Explorando amor ...

Mesmerizada por tus líneas de risa,
Tu topografia
Absorbo con placer y sin prisa.

Con cada gesto me invitas
A conocer a tu paleta de luz y sombra,

Con sus matices infinitas. 

No hay ni fin ni inicio -
Crear términos, rutas, hitos

Es un artificio.

Tu toque en el momento me atteriza.

Como el océano cálido

Con gentileza me tranquiliza.

Podemos caminar juntos,
Recibir y explorar el mundo,

Puedo ofrecerte un amor sin fondo.

Podemos caminar solos,
Podemos tener la vida
Con la infinidad de tonos.

La alegría de vivir con su potencia
Me permite sentir a cada frequência.
Multiplica mi fuerza,

Aumenta la sensación
De la abrumadora riqueza
De la existencia.

Soy un viajero feliz en mi presente
Y esta tierra exuberante, nueva

Exploro con la entrega inocente. 

Explorando amor

Mesmerizada por tus líneas de risa,
Tu topografia
Absorbo con placer y sin prisa.

Con cada gesto me invitas
A conocer a tu paleta de luz y sombra,

Con sus matices infinitas. 

No hay ni fin ni inicio -
Crear términos, rutas, hitos, expectativas

Es un artificio.

Tu toque me tranquiliza.

Me envuelve en un océano cálido.

En el momento me atteriza
Con un abrazo plácido.

Podemos caminar juntos,
Recibir y explorar el mundo,

Puedo ofrecerte un amor sin fondo.

Podemos caminar solos,
Podemos tener la vida
Con cualquieres tonos.

La libertad de elegir,
De creer, crear,
De abrir o cerrar
Es la realidad de estar. 

La alegría de vivir con su potencia
Me permite sentir a cada frequência.
Multiplica mi fuerza,

Aumenta la sensación
De la abrumadora riqueza
De la existencia.

Soy un viajero feliz en mi presente
Y esta tierra exuberante, nueva

Exploro con la entrega inocente. 

El viejo reflejo

Nunca estoy molesta contigo.
Porque?
Sería como estar molesta por una imagen
De un amigo.
De mi misma. Una imagen que se desvaneció,
Una foto antigua.

La reconozco bien.
Todas las características son mías.
Los ojos traviesos sonríen
Pero la esencia ha cambiado
Hace años, no días.

Tanto que mirar a esta imagen
Ahora me deja perpleja.
Las indiscreciones libres, salvajes
Mi pasado destaca.

La consumidora necesidad de sentir,
Destrairse, tocar y conquistar.
Las palabras que dejaba salir
Llenas de significado que tanto queria criar
Y que con mis acciones me permitía borrar.

Como tus palabras que salen de tí
Por tu boca o por escrito.
Parece tan bonito el mito
De intensidad de sentimiento...
Luego tus acciones por completo
Lo hacen obsoleto.

Me reconozco en tí.
Por isto nunca estoy molesta contigo.
Aprendo de mi, de mi pasado.
No tengo ni amigo ni enemigo
En esta imágen.
Solo el aprendizaje con el cual me obligo.

Ya no estoy esta imágen.
Busco la unión auténtica
De la palabra y la acción poética.

Sharing

Sharing is an art. It, like art, requires certain recklessness,

Boldness, a fearless sprint off the cliff.

We go on dates, we talk to others on the street,

We smile and nod, and utter words, as if

They matter. What we want

Is to expose a little bit of our soul.

But we don’t know to whom. So we fill the air

With words. To make us whole.

We want to share.

But what we do instead is produce little puffs of air,

To fill the spaces in between us.

Temporary daze, like a glass of rich red wine.

We jog, we work, we shop, we dine,

We do things in a crowd because it feels better

Than being alone. We wish for the divine.

Sometimes we stop and wonder why,

Sometimes we do something and try

To change the habit of getting nowhere,

Of pushing air between each other,

And say something to make it easier to bear

Our loneliness and fear

Of being eternally forlorn, afraid to love,

Afraid to feel, not capable to open to the possibility

Of being hurt, of playing the roulette,

Of taking the chance to avoid sterility

Of daily interactions, and having something,

Someone or someones that make us set

Upon letting go, letting things flow,

Allowing them in, and letting ourselves share.

Our pain, our joy, our less-than-bright moments,

Trust just enough to relax, stop being aware
Of every thought, judgement and care.
To feel, all to the brim - to dare.

Read me

My skin is hungry for touch,

Slow, deliberate, thoughtful

Fingers running over the smoothness,

Over the birthmarks, over each crease.

Study me, like a traveler unfolding a map

Tracing the paths to the destinations

Unknown. Inspire yourself in the details,
The journey has no end...

Feel the heat - my body still,
anticipating with a breathless tremble

Your fingers fluttering, brushing over me,

Reading me like Braille.

Rewire for fulfillment

 The first pages of "Wired to Create" are already a permission to be myself. A dissection of a Canadian rapper that I've never heard of (not surprising, since the world has an overwhelming number of successful and inspiring people, and sometimes I choose simply to ignore that to avoid feeling the pressure of tardy self-realization) gave me a warm feeling of instant assurance of what I've been struggling to understand, analyze and accept in myself for years. He is a happy example of contradictions of personality, loner and attention whore, fond of flings while strongly capable to long-term relationships, etc. People like that exist. They are not unicorns.

There is a tribe. The tribe where some are more adapted to embrace what they are without judgement, immersing themselves in whatever process they choose to, thus unequivocally arriving to results, practicing like a religion self-realization. Others try to fight, adjust, blend in, question endlessly - to become hopelessly frustrated and start losing the light that their opposing forces spark in them.

I am not alone. This simple confirmation found on a pages of a book brings tears to my eyes. Tears of gratitude and relief. A permission to be myself - plentifully contradictory and gloriously inspired.
I am seemingly unproductive sets of oxymoron - the more I tried to make sense and compartmentalize, the less constructive it became. The more anxious and guilty I felt to be inefficiently multifaceted, adamantly and at times fleetingly interested in everything,

I am the whole spectrum. Instead of forcing Big Radical Clarities that are supposed to shine on my path, I accept my Small Unsettled Clarities, however temporary and temperamental they may be. Like rambunctious children that I care for deeply, I round them up and hug them tightly.

This year, I've been extremely fond of the idea of experimenting things for 1 month. It is a perfect combination of freedom and direction. I choose to accept myself fully and gently, for one month. Stop requiring answers, unwavering resolutions and definitions. Give the analytical, ruthlessly disciplinary brain a break, and channel all that energy in playfulness, joy and exploration. I choose not to judge my unprocessed process.

Amazing things happen when we admit to what we are. Amazing things happen when we find that we're not alone.

Believe

look at people
study them
observe

freckles, wrinkles, grey hairs
carefully combed or painted
makeup, layers of it,
whether it's Loreal or thick masks
of pilled on smiles and glazed eyes

look through it,
stare daringly,
until something appears beyond the transformations
applied to ourselves

something may appear,
but don't count on it

look, until the other cannot and does not blink away
until something appears
until the eye's engaged,
beyond it something timid,
timid and naked

No more safety of blinking away,
a connection,
no more blinking disguises

connection is made
is it made?
you question it, question yourself and the other

fleeting
you feel it, fully, and it's gone
so you pragmatically asign it
to imagination

it's gone, after a day or a year,
but it is
why?
you mourn it,
you kick and scream like a temperamental child
or hide away, shutting everything out

and when it's done, gone,
so completely that you wonder
about your judgement

when it's gone
believe
there it was there
truly and really
for some time it was there,
time is irrelevant

believe in it
like a child in Santa Claus

undoubting, unwavering faith
that something is real,
was or is -
the tense is irrelevant,
like wordplay

doesn't change a thing

no analysis, no judgement, no second thought
let it run through you, whatever moment
you may have felt,
wash you free of cinicism
and of the fear
of being naive

no one is here to judge you for that
no one in the world cares

how you are, what and why you are
no one has the time to

so admit it, that you like being hopeful to a folly
and blissfully blind
that you will persist
and believe each time
you feel something