Autism

"many autistic authors turn to poetry, a form that frees them from constraints of syntax and story and permits them to focus on the perceptual qualities of the images represented and the phonological structure applied. In this domain of expression, autistic differences can manifest not as abnormal deficits but as abnormal skills". Belmonte (2008)
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Amber mood

Cultural masks protect us from lack of self confidence.

You hang piles of scantily dressed pouting pictures 

Spinning recurring social webs like a senile spider

There is no download key for happiness software

Sadness overflow, cut through wounds, a lurch

Amber mood, like sap pearling down a birch

Peeling off bark, running along the beech alley

Rub your skin and skip down the beach way

Like a caterpillar in a dark slumber I wait for summer

When sunlight fade your smile is a shining wonder

Ignite my mind, radiant energy, bitter harmony

Let the sky fall, Moon tears slip on my nose

You put a cross through my lips, silent prose

xx

some shades of grey

You painted my world in shades of black and white

I feel like a stranded wooden trunk in a storm

Dark grey spots tearing the sky down to sea foam

Death is an old lithography drawn from carbon ashes

Memories of beautiful lives that clung to my heart

I hear your high laughs and see your sparkling blue eyes

But your small soft hand slips away behind a thin skin

I strive to break free but I am trapped in an elastic bubble

On the wrong side of the multiverse where it is silent

xx

Afraid to be happy?

I don’t believe in souls or gods, I studied hard and soft sciences and prefer rational, logical explanations. So I genuinely thought I was immune to magical thinking, only to discover that I still hold irrational beliefs.

My superstition number one is: whenever I touch happiness, it slips from me as I reach to grasp it. Therefore I have been suffering stupidly from avoiding to engage in satisfying pursues that are dear to my well-being. As if doing what I love could make my newly acquired happiness crumble.

That’s a terrible mistake for three reasons: friends are not going to run away because I do what I want. And if they did they wouldn't be true friends, so I shouldn't be afraid of fully embracing my weirdness.

Secondly forgetting that I need loneliness, physical challenges and a rather strict (austere? ascetic?) routine can only lead me to feeling dissatisfied, unhealthy and unable to tend those precious relationships.  

Thirdly if I focus too much on fitting in people’s agendas I forget that my dreams are bigger, harder to achieve but so much more worth pursuing than some praise or petty money. Finally there is limited reservoir of happy moments that would run out if I'm enjoying life too much, so only misery would await in the future. This is a scarcity mindset much ingrained from a mining metaphors: finite resources can get depleted. However if you live in the forest, you quickly realize that each spring leaves grow back and each summer fruit are ripe, unless you cut the trees...

The take home message for anyone reading my confessions:

1. listen to yourself in order to know what you like

2. what feels right must be done over and over again

3. dream big in bright colors and paint your reality points by points

4. don’t give up until your masterpiece is achieved

5. walk in the forest as often as possible, move in if you can!

xx

Tales of sunset

Goodbye September 

My neurons bathes happily in a unique hormonal mix I recreated by listening to last year autumn playlist and dancing under the setting sunrays. Every move stimulate different muscle and joints which boosts some blood rush to my glands and sends a gleeful shot of soothing chemicals to mind. While I harmoniously stretch my whole body in sync with psychedelic trance music, every tension is released like burst bubbles that tickle my heart. Warm citrus colored sunrays melt my heart as sparkles of emerald, sapphire and amber brighten up our eyes. Hair swings like twigs and shines like gold and bronze. Sunset stretches over and over again like a multiple orgasm coming in waves and surprisingly returning while fading away until birches finally swallow the latest gasp of light.

I love anything and anyone that comes across my wandering thoughts relentlessly, blissful sensation. Just as sun blinds if gazed at too directly, love could set fire to my mind. Yet I take steps and feel each moment bringing me closer to beauty and peace, I leave fear and embrace love fully and I fall safely into fluffy angels wings like the gentle pink clouds. After a frantic summer marked by exhilarated senses, shared feasts and nightless dreams, autumn leaves us hollow. Hopefully vacuum is space for love fed by many summer discoveries.

I love hard and strong and if I fall and break, when I am healed the scar will remind me that pain vanishes soon but confidence lasts a lifetime. I don’t hold back and let each sun drop feed more energy, and I sink deeper into universal love. I carefully tie memories to the nightingales, blackberry bushes and woodshed in order to cherish them in the midst of the long winter. I weave colors, smells and feelings so that I cling on them when I am desperately cold and hopelessly lost in the black night. Thousand morning frostbites shape the northern child into a passionate strong heart.

xx

Newsmare

I would like to show how to read news both critically and positively. 

1. Critically because even a long article from a serious source is usually only one side of a story. So reading comments from various people is enlightening as they point various flaws, add missing information and correct baseless assumptions.

2. Positively because it is easy to feel helpless while submerged by catastrophes, injustices and abuse that are so widespread in the human world. It is also easier to judge wrongdoers and point blaming fingers rather than actively searching for a solution. Implementing baby steps to support the vision of the world you want to see is what matters.

According to this article, lack of play is turning children into low-empathy narcissists with stunted creativity. http://www.aeonmagazine.com/being-human/children-today-are-suffering-a-severe-deficit-of-play

The author links the decrease of children freedom to the observed increase in mental disorders like depression and suicides in the second half of 20th century. The biggest lesson I want to remember is that actively teaching something to children is not desirable. Rather children should be encouraged to learn by themselves, mostly through play. Children need mentors rather than teachers, and learn from example rather than punishment and fear.

The next link is both very upsetting and puzzling. My feelings switched from horror to anger when reading the physical and psychological torture that some prisoners endure right now in Russia.

http://www.theguardian.com/music/2013/sep/23/pussy-riot-hunger-strike-nadezhda-tolokonnikova

A glimpse into the comments put back the emotions into the broader picture of human rights’ violations which aren’t really limited to Russia. Unfortunately news about USA jails depicted as sweat shops and recent stories of whistle blowers being incarcerated for life have not really left any hope that the ”West” is actually fighting for freedom. 

Hence blaming Russia and asking or a boycott of business relations or the Olympic Games (as was suggested due to serious attack against homosexual people) jump to mind, but is this really efficient? Aren’t ordinary peaceful citizens unnecessarily deprived by such actions? 

China is the most populated dictator state in the world; it executes many human beings regularly, forbids freedom, pollutes heavily the atmosphere that we all share and breathe from and is well known for widespread animal abuse. Yet the computer I’m writing with now is probably mostly made in China, just as so many of our everyday objects.

I can easily refuse to buy a TV made in China to watch the Russian Olympic Games sponsored by sport brands that have their clothes & shoes made in Bangladeshi factories. Instead I’ll walk the forest and pick wild food or play with friends.

xx

Flowing dream

Listening 20 times to same song in a trance like state and singing to release emotions,

Thoughts’ turmoil and feelings troubling my mind,

Sometimes all I need is a muse, but this feels like an aborted heartbreak, a liquid breach in my soul, flowing down the lagoon, clear, and saline like the Baltic Sea water. I can’t stop looking into the light playing over the moving surface, back and forth just like my thoughts, should I or not? These visions of my life look so real and so illusionary at the same time that I can’t stop doubting that truth could ever exist. Even my own image is ebbing and flooding, my unstable self is lost somewhere in translation between what was and what is real.

When almost everyone is gulping happily a vision of the future that has been designed by some external media, I frown in disgust and stop looking. I may keep my eyes open and see, yet my awareness is directed towards my taste. Do I like this or that? Do I prefer these or those? Where do I want to be? Who do I really want to hug? What is it that I really would like to do if I were totally free?

No I don’t really question myself rather I visualise what feels good, nice and pleasurable. I overindulge in my fantasized hedonist inner paradise. The more I daydreamed, the more I could see how it would look like. And from these first images my imagination built scenarios which would get modified with acquired experience and painful mistakes. I don’t question myself but I adjust the parameters of the dream world.

xx

The harmonious web

I feel secure. There is a safety net all around me when I close my eyes. Suddenly I hold them open yet the panoramic scenery is unfolding without robbing my inner vision. From this third eye I visualise a multi-dimensional matrix of connexions all around me while wild awake. It looks like a spider web. Any thread is sticky and incidentally unbreakable. I can fall a long way without fear. A corner of my mind intuitively infers the protective knots from a dumbing massive influx of information. Somewhere knots tie dozens of thread together, other places are simple crossroads. Most threads are so thin that I barely notice them, bar their glimmer, although it appears thicker randomly anywhere. Is the flow disrupted?  

Dreams about flying and nightmares about free falling are over. Each step in life evolves along selected uneven mats of threads and they can be jumped to and from. This does not require flight nor fall. If any step is neither right nor wrong then an obvious property of the web is amorality. Each thread is shiny and reflects a soothing strong white light usually. Any time vibration along threads may diffract light rays, so harmony distils selected scope of the rainbow towards the higher frequencies: blue, indigo, and violet.

Striking various chords in a chosen order plays the music of causation. The outcome of this deterministic song seems as hazardous as the success of a new tune. However music is exquisite when a virtuoso is crawling on the web of imagination. Intuitions appear as colourful sounds embedded in time and space. It is not only vain but futile to tear apart the web in order to locate where and when it happens. It happens within a frame that is ephemeral. Observing the frame is like catching time. I can count second but I would be a fool to pretend that this second is like last second. Otherwise time would stop to flow. Life is not, life has become.

xx

Sentinels

They are no Eros, their arrows are poisonous
They are just heroes unlike your stuff and fluff
Their stares are not meant to rob your heart
They see the filth hidden behind yours manners

xx

Bliss

...

And my feet didn't slip on the wet boulders paving the stream flow. A flip flop at a time I squeeze tight my toes on rounded rocks and defy the ambient humidity pearling on my forehead. It's too hot, as usual, but evergreen leaves bar sun from burning my skin. I lower my gravity center on my knees and quietly crawl up to the fountain. I can finally dip into freshwater and get cool.

...

It was so cold and I couldn't count on a faint sun to warm me. Trees looked unfriendly with all their nude branches spiking thorns and dry barren pikes. Even the dusty ground was covered with brittle desiccated leaves cut like broken glass yet we all had to crawl on our ass downhill. Soon enough our palms were bruised and bleeding but hunger kept us from complaining. In the end it was just tree hugging and back up on the hands in order to get dirty on any inch of our clothes/skin that remained clean ...

Why did energy flow likewise? what is the common trigger of "oceanic" bliss?

It doesn't matter if I'm alone or with a bunch of people, it doesn't matter whether it's cold or hot, dry or humid, in the Pacific ocean or in the middle of a populated capital in central Europe.

I only have to be here, now and WILD.

xx

Moonlight sonata

Have you seen how white moonlight was tonight?

I lost my way while looking too deep in might

It's intoxicating to know you're on the other edge

And ride the wave of life without a heart's pledge

25th Oct.

Superfluous

When desire fades, and pleasure vanishes too soon

When awe and amazement are met by a puzzled gasp

Somewhere on a lonely wander, bright stars

 and comely planets took a serene path

 and lead me to leave.

Ephemeral farewell

**

Crystal sharp blades, icy blowy pools

Swirling feelings splashing our vein

So lame was my thrill kill of fools

And no chemicals will tweak that pain

We swim in the blue numb limbos

Liquefied bodies tamed in crying lye

Hold air until stars dance in your eyes

And skip heartbeats while sound fades

Kiss death an ephemeral farewell

** **

Green bear

You are the dark knight carving my heart as leaf's vennation

Your subtle charms whispered alluringly to my vain passion

Under those clouded skies they relentlessly distil your coinage

And sculpt my dreams as loving centuries whittled that foliage

x

Midnight burnout

Nuptial stars, martial arts

Stretched tearless galaxy 

over nightless love spy

Sad flows, floating canopy

Drifting homeland, useless wand.


x

Now that you're gone my world is blue,

Numbed, flattened pain for no hue,

The happiness factory is shut for true.

Dumped, darkened light for no you,

Sham motivation, tiring aesthetics,

 Painful faces, killing anaesthetics,

Aspiring to rest, radiant peace in sight.

x

E.T.

Longing to fly home, far beyond the stars

Where peeled dome buds bleed glued tars

Crystal time drops and supernovae jets

Fractal lime quenching chillout fest

Hunting arrows aiming within canopy

Flirting sparrows peering unto Cassiopeia

Dragon shells fragmented as my heart

Paragon's hell lamented from afar

x

The willow pond

Filiform trees and sombre flows

Grey shades of lingering winter

Sun dimmed by marching clouds

Sudden breeze unveiling spring

Glistening gold over a liquid mirror

Anamorphosed crescents of hope

Friday, March 9, 2012

Whispering ghosts

There was a time when walls use to talk

A time when heating pipes used to scream

There was a time when roof used to crack

Darkness engulfed in our eyeballs

Loud rapid hearbeats screaming with pain

Fear for life, yet felt so alive

Nothing can compare, hence we feel numb

Above the cliff

One latest frail vow to honour

Ergo, still and peaceful farewell

A kiss, a smile and a golden sunset

Forever within blue horizon kept

I'm just curious where this last path lead, 

and look at the mirror one last time

Bold, brave and tearless, 

content about what's been done.