mardi 11 février 2014
To share with no limits!
(The pictures are from my travel through South East Asia - here: Bangkok, Thailand)
mardi 10 décembre 2013
One month ago, I have left a country it took me so much pain, time and challenges to live in. I had a brand new life there, began to have new friends, new job, I even could have a - basic - conversation - in Burmese.
I settled in Yangon, Myanmar.
Not so long ago, if someone would have told me I would travel around the whole world, earning my life with internet through skills I loved and I was gifted for, I would question myself about his/her mental sanity.
I was living in a country I was crazy about, and however, 4 months after having settled, I have left. I have begun to build an entire new life there, and I have left.
I don't say it was not heartbreaking to make this decision. I don't say it did not cost me much pain, tears, doubts, mind confusion.
During my stay in Yangon, in my - as I used to define it - "Lovely Hell", I saw a lot of things that compassionate eyes would have barely believed in. I saw Disgusting. I saw Unbearable. I felt Unfair. I realized that some human beings, somewhere - very close to me - are treated - and live worse -than an animal. And I was so grateful for what I had. And I wanted to help so much.
Living in this country, learning its habits and language, getting deeper into the understandings of a nation I was so different from but I so deeply fell in love with, I WOULD be able to make the difference. And I have begun to.
And then, I fell sick. I have tried to go through it, and it got worse. I mean: really worse.
I had 2 choices: staying - and getting even more sick. Or leaving - and recovering.
How many people have to face a situation because they have to? How many people have to live a life they did not chose, simply because they were born in a country they would not have any ability to make choices?
You may have a lot of money. You may be famous and having your face on the top of the world's newspapers. You may even be the healthiest person on Earth. But if you don't have the power of choosing the life you want to live and the ability of making choices, would that really count?
Take a minute to think about this. And make the right decision for you are able to do so. Don't waste the biggest power you have ever received.
samedi 23 février 2013
24.02.2013 - My resurrection birthday - 1 year old.
Today, I should have been dead. Since one year.
Since the 24th of february 2012, when, somewhere between Lima and Cuzco, Peru, my bus rolled onto itself at 4 a.m. The driver fell asleep and, what a "brave" guy!, ran away when it happened.
Today, I have a look at my life.
I have learnt how to swim at 31, overcoming a 30 year-old phobia.
I have taken the plane again at 32, after 3 years of having stopped flying because of an event that occured once only in my imagination.
I have sent my first book to publishers (some texts, because you know I m finishing it), at 33, and will soon realize my very dream: to be a writer.
I travel. I love. I have high hopes. I dream. I LIVE!
Today, I should have been dead. Or, "at least", severely injured.
But I was BLESSED.
Blessed by a second birthday, the day I realized I have never been taking, until that day, a second of my life to really live it.
Who, amongst ourselves, is dead inside while still living?
So, as a wish for my 1 year-old "resurrection" birthday, the one that really counts for me, I wish to all of you, to take one minute to ask yourselves if THIS life is the life you REALLY want to live.
Be silly. Be unconscious. Tell the one you love that you love them. Take the time -I mean: really- to enjoy a butterfly, a bird song, a smile of a stranger in the street. And think that death would not wait. It could happen tomorrow...Today.
So, for the Universe's sake, LIVE THE LIFE YOU WANT TO LIVE AND NOT THE ONE OTHERS WANT YOU TO LIVE!!!!!!!
This is my wish to you all.
May you hear the voice of the Universe talking through mine, its humble instrument.
And, please, take one minute to send all your love and compassion to the people that didn't have my chance.
Thank you ♥
dimanche 26 août 2012
Yesterday evening while going to a live music pub to meet a friend, when I went out the subway, I felt someone touching lightly my arm. It was soft and lasted 2 seconds, but it was enough to make me feel embarrassed. I turned back to see who touched me this way; saw a 50-year-old guy, from India according to his ethnic appearance. He was smiling but not in a naughty, bad-thoughts way. This smile was just as natural as breathes we could take, like an evidence. It was innocent, and sincere. Slightly disoriented, I looked at him with a “Hey, dude, what’s the matter?!” look.
Then, I began to think about it.
When I was a child, I was raised with the fear of God, in a polish very catholic family. Touching people was excluded, just as telling them you love them.
And don’t even think about sex!!!
I grew up in this environment, frustrated and scared, and began to think that was the only way to behave towards people; I even turned out to be disgusted by any physical contact until my late eighties. Even after my first sexual experience, I was still extremely disturbed by expressing my thoughts, my love, by physical contact. This hasn’t changed until my thirties.
I don’t know why this guy has touched me this way, but what I do know is that he didn’t do this to offend me. Why do we think someone we don’t know would automatically hurt us by such a natural, compassionate attitude? Is our society sick in the point to see an ugly intention in such a beautiful gesture? The lack of contact wouldn’t bring us straight to a lack of humanity?
lundi 11 juin 2012
mercredi 30 mai 2012
We lift the veil on something
Only to discover there is another one.
Is reality the one we are looking at
Or the one we are searching for?
I doubt colours, I doubt feelings inside
Questions assail me
I just believe in what I
Do not see
Are you here, Spirit of Me?
A mask has just been covered
With another mask
I m searching for something I cannot find
And just don’t remember what.
mardi 8 mai 2012
We are all schizophrenics.
Our straitjacket is invisible because it is mental. The Ego, this tyrannical and capricious child, traps our mind, limiting us between his own boundaries.
Therefore, there is the being we really are and the worldly animal we present to society. The being we crave to be and the one we are in reality. The surface that reflects in the social mirror and our subjective being, hidden in the obscurity of our subconscious.
Two voices constantly fight against one another inside of us. But we often listen to one of them, muzzling the second, too weak to resist. The Ego calls, again and again, for the part of a cake that would never satisfy it. Establishes toughly the boundaries that are supposed to delimit him and therefore strengthen it.
This way, some of us would define themselves, their entire life, by a unique job, passion, partner, comforting the mental prisoner of its own illusion.
To open these boundaries would mean to dilute this Me that the Ego had all the pains in the world to barricade. To loose its power on the perception we have of our being by erasing those limits is unbearable. This would even probably resurrect this voice we kept silent so many times.
But wouldn’t this be the best thing to be done?
Trapped in the illusionary fortress of this fake safety, we keep blocking any concept that would make its walls trembling.
But the real truth is beyond these boundaries. Would we have enough courage to set us free from them?