On family constellations

This is just the shortest summary:

Wow. Just wow.

I played myself and arrived to my original family and was welcomed by the helpers who played my father and mother.

It felt awesome.

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During the day I took part as a helper and played relatives of other people. Again, please note that using the word 'play' is in no way to refer to the ongoing events as if they were a theatrical act. Family constellations are in no way a drama sessions in a theater or high school. Whatever :)

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If you are open minded and wish to find connections to your ancestors, wish to find more about your motives and dispositions, and wish to accept changes within yourself then this is the right therapy for you.

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Nuff said, be well!

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The following photo is from the internet. It depicts the Fishermen's Bastion. After the day was over we climbed the stairs to the Buda castle and took a one hour walk around. The Fishermen's Bastion is one of the things we saw.

Constellations

We are invited to take part in family constellations.

The whole Sunday is dedicated to that. Normally, this kind of therapy is expensive, but now it is free for us (me and my husband). We have to participate the whole day and one of the sessions will be about our family.

If you are unfamiliar with this, you are advised to check this or this.

If you are sceptic, it's allright.

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We have been in one constellation a year or two ago and it was amazing. The random people chosen for their roles just behaved shockingly similar (or same) as their 'real' counterparts usually do. The session for our family took two hours I guess, but I lost the perception of time, it was so interesting, and it did solve some serious issues for more than one member of our family at the same time.

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Tomorrow during the day I may be chosen to represent someone's relative or someone's 'play counterpart'. I am a bit afraid, but also am willing to go for it for I trust it is helpful for me and for the family I am helping, too.

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Any thoughts?

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I will report on this event as soon as I can word my experiences.

Never say never

I usually am not a fan of technology. 

But every now and then I acknowledge and/or adore the gadgets of our times.

Recently I am feeling down.

I may find (some of) the reasons behind this stage of depression, but these background issues are not what this post is about.

In this depressed mood, I, by some inspiration, have started to read through some of my old posts here.

And voila', I found that these feelings are not unique in the way that I have already had them back in some 7 years ago.

The state now I am in is not unprecedented.

(in a sense that) I do not have some new, really horrific and incurable mental condition.

I am feeling awful, but it is not anything new.

Actually, this finding is a relief.

Somehow.

In a kind of perverted way, I must admit.

Be blessed!


 

Resolutions, anyone?

I can't recall the last time I made new year resolutions.

I have a journal, and in that I set plans for every month, and for every year. At the end of each month I check all entries, tick plans that I accomplished. More often than not, failures are explained in a few words, too.

I'll give you a glimpse of this journal:

Here are my plans for January 2015 for example... Write 6 articles on the field of agriculture (ordered by magazines). Careful excercise (I have to mind my joints). Maybe some jogging. Write a short story for a competition. More sleep. More reading.

See? Nothing exotic, out~of~my league, but nothing really mundane either.

Although on a second thought... that short story might not get written. That is a bit too much for me. The competition is historically themed and therefore is beyond my comfort zone, but miracles do happen.

But I digress.

I noticed a tendency.

Our cells are said to get totally renewed in every 7 years. It does not mean however, that you are a completely new person in every 7 years, as the transition takes place over the minute, not in one single transformation.

But I do see a pattern.

About 6 to 8 years ago, or was it 9 years ago, when I started this blog, I had to claim my intuitive self.

Until like 6 to 8 years ago, I was rather a woman of principles and ruts.

With this blog I took part in a process that some might label as unleashing, opening new horizons, getting involved in the unconscious.

Now I feel I had my part, and I should be getting more organized to move forward. I need more to be more concious of what I do.

I am not letting this blog go, and I keep writing non fiction as a hobby, too.

But I see the need to pay more attention to how I behave as a mother/wife, how do I work for my payroll, what I read, how much I sleep, how do I choose my daily fitness routine and so on.

I want to reclaim some of my former self while kind of keeping the 'new', intuitive one.

Any similar or opposite observations?
This post is updated by adding a video down below. I used to listen to kd lang a lot back a couple of years ago. My taste in music has changed, but I leave it here as a reminder of the past.

Anger management UPDATED

Last night I had a dream in which I had the chance to verbalize things. In real life, there is this person, who used to be an important part of my life. In fact he never stopped being a person of high importance for me...

And I guess I am (was) as important to him, too.

He did hurt me at times, and he did it so nonchalantly that I have the good faith that he did not even notice how much pain his words had caused me.

I never told him about these scars he caused.

I kept on smiling.

And loving.

Oh, the fool one.

Now, in the dream, he hurt me again.

And now I objected.

The first time ever I stood up for myself and somewhat kindly tried to make him understand that he was actually hurting me now and back in times as well.

In the dream we did not get to the part when he had the chance to react to my words. I woke up. And I woke up with the intention of organizing a meeting.

We have unfinished business, and now I am ready to finish it.

And here comes the update part: 
When in first draft, this post was much longer. It contained bits of information that are irrelevant. The message is that I am ready to smooth bumps of the past out. Yay for me.
And although I did say 'unfinished business' and did intentionally chose a photo# from this particular movie, there is no violence within me :)
Be well, cheers,
Your tree. 

#do you still see the photo?
It is a photo of the ending scene from Kill Bill, just after Beatrix killed his former mentor. The man is still alive, but is standing and is about to say goodbye.

Prague

here I come!

Our choir is attending an international musical festival between 17 and 20 July.

Prague, capital of the Chech Republic is about 8-10 hours' drive from the town I live.

It will be the second time I visit this city and the memories of my last (and first-ever) visit are now coming back to me.

I was 17, bordering 18, the same age my son is now, when I spent 3-4 days, 4-5 nights there with my girlfriend, now a mother of 4, living in NY state, USA. She was my best girlfriend of the highschool years, one of the few.

We set on a plane, and it was first-ever plane flight at 17, bordering 18, you know, Hungary is small, the only other occassion I had been up off the ground was a helicopter ride above my hometown I enjoyed when I was about 15.

So there we were, young ladies with a supportive family background to explore a bit of the world, to explore it on our own way.

Memories....

I started the journey as a die-hard atheist and I guess you guess the ending to that part of the story.

Ahem.

Before the journey I was contemplating ways of quickly removing myself from the depressive state of being alive. I did not jump nor did I swallow any poison or anything like that, but.... I went to Prague instead :) And although I was still wondering of ways of killing myself in any (actually: in almost all) of those poetic locations, I surely did not.

That would have been quite a stress on my dearest girlfriend, now I come to think about it.

What a heck of a selfish person I was back then....

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Now, after a bumpy ride of 5 university years and 20 years of marriage (not less bumpy), and many other events later, Prague, here I come again.

return to poetry, now official :)

I am attending a 10 week poetry course that started this Friday (27 Sept).
It is organized by the writers' group and the leader is a young poet who comes to the classes from the capital.
What does this mean?
I've been experiencing some shift and being-out-of-place lately when visiting online sites, fb included, of writers of various genres. I felt I was the odd one out because everyone seemed to have focused on writing, and by that I mean writing every day, some no matter what, and some in genres that make the hair rise on my back. Don't get me wrong: it is a-okay to focus on writing while you are a writer.
I think I've just figured out that I was just not a writer. May never be, and this feeling is kind of liberating.
I am someone who writes, but writing is not my everyday profession. Writing helps me and I'd like to help/entertain/educate others, raise consciousness whatever, but I am no tradesman.
I am Dario Naharis, if you like, I write when my Muse tells me so, and while I love, love polishing my style and gathering technical tips for writing, there is life and unless the not composing of a writing makes me feel uncomfortable, I do not compose anything, thank you Gustav Holst.
So I feel the pressure on me is lifted and I am free again.
And what will I do with this new-found freedom?
I will write, you guessed it right.

where

has everything gone?

i surfed some of my old posts.

i found poems, lyrical and descriptive traces of inner struggles, little wins and little fails. experiments, enchantments and explanations.

like a world of wonder, a strange journey, an exploration.

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where has all the inspiration gone?

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my spirit is failing me.

at times i just wish to stare at the blank, white wall of my bedroom.

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i have even fantasized about writing a short-ish story of someone totally immersed in a want to stare at the blank, white wall of his/her bedroom - but that's another story.

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where has all my wit gone?

and humor?

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i've always been somewhat of a dry person, with a dry sense of humor, less of a sanguinic temperament, but this has gone way to far, period.

at days i have the sense of being like 100 years old, not wanting anything and anyone from life at all.

and while it may seem spiritually ok to not wish to 'gather worldly goods', this again, has gone too far.

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yes, but not the cave UPDATE

I don't know if any of you take part in the Lascaux Flash contest, but in case you have not heard about it, here's me, spreading the word.

there is a photo to use as a prompt, but the writings are not judged upon how strong and obvious their connection is to the photo.

the number of contestants are already over 120, and there are 7 more days to enter.

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My one titled 'Gratitude' appears on the site. it is a somehow dark story, not at all well-crafted. huh, I do not read and write English that mush these days. anyway, I worked on the first idea that popped into my mind, huh, that woman has a strange mind, i hear you sayin' :)))

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A fellow blogger and faraway friend, Paul's version is also up, it's about a small kid. Paul knows a lot about kids. I liked his submission a lot.

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My story is No 125. I dedicate it to my dearest Vesper who once said that writing enabled her to live another life whenever she felt like it.
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Update on Monday, 17.
The number of stories border 140 and there are still a few more days to enter.
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one of the seven

this last one wobbled around

and turned sour -

like a leaf leaping off the oak

when winter corners 

the last refugee of summer

of all my lives

this last one keeps mumbling -

like the last cricket voicing my 

song for life

at the tip of my whiskers

________

uhm, take this as an attempt at getting back to where i started: poetry, or rather, attempted poetry.

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you might remember (and i blogged about in on my other, english language blog): the novel i wrote in november 2010 was accepted by one editor and refused by the other. i took part in a virtual writers' course and i guess i learned a lot.

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well, not a lot lot, but just enough to get a distance and see the faults of my writing.

i used to write easily, with all my passion, but with a few important mistakes.

dramaturgy, the drive of characters and the development of a character, or rather, the lack of these are my totally weak points.

now i feel stupefied by all the rules, but i think it is a normal to feel so.

hm.

so, i kind of re-embrace my roots (attempted poetry) to keep the passion alive.

at the same time i started to write a short story with all the rules in mind (to improve my writing).

this second goal does not feel easy because instead of my heart, i have to write with my head.

mondsee

what if, for one day,
the palm of your hand,
still radiating summer heat
held me close.


what if, for one day,
the cliffs of the Alps,
wondered under the lake
and got soaked in fish.


that day, that one day,
lingers on
no matter the mirror -

perfections and illusions

tonight i had a dream.

in this dream, for the thousand time, i met a situation, a circumstance, something, someone (choose one of your preference) that has been lurking around in my dreams, my everydays, my visions, my emails, my life in the past 10 or so years.

all these years i was well aware that the haunting, the tempting, the wish, the opportunity, the chance was not real.

i did toy with the idea of trying to rush in, of quitting, of swaying, of falling apart, but i remained calm, well, mostly on the outside, with turbulences, whirlwinds, lapses of reasons inside - and kept the status quo.

but no matter the facts, the reactions, the reasoning, the logic, i kept dreaming, having visions and dreams of what ifs, and what if nots.

today the dream was different.

i saw, felt and understood the aforementined something as it always was, or what i always knew it was but was tempted to refuse to see, feel and understand.

yet, for the first time it felt realistic.

it was a palpable, everyday situation.

it might mean i am getting closer to a solution, if any, or to that i am simply closing any future pathways to any chances.

the dream might mean that i have no illusions anymore.

i am still in awe of the depth of the dream.
do share any of your thoughts this post has awaken.

the song may or may not represent the feelings of one, or more of the parties involved. basically, i am not crying over anyone, including myself - but a little crying every now and then is relaxing, a must if you like, and listening to kd lang duetting with roy orbison does always good.

unconscious

she watches you rising from sleep in the morning.
she lets you look at her getting dressed.
she hands over the butter at the table.
she turns the water-heater on.
she waves goodbye at the busstop.
she meets you early in the evening.
she kisses you and you kiss her.
you kiss her and she kisses you.
she readjusts the shirt you are wearing.
she puts the empty plates into the machine.
she draws the curtains.
she finds the pair of socks for you.
she eats the chocolates you brought her.
she nests by your shoulder as she dozes off unconscious.


another day is coming.
just another day.
just another day.

this is, once again, a writing fuelled by a dream. i guess it is my subconscious sending me soothing messages again. i dreamt about him and her, and it was like dreaming about eating a sandwich.

it is the mundane that we find the hardest to accommodate to.

it is just another day, after all.

photo courtesy of introspectrum dot_blog_dot_com/

i suggest you visit Jason's great poetry right here.

howl along!
this short video is a reminder.
i would like to ask you to visit my other blog.
check the news on the two latest posts.
thank you.

cat in the woods,
i used to walk alone,
wondering at crossroads,
returning to the heap of leaves from yesteryear
under the old oak
watching the days oozing by.


cat in the woods,
i used to walk alone,
hearing no-one,
listening to the moss growing on the bark,
talking to no-one,
saying prayers in the night.

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this may or may not continue :)
i enjoyed writing it, and i hope you liked it, too :)
the photo is lovely, anyway.

a five minute rush

- the body was not found.

- hmmm, uhm, yeah.

- neither was the weapon.

- uhmmm.

- how can you possibly eat in a situation like this?

- see, this is the last bit of my salad.

- there were bloodprints all over the carpet. over the furniture. over the mirror.

- uhm, i saw that one.

- the family had to move out.

- hmmmm.

- you said you were going to finish your salad.

- mmm.

- over the mirror, on the door and up on the ceiling.

- mmm, fine.

- and the patterns...

- what about them?

- they read: go away.

- you mean the blood?

- all over the house.

- the family did go away, right?

- so?

- it is over.

- this is not the solution.

- no, this is another piece of toast.

- you are horrible!

journey-bound

uneasy.

nest has gradually became uneasy.

cosyness has started to hurt, routine to itch.

he needed words and explanations no more.

it was time he fled.

time for a swift journey to -

he paused.

to where?, he wondered.

it itched some more.

uneasy.

Light (entry # 33)

They were called lamps.
Grandma told me her great-grandmother told her so. They were fixed up inside, on the walls and on the ceiling of the lairs, called houses at that time.
But now comes the part that my friends laugh the most: these lamps had their own light even when it was dark outside.
I guess this is just some fancy stuff, a make-believe people say.

I don’t think I eat this up, because not even Grandma has ever seen such a thing.
But her great-grandmother did and her husband too – he saw that one huge lamp fixed on the sky. He got that disease then, or this is how the story goes.
Our family line was ready by then. That great-grandmother was pregnant and we are here because she, unlike her husband, was at a safe place.

Grandma said everything was toast for a long time. At first I didn’t understand, but she explained a word may have more than one meaning. It still sounds funny.

Now all the light we have comes from the Sun and the Moon.

The other evening we were sitting with Hikari beside the lake and saw two moons. One, fragile and thin on the water, one, solid and cold in the sky. I said she was both attractive and unattainable. Hikari said it only makes her more beautiful. He kissed me and talked about men walking on the surface of the Moon.

I love how he makes stories just to me.

elemental contest :)

Jason is having a contest this Wednesday.

There is a photo for inspiration, which I already have because he let us peek into it :)

Today I wrote my contribution as well. It is clearly influenced by a book I’m reading right now (by the way, I’m reading it for the second time), but I digress.

If you visit Jason's site you may read lots of great entries. You may even write your own story, for the rules are clearly set, and enter the contest. You may enter to try to win, but if you arelooking for literary enjoyment, you’ll be having one for sure.

And then there’s the supportive community of published authors and damn good amateurs.

Go!

By the way, the photo is titled ’elemental’.

left and right

With a right hand bent at elbow

a spoon is balanced.

Each drop is being watched.

With a bottle in the left hand

the syrup is given:

'There, there, open your mouth...

it will be okay!'

Order, discipline,

solid arguments

in the left head.

Rational and consequent,

patient to judge.

With a gun swinging in the right hand

the right wrist ripped open,

one foot a-stomping;

the other, kicking a bottle on the ground.

Yelling violently:

'I live as I dare

and you shall not come into way'

And in the right head there's

swirling, taking and re-taking wings,

stumbling, straggling love,

infinite.

One thread, another and the third:

with a slow ripening Indian knowledge

time is a-woven.

Two heads, two times, two hearts.

Upon the skin of the tree, there's a burrow; upon the burrow, there's a drop of water; within the drop of water, there's light; within light, there is the skin of the tree.

Evening, nestle me smooth.

Nestle me, smooth dream,

Look at me when I am with you.

Look right and look left.

Look at me.

I am the mirror.