Θα, θα, θα, θα….

Είμαι σε σύγχυση τις τελευταίες μέρες με τα γεγονότα στην Ελλάδα και το επικείμενο δημοψήφισμα.

Βγαίνουν συνέχεια πολιτικοί “θα το ενα” “θα το άλλ﨔, θα, θα, θα, θα, θα, θα. Είτε υπέρ του ναι είτε υπέρ του όχι. Θα, θα, θα, θα….

Από θα ξεκινά και η θάλασσα όμως, και δε τελειώνει πουθενά. Και ή θα πνιγούμε ή θα κολυμπήσουμε και θα βρούμε κάπου στεριά..

Από θα ξεκινά και ο θάνατος, και φοβούμαστε τόσο να πεθάνουμε, επειδή πάντα φοβόμασταν να ζήσουμε. Η απάντηση όμως είναι να ζήσουμε πρώτα και μετά να πεθάνουμε…

Από θα ξεκινά και το θάψιμο.. πόσες ελπίδες και όνειρα έχουμε θάψει.. ποσες ελπίδες και όνειρα θα θάψουμε ακόμα.. πόσες θυσίες όλα αυτά τα χρόνια..

Από θα ξεκινά και η θαμπάδα… πόσο έχει θαμπωθεί η όρασή μας και η κρίση μας.. πόσο διαστρεβλωμένα είναι τα πάντα γύρω μας…

Από θα ξεκινά και το θάρρος.. όμως στα λόγια όλα ειναι ωραία, στις πράξεις ποιός το αποδεικνύει…

Από θα ξεκινά και το θαύμα.. στο οποίο προσμένουν πολλοί – κ εγώ μαζί – να μη καταστρέψουμε αυτή τη φωτεινή χώρα, τη χώρα μας… Ας νοιαστούμε για το διπλανό μας…που υποφέρει όσο και εμείς.

ΝΑΙ ΣΤΗ ΖΩΗ

ΝΑΙ ΣΤΟΝ ΑΝΘΡΩΠΟ

Με αγάπη προς όλους,

Α.

Who are you?

Our physical condition, as humans, means accumulating continuously and even unconsciously, but still continuously, accumulating..

It might be ideas, hopes, knowledge, information, memories, experiences, thoughts, people, dreams, nonsense even our body is the accumulation of food.

Everything that comes in touch with us leaves something in us, whether we want it or not, whether we realize it or not.

So we gather and gather; so we collect and collect…

But what does it happen when we become so full of all these we collect? what does it happen when we are too full of ourselves?

I remember I used to collect posters when I was a teenager. One day, the walls in my room ended up so full that I could not put another poster on them. The era of collecting posters was over that day.

I will tell  you what does not happen where there is no room left between the walls of our lives; change doesn’t happen; routine happens; life doesn’t happen; suffering happens; love and joy doesn’t happen; nonsense happens.

Life happens when you are empty, and let yourself be guided by Life.

Love happens when you are completely open, leaving behind old experiences and memories and heartbreaks.

Flying and freedom happens when you are light, and flexible, and don’t carry excessive weight on your back.

All these you accumulate, of course, can be yours, but they are not you; all these we accumulate can be ours, but they are not us..

Our perception of who we are is so much distorted that we are so  much identified with what we think, what we believe, what we know, what we think we know, what we eat, what we remember, etc..

If we limit our sky to the ceiling then there will be no sun to look at in the morning and no stars and moon to look at in the night. We will only look at a limited source of light in our room (a light bulb perhaps) that gives light to our limited full of posters walls, and even that light is bound to last for a limited time.

Let’s not limit our life to things which is always something finite. Let’s go all the way, committed and true, and discover amidst of all creation the immensity of who we are. In the end, I hope we will all be led like rivers to the infinite blue Sea..

Love,

A.

It’s love that holds everything together..

Some nights I wonder if we ever look at the same stars at the same hour..

When I was little, I believed stars were shiny pins that held the sky on its position..

I was wrong.. but I was little..

and then I didn’t know Love..

It is not the stars that hold the sky up there.. and the stars are not shiny pins. The stars are not even up there;

but as I said, I was wrong,  I was little, and I didn’t know Love..

The stars are down here and hold the whole world together..

It is the people you love. It is the Love you feel for them that holds the world together.. not only your world, your life, the Universe you create by yourself.. but actually everything together..

that Love that gives you life, that makes your body alive, that makes the winds travel and the flowers dance with their song.

That Love that rhymes with breath, as life cannot be without breath..

and …

Don’t you know, the only distance suitable for us is that of a breath?

rumi-love

Love,

A.

It’s Love that makes the world go round..

`’Tis so,’ said the Duchess: `and the moral of that is–“Oh, ’tis love, ‘tis love, that makes the world go round!”‘ 

Alice in Wonderland


a

Thank you..

For I gave you my heart

and that was brave

and when I needed it you forgave me

and this was bravier.

That I won’t forget…

 ♥

For you showed me what is a mighty heart

and what is strength

for you taught me a lesson about Love

and the difference between heart and hurt.

This I will never forget…

 ♥

For when I was lost in shadows

you were still there

not like a shadow by my side

but as the sunlight

burning my nonsense in the fire..

This I won’t forget…

 ♥♥

Love,

AA

Love is not..

bow-cute-deer-fawn-heart-i-love-you-Favim.com-65544

Love is

not what they tell you.

No matter what you hear,

don’t believe it.

It’s only a word until you feel it.

Love is

not conditional.

It’s not ‘Give me that and I shall give you.”

yet, one can never give what he has not gotten.

And one cannot get, what he cannot give.

Love is

not convenient or easy.

Love takes life.

You fall.

In Love

What was ‘yourself’ falls and dies.

And one

either gives your hand

or passes you by..

Love,

AA

Counting

counting-heartsHow many times a day do you think of me?

How far would you travel to see my face?

How many times have you ever dreamt of me?

And how much do you miss me?

How many lifetimes have our hearts known each other?

Being with you and not being with you is how I count time..

Maybe that is why time with me is kind.

in the end, nothing of all this counting matters..

it is just another nonsense

because..

what you can count does not matter and what you cannot, does..

What you can count, does not count and what you cannot, does..

Love,

AA

C-old or G-old

kintsugi-heart

Going back some decades, I find myself admiring my grandma, when she was telling stories to my sister and I in bed. Her storytelling made the summer afternoons magical, stirred my imagination, so much that every single day I was looking forward to that moment. At the end of the day, I always wondered to myself, ‘How cool it must be to get old and know all these stories’..

Going a few decades ahead, to now, I still admit how cool it is to know beautiful stories, or better yet to make up new stories, and invite others in the world of wonder and magic and mystery and fun. For me, storytellers are like a dark chest of tales and wonders. They weave the threads of the world with their words, imbibing life to what was before imagined or keeping the world in motion. From writers of books to grandmothers. From the man sitting next to you on the bus telling his story on your way home, to the love story revealed by a single look in the eyes of a lover..

Oh, I should not forget, my grandmother used to ask often in the end, ‘What does the story teach us?’.

Truth be told, not many have that privilege, growing older, as my grandma.. You are supposed to get wiser, you are supposed to be taught lessons, but that is not always the case..What did the story of your life really teach you?

And truth be told, getting older, our hearts get cracks.. some get c-old-er.

Truth be told, I repeat, getting older, our hearts get cracks.. but others get g-old-en.

There is the japanese art of repairing with gold the broken objects, named kintsugi, creating a ‘new’ perfectly imperfect version of the ‘older’ one, the cracked one. What they do is fill the cracks with gold, because the fact that the object is broken and has a history makes it more valuable and beautiful. In the end, broken and older is better than new..!

I have come to realize, age is a number and really does not say much..

I would dare ask ‘how many cracks has your heart?’. This question must say more..

And much more, ‘did you become cold or gold?’

Love,

AA