dance, shiva

Shiva and Shakti.


They say the world will stand as we know it until Shiva carries on dancing.



SHIVA symbolises consciousness, the masculine principle.
SHAKTI symbolises the feminine principle, the activating power and energy.

SHAKTI, the feminine (or Prakriti) means energy, power, movement, change, nature. It is the maternal principle – the provider, abundance. In the human as well as in the animal kingdom the mother offers nourishment, warmth and security. There is no greater love than the love of a mother. The mother carries and nourishes the child in her own body. When it is born she provides it with mother’s milk and raises it at the sacrifice of her own self until it becomes self-reliant.

SHIVA, the masculine (or Purusha), on the other hand, is pure consciousness – the unchanging, unlimited and unswayable observer. Purusha has no desires whatsoever; these are inherent only in Prakriti. Purusha is the empty, clear screen onto which Prakriti projects her colourful film.

Shiva and Shakti are manifestations of the all-in-one divine consciousness - different sides of the same coin. In many pictures these two primal powers are each depicted as being one half of the same image; one side female and one side male. The left side is the Divine Mother, Pārvatī, the “feminine” energy, and the right side represents Shiva, the “masculine” consciousness.

Happy Wednesday night.
Happy end of April!
May the month of May be divine, and flowing and full of the best energy.

Love, always.
Yours truly.
M.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsYxLG5G6P0

see

tears

You know what.
I cried the other day, really cried, because everything suddenly felt so artificial, in the world.

I felt this feeling of just how much of what surrounds us is artificial, fake and plastic.

It was just, hideous.
This complete sense of, only holding on to things that are not real, or true.
Just this artificial mass.


I felt how far people have drifted, from what we are.
That we are all just as much a part of this world and the nature as everything else.
We are not superior, or better, or different.
Just souls who want to be free and happy, with fresh air and water and the sky and the soil.
And somehow we have ended up here.

And so I cried.

I want to stay clean with my eating, and everything else, so so much.
I want to feel clean.
And light.

Everything is fine, as long as we still feel.


With love.
Yours truly.
M.

“

invent yourself and then reinvent yourself,
don’t swim in the same slough.
invent yourself and then reinvent yourself and
stay out of the clutches of mediocrity.

invent yourself and then reinvent yourself,
change your tone and shape so often that they can never categorize you.

reinvigorate yourself and
accept what is
but only on the terms that you have invented
and reinvented.

be self-taught.

and reinvent your life because you must;
it is your life and
its history
and the present
belong only to
you.

”

—	Charles Bukowski,The Pleasures of the Damned

“Eating a vegetarian diet, walking (exercising) everyday, and meditating is considered radical. Allowing someone to slice your chest open and graft your leg veins in your heart is considered normal and conservative.”

—	Dr Dean Ornish

wealth/health?

This is brilliant!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mS0YA465ts

BRILLIANT documentary.


And seriously, please watch this amazing documentary called "Food INC".
Please, watch it.
It's truly a well-made documentary.
And the topic is crazy.

Just seriously, it's not that long, make some tea, and think about the world a little.
Seriously, seriously.

This
is
ridiculous
and
really
disturbing
about
the
world
we
live
in
.


Happy Sunday night!
Love to all of you, always.
M.

you

Dear Cutie-Pie,

Recently, your mother and I were searching for an answer on Google. Halfway through entering the question, Google returned a list of the most popular searches in the world. Perched at the top of the list was “How to keep him interested.”

It startled me. I scanned several of the countless articles about how to be sexy and sexual, when to bring him a beer versus a sandwich, and the ways to make him feel smart and superior.

And I got angry.

Little One, it is not, has never been, and never will be your job to “keep him interested.”

Little One, your only task is to know deeply in your soul—in that unshakeable place that isn’t rattled by rejection and loss and ego—that you are worthy of interest. (If you can remember that everyone else is worthy of interest also, the battle of your life will be mostly won. But that is a letter for another day.)

If you can trust your worth in this way, you will be attractive in the most important sense of the word: you will attract a boy who is both capable of interest and who wants to spend his one life investing all of his interest in you.

Little One, I want to tell you about the boy who doesn’t need to be kept interested, because he knows you are interesting:

I don’t care if he puts his elbows on the dinner table—as long as he puts his eyes on the way your nose scrunches when you smile. And then can’t stop looking.

I don’t care if he can’t play a bit of golf with me—as long as he can play with the children you give him and revel in all the glorious and frustrating ways they are just like you.

I don’t care if he doesn’t follow his wallet—as long as he follows his heart and it always leads him back to you.

I don’t care if he is strong—as long as he gives you the space to exercise the strength that is in your heart.

I couldn’t care less how he votes—as long as he wakes up every morning and daily elects you to a place of honor in your home and a place of reverence in his heart.

I don’t care about the color of his skin—as long as he paints the canvas of your lives with brushstrokes of patience, and sacrifice, and vulnerability, and tenderness.

I don’t care if he was raised in this religion or that religion or no religion—as long as he was raised to value the sacred and to know every moment of life, and every moment of life with you, is deeply sacred.

In the end, Little One, if you stumble across a man like that and he and I have nothing else in common, we will have the most important thing in common:

You.

Because in the end, Little One, the only thing you should have to do to “keep him interested” is to be you.

Your eternally interested guy,

Daddy

———

This post is, of course, dedicated to my daughter, my Cutie-Pie. But I also want to dedicate it beyond her.

I wrote it for my wife, who has courageously held on to her sense of worth and has always held me accountable to being that kind of “boy.”

I wrote it for every grown woman I have met inside and outside of my therapy office—the women who have never known this voice of a Daddy.

And I wrote it for the generation of boys-becoming-men who need to be reminded of what is really important—my little girl finding a loving, lifelong companion is dependent upon at least one of you figuring this out. I’m praying for you.




***
This is from a website, http://drkellyflanagan.com/


Thanks, dr. Kelly Flanagan.
Good man.


Love, always.
M.

this

I miss this.

But NO FEAR, lolcats!
I will look into crossing the Gulf of Finland soon. SOOOoooonnn, I tell ye!

Last year was perfect. A. came over for the last gig and then off we went towards adventures.
Which will not happen this year.
BUT WHATEVER.

There will be other kinds of adventures to be found, everywhere, all the time.

And this goes hand in hand with the theme of me feeling like I should be somewhere else.
In the world, I mean.

Weird.
M.

if you really love a writer

“Everyone wants to give a writer the perfect notebook. Over the years
I’ve acquired stacks: one is leather, a rope of Rapunzel’s hair braids its
spine. Another is tree-friendly, its paper reincarnated from diaries of
poets now graying in cubicles. One is small and black as a funeral dress,
its pages lined like the hands of a widow. There’s even a furry blue one
that looks like a shag rug or a monster that would hide beneath it—and
I wonder why? For every blown-out candle, every Mazel Tov, every
turn of the tassel, we are handed what a writer dreads most: blank
pages. It’s never a notebook we need. If we have a story to tell, an idea
carbonating past the brim of us, we will write it on our arms, thighs,
any bare meadow of skin. In the absence of pens, we repeat our lines
deliriously like the telephone number of a parting stranger until we
become the craziest one on the subway. If you really love a writer, fuck
her on a coffee table. Find a gravestone of someone who shares her
name and take her to it. When her door is plastered with an eviction
notice, do not offer your home. Say I Love You, then call her the wrong
name. If you really love a writer, bury her in all your awful and watch
as she scrawls her way out.”

—	If you really love a writer; Megan Falley

This is spectacular.
The idea, the writing.

Spectacular.
M.

experience, my darling

Okay, I feel like I should write a semi-conclusive post about the experiences I've had of late.
There's so much stuff that I think I'm already starting to forget.
And I don't write this up anywhere.

So, where do we start.


Prince Rama and the birthday of the Cinema "Friendship", yesterday.
And the girls being super.
Imagine Dragons - Radioactive. Thankyou, A.
Make my systems blow.
New friends and people, S. and K. and E. a little.
And going out with K, and V.
RHIZOME.
Mutantants.
Tallinn Music Week in Von Krahl.
And Inga Copeland in Von Krahl - the music music music

Spanish one's truth time hitting the nail
on the head

Dance more
Dance
so much dancing lately

Easter service singing

Skype conference talking.
More safety in my own decisions

Della Reese and my ringtone "Come on a my house".
Best decision ever
ever

And one of the songs K sent me just making me get up, around 1am, and spending 6 minutes upside down. Mostly in downward dog, leg up, and trying to get back to my friend, supported headstand.
Why
no one knows
And Hallelujah emerging.
Last time I listened to that, 2nd of September 2006.
And it came back last night
Like I told myself not to listen to it unless I'm home.

Dying my hair dark
Lifting heavy stuff
Warrior time

Rhizome Rave
And new people, new people

And K and M-L.
Just, YES.
YES
And dancing with A.
The dancing

And whiskey shots and freedom

And my Guru cousin's lectures and seminars.
New insight
And logical insight
Techniques and things to do, how to get rid of the unwanted.
And everything to do with his place, Lilleoru.
Flowervalley

Looking for things to fan my flames.

The greedy kid being not greedy.
Change yourself and the world around you will change.



In conclusion.
The not-so-subtle message:

WELCOME
TO
THE
NEW
AGE

I Give Thanks.
M.


Ps, I bet I'll read this back in some time, and not understand one. single. thing.
Whatever.

And below, my trusty, trusty, trusty, trusty Hamsa.

this wolf thing

It has really stuck, you know.

And I quite like it.
Using a chosen totem animal, of sorts.
It's kinda weird that the idea of the wolf and I met. I never in a gazillion years would've chosen a wolf, or thought of a wolf.
But now the energy and the resilience it carries really seems to fit like a glove.
So I'm not saying that I'm now going to become a pack animal or a hermit or a whatever, it's just, it's nice to have a symbol. I like tattoos that are symbols, I like finding meaning and significance in things, so having an animal that for me symbolises something about myself is really great.

And again. There are charts with rough birth dates and Native American totem animals.
BUT. You can choose your own.
If there's an animal you have a very strong connection with (stronger than, "yeah, I like kittens") or the opposite - an animal you are afraid of - then there's probably something there.
And this is not about finding the space you fit into, but rather finding an animal that for some reason you share a similar energy with.

And I really like it.

Hooray for wolves.
M.

les femmes

Women, I think you are all magnificent creatures. 

Happy your day to you, women here and there!

Mothers, and sisters, and daughters, and wives, and girlfriends and girl friends, and teachers, and lawyers, and busdrivers, and waitresses, and singers, and dancers and leaders and followers and CEOs and builders and women with lots of children and no children and women who like staying home and those who like going out, women with sweet natures and women with crazy ambitions.
Just
all
women

A tank, a fire and a fountain rolled into one.
Especially now that spring is coming, don't sell yourself short.
If you won't listen to you, no one else will.
If you won't respect you, no one else will.
Spring is such a feminine season so ride it like a pony, or a wave or whatever you fancy, point is, ride it.

Quote of the day, from A.
"Ditto to you wolf woman!
Lol coach of the female universe."

I think you are all awesome, in how much power you all carry, and for just being so HAWT.

Congrats.

Les femmes.M.

Super tacky, but you get the point.



This is what I was actually looking for.

gypsy

I think in my heart I'm just a massive gypsy who is meant to sing and dance, drink wine, and travel the world.
This would also make sense in terms of my hatred for moving and getting settled in places. Travelling and roaming and adventuring, fine. So, so fine.
So I'm going to embrace my inner gypsy now, somehow.
I'll keep you posted, of course, as ever.

Run towards freedom as opposed to chasing all the restrictions and structures. And whatever, "proper" social conduct. Life's too short and the world's too colourful to be shoving yourself into the wrong shapes.

And besides, Maria is quite a good gypsy name as well, I think.

Cause I mean, why not, you know?
M.

(And I just really like Shakira.)

cats

my world

I like this mug, a whole whole bunch.

Shape your world.
M.

my corner of the world

Would be something like this.

PS. I've been so off blogger for a few days. I usually blog late at night but I've now got myself a week-long gym membership thing (too cold for outside, too little space inside) and whenever I get home I'm just so exhausted.
But I'm getting back on that train!

So, yes. My corner of the world.
This image below is literally the space I would want to live in. Only I would change the Mediterranean map for a similar style world one. It even has an M on the cupboard! I mean, really.
The wooden floors and the floorspace. This is just so perfect.
And the one below that just simply states what I think life should be like. Whether Einstein said it or not is irrelevant (knowing internet quotes he probably didn't). But I do like a whole lot what it states.

Have a good day.
M.

Lips of Babel

Thirteen beautiful models from around the globe recite tongue twisters for http://www.motilo.com in their native language --- And take stock, because this might be your only chance to see that many pairs of sensuous lips, belonging to the world's top models, talk directly at you.
Elle Muliarchyk, photographer, ex-model, artist, curator of tongue twisters, rounded up fifty of her model buddies to recite local tongue twisters in their own language. The result is a joyous montage of beauty and curious sounds.

I love this video so so much.
Women, the glorious creatures!

oh, my darlings

don't fret.
beauty is everywhere.
there are people all over the world who would love to know you, the real you, not the glossed over edited you.
people to lift you, inspire you.
people to raise your pulse, and make you catch your breath.
people to make you see how beautiful everything is, in its peace or in its pain.
people to wonder what your dreams are, as opposed to tell you to let them go.

imagine a lifetime lived like this.
what a wondrous thing it would be.


little miracles - don't chase them away.
don't let other peoples' words break them, or fracture them.
and keep your eyes open for magic.
for the old friend you haven't seen in a while, or someone who passes you who's smiling for no reason, or someone who looks like they are so unreasonably happy that it's almost contagious, or first snow, or last snow, or first flowers, or last flowers.
we walk on ground that lives and breathes, and there's so much awesomeness just around us.

just because someone else has lost the ability to see it, does definitely not mean you have to

with love.
Your.
M.

turn a page

bi-polarbear

"Here we are, she thought, At the edge of the world, the very edge of western civilization, and all of us are so desperate to feel something, anything, that we keep falling into each other and fucking our way towards the end of days."

(Californication.)

remember

"remember,
you're in charge."


I always say, in an ideal world.
Why not though?
What does that even mean?
What does it mean, in an ideal world?

And why is this one any less than ideal?

M.

Серге́й Васи́льевич Рахма́нинов

This day has just been "ugh"

It's been a fabulous-fabulous day really, from beginning to afternoon, then to the middle and the evening, to the very pleasant female-filled end.
Dad made some sweet food, then went and saw the fire-lights-candle-whatever show in one of the beautiful parks in Tallinn with some friends, and then ended up on M's sofa chatting, eating chocolate. I mean, sweet. A sweet day.
But there's still been so much "ugh" seeping out, from everywhere.

My head feels like Rachmaninov's 3rd piano concerto (which in itself is nothing new at all). No movements in particular, just all of it. From beginning to end. If by any chance anyone who will ever happen to read this will have listened to the whole thing, you can relate.
To those who haven't (and I recommend it soooo hard if you can stomach classical music, not all recordings are good though...), it is brilliant and great fun (if it can be called that), but it's intense. And somewhat, like, thick. Over-filled.
It is my absolute favourite piece of classical music or just music or anything ever, but I don't really fancy my own brain feeling like that, from cell to cell.

So that's where we're at.
I wish I had some aloe-vera juice which makes stuff so much better.
But I don't have any.

And I wish I would know a few things which I don't know at the moment, and can't really find out either.
Or maybe I could, but I'm just reluctant.

I want to game. My PS2 and Lara Croft would do.

And I want this flat so much I could actually weep. It is so perfect, for me. It's tiiiiiiiny. Tiny tiny tiny. But what else would I need? I only need a tiny amount of space.
And I don't want to post any pictures because that would only make it worse.
And I'd like to curl up there, in my one room of 26 sq m, and eat ice-cream. Estonian ice-cream. Jesus this is getting so so so
But I can't get it right now, and I really wish, really hope it will not be gone in a few months or so, when I could actually start looking at it properly, but. "ugh". You see? "ugh" crept in.

So.
I wrote a letter. Which in a perfect-hypothetical world would have a use. But in this one it doesn't.


There are so many good people, and I like that.
But I don't like unpredictable behaviour. I ♥ control, or whatever.
No, actually, I don't heart control. It's not control, it's just, with some things I prefer knowing where I stand.
The rest of it can go however it wants to go and three cheers and an absolute whatever to it.

Letters and Rachmaninov.
I ♥ my cat.
Head ööd.
M.