Friday, November 07, 2014
Thursday, October 02, 2014
Monday, September 15, 2014
A new plane ticket. Direction: Kathmandu. Everything is packed, ready to go. The train from Normandie to Paris, the RER to the airport. All is fine, it's time to fly again. All is ready, except for one thing. In line for checking the bags in, I realise that I forgot my passport. God damned, first time I do this one. Some would say it's a sign, I did not really want to go, or I simply should not go. People like to see signs, trying to find meanings in the chaos we call life. Things have to make sense many think in despair, hold on to anything, anything at all, but hold on, do anything you can not to let the vast emptiness of it all swallow you in the river of meaninglessness. Sunyata whispers, samadhi some call it, so many names to name the unknown.
So, I forgot my passport, that's enough sense for me, shit happens when we don't check twice. Take the train back to Normandie, buy a new tiket, kiss mam again, train again, RER, and 3 days laters I am back in line at the airport. This time I get on the plane. I'll remember not to make that mistake twice. Lesson of the day: a plane ticket. Learning always has a price, being absent minded comes with extra tax.
Friday, August 15, 2014
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
"The grass is not greener on the other side, it's green where you water it."
After my visit to the island, I went to the garden. I wanted to learn permaculture techniques, so I found a teacher and a garden to work in. The garden was huge and the teacher was a contemporary painter and a great gardener who has devoted 20 years of her life to make the garden what it is today. A quiet woman, she knew all the plants and gladly shared her knowledge with me. We have to be greatful for our teachers, and I thank this woman for being my permaculture teacher and friend, an amasing artist who I am glad and extremely lucky to have shared some time with. Her philosphy is simple and best: Art is life, Life is art. She knew I needed to put my hands in the earth, I wanted to be outside the whole day and make the body move. I wanted to hang out with the birds and drink fresh water. I needed to do Gaia Yoga, so in the garden I was...
Wednesday, July 09, 2014
I took the big jump and I dove inside. I landed on what seemed to be an island. I was on a white sand beach, blue crystally water waves making sweet love to the land. In and out, in and out they went. The light was bright in the sky, shining of an almost synthetic glow. As I looked up in the sky, I saw that it was moving and changing constantly. I started seing images passing, and the images became scenes from movies. The sky appeared as a giant technicolor screen on which were playing all the movies, books, and information I gathered through my life. After a while I got up on my feet, and I started walking.
Monday, June 02, 2014
Sunday, June 01, 2014
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Gurdjieff has divided art into two categories. The modern art he calls subjective art. The ancient art — the real art — the people who made the pyramids, the people who made the Taj Mahal, the people who made the caves of Ajanta and Ellora, they were of a totally different kind. He calls that art objective art. Subjective art is like vomiting. You are feeling sick, nauseous; a good vomit helps you to feel good. The poison is thrown out, you feel relieved. It is good for you, but not good for others. Now, in the name of modern painting, you are hanging vomited, nauseous, sickening things in your rooms. In the name of modern music you are simply getting into crazier spaces within you. It is subjective art. Modern art is childish — not childlike, remember, childish; not innocent but stupid, insane, pathological.
Saturday, May 10, 2014
"Amongst millions of the poor, Shakyamuni was son of the rich. His father, the king, gave him all: a palace surrounded by wonderful gardens, the best foods, luxurious clothing, the most beautiful bride, hundreds of servants. Locked up in his luxury prison, he did not know the servants misery. All of the sudden, like a little bird that fell on his head, the futur buddha, just like a girl, was taken by a panic attack... Reality was not what he believed it to be!
Saturday, May 03, 2014
"But says Alice, if the world makes absolutely no sense,
what keeps us from inventing one?"
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Friday, April 18, 2014
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
It’s been a long time since I wrote. It’s not from a lack of something happening, on the contrary. Too much has happened, too much at the same time, way too much. So when we get a big meal to digest, we need to sit, time to digest. So I sat, I digested for a long winter the new events that are unfolding in my life. Death in the form of the lung cancer of my dad, love in the form of separation from a husband, 6 years passed, it all fell apart in one instant and I found myself back in my home land after 25 years of exil, back at ground zero to witness the ravages of cancer at my parents house. What happened? What did I do to get to this place?