Sometimes I feel so much love. It fills my chest and runs to every single last cell in my body, head to toe, tips of fingers and under nails, it’s so strong and so concrete it’s almost palpable. And it feels like love. I think it’s my love for the universe, for life, for being alive, for feeling so completely, I think it’s my love for me, for my story that brought me here, despite everything, to this point where my body is still capable of being flooded by love, and the immense gratitude that comes from deep within that my heart (and toes and tips of fingers) can still feel all this. Despite all the times I have been hurt. Despite the many nights I have cried in despair and utter loneliness. Despite the deepest wound that was my Father’s passing so very many years ago. I am still standing. And still kicking. And still capable of such incommensurable love that could fill the whole world or the whole room and that could enhibriate a worthy lover were such gods living on my bed (how I understand you Florbela Espanca, about gods and mere men*). I am. Therefore I am thankful. This ball is mine for the taking.
It is a huge human sacrifice militaries and their families are asked to make when countries are active in war and they just shouldn’t be. But it is not to ensure the freedom and safety of Americans. American freedom is ensured by its Constitution and has been for many many a decade. It is to ensure the wealth of fat old men at the top of the food chain. Or why do you think Iraq was fought? Why do you think Angola was manipulated into 25 years of civil war? And so many other places? Americans and the world would be a lot safer if so many resources were not spent meddling in international politics (and complicated age-old human realities they cannot possibly begin to understand the many nuances to) since WWII. 9/11 simply wouldn’t have happened for example. Just wouldn’t. No amount of money is worth a single human life. Not American lives. Not non-American lives. Wake up World!! It is just not right to believe in the myth that it is freedom that soldiers fight and die for. It is just wrong to teach it to our children; they fight for greedy manipulative old men at the top of the foodchain and the money in their pockets. And the freedom talk is a very very wrong lullaby. Please stop believing in it!
Is he really to blame or should we instead blame the fact that 50,000 people wanted to cross the Mediterranean safely and could only trust horrible resources because no safe official boats will take them?
Let’s tell our governamental we’ve had enough of setting people up to die
So your parents didn’t love each other. Well, not bidirectionally anyway. Barely had time to notice you or your brother growing up among all the fighting. Your infancy was full of thinking your world might implode any moment now.
This makes your concept of love. For a while you think you can outrun it and maybe make a normal life. Then one disillusionement. Then another. And your brain figured it out. There is no such thing as love. Not for you anyway. Maybe for people who had it easy playing with dolls. Everyone is a disappointment sooner or later. And the best you can do for yourself is suck it up and enjoy life. Travel, enjoy your cognitions, your work, your passing friends, the sun on your face, bet of self-development, more meditation, who knows maybe even nirvana, cut your ties with the past and keep walking. It’s what we’re on earth for anyway.
So you met a girl. And it is the time for the first kiss in intimacy. And to envelop her in slowly in a velvety smog of warmth and trust that makes her slowly want to blossom into your hands and give herself to you heart and soul and most importantly full-bodily.
So what do you do? Smother her with the pressings of your desire? Go for a hand, catch a glimpse of a breast, steal a squeeze of her bump, in a dance that is way out of sync with hers, that she eventually relinquishes to out of tiredness? Or wait patiently thoroughly enjoying what she has already given and wanting the next thing only when you feel her quaver for it as well?
The most seductive moment of my life happened with my Greek ex of a 4.5 years relationship. First kiss. Lasted 4 hours. At a point I was so far gone into another realm of perception that I looked at him from the top of my bent backwards neck, found his lips on my chest and thought “uauh, you’re here too!”. I had all my clothes on and his hands or any other of his body parts had been nowhere people might call “sexual”. And right there and then I knew I was his. Through thick or thin.
Before we got to that though, at a point he slowly moved the strap of my braw just a little off my shoulder. It was a cute little strap with two strands. I wasn’t ready yet for that, so without stopping the kiss a moment later I pulled one of the strands up. Yet another moment later, in the same sweet rhythm, he pulled the other one up too! So wonderful to be wanted without rush, without having someone else’s rhythm imposed on me. Sensuality, as dance, is about coordinating with each other’s rhythms and tuning into a dance that is made of your blood flow and mine, a song all our very own.
And yes, we slept together that very night. And many others after that. And I never felt he had come to just take and plunder and not give. And sensuality, sexuality and delight never stopped flowing between us. And even when other things made it all fall apart, I still look back at that night and think “that’s just how it should be”.
Learn to dance with your woman. You can if you let it. Flow with it.
How you put it is how it stays. If you always place your buddy in your underwear in the same position, when it gets happy and inflates it’s going to have the most common shape it has at rest. If that was tilted to the left, it will be tilted to the left. If you rest it tilted to the right, it will tilt to the right in passion too. Apart from unesthaetic, when you enter your loving woman, it will reach her only to one side. And that can be frustrating for her. And for you: think of all the fun her other side might have offered you if only you could reach it.
Upright avoids silly tilts, but is not ideal either, as it will end up challenging your ability to embrace different angles.
What you want is diversity: one day to the right, another to the left, one day upright, the next downwards. Let your baby find comfort in any direction and when it grows all proud it will be able to explore your Lady’s entrails in all directions too, wherever she’d like you to tickle her today, wherever you’d like to get to.
Good luck 🙂
Today on Facebook I spoke up. For the first time I spoke up in a public forum of continental Portuguese about their selfishness and the sheer evil of the decolonisation process. Dad would have been proud, he would have felt just a little bit vindicated. The writer of the text answered, she agreed, she spoke of the horror we created, they created, cos we, my family and millions of others, were the victims. And other people’s comments ended. I am PROUD
One day I would like to write a book. To speak to all my parents friends and collect their stories. I heard them once. Amazing stories of fleeing with the clothes of their bodies into cars with children and no food and driving nonstop to the border and waiting for days for the boat to get them, praying the boat would arrive before the army on their backs. And the man who killed his dog single-handedly cos the dog was covered in blood after leaving him home alone with his sleeping daughter for a few minutes. Distraught he ran to his daughter’s room thinking he’d find her dead and he found a dead black man instead, in his daughter’s room, killed by his hero dog. The man’s cries of pain for the dog were… And my cousin who was about to get abducted for being blond and pretty and had to flee straight to the airport, after spending the night hiding in my father’s rooftop, cos my father’s sofa was not safe enough. And my father’s best friend, whose wheelchaired father and car disappeared, probably murdered by one of the many black fighter patrols on the side of some road. The pain in my father’s friends eyes lives there still.
Portugal was the only country who still had colonies. Not because it woke up late to the virtues of non-imperialism, like some over-simplistic Dane once told me. But because it was the only Imperial country who was not in WWII. And therefore who had no trouble maintaining an economic health all the other European countries would have loved to have gone on keeping if only they could. And this was a threat. It was a threat to US and Russian domination over post WWII European debris. They had to make sure there was no going back to gold standard, to not USD standard, for any of us. So they sponsored armies against Portugal, one army each, UNITA and NPLA in Angola, similarly in Mozambique, US and USRR sponsored. And they invented a war. I was born in paradise, a paradise where people had jobs and flowers grew in the side lanes. They made it a war zone of holes on the ground and blood everywhere. And when Continental Portuguese finally said “screw them all” and pulled out and left us all to die, white and black, the World cheered a joyful cry in favour of Democracy and Freedom, oh ignorants, the only conclusion to that was the US and USSR sponsored armies went on killing each other for 25 years. Whites fleed wherever their passports would take them; non-whites were left behind to die. And die they did. Or got eaten by poliomilities or starvation or each other’s guns. “Oh it’s the African way, elasse” said the World, oversimplistically again, lulled from the controlled news it saw. It’s not. It’s the result of US and Russian intervention in the world, the same that later created havoc in the Arab world, the same that now has people blowing themselves up in our cities, a policy of selfishness and short term view of saving a dollar and “fuck all that aren’t us”. The same policy that created a divided world of rich and poor and a Globalisation we all hate, well all that are not in power that is.
We exist in three dimensions: the body, the mind and the soul. They are not independent, but instead are one same structure, with manifestations along the three dimensions. The correspondence is precise.
That is why you often see people in pain who are also perturbed in their emotions that day. Or people who live in negative thoughts and develop diseases to go with it.
I heard of a man who was in a concentration camp in the II World War. In his old age he has cancer and doctors are examining to see whether it is pancreatic or liver. Liver is the area of forgiveness (or lack thereof). Pancreas is the area of anger. How could he have forgiven? How could he have found peace after that? But because he hasn’t, the emotion gets stored in an area of the inconsciente so the brain doesn’t have to deal with it and can keep us functional. The inconsciente is the body. The area for that type of emotion is the liver.
For breasts it’s goals and self-pride. For womb it’s femininity. The cervix is associated with the heart. Cervix problems mean there is likely a dissociation between sensuality and feminine emotion and love. Resonate with our day-in-age of disengagement? And the epidemia that is going about of cervix HPV. 80% of women get HPV once in their lives and of course similar proportions of men, except they can’t die from it, women can.
The shoulders are burdens. The lower back is sadness. The heart is impatience and anxiety. The knees and legs are the foundation of the being. The left side overall your relationship with yourself, the right your relationship with the world.
The issues with the body appear as the emotions appear or vice-versa, chicken and egg, because they are manifestations of the same reality, a closed system.
And so, in order to get rid of the problem and heal, you can do it from any of the three angles, or all of them at once. Combining massage and meditation, understanding the emotional conditions that brought about your illness. What is your body trying to tell you? What are you doing / denying / feeling that is hurting it?
If you take just a material approach to it, you miss out on handling the reasons that brought about the disease. Areas of the body that store negative emotions do not get adequately fed of blood and chi and energy, your brain just can’t reach them the same, hence disease arriving. If you cut out that part of your body, fine, but your brain still can’t get to it. And often cure is temporary.
If you just take a psychological approach to healing, you often never truly heal either. Psychotherapy is awesome to get things started, but it itself admits it can’t reach the inconsciente, except sporadically. It can’t because inconsciente emotions are stored in the body and the brain is good with ignoring them. NLP (neuro-linguistic programming) is a bit better. It combines words with tapping specific Accupuncture points in the body and therefore you can sometimes get a deeper response. I once healed a psychological trauma with a self-back massage. I massaged the muscle that stored the memories of my father’s death and my divorce. Just behind the pancreas it stored huge anger (death of loved ones does bring about anger, I’m afraid); a bit lower, huge sadness. I massaged the whole lower left side of my back, from ribs to hips, from spine to end of me, until every naught was gone, as deep as I could go. At times I was overwhelmed with emotion that I had to leave the area and return to it later. But I didn’t give up. After that, my boyfriend of 4.5 years could get as angry with me as he wanted, I never had these muscles spasm again, like they used to at the very start of every fight. And I started managing to stand up to him so much more. Cos I wasn’t afraid of losing him no more. Cos the emotional wound of the death of my loved ones was no longer a scar in my body. I healed body and soul and spirit. With a deep self-massage. The only true way to heal, in all three dimensions.
So if you are sick or in pain, stop, listen, analyse, hear about body theories (Taoism, body reading, chakra healing, shamanism). Do meditation, peace yourself down, understand the body map against your personal history, understand which emotional wounds you avoided or handled wrong, how your body and soul and emotions need changing. By all means visit the doctor and discover which options he has for you too. But don’t approach it unidirectionally, it’s a three dimensional system.
It seems like a new age topic, of the whole of the last century, aren’t you tired yet? And every so often you see a bunch of women meeting to discuss ‘Women in Techology’, ‘Women in the job market’. They get together and discuss how men oppress us and how our salaries are lower and blablabla play the victim role so well they even believe it!
I can tell you two things about that. Too many women are too happy getting paid for drinks and dinners and trips and flats and mink coats. Not just getting but demanding them. And feeling unloved if they don’t. How convenient. Too many women in too many cultures are happy to have their boyfriends and husbands pay for their education and to stay home and look after the kids, delegating on the sucker the responsibility to worry about how to provision for a bunch of people for the rest of their lives. Too many women are happy to keep 50% on the divorce settlement, 50% of all the money the guy made while they stayed at home and grew fat and complained. Cos yes too many women are happy to complain an awful lot. At how they are not recognised by society. They are happy to deny their exs the right to see their own children enough, as if they didn’t know a child getting on with their father matters to the child even more than to the father! And all this is protected by law in the UK! A feminist (?????!!!!) law that considers women too idiotic to fend for themselves. And they believe it! And meet to complain about it from the top of the tight dresses and high heals from which they accept yet another free drink at the local pub and call themselves feminists, dispensing sex like pills over a counter, cos that’s how little they think of themselves. Too many women are happy to take the role of high pay prostitutes. And not even very good at it. Cos in the middle of all the selfish complaining there is very little actual femininity, actual caring loving attitude, any ability to give and to receive.
I pay for my own drinks, my own flights, I work and no man is going to put me under his financial dependency, why would I do that to myself?!! Or to him?!! Or to us?!! My man, as my equal, is expected to keep me happy between the sheets and stand proud by my side when we walk down the street. And hug me tight if I fall ill. And split the dinner bill. And that’s that!
And at work? I never put myself in the poor little girl position! Much less the pretty little girl attitude! “Yes I’m a woman, so?!” is my attitude. I speak to anyone any age any gender as equals! Anyone! Cos we’re all human and no matter how important we’ve become, people love being recognised for their humanity! “I’ve been hired for this position, you can convince me I’m wrong, but you can’t impose me I’m wrong”. But a lot of women don’t do this, they don’t stand up for themselves in the only moment it matter, eye to eye, in the stand up for themselves moment. So they complain ever after. It’s human nature, or just nature, that you must get people’s respect by standing your ground the first few seconds/minutes of conversation. Minutes. Hold their gaze up proud. Smile. Speak with confidence. Never ever think of your gender! Just a proud worthy human with maybe great ideas, maybe less great, we’ll see, but just as worthy anyway. Do your homework and go for it. If you believe it, if you really believe in yourself, why won’t they? And you get the respect. And eventually the salary that goes with it. Because you’re worth it! And thanks feminism for me.
They lie, they steal, they lay the burden on you, the techniques differ but every so often a man with a big heart pours his silences open to you and eye in eye searches with starvation for a speck of soul him and his wife lost ever so long ago. Arm in arm and eye in eye, slippery slope after slippery slope that he carefully lays for you, you think you are discovering love all over again, with an intensity you knew was possible but had forgotten existed.
Yet the intensity leads nowhere. The huge wave dies off at the beach. You wind up alone and your man uses all that creativity and light he stole from you to rekindle his own sex life and his emotional life back home. You could almost say the unfaithfulness was his most faithful act. And breaking your heart, knowingly, planned, coldly, was “the right thing to do” and just couldn’t be helped. Oh the irony. Oh the coward.
Girls, if you see lingering eyes offering the water you’ve been drenching for in this crazy big desert of a world, steer clear, it’s a nasty mirage that wants to suck you dry and spit you out, go to the beach instead.