My Weakness

I've finally learned it. The one single thing I never wanted to learn.

To never show weakness.

Never fucking show weakness.

Because those who are weak will turn their backs on you.

And those who are weaker still will scream and run away from you.

And those who are strong.

They will eat you alive.

They absolutely. Will. Eat. You. Alive.

Pointless Fears

Turns out facing your biggest fear is not scary at all.
Turns out the deepest of sorrows are not one bit sad.
Turns out relinquishing is never particularly wistful.

The tears are cried for the hollowness
that has carved a new face for your existence.

Those Things

You know all those little things. The annoying incidents of everyday life. A knocked over glass of water. A missed phonecall. A forgotten errand. They don't mean much. You shrug and you take one step forwards or backwards and fix things and you're soon on your way again.

Imagine walking through life if each and every one of these little things stabbed you to the ground.

Avaimet nurjiin oviin

Pelatusta palapelista puuttuva pala
Kaupan tiskille unohtunut kuivahiiva
Silmäpako mustissa sukkahousuissa kirkon ovella
Omenapuun väärin leikatut oksat
Eteisen pöydän taa pudonnut passi
Edellisen viikonlopun kukkapaketti teatterin takahuoneessa
Saman illan kolmet juhlat ja myöhässä peruttu tapaaminen
Myötätuntoinen kosketus onnellisemmalla olalla
Häämekon koinsyömä päättelemätön helma
Iloisin hymy kysymyksen väistäneen vieraan huulilla
Suljettuun puhelinumeroon lähetty anteeksianto

Oh, That's Just a Sign

Read this thing today where one person asked the other about something they do or feel and the other person said, "Oh, that's a sign of depression". Learned that I'm depressed.

Which I knew. But I didn't know how much of this stuff that I'm feeling is just that. Not sure if I ever want to see the full list.

Nine Months

Five without putting any weight on my leg.
Four now learning to walk again.

Yesterday I left my crutches at home for the first time.

No, I don't quite walk yet.
There is pain.
There is swelling.
But I'm taking steps.

And I've realized that there is now another monthly date in my calendar. The 4th because it is the date I had my first date with my husband and I still count every month, soon 212.

And the 26th because it is the date I was injured.

Drawings: Travel Sketches

                                Pikkulepinkäinen
                                (taustalla ruskosuohaukka)
                                Kuusi, Siuntio 21.7.2016

                     Kiikala, Salo 9.7.2016

                      Vanha Porvoo 30.6.2016

                                Merikotka
                                Täcktomintie, Hanko 21.6.2016

Close to Oneself

How is it that one can be so close to oneself only when one is hurting so much that everything else in the world disappears?

Any external constructions flush away with tears, dropped off miles ago on the side of the road, deemed too heavy to carry. Barefoot on the harsh ground.

Former forged expressions forgotten in emptiness, developed at last into insignificance. Depression painting the whole landscape with quickly evaporating water.

Alone, likewise, having lost it's meaning when everything else is gone. Inside and outside turning out – and in – to be just the same naked thing.

Just this one moment now as hope is gone, the future forgotten, the past broken into unreal unreachable dreams. The pain blossoming in you, so vibrant and alive, forgiving, allencompassing. Present. You.

Polvivammani: diagnoosi, prognoosi ja yleinen tiedotus / My Knee Injury: Diagnosis, Prognosis and a General Announcement

Loukkasin jalkani lokakuussa 2015. Huolellisesta lämmittelystä huolimatta vasen pohjelihas repesi näytöksessä joka tanssittiin erittäin kylmällä lavalla. Lihaksen pitkittäisrepeämä parani nopeasti ja ongelmitta mutta oli huomaamatta aiheuttanut nilkkaan pienen liikerajoituksen. Nilkan liikerajoitus pakotti puolestaan sääriluun virheasentoon joka muutamaa viikkoa myöhemmin pamautti polven normaalissa kevyessä liikkeessä. Polveen ei tullut suurta vammaa, magneettikuvassa paljastui rustovauriota. Erittäin voimakas turvotus jätti polven liikelaajuuden erittäin pieneksi. Rustovaurion pahenemisen estämiseksi lääkäri määräsi polven käyttökieltoon.

Valitettavasti nilkan liikerajoitus havaittiin vasta tammikuussa, sen korjaaminen mahdollisti kuitenkin viimein polven paranemisen. Pitkä liikkumattomuus ehti ehti aiheuttaa polveen osteoporoottisia vaurioita ja aihettaa edelleen kipua normaalin liikelaajuuden hitaasti palautuessa. Suurimpana ongelmana paranemisen aikana ovat olleet polven sitkeä turvotus ja pitkällisen levon aiheuttama polven tottumattomuus normaaliin liikkeeseen.

Jouduin kaiken kaikkiaan viettämään täydet viisi kuukautta varaamatta vasemmalle jalalle ollenkaan, koko tänä aikana polvi ei koukistunut eikä suoristunut normaalisti. Nyt olen harjoitellut seisomista ja kävelemistä reilut pari kuukautta. Polvi suoristuu tällä hetkellä täysin suoraksi mutta on edelleen suoristuessaan jäykkä, enkä pysty vielä kävelemään täysin normaalisti.

Opetettuani syyskauden loppuun apuopettajien avulla, olen ollut sairaslomalla tammikuusta alkaen. Käyn säännöllisesti fysioterapiassa ja kesäkuusta alkaen minulla on ollut 50% työlupa, tosin pystyn opettamaan tällä hetkellä vain pieniä määriä. Polvi ärtyy erittäin herkästi pienestäkin rasituksesta. Kesäkuussa opetan yhtä viikkotuntia, heinäkuun alusta alkaen toivottavasti muutamaa enemmän. Tällä hetkellä näyttää siltä että polvi paranee vielä normaalikuntoon. Fysioterapeutin arvion mukaan kävely onnistuu hyvin jo kesän lopulla ja toivon että olen silloin lähes täydessä työkunnossa.

Samanaikainen toimeentulon, terveyden, taiteellisen ilmaisun ja työn tulevaisuuden varmuuden menetys on ehkä yllätyksettömästi aiheuttanut minulle syvän masennuksen. Lämmin kiitos kaikille yhteyttä ottaneille, olen arvostanut viestejänne paljon. Yhtä lämpimät kiitokset kaikille jotka ovat antaneet minulle sairaslomallani rauhan yksinoloon.

Olen hyvin tietoinen siitä että puhelimessani ja sähköpostissani on edelleen kymmenittäin vastaamattomia viestejä koskien niin työasioita kuin ystävyyssuhteita. Olen palannut osittain työhön ja myös tänne sosiaaliseen mediaan, mutta operoin edelleen rajallisilla voimilla ja teen minkä pystyn. Pahoittelen inhimillistä vajavaisuuttani tässä asiassa ja toivon ettet ota mahdollista vastaamattomuuttani henkilökohtaisena.

Kiitos mielenkiinnosta, kaiken kaikkiaan voin erittäin hyvin ja polven paraneminen etenee hyvin! Halauksia ja rakkautta kaikille!




I hurt my leg in October 2015. I tore my left calf muscle performing on a cold stage despite careful warm up. The muscle healed quickly and without problems but the cramp had caused a slight restriction in the movement of my ankle. The restriction in the normal movement of my ankle forced my tibia to turn in a slightly wrong position. This wrong position caused my knee to give up in a normal easy movement a few weeks later. There was no major injury in the knee, the MRI showed some damage in the cartilage. Powerful swelling caused serious restriction in the movement of the knee. The doctor ordered rest for the leg in order to avoid further damage to the cartilage.

Unfortunately the restricted movement range of the ankle was first noticed in January, but once it got finally fixed, the knee could start healing properly. The long immobility caused some osteoporotic damage to the knee and makes achieving the normal movement still painful as the knee is slowly healing. The biggest problem during the process has been the insistent swelling of the knee and the fact that the knee is now unused to it's normal movement range.

In the end I had to spend whole five months without putting any weight on my left leg and during this time the range of movement of the knee was still restricted. Now I've been practising standing and walking for a little over two months. My knee straightens fully but is still stiff and I cannot yet walk normally.

After teaching the Fall semester with the aid of assistant teachers, I've been on sick leave since January. I have regular physiotherapy for my knee and I've had a 50% work permit since June, although I'm only able to teach small amounts at the moment. The knee gets very easily sore even from small amounts of exercise.  In June I'm teaching one class per week, hopefully a few more starting in July. At the moment it looks like the knee will be healed fully. My physiotherapist estimates that I'll be able to walk normally at the end of the Summer and I hope I'll be able to teach almost normally then.

The simultaneous loss of income, health, artistic expression and the security of my future work has perhaps uneventfully caused me severe depression. Sincere thanks to everyone who has contacted me, your messages have been greatly appreciated. I'd also like to offer as warm thanks to everyone who has allowed me much needed solitude during my sick leave.

I am very much aware that I have dozens of unanswered messages in my phone and in my email from friends and colleagues. I have started some work again and am also partly back on social media but I'm still operating with very limited resources and I'm doing what I can. I apologize for being in this way only human and I hope you won't take my lack of reply personally.

Thank you for your interest. All in all, I am very much fine and my knee is healing nicely! Lot's of love to you all!

The Unwelcome Visitor

The unwelcome visitor appeared again today
not even bothering to knock on the door
just sitting there on a low stool as I awoke
staring at me

Following me from room to room on tiptoes
almost making me forget until I went to stand up
grabbing my shoulders then, close, breathing on my face
pushing me down

Standing impossibly tall behind me even now
long tender arms circling my chest
so soft and so warm and so insistent and so unbearably tight
suffocating me

Making me lie down unmovable and stare at the wall
whispering in my ear the same words over and over again
until they become an incoherent persistent hum
drowning my heartbeat

Clutching at my hand when I almost panic
soothing me to sleep again at night with fervent promises
of hopes and dreams and new beginnings for another tomorrow
sitting down again, invisible beside me

 

Darboukan värittämät askelet

Darboukan värittämät askelet monimutkaisessa ristikossa
Päkiät pehmeästi lattiaa vasten kuulevat jokaisen liikkeen
Rintakehä avaa piilotetut tunteet pyörteiksi ympäröivään ilmaan
Elävä ajatus sähikäisenä kehon pimeydessä
Musiikin pehmeä kumu lantiolla kuumentaa sydämen
Toiveiden pakahduttava halu aktualisoituna tässä henkäyksessä

Ei vielä tanssien, mutta kärsimätön keho pakottaa jo muistamaan. Pitkään kiistetty halu tunkee nyt malttamattomana päälle ja satuttaa välillä niin perkeleesti. Vielä jonain päivänä. Kohta.

Drawings: Haapa, Pikkukoski

                                Haapa, Pikkukoski 30.5.2016

Conditioned for Kindness

I can understand how hard it must be to believe how depressed I really am. I mean, I'm a nice person. I'm a thoroughly nice person. And let me tell you, there is absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent nothing fake about it either. I care about other people, I care about pleasing other people, I desperately don't want to let anyone down, I desperately don't want to hurt anyone.

Oh, of course I do, hurt people that is. Occasionally. I don't imagine I'm a saint, I'm not that stupid. But if I can help it, if I can at all help it, I won't. I'm like the guy in A Clockwork Orange, remember? The one who was conditioned to feel ill when he was confronted with any kind of violence. The same way I'm unable to hurt someone without hurting myself. So I just don't do it. (And well, of course when I nevertheless end up doing it sometimes (like when I'm too depressed to function like I'd like to (and isn't that another thought for another little blogpost all on it's own (damn it))) then of course I feel like utter utter utter crap.)

So when people smile at me and approach me and talk to me and ask me questions and ask my help. Of course I smile at them. Of course I say yes. That's who I am after all, deep down. And then I go home and stare at the wall for five days nonstop because that one single smile and that one single yes has drained all the energy I had and now there is simply nothing left.

I don't resent you for smiling and approaching and talking and questioning and asking either. I cherish it. I love you for doing it. Because it shows you care. And when I smile and when I say yes, I really mean it too. And I still do mean it afterwards. I still do mean it now. There is nothing fake in it after all, I already told you that. It doesn't mean it doesn't kill me a little at the same time. Every single time.

I understand that you are very confused. I was just now smiling after all. I did say yes. I'm very good at convincing you I'm fine, I'm ok, I'm good. Because I am, I really am, I must be to get through this, through all of this, through all the smiling.

You see, I'm doing it for you, yes, but I'm also doing it for me. Much more for me in fact. Because just imagine how exhausting it would be for me to actually go through all the negative emotions in front of you. Neither of us needs that. That is not a way in which things move forward, that is not a way in which healing can happen for me. It might be for some people but it is not for me. Remember my extraordinary conditioning. I cannot heal through confrontation.

It does help too, your smile. That's why I come when you smile. But slowly. Slowly. Too much and it's already too much. I'm still practising this, socialising, living like a normal person, like a healthy person. It's good to practise. I like it. And it's understandable that you'd like a repeat when one practice goes well, I do too. But I have to reserve my strength. You don't want to see too much when it's too much. You really don't. So if I stay home the next day. It has nothing to do with you.

I want.

I want to open the front door to the sun and go running.
I want to loose myself in the garden covered in soil and wearing a wide grin.
I want to choose music on my player again and take the bus to the studio.
I want to turn the compost and carry heavy stones and cut high branches.
I want to call my students and watch them dance and be able to help again.
I want to plan future projects and go to the stores to buy fabric.
I want to go to the gym and I really really really want to sweat.
I want to take the trash out and I want to clear all the pots in the back yard.
I want to walk to work and carry my heavy bags and travel wherever I want.
I want to dance and feel the music inside me.
I want to choreograph and feel the movements shaping in my own body.
I want to feel whole again.
I want to stand and walk and run and jump.
I want to know that I'm strong.
I want to be me.

Drawings: Versoja

 

                    Versoja 28.4.2016

Dropping Stairs

It's a funny thing when you are building your own stairs. The higher you build the stronger the foundation grows. But the first steps are so fragile, so fragile. So you build and build and the storm breaks and your stairs break and you drop down again and you build again and you drop down again and you build again and you drop down again and how much it hurts to drop once you've managed one or two or even three steps, almost there. Back on the hard floor again. Bruises multiplying on your skin.

So there must be a critical limit where the strength of the steps finally holds the weather and supports your own feet. Where you are reasonably safe and perhaps, when the wind inevitably blows or the tree falls down on your path, perhaps then you only break the very last step and perhaps not even that. Perhaps you remain standing high up, secure, ready to build higher, stronger.

It is a dream, that elusive limit. If it exists? Whether there is a danger zone just before? Where you are high enough for the critical fall, but not yet high enough for the critical strength? I don't think your chosen stair design factors into the probabilities. I don't think it matters where you build. This is a universal process.

Down here with the crooked nails and the splinters it is easy to understand those who've decided to just walk the bottom. But perhaps the process of building that first step over and over and over again makes your head stronger to be banged on the wall later. But please don't tell me the wall is actually real. Easier to imagine this boundless floor with infinite sky and limitless nails.

Drawings: Wind

 

                    Wind, Seashore, Akranes 6.4.2016

Missing

I miss the person I was. I miss the feel of my body working, obeying, strong, invincible.

I miss the seamless control over my physicality, the feeling of total symbiosis between my body and my mind, the feeling of being alive inside and out, breathing the heady power of being whole in yourself.

I miss the taste of sweat on my skin, the air in my lungs, the burn in my legs, the tired bliss in my eyes as I look in the mirror, drunk from movement, high on emotional creative energy, fuzzy soft dazed elevated from pushing over every possible limit.

I miss the heat on my cheeks, the blood rushing in my ears, the quiver in my muscles, the pain of pushing but not quite reaching yet, the frustration of aiming higher, the determination of never giving up, the exquisite strength of persistence. Once more, tighter, delicate, precise, with feeling, direction, higher, more, again, now think, alert, clever, bigger, stronger, more, again, now.

I fucking want that back. I want it all back.

It's not about goals, it's not about prizes, not about achieving, not about projects, missed time or opportunities. Who the fuck cares?

It's about feeling alive.

And I fucking want it back.

The Barrier

There is a barrier here, somewhere, just. Only I can't quite grasp it. Just in front of me, shimmering out of touch the moment I draw closer. I can see through it of course. I know things. I can even want things. Only nothing happens. I'm completely unable to lift one finger.

So I just sit here, watching the scenery roll by. Things happening. Knowing what I'd like to demand. Of myself. Watching things inevitably, agonizingly crumple down. Watching my strings snapping one by one by one. Here on my island, drifting slowly free, the strings broken one by one by one. Hoping to slowly shrug off the whole world from my shoulders, drift apart from all my impossible demands.

As what's the point of demands, anyway, surronded by the barrier. Outside or inside, this way or that, no matter, they cannot reach through either way. There is nothing I can do. Except tear apart. Except cave in. Watch things not happen. Feel things become harder, more twisted, complicated. Deny the truth.

Because where is the truth anyway? I cannot see the barrier. So is it there? Each day I fail to find it, it grows an inch taller. How long ago did it already reach above my head? Way above my reach. The only way not to suffocate is to simply turn my back on it and pretend it's all fine here inside. No strings, no barriers, no nothing.

Drawings: The Comfort of Sorrow

                            The Comfort of Sorrow 30.3.2016

Aika toipua

Pelon karkoittava kipu
maailmankaikkeuden uusi valaistus
tarkoitus tiukasti huomisessa
kaikki matkaliput
turvassa lukitussa laatikossa

Tarkoituksena lipua ohi
vieraalta tuoksuvat vaatteet
huomio ylihuomisen lupauksessa
puhtaassa vedessä painottomana
epävarmuuden uskollinen voimavara

Huomio herkeämättä muualla
lehdet tyynessä ilmassa
katse seuraavan viikon kaukaisuuteen
tai ei sovitulla niin väliä
jähmeänä tällä penkillä

Katse heidän jaloissaan
onnellisuuden täydellinen pyöreys
varmuus seuraavan kuukauden paineesta
pysähtymättä eteenpäin
näkymättömät hevosten silmälaput

Varmana tästä hetkestä
puseron polttava reuna nyrkissä
hengittämättä kahden kuukauden päähän
erehtymätön särky unen reunoilla
jäljellä vastikään herännyt huimaus




Hengittäminenkin aukeni valheeksi
huonekalut oli jo viety huoneesta
lupasin sen epätoivolle jonain päivänä
arvoituksen rosoisin ratkaisu
on taivuttava valaistuksen rajalla

Luvattu jo kolmatta kertaa
ikävän keinuva syleily
tyhjänä toiveena tänään ehkä joskus
kellotornien äänetön pyörrytys
kaikki kurottavat kädet taskuissani

Tyhjät kengät eteisessä
pesuainemainos varasti tunteeni
päivämääränä ehkä ei koskaan
lahjoitetut suuntaviitat
vielä laatikoissa kadunkulmissa

Päivämäärä sovittuna erolle
kahdeksan nyöriä solmittuna
vielä jotain, vielä joskus
tiedän oravan piilottamat kävyt
hiekkarannan kimaltavia jyviä

Vieläkö täällä
jos muut ovat muuttaneet taloomme
odotan kuitenkin jonain päivänä
aika peitti kaikki kovimmat osani
hait sanat eilisen lehden ristikkoon




Odotus uudestaan ja taas kerran
kitkerällä levolla kullatut kalterit
jaksan aina kaksi kuukautta
vuodevaatteiden silmitön raivo
eikä pelkoa sokeutumisesta pimeässä

Jaksoin ostaa nenäliinoja
nyt vapautettuna valvomaan öitä
tartun käteesi kuukaudeksi
hylättyjen haaveiden vuorovedessä
makea kaste herkillä versoilla

Tarttuiko lahkeeseeni katkeruutta
päivämäärättömyyteen kietoutunut karheus
kielletyt toiveet ratkeavat jälleen viikossa
tai yhä uudestaan kiertyen
voinko hengittää näin uutena

Kielletty väsynyt voima
varovaisuuden villi kesytön viha
mitään ei tapahdu ylihuomenna
joka päivä astun sen askelen
paikallaan paikoillaan sitkeimpänä

Mitä piiloutui taskuihini
kun unohdin jo peruutetut liput
pelon katse taas kerran huomisessa
ehkä en voi hajota uudestaan
ehkä asuin toisessa talossa

Drawings: Fractals (2)

                               Fractal Petals, no 1 28.3.2016

                               Fractal Petals, no 2 28.3.2016

Colored versions of the Tree Fractal.

Drawings: Fractals (2)

 

                              Tree Fractal 27.3.2016

Five Months

Just that. Five fucking months.

Determination

You are power. You are determination. You are the never ever ending grim dirty resolve to reach higher further and broader that even you yourself deem possible. Your home is in that tight dizzying place of endlessly aiming for the impossible, the palpable realization of the clear shimmering vision deep deep inside you.

You cope by only pushing harder. By never giving up. By the easy trick of simply doing the job of ten people and not giving a damn about someone else giving up because you yourself never do. That is who you are, just there pinpointed is the top and the bottom, the core and the edge of who you are, all of you, all you ever were, in one word; more.

It is compulsory, no need to force yourself inhabit it, it happens every single time in every single situation by the simple fact that it is just how you function. There is no other truth possible for you. And so you enhance it, worship it, you make it your worth, your reason, your moral. The definition of yourself.

And so fuck help me god how completely wrecked you hit the bottom that one Tuesday afternoon when all that, all of it, is denied you with one simple word. For an indefinite time with no knowledge, no possibilities, no mercy. From now on no determination, no power, no diligence, no pushing, no reaching, no courage. Not one whiff of yourself.

How to cope with this one small problem of being denied your only way of coping?

Drawings: Fractals (6)

 

 

                        Yet Another Boring Fractal, Color 24.3.2016

The progress of drawing is shown (backwards) below as I find the different steps create interesting viewpoints of the "same" shape in this case. All the fractals so far are hand drawn (pencil & marker on paper) as the meticulous hand drawing is just so damned much fun (no sarcasm); the utterly satisfying concrete realization of the abstract with your own body. Also I find the hand drawing creates a beautiful softness to the pictures. Colors on the other hand are done afterwards on computer with Gimp.

 

                       

                    

                

Drawings: Fractals (4)

 

          Fractal Stained Glass 21.3.2016

Just messing around with the original: Rose Window Fractal

Drawings: Fractals (3)

                    Fractal Clover (Color) 21.3.2016

                    Fractal Clover 21.3.2016

Siltamme ohuista versoista

Rakensin siltamme ohuista versoista
Kiedoin tiukasti ympärilleni hengittämättä
Ojensin käteni vastaanottavaan lämpöösi
Taivuin luoksesi pehmeytesi voimasta
Odotin sumussa silmät sidottuina
Kävelin hämähäkinseitin harvaan ympärillesi
Kosketin syntyäkseni uudelleen ihollesi
Rakensin siltamme ohuista versoista
Kasvoin ympärillesi vapautuen juuristani

Music. Again.

Music hurts. Opens doors without knocking. Breaks barricades. Rains down merciless. Grasps the past and pulls it in front of your eyes, bleeding, trembling.

Music hurts. Soothes soft layers of sorrow over your body. Sleek, yielding, treacherous with assurance. Envelops you with tenderness that you worked so hard to abandon.

Music hurts. Fills you up, bursting, aching, screaming with echoing emptiness. As an invitation, unavoidable, unreachable. Raw with agonizingly unfulfilled prospects.

Drawings: Reasons

 

                            Reasons Why I Dance 18.3.2016

Drawings: Ahla Andalusi

                    Ahla Andalusi 15.3.2016


Listening to oriental music again. Inspiration from the album Maher Kamal: Ahla Andalusi

As a side effect the heart piercing sorrow of not really being able to move with the music. Is that why I ended up with a picture without feet even though I was thinking of precise steps in my mind choreography?

No point.

No point waking up. Don't believe I'll achieve anything anyways.

No point going to sleep. Nothing yet happened today.

No point checking the time. Will be just the same tomorrow.

No point sleeping much. Never got tired ever now, actually.

No point knowing the date. Cause who's counting?

No point in schedules, really. No rules and regulations in misery.

Drawings: Water

 

                                Water 8.3.2016

Drawings: Fractals (4)

                        Rose Window Fractal 7.3.2016

Drawings

 

                             Flower Arrangement 5.3.2016

Drawings

                    Colors II 5.3.2016

Not.

There is procrastination. There is escapism. There is laziness. I know all about them too, not to worry.

There is that.

And then there is the fucking pain in your whole bone structure that will blind you if you open your eyes and therefore you just have to, you just have to keep sleeping.

There is that switch you had to flick, you were forced to flick it, really, as otherwise you'd have been swallowed, digested and turned to earth by the crushing weight of responsibility, so now you're just floating free in the zero gravity cell you created.

And then there is. Well. Not. Just nothing. The void, the silence, the numb. Just no reaction. Just staying still. Not even ignoring, because just: not. Not doing. Not being. Not. Simple. The empty set. Effortless. A bypass. A solution. A free round. Just one more.

There is that.

And am I waiting for the day when, when someone knocks, I'm not forced to create just another door to close? Wondering what opening them all one day, one by one, will feel like?

There is that too. Perhaps.

Drawings: Growing Up

                     Growing Up 3.3.2016

Drawings: Looking For a Way Out

                     Looking For a Way Out 2.3.2016

Light. Today.

What a difference a small gesture can make.

Today outside, really seeing the sun as Spring for the first time this year. Looking at the jam-packed brightness on the pavement, the roundness of the light in the dusty air. The kind of light that has its own smell and touch and sound.

At the swimming pool, letting yourself at last be completely engulfed by the unconditional exhilaration of continuous movement. The delicious soft burn in your lungs, building up and spreading alertness throughout your body. The vivid present aching pulse in your muscles, the buoyant feeling of being the movement, the slight breathlessness, the welcome warm flush on your skin.

Under water, feeling the smooth silky current flowing around your smile for the first time.

Afterwards tranquil, weightless in the dressing room. Perhaps today, getting dressed again was not a chore.

Sitting in the car, hearing the sand under the tires, the car turning and all the possibilities of life suddenly in the parked cars at the parking lot, in the row of thin trees just there, in the earliness of the hour and in the light all around, permeating inside the car and inside bones, nerve cells, veins.

What a difference a small gesture can make. Seeing your doctor smile for the first time.

Shallow

Not being alive then? How does that feel? Numb, empty, hollow. Limp. There is resistance, so much resistance that it disappears altogether. You're floating. Standing still. Air is still. Breathing shallow, eyes fixed on one point. Keeping them open so determinedly that the world becomes closed off, darkened, non-existent.

You have to relax. Tensing will only wake you up. Hearing will make you jump. Seeing will make you groan. Just relax, breathe shallow, don't look, don't notice how your body aches from staying still. The time disappears. Blessed stillness of the universe. Nothing will happen. Nothing will change.

It is another form of existence. Funny. How you used to crave that, really. Go chasing after it. Perhaps it's easy to bear just because of that; it is another experience. Another lifetime. Another person. To encounter. To embody. To understand. To examine.

What utter bullshit that is! Remembering to relax again now. To not care. You become so skilled in that so quickly. So fast it is scary. Impossible to go back. That's how it seems. Utterly impossible. Never again. Breathe shallow. Don't blink. Don't move. Just relax. Nothing will happen. Nothing will hurt.

Drawings: Forest, a Way

           Forest, a way 26.2.2016  


Btw today celebrating the 4 month anniversary of my beautiful healing knee.

How to breathe?

I'm a feeling junkie. I'm an experience junkie. I'm a junkie for creating. I'm a junkie for being born again, each moment. I'm a junkie for touching others, moving them. I'm a junkie for letting others see how I transform. I need it, I breathe it, I refuse to let go.

This openness feeds me, it waters me, it makes me vibrate life. When I'm surrounded by only surfaces, when I'm forced to close my doors, when there is no fire breathing inside me, out of me, around me, through me. I die. Numb, cold, indifferent. One dimensional.

When the doors are closed, I'm drained of energy. Forced to watch the world, only seeing, forced to react without connection, forced to act without reason, forced to hide without compassion. Every single word, every single touch, every single expression drains me dry, leaves me hollow, pushes me into a corner.

I myself have to open up, to push through, to demand, to open cracks to let air in for the fire to breathe inside. One single spark is enough. It is an avalanche, a breaking dam, a collective hysteria. Welcome, overpowering, beautiful. And in a snap I'm alive again. Breathing the irresistible urgency of emotion and intellect intertwined.

Now to know where to go to find it, where to look to see it, to know how to think to understand it, what to do to create it. The problem of a lifetime. The mystery of the human soul. The answer to the ultimate question. The spark. Not where, not when, not who, not why. The spark. How to be it?

Drawings

                   Colors 20.2.2016  

                   Power 21.2.2016

 

                    Dark 22.2.2016

Music. Once more.

Music is a complicated phenomenon for me. Never neutral. Always demanding. Always there. Always changing me. Always transferring me.

It has always been that way I think. But it has also grown stronger. When dance became my profession I lost the ability to listen to music for fun, for simply listening. I can't hear it with my ears any more.

Music worms it's way inside me, welling from deep deep inside me, coursing through my body, turning me, moving me, touching me, transforming me, evolving me. Creating new meanings inside me.

I also can't cope without it, without movement that explains myself to me. Without the symbiosis of music and feeling inside me. When I cannot move I loose that inside me, that which I have painstakingly formed into the language of my emotion, my logic.

Not being able to speak, to breath, to look inside me, to create new meanings makes me depressed. Empty. Meaningless. Broken. Frozen in time.

Four months is a long time to be frozen in time.

For four days now, I've been breathing again. There is a possibility of hope, of awakening, of a new life in my body, silently vibrating, wordlessly filling my dimensions, blooming in every inch of my skin, heating every infinitesimal point inside me, effortless, unmentionable, alive.

This is my soundtrack.

Zack Hemsey: Changeling

Ne eilisen kuolleet lehdet

ne eilisen kuolleet lehdet
puin väistellen
näin omituksi vaatteekseni
jonka ratkeissa
uusittujen toiveiden
pelko


avautui tänään
kuulaaksi
kun luvattu loputon odotus
repesikin sisälläni
hetkessä
satumaisena suruna

Hmmm. Toipumisen pelosta.

Healing. Today.

Just that. Healing. Today.

No requirements. No restrictions. No reservations.

Simply today; an open option for growth.

Il Villino, Treia, Marche, Italia, 20.12.2014