Thursday, 25th of May 2017
There is something comforting about taking my socks off, resting my feet on the grass, and emptying my mind from my own howling thoughts… It’s magical permitting myself to feel the abandonment, the freedom from my personality, my middling interests and existing as an improvised tree. There is something magical about don’t move, don’t think, don’t speak. Something magnanimous about being and sparkle the warm-cold light of the dusk… There is something perpetual about my feet against the fuzzy grass that exhale the demons out of my body skin. //End of May and you are still faraway.//
I think 2016 made me want to connect with my higher-self and now I am discovering or, perhaps, rediscovering the ancient arts of divination. In July/August I started to use the pendulum and dowsing science – it was almost instantaneous – I held a pendulum for the first time and it moved easily and now it makes perfect sense to use it my everyday life. But, I want to move further and start to study carefully the tarot ancient art of divination…
This Wednesday, I went to a beautiful shop in Oporto city, called Mundo Místico, looking for a tarot deck that I would felt empathy and this one in the photo, called the Harmonious Tarot Deck, was the first that I set my eyes on. Even after, going through a catalog of various and beautiful tarot decks this was my final choice.
And finally, when I went home and search for more information about this deck and I discovered that the illustration in it belong to the famous victorian artist – Walter Crane. Life is funny, and mysterious…. I am so mad in love with victorian times and it seems that everything pulls me to these gone days.
!!!I am so eager to try it, and get Harmonious like these Tarot drawings and characters.!!!
Wishing you all a nice weekend full of happy spreads, my lovely ones!!!
Thursday, 17th of November 2016
Amidst the eternity of the unspoken words: here, where life meets an end, I am still much alive, Sir. My beloved, I’ve been burning in this waiting, hoping that a glow of reliance would blush this death lips. Hoping for this perplex world of mine, that lingers behind my eyes, materialize — madly believing, Sir. So please, let me bloom once more, but this time by your side… Let us bloom here, where sorrow does’t numb the days and let us reach that distant place. Let it happen: between the silent trees; let her come: the slender light that shall dim the bittersweet taste in our mouths. Here, where the humanity core dwells, we shall reach the right latitude of the castles in the air.
Porto, 10th of November 2016
Undress the clothes that confine the trueness of this unbodied skin: allow me to know triumph just once! Await, and than drag me through the edge of dark woods to cast my soul over the silver fountains of light: let them fled my fears and the haunting sorrows of a past that is about to revive. Let them replace the dirty mud living in me with aereal white Chrysanthemums; await until my arose and, at my last breath, warm these gelid hands with love and never with doom, ’cause love should always come before it.
11th of September 2016
We hold in ourselves a suspend place called the enclosed garden. Is fairness is made of sparkling roses, gentle moss and elegant little ivies. Our soul knows keenly this place, full enchantments, because every time she faces a war, it is here that she returns to revive. Mine has been there for a while: bathing in roses, eating the magic from starlights — healing. Now, she breathes profoundly, she is genuine and pure again. She is not covered with the mantel of fears that we all wear. She let it fall into the floor to become moss, and than earth. She wears now a translucent dress made of hope, mercy and crystalline grace.
Ingredients that will turn my week into a meaningful one: beautiful hairdos, vintage dresses, books, tea, forgiveness, self-esteem, love, flowers, creativity and quietness.
8th August 2016
I walk alone into a romantic garden where once lovers met, where once someone cried, where once writers wrote meaningful poems to their nymphs and muses… I walk alone into a garden to discover that all of the beautiful things are fragile and soon, to be dead: to become a gentle dust that settles peacefully.
In this garden, everything seems so acoustic and similar to an Andrei Tarkovsky’s movie. Everything reverberates nostalgia and poetry. I walk alone because there is nobody besides me. I walk alone to become one, to find myself in the fragility of this dual world.
Someone once asked me: “Where do you find contentment when everything fails? I answered: In nature, in all the elevated forms of art and in spirituality.”