In the quiet expanse of time, I find myself grappling with truths and untruths, wondering if I deceive even my own heart into believing I've attained tranquillity. Indeed, I am in a state of well-being, owing to the strides I've taken on this journey of self-betterment. Yet, the undulating waves of emotion persist – highs and lows interweaving like threads in a tapestry. Perfection remains elusive, and perhaps that's the beauty, for I've poured my essence into every endeavour.

Now, as I stand at the crossroads of zero, an architect of my own renewal, I embrace the task of rebuilding from the ground up. Metamorphosis courses through me, rendering me unrecognisable even to myself. Laughter spills more freely from my lips, though occasionally restrained by the shadows of doubt. Tears flow more earnestly, yet at times, I still restrain their cascade. Solitude becomes a cherished companion, a realm I delve into to nurture my soul. Simultaneously, the embrace of friends becomes a celebration of my being, an affirmation of the love I hold for myself in their company.

In this delicate dance, I witness the scales of life gradually finding equilibrium. The pendulum, once erratic, now sways in a harmonious rhythm. The art of relearning tranquillity unfolds before me, a masterpiece in progress, painted with the hues of experience and wisdom.

Time, the patient sculptor moulds each fragment of my existence. And in its embrace, I find solace. For while the road ahead is veiled in uncertainty, I stand here, resilient, embodying the truth that healing is a symphony of seconds and seasons.

And as I mend, I extend to you, a wish that your heart finds solace too. In this dance of existence, in shadows and light – may we emerge stronger, taking flight.

Sweet Serendipity

you stumbled upon the pieces of me

and i'm so glad that you did;

life will never be the same.



You stumbled upon the pieces of me

i'm relearning how to to breathe

life will never be the same;

you set my heart ablaze.



I'm relearning to breathe

would've suffocated if you hadn't met me

you set my heart ablaze;

I am forever grateful that I found you.



Would've suffocated if you hadn't met me

but now inhale more easily

I am forever grateful that I found you...

Sweet Serendipity.

5 minutes.
I sit on the water. The water’s surface is calm and quiet.
While the strokes continue, I look at the person sitting in front of me.
I can only see their back, but I’ve become used to it.

4 minutes.
The coxswain is calling starts.
There’s only a few minutes left, but I cannot keep time.
Everything’s happening so fast.

3 minutes.
The judges call for the boats to line up.
Gracefully, we glide across the water.
Smooth and kept.
Our balance leans the boat port-side, but it is soon restored thorough the echoing voice of our coxswain.

2 minutes.
We’re in our lane. I now take in the presence of the other boats.
They look fierce and prepared, then I look back into our boat.
We need to stand just as strong.
We are strong, if not stronger.
I remember that, because there’s no backing down.
I will not show fear.

1 minute.
Coxswain tells us to sit at three-quarters slide.
The point is adjusted and voices become silent.
I am reminded of every day I worked at practice.
Down to the last hour.
Down to the last minute.
My concentration becomes keener.
I take my final reassuring breaths.
I am fearless.
I am strong.
I am a rower.

0 minutes.
“All boats, ready.”
I dip my oar in a bit deeper. The silence is almost frightening.
My nerves are on a thin thread.
I breathe deeply. There’s no turning back.
“Go!”
“Three-quarters, half, three-quarters, full, full.”
“Power 10! Let’s do this! That’s 10! 9!”
Only three sounds can be heard.
The placement and swing of our blades against the boat.
The coxswain’s encouragement.
My ragged breaths.

I don’t dare look away.
“Keep the pressure, girls! We can beat Oakland! They’re a boat-length ahead! Bring me up to their 8 seat!”
I disregard the alarms going off in my body.
I exert all of my energy. I’m feeling lighter.
“We’re gaining on them! Get me to their 7 seat!”
Time is nothing to me.
I cannot think, only do.
My sole thought is my technique.

“Ladies, we’re walking them! Bring me to their 3 seat!”
I don’t doubt my coxswain’s words, but I am tempted to look to the side.
Our boat leans starboard for a stroke, but jolts back in balance with the next stroke.
My body begs for a rest, even a let-up.
But that’s exactly what the other teams want.
A chance.
A single chance to dominate us.
But I won’t give in.
Not now, not ever.
“We are even with Oakland! We’re in the last 500, girls! Don’t let them catch up!”

The last 500…?
But we have gone so far.
I won’t give up!
“Ladies, power 10 in 2! That’s 1! 2! That’s 10! 9!”
This is the last chance…to show them everything.
My will.
My strength.
My resolution.
The time is now!

Suddenly, added adrenaline runs through my body.
My breaths become more ragged and I feel a bit high.
I don’t let up.
The horn goes off, signaling our finish.
I lose the will to move.
Our coxswain tells us to paddle, but relearning how to breathe seemed more important to me.
Regardless of the silent screams of pain in my body, I obey my coxswain’s order.
We wane off after a while and once all boats cross the finish, we congratulate the other clubs.
I’m becoming tired; my body is crying, but we’ve succeeded.

Everyone worked hard.
We shared everything.
Endurance.
Hardship.
Strength.
Courage.
Friendship.
C­onfidence.
And there’s only one way to show how strong we really are.

We row.
And that’s all there is to it.

Life is the treasure and knowledge is the fire to kindle and wisdom the outcome to distill it

Poverty is taking away food from a fellow human being
Poverty is not being grateful that you have slept having eaten a comfortable meal
Poverty is going out there with a poor self image and using the presence of others to mask your inadequacy
Poverty is not knowing how divine you are, your soul content

Poverty as a woman is not being able to say how you feel and what you feel because you are afraid of rejection or disappointment
Poverty is trying to make a guy feel insecure because you yourself are insecure
Poverty is trying to have multiple ****** relations to either draw a man or men towards you or simply for the sake of trying to fuel your self esteem
Poverty is dreaming and letting the birds talk about it as a could have been
Poverty is stabbing a person you love dearly in the back
Poverty is blaming society, culture and circumstances at home for not progressing forward
Poverty is killing because you are stuck in unorderly primitive and unruly state and you do not know tranquility

Poverty is wanting things to remain the same because it protects you from growth and the awe of advancement
Poverty is living in the past and endlessly trying to change the present
Poverty is not knowing what to say because you have forgotten how to compose yourself in the presence of others
Poverty is thinking for short term satisfaction breeding inevitable lack of long term contentedness

Wealth is inviting the future fearlessly
Wealth is loving abundantly
Wealth is joining the heart's dance by yielding to emotions of pure positive vibrations
Wealth is making the heart intelligent so your desires are not  of a marginal durability
Wealth is seeking the truth because it will wash away the lies and test your bravery as it opens up the wounds and the pain of reality
Wealth is knowing that in giving a lot and asking less more than half the time; you remain abundant
  Wealth is imagining what a future 'you' would be like and in pursuit you strive to make your future self proud
Wealth is having an open mind and seeking first to understand than to be understood
Wealth is trying to find better solutions for either parties, a higher way; which healthily benefits either parties

Wealth is having someone who will support you no matter what
Wealth is sticking to divine principles because they will stand no matter what
Wealth is treating another better than you treat yourself and in essence you treat yourself as the greatest being
Wealth is being patient and persevering for good things because you will honour them as you understand what it took to earn them
Wealth is making a promise and keeping it, it boosts the progress of the whole Universe; even the promises we make to ourselves
Wealth is cleaning up after ourselves and engineering our personhood to not rely on insubstantial and baseless objectives and mantras
Wealth is taking a stand for one's own life and not waiting for a hero to pull up the yardstick
Wealth is going to the dam with a  broken rod and teaching yourself how to fish until a master comes and philosophises your decorum, approach, conduct and credo on the whole process of being independent and going out into the world,
Wealth is unlearning all of the miseducation that we have been fed since the day we were born and relearning and rewiring our psyche to be conscious and cosmically aligned with our divine purposes and use the resources around us to make the raw a tangible gem and vice versa.

Say no to poverty.
Live a sincere life of truth and meaning, we only have so much time to pay off our debts until we're rich enough to give back to the world again.

Trust =  faith, belief, hope, conviction, confidence, expectation, reliance

The sordid talk of “trust”…

A recent email communication has inspired me to research and clarify the word “TRUST”. What does trust mean to you? When you set your alarm at night, do you ‘trust’ that it will wake you up in the morning? What happens if one day, it doesn’t? Would you then ‘distrust’ your alarm clock? How many chances would the alarm clock have to fail you before you shopped for a new, more reliable one?

Do you ‘trust’ that someone received something you left for them, or do you follow up to ensure receipt?

The Doctor-Patient relationship is based on “TRUST”

I don't remember a time I 'trusted', truly trusted, anyone. That is until I began working with dear therapist. I was thinking about how it takes a lifetime to gain trust and only a moment to lose it....sadly.... And I was reviewing the times the word 'trust' has been written or spoken by DT in the past 5 years. I dare say he has written, or said, the "T" word more in the last five years than I've ever said in my entire life!

Examples: (as you can see, I'm all about the 'evidence' big grin)

DT said: it took you over a year to develop the  trust  to let me know some things directly from your words....
DT said: Give ME your hate - because I am not making the pain go away. I won't go anywhere if you do.  Trust  me.
DT said: I ask that you try to  trust  what I am saying here and continue to commit to this our work together.
DT said: I  trust  in you and the strength of our working relationship.
DT said: you can  trust  that I and others will be there to help and support.
DT said: You will continue to challenge my concern and trustworthiness because this is what you have needed to do to protect the fragile self that has over learned self-reliance.
DT said: I will not abandon you because you are only going to lean into "trust  and need" to the extent that you are not collapsing.
DT said: You are slowly growing in your capacity to tolerate these feelings in the presence of another  trusted  person - NOT AN EASY TASK!
DT said: I understand is a long process and  trust  /fear/shame is involved.
DT said: Building  trust  with others and within yourself takes a long time.....given your starting position.
DT said: I insist that we have the  trust  and honesty about how you are doing and what you need.
DT said: There is so much learning, relearning,  trusting,  questioning, testing that you are doing. I  trust  that you will give it your best and your best will be good enough
DT said: Rest your head and  trust  that you are safe in your space right now., no one is going to hurt you and you are wrapped in your blue blanket with my faith enclosed.
DT said: I accept your anger at me for this (not that I like it…) and I  trust  that we will continue to work through new challenges honestly.
DT said: As you learn to  trust  and open up with the shame and fears and we keep you fully in your body during these times
DT said: Fundamental  trust  in the therapy relationship can take years and you are getting there slowly and slowly is necessary…
DT said: make arrangements with 'best friend' or someone else you  trust  to take your meds and give you only enough for 2 days at a time.
DT said: I  trust  that you will bring your fears, needs and whatever else shows up.
DT said: you are in the middle of a giant, long term test of me and others on whom you might have some  trust.
DT said: If I gave that impression, then that was my own "stuff" getting in the way of  trusting  you in knowing what is best for you.
DT said: The nature of your  trust,  distrust, anger, perceived loss of me is a major "therapeutic" aspect of your healing and our work together.
DT said: you can  trust  that I and others will be there to help and support.

Wow! That's a WHOLE lotta "TRUST" to push and push and push....and then to shatter into a million pieces in only a moment....

Did DT teach me to "trust"? Yes, he did.

...but more importantly, he taught me that it isn't safe to trust anyone. Not even a therapist who extended a 'life-line' to you every single night for 2 years.

I "trust" that he isn't "here" tonight.

I trust that he discarded me and left me here alone to try to put back the shattered pieces of my life...by myself!!!

Just as he trusts I will make the best decision for myself. (that sounds to me like he has thrown the proverbial 'trust' ball back into my court)

Dear Therapist, I see your "trust" and I raise you a "discarded, shattered, afraid, little girl"...who, after 5 years and thousands of dollars working with you....is back to trusting no one. And more deeply wounded than ever. I trust that the knife in my back will hurt for years to come. And I trust that the bad taste in my mouth will remain after a few bottles of wine.

Trust....my new 'drinking' game...I will drink 1 glass of wine every time I hear, or read, the word 'trust'…I should be sufficiently drunk, or at least buzzed, the majority of the time!


**Trust....trust - no - one!

Tossing and turning.
Unlearning abusive systems and relearning loving skills.
Becoming a dream keeper as a rebellious angel child anything is possible.
So I am very soulfully strong and heart-meltingly adorable.
I provide nightmares for my worst enemies.
And sweet dreams for my dearest friends.
Anyone in the middle is going to live with their political aspirations.

I hope she knows what she's getting herself into.
I hope she knows what your heart sounds like after a night of
comparisons between her handwriting and mine.                                                                                                                                      
I want you to know that I am through with dumbing
myself down to fit inside your god complexed hands.

Don't tell me I never tried to save us.
I wrote you songs with knives on my palms
and your ears were anything but listening.

I had a dream about you every night since you told me
you didn't know how to love anything with a heartbeat and hope.
I started sleeping again when you came back, and oh when you came back...                                                                                                                          

I am not sorry that my temper is as short as the lifespan of us.
I am not sorry that your smile is the only one that ever made me
want to wake up in the morning.
I am all pain and long long longing and she has always been
a storm with a heart dead set on your stillness.
Our problem is that I never stop shaking long enough for the dust to settle.

I've been writing with the same pen for four years and
you still only recognize my words when she plays them back.

Let it not be confused, foggy or incomprehensible-
you were the one.
Until the one became none and I stopped being a number when you stopped counting miles.

I hope she loves harder than a woman with dementia, relearning parts of you every morning
in the places you reserved with my first and your last- maybe next time.

Maybe next time, maybe next life will be different.
Maybe I'll be patient, stronger, I'll stop covering my smile. You'll stop pretending to be in love.
I will stop shaking and the dust will settle and her poetry will make you sick.
Her poetry will sprout evening primroses and she won't know that you always fall asleep before midnight
or that you're allergic to flowers that bloom when the sun is down.

She kept her songs, they kept so little space,
The covers pleased her:
One bleached from lying in a sunny place,
One marked in circles by a vase of water,
One mended, when a tidy fit had seized her,
And coloured, by her daughter -
So they had waited, till, in widowhood
She found them, looking for something else, and stood

Relearning how each frank submissive chord
Had ushered in
Word after sprawling hyphenated word,
And the unfailing sense of being young
Spread out like a spring-woken tree, wherein
That hidden freshness sung,
That certainty of time laid up in store
As when she played them first. But, even more,

The glare of that much-mentionned brilliance, love,
Broke out, to show
Its bright incipience sailing above,
Still promising to solve, and satisfy,
And set unchangeably in order. So
To pile them back, to cry,
Was hard, without lamely admitting how
It had not done so then, and could not now.

nudni ludzie zawsze mają coś
do powiedzenia

-

boring people, always have
something to say,

bo to zawsze znaczy gawarić
         o innych -

because it always means
speaking about others.

3 ******* nights,
i've been mitigating "concern"
for a light source
via a candle,
   and a samsung tablet...

what has resorted
in giving me the most comfort?
what prometheus came down
with onto the plateau...

what the demigod son of
zeus came down with,
with, electricity?!

                  fire, fire is comforting,
in that it warms,
but also illuminates...
what is a thunder bolt?
light... and then?
  electrocution!
         no more, no, less!

the cats agree...
i'm good with:
from earth you came,
unto the earht you will return...
in between?
i need to pour some wax
into my hand,
just, to "make" sure...

                    danke (dir).
hier, mein zeppelin!

          was war was:
        mit die Elisabeth-Gruß?!
             tragen-zu komödie-skizzieren?!

english people talk too much...
   englischvolk spreschen zu viel...

i'll speak my german,
via anglican grammar...
                for a reason...
       beyond the reason of:
well, i've integrated...
there's no other reason for me
to "integrate",
other than to,
disembody myself from
these, corrupt people...

              ich bin deutsche,
durch fälschen...

            i had to...
  you think relearning head-banging
was somehow "easy",
without learning some deutsche?!

oh, yes yes...
   ich war gehen mein glauben im
diese fälschung sachsen...

   pierdole...
               nawet...  jeżeli mówię
gminą mowy,
  a nie panem miasta:
tym - germańskim...
                             to, moja: sprawa...

when was, center, osten?
            oh, right... when Warschau...
und Berlin was "osten" off anywhere
beside Paris or Loon'don,
and as far east as Novosibirsk?
as vest as is vest as
is the "pity" showered upon
           Doob'lin?!

i'm waiting.

and in my waiting: who could say...
i have a fetish for german language...
but none of their pornographic materials?

perhaps i would have learned french...
if i knew the post-latin order...
and how the germanic languages use another
order... how even western slavic uses...
post-latin romantic order of words...

best example?
sunflower oil... in english...
in german: sonnenblumenöl...
huile de tournesol in french...
olej słonecznikowy in ****** western slavic -
masovian or galician or...

the sunflower is a "precursor" of...
oil... not elsewhere...
among the french and among the polacks
oil is stressed first...
then the denotation of: what kind of oil?
why i didn't learn french?
oh... i was supposed to forget my mother
tongue...
i would have learned german
with more ease having acquired english...
fwench ****** it oops...

what's that, kind auditory hallucination
of spontaneity and no l.c.d. being ingested?
what's that word?
niemcy? hear that? the word means:
germans...

so what's cooking and more to the point...
who's cooking and what?
languages?
in my vicinity... 4 at least...
one as still acquired...
one in a caste of a broken lending broker...
one as a fetish and one as
a... minor fetish... Paris circa 2004...
and not because i'm english in any way
possible and i have a: the sort of grudge
that a ****** deals a russian a hand...
english superstitious enclaves when being
a tourist in Paris...
as someone not from Warsaw...
i did find a lisp of Bulgahov in Moscow...
it was aired... suspiciously silent...
a dog-whistle you might say...

the old capital was in lesser Poland...
greater Poland and its trade ties to
Brandenburg via Posen...
no one was expecting a Winchester to London
shift... the masovians were being
incorporated synonym in tempus (in time)
with what was to become of the pagan Prussians...
the new rulers of lower buxton & saxony...
punk history lessons...
because the northern crusades only took
place due to some people
defending the last pagans of europe...
the lithuanians...
and the marriage was a success...
as was rome...
the crown that was known
as greater poland, lesser poland...
snippet of pomeranian...
and...

when bohemia became integral to
the borders of defining the holy roman empire...
the crown with the grand duchy of lithuania...
perhaps the post-vikings did *****
a brick that founded the basis of Kiev...
but there's also L'viv...
and as one greek said to me...
there's no Istambul where i look...
there's only a Constantinople...

no... the Notre Dame would have survived
the **** occupation...
Paris wasn't bombed...
London though? it's a miracle that St. Paul's
survived... with or without a fire...

all this history and... no history class back
in school... dates that are like cognitive
tattoos... i am almost ashamed of reciting them...
but then i do have a body without ink...
historical infantilism...
who is to cite the h'american constitution,
the declaration of independence...
who is to cite the magna carta...
who is to convene over the Union of Lublin -
signed in 1569 - that created a single state
of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth -
who is to ask this "neo-nazis" these
germ-an-ans... and the Muslims regarding
their Iraqi "beef" with the Mongols?

is this truly infantalism? historical infantalism?
to remember or at least,
ascribe oneself a continued presence
of these events? what if not in skin alone...
the mind is a fickle embryo that's bound
to be ****** into a whirlpool of:
scientific exploration and "gender neutral pronouns"...

because what the hell is worth my attention...
that a battle of Hastings took place in 1066?
what of the battle of Tannenberg in 1410...
then the teutonic knights were fighting a northern
crusade against a converted people from 966...
and their coalition of lithuanian pagans
and the rabble e pluribus unum?

infantilism... i guess it must be infantilism...
just like those people citing the former
glory of the british empire...
and they being the descendents of former colonial
subjects...
but if they're all so oh very serious...
look at my tattoos! look at my historical infantilism!

i too can play this game...
i too can look bleak with surprise:
oh you think that the northern crusades didn't take
place? the only holy ground is the levant?
not the old forests of mother Prussia?
to me... it's historical infantalism...
to most it's... Al-Ḥarb al-Ahliyyah al-Libnāniyyah...
or the Dissolution of Yugoslavia...
or...

that... "thing" in Syria...
i love how the Muslims love to put down Christianity
as not being the religion of the pacified...
hell... even i have heard of buddhist warrior monks...
and they cite!
my good friend Samir loved citing this to me...
when i was going through my apostasy and wasn't
ever going to be confirmed in the church's
bureucracy...
apparently a Muslim in the west knows very
little about the catholics coming from old Rus...
vicinity...
what's that quote he used...
matthew 10:34 - do not suppose that i have come
to bring peace to the earth.
i did not come to bring peace, but a sword...

and my most beloved quote about
a second coming... in the Islamic hadith...
حدیث نماز خواندن عیسی به امامت مهدی‎
the (hadith of jesus praying behind mahdi)
as cited by ibn ibn ibn abu huraiah
ibn ibn ibn allamah sayyid sa'eed akhtar rizvi
ibn ibn ibn jabir ibn abd allah...
ibn ibn ibn al-husayn al-ajiri and many others...

where will the kind sir, descend?
in Damascus... and again that Syria "thing"...
once upon a time i could find a good
quote with regards to the descent...
his hair will appear as if falling pearls...
his tears this that and the other...
in a: once upon a time you could find
everything on the internet without it being
meddled for herr zensor purposes and -
an objective lack of transparency...

i see no better indicator that a second coming
has occured within the dogmatism of Islam...
if you couple the two "stipends" of:
believable wording to be carried on and on...
until a freak accident like the Syrian civil
war occurs...

it was hardly a civil war in the polish-lithuanian
commonwealth...
given how the swedes felt inclined to invade
and lay their deluge...
because the king was a swede in this...
freakish... monarchic democracy....
and of course the ukranians...
and of course add some spice of the ottoman
nibble...

again: isn't this historical infantalism?
i should be... when people have all the right
to excavate as much from the holocaust
and the dead in the water slave, trade...
trade... which implies the middle ground
of misery while two opposing factions prospered...

to write of such things...
and not need a little sense of how infantile it is
or rather: can become?
in an otherwise pedagogic rubric?
like we, really needed to learn of the fact
that england was under roman occupation...
and how that's a reason to be proud...
as somehow related to the modern
aesthetic splendour of the Italians...
of which the modern germans scoff at...
given their mozart and their "****"
of the opera... and how... oh ****... i'm using
their letters... but how the germans nor the polacks...
ever entertained the ancient romans...

again... this most certainly has to be some
variant of infantilism... why would i recite
some distant date...
mind citing a past and dead and gone?
perhaps... i never really figured out a "way out"...
perhaps i was always playing the mole...
and digging trenches...
looking up psychological erosion of:
being just as bad as the "other side"...

or perhaps i'm just the sort of *******-beater
that forgot to fall in love so so hard
that he would be living with a regret
of getting a tattoo of a name: ИЛOНA
on his left collar-bone?

perhaps one of the two!
let's flip a coin!