm locked up in myself. My house has no windows. I'm in the dark. I scream for help, but my voice won't come out. I can only feel. The light is right there.

I keep thinking about what to do in the middle of the world that stopped spinning. I want to move, I want to get out of place, yet I'm still here, I'm still myself. But if even a flower can be born in the middle of the concrete, why not me? I have secrets I can't tell anyone, so I invented this space. Who's gonna find me here? Today I decided to take a step into the unknown. Who knows where it will lead me?

I need to know there's something illuminating my path, otherwise I'd be in the dark. There is a light that leads me, even if I don't see it completely. Even if I don't know who you are, I know you're by my side. Even though I cannot touch you, I can smell you. Even if you're too far away, you're by my side. The light shows me what I don't know, but what I feel.

Sometimes I have no idea what to write. I just sit here and let the words come out. They always do. I imagine that chance is a fundamental component of human life, but we almost always leave it out of our lives, of our "planning". It shouldn't be like this. Things are a little confusing for me at the moment. I want to get out of place, I want to move, but I'm stuck, at least that's what I think. So I raise my arms and let chance guide me. I know it will take me somewhere, and anywhere is better than where I am.

I keep thinking I'm doing something wrong. If life is movement, what am I doing standing in the same place? I know that inside me there is someone else, someone who wants to move, that must be why I like to run so much, I have the feeling that I'm fulfilling my role. I remember a teacher who once told me, we are alive and our job is to open doors, it's been a while since I stopped opening doors. I have to keep going. I have to go on. Getting out of place is the essence of life.

I have been researching synchronicity phenomena for a long time, but only today when I woke up I noticed that they have a component that transcends what we call real. Is it possible that we can foresee the future using synchronicity? I do not know. I don't know many things. But I will find out. I'm gonna find out, and then I'm gonna write in here.

Light has become my favorite subject of the last few days. I am bathed by it every morning, it illuminates my darkest aspects, it lets me see where my worst defects are. Without the light there would be no life on earth. Perhaps someday it will be so resplendent that we can see and discover all that is hidden in us and in the world around us. Perhaps one day there will be no more secrets just because of the light.