Yin Yang

From a successful Chinese man:

Six wonderful attitudes that I learned from Chinese and Western cultures:

Tolerance & Proactivity
Humility & Self-confidence
Empathy & Courage

Peter Drucker

Peter Drucker, one of the most insightful minds in a very long time:

The 21st century will be the century of choices, (… not the century of the internet).

The best way to predict the future is to create it.

Macchapputre

Macchapputre, the son,
embraced by Annapurna, the mother.

Segundo a crença nepalesa

Once upon a time, at a mountain in Nepal

From Setu, a holyman:

You are very lucky to be here. This is a heavenly place. You should be thankful to be here. Because of your parents and ancestors you are able to be here today. So, be also thankful for them.

* * *

You need to be respectful to women. Treat your wife, your girlfriend, with the same respect as if she was your mother. There is reincarnation. Sometimes mothers return as girlfriends. You never know, so respect them.

* * *

It begins with one man, one heart, and one woman, another heart. Then, they meet, they fall in love, they marry, and two hearts become one. Then a child borns, and it becomes two hearts again. And the cycle of life continues.

* * *

Wise man is good man, but not the best man.

Groene ogen

by Tristan Savatier

Old wishes, antique desires.
Green gems.
The background, red veins.
The frame, your eyes.

Merci

It’s 9AM. The alarm is punctual. It buzzes and ends my fuzzy dreams. I search for the snooze button. I reach it. I look for you on the bed. I cannot find your shoulder, your lips, the smell of your body. Reluctantly I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, while scanning my mind for your memories. I am lucky, there are plenty of them to fill up the space. The dirty ceiling of that cheap hotel is suddenly filled by the immensity of your blue eyes.

The alarm plays again. I repeat the movement of silencing it; now and then, few times. I resist leaving the bed. The half-sleep image of your eyes is by far a more pleasant sentiment. Eventually, the relentless alarm convinces me to move my body away from the bed. That linen, that mattress, that pillow, do not contain any of your fragrance, which helps me to get up.

I finish packing my small bag. I leave my camera outside. The millions of pixels containing your smile should suffice to comfort me until the next destination, until I can touch the real thing again.

In the back of my mind one question only: “When are you coming for dinner?”

Slow food, slow love, whatever time it takes… I feel like telling you a million words, if you could listen to tem, but I decide for one only: “Merci”.

Blue eyes

She was awaiting for me, sitting at the bar. The skirt was above the knees. The glasses framed the blue eyes. The short hair was harmoniously messed up. Two fingers were playing with her eyebrows. The lips produced a beautiful smile when she saw me. I was late, as usual. As I approached her, half kissing, half apologizing, she simply kissed back to me and smiled. I was not sure if she heard my apologies, but it obviously didn’t matter anymore. We took off the shoes, walked into the lounge and found a corner for us among the pillows and candles. A live band in the building across the street was courteous to play it loud, enough for our not so distant ears. The live tunes mixed well with the local lounge music, the talking around us and our half spoken words. The vibe was great. We had just come from a local restaurant. Before that, we traveled on the dirty streets of that poor city. Before that we chatted at lobby of the hotel that hosted our bodies. And further away from the present, there was emptiness; we hadn’t met each other yet.

The plans for the day, the next week, were as simple as our conversations, our desires. We decided to get away from the city, somehow, and go to the mountains. Few expectations and plans, simple simple, easy easy.

Left my cigarette in her hands, and kissed her again. The eyes were not open. My hands found their frame on her fingers, and my head over her shoulders. Closed my eyes.

Day or night?

The golden stars were shining, something to do with hydrogen being converted to helium, I recall. Their bright light was present in most of the space. The black light covered the rest of the darkness, untouched by the stars. Would it be day or night outside? I asked my realm.

Ephemerous

The band finished playing. I took the chance and sat down. Cleaned the sweat and ordered a beer. My eyes scanned around me. Not far from my table I spotted her, two couples and her, alone. The waitress delivered her fancy cocktail. Our eyes crossed. I stared at her and she at me. I thought about approaching her. But the fear of rejection was still greater than the expectation of joy. I ordered a second beer, while searching for her eyes again. But the friends had her attention now. I decided to go to the bathroom. I guess it was the subtle hope that the alcohol would tilt the fear-pleasure scale. When I returned the table was empty, the check paid. She was gone without a name, without a trace. I finished my beer, dropped few bills from my wallet, and closed the door of the bar behind me, alone.

In my dreams only

Sitting in a chair, going through my own reminiscences, found her image. If she was still alive, she might have written:

I tried to hide my desires for him behind my fears and concerns, until today. Today we made love again. It was not like the first time. The intensity, the flesh, the passion, the sweat, were all the same. The pleasure of his kiss, the warmth of his hands, the incredible feeling when he first went inside, the sensation of looseness that followed, were also the same. But today we had more time to know each other, to savour each other, to discover each other.

The night didn't start well. A senseless discussion about a senseless matter. I argued with him, and repeatedly made clear that I didn't want his countless kisses, his close attention and his soft touches. I lied. I was confused. My heart, still divided between past and future, held the infamous bridge that caught me. I was a prisoner of my own sentiments, aspirations and desires.

I finally succumbed to his charm. It was something in his eyes that I could not elucidate, but which still made me ebrious.

The bridge still existed. But a dash of courage and a sac of desire made me cross it. And once again I gave myself to him; every inch of my body belonged to him; every portion of me was touched by him; sometimes by his strong hands, other times by his tongue that covered my body; still in other occasions the rest of his body rubbed over me as if cleaning myself from previous encounters, as if in preparation for a divine ritual.

My soul had displaced off my body, in a state of mercurial ecstasy. Sometime later, I returned, and could only notice the wet body of my warrior laying over mine, still breathing vividly in my ears.

But I must confess, she never died. And she has never lived, only in my sweetest dreams.

Chapa-quente

Carbon Emissions 2000

By WorldMapper

"... the world need[s] to differentiate between the survival emissions of the poor and luxury emissions of [the] rich." Sunita Narain, 2002

Bad connection

By Fabiola Morais

http://www.goiastexas.blogspot.com/

I tried to contact her, send emails, forwarded links, wrote posts,... tried to reach her eyes, looked for her ears, tried to reach her heart, attempted to touch her soul... bad connection... my life is full of bad connections... maybe is the technology... will revert to drums... and smoke signals... will send letters, handwritten... will disguise myself as another myself... will search in my soul for one whom she has not met yet... who knows... maybe yes, maybe no... same same, but different...:( ... the heart is exquisite but worth pursuing... who knows, one day....:)

Miles Davis - the genesis of a second God

Interviews with: Chick Corea, Herbie Hancock David Liebmann, Pete Cosey etc. They all played with Miles when he met Jimmi Hendrix, Santana, others, and became electric.


Plus the Master himself, Miles Davis.

"I played one way so long that I just had to change my way. In order to give it to you. So you will like it."

"It was no longer jazz, and they were asking jazz critics to evaluate Miles."

"Play through it. There are only two vibes. The vibe on the stage and the vibe out there. Play it."

Impressões

Olé!

My type of bar. Great tapas. Real Sangria. Belas chicas. True Gazpacho. Live music. And the owner, drunker than me.

Miséria é vendida em diferentes tamanhos

They were about five or six years-old, hard to tell.

One had a pink dress, the other orange.

Two smiles were shining from their mouths.

The feet, without shoes.

The noses, dripping.

Hands and feet, dirties.

The playground, a dumpster.

They smiled.

The lens closed on them.

5 ou 6 anos talvez, difícil precisar.

Uma de vestido cor-de-rosa, a outra de laranja.

Os sorrisos sobre os lábios.

Os pés descalços,

os narizes escorrendo,

mãos e pés imundos.

O quintal, o lixão.

Sorriam.

Olhavam para a abertura da lente,

que se fechava sobre elas.

To be Brazilian

I explained while staring at her eyes:

I have wished to be many things in life,

these days, I just want to be Brazilian,

from Brasilia.

To be Brazilian is a gift.

It’s like a burning passion.

Some have it, others don’t.

Some have and loose it.

Others don’t have it, but earn,

C’est la vie.

Expliquei enquanto lhe fitava os olhos:

Já quis ser muita coisa na vida,

hoje só quero ser brasileiro,

de Brasília.

Ser brasileiro é um dom.

É como uma grande paixão.

Uns têm, outros não têm,

Uns têm e perdem,

Outros não têm, e conquistam.

C’est la vie.

PS: a maior vantagem de ser brasileiro no exterior
é que Brazilian se escreve com letra maiúscula.

More than words

By Extreme
PS: maneira!

Pensamentear

Protetor solar, mais uma ou duas coisas que você deveria saber sobre a vida

Despedida em dois atos

"E assim, chegar e partir são só dois lados da mesma moeda"
Milton

Querida,

Parto hoje. Não sei bem o por quê mas escolhi por não te ver pela última vez, ontem.

Decidi por motivos que nem mesmo meus sonhos jungianos poderiam decifrar, de apenas guardar seu último sorriso. Aquele, radiante, como se você tivesse o sol embebido nas vísceras, ali aos pés do escada do estacionamento em Madrid. Assim decidi guardar minhas últimas reminiscências de você.

São cruéis as coisas deste mundo: tempo e distância. Não sei quando voltarei a vê-la. Mas, resolutamente, terei sempre dentro de mim nossos vívidos momentos. Ali, nos parques, nas fontes, no terraço, sã e doente, ébrios e sóbrios, sob o sol ou a lua. Indubitavelmente guardarei as certezas do passado e as esperanças do futuro.

Não te esquecerei.

Besos,

(livre tradução do original)

Querida,

I leave today. Cannot determine why but have chosen not to see you one last time, yesterday.

Decided it for reasons that not even my Jungnian dreams could decipher to only keep your last smile. That, radiant, as if you had the sun embedded in your flesh, in the steps of the garage. That's how I've decided to keep my last memories of you.

They are cruel the things of this world: time and distance. I don't know when I'll be able too see you again. But, resolutely, I'll keep to myself our vivid moments. There, at the park, at the fountains, at the terraza, healthy and sick, drunk and sober, under the sun and under the moon etc. Unmistakably will carry with me the certainties of the past and the hopes of the future.

Will not forget you.

Besos,