walks in Lisboa, lessons of karma

i took this day quietly.

starting with heartburn from too much booze. the night before..

then various tasks of daily life, small

pleasures such a going for coffee or cooking okra curry,

a small but slow dinner out, walking home..

at lunch my mind still centered on age, on growing old, on being old.
well, i just don't like it.
and i do not like to recognize my heart slowly adapting to the lessons of frustration more than

doing anything else.

my mind , my thoughts- these expect frustration anyway, but  can be surprised by sudden
bursts of enjoying life. there is a certain elasticity, a remaining plasticity going along with being
awake, with the process of authentic imagination and , rarely, with intuition too.

it is the way, this kind of adaptation, the process during which we crystallize all pain suffered,

it is branded in our flesh and soul during our strife for survival.

and when we are old we get more and more rigid in the movements

of soul and heart, joy is much more faint in memory, vague, always,

so much so that we most times prefer nostalgia and melancholia to the opening and touch

which could wound us once more-and this though we ache all the time...incredible.
o, i don't like to say we.
but sometimes a bit of generalization may be allowed and forgiven.

for the last years all i learned is to deal better with frustration and with being alone.

my heart grew older but not because it was what i wanted, just because this is the lesson

fate taught me.
when wisdom is adaptation to failure, to non-fulfillment in longing and love,
a withdrawal in solitude and a retreat in acceptation of 'as it is' and of the lack of a response i can feel: i am wiser now.

but is wisdom not something very different, to stay alive and shine with kindness
and let happiness win over fear which is so terribly useless?
i try. i try.

for love one cannot fight.
for another person's problems one can stand up
and act, not to win but to be present and to give.

still, it is sad, where i love most i cannot be near,
i cannot ask for help when i am down and low and ill.
and i am not asked, not called :even worse.
this sadness is terrible. i will not remain in it,
and most times i don't.

and i learned more these years: i learned who i am.
it was a hard way learning to laugh...

now, peacefully went home, posting my useless photos,
i don't think much.

but one i know:
silence is an omen today.

silence is not always stillness,
it can be the occult workings of
the Norns, threading and weaving
my present , my future, and it can have
also a quality of misfortune and hidden danger.

in the end, there is nothing to do.
love and life are out of bonds for force
and control.
i just go on, go on on my way as it opens
and shows itself.
not a slave of the storms or bad weather, not a straw-
no, i walk. i walk to the end.
and talk to the wind.

good night. wind.

it rained only for a short time. then

the wind settled, it was warm here.

here..walking with my shadow.

sim..

all goes down the drain..

up or down..ask me