and it hurts

freedom

She let go.

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of the fear.

She let go of the judgments.

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.

She let go of the committee of indecision within her.

She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons.

Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice.

She didn’t read a book on how to let go.

She didn’t search the scriptures.

She just let go.

She let go of all of the memories that held her back.

She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go.

She didn’t journal about it.

She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer.

She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper.

She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.

She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go.

She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.

She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment.

She didn’t call the prayer line.

She didn’t utter one word.

She just let go.

No one was around when it happened.

There was no applause or congratulations.

No one thanked her or praised her.

No one noticed a thing.

Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort.

There was no struggle.

It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad.

It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face.

A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore…

- Rev Safire Rose

Ecstasy of Saint Theresa

   Bach - Ave Maria 

She is lost for a long time with this song. She has her head stuck in the middle of her headphones and her body is buried in pillows. The amazing sound is foraying into her head and is pumping her eyes to other world.

When she closes her eyes she is nowhere. She has no body. She is a soul sailing up in the air which smells as vanishing.

The little particles of her soul are flying above the green grass, above her grave. She is free now. She is not fighting anymore against to the strong wind, because she is part of it, now.

The storm became a dance between all the invisible particles – and the dance is such gracious that nobody is allowed to see this magnificent and sickness play.

She used to hold in her hand a long spear of gold and in the iron’s point you could see a little fire.

When he appeared thrusting his spear into her to pierce her entrails the pain was so great, that it made she moaned and it was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that she could not give up.

The pain is not bodily, but spiritual – although the body has its share in it.

The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than drawings of death.

She has just opened her eyes. Her heart is riding quite fast. She is exhausted.

She prays to God to make Him believe, because you may think that I am lying. 

blood flows

Forget all about the motivational sentences. Forget them for your own good, because when the time comes to you, you mustn't fail. Why? Clear as water. You can't flop once again. You don't have strong motives for that. Your life is so simple and perfect. You have everything you need. Even when you don't know who you are, your motives are poor and weak. Everything around you are full of love, of joy and bliss.

You have been thinking about it for years. Everyday, every minute that you live you find out something that could result in a definitive way.

There is something inside that you can't control. It's heavy and black, but I quite like black! So I don't know if I'm here because I enjoy this moments of death or whether I'm here because I must fight. However, against what, who or why?

I'm tired of this shit. I tired of all the darkness and love. I'm exhausted of trying to be something that I am not. I must be strong once in life and give up with dignity and courage. My decision was made. No one is guilty unless myself.  

spider web

For a long time I've been thinking about it. Since I was 14 years old I knew how I would end up. It was always like this, a hole or something heavy inside pushing me against the wall and a sword pointed at my chest.

I don't have any tears to cry, I don't have a strong fear to keep me at.

I've started planning.

"Nothing thicker than a knife's blade separates happiness from melancholy." 

— Virginia Woolf, in Orlando

OUR HANDS by Dora, Margarita, Sophie, Penélope & Valerie

embrace

Valerie - How do you deal with it?

Margarita - I often think what I do is kind of stupid… It is beyond my control, I can only control a part of it… I think it is Ok. It is a play. Nothing is ever complete, it has to be approved or received by others.

Valerie - And if it is, that is Ok?

Margarita - Of course. You accept it.

Ode to my Hands

A hand is not only four fingers and a thumb

Nor only a palm and knuckles or tendons

A hand is not only a bunch of lines and dramas

Nor only what it has written

Grinning, as only hands can grin
Impossible feelings - dimensions, possibilities
Without feelings. Think of it! Yes, No…
Let my brain! Make my veins and my tiny muscles
To thank you - my two angry sisters

Teach a sluggish about an unreasonable world

side effect

Everyday when I open my eyes I wish I haven't to.
I commit suicide everyday and everyday I survive because I am strong.
I am strong. Doesn't it sound fascinating? I dunno, but I want to believe it does.
I've just got one foot in the grave.
I am a blur of emotions. Panic, nervous, angry, sad... Not a good measure to take.
My fears are keeping me alive. I'm going around with my eyes opened - looking for what? My body, my legs work perfectly – one behind another and sometimes I don't feel anything at all.
When I'm drinking coffee and smoking these are the only real happy times.
My moments of death – I call them – and these nice cuts are just beautiful. I do them when, for some reason, I intend to be alive or feel something more painful than the sorrow inside.