domingo, 27 de agosto de 2017

Kintsukuroi - In the land of dreams

My beloved readers, again I stand here before you who are - maybe- eager to hear from me.
It's been a while and much has happened, mostly unexpected.

I left for France with a happy heart and little sleep, a sweet sacrifice in the night I would not dare change. Great steps were taken while Wallace's legend became a noteworthy part. So much joy and beauty.

We left for Marle to live and feel like barbarians among Romans, to enjoy the hard weather of the Ardennes. The trip was hard, but nice. And then came the news of an outrageous deed. Many have already heard of the heinous acts committed in my home town. Disbelief, rage, utter impotence, and fear, but not fear of death, but fear of loss. Thank the gods none known to me were lost that fatal day, but I did fear loss as never before, and I wept when news came, I wept out of joy and previous fear.
Then the rain came, and it cleansed us, it calmed us, and we spent the night in a camp of wolves sharing mead, joy and new-found friendship. And we were identified as barbarians.

We spent several days, among half-muddied fields, near a Merovingian village, surrounded by greatness of the past, Roman and Barbarian united. I got to see some of my heroes as well, like a fangirl I was all giggly and shy and proud and merry. Such beautiful people, such good vibes.
We trained for battle, we changed sides, we laughed, and ate and drank. And at night, by the fire, staring into the endless skies, the Roman vexilla glowed with the ember color of the peaceful flames before an infinite starry background. And I felt pride in this, the present past. Then a sage did speak, and part of my fate was read, truths from my own self were told, yet I uttered no word, but those eyes did see beyond. And an uncommon relief took over.
Songs of old were sung, and there was much merriment, and the stars brought thoughts in the distance that turned to smiles and wishes, and surprising yet positive realizations.
More people were met and introduced, great conversations with great individuals and excellent reenactment porn I was able to enjoy visually and digitally.
Those were good days!

High hopes on the road back led us to Alessia before taking back to the road. Words, thoughts, plans and deep conversations. Miles and miles that ended up leading me to a lost town were stars were seen again in an unexpected embrace.
A spiritual travel, revelations, raging beast awoken, but mellowed down to a whisper of foundation and joy. I smile.

You know I like being enigmatic, but poetry is returning to me, I wish to sing in images that I can always recall. My ramblings have mellowed down a little, but much is on my mind. However, the ever faithful Amon Amarth accompany me in these night trips to the corners of my mind.
Much negativity has been surrounding me and those close to me, but I defy and fight against fully sinking in. I wish myself positive, looking at the present and at the future, taking my fortune to spread so others may smile as well.

In regard to the previous sentence, I recently read about love. But not as in a romantic love, but love in all its potential. Love, real love, is or might be born from pain, not build on top of it. Loss, betrayal, pain are the foundations from which love must spring. Only then can we truly be happy and share this happiness with others. And it made so much sense to me.
I need to point out that I love Kintsukuroi, the Japanese art of fixing poetry with gold or silver-filled enamel which makes it unique and takes a part of you within. I know what I have fixed, and do not know its shape, but it goes "thump, thump" every once in a while. And I'm happy for it.


I leave you today with 3 gifts:

One is a beautiful sentence from a short video about judging too prematurely:
"A single act of caring creates an endless ripple"

The second one is an excerpt of a play by Shakespeare which I have always believed truly beautiful.
(Two Gentlemen of Verona)


"And why not death rather than living torment?

To die is to be banish'd from myself;

And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her

Is self from self: a deadly banishment!

What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?

What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by?

Unless it be to think that she is by

And feed upon the shadow of perfection

Except I be by Silvia in the night,

There is no music in the nightingale;

Unless I look on Silvia in the day,

There is no day for me to look upon;

She is my essence, and I leave to be,

If I be not by her fair influence

Foster'd, illumined, cherish'd, kept alive.

I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom:

Tarry I here, I but attend on death:

But, fly I hence, I fly away from life."




And the third one is a simple gift, a gift of a thistle...


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