Four of Swords: Forced Rest

And so I'm reading. I'm re-reading bits of my saga, which I wrote in 1999 and 2000. Yellowed pages that smell good, and have water stains on them. The ink I used to write has been smeared and erased in places, and my writing style, twenty years and thousands of pages later, seems too descriptive and overly emotional. But there are parts of me in them that shine effortlessly even now. It makes me happy and sad in equal parts. When I'm looking for a comforting place to hide in and recuperate I hide in there. In the world I brought here in bits and pieces that have never been connected in one, larger body.

I'm tired. Nothing new. Trying to push on, trying to keep walking. I'm terrified of stopping. In this world we live in, where dog eats dog, humans fight over nothing and find nothing to unite them, I am terrified of stopping. I'm chased by a battalion of anger and sadness, people, circumstances, unfinished jobs, unattainable dreams, frustration and tiredness. I need to find a safe place to rest, to put down my burden and sleep. I'm starting to think I'll sleep when I die. I've been chased by Gods, demons and mortals for almost forty three years now. I get bitten a lot, and before the wounds are healed I get new ones. I'm a goddamn geological formation of scabs. I don't even stop to think about it; anyone who gets too close on the other level gets incinerated. The only problem is you can't kill real, actual people without going to jail. Ha ha ha.

I'm tired. I need to rest. I need to hide and live the rest of my life invisible. It's impossible, of course. No matter where I go, they'll find me. I stink. My being is inhabited by my soul, and my soul stinks to them. That small pulse inside called soul colours my entire existence, skin and bone and blood, and it smells of the Other Side. It smells like understanding and forgiveness, taking care of every life from the smaller to the biggest, protecting the weak ones and the different ones and using resources to promote well-being, health and literacy, justice and medical care. It smells like safety and individuality and different families and fucking utopia. I stink of it. I stand out like a flower in an abattoir. And I can't help it. I am what I am, I can't change. I can't stop caring and wanting to protect the ones who can't protect themselves. I can't stop hating injustice, pettiness, vanity, racism, stupid mind-games, cruelty and hypocrisy. It's who I am. I know right from wrong. Loving, evolving, moving on is right. That's what I want for me and everyone else. And those who don't want it, well, I just wish to stay away from them. I don't want to change them, or educate them, or make them change their minds. I can't change them anyway, it's futile. Just want to keep my distance.

This world hates my guts, and I suffocate in it. It will pass. I'll push on. Time is always on my heels, biting me like a hyena, trotting behind me to tire me until I collapse. It circles above me, a carrion bird. And I give him the finger. And I walk on.

I recently came across this poem that pretty much says it all. Enjoy. And if you'd like to support me, please buy me a coffee.

Pursuit, by Stephen Dobyns

Each thing I do I rush through so I can do

something else. In such a way do the days pass--

a blend of stock cars racing and the never

ending building of a gothic cathedral.

Through the windows of my speeding car, I see

all that I love falling away: books unread,

jokes untold, landscapes unvisited. And why?

What treasure do I expect in my future?

Rather it is the confusion of childhood

loping behind me, the chaos in the mind,

the failure chipping away at each success.

Glancing over my shoulder I see its shape

and so move forward, as someone in the woods

at night might hear the sound of approaching feet

and stop to listen; then, instead of silence

he hears some creature trying to be silent.

What else can he do but run? Rushing blindly

down the path, stumbling, struck in the face by sticks;

the other ever closer, yet not really

hurrying or out of breath, teasing its kill.

From “Cemetery Nights” by Stephen Dobyns (Penguin Books: 100 pp., $14.95) Copyright 1997 Reprinted by permission.

Taken from here.

Atonement

"...And it is the people most capable of forgiveness that are the only ones made to atone."

Emi Mahmoud

Conspiracy theories in my shopping basket

People have problems. Serious problems. They begin with the best of intentions and somewhere along the way they lose the plot. 

Losing the plot is OK. I've lost it countless times myself. This blog is a testimony of having lost the plot repeatedly and thankfully having found it again. I have been delusional, I have been living in dreamland, I've been lost in fantasies because there are times reality honestly sucks. So I'm OK with losing the plot. We all do it from time to time. 

Do you know what's not, under any circumstances OK? Being so certain you know what's happening that you disregard any opinion different than your own. That's not OK. Why?

We live in a world of subjective reality. Reality can't be objective. Every person perceives reality in a different way. For example, some people can't perceive colour. Others are slightly, or completely deaf. Even those lucky female prodigies who can see a few million colours (I'm told they have a mutation of the X chromosome) can't see in infrared or beyond ultraviolet. Even those with superb hearing can't catch infrasounds, or ultrasounds. Just imagine how many colours we can't see, how many sounds we can't hear, how many energy variations we can't perceive. What we can perceive is in effect very little compared to what we can't.

Having said that, and that alone, it's self-explanatory we know fuck all about the world that surrounds us. Practically, we know shit. And that's fine as long as you're aware of it. The problem begins when someone is certain of something to the point of dogmatic bigotry. One would have thought that the fact we know shit about the world we live in would be insurance against such attitudes, but hell no. We behave as if we know everything and we can bet our lives on it. That's where the problem begins.

I steer clear of conspiracy theories because life tends to be more complex and weirder than even the wildest theories. I also despise New Age and feel disgust for those hacks who sell people a one-size-fits-all solution for 399.90 plus P&P. No, realigning your chakras will do nothing to improve your life, unless you get off your ass and DO something. Sorry to disappoint. There's no such thing as a free meal or painless self-improvement. However, being who I am and what I am, I've often had to tread the unhealthy territory of energy-related research. Well, conspiracy theorists lurk there like athlete's foot lurks in sweaty trainers, and I'm sorry to say, they stink twice as much.

I recently started a research in orgonites. Orgonites are a very real thing, because they have nothing to do with spirits, bizarre theories or one's ancestors. They transmute energy. They turn shitty energy into healthy energy and protect from electromagnetic pollution. So I started researching, reading, comparing. Found this guy who knows his orgonites. He makes and sells some amazing items. I was excited, because it seemed too good to be true. And it was. This guy (who's also vegan because meat is killing us and a smoker) is certain that the Reptilians are the ones responsible for people being gay. In addition to that, anyone who isn't Greek and white belongs to an evil conspiracy to turn the world population into a homogeneous soup of (gasp!) mixed races. (Son of a gun, this is some serious shit. I already feel my purely Greek genes and vagina shuddering in fear.) So we must stop the refugees from coming to our country (or going to any country in general) because they are, in reality, the hordes of evil incarnate and the servants of Reptilians.

Um, sorry, what?

Now, you go and buy his orgonites, keeping in mind they contain quartz crystals in them, and quartz crystals absorb information the same way a sponge absorbs water. Quartz can be programmed to keep and transmit information ad infinitum, and what's worse, the orgonite by its very nature re-enforces the transmitted information. So you have this guy who makes amazing orgonites, only to have them buzz like a beehive with his bias, hatred and paranoia. If I made the mistake of buying from him, I'd be sick within hours of receiving his creations, and you can't cleanse orgonites. The quartz crystals are deep inside the matrix of the construction, frozen inside the resin. You can't immerse them in water to cleanse them, you can't help them in any way. The only way to contain the damage is bury the orgonite, and they are fucking expensive to substitute them for carrots in your garden.

How do you say to such a person that for all their technical knowledge and ingenuity they've lost the plot? Answer: you don't. You don't because they will tell you you are a servant of Reptilians (or a person of alien DNA, or a soulless human, or whatever characterisation they give to anyone who challenges their fossilised life theory) and disregard you. Oh, and they will also tell you you aren't open-minded and your intelligence leaves a lot to be desired. Then they'll ride off into the sunset in pursuit of their 'holy' purpose. And damn, I don't even have red hair that I love so much in order to be a soulless human. ;) I have regular, boring brown hair, with shitloads of white in it. 

Do you know why it's OK I lost the plot, but it is not OK they did? Because even during my most self-involved phases, there was always a part of me that reminded me I could be wrong. And I heeded that part. I kept it in mind. It helped me not to take myself too seriously.

Here is a site with good orgonites:
https://www.etsy.com/shop/OrgoniteCreations/items 

PS. One more thing. Most species on this planet evolved into having two sexes. It was done to ensure constant renewal of the gene pool. It's simple biology. Well, some people like people of the same sex, or both sexes, or neither. Let's not turn our sexuality into a moral issue. They're just gonads, you know? Not mystical stuff, space conquest material, a cure for cancer, or an ingenious way to re-disperse wealth. I mean, for the love of fuck. Literally. Get over it.
(If you enjoy my content, please consider supporting what I do. Thank you.)

Back online

After two weeks offline I have a running laptop again. Weee! Two friends gave me their old laptop, bless them. I have a history of using old computers and laptops. I've never had to buy one due to the kindness of friends. Truth is, I wouldn't have the money anyway.

I *did* notice that the world did not end during my internet absence. I also noticed how much time I spend on the computer. It's inevitable. I watch movies, listen to music, write letters and stories, kill time on social media. During my offline days, I read books. Lots of books. There is only so much reading a person can do and remain sane. I haven't discovered it yet. I do know I have to stop reading when my eyes burn and my head aches. It takes a long time to achieve that state of bibliophilic grace.

I am watching the sixth season of The Walking Dead. It is a very good series. It shows what happens when the social web collapses completely. Something not different than what's happening in Syria and many other places in the world now. If you subtract the zombies and add the 'good' European countries plus US and Russia bombing for freedom and the local factions killing anyone who doesn't belong to their faction, which is basically everyone else, the brutality and mindless killing is the same. What's happening in the world now is not different than a post-apocalyptic zombie series, but for some reason, human beings don't find this alarming. Unless it's happening in their neighbourhood, it doesn't concern them.

Recently a friend was telling me how lucky we are that we don't have a war here, and don't really realise our privilege. It's true. In a sense, my country is lucky. In another sense, we're not. If I place on the scales outright war and economic strangulation, I am not sure which one is worse. And economic war is happening on a worldwide scale. Billions of people are below the poverty line, or barely manage to live. How did we let this happen to this planet? Why are we not rallying on the streets instead of uploading coffee and doughnut photos on Facebook and Instagram with mobiles we bought on credit? What the fuck is wrong with us?

A few days ago I saw a series of dreams. I no longer remember what they were about, but I remember my state when I woke up. In my dreams I remembered how I felt when I was a preteen. The hope and awe and unbelievable sensation that life was open for me, that all possibilities were open. Now I am older, disillusioned, cynical almost, and so very tired that my soul aches. And it aches even more when I remember even for a little while how I used to feel. That amazing sensation of trust and faith and belief and the deep certainty my life would be so exciting, so amazing, so... magical. I don't dare think about it because it hurts so much and at the same time that sensation makes me feel alive. It makes me remember what it is to have faith and trust and an open heart. It cuts deep to expose how much I've lost on the way, and how much I can, perhaps, rediscover.

Be good to someone tonight. Just to one person, yourself included, and just for tonight.
(If you enjoy my content, please consider supporting what I do. Thank you.)

Please help, this is beyond control and it's getting worse every day.

Please help. This is the biggest refugee crisis after world war two. Almost 20 million people have been forced to leave their homes and half of them are children.

Mr. Gaiman's thoughts on this gut-wrenching issue: 

http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/may/21/many-ways-die-syria-neil-gaiman-refugee-camp-syria

You can donate here:

http://donate.unhcr.org/international/neilgaiman 

If you live in UK, you can also donate by texting 'GIVE' to 61144 to donate 5 pounds to Save the Children charity, or by texting 'NEED2510' to 70070 to donate 10 pounds to United Nations High Commissioner For Refugees. Please help in any way you can. It's urgent and only human to do so.

An urgent announcement

http://dangerousminds.net/comments/awesome_native_american_grandmothers_capture_and_burn

This made me laugh like a mad woman. Way to go ladies!!!

Nearly forgot!

A few weeks ago fans of two different football/ basketball/ volleyball teams got into a huge ruckus and virtually kicked the living crap of each other. One person was stabbed to death and many seriously injured. So it is early morning, I am at the kiosk opening and arranging the newspapers, and shaking my head with disgust as I read these headlines. A friend of mine, Theodore, who's half American half Greek, is asking me what happened. I explain to him that this is the Nature's method of weeding out the stupid ones. At that point another person who hears this conversation butts in and tells me, "yes, and I can tell you exactly what happened." "I'm not interested", I tell him. "No, let me tell you", he insists. "I don't want to know," I tell him, "these people are idiots who get what they deserve anyway." "Yes, you are right," he insists, "but let me tell you what happened." 
This utterly stupid conversation goes on for another one or two minutes, with him insisting that I have to know and me asking him to leave me be. Finally he says, "you have to know because you are Greek." (!!!) Failing to see any connection between the two things, I turn around dumbfounded and ask him, "so what?" Please read the ensuing conversation.

Him: "What do you mean 'so what'? You are Greek, aren't you?"

Me: "Yes, so what? I don't give a toss about it."

Him: "You mean that if an Albanian comes and burns the Greek flag outside your kiosk, you won't care?"

Me: "He can use the flag to wipe his ass with it if he feels like it, I don't give a fuck."

This freaked him out enough to make him go and leave me alone at last.

I AM NOT GREEK, GODSDAMMIT. I am human. Do you have any idea of what human means? I am not Greek, female, orthodox Christian, or any of that social conditioning crap. I am just human. What does Greek mean, besides having Greek education? Greek ancestors? There is no such thing as a pure blood anything! There have been endless blood mixtures over the millennia and that's the way it should be, for healthy genes. Besides, modern-day Greeks can no more lay claim on the great philosophical and mathematical ideas of ancient Greece. At least, not any more than any educated person of any race can. That was two thousand five hundred years ago, people. Do you have anything recent to show me that proves a connection to those great minds? NO. Then shut up. Religion equals fear equals mental poison. And as for gender, it reveals nothing more about me than the fact I belong to the birth giving sex. SO FUCKING WHAT?!

I am only ONE thing, fellas, and get it right because I will not bother explaining it more. I am human. And God/dess knows, NOT PROUD OF IT. How could I? Take a look around and tell me. How could I?

Rage

Qana, 30th of July, 2006

The child that died by your bombs is real. It was alive and breathing just a moment ago. It was probably laughing too, before the war began. Till you took it all away.

The child that died by your bombs could be your child. All that separates your safe reality from the ultimate terror is a twist of luck. And luck doesn’t last forever.

The child that died by your bombs is your child, the one you never had. Because you were not ready for it. Because you could not afford to. Because you chose to live your life without the burden of responsibility for now. That child will not get to live one.

The child that died was killed by all of us. By you. By me. By thinking it’s none of our business. By believing we are not affected. By equating distance with safety and disengagement. By turning our heads away. By choosing to watch something more pleasant on our TV sets.

That child was our child. It was our hope for the future. It could be the one to save humanity from cancer, or a great artist whose genius would have changed our lives forever. It could be the one to make your son or daughter happy. It could be the one to make your day. Now it never will.

The child that died today was you. It was me. It was the image of a tiny me, full of potential, never expecting the sun today would caress my face for the very last time.

Enjoy your glory. Enjoy your victory. Revel in your self-righteousness. And then return home to be loving fathers and mothers to your children, feeling safe. To caress them with those very hands that pushed the buttons which made the other parents mourn. Cause you are doing the right thing. You are making the world a better place. For your beloved children. Until someone kills them.

We all live under the same sky

We breathe the same air

We watch the same stars

Anything that happens under this sky is our business

Every man, woman and child that cries in pain and terror is my lost brother and sister. Is the friend I haven’t met. Is MY fucking problem. Till nobody cries from hunger, terror or violence anymore. Till we all have an equal chance to life and happiness.I may not live to see this but I’ll struggle and shout for it as long as there is light within my soul.

Closing, I would like to dedicate this to a friend of mine, who only recently gave birth to a little boy. This is for her child, for all children. I will therefore use her favorite quote to close: “Be careful, cause you are turning the world into what you see it.”