lunes, 28 de septiembre de 2015

The stick and the carrot. The fear and the love.

Rooms that breathe. Rooms that make music by themselves. How is it possible to dream with a Russian in a floating car, travelling through space? And with that friend offering you to go to Ibiza with a car, music and without his girlfriend? Or with exams that I haven’t prepared because I didn’t know there was an exam? But I was not stressed…

Dreams are just images in our brains that sometimes means something…

Is it glass just gas at a huge pressure? Is it Úbeda a nice place for landing with a floating car after being on the Russian tundra?

Where all these images come from? Where are they stored? When being busy becomes a cure? And when a sickness? Why questions looks like the only answers, but less determinant?

If I am not smart enough to write poetry like the Daodejing, then I will just make questions. Question after question.

Who are you missing? Why don’t you accomplish your routines?

The big from the small. And you start running. Maybe you should start with something smaller. Is it the fear of failure what avoids us to climb?

So far, you are with your three pages and the water. We could add some yoga for today. Fair enough, and that is why you downloaded those apps.

I have the urge of going to the toilet, but, should I go? Is it an urge or a need? If a writer writes 2500 words per day and I just do 900, am I an attempt of a writer?

2500 it is like my three pages three times. Kind of 10 pages a day. It is 1 hour and 40 minutes of raw material, plus hours of typing it and correcting it. Doesn’t it look like too much? Let’s come back to our fears…

Feel, write, and do not think too much. Is it all about surpassing the first moment? That is why it seems good to start from the easy. A thousand miles journey begins on the spot under one’s feet.

It is about having the right motivation. Making your Future You better, not selling yourself, making it easier for your Future You. Become the best of yourself and do it for the world, for the others. Is this love?

That is maybe why a workout doesn’t seems to me like very social directed activity, but rather show off egoistically. Deep inside, writing is for me as much as it is for the others. So, it is reading. But working out, it is a way to look cooler. Nevertheless, I am a dancer and the better my body is prepared, the better I can move, and the better I can teach, and the better I can perform… Therefore, since your body is your tool, it is your job. Shouldn’t you be ethical and do it as best as possible? Shouldn’t you be healthy with yourself?

Right motivations. Fears versus love.

If you don't find the fear in yourself that makes you run away from something, then find the love that can make you move forward, that brings you closer to it. What do you like? Go for the deeper motivation, the deeper origins of your behaviour… The stick and the carrot. The fear and the love.

Reflect and don’t criticize yourself. Don’t be afraid of looking inside, and if you are afraid, it means that you need to find the fear of looking inside. Which demons do you keep there? Which memories? Which parts of yourself do you reject? Why not look where the source is? That place where the solution of your sorrows, the origin of your peace, happiness and success resides… Success, even when is by non-action.

Overcoming fears by asking questions. All the time. Since you wrote that letter. The first or the last? All of your fears have been part of yourself, all those things that have been holding you back. The letters have allowed you to confront them. They have been a way to show your demons to yourself through other people. In this way and under this light, you have been able to change them, to modify them, and to realize that they had been there, hidden deep inside you, all the time.

It is like your multiple egos from the adolescence. Now, that your readers have disappeared from one reason or another, you are publishing more. Now, you ignore who is reading you, if any. However, at the same time, there is this feeling that you can be read by anyone of your previous readers. So somehow, I don’t know. But I think I increase the chances that someone needed to find some meaning for himself or herself in these words.

Am I ultimately overcoming my fear of publishing through publishing? Are all of these topics just excuses to write whatever and post it here? Is it just a way to have something to say? To accomplish one of my resolutions?

The big from the small.

Will all this exposure end up with my deepest secrets hidden by unknown fears, and those untold stories and anecdotes? Who will reveal them? Me? Or will they do it by themselves? Or will they do it through my characters? Through my multiple egos? Through that group of voices from my past that I unified in this self-narrator that needs to write every day? This self-narrator that changes the subjects from the first to the rest of the persons. Arbitrarily, from the you, to the I, to the he, to the us, or the they. Is it dependent on how difficult is to confront the issue? On how much I am scared of what I am writing about? Is it dependent on if the novel of my life is in its bests or its worst? Is it dependent on the ink, on the screen, on the paper, on the keyboard…?


Is it dependent on the arm? Or on the solitary thumbs…?

domingo, 20 de septiembre de 2015

HALF AN HOUR


Don’t worry, bro. Because in half an hour you can be where you want to be.

Start drinking. Dreams are just images in our brains that sometimes may mean something. You didn’t sleep yesterday and that’s why you slept tonight. It’s normal and there’s no one to blame. Ask yourself things like; what do you want to do? Why do you want to do it? What do you do? Why do you do it?

They say they are working on themselves… And when I feel this arrogant pride, this tamed rage from comparing myself to them; compassion pops up saying that it should be the answer. So, compassion.

Right thoughts. Always right thoughts.

Now you publish, you may think that what you write can be read. Therefore, you limit yourself to fit into the general opinion, to fit into the things that can be read.

Is this a new fear? Is it the same fear that doesn’t allow you to follow a daily routine? Why does public opinion matter? Why people used alias all over history? And why superheroes wear masks?

Is this embarrassment? Is it for showing parts of your real self to others? Is this vulnerability? Is this exposition of yourself what you are feeling as dangerous?

Why are other people perceived as dangerous? Are they really a threat for us? I guess they are, or at least they can be. Who is offering you jobs? Who is offering you love? Who is interchanging resources and sharing this planet with you?

Is this fear for survival? Is our brain designed to be scared of scarcity? To be afraid of the lack of resources? Hmmmm… Our brain may be designed to react in this way due to evolutionary learning, and it expresses it through emotions, through fears. Which is okay.

Therefore, compassion again.

Then, our next question in this list should be, is this all rational? Is it helping me to grow? To survive? Is it reducing my suffering? Is it making me a better person for the world? Is it helping me to be happy? To thrive? To flourish?

Is it the ultimate purpose of a human being to survive as a being? To survive as a species? To survive…? Am I a mere animal striving for life? Whatever the quality of my life is?

Or… Or…

Am I something else? Am I a being that doesn’t seek for the amount of life, but for the quality? Is surviving our utmost purpose? Or is it to help transform the world into a better place? To help people, making their lives better? Is the solution of our fears to overcome our individuality? Is it confronting them rationally? Will that make me start thinking that they are actually irrational reactions and that they hinder the ultimate aim of having a positive impact on this society, of offering the best of ourselves to the future?

Am I overcoming my fear of publishing through questions and writing? Or just toying around with some ideas and lots of answers that I completely ignore? Am I doing both? Does everything has an answer?

It has been twenty-two minutes of writing right now. And it can be valuable for twenty-two years and last for twenty-two centuries. Is it all of this worthwhile?  Should I keep on writing or focus on a life that I don’t know what to do with it? A life that I don’t know how to enjoy…

It happens to me those days that I oversleep and I wake up thinking that it is two hours earlier than the actual time. Those days that I don’t set the alarm. Those days that, since I don’t have anything to do, or I cannot think about anything better to do, I carry out my morning routine and the resolutions that I was procrastinating.

Drink water, write, stretch, workout… So far, I have just done part of the first two and I have the will of doing some of the others. But, will the urge of publishing what is already written hinder my intentions and change my future? Will my body complain about not treating it correctly?

It is Denmark. I sleep on a couch when I don’t do it on the floor. I write on a small bookshelf filled with clothes because in this room there is just a low table. I should exercise more, stretching more, publishing more, write more, read more, and study more. Yesterday, I loved a lot. It makes me wonder if that is the only reason for not being in a depressive mood today.

It is raining.

It can be a baby; a half Philippine in her thirties; her boyfriend, the Zimbabwean teacher awarded for his lifetime’s work; or his mother, who turns out to be the baby’s mother’s mother, that just seeks for someone to speak with.

The mother and the daughter, twice.  From the granddaughter to the grandmother. Love is intergenerational, interracial. It is all about speaking, about looking into each other’s eyes, and feel that we do it for the others, that we don’t do it for ourselves, that we are going further than our limited being, our limited life.

The time is over. Half an hour is gone. Going further than ourselves…? Was that what this is all about? Have I written all this thanks to not looking to my smartphone just right after waking up?