It's all about being seen...

When I first started my blog I didn't mind not having readers. It was about writing and "getting it out of my chest" sort of thing. But let's be honest: it is nice to have readers, comments, from those who just pass by and don't stay because it's not their cup of tea and from those who come back regularly because they find their bread and butter in our words...

So when I just find out about this viralink thing on A modern Goddess Online, I went to the creator's website to see how this thing works and I just loved Andy's "chemical structures" showing the growing networking... so I thought I'd give it a go. It's all about being seen and coming as close to the top of the page as possible!

Here are the instructions

Below is a matrix of 100 stars, I have already added a link to my blog onto one of the stars, all you need to do is copy and paste the grid into your blog and add your own link to one of the other spare stars, and tell others to do the same!

Viralink

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Next you need to tell others to do the same!

Still shaken

Something happened 2 days ago and I'm still wondering what to do about it... Rewind.

I received a short video on my personnal email at work and as it was funny and about rugby I forwarded it to two of my colleagues I know would enjoy it. A couple of minutes later, I jumped on my chair as one of them says, "that's your blog!". My heart skipped a beat then raced away to catch up with that missing one... I had forwarded the email quickly and left my signature at the bottom of it. And it includes my blog's link!

I was left speechless. It was so obvious that she offered not to look at it. A voice within was screaming, "don't, please don't and genuinely forget about it!" This place is very much my own private garden and I don't mind unknown people, invited friends and family reading my posts and discover who I am as I go along but not work colleagues, however close we can be. Somehow my reaction made me realise how much I hide all this from people at work and how much I put a mask on every morning when I pass the door...

I feel she could read me like an open book and I'm terrified that it could hit me back and I would get hurt. In a way I don't feel strong enough to show my inner life, I feel very tender inside and vulnerable and this is no time to being hurt. Yet this "mistake" happened and I can't help thinking that there might be a reason for it. Maybe I am ready to take the mask off for good? Right now I'm torn and we haven't come back to that subject. Do we need to? Do I need to know whether she reads me or not? I've got no idea... I guess I'll leave it at that for now, unless or until something else happened!!

Music day / fête de la musique

Today is the summer solstice, the longest time of daylight in the year, the start of a new season that will (hopefully) bear the fruits of all the transformations, hard work, emotions we went through and experienced over the previous spring season.

Does it really matter if it is warm and sunny outside as long as it is within allowing the fruits to ripen? Of course it'd be nicer to see blue skyes, to leave the jacket in the cupboard, to go home late in the evening and meet people having a chat on their doorstep rather than being locked in behind their doors...

Today was summer solstice and it was the third "fête de la musique" in London. A celebration as we enter summer. Born in 1982 in France, it has become increasingly popular and I've heard now exists in 43 countries. According to Wikipedia, New York City was having its first one today! Never too late to bring good things in the US, even if French!

I remember the ones in France many moons ago. Anyone and everyone out in all cities, towns or villages either listening or playing, singing or dancing or laughing, really celebrating summer and music. People would get their "reserved" area (on a first come first serve basis!) on a pavement, in the corner of a square and they would start playing. There was no rule, you just couldn't get it wrong. You'd hear the 5 years old child and 20m away a group of late teenagers playing hard-rock music; carry on walking to the next street and that would become a quatuor or a choir of gospels; stop for a while if you like it, move on when you've had enough or if your legs need exercice and you'll hear religious songs before the encounter with the most fashionable rapper you've ever seen in you rlife... and the list goes on until late during the night when small groups gather together, sit down, give cigarettes to each other and feel that really, that night was even better than all previous years put together! Of course, it'll be true next year, too... What beauty, hey!

This 3rd edition in London was my first and maybe because I didn't open my heart to it, I was disappointed. Everything was extremely well organised, marquees were put up, sound systems tested, programmes were followed to the minute, you knew exactly what to expect, even the lack of enthusiasm (at least where I was tonight...). I know things are become so huge in France that programmes are put out, too with big names and professionals, too. But you'll always find that "French flair" or wild side in it that surprises you somehow and draws a smile on your face and imprints a memory in your brain. I missed that tonight!

I might take the Eurostar to Paris or Lille next year!

Dans mon coeur

Dans mes souvenirs les plus vivants
elle a toujours été là
pour offrir
le carambar interdit par les parents
pour jouer
à la crapette inlassablement
faire cuire
un vrai chocolat chaud la nuit du nouvel an
pour envoyer
à chaque anniversaire un petit mot écrit si gentillement

Dans la vie d'hier, d'aujoud'hui et de demain
elle est toujours là
pour entendre
d'une oreille attentive les secrets des uns et des autres sortis de l'ombre
pour tenir
ses promesses et un silence d'outre-tombe
pour poser
les questions auxquelles on n'a pas forcément envie de répondre
pour s'inquiéter
que tout va pour le mieux dans le meilleur des mondes

Après avoir retrouver tous nos ancêtres et bon-papa
elle sera toujours là
pour prêter
un sourire ou une main tendue dans les moments de détresse
pour m'aider
à sortir d'une récurrente tristesse
pour me rappeler
que sur mon chemin il y aura toujours une déesse
pour ouvrir
son bric-à-brac de cabas qui bédorde de tendresse

In the shadow of fear

I didn't listen to my inner voice this morning. Waking up at 7.30am on a Saturday was too early for my reasonable mind, "I was so tired last night, must try to get more sleep". But a small voice was telling me I could get up and go back to bed later in the day if needed. I didn't. I finally got up at 9.30am and surfed on the Internet for a while. Then, this is where it becomes interesting, because I have stopped writing for the last 15min... "no, i cannot write what I want to write, not here"... but also, "well, if I don't write about it, then the post won't make any sense what so ever"... The conflict was raging within as I went back surfing and I am now about to dive into the unknown, the unacceptable, the unspeakable - maybe I should prevent this post to be accessed by anyone underaged...

9.30am it was, looking on the Internet for images of polar bear, meanings of this majestic animal in shamanism and symbols in analytical psychology. I won't go into the reasons behind this search now but I hope to do so in the future. I liked what I read and particularly the idea of mothering - apparently mother bears are very protective mothers for their cubs and very gentle and patient but also very fierce in making sure nothing happens to them. I kept having images coming to my mind and as I was sitting on my bed I started to feel sexually aroused. My nipples were calling for gentle strokes and I happily answered their request. So much so that I ended up putting the laptop away and giving myself all the attention required. I believe that was a turning point.

A while later I covered myself with my duvet again and went back to "sleep" for an hour, fully aware that it wasn't what I wanted. Yet I couldn't move, I was stuck there by some kind of greater strength, there was nothing I could do to fight it. It took me a little while to recognise it and name it: overwhelming numbness! This shadow of fear is well known to me, being almost ever present for many many years! I tried to make it move in my body, to give it life but it wouldn't work. Finally I knew what I had to do: I had to give it life in words. And what better place than here?!

Yet I'm not sure what made it visit me today. But as I write these words I can hear "of course you do", and indeed I do know. Yes it has to do with the physical and sexual pleasure I gave myself earlier but it is not the whole story either, this was only the trigger. It comes back to a dream I had early this week which we expanded a little yesterday with my analyst. In that dream I give birth to a tiny little boy and in my old bedroom at my parents' I unwrap him from a wolf-like fancy dress outfit that is zipped on his back from head to toe. This baby boy is relying on me to get fed, protected, be loved nurtured and mothered and to grow enough before he can go alone onto his own path. At this very moment in time, he is extremely vulnerable and this is exactly how I feel, vulnerable. I feel that anything and anyone could very easily crush me.

So I keep swinging between the old pattern where I am in charge (or so I think) and so well protected that no one can even dream of touching my heart and a new opening where I accept my vulnerability and do all I can to protect myself from what I believe may be attacks, trying to keep the doors open for others to get in. The difficulty is that I am even scared of people who love me... As Tiffanie puts it in her post Cities, I wish I will visit the place called Trust sometime soon.

A Bonne-Maman

Depuis son fauteuil
Elle n'entend plus bien
Ses oreilles bien rangées dans le tiroir de sa table de chevet

Somnolant à moitié
Les heures défilent
Lentement ou à pas de geant selon qu'elle a des visites ou pas

Ni-assise et ni-allongée
Parfois elle s'arrête de parler
Par choix, de fatigue ou simplement parce que tout a déjà été dit

Acceptant et exposant sa fragilité
Elle reste belle
Coiffée de son élégante chevelure blanchie par les années

Jamais très grande et maintenant tassée
Elle reste digne
Même si ses muscles ont récemment décidé qu'ils en avaient eu assez

Aujourd'hui à 95 ans
Elle reste le pilier
Auquel tout un chacun vient encore s'amarrer

Je l'aime aujourd'hui
Comme je l'ai toujours aimée
Mais j'ai enfin trouvé les mots pour le lui dire et l'écrire

Quand il sera temps qu'elle rejoignent ses ancêtres
Je demande aux alliés de ce monde et de l'autre
De lui prendre la main et de l'accompagner avec amour
Pour qu'elle parte en joie et en paix

A not so random Wednesday morning

Yes, I did wake up early this morning, as planned. I thought I'd spend most of my extra hour on this blog... well, I didn't and it is now almost time for me to get ready for work. Actually it IS time to start getting ready, so I suppose I might have to rush somehow because I still want to spend a few more minutes here, sitting on my bed with my fingers running (slowly, I must admit) on the keyboard...

So what is it that is so important that I have to say?
I love mornings, these quiet times when hardly any cars can be heard, the neighbours are quiet, the bell church doesn't ring just yet, the sun begins its slow ascent bathing an ever increasing part of the brick wall opposite my window... I have always loved mornings but have found it difficult to even contemplate waking up for long periods of time. I remember these times when I still lived at my parents' and I would get up a 6am and run to the stables, spending hours, days and weeks helping out cleaning it and the horses. My parents complained that I was taking thier home for a hotel: they were right because I would be coming back only to eat and sleep during holiday...

Only time will tell whether this early morning will be one of many, the beginning of a new period where I take time for myself before going to a job that does not fulfil me any longer but which I am not prepared to leave just yet...

I want to thank myself for listening (and finding answers) to my needs.

Tower bridge round the corner

Tonight, I walked with my close friend Rosa to the flat I'm in the process of buying, show her what it looks like from the outside. On walking back, I left her walk to London Bridge to get her bus home and I walked across Tower Bridge to go my way home... I felt really excited about living so close to the river Thames and the major landmark of London. It was a wonderful feeling to imagine that I'd be walking it twice a day to get to work!

I hadn't been back that way since I first viewed the flat and it felt great!

Not here to be loved - French film

I have come out of the cinema with a feeling of sadness. I watched "Not here to be loved", a French film relating the meeting of two unhappy people - one middle age man who has never voiced his anger at not been seen by his father and is full of resentment and a woman in her 30s maybe, who is going to get married to a man who is Self-obsessed and doesn't give a dam about her. They meet on a dance floor, taking tango lessons.

At first I didn't understand why I felt sad. Then I came back "home", my ex-partner's flat where I live in at the moment while he's away having a brilliant time in South America for 6 months. There I let the tears flow and I heard them say "I don't want to leave this place, I feel home, it's a nice flat". I welcomed these tears of grief and gave myself to them for a while. Then I felt I had to write and an uninterrupted flow of words poured out into my book making me clearly see why I wasn't so excited about the flat I'm buying, and why I was/am in no hurry for the process to move forward...

I am grateful to the forces that took me to the cinema today to see a film I hadn't planned to see - I had the idea to watch "10 canoes" but went to the wrong cinema... I suppose I was ready to have my eyes opened to my own current truth and to accept it as it is, without judgment.

5 days which transform a lifetime

I have come back last night from an intensive workshop that counts as 5 days of Heartbeat in the pre-requisite to enter the 5 Rhythms teacher training. To me who doesn't at this minute think about the training it counts as a life transforming experience.

Alchemy of stillness it was called. Or in my own words, how to explore the emotions (and their shadows) of fear, anger and passion, sadness and joy in the body, let them dance me as I pay attention and learn to recognise and consciously release them, and finally allow these new allies or friends to blend into compassion and love at the centre of my heart. Intense it was indeed.

Thorny or daunting at times, gratifying and fun at others, the work opens the door of possibilies, catalyses questions or intentions and leads through transformation to newness. If it will take some time to integrate the experience it already revealed to me my own continuous - if not regular - movement on the spiral of life and my capacity to be more grounded in my own power.

I am extremely grateful to all spirits to have conspired so that I could be present for this work, to the much dedicated teacher Ya'Acov and his assistants Jo and Sue and all the students who made this work what it was.

In the heart of Spring

Sunday rain, rain, rain.. more rain still and there's no stopping it. That's been the story of the day, half way though the Bank Holiday Monday. Somehow I love it. The same way I love it when it's sunny or warm or windy or cold. I just take it as it comes.

But today there is an extra-something to this rain. I'm going tomorrow to a week-long 5Rhythms workshop and I feel that the ground and the Earth are being softened by this blessed water and that more life will come as a result of it. More life through the ground but also more life though my body. I don't know yet what, how, when but I feel it grow inside and gather strength to push out and be seen eventually.

I'll keep all my senses in full alert and welcome every single new shoot.

La tête à l'envers

La tête à l'envers
De l'autre côté de la misère
Quittant la Terre
Pour voler tout en haut comme les oiseaux
En plein air
Les yeux clos
Vers la lumière
D'un nouvel univers

La tête à l'envers
De l'autre côté de la poussière
L'air est bon
Pour respirer à plein poumons
' Y a rien à faire
J' f'rai pas marche arrière
J'ai b'soin d' ce grand air
Qu'on trouve pas sur la Terre

Le coeur enfin à l'endroit
On a toujours l'choix
Et j'ai décidé de plus vivre ni à moitié
Ni à côté
L'herbe est plus verte chez moi
J'ai trouvé la foi
La Vie m'attend
Elle est là

Awesome Anger

How could I ever thank Camilo enough for having talked to me about 5 Rhythms? How could I ever thank myself enough for having made the leap of faith? To put it in just one word, this practice is magical. At least it is for me...

In the last six months or so, chaos often became a battle that I always lost before I even got into it. Losing the plot, screaming, feeling exhaustion creeping in, lack of air reaching my lungs, and stiffness around my liver... I used to be happy with that as I was letting my rage out, at long last. But my entrance into lyrical would be chaotic, to say the least and most often some tears would find their way up... then down the floor!! In some classes I got more water pouring out that even Niagara falls.

Last week changed radically. My anger, agression and rage came out as per usual but somehow they were feeding me with energy rather than sucking it out. The passage to lyrical made the tears come up but this time, before they even left my heart, I refused to surrender, "No clairem, there's nothing to be ashamed of, I've got the right to be angry and agressive, I've got the right to own my anger and nothing bad will happen to me"...

Tonight, I came to the class anxious and upset and I couldn't be bothered to make an effort. Maybe I shouldn't say it that way. I couldn't push away all the anxiety that was playing up in my mind. I didn't like the music that Cathy put on, other dancers were too much of this and not enough of that.... when she said "take a partner", I thought, "Oh noooooo, that's the icing on the cake!" I really had to kick my arse again and again and again to make sure I was present to the man I was dancing with! And suddenly the dam cracked, the anger push through and with it all the repressed energy I had no access to until then!! It's like surfing the wave or falling into it. One feels fantastic and the other dreadful but if one's focused enough, then one can get the better of it even from the darkest situation.

The most beautiful discovery of all

"This dream is one of the BIG dreams I was talking to you about yesterday", he said, "and you've just discovered and tasted what it's like to be home. That's why you didn't want to come back".

These few words, not even intended to me, ran at great speed along the ear nerve all the way to my heart leading to an instant, dramatic rising tide and the overflow of tears running down my cheeks before crushing on the dry ground. Suddenly I just knew everything. My brain could not formulate words but my heart knew and my tears knew...

Most of my life, I've lost myself into a world of fantasy where my stories had no substance and no existence except in my mind... It has been the story of my life, my way to survive an ordinary reality in which I couldn't find my space.

But in the last few months, I've lost myself into women-only workshops: feeling incredibly safe, confident in groups of unknown women and trusting my own being... I have experienced in those days such blissful states that I never wanted to come back to the ordinary, every day reality. I've lost myself into darkness (Darkness Visible, 20/10/06, sorry I can't make a link to it...), touching such deep layers of who I am that I got burnt. Yet it also had been an awesome experience and I wanted to get back to it asap. I've lost myself into a one year introductory course in Jungian Analytical Psychology, genuinely fascinated by the mystery of the psyche and the unconscious.

Every time I lost myself without knowing I was coming home, my home, my core, my deep being, the real me. That is, until the few words stated above simultaneously clicked in my mind and my heart and I could not only comprehend but most importantly accept that I am a deeply spiritual person (please do not read religious instead of spiritual as the two words have complete different meanings). Being conscious of this simple yet crucial fact gave me an immediate inner peace, the feeling of worth and fullness and the knowledge that my place is both in the spiritual world and in the ordinary, everyday world of relationship... I could leave my substanceless fantasy world and tackle both world fully conscious.

How interesting and fascinating it is that my inner world and discoveries are mirrored synchronicitically in my outer reality (or is it the other way around)? I am finding my inner home and 10 days ago I made an offer on a flat which was accepted and all seems to go smoothly so far... I could own my first home ever in the next 6 to 8 weeks! I feel ready to embrace the ordinary reality that will never be entirely fulfilling but is nevertheless full of riches and two weeks ago I meet a man... after an awful long time!

Today I feel in love with both worlds and my heart feels so dense in my chest it needs to expand.

something of a crazy but amazing week

Well...
I've had no time whatsoever to even think about the blog this past week. So many changes, so much excitment, so many people to talk to and catch up with. And to be completely honnest right now, all I think of is go to bed and sleep...

Yet I want to share this excitment with the few of you visiting my blog, reading these words and sometimes leaving comments...

I've made an offer on a 1-bedroom flat . I called the estate agent on Monday at 9.30am as I felt torn all weekend after visiting it: it's great, but the kitchen is so small; maybe I can find something bigger; yes but my budget is tight; and the prices continue going up on a steep slope; and the England base rate is likely to go up, too; so the flat is great; and the garden is lovely and big; etc, etc. The agent tells me that the flat is still available and calls me back 1/2h later to tell me the vendor had accepted my offer. From then on, I felt like a little whirlwind all day, having to give phone calls, find a solicitor, talk to my mortgage broker, decide for the exact amount I want to borrow... My mind was racing but not getting anywhere! Fortunately some part of me was somehow still functioning and making things happen! pfff!

And so of course I had to celebrate on Monday night and went for dinner with my very good friend who had the great idea of calling me as I was leaving work. It was a beautiful sunny day and we sat down on the Southbank with a glass of red wine, chatting away, until the Sun hid behind the buildings on the other side of the Thames and we went for dinner indoors.

After more admin stuff for the flat on Tuesday (didn't do much work those two days) then a visit at the Renoir Cinema, I found myself already well into the night with some prep work still to be done for a seminar on Wednesday afternoon. It was a very short night indeed! And so was Thursday night, as I met with THE man... Yes he had called me after the Brazilian night and yes we've met a few times since then. And so far so good! I think that's all I want to say about it at this stage...

And it is now time for bed, even though it is very early.

Bien -sûr qu'il fait beau !!

Il a fait beau toute la journée
Et ceux qui disent le contraire avaient les yeux fermés
D'accord, quelques nuages se sont invités
Mais ils ne faisaient que dire bonjour en passant

Il a fait beau la plus grande partie de la journée
Voyez, je rectifie pour ne pas vous contrarier
D'accord, certains étaient noir de jaie
Et ils prenaient tout leur temps

Il y a eu un peu de beau temps dans la journée
Une vraie journée de printemps et ses giboulées
D'accord les nuages ont ont commencé à se bagarrer
Tellement fort que s'en était inquiétant

Mais moi je m'en fichais parce que en vrai
Le soleil, c'était dans mon coeur qu'il était venu se réfugier

a few more steps on the spiral of life?

I really SHOULD go to bed and catch up on as much sleep as I can but I'm far too excited for that...

I am in awe at the world... really!
The way things happen or don't, turn out to be or don't... I had called my blog the witch and the princess because they're opposites and "because life's made of oposites, etc..." Well I experienced that again this weekend.

In opposition to all the excitment of my night at that Brazilian club I had to queue for an hour and a quarter before I could get in.
On Sunday was the London Marathon, ran by more than 36,000 people and they come at the back of my place so I could hear the cheers and jeers given by numerous supporters along the road. As I was leaving to go and vote for the French presidential elections, I gave up and went back home to avoid the queue to get on the tube - never seen such queue before ever at that place... 200m maybe? When I left home again an hour later, it was better and got on the tube as usual and it worked well. But as I arrived at the French lycee, I had to queue for another hour and a quarter to vote. Not joking!!! Long gone the sweet memory of coming, voting, going, all within 10 minutes!

With all the excitment and emotions of all sorts running high within myself, I believe these times queuing happened to make sure I would keep my feet on the ground. Awesome, no?

Then tonight I went to my weekly 5 Rhythms dance class and coming with no surprise was a chaotic chaos... I become possessed, loose control and I usually collapse after a while, sometimes weeping for minutes that seem to never come to an end... But somehow tonight in my chaos I felt extremely angry, I felt an enormous rage. It wasn't coming from my head nor my throat, it was erupting directly from my stomach, my liver, making my upper body shake - guts, lungs, spine, shoulders... nothing escaped. I'm sure my jailor, the one who kept me from expressing anger for all this years and to whom I was obedient, my jailor felt the prison shake tonight. A real earthquake, at least 9 points on Richter scale!! When the tears started to come up I suddenly saw how much they were my obedience, me indulging to fear and sadness of not allowing myself to express my anger and feeling sorry for myself - the eruption of rage came straight back! I AM ALLOWED TO BE ANGRY AND EXPRESS ANGER. YEEEEEEESSSS!

I believe that not only it won't kill me but it'll do me good. Am I at last living my teenage years of rebellion, tries and misses, mistakes, stupidity, discoveries of all sorts??? Maybe then I'll start finding out who I am really behind the obedient girl's mask, what I want and what is my purpose.

I'm telling you, these are really exciting times!

A Brazilian night to remember

My friend had planned to go to a Brazilian nightclub last night and my first thought when I got her email was, "I don't fancy that". But later in the week I fought my tendency to being too serious, thoughtful, "adult"... and I had to kick my arse a few times to decide to go, regardelss of whether I wanted to or not. I really needed to have fun and force myself if needed be.

Then came yesterday morning and I woke up with a bad headache for no particular reason. But I was rather skeptical because it kept coming and going. I would forget about it and then, wondered where it's gone, and vlam!!! it was back as strong as ever... I went for a nap in the afternoon and slept for more than two hours. My head was still sore but it started wearing off after a while. I thought I would take a paracetamol then meet up with my friend. Off I went, quite late, and realised on the tube I'd forgotten to take the tablet! It made me smile and thought that headache was nothing to worry about, except maybe a physical sign of my seriousness...

I had a great time, the music was good, there was a bit of space to dance - which is quite unusual in a london nightclub - and most important of all, I met this guy... great smile, fun, attractive and he made the move. We exchanged numbers, he said he'd call me today and I believe he will. He waited with me for my bus while he had to back in the opposite direction. We planned to go to the cinema sometime this week. My heart pumps hard when I think of him. I am both excited and terrified at the prospect of starting a new relationship after so long.
Watch this space!! :))

Painful separation

These last few days I could see people beyond their appearances. I could see beyong what my eyes tell me. I could see their loving hearts with my heart and my heart was big enough to love every single one of them in return, regardless of shape, age, colour or gender. It was awesome. At last I could see others. Of course I had always know intellectually that a person in front of me is a separate person having their own story and history, issues and beliefs. Yet I sometimes could not accept it and as a dear friend told me recently, "it sometimes seems that for you, people are either with you or against you".... he was so right! It was such an eye-opener! My explanation would be that people were with me as long as they fitted the image of myself I'd projected onto them. They would turn to be "against" me as soon as they would be themselves, therefore not mirroring me any longer...

Interestingly I haven't seen my boss and colleagues or my analyst with my heart yet. I'm so used to see them with the eyes it might take time even to think about changing the habit, and remembering there are men and women in their own right, with their own personal stories...

"One cannot relate to something one hasn't separated from".

Today I just knew that I haven't separated from my analyst. Not that we have a relationship other than an analyst/client relationship but all I see in him is what I project onto him. It is as if he were not a man in his own right, as if he didn't have a life outside the two hours a week that we meet in his office. He's always available by email or phone, very gentle, patient, compassionate, competent... and oh yes I forgot, attractive, too.

Of course my intellect tells me he is his own individual, separate from myself, but the revelation that I could not see him beyond the visible was painful. I saw how I hand him my power as soon as I enter his office door. I saw how much I "like" playing the game I have played all my life: being the nice and to be rescued daddy's daughter, not quite good enough, not quite working properly, in a word addicted to perfection. I saw how I lock myself away high in Rapunzel's tower letting life pass by. "All" I need is to hold onto my power, my sense of self-worth and self-confidence. Then I believe I will see the man sitting opposite me in his armchair, I will hear him mention exemples from his life without feeling my heart sink, I will accept that he's got a life outside these two hours a week we meet in his office. And I will be genuinely happy to come and meet a man I trust and who can help me.

I guess that's what's called transference. I always knew the word and its meaning intellectually. This week though I believe it reached my heart and I feel its meaning emotionally. The separation might be painful but is necessary and I feel ready for it. I had wanted to "leave my father's house" by sheer will. I believe now it might start to happen.

Les-Bi-Gay 5 Rhythms class

It will have taken me about a year to finally walk in the room. I was both fascinated and terrified at the idea of dancing with people having different sexual orientation. I guess mostly terrified seen how long that took me... Yet I know gay people in my family, I have close lesbien friends and that has never been a problem to me. I guess it was the mixing of the dance with the sexal orientation that scared me most. Because personal spaces can sometimes be blurred on the dance floor and because I wasn't too sure where my own sexuality lies?
And so I went tonight and I had a very good time, from self-conscious to being possessed into chaos the way I have been in the last few weeks. And being Friday most of us ended up going for coffee/peppermint tea and muffins across the road. No better way of finishing the working week, really...

L'attente

Pas de nouvelles
Faut-il dire "bonne nouvelle"?
Pas de réponses
Viendra-t-il sans qu'il s'annonce?

Depuis le temps que j'attends
Je m'impatiente je me ments
Depuis le temps que je rêve
Rien ne va plus j'en crève

Encore 8 jours
Depuis combien le compte à rebours?
Encore une vie
Dois-je me dire que tout est fini?

Depuis le temps que j'espère
Tout va mal de travers
Depuis le temps que j'y pense
Tout me rappelle son absence

Encore combien d'années
Me faudra-t-il l'aimer?
Encore combien de sourires
Pour cesser de souffrir?

Depuis le temps que je crois
Qu'il me remarquera moi
Depuis le temps que je me persuade
Il est temps de partir en ruades

Je ne souhaite qu'une chose
Ne laissez pas la porte close
Je veux la place au dialogue
Et surtout pas de psychologue

clairem --- Nov 1989

Being alive again

"I am not special"
"I am unique but not special"
"I don't own the truth. My truth, maybe, but not the truth"
"I don't know best"
"I am not perfect"

Time to stop taking myself too seriously
Time to let my feeling and belief of self-importance dissolve...
Time to start having fun
Time to be spontaneous
Time to live and look back and stop planning ahead

It's not about giving up
It's about being true to myself

Loneliness

The journey of self-discovery and individuation is a fascinating journey. But sometimes the path is arduous, slippery, curvy, unfriendly... looking back over the last few days/weeks that's how it has felt to me. I had been walking the alley-way, trekking the path, climbing the rocks with my head down looking at my feet and hadn't noticed how much I was relying on sheer will to overcome the increasing difficulty to go on. Yet each step required much effort and energy and I grew tired and restless as I kept my head down and refused to see the hard work I needed to put in to keep going.

And when in the analytical process my analyst found the right words to make me open my eyes, I awoke to a nightmare. I've had worst ones before but this one is rather dark, trust me... Yet that's why I pay him, isn't it? To keep me grounded when I fly high and lift me up when I sink too deep. Learning to be buoyant is such a difficult process!

As I awoke I found myself face to face with a monster the sort of which I can't describe. Anyone who read Carlos Castaneda's A separate reality may see what I mean. My monster is shapeless, rather dark, fluid and airy at the same time. It is cold and filling the every pore of my skin, shortening her breath and calling for retreat from the world. Without even being aware of its presence it'd engulfed me, abducted me into its own world and made me play along its own rules. Have you ever played backgammon in different part of the world, or even in different parts of Turkey? You learn one set of rules in one town and when you move to another town the rules are different and the only way to play with new people is to accept to adapt to their rules and usually you're not too good at it. At least to begin with... Still each time you need to adapt, it becomes easier and quicker...

I begin to know my monster's rules by now: it force-feeds me particularly with sweets of all sorts regardless of me being hungry or not and pushes me to be active and do things. Above all it is extremely good at erasing from my mind all meaningful words related to emotions or feelings and at blowing off the physiological, electrical and chemical mechanisms that connect my mind to my body. So much so that she (my body) becomes only an annoyance and a heavy burden, "that" thing that I am ashamed of and wished I could shape the way I want (or should I say, that society wants?) Going deeper into the darkness of my monster's world, I grow empty, impatient, angry, sad and I end up slashing the very meaningful relationships that exist in my life because it convinces me they're no good to me, that I have outgrown them, that I'm worth so much more... My monster takes me to deep loneliness so that it is "the one and only" I can rely on to survive.

I awoke to my analyst's words the other day "does it feel acceptable to be lonely?" It is such a painful feeling, yet it is my only way out. By accepting my feeling of loneliness my monster will have no more grip on me. By accepting my feeling of loneliness I will not depend on it for survival. By accepting my feeling of loneliness I do not need to fight harder, to walk faster, to fly higher, to be more witty or quicker in thinking, to get my answers right, to be dutiful in order to get some rewards...

Allowing my feeling of loneliness is simply to let it exist and the prospect terrifies me: I might actually start relating to people in a way that is meaningful to me and not to them!!! It will take the time it needs but I am growing really tired at putting a foot in front of the other endlessly for someone else. I want to sit down and comtemplate this loneliness and emptiness and worthlessness I hold inside. They do not belong to me. They took shelter long ago and are waiting for me to acknowledge them and give them a voice. That would be the best gift to them and to me, setting them free.

Bavure

Une année déjà est passée
Et beaucoup ont oublié
La fin de cet étudiant
Qui n'avait que 20 ans

Qui a commis cette grave erreur?
Pourquoi en faire un grand malheur?
Il avait été attaqué
Est-ce le seul qui soit ainsi tombé?

Tous ceux qu'on préfère ignorer
Tous ceux qui sont délaissés
Tous ceux qui sont nés un peu "vert"
Tous ceux qu'on regarde de travers

Seulement pour Malik Oussekine
Il y a plus moyen de le cacher
Il n'est pas mort d'une overdose de morphine
Mais à cause de la "police montée"

Suffira -t-il de supplier pour s'arrêter là?

clairem--- Dec 1987

Hymne aux polonais

C'est beau la liberté
Mais il faut la mériter
Et après plus de 45 ans
Je vous espère gagnants.

Vous avez pliés
Mais n'êtes pas brisés
C'était une question de survie
Mais vous ne vous êtes pas trahis.


Restez ceux que vous êtes
Au plus profond de vos êtres
Ne devenez pas comme nous
Egoïstes et indifférents à tout.

C'est tellement beau l'amitié
Mais on ne sait plus la manier
Tous et chacun se méfie
Et contribue, seul, à sa survie.

Vous savez vous serrez les coudes
Alors ne vous jetez pas aux yeux la poudre
Ne devenez pas égoïstes
En créant une société capitaliste

Basée sur la concurrence
Elle contribue au pire : l'indifférence
le mensonge et l'individualisme.

Sachez garder vos valeurs, si belles et simplistes!

clairem --- Jan 1990

Transitions

I've moved, at last!

I had "known" since last early November that the time had come. I was shown the opportunity in early February and I made it happen. So here I am, sitting in my new flat and talking about it. Yet the flat is not new to me. I used to live here a few years back. That lasted for a year or so. The flat is my ex-boyfriend's who's gone to Central and South America for 6 months. He jetted off last week.

The situation had become impossible with my old flatmate. Yet some interesting thing had come out of this situation. One of them being that in the last 2 or 3 weeks I'd decided to wake up an hour early to have time for myself in the morning before starting my working day. Not only did I love it - not the waking up bit - and found this very rewarding but it was a time when I knew I would not see my flatmate and somehow the flat was mine... Because of my outer life very busy and late nights I experienced great difficulty to give myself this extra hour in the last 10 days. And so last night, I've been wondering, "did I do that to hide from my flatmate or did I do that for myself?" Hopefully I'll find out in the next few weeks.

Yet this morning I've just given myself 40 minutes - coming to an end now - to write these few words and I'm grateful. I must give myself a chance to be what I want to be and that means let the fear out of the picture. And that means allow myself to live my dreams and take the risk of not reaching them...

So much more than a sex dream... (cont'd)

The beginning of the week has been hectic as I knew it would... but here I am again and continuing with my dream interpretation (to see the dream, see post below)

We are four women... number four, completion, whole and in the feminine!! It feels huge to me, never before has this happen. It is so exciting. Yes, one of them I don't know but hey! I'm on a journey of discovery... and we are being introduced anyway at a later time and therefore I feel it goes in the "right" direction.
Again, the masturbation is a first I believe and again it feels like a celebration and an acceptance of my femininity and of the fact that I am a sexual being. This unknown woman may well represent the cultural feminine lineage in which I grew up as I've got to hide the "culprit" before I am introduced to her. If she does represent this she would believe that human being is not an animal and can raise above the sexual instincts and needs, control them and separate reproduction from pleasure. So yes, I might be accepting my own sexuality but it seems only in hiding from her at this point in time, as if to avoid her wrath! But next, the "dirty", earthy, primal goddess joins me in the form of a petite black woman. The fact that she is petite may well be pointing out to me that she's got some growing to do. But she's a nice looking woman in the dream, she exists and I give her some sexual pleasure without guilt or shame. Am I starting tapping into this sexual energy of mine, after many many moons of repression?

These are exciting times and exciting contents that my unconscious brings up to consciousness.

So much more than a sex dream...

I woke up to a dream just under an hour ago and although I've had others of great interest, I want to talk about this one in particular.


"I meet with some friends at an evening conference in London and as it finishes my friend Stephanie (not her real name) asks that we go for a drink. I'm happy with that. To get back to the street, we must walk across a large store. My shoes and the floor are very smooth and I run and slide on my feet, then run again and slide again, making wide turns in between the racks of clothes. I watch them as I pass by and notice a couple of item and think I might come back to try them on. I'm having fun.
Then Stephanie says it was her birthday not that long ago. I'm shocked and hardly believe it when she says that the actual date is 21st Feb, as it is my birthday, too... We've known each other for a while and I had never known! What a coincidence! She says that'll she'll have a proper party at a later date as her girlfriend can't make it that night.

Then we are 4 women. One of us I don't know but somehow we are being introduced much later so that when it does happen, we've had time to know who the other was and she is my cousin's girlfriend. Just before we are introduced to one another, I was masturbating with a vibrator and I take it off and walk to my bedroom and slide it under my pillow. My flatmate Toni is busy hoovering the lounge and then his bedroom (we avoid each other as we get past). As I walk back toward the others, a black woman, petite in size, comes close to me. We hug each other and we walk together holding each other. I caress her back and kiss her head with tenderness. She likes it and responds positively. When we arrive in the room where the others are, she lies down on her front and I kneel next to her and continue caressing her, her lower back, her bum, the back of her legs, while also watching the other women who have only their underwear on. The black woman opens her legs and I bend closer and run my fingers in her pubic hair. I know I will slide my finger up her yoni next and she moans with pleasure. The other women are doing the same to each other. Then the black woman turns around on her back and I would like to lick her fanny."

I wanted to share that dream because it feels like a celebration the the feminine in general and an almost complete acceptance of feminine values. The dream starts in a rational, masculine and Logos setting with a conference - thinking as opposed to feeling! But it moves on quickly to having fun, being child-like in the store. I'm not quite ready to get those new clothes that I like and that would show a different me to the world but I will come back for them. It is only a matter of time now, or at least it seems.
My friend Stephanie's birthday is not on 21st Feb in real life. I believe my dream is telling me that it is time for me to integrate the part(s) of me that resemble her - research scientist and lesbian, that is combining both the masculine and the feminine world...

I will come back to the rest of the dream later today... or more realistically later in the week! I feel I have been given a real gift this morning and it is only the beginning of the week!! Is it not wonderful?

Pour Bonne-maman

Il y a déjà 3 ou 4 semaines, ma grand-mère de 95 ans est tombée, à moitié renversée alors qu'elle allait rentrer dans l'ascenseur. Elle n'avait pas pensé que quelqu'un pouvait en sortir et certainement que l'autre personne n'avait pas pensé que quelqu'un pouvait y rentrer. Elle s'est cassé une vertèbre.

Bonne-maman, je l'appelle. Pour la 4ème génération, c'est Bonne-mimi.

Depuis 2 semaines, elle souffre le martyr et ne peut que difficilement bouger, et comme le disait si bien Jacques Brel, en quelques mois elle est passée "du lit à la fenêtre, du lit au fauteuil et du lit au lit"...

Et hier, les larmes ont coulé toute la journée, par intermittance. Elle n'a plus envie de se battre. La douleur est épuisante, trop présente. Bonne-maman souhaiterait en finir, être rappelée par celui qu'elle appelle le Seigneur. Alors je suis allée danser hier soir, le "5 Rhythms", cette pratique de méditation en mouvement qui fait vivre les émotions à travers le corps et non la tête. J'y suis partie la tête pleine de tristesse et les yeux bouffis d'avoir trop pleuré, certaine que davantage de larmes couleraient pendant la session. Et puis, j'ai été surprise...

J'ai à peine pensé à Bonne-maman pendant ces 3 heures et je me suis étonnée à sourire, à être bien, à partager qui j'étais dans l'instant avec des partenaires éphémères... Une fois ou l'autre, une pensée ou une question me traversait l'esprit, "où est passée ma tristesse?" Impossible de mettre le doigt dessus!

Pour finir la session, l'ensemble des danseurs forme un cercle au milieu duquel chacun peut jeter les mots qu'il souhaite. J'ai parlé de Bonne-maman, j'ai voulu lui dédier ma danse et lui souhaiter que la douleur cesse, même si pour en arriver là, il faut que ce soit sa vie qui s'en aille - si c'est ce qu'elle veut. C'est alors que plus de 100 personnes se sont donné la main et ont eu une pensée bienveillante pour Bonne-mimi! Mes larmes se sont remises à couler. Des larmes remplies de gratitude et d'amour pour ces gens connus ou inconnus.

J'espère que Bonne-maman a eu quelques secondes ou plus de bien-être. Pour ma part, je me suis sentie soutenue, aidée et aimée.

When neuroscience "meets" psychology but doesn't see it...

What an interesting scientific result I’ve just heard this morning! I didn’t think I would ever be excited about science anymore… The funny thing is that the woman telling her results wasn’t actually completely convinced herself and said she remained very cautious because she’d only studied 10 subjects. But let me tell you more about her study.

She takes 2- and 3-days old babies and while they’re asleep, she makes them listen to either classical music (Bach and Mozart) or spoken words (language). While this is happening, the babies are monitored by a technique called fMRI that allows observing which part of the brain is activated for a given task/action. What she saw in those babies is that a specific part of the right brain hemisphere was activated when the music was on while it was a part of the left brain hemisphere that lit up in the machine when they were talked to.

The woman said that she was very surprised that differentiation between the two brain hemispheres happened so early in life and she wasn’t expecting this. I wondered why she was surprised: language is a sound that is structured, rational and follows well established rules; it would therefore have to activate the left, logos, masculine brain hemisphere. Music on the other hand falls into creativity, diffuse awareness and feelings and would have to be picked up by the right, creative, Eros, feminine brain hemisphere. Still, I realised quickly that I was the only one in the group of people she was talking to for whom her results made complete sense.

I felt rather frustrated that they couldn’t see the bigger picture but I decided to keep my mouth shut, mostly because of the professional body that I represented in this event. This study serves so well psychology… Yet, it is so surprising to scientists that they can’t believe it… Shame!

Sunday morning

Waking up at 6am on a Sunday is nothing unusual anymore. But getting ready to board the Eurostar makes it an exciting day for many reasons - meeting with my parents during the day, with Rosa for dinner, with my gran on Monday while she's decided she'd had enough with life. An exciting day also because I've made up my mind to change my hair with dark red layers...

But something much better tops my list of excitments...

The new life opening before me - filled with compassion, empowered by love, nourished by an intense spirituality, instilled by a growing sense of self-worth and humility... Compassion and love seem to open my chest and give space to a heart crippled for too long. Nourishing and mothering come first and spread large and wide within me leaving little or no space to the negativity that used to rule my own kingdom.

After a difficult winter, spring is coming soon and fast - I feel it inside as well as outside!

Love

Love.
A burning charcoal
Glowing red
Always warm
Never consuming

Love.
A flying dart
Hitting the bull
Always confident
Never missing

Love.
An open heart
Strong heartbeat
Always pouring
Never going empty

Love
Bigger than me
And bigger than you

Love
With no end and no limit

Women (4) - Standing up for oneself

He checks
Then double-checks.
What I do and don't do
What I say and don't say

Will be wrong
Will bring shame
Will awaken guilt.

But for the first time in my life
I shout
and scream

"Shut up you soul-eater
I'm not afraid
I don't owe you
Neither one nor two.
Get lost!"

And I am still alive and well...

Sacred tears

Something new has happened to me in the last few weeks, something that I hadn't expected. Now, looking back, there's nothing really weird about it really.

Every day as I travelled back home directly from work a sense of immense sadness would wrap my entire body and mind as I stand or sit on the tube, my heart would remind me of its existence, heavily loaded, or burning. I would look in for the entire journey and finally open the sacred door of my safe haven and the tears would flow, finally... Not easily at first but as days passed I have sometimes become a fountain offering to the world - to my world - a very personal and salty water. Amazingly my whole being would feel lighter as the tears dry up of their own, my heart would stop burning, my chest would open to the possibilities of the evening and a real positive sense of myself would somehow have crept in without my notice...

I wonder how much of those tear come from a real need a closure for my working day, a place and time where and when I have difficulty being myself and showing who I am. I know I am still putting the mask on as I close the door in the morning.
I wonder how much of those tears weep the small irritations and of the day.
I wonder how much of those tears heal the ancient sorrow and grief and shame that others - and myself - had never allowed in the open.
I wonder how much of those tears run down my cheeks for some unconscious reason still to be uncovered.

Whatever their reason to show up they're welcome because each time, very simply, they take me home.

Elle et moi

Pourquoi j'ai le cafard?
Je n'ai pas de nouvelles.
Pourquoi je broie du noir?
Je m'éloigne d'elle.

Elle c'est moi
et moi c'est elle.
Elle ne me connait pas
Je ne sais rien d'elle.

Elle est une étrangère
Je ne me reconnais plus.
Comme un bibelot sur une étagère
Qu'on a assez vu.

Que doit-on faire d'elle?
Je me sens mal.
Comment me rapprocher d'elle
Sans me faire encore plus de mal?

Rien ni personne ne m'arrête.
J'ai perdu toute ma confiance
En ce qui va apparaître
Et en ceux qui me font des avances.

Je tends les mains
A qui veut les prendre.
Elle espère que demain
Quelqu'un va l'entendre.

clairem --- 16 fév 1990
picture --- (The helpful shadow)

Bretagne en hiver

Le vent, la pluie
Que c'est joli !
Le vent, la pluie
Qu'est-ce que ça me dit ?

La mer en hiver
Ses moutons déchaînés
Ce vent si fier
Qu'il faut s'incliner.

Les arbres en sont déracinés
Les toits tout retournés
Les rues toutes inondées
Et nous dans tout ça ?

On a peur d'être emportées
On vit avec la mort
Attentives
Comme un pilote dans son mirador.

Dire que les gens sont furieux
Parce que les stations sont fermées
Ici pas de touristes
on est seules et appréciées.

clairem --- 15 Fév 1990

The invisible

Like a herd they hopped on
Buzzing, wild, strong and defiant
Tall and short, handsome or spotty
They're one of a kind with their uniforms.

Trousers down to expose their fashionable pants
Ties half undone
Nike rucksacks to complete the picture
They feel safe because they belong.

The leaders get off at the next stop and
The atmosphere grows quieter.
A free electron takes a seat
Seemingly looking out by the window but...

Really, throwing side-glances for a potential follower
Dying out to be called back in the circle.
He puts a brave face but
The world is heavy on his shoulders once again...

When another group of 10 leaves
There's only one to say good-bye.
The wrong one, though, the odd number
His heart sinks a little deeper and weeps.

He's the only one left as the train departs
He's the outsider living further afield
Beyond the borders.
He's invisible.

Who's that girl?

Who's that lovely girl
not feeling the sweet pain of longing?

Who's that sexy girl
not seing men as lovers or predators?

Who's that grounded girl
not getting lost in wild fantasies?

Who's that courageous girl
feeling safe looking at people in the eyes?

Who's that assertive girl
capable of changing her mind or crushing her principles?

Who's that confident girl
feeling home anywhere she goes?

Who's that vulnerable girl
giving an outer life to passing emotions?

Who's that artist girl
believing in her art?

She says she survived the long years of desertic conditions and witnessed
Climate change.
She says there is no way back.
At times storm-like, volcano-like or war-like
She invades, spreads, grows and takes over.

Change of scenario

One month tomorrow. Just one more month.

Moving out after 4 lines, acts, chapters, lives!
Whatever the time, it's been long enough.
Need a breath of fresh air, or two... I have outgrown the place.

I cannot hide any longer.
There is a life to be lived, to be loved, to be laughed, to be embraced...
I cannot let the show go on.
There is a twist in the story that needs integrating...
I can talk to the author but the decision is mine
There is no possible compromise...

The move will take place.
One month tomorrow. Just one more month.
A split second.
An eternity.

Birthday

It was my birthday yesterday and for once it felt good to say so, to be seen, to have some attention even if short lived and not necessarily by the people you like most.

I went to the baker next door, bought this whole chocolate cake and brought it back to work. I cut it and colleagues asked me "iwhat's the occasion?". "it is my birthday", I said. It was interesting to see their reactions; looking embarrassed, ashamed not to know (how could they when they arrived in the Department 3 months ago?), feeling gulty not to have bought the cake themselves, awkward for unknown reasons...

Inside I felt good, I felt present, I was home, I had just turned 36 and I was doing well. The sun had appeared to greet me after so many grey days and falling rain all night. The wetness of the ground reflected the strong sunlight and sent me signals that we were entering the third part of winter and that Nature has started her slow process of awakening toward Spring.

Later I met up with my friends except for the two closest of them who didn't make it for different (and good) reasons. Had I known it long on advance that they wouldn't be there I might not have organised anything. Instead...

... I did enter a new year without them. I look at this as new beginnings, new horizons, new insights, new way of relating maybe. Instead...

... we were 7 of us around this table sharing a good Spanish wine. For some unknown reason, seven (7) has always been my favorite number.

Seven by four makes twenty eight. 28 is the moon cycle. 4 is the number of stages in the moon cycle (new, first quarter, full, last quarter) and it is also the symbol of wholeness. 7... the rhythm necessary for change from one stage to the next...

It might be time for change and entry into another stage of the cycle.

Chinese New Year

Don't believe what my complete profile says. I'm not a rat. I am a pig. Indeed, a pig, according to Chinese Astrology. Given that it comes back every 12 years, that makes me ... 12, 24, 36, 48, 60 or 72... I won't go further that would really be pushing it.

Anyway, I missed the parade in London but I was on time to be with the crowd. Trust me... Today they estimated 275, 000 people between Trafalgar Square, Leicester Square and Soho. It was a mild, windless and rather grey winter day and as expected it was noisy, busy, smelly, colourful, friendly...

I took pictures, lots of them but you'll have to come back and revisit to see them as I still work with films I'm afraid. My Canon EOS 500 works still beautifully and I haven't got the money to buy something equivalent in digital... I've got other priorities! One day, maybe!! But the films are now gone to be developed and hopefully I'll upload (or is it download, I never know...) them this coming weekend.

Witches at their incantations

For the first time in years, I walked in the National Gallery in London. With no preconceived idea of what to see and where to go, I mostly wandered around some rooms, in awe of the architecture of the place, until... I was suddenly stopped, compelled to turned around and I fell on this painting by Salvator Rosa. This is what Wikipedia says about him:
"Salvator Rosa (1615-March15, 1673) was an Italian Baroque painter, poet and printmaker, born in Naples, but active there, Rome, and Florence. As a painter, he is best known as an "unorthodox and extravagant" and a "perpetual rebel" proto-Romantic. His life and writings were equally colorful."

Voilà des années que je n'avais pénétré dans la National Gallery à Londres. Je n'avais de plan précis et j'ai donc déambulé d'une pièce à l'autre, complètement émerveillée par la beauté du lieu jusqu'à ce que soudain, je m'arrête sans raison et me tourne - comme forcée... face à ce tableau de Salvator Rosa. Voilà ce que dit Wikipedia:
"Salvator Rosa' était un poète satirique, acteur, musicien et peintre italien né en 1615, près de Naples à Arenella et décédé en mars 1673 à Rome. La devise de Salvator "aut tace aut loquere meliora silentio" figure sur son autoportrait
.

I am not usually a great fan of this period but I simply fell in love with that specific painting. So much so that I actully bought a A2 size print of it... Darkness, fear, horror, disgust, sour smell, shame... don't they carry some traits of ours we've managed to forget and bury??

Je ne rafolle pas de la peinture de cette époque mais je suis tombée amoureuse de ce tableau et en ai acheté un reproduction sur le champ... noirceur, peur, horeur, écoeurement, odeurs néabonde, honte... n'a-t-on pas confié à ces sorcières des traits de caractères qui nous appartiennent et qu'on a réussi, plus ou moins bien, à oublier et enterrer?

Women (3) - gathering strength

The cage won't be shut locked
Well-trained animals go wild again
The circus is dying
You're ready
to take off your clown's mask
show your face
be real

The cage won't be shut locked
The dogs have smelt one another
They're barking sheer strength
You're ready
to fight
stand up
be loud

The cage won't be shut locked
Boats depart in wild waters
The hurrican is racing to the finish line
You're ready
to go all the way
exist
be counted

The cage won't be shut locked
The moon appears on a sunny day
Rounded and full
You're ready
to give up the shame
make yourself proud
be a woman

clairem --- 28 Dec 2006

Noël

Je sais qu'on arrive à mardi gras et que ce petit poème arrive bien en retard...


Dis-moi où est l'espoir
Sous les montagnes de paquets multicolores
Derrière les sourires forcés et emmurés

Donne-moi une raison de croire
Que tu fêtes plus que ton pouvoir d'achat
Que tu as d'autres valeurs que celles de la bûche et du foie gras


clairem --- 27 Dec 2006

Laisser partir

Ce sont toujours les écharpes préférées qui s'envolent les jours de tempête
Les colliers les plus affectionnés qui cassent les premiers
Les vidéos adorées qui s'usent à vitesse grand V
Les bons amis qui partent les premiers
Et il faut apprendre à vivre avec...

... puis sans.

Vers le retour

Plus d'une fois c'est arrivé que je m'arrête
Lasse, exténuée et emmitouflée dans des frusques empruntées
Jusqu'à me casser le nez contre un mur d'apparence inébranlable
Debout là, juste au milieu de mon chemin. J'ai eu beau chercher
Pas moyen de faire l'école buissonière
Et j'ai enfoncé le stop trop tard
La bande cassette s'est fait bouffer par une tête de lecture ayant passé l'âge

Ca faisait longtemps que ca me pendait au nez
Mais faute de temps, de moyens, de courage, de savoir faire?
Peu importe
Je n'avais cessé de remettre à plus tard
"Aller, juste une petite dernière pour la route"...

A tâtons j'ai cherché à comprendre
Un instant pleine d'espoir de savoir comment traverser
Au plus court, au plus vite, et oublier...
Le suivant frustrée, désespérée, enragée
De continuer à tourner en rond.

Les mirages se sont succédés
Les saisons chaudes et puis froides
Combien de fois suis-je repassée là-même où je m'étais cognée?
J'ai arrêté de compter...

Mais c'est drôle, le mur viellit et s'affaiblit
par endroits où j'ai pu passer du temps
assise et découragée parfois même terriblement inquiète.
La découverte forcée de ce mur
m'a enseigné toutes ses beautés cachées
Ses hontes et ses côtés ténébreux et noirs.

Je redécouvre la main de l'artiste qui l'a érigé
Moi-même
Dans des temps reculés
Où c'était une question de vie ou de mort
Comme j'ai survécu je l'avais oublié.

La cheminée fume
Les senteurs du printemps chatouillent mes narines
Il y a quelqu'un chez moi pour m'accueillir quand je viens.
Je suis sur le chemin du retour

clairem --- 13 Feb 2007

Angel and demon to the rescue?

I can hardly begin to name or understand what happened today... or do I know but am too scared to contemplate?

After four and a bit years of a close yet rather peculiar relationship he shared with me some bits of his past and of himself. Yes he'd talked about his daughter every now and then but this was so different and this time it came up so unexpectedly! I feel very confused!! His story fits so well with mine... or rather with a story that I had made mine many moons ago even though it doesn't belong to me, with a story that I'm trying real hard to fight and give back to the world where it belongs!

What happened next is interesting, too. Two voices were arguing within me, you know the angel and the demon... The demon rejoiced and listened with immense care, drinking on every single detail and feeding on each spoken word. So much better than the best ever Christmas lunch!! He kept saying to me, "Listen Claire this guy is calling for help and I can make him happy; I love him, always have and I'd do anyth..." but he was being silenced with authority by the angel, "I'm NOT a good samaritan nor a celebrity, get me out of here!" As battle raged between the two of them I had gone to being a ball in a hard-fought table-tennis game. The two opponents desperately wanted to win, masking their shots until the very last moment, gentle touch, uplifted, smashed, crashing heavily, out!!!

That's when the tears began to run down my cheeks... before getting trapped into the thickly knitted black jumper I wore. They were tears of sorrow until... a smile grew on my face without warning and a genuine laughter burst out into the wide open space before me. They had turned to being tears of joy. And the cycle started again, grieving, then celebrating, then...
It doesn't make sense, does it? Yet I could feel my heart in unison with my tears and with the little angel and demon within. The burning sensation kept expanding regardless but the quality of the fire switched from an enclosed one of mourning for a cremation to a wild bonfire in a warm summer night (I'm sure I could even hear the songs and the accompanying guitar and smell the delicious BBQ)...

Finally some quiet time appeared behind the corner and I sent away both the angel and the demon because their home is not with me. All is left is the question, "why did he choose today to talk to me about himself?" I have no answer as yet but a pounding heart in my chest.

At least I know I'm alive!


clairem --- 9 Feb 2007

Winter flavour in beautiful London

The forecast had predicted it. It fell down just as they said and the day was born in the yellow and orange glows of the lampposts reflecting into the low low sky.
London has put her white coat on and dropped into silence. The wind brushes my face as snow flakes come crashing on my forehead, find the tiny square of bare skin that escaped my attention and is not hidden under the scarff or enter my nostrils as I inhale deeply. If only I close my eyes, I'm on the slopes in the Alps, smelling the winter and listening to the snow sqeaking under my feet.

I have grown to love London more and more but such a day is the cherry on the cake. It is a wonderfully refreshing day where people acknowledge each other's presence and smile at one another as they become squashed on the overcrowded suburban trains of the rush hour.


clairem --- 7 Feb 2007

Relationships

My answering machine speaks out their messages, my inbox flashes their yet unread emails and my phone keeps playing the 4 silly notes telling me they've sent texts...

Their voices are low and sorrowful, excited, irritated, shocked, puzzled or frustrated...

They pour their stories into my ears, unfold their problems on the table next to the steaming coffees, relate their difficulties to come unstuck, burst into laughters to avoid the tears, look away in shame and guilt, cry their desire to end the misery...

They're coming to me in numbers asking for more than friendship.
They ask my support, my opinion, my insights, my advice. Some even call it counsel.

The fantastic and fascinating thing is, the deal is evenly balanced... they give as much as I do... thank you


clairem --- 7 Feb 2007

A rough diving experience

Once in Dahab to go diving, I have missed the postman coming to deliver the parcel with all my equipment and so I meaningfully prepare to spend the day lying lazily on the beach. That was without counting my dear friend...

The promise of another bright, meaningless day is short lived as she has other plans for me. Leaving the sunny beach road and its lively outdoor restaurants I follow her into narrow, dusty streets slowly diving toward down-town. I vaguely remember having been there on my way in but had never felt the need of going back to what looks such an inhospitable area of a town otherwise very peaceful indeed... My pace slows down and my steps grow shorter but my friend pulls my hand with such authority that my shoulder has no choice but to follow - and my body to clumsily run behind!! I scream when she says that it's her favorite part of town before falling into silence and obedience!

I am pleasantly surprised when we end up swimming next to one another in beautiful surroundings, paradise blue waters shinning with fishes of thousands colours and sizes. There is that special one that takes all my attention - big, unfazed by my presence, rather ugly and almost as intereted by me than I am by it... so much so that I ignore the current taking me to swirling waters... gently at first but soon enough I'm out of reach! Fear, tiredness, frustration, rage give me no rest when all I long for is fall asleep, hibernate and wake up in brighter days. I'm in for another surprise as I remain upright in these furious waters that curiously haven't taken me away from my friend. Calmness returns when I finally feel I am in no danger.

A simple look from her gives me comfort and wasn't it for her I would have most certainly given up diving.


clairem --- 3 Nov 2006/30 Jan 2007

My heart cries and heals
My heart bleeds and rejoices

But
My mind wants to know
"what should my mood be like?"
The lack of answer
Makes it angry
And crazy
And hungry!

My heart listens and waits...

clairem --- Feb 2007

The death eater

I'm not sure if this a man or a woman even though I've practiced it often...
It recently shape-shifted from familiar faces to something on its own: a shape, a feeling, an attitude, a smell, without a voice yet very loud, without a face yet very ugly, without a body yet very much here... The deal was that I let it sneak in and use my body and my voice to gather energy in exchange of what I was protected. What from, you wonder? From the world out there, of course! The thing is I'm very grateful for what it's done over the years and I wouldn't be writing these few words together now without its help but it got used to being very powerful and is rather reluctant to step down a bit.

So what? It gets enraged and I need all my strength and wits to stand up and keep my energy for myself. When it still gets hold of me, I feel very lonely, sad and useless. It is then a matter of saying "no" to it and when I do mean this "No", it shrinks as by magik... But I must be on my guards as it is back again. I believe that I'm getting the most of it but progress doesn't follow a straight line, it's got so many shapes and disguises that it tricks me...

I'm learning all the time but I feel very tired. Yet I won't give up against this "soul eater".

Le temps est maintenant

Elle a battu en retraite
Tiré la porte en sortant
Son heure de gloire derrière elle
Elle s’est fait oubliée
Un temps seulement… mais
Assez pour changer mes plans

A trop vouloir vivre dans l’avenir
J’ai fini par ignorer tout du présent
M’emmurer dans mon passé
Me mentir
M’éttoufffer

Comme prévu elle est réapparue
J’ai souri
Tendu ma main vers la sienne
Proposant une relation nouvelle
Une relation tout court
Traverser de moi à elle et d’elle à moi
Et on a entonné là, maintenant, un cœur à deux voix

Je tente de rentrer de l’avenir
Vivre au présent
Aplatir les murs de mon passé
Arrêter de mentir
Et respirer

La machine à remonter le temps s’est brisée
Et elle ne retrouve plus la clé


clairem --- 21 Jan 2007

Swirling waters

in and out but mostly in
drawn in without a say
spring back up for a few short moments
drown in the eye of the storm
think there's no return
be swallowed by the monster
and ejected out as if new



know deep inside it'll pass
there's hope and belief
the experience transforms
a second time you're prepared
a third you stand up
the fourth s/he's grown smaller
how many times to gain respect?
how many times to love who s/he is?

it is no time to lock myself in
and wait for the hurricane to pass
and pray it will not destroy me
it is time to watch its majestic spiralling
and allow its energy to penetrate me
and make it alive

clairem --- 18 Jan 2007

The end of the tunnel

The end of the tunnel is getting closer.
Strong smells of life caress my nostrils,
Shades of greys make their marks,
Deafness, blindness are slowly lifted away.

I have come back to life where she had given up.
My blood's running in her veins again.
Volcano humming after some major chaos.
Back from a long exile I finally feel home.

I will not hide escape or desert her this time.
Impatience going, wound healing, trust on its way. Time to grow up.
We'll learn to know each other.

Answer to my sadness and loneliness
Ready to let go, disappear, die.
I will speak the truth, sometime...


clairem --- 31 May 2004

L'échappée finale

Elevée dans une bulle d'amour
Tout au moins c'est le nom qu'elle lui avait donnée
Et pendant de longues années elle y a cru, nuit et jour
Tout en construisant sans bruit sa "belle" tour dorée

Jamais de coups d'éclats, jamais de colères
La vie comme "un long fleuve tranquille"
Mais quand il est parti faire sa vie, le grand frère
Elle s'est finalement échappée dans un imaginaire facile

Oh, pas d'inquiétudes! Elle a survécu
Physiquement présente, attachante, drôle et forte
Les années glissèrent sans l'atteindre, elle était absente
On ne l'y prendrait plus. Une à une elle a vérouillée toutes les portes

clairem --- 12 May 2004

C'est reparti...

Ressorties, les vieilles affaires oubliées,
Le papier resté blanc malgré les années ;
Les rideaux sont ouverts, le mobilier dépoussiéré,
Et je constate avec effroi que ma plume est bien rouillée.

Retrouvé, les souvenirs ; démarré, le décrassage
D'une imagination vivante trop longtemps tenue en cage.
Oubliée, l'angoisse de la page blanche ; noircies, les pages
Sur lesquelles j'ai tout jeté en vrac avant un meilleur asemblage.

Ils ont refait surface, ces fourmillements tant attendus,
Revanche de toutes ces années à moitié vécues.
Plume, crayon, papier et gomme savent qu'ils sont perdus
Puisque vagues, virages ou retours, il n'y aura plus.

Rêvée, l'odeur de l'encre ; réscussité, l'envie d'écrire
Et de mains tâchées de fusain et d'encre de Chine.
Alignés, enfin, tous ces mots traduisant mon plaisir,
Puisque je suis là - c'est bien moi - tout sourire.


clairem --- 17 Feb 2003

Une année est passée...

L'inconvénient d'un blog bilingue, c'est que j'ai l'impression de me répéter quand je veux faire partager dans les deux langues. L'avantage, c'est que souvent, je ne fais pas passer le même message....
Avant d'évoquer mes souhaits pour cette année naissante, j'ai ressenti le besoin de me retourner sur cette année 2006 et de prendre le temps de la revivre en quelques heure ; de reconnaître les événements qui s'y sont déroulés, qu'ils soient petits ou grands, appartenant au monde accessible à tous ou à mon monde intérieur ; de remercier les transformations qui y ont pris place ; de célébrer les découvertes, parfois dans la douleur, de morceaux de moi que j'avais si brillamment réussi à réprimer toutes ces années... Il se peut que pour nombre d'entre vous, ce genre d'exercice soit une habitude, mais pour moi, ce fut une grande première qui je l'espère m'aura permis de clore une année bien pleine et extrêmement positive au plan personnel.

Dans la section sport, Zizou nous aura privé de sa personne en prologations de la finale de la coupe du monde... à partir de maintenant, c'est : allez Titi et Trézéguet!!

Au cours de cette année, je me souviendrai des attaques à la bombe à Dahab en Egypte, une petite ville en bordure de Mer Rouge que le monde avait oublié et qui pour moi était devenue synonyme de jardin d'Eden : vivante au rythmes du soleil toujours présent et des marées quasi-inexistantes, un lieu de rencontres inconscientes. La conscience d'un monde en détresse est venue frapper ce paradis et par là-même m'en a expulsé - qu'il est dur de grandir!

2006 sera une année charnière dans la découverte de mes multiples facettes, en partie grâce à 3 jours entiers passés dans le noir complet. Cette expérience, bien qu'effrayante voire parfois paralysante, m'aura fait découvrir plus sur moi-même que les décennies précédentes.

La première année complète à danser le 5 Rhythms, un type de danse méditation venu des Etats-Unis (oui, oui, il y a aussi de bonnes choses là-bas...). Je n'ai pas assez de mots ni de temps pour dire combien cette danse à transformer ma vie. Et les mots qui s'y rapportent viennent (malheureusement!) souvent en anglais. Si je dois ne faire partager qu'une chose de cette experience, ce sera la découverte, au cours d'un atelier Heartbeat (le battement du coeur) que les émotions qui m'habitent ou m'envahissent ne m'appartiennent pas, que je n'ai pas droit de propriétés sur elles et qu'il est de mon devoir de les laisser vivre leurs propres vies. J'ai compris ce jour-là que non seulement ces émotions me donnaient leur énergie lorsque je les faisais vivre puis les laissais filer, mais que de plus, c'est elles qui me privaient de ma propre énergie lorsque je tentaient de les faire miennes en les mettant en cage...

Enfin, pour finir, mais peut-être aurais-je dû commencer par cela, 2006 restera dans ma mémoire et mon coeur comme l'année d'un fort rapprochement familial, l'année de rencontres à mon sens inégalées, où l'absence de jugement et le désir de découverte de l'autre ont primé. Je suis heureuse de faire partie de ce voyage collectif extraordinaire.

Pour l'année qui vient, qui est là, trépidente, mon souhait le plus fort est que chacun d'entre nous, êtres humains, se mette à respecter notre belle planète Terre. Que nous lui donnions autant que nous recevons d'elle, comme à ceux qu'on aime... Je crois qu'elle s'en sortira, quoi qu'il arrive dans les siècles à venir, mais ce serait chouette que notre espèce s'en sorte avec elle...
Je souhaite à tous une année 2007 pleine de bonnes choses, et que chacun puisse accepter les choses agréables et moins agréables qui surviennent au plan personnel.

Très bonne année 2007.

clairem

Change of year...

Having been in the UK for nearly 10 years (more about this shortly) I hope you'll forgive me that I still remain attached to some French traditions... One of them being that we send to loved ones our best wishes for the new year... in January. According to the tradition, we even have until January 31st - until the year isn't so new any longer... And so I have received many Christmas cards from friends to which I have not replied yet. But I will. It's a promise!!

At this time of year I felt the need to look back at 2006 and take time to remember inner and outer events, acknowledge the transformations that arose, celebrate the discovery of unknown - or rather obscure - corners of the real me... in a word take time to wrap it up properly. Some of you might have done so for a good many years but as for me it was a first.

I still feel strongly about the bomb attacks in Dahab back in April, a place I grew to love for its feeling of unconsciousness. I bet that feel might have gone now as the world has caught up with this small garden of Eden. (see Dahab, my sacred womb posted in April 2006)

I will remember 2006 as being a major year in my life, not least because I committed to spend three full days in complete darkness (see my experience of Darkness visible in full, posted on 20th Oct 2006). The experience was frightening but I learnt more about myself in those three days than I had in the first few decades of my life.

It will have been my first full years of dancing the 5 Rhythms and I am lost for words as to how much this meditation will have unlocked in my life. I guess the deepest experience (that is, if I can take only one...) came about in September during a Heartbeat workshop in London... suddenly it became cristal clear that my emotions don't belong to me, that they have their own lives to live... it was right across my face and deeply rooted in my heart that should I acknowledge them and let them go, they'd feed me of their energy. On the contrary should I try to own them and make them mine they would drain me of my own energy... Please visit the link a call to dance for more info about what the 5 Rhythms are and see emotions, emotions, emotions

France lost against Italy in the World Cup Final, Zidane being sent off for... well, you all know what for. What a shame. Allez les bleus!



Last but certainly not least, this year will remain in my heart as the beginning of a healing process in our family. Several events along the year make me believe that we are on an awesome personal and collective journey that allows us to meet and acknowledge the other for who one is, without judgement or expectation.

Now in 2007, it is time for wishes and resolutions. On my wishlist, far ahead of all others, come the desire for all of us human beings to be more respectful of our planet Earth. I believe that she will go on in the coming centuries with or without us, but I'd rather imagine it with us.
May 2007 be plentiful and may we accept and take responsibility for both the pleasant and the less pleasant of what happens in our personal lives.

Happy 2007

clairem

My life

you've sculpted a life
of sharp angles
the end product
showing so many look-alikes
uninspired
unfinished
unloved

you've used
too few tools
those you knew
how to handle
anger
resentment
victimisation

you've painted a life
of strong contrast
but you missed
too many colours
nuances
shadows
rainbows

you've used
only a paint-roller
to make it quick
without fuss
black
white
no grey areas

you've filmed a life
you said was mine
but my character
remains a stranger
unrelated
isolated
fearful

you've shaped a life
you wanted me to live
you'd only forgotten
to ask me
permission...
Not granted!

you've written a life
that wasn't mine
I am walking
out of your story
that I know
all too well
to let my dreams impregnate me

my page is blank
my words many
my colours countless
my tools varied
my character my friend

clairem --- 2 Jan 2007