So, leave the computer and put that chips aside! (Postcard no.4)

http://www.kuruza.com/ss-postcards-project/  

There are people who appreciate and enjoy the solitude and I am one of them. We are doing fine, we are good by default, we work hard and when we do not, we work for pleasure. We try to overcome the unspecified needs constantly pushing our limits. This emotional needs, which (seen with our eyes) occur all over the sudden we choice to ignore, hoping denial will erase them from our hearts and souls and set us free. Free from humanity, empathy, humbleness or love!

 In our everyday life, while our promised future becomes today or yesterday, within our hearts we are overcoming the obligations we invented in order to achieve wealth and as we believe for our own good, but paradoxically under the idea of doing something for ourselves, we are doing against ourselves. Distraction, interaction, superficiality. The truth is the work overload is a getaway. The work is a cure to overdose with. 

Occupation lose the game once when you realize that your solitude is becoming loneliness or conscious isolation. I prefer to say that there is a shadow of sorrow which follows solitude. I believe you can simply step into either of it, without being aware, leading your decision into the intense trap. 

The moment when solitude becomes loneliness is when you realize that there are common things you would and you should enjoy in sharing with someone. Everyday situations, often totally bizarre ones, are the sparks of happiness.

You think about this 'someone' whit distance and sadness, because you do not understand who you actually miss. But, it is no one in particular; you miss emotional interaction with similar people. So, the solitude is wonderful until it stops to be. Regardless how introvert and comfortable you are in being alone and cherishing it, there are times you have to recognize that things you love are harming you. 

If your friends live in your computer, then find a person or a few people for who you feel you can share your interests with; those individuals who are easy to roll with, the ones who does not have to be introduced or to tolerate the difference, because they accept it from the beginning.  

Meet people live for walks and talks, for coffees and ice-creams! Meet them, dream about them, be with them! Social interactions and solitude are only appreciated when they follow each other. Do more of what makes you happy, but what includes others as well. Do sports or do drinks! Dance until the morning or have a picnic! Watch the stars is must! Laughing is must! Hugs are must!  Connecting with others on the deep human level is a new collection of the social skills in Spring 2106!  Engaging into and maintaining the true relations, building the tenderness and compassion, empathy and affection is the opportunity to be able to recognize and to use the best outcomes of your solitude moments. Because, people who are spending time with themselves in long contemplation are able to recognize the needs of ones they care for; they are capable to make a room for other person's needs and to create the safe zone for other person's feelings. I truly believe people are connected with their souls. 

So, leave the computer and put that chips aside!

Emotional balance is something which person has to achieve for oneself, and regardless of how much of solitude you need or apply in your life, it feels good to know that you are not alone and that someone is waiting to see you soon.

 

In this relations and those moments, the solitude becomes inspiration. 

"What shall I bestow upon you when I do not own anything but my words?"

Today I spent all afternoon with my parents, my sister and her daughters. Yes, I am very attached to my family and I cherish close relations with them. We share our time, our good and bad moments, our actuality and our past  But, today a strange moment happen and I was not prepared for it. A moment of travelling through the time; going a decade in reverse. My mom brought out a sheet of paper after the lunch. It was a song I wrote to her 10 years ago for her birthday and she wanted to share it with my 10 years old niece. 

The song was written by hand on a blank sheet of paper from notebook. 

I do not remember writing  process, neither poem's existence. I do not remember my mother reaction when I gave her a peace of my soul written down with my left handed, difficult for reading writing style. I do not recall particularly that birthday of hers, except the fact that it was November 18th, 2005. I was in a high school back then. As any teenager, I was more focused on my inner world rather then on my reality. To be honest, in that time, books were my reality; most likely depression as well, even though I never saw it to be an issue when I was living my episodes or periods. 

She asked me to read it to my niece, because no one can read my handwriting; I always wrote exclusively for myself and I never made a copies of my work. I remember the moment when 4 professors tried to read my final essay at the high school, because they founded my handwriting to be very complex. Eventually, they understood that  the context I wrote was better then expected, so I was awarded with the higher recognition - to be naturally gifted future writer. The same belief followed me through the collage, but my highly developed self-criticism put a shadow on my possibly bright future of becoming a writer; I would call it a curse rather than a natural gift, but regardless how is marked, living with it and despite it is the only way which remains. 

But when I took this sheet of paper, when I saw my handwriting, when I looked at personal note addressed to my mother, I simply started to cry without any control. I read it for myself, choking in my spontaneous tears, trying to read it fast, so I can take some air; trying to get down from the roller-coaster of my constantly present melancholy, with the same intensity even after a decade, trying to tame this overwhelming sorrow within me. 

So, I found some strength left to read it out loud to my niece, whom hugged me when she spot the tears in my eyes. So, I am reading and my hands are shaking, my soul is breaking and my heart is growing in the same moment. It is ode to my mother and I do not want to sound pretentious, but with the decade of distance, I can say it is well written; deeply melancholic and honest poem. 

And I am reading it so everyone can hear me. My mother cries too. Why do you think I end up to be so emotional? It is a personal heritage from her and my full of love childhood. 

The one verse is repeating in a good manner and it sounds something like "What shall I bestow upon you when I do not own anything but my words?"

While reading it, I start to understand that a lot of things happen within 10 years, but nothing what matters has ever changed. 

Catwoman will save a day (with the puppy look in her eyes)

On the beginning of my twenties I used to date an older guys. They made me feel special; they made me feel spoiled. Simply, I felt as a young girl should feel: like a princess. From them I  learned how to be grateful to my youth, how to enjoy the time and the present moment, further on to dream big, to explore my inner world, to understand how to love my body, the other person, their fears and worlds around us. They loved me, they admire me, they broke me and eventually  helped me to grow up. I still love those few individuals and their madness as I love my favorite writers. 

The thing I love about them the most is that they never changed; they remain to be a lunatics, socially unexceptionable, emotionally unreachable,  now in their forties, but still caring around the boy's dreams and boy's heart. They loved life and all manifests of it. I was always smart enough to understand that the only person whom you should try to save from the inner demons is yourself. Even then, success is not guarantied. The funny thing is that I was always ready, despite common sense,  as every young believer is, to trade my dreams and my heart for salvation of their brokenness.  Luckily or unfortunately, depends of your perception, I was saved by my own demons and my broke illusions at the end.

But that is the new chapter, the broken ones. I loved those men. I think I still do. Those are the most intense and most hopeless emotional relationships; you love his imperfections, but for some reason, which none of evolved understands, you try to fix it; you try to help him.  He might asks for the help, but to tell you the truth, he does not really want it; he simply enjoys your good will to sacrifice for him. But, once when you are distanced and you can see clearly what this all was about, you understand how stupid you were, but you do not regret! How fake it  was? Fake enough to believe in ti!  But, you are young, you are now aware of your innocent blindness and so it shall be forgiven!

As time was passing I spotted the young ones. The beautiful boys with big dreams, but shy individuals. Insecure ones. The ones with a lot of potential to grow up into men every girl or woman dreams of, but the boys with the lack of courage. 

So, what I did? I tried to encourage them. To provoke them to think big, to be brave, to become aware how beautiful they are (I believe everyone is, but I find some people more beautiful then others; the one with the vision I admire the most) and how to keep up with this (re)mark in their lives. 

Everyone needs encouragement; someone gets it for free from local lunatics, and the others pay for it with their smashed self-esteem, with their tears, and most important with their lost time.

I am 29 today. I do not need encouragement anymore, but I am truly enjoying to raise awareness of people how beautiful they are, how big they can grow, how far their imagination can take them, if they would only try to believe. 

To believe in my words, in the look of a stranger, in the impossible, in their hopes in third person's dreams, in their own strength. If  they would only allowed themselves to escape this judgmental environment, they would discover that there are a parallel universes in their everyday's lives! Your dreams are reality there; there can become here if you deeply believe in magic.

The truth is: there are people whom trust in you more that you trust in yourself. 

Some of my already forgotten loves made their way out of this madness called socially acceptable behavior, adult expectations, real life and the other bullshit. They saved their souls and shared their beauty with those whom are cable to recognize it in their art or simply in their humanity. 

There was a lot of, more or less, significant men in my life, even though I cannot recall some of their names. There were also the ones I used to dream about years after, but regardless the fact that  I was always surrounded with more men, rather then women during my twenties, the women are those whom truly made an impact in my life, and whom inspired me the most. 

I do not know a lot of woman, but those l know I had admired from the beginning.

Those women are storms; they are hurricanes of alien energies, waterfalls of fresh inspirations, and nevertheless, they are goddess and warriors for their believes and dreams; they are braver than any men I ever cross the path with. Each of them is a Catwoman and owns the avenue of  her broken dreams, lost loves and past lives. All of them are proud, but, in the same time, humble. All of those women own the universe within.

Women I admire are cats with the puppy look in their eyes, but with the dragon's fire in their hearts.  

Catwoman will save a day.  Trust me. 

You say you love me, but you do not, my love.

You say you love me, but you do not, my love. 

Love cannot be squeezed into one word or defined using only language, simply  because it does not belong to language. Twist your head around, It's all around you,  All is full of love. I will not try to define it, I am not a fool. 

I love words as much as I love love, but I never believed that for me or for anyone else is possible to frame complexity of love into one word, regardless the language we use. Off course, I have tendencies to describe feelings, to get a little bit closer to understanding of my inner world. We are humans and we intent to be in control, but beauty of love is in the fact that it is our of the reach. It is divine feeling and completely intuitive. If you know why you love someone, you probably do not love that person. 

Do not say you love me, because you do not. We are not lovers, neither friends, even we strongly feel both. You will protect me, you said. You will help me and be there for me! - I have heard from you many times, while we were drinking and smoking on the balcony feeling confusion of our heartbeats and coldness of winter's nights.  But you are not able to keep up with your words. You are exiled from your dreams and feelings. Today I am your friend, but tonight you will love me again and be jealous while I am kissing the other man. I will sleep in your bed again, alone, while you will spend the night on the couch. We will have puzzling fight and feel bad tomorrow, texting to each other: "I am sorry!", but thinking: I do not want to lose you. 

Then, you will start to date a girl and insist on my presence there. We are friends, right? Then you will kiss her, but stare at me. And I will drink more and laugh harder, trying to make it easier and less awkward for all of us.  I do not want to witness your deeply superficial relations, but I am doing it for some sick reason and I pretend not to care. I do it because I understand what you do not. I understand why you think you love me. 

You need me to be the person seen with my eyes. You love the version of yourself created in our most intimate moments in the crowed places during the long, confusing nights. That is what it is all about; we manage to create our own universe in presence of others. We establish addiction of other ones presence, but we did not talk about it. 

If you ask me we should never talk about feelings; we should only feel and follow it. We should let it inspire us! Allowed it to take us where we cannot go all by ourselves. We should follow our intuition and let ourselves go. 

Anyhow, tomorrow we will only be friends. 

 You do not love me, my dear, you only understand that feels right to be near me.

 If you would love me, you would not have to say it, but I would still be able to read it. So, you are drunk again, right? You love me, but it is too emotional, than too sexual and eventually too complicated. Love is never complicated, believe me. Love moves galaxies and transforms weaknesses into the strength.

It is a strong force, stronger than the sea.  

You say you love me, and I believe you. 

I knew it before I heard the words. I believe you, because I feel you. But again, if you think you love me enough, I will prove you wrong. Because, babe, love makes you brave, it makes you foolish, but it does not makes you being friends with someone. 

Thank you for your love, but if you are only ready to offer me learned version of love, than I recommend you to learn how to love someone else. 

Love, hera