Ploaie.

Estamos escritos de tinte. Y luego llueve.

Let Him Go, Let Him Be.

I know how hard it seems to be without him, and I know how awful it is to let him go. He is your home. But sometimes, we need to evacuate when the fire alarm goes on, we need to leave our home or else we’ll die burning. Leave your home. Let him go. Let him be. let him be. Don’t you claim that you love him? If you really do, you must unlock your chain that’s wrapped around his soul. I know it’s difficult to believe that you won’t ever again be present in his life, but sometimes love means letting go. Are you in love with him, or do you love him? because if you are in love with him, you will need him, however, if you love him, you will set him free. Sometimes love means letting the other person be and live the way he desires. Don’t let your love be the cage that will stop him from flying. Go and open the door for him so he can roam the world, and if you two are meant to be, he will know his way back to you. Until time shows you what’s meant to be and what’s not, let him go. He’s not yours and you are not his. You don’t own each other because love is freedom, happiness, and kindness. Go build your own home now and decorate it with flowers. Love him, do not hate him, but let him go, let him be. Thank him for the experiences and lessons that you needed and then, let him go, let him be. All is happening for a reason, you will soon see.

My life at 30. About hearts, filters and stories.

There are hearts that age faster than the rest of the body. There are also, hearts that remain young in time-consumed shells. There are souls that kneel down in tall, perfect bodies. There are also righteous and immaculate souls in bodies hump-backed by so many burdens. What´s better, which combination brings harmony, wisdom and the feeling of a useful existence? I once said that I would like to die young and this should happen as late as possible. In another approach with regard to the first paragraphs, I should keep my heart young and my soul righteous. The body can be disproportionately disturbed and I would like, after a while, to bend here and there, taking the shape of a question mark. I wish I never run out of questions. But what would the secret be? (and yet, here's another question). I'm only 30 years old. Until now, I have forced some things, even maturity. On one of those rainy days, like today, I read The Little Prince again and it was almost a therapeutic act for me. I knew that all the chase after goods, wealth, status would not bring any good. All the sobriety and the maturity, attributes that seem almost natural in a teacher, will not lift me in any way. I began to play, mostly in my mind, and not to take my life too seriously. I ceased to run after some accomplishments. I have begun to live every little thing with astonishment. I stopped worrying at all the shortcomings. I started to appreciate what I own, little things. I have ceased to have great expectations from other people. I began to get fewer disappointments. I stopped dwelling on negative thoughts. I have begun to be thankful for everything that happens to me. I have ceased to be afraid. I started to look in the mirror, laugh at myself and accept myself as I am. I stopped looking for a mare´s nest. I started to be myself. There´s nothing easy and there is no recipe to achieve a particular state. Our brain makes us go through very good and very bad moments. It can bruise our hearts. If we manage to keep an internal filter, if we dissipate our thoughts, keeping in ourselves the moments and the beautiful words and blocking the ugly things and words, it will be much better. If we realize that the present is the only entity in which we live, we will jump to a higher level of life for a moment at least. Happy people have no past. Unhappy people have only the past to live in. When I say happiness, I am referring to the mixture of joy and suffering not to an adiabatic state, undisturbed by anything evil (such happiness does not exist). I had the great opportunity to interact with elderly people and listen to their stories, to admire them, to discover their playful selves. I had the great chance to interact with children and see their creativity, games, sweet naivety, anchoring in a moment. Analyzing both camps, I realized that silence took hold of me. I set myself other priorities. I decided to play the giddy goat, even the fool; to let some things go and keep what really matters; to keep my calm in any situation; to let love take hold of me; to play every day; to be aware that I have been given a role in a story, and I have to play it as best as I can. I realized that all the architecture of life is built from stories. The way we perceive each thing on a given day dictates how we perceive and live our whole life. A heart remains young by being amazed at everything, detached, by loving full heartedly, by playing. A soul remains righteous through gratitude, forgiveness, acceptance, humility. As a rule, if the two are balanced, the body will also remain in excellent, great and good shape.

I’m Tired of Always Having to be Strong

I’m tired, but even that is too casual, too shallow of a description for the weariness that lies in my bones. I’m exhausted from being strong, from acting like I have it all together, and from being everything to everyone. I never particularly set out to be this kind of woman, yet it seems through the bitter choices and the sweet idealizations of not wanting to let anyone down, I found myself worn-out and lost, wondering if someday someone would be there for me in all the ways I have been there for them. Perhaps it happened by mistake, because the biggest irony is that when others look at me they see me as strong. They see me as competent and able, but inside I would never label myself with those qualities because—while they see me surefooted and steady—inside I am shaking. I tried, I really did. Every morning, despite my exhaustion, I still do. Even when my shoulders slump, and my eyes become clouded from tears of feeling things too deeply, I breathe in and tell myself that it will all be okay—whether I feel like that or not. I suppose I’ve been trying to be strong since before I realized what women like me were called, or that we had our own genre: The strong, independent, self-sufficient woman. It sounds nice, doesn’t it? And I guess when we are told that’s what we should become, then it’s no surprise that we manifest those qualities. But, the problem with being this over-simplified definition of a woman? The world actually believes us. I haven’t met one of these goddesses who, although many would describe her as such, doesn’t also long for help, for guidance, for leadership, for someone to just fall against at the end of the day. Someone she can rely on, knowing that she doesn’t have to be anything other than her beautiful self. The truth is we can sit here with our glasses of wine saying we don’t need a man, but the reality is we wouldn’t be saying that if we weren’t trying to convince ourselves of that fact. The lesson we all can learn is that there is no shame in needing someone. There is no fault in saying: “I can’t do this life thing all on my own.” There is nothing wrong with thinking that two strong hearts are better than one. I’m so tired. I’m tired of living up to this ideal. More than that—I’m simply tired of being strong. I long to be taken care of, not financially, for that sort of thing has never turned my head for very long, but I want a strong arm around my shoulders, someone who can hold me down, no matter the storm I endured that day. I’m done with pretending anything. I’m done with pretending that I am so formidable. I’m simply done with being strong when the reality is, more often than not, I feel like I’m not being myself—playing a charade of feminism. That’s not to downplay who we are and what we deserve as women, but there’s also something to be said for embracing who we are and what feels the most natural for us. There’s something to be said for being soft. These words are those that I ran from for so long because it seemed they had a negative connotation. After all, I was supposed to aspire to lead the ranks and smash the glass ceiling, right? It wasn’t supposed to be enough for me in this life to simply love and be loved. And so I spun my own misery by successfully pretending that I was strong. Everyone eventually believed me. When that began to happen a sore opened inside my heart with the devastating knowledge that I could only fake it for so long. I give up. Not because I have failed, but because I have learned. Can I do anything, or be anyone that I need to in that moment? Yes—but does that mean I am meant to? No. I can’t do it all. At this point I am done trying. I am done being this infallible woman who seems to be able to do anything, and whether it’s in the workplace, with family or friends, —I just can’t do it any longer. I can’t pretend that I have this ability to do it all, and not just that, but with a smile on my face. I can’t pretend I don’t need anyone to help me—that’s all I want. Life isn’t about faking it until we make it, it’s about letting ourselves be real with what we need and want and then being willing to bleed for it. It’s about feeling rather than thinking, and it’s about simply giving in to the passions within our hearts, and the softness of arms that feel like home. Without those things, what is the point of any of this, if it’s not to need one another? Perhaps as more time passes I’m becoming immune to being someone that others only want to see, or maybe the reality is that I’ve never been good at that. But, it seems that I’ve just grown exhausted from pretending that I am this strong. It’s NOT that I am weak, but sometimes, it’s those of us that are the strongest, that end up needing someone the most. I’m seeing that’s where I am now. Don’t we all need someone who’s just a little bit stronger than we are? Someone who can kiss it where it hurts and hug us like nothing else matters. Someone who can remind us that we don’t really need to be that strong—all the time.

Descubrirte

Cuando te descubrí mi mundo se paró.. (o a lo mejor se me paró el ¿corazón?) Cuando supe de tí, de tu auténtico YO, no quería seguir otro camino. Sabía que eras mi meta, yo era tú. Llegar a ti desde cualquier punto. Fuera como fuese. Y cuando parecía que te tenía plenamente, descubrí que volvía a descubrirte

El insomnio siempre es mejor compartido

Y así vamos yendo hacia adelante, que es la única forma de darle significado a lo que hicimos atrás; y así seguimos, buscando todas esas cosas imposibles que nos hagan correr y saltar. Saltar, ya sabes, nunca se nos dio mal. Tú saltas encima de mí y yo amortiguo tus caídas. Nos compenetramos bien cuando no tenemos miedo a comprometernos. Supongo que eso del día a día es

lo que funciona con nosotros. Siempre fuimos más de medianoche y de conversaciones en el suelo de la cocina que de vida y media.

So nice, so cosy, so homy :)