lovepoem

walk me again

differently

make my eyes blossom

in the hues of today

melt me into a loveshine

of the shape of the moment

be my impulse and my

unlimited container

meeting ourself

I said to someone, "I love to look into people's eyes - in order to see their soul."
They said, "I wonder what would you perceive in my soul."

Interesting choice of words, isn't it, "perceive".. but the truth is this, (as I soon found out by meeting myself, in no time),
you don't see anyone else's soul, you can only see yours - if you really look. AND you can see the reflections of yourself in other people' s eyes. What you think to be others are only your perceptions of them (or your role in relation to them), but you cannot truly see, know, or understand another... before you know you.

You say to someone, "I hate you", that means they annoy you with something you cannot eliminate from your own perception. You hate the piece of perception that you carry with yourself, actually!
You say to someone, "I love you", that means you love the way they reflect your beauty. That means, being with them you feel amazing. That means - you are in love with yourself and in love with feeling amazing!

Know yourself. Be yourself. Love yourself. Feel amazing. <3

incredible coincidences?

You know those surprising coincidences that come unexpectedly, like a gift of the angels? Like, finding an article about a random girl that sounds Just like Me at The Moment, and having a solution to My Situation pop up that very instant inside my heart.

Like when YouTube screws up and, instead of the song you wanted to play, accidentally plays the song you really truly wanted to hear, that makes you cry with happiness and remember what you really wanted to do. Not that you missed the click. It just happened.

Like a lovely guitar suddenly (and incredibly) being available at a nonsensically low price, simply because you want it so badly, and you have no more money than that.

Today I noticed that I no longer ask “Is this real?” or, “Can this be happening?” or “Why am I so damn lucky?” – instead I ask the angels, “How did you do that???” and I laugh with them. After all, I want to learn from my peers and enjoy the learning so that I can create my own miracles when I want to. Trial and error it is!

Getting shocked about miracles – it’s a little like being a grandma who sees the computer and the internet for the first time, and goes all like “OMG, the screen is moving all by itself!!” “I can see my Canadian friend real time!! Is this for real??” “OMG my favourite concert, for FREE??” (My granny actually said, “OMG, how scary technology has become.” :D )

Hey, it’s time to stop freaking out and see, yes, it’s real, it’s normal, it’s available, there’s nothing “woo-woo” about it, and if you just put your hand over the mouse and start operating the cursor on your “miracle screen”, many more beautiful things shall reveal themselves.

I like to see something that’s about to break, and say, “This isn’t breaking.” People would protest and say, “How do you know? This looks like it’s totally broken.” And I smile and say, “Just keep looking and you’ll see.” And everyone watches on in expectation, and really, it doesn’t break. Then people say “Miracle! It didn’t break, who would have thought!” Hey, it didn’t break only because you guys were looking at it so intently. So one lesson in hand.

We SHARE the train!

The other day on the train, I noticed that a small girl on the opposite seat was intently looking at me. You know what it feels like – meeting a child’s clear, open, curious eyes. Kids are not ashamed to stare, to inquire, to interact. I couldn’t hold that gaze. I responded for about 5 seconds, then looked away (to take a deep breath). Then I again checked to see whether she was still looking at me.

And she was.

That’s where I realized the most wonderful and stunning distinction between adults and children (except size of course… size is fun, you can look over the edge of a table when you’re an adult, and be allowed to participate fully in a conversation – I enjoy that bit most). Yet have you ever thought of how amazing is the ability of children to look into a stranger’s eyes without judgement! A child’s eyes look upon a lady, a man, a healthy person, an ill person, a well dressed person, dog, butterfly, in the same open way, welcoming new impressions, welcoming interaction. How different that is from how adults usually look at each other!

Choose a random adult stranger of your memory, one of those you meet on the train or bus, or at the supermarket, and imagine looking into their eyes for more than 5 seconds. Feels good? Or would you feel cautious before doing that? Looking into an adult’s eyes can be misinterpreted, can be taken as aggression, intimidation, unwelcome sexual interest. Looking into an adult’s eyes, you can find things there that you never wanted to see. You find that the one you’re looking at has found their answers for everything in life, and you have yours; what more inquiry is necessary? Both of you turn your eyes away before needing to face that uncomfortable truth, before your truths start a war against each other.

So today we are grownups. Today… other people’s faces are something we automatically avoid in impersonal situations. The closer the person sits to us on the train, the more we avoid facing them. Isn’t it funny? We worry about things like, what if my glance causes discomfort (to me or the other, or both)? What if eye-contact lasts longer than I intended and leaves a bad aftertaste? What if the eyes that return my gaze… are scornful? What if I mess up the entire hour of my train ride by having become too aware of the person in front of me? Both of us would keep fidgeting, coughing nervously, adjusting our clothes, having become self-aware. Turning up the volume on our music players. Uncomfortable. Judged.

Better not risk that, right? So I keep looking out the window pretending I’m not even here. The others are pretending just like me, after all. (They are watching my reflection in the window, though. Hey, but I do the same too. This for some reason seems legitimate.) Everyone locked up in their comfortable train-cocoon. Shut off from public eyes. We bump into each other while getting off the train, and mumble an impersonal apology, avoiding each other’s face. We move on.

Yet the child in us is alive, don’t you think. Sneaking glances at the window reflections of other grown-up children on the train.