The struggle of being present in the now and in the self.

There are so many lifes to be lived. There are so many rules to be followed. So many of which could be broken. There are so many scenarios to be acted out. So many settings to be arranged. So many conversations to be had. There are so many ways in which you could dress yourself. So many ways in which you could compose your image. There is no limit to anything in this world. And I must say I am greedy. Greedy to live five lives all at once. I want to be a poet in Paris eating croissants and sipping black coffee brewed in a glass chemex. I also seek to be an artist spending days and nights in a New York city studio. I want to be a business woman grabbing lunch inbetween meetings, always in a rush and a planner in hand. I dream to be a lover, a mother, a carer for those in need. I would also love to be a social activist and become the change I wish to see in the world. Sometimes it feels so overwhelming. There are so many paths to be taken and so little time. Everything takes so much time. I always struggle to catch up. I want to work hard, to fully use my time, to live at least a few of those lifes in a lifetime. But it gets tiring. I have too many ideas. Too many daydreams. Too many plans. Too little life. Even right now I am messing up words, mixing them together, spelling in the strangest of possible ways. All because I am thinking too fast. My brain seems to never stop. Sometimes I want it to stop, but then again... I must work hard. But chasing after five lifes seems to be depriving me of the one I have. How do I make the choice? What should I focus on? Probably just transfer to buddhism and gain a few more due to reincarnation. Seems the least overwhelming.

And now that I am thinking some more. At even faster pace. I must say I can cleary visualise that my loneliness will follow me whichever way. Because I can never imagine myself alone. There's always imaginary companionship. The one thing truly missing from my life. The one cause of my running away strategy of life. The one source of the ache of the heart.

Być sinusoidą czyli przemyślenia dni ostatnich.

Jestem osobą, która na porządku dziennym ulega licznym namiętnościom i fascynacjom. Zgodnie    z "Historią piękna" Umberto Eco jestem poetką idealną - i jest to jedyna okoliczność w której odważę się na tak bezwstydne stwierdzenie. Doświadczam głębiej, częściej, chwiejniej, w sposób bardziej natchniony i abstrakcyjny niż większość. Świat, który podziwiam faktycznie przypomina las natchniony symbolami. Zwykłam postrzegać naturę jako klucz teorii wszystkiego oraz od najmłodszych lat poświęcałam nadzwyczajną uwagę jej rytuałom. Dzisiejszy zachód słońca, za sprawą absurdalnego przypadku, stał się maszyną czasu za pośrednictwem której odbyłam podróż w głąb mojej podświadomości. Omawiając piękno rozświetlające przestrzeń naszej atmosfery, jak to na ogół bywa, rozjuszyłam ciąg zapętlonych myśli, symboli i skojarzeń. Początkowo na płaszczyznę mojej świadomości wkroczyły  banalne przemyślenia dawniej śledzonej influencerki, potem gorączkowo zapisałam następujące słowa:

"Z każdej dzielnicy widać go inaczej

W obrębie jednego miasta kilka zachodów choć jeden

Obserwowanych przez miliony oczu na sposobów milion

Powietrze wciągane innymi nozdrzami, kolory odbierane różnymi źrenicami

Miliony sposobów przeżycia jednej rzeczy"

Dzisiaj fascynują mnie zatem sposoby odczuwania. Na obecny moment naszą Ziemię zamieszkuje 7,6 miliarda osób. Spośród nich nie sposób znaleźć dwóch identycznych. Ale wszystko to są spostrzeżenia na poziomie ucznia podstawówki. Co dzisiaj zaczęło budzić moje wtórne zainteresowanie to złożoność ludzkiego organizmu oraz wpływ tej różnorodności na sposoby przeżywania świata. Czy znacie to uczucie, najczęściej po wizycie u dentysty, gdy wasze usta stają się odrętwiałe i z części twarzy, o której obecności normalnie zapominacie, nagle stają się ciałem obcym, intruzją? Pomyślcie o tym. Gdyby zamienić wasze usta z ustami przyjaciółki, zyskalibyście zupełnie nową umiejętność poznania. Nagle wasza świadomość posiadania ust wzrosłaby stuprocentowo. Tymczasem ona, tak samo jak wy w stanie pierwotnym, podczas podziwiania przykładowego zachodu słońca zapomina o ich kształcie, formie czy obecności w natłoku percepcji innych dóbr wszechświata. Do czego dążę to spostrzeżenie, że człowiek jest organizmem skonstruowanym z miliona mikroelementów. Każdy drobiazg - rysa, zmarszczka, blizna - oraz każda dominująca forma - usta, nos, broda, czoło - decydują o naszej percepcji. Na co dzień nie zauważamy obecności tych elementów, gdyż nasze bodźce prędko by wtedy oszalały. Ale gdyby lekko zmienić jedną z forem - zmieniłoby się wszystko. Dlatego nieustannie podtrzymuję wniosek, który omówiłam x postów temu - istnieje tyle wszechświatów ilu jego odbiorców. Moje oczy, moje usta, mój nos, moje dłonie, moje stopy, moje ręce, pieprzyk na nadgarstku, dziurka w uchu, pojedyncza rzęsa - wszystko to ma znaczący wpływ na wygląd mojego wszechświata. A co istotniejsze, wszystko to jest maksymalnie indywidualne, nie do podrobienia. Jak więc mam się odnieść do przeżyć koleżanki jeśli tak naprawdę, nie mam pojęcia jak to jest nosić jej usta, oddychać jej nosem, dotykać jej dłonią, a co dopiero przeżywać świat jej organizmem. Co człowiek tak naprawdę jest w stanie powiedzieć o wszechświecie? Wszystko... Tylko nic w sposób uniwersalny. I tak oto przyroda, po raz kolejny, stała się gruntem dla teorii wszystkiego.

Teraźniejszość.

Teraźniejszość jest chyba najtrudniejszym okresem do zdefiniowania. Jest to przecież miejsce w czasie niemalże bez punktów odniesienia. Nigdy nie wiemy do jakiej kategorii nasze życie przydzieli wydarzenia z tu i teraz. Może płacz dzisiejszego poranka był najgorszym co spotka Cie w życiu, może moment twojego największego załamania już miał miejsce, podczas gdy ty czekasz na coś większego, a może dopiero nadejdzie i wszystkie wspomnienia zebrane dotychczas tak naprawdę okażą się być niemiarodajne. Jak możemy mówić o tym co teraz gdy tak naprawdę nie wiemy jaki to będzie miało wpływ na naszą biografię. Jak możemy oceniać panujące realia jeśli nie mamy wyobrażenia o ich impakcie na pełen obrazek. I kiedy nastąpi właściwy moment oceny? Czy dzień ostateczny nie zdaje się być terminem zbyt odległym? Mimo, że teraźniejszość niezaprzeczalnie trwa i istnieje oraz  jest najbardziej szczerym historycznie okresem to określenie właśnie jej charakteru jest dla nas najtrudniejsze. Prawdomówność teraźniejszości sprowadza się do jej namacalnej i dowodowej natury. Nie da się jej zmienić gdyż trwa. Nie można jej przekłamać gdyż stale obnaża swoje prawdziwe oblicze. Paradoksalnie, mimo to nie sposób jest ocenić jaki ma ona charakter i wpływ na bieg historii małej czy dużej.

milk and honey

It's been a long road but we're finally here. The book has finally found its way to my hands. And I am swallowing it. It took me 5 minutes to get through the first set of poems - the hurting. The book is magical. And I feel an even stronger connection with the author. Milk and honey is amazingly straight forward yet private, simple yet complex. Balanced.


   ~ a quick post with a sentimental meaning

My first kiss with art,

I've always wanted to create under the influence of strong emotions but obviously I had to wait for them to snowball onto my consciousness. Well today was the day the avalanche has come. After several panic attacs this week I've had enough. You always see these tumblr posts about how painting can keep you away from negative thoughts, forms of self-harm, anything self-destructive really. Basically articles indicating art's healing purposes. Today was the day I gave the idea a shot. So I pulled out all of my art supplies and poured my feelings onto a canvas. A canvas dedicated to a completly different cause. A cause well planned. An idea. A concept of profanating arts in order to find novelty. I gave up my "try-hard innovator" attitude and really reflected myself. I am what's on the canvas. My paper thin visage in a visible, materialistic form. My feelings, thoughts, fears and auto reviews on full display. A very public, nude reflection of my soul.

The experience itself was very similar to "catharsis". As the paint was escaping the tube, my deepest, best-hidden emotions were escaping as well. The creation process of the piece was what has brought its title to mind. "My first kiss with art". My hands truly shaking, my eyes chaotically sweeping the surface & my breath gradually quickening. The experience was so deep and raw it was unlike any other creation process I have ever went through.

I decided to show what I was unable to say. And it is for the first time that I truly feel connected to the piece I have painted. It shows a supernova explosion, agitated ocean, the dance of defeat in "Wedding" and grains of sahara sands. It's brush strokes, swatches made with a spatula and nails scraping the canvas. It's an unworded complection of  a self relieved from a cage-like bodily structure.

How I feel about art museums.

Whenever I go to an art museum I always feel inspired, my soul is filled with a sense of belonging and happines but there are parts of my brain left empty and unsatisfied. Why is it that art exhibitions are so incomplete and so uninformative? I know that art is supposed to make you feel something. But that's only the perceiving aspect of it. There are so many SO MANY aspects of art. The process of creating it, the progress, the stages, the emotional torture of the artist, the techniques. I want to see a display of artwork along with the creators' comentatory. Why is the piece the way it is, how was such effect achieved, which techiques were used and how, what was the inspiration and is the piece the original thought or is it a crop of a blooming thought? Was the piece just a series of fortunate mistakes? As an ”artist” I am aware that there is a lot of emotional investement and thought put into every painting, poem, melody. Art isn't the destionation, it's also the process of its becoming. I can't stress this enough. Some of my favourites exhibitions where ones filled with quotations, sketches, interviews, video clips of the artists. It makes the experience ten times more enjoyable and art more accesible for a wider audience. You can get – as an recipient – a better understanding of what you're looking at. Yes coming up with interpretations is fun and important but it's such a shame when you don't understand the title and have no acces to its source, its point, the proper understanding of the work. I wish art was more informative. I wish museums provided more. I wish art didn't stop at the frame and the recepients' eyes. I wish it lived in writing. I wish it had stories and memories written about it. I wish it brought up more conversation. I wish for there to be a museum which helps artists better themselves not just comfort or inspire them. I wish that after seeing a great display of modern art I knew in what way was the wax shaped and how was the string attached to the canvas. I wish I knew so that I could figure new ways of my own. I wish I could grow from what's already there. But I guess art is constantly being shaped to be a lone path filled with questions and emotional ache based on the disparity between the idea and the material form of it.

But on the other hand I love how museums don't lie. There is no retouch. Just a canvas in a frame hang on a typically white wall. It's not digital nor improved in any way. You can get up close and personal with each piece. Discover it in every angle, from every perspective. See its imperfections, parts uncovered in paint, overapplied glue and uneven lines. You can see everything and find comfort in the fact that even the greatest paintings have some shortcomings. Museums teach you that it's okay to get lost. It's okay to try and fail. It's okay to profane a canvas for the sake of redefining art.

Art is not solely the destination nor the canvas, it is the creation process too.

If you really love him,

So I came across this tumblr post: http://kcastayclassy.tumblr.com/post/163099529214/if-you-really-love-her-you-will-always-try-if and really wanted to make a reply. Give it a read first, so you can fully understand what point I'm trying to get across here.

If you really love him, you will let him set his emotions free and make sure he knows it's okay for boys to cry too. You will give his feelings as much recognition as he offers yours and you will never make fun of him for it them in any way.

If you really love him, you will message him back as soon as you can because boys deserve fast replies too. They deserve to feel wanted and needed. Like oxygen.

If you really love him, you will put up with his anger management issues. It will be your life goal to understand what calms him and know all of his triggers. You will take care of his mental health.

If you really love him, you will be curious about being a good girlfirend to him and you will worry about covering all his needs. You will try your harderst to give him the world and life he deserves.

If you really love him, you will be interested enough to ask him about what he wants to do and surprise him with dates built up around activities he enjoys.

If you really love him, you will remind him. Boys deserve cute long paragraphs too.

If you really love him, you will trust him and give him space as needed. You will try to maintain your jealousy and sarcastic replies. You will try your hardest to calm down your wild thoughts while he's hanging out with another girl because they've been friends since kindergarten. You will try to remember that he's yours and chose you and it's okay for him to have a wide circle of friends or like someones' pictures or do whatever you guys tend to fight about the most.

If you really love him, you will apologize first because you shouldn't want him to go to sleep sad.

If you really love him, you won't let him apologize and feel bad when you know it's you who messed up. You will own up to your mistakes. And you will never make him feel like he needs to say sorry for who he is.

If you really love him, you will give his feelings recognition and respect. No matter what is it about – who you meet up with, what you wear. As long as it's coming from a place of love and not controllment and superiority. Boys deserve to be heard too.