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Poetry by William Wordsworth

26/6/2014

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★
Splendour in the Grass

What though the radiance

which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass,
of glory in the flower, 
We will grieve not, rather find 
Strength in what remains behind; 
In the primal sympathy 
Which having been must ever be; 
In the soothing thoughts that spring 
Out of human suffering; 
In the faith that looks through death, 
In years that bring the philosophic mind.



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6 Books That Helped Me Recover From Depression

22/6/2014

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I've talked a few times about how I struggled with depression for aproximately six years, and to this day I haven't relapsed. It's like I'm a completely different person; shit happens and I can navegate life, because I have the apropriate emotional and mental tools. 

Heartbreaking and terrifying things have happened in the last few years that could've sent me into a downward spiral back to square one. But it seems that I'm well-equipped now, emotionally and mentally, to deal with everything. It never ceases to surprise me how I can't even recognise the person I used to be. Reading my past journals is like reading the life of a character from a novel that has nothing to do with me.

Many factors contributed to my healing, from youtube videos to conferences to seminars to books. I often get messages from people who want to know "my secret", and there's no mystifying secret to my progress, my friends ;) Just plain old books and lots of journaling. I would say that 'the secret', the 'password', the 'open sesame', is to actually put into practice all the theory that you get your hands on. Reading & listening to resources is not enough, you must take action. 

Here I bring the books that impacted me the most when I was trying to make sense of my broken self and life. 
★ Leaves of Grass, by Walt Whitman. For a self hating 19-year-old, this book was a shock to the system. I remember my uni teacher reading passages out loud to us spiritedly and ripping his shirt apart dramatically. A very Dead Poets Society era in my life. I owe Whitman major props for encouraging me to love and celebrate myself.

"This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body"


★ Pronoia is the antidote for paranoia, by Rob Brezsny. The subtitle declares "How the whole world is conspiring to shower you with blessings". Pronoia is by far the funnest book I've ever read. It's a masterpiece of pure positive focus. It is not the typical self-help book with theory + exercises. It's a completely different -and refreshing- format. It contains little stories from the author's life (incuding sexual scenarios), outrageous ideas about the meaning of life, inspiration for living life to the fullest with kindness & excitement as the main guidance systems, random acts of creativity, ingenius exercises for the reader, writing prompts, worldy news, and much more. I loved it so much because it catalyzed the reconnection with my inner child. What do I mean by this? 
The major reason for my depression was that I shut off my true self and forced myself to morph into a highly cerebral person, which turned me into a cynic. For anyone who knows me, cynical is the last thing I am. My nature is that of magical thinking, finding + creating beauty everywhere, and believing the best from the world and people. This makes me a very naïve person, to the point where people often wonder about my IQ. As you can imagine, being what my sister calls a "happy-hour-by-the-lake person" makes one the perfect victim for bullies and psychopaths. In my teens, I needed to protect myself, so I turned off who I was and went to the flipside. Pronoia ripped me open because it served as a mirror, and I could not deny that the content completely resonated with my true self. At the time of reading it, I wasn't brave enough to let my wild child self go unleashed overnight in front of others (I did only in my alone time), because I worried about what my friends and family would think ("Why is she morphing into somebody else?" "You've become so fake now, I hate you"), when the reality was that each day I was becoming more and more myself, leaving all my protective masks behind. The book broke me & it's haunted me for years, influencing a big chunk of my life and personality. I also use it often for bibliomancy, it's perfect! 
      
★ Succulent Wild Woman, by Sark. Despite the title, it's perfect for any gender. In fact, so many men loved this book when it came out, that they asked Sark why wouldn't she write a succulent book for men, and she did! I haven't read that one yet -it's called The Bodacious Book of Succulence- but it's definitely on my wish list!  
If you're a creative person who feels blocked, SWW will blow you away; and if you think you aren't a creative, it will inspire you to think and act more creatively. People believe that being creative is about sitting down with pen or brush & trying to channel an idea, but that's not true. Creativity happens in mundane daily life, if we're willing to expand our minds. SWW is, next to Pronoia, one of the most healing books I've ever read.


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From JPTP. "Other people are pure science fiction" xD Sark's books always make me laugh out loud in public
★ Juicy Pens Thirsty Paper, by Sark. Whether you want to write professionally or not, this book is perfect for creative thinking and inspiration. I page through it when I feel blocked staring at my journal. Journaling is the best tool I've found to heal inner wounds and depression, and I'm completely obsessed with it. Sometimes I feel the urge to express something on paper, but I have no idea what. So I look for prompts around my house or on the internet, and a Sark book has never failed to stirr the juices in my brain. It contains plenty of inspiration as well as practical exercises to make you take action. 


★ A New Earth, by Eckhart Tolle. It put my whole life into perspective, and gave me incredible insights into my own mental and emotional processes. I know Tolle has plenty of critics, but my aproach to everything in life is 'take the message, not the messenger'. 

"What a liberation to realize that the 'voice in my head' is not who I am. Who am I then? The one who sees that" This statement alone changed my life overnight. I cannot recommend this book enough.


★ Women who run with the wolves, by Clarissa Pinkola Estés. This monsterbook is not for the faint of heart; it took me a whole year to read. Once again, the fact that it's aimed specifically at women did not make me feel alienated, and I wonder what people of a variety of genders have taken from this book. And I'm mostly interested in knowing men's experiences with Pinkola's work. 
When I read it, I didn't feel as if the issues were specific to women at all; in fact, I recognised a lot of the issues that my guy friends confided in me, and I thought the content of the book applies to anyone who feels disconnected from their true self, anyone who feels broken and lost, any human being who needs help in making sense of their inner world and how it's been fragmented due to living in society. Estés is a Jungian psychoanalyst and cantadora (keeper of the old stories), and in this work, she specializes in the female psyche. However, it is my opinion that everyone can see themselves in the text. But then, I've never been a man, so I wouldn't know what they're really thinking or feeling (as if men are these homogeneous group /sarcasm) (as if women are a homogeneous group, come on!) (and where does this leave the non-binary people?) (I could keep adding personal comments in parenthesis but I'll stop here ;). I'm interested to know whether non-women see their issues reflected in this book. I know I do. In any case, personally I think this masterpiece is for every human who runs with the wolves. 

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Guerrilla Oracle

18/6/2014

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Tanoux, Henri - Salammbô, 1921
Be careful, lest in casting out your demon you exorcise the best thing in you.
Friedrich Nietzsche


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♫ ♫ The Bells ♫ ♫ 

15/6/2014

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What I've been listening to during these suffocatingly hot days.

The Bells from tourmalinne on 8tracks Radio.

1. A game of cricket - Becoming Jane (Adrian Johnston)
2. Awakening of spring - The Secret Garden (Zbigniew Preisner)
3. The Rehearsal - The King's Speech (Alexandre Desplat)
4. The Qidditch World Cup - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Patrick Doyle)
5. The Letter that Never Came - A Series of Unfortunate Events (Thomas Newman)
6. Valley of the Shadow - Little Women (Thomas Newman)
7. Anne's Theme - Anne of Green Gables (Hagood Hardy)
8. Arrival at Netherfield - Pride and Prejudice (DarioMarianelli, Jean-Yves Thibaudet) 
9. Concerning Hobbits - The Fellowship of the Ring (Howard Shore)
10. The Ludlows - Legends of the Fall (James Horner)


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Poetry by Mary Oliver

15/6/2014

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★
The Summer Day


Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?





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More Life Lessons from Anne Shirley

7/6/2014

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Have you any unfulfilled dreams, Anne? - asked Gilbert.

Of course. Everybody has. It wouldn’t do for us to have all our dreams fulfilled. We would be as good as dead if we had nothing left to dream about. What a delicious aroma that low-descending sun is extracting from the asters and ferns. I wish we could see perfumes as well as smell them. I’m sure they would be very beautiful.
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I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does.


Have you ever noticed that when people say it is their duty to tell you a certain thing you may prepare for something disagreeable? Why is it that they never seem to think it a duty to tell you the pleasant things they hear about you?


Don't be very frightened, Marilla. I was walking the ridge-pole and I fell off. I suspect I have sprained my ankle. But, Marilla, I might have broken my neck. Let us look on the bright side of things.


It is only very foolish folk who talk sense all the time.


Ruby Gillis says when she grows up, she wants to have a line of beaus on a string and make them crazy for her. I'd rather have one, in his rightful mind. 
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Looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them.


I defy anyone who would try and make me change.


I’m not a bit changed—not really. I’m only just pruned down and branched out. The real me—back here—is just the same. It won’t make a bit of difference where I go or how much I change outwardly; at heart I shall always be your little Anne.


Well, I wouldn't marry anyone who was really wicked, but I think I'd like it if he could be wicked and wouldn't.


Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps … perhaps … love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.


Well, we all make mistakes, dear, so just put it behind you. We should regret our mistakes and learn from them, but never carry them forward into the future with us.

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Anne Shirley: Good morning, Mrs. Harris. 
Mrs. Harris: Walking as if we owned the world, are we? 
Anne Shirley: So I do.
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Did you see all the diamonds those ladies wore? - sighed Jane - They were simply dazzling. Wouldn't you just love to be rich, girls?'

We ARE rich - said Anne staunchly - Why, we have sixteen years to our credit, and we're happy as queens, and we've all got imaginations, more or less. Look at that sea girls—all silvery and shadow and vision of things not seen. We couldn't enjoy its loveliness any more if we had millions of dollars and ropes of diamonds. Would you want to be that white-lace girl and wear a sour look all your life, as if you'd been born turning up your nose at the world? Or the pink lady, kind and nice as she is, so stout and short that you'd really no figure at all? Or even Mrs. Evans, with that sad, sad look in her eyes? She must have been dreadfully unhappy sometime to have such a look. You KNOW you wouldn't, Jane Andrews!

I don't know exactly - said Jane unconvinced - I think diamonds would comfort a person for a good deal.

Well, I don't want to be anyone but myself, even if I go uncomforted by diamonds all my life. I'm quite content to be Anne of Green Gables, with my string of pearl beads. I know Matthew gave me as much love with them as ever went with Madame the Pink Lady's jewels.


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Life Lessons from Anne Shirley

5/6/2014

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It is no secret that I feel like the literary character Anne Shirley and I are essentially the same person. Growing up, playing with & talking to Anne was like interacting with my twin flame. And what ardent flames we are indeed!

It's astonishing when your own beliefs & general disposition toward life are mirrored in someone else's writing, and it's liberating when you realise that you're neither insane nor alone ;) That's the power of fiction, baby!
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People laugh at me because I use big words. But if you have big ideas, you have to use big words to express them, haven't you?


Isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is always fresh, with no mistakes in it yet.


I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens, but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.


One can dream so much better in a room where there are pretty things.


It is ever so much easier to be good if your clothes are fashionable.


I'd like
 to add some beauty to life. I don’t exactly want to make people KNOW more… though I know that IS the noblest ambition… but I’d love to make them have a pleasanter time because of me… to have some little joy or happy thought that would never have existed if I hadn’t been born.
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I don’t know, I don’t want to talk as much. It’s nicer to think dear, pretty thoughts and keep them in one’s heart, like treasures. I don’t like to have them laughed at or wondered over.


There’s such a lot of different Annes in me. I sometimes think that is why I’m such a troublesome person. If I was just the one Anne it would be ever so much more comfortable, but then it wouldn’t be half so interesting.


Why must people kneel down to pray? If I really wanted to pray I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d go out into a great big field all alone or into the deep, deep woods, and I’d look up into the sky-up-up-up into that lovely blue sky that looks as if there is no end to its blueness. And then I’d just`feel’ a prayer.


I went looking for my dreams outside of myself and discovered, it’s not what the world holds for you, it’s what you bring to it.

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Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive - it's such an interesting world. It wouldn't be half so interesting if we knew all about everything, would it? There'd be no scope for the imagination then, would there?

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    about Alexandra

    Born and raised in Barcelona city, now living in a small town. 

    Inspired by storytelling, nature, faery lore, gothic architecture, art nouveau,  (mostly dead) writers and thinkers, European landscapes, Rien Poortvliet, road trips,  myths and the occult.

    This blog contains true stories, made-up stories (it all leads to truth), visual and auditory communication, art, poetry, lists, the transpersonal, sounds for the heart, & my own reality tunnel. 
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