Tag: writing

The echo is fading

The echo of my upbringing

The melody of my home

The beat for control and safety 

The voice of the strong

.

The righteousness of virtue 

The power of the right path

The morality of good people 

The perfect package for the world 

.

The echo is humming 

The old song is fading

Safety long gone

The old voice a whisper 

.

Virtues have been debated 

The right path was left 

Morality has eroded 

The package got broken 

.

The echo turns into memory 

The song got a new rhythm 

The search for safety into surrender 

The voice became my own

.

Virtues turned into intuition 

The path leads to me 

Morality into knowing 

No package longer needed 

The whisper of Macbeth

A deep voice

A calm deep voice and a present mind

Made me exhale

Made me realise

That I am still on my path

That I have not arrived

To the place I wish

To the feeling I need

To the people who see

To those who have time

The painfully sharp contrast, like a black tree against the evening sun, between where I am and where I wish to be

carves a scar into my heart

A bit sick at heart I continue my walk

With every step, I feel

My painful longing for

a work, a place, a stage, a studio, a garden a couch

Where people have time

Where they speak with a calm voice and present mind

The voice called me home

With patience for details and

With a luxurious amount of time to talk about the unseen

The superstition and the past

The whisper of Macbeth

The voice called me again

To a world of magic, to a world of the unseen

The present mind, an invitation

The description of sound on stage; a sign

Bring me back to me, I beg

Bring me home to me, I adjure

I exhale

And I see

That I am there

That I have the time

that my voice is calm and my mind at peace

where was I?

Why again? Was I caught up in doing all these things I don’t want to do

But the world tells me to do

So, I can finally do what I want to do

To talk with a calm voice

To have a present mind

To recall moments of lights on stage

To speak to people who see

About things that matter

Like the sound of a butterfly

A glimmer of a teardrop

The superstition and the past

The witches in Macbeth

Your deep voice

Brought me back to me

And I feel what I need to feel

To know that it’s here

My table, my home, my laptop my work

My calm voice

My patience for details

My lavish use of time for things that matter

my muddy, dark green freedom

What was I looking for when I decided to move to the land of wet, cold, and rainy Sundays? What was I hoping to achieve when I packed my suitcases with determination and flew here in a pre-pandemic easiness? But more importantly, what was I trying to escape from? 

I count myself very privileged to have the audacity to make life-decisions simply based on dreams and hopes.  Some years later, I am now walking the dogs through very wet and muddy, dark green park scenery: Isn’t this the freedom I wanted, only a little colder? 

It certainly feels like I am experiencing British life at its best. After the walks, I come home to an old-fashioned high-pitched tone of a boiling kettle; doesn’t it sound like my new definition of success?

Feeling the warmth of the oven, sipping on my de-caff while looking into a wonderful winter garden; isn’t this my goal? Isn’t it here in the stronghold of cosiness where my heart can heal, and I can stubbornly ignore my financial situation to allow myself to live a life of illusion? The illusion I created smells of fresh coffee, biscuits, and a hint of freedom. Which is, considering that we are living in a time where freedom has become debatable and reconstructed, quite a big achievement. 

Didn’t I manage to escape the world of predefined values, a world where opinions are needed and fired at each other as though on a battlefield? 

My sweet little rebellious life has a newly added sound of a snoring dog in the background and a view onto a winter garden. I marvel at my illusion – for a little while at least.  I wallow in the false feeling of freedom until I get reminded that money is still required in this world.

I got my ego back, and I love it!

I must have lost it in the deep end of spirituality. I must have thought that my ego is too heavy, too old, too stubborn, too competitive and far too masculine. So I dropped it; life got lighter but not very much brighter, I felt softer and more vulnerable, tearful, sensitive and lost. I embarked on a wonderful horrific adventure through the fog of my own self, I tapped in the dark and bumped on old pains, discovered my scars and I felt the throbbing pain of my stitches. A true adventure it was, indeed. Equipped with only a  little light of understanding I explored the painfilled caves of my ancestors; overwhelmed by the discoveries I fainted and was unable to carry my burial hoards. But brave as a woman on a mission, I recovered and decided that I have to bring them up to the light and the fresh air, so eventually I could breathe again. I wasn’t strong, I wasn’t well equipped, I walked on the last string of courage only accompanied by a little glimpse of hope that this all will make sense one day. I shouldered my heavy painful fundings and walked the lonely long path back up to the bright daylight. The pain didn’t turn into gold as it does in the fairytales. Instead, I turned into a stronger me with every step I made out of the shadows. I cleared the fog, I constructed myself, I fixed my mind, I healed the stitches, I outshined the past. I realised the power of my thoughts and the strength of a decision. I honoured my emotions and their magic. Today, I am choosing new colours for my ego, like choosing a summer dress. 

 

A love letter in times of crisis

My dear, dear beloved one!
I am writing to you in times of troubles, in times of big uncertainty and in a time of fear for so many.
Even for me, it’s difficult to keep on laughing. And I am the last optimist on the boat, described once by an astrologer as “you are still laughing even when the Titanic is sinking”. Believe me, the ship is sinking, we just don’t know on what ground we will hit.
But I am not here to tell you about my sorrows; I am here to tell you how much my love for you really means to me. The singing of your birds gives me hope, the blossom of the trees touches my heart, seeing your flowers bloom gives my joy and all the colours are lifting my spirit. And your fruits, oh god, your fruits they taste like heaven!
You, wonderful, strong and everlasting Earth. You are still standing and turning, continuing to be, watching our lives shattering and our little concepts of daily life falling apart. You, you do your big job keeping on turning in your own rythmen, you send us more sunshine than ever, you give us fresh air to breath. And trust me on this, everyone is now grateful for the air their breathing.
Your love is solid, our love in return is a bit immature. Or toxic, if you ask me. I am not sure if you are familiar with the concept of toxic relationships patterns; it simply means you hurt that what you love. And that’s exactly what we did, the last hundred years or so. I sincerely want to apologize for how we treated you, in such horrible ways. Honestly, I think you have every right to be angry. We are already sitting in our rooms, thinking of what we have done to you, to us, to your global community.
Dear beloved one, your power and beauty are undeniable; you can send us storms and viruses. You could just slightly change your speed, or the degree of your axes and we would either drop off like flies or burn like dust. Please don’t do that, give us a second chance and let us live her a little longer. I love you, we are loving you and we are ready to change, we are capable of learning new behaviours. We are even ready to go to therapy because we understand this relationship matters. It’s existential for us because we need you. Your fresh air, your sun, your fruits.
I know, it’s not very sexy to be soo needy, it might be a huge turn-off for you. But please, be patient with us, we are going through a crisis, we will adapt, we will learn, we want to make it right this time. We will cooperate and work it out, so we can have a healthy relationship in which both of us are thriving!
Thank you so much for your love, your existence then without you, we wouldn’t be.
Love of my life! I will love you until the rest of my days and not even death can tire us apart.
My biggest efforts, my deepest gratitude and my everlasting love will go to you!
Forever yours,
Therese
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written for the Earth day on the 22 of April 2020. #letterstotheEarth