write into the heart...

hello out there!

I am taking this e-course on writing

so i'm spending more time

with a pen in my hand these days

than a paintbrush.

It's all good.

Yesterday, we had to write about why we write...

here are some of my reasons:

 

I sat at the wharf this morning

with my notebook and a coffee at hand,

and i thought about the importance

of doing something we love every day.

And yet,

i realize this is a luxury. 

Many people in the world

are too busy surviving

to even think about what they love

let alone do it.

When i was younger

i used to feel guilty about having 

such a life of abundance.

About having so much in my life

when others in the world had so little.

At times, I purposely avoided too much comfort

because of the guilt i felt

at the unfairness of it all.

If there were 2 coats to choose from,

i took the uglier one.

The one that wasn't so warm.

When i ate dinner at the table with my family,

i always left a bite of food on my plate,

feeling guilty for having so much,

thinking that my intention to feed the world

would somehow reach the powers that be

and that the starving children would be fed.

Somehow.

I've grown since then. 

I no longer leave food on my plate

and i no longer believe

in the powers that be.

I believe change happens

when human beings decide

to make it happen.

When we decide to be less greedy,

more compassionate

less judgmental

more honest

less hypocritical

more loving to one another.

xox

This past May, the world lost a wonderful poet, George Moustaki.
This song was written in 1969, and the video is not the greatest quality, but i wanted to share nonetheless. I included the english translation below the video.

With my face of a foreigner

Of a wandering Jew, of a Greek shepherd

And my hair to the four winds

With my eyes totally waterlogged
That give me a look of a dreamer
That never dreams very often

With my hands of a petty thief
Of a musician and of a prowler
Who has been caught in so many gardens

With my mouth that drank
that kissed and bit
without ever satisfying its hunger

With my face of a foreigner
Of a wandering Jew, of a Greek shepherd
Of a petty thief and of a vagrant

With my skin that rubbed
With the sun of all the summers
and with everyone who wore underskirt

With my heart that knew how to make
Suffering a lot whom has suffered
Without making stories for that

With my soul that no longer has
the least chance for salvation
To avoid the purgatory

With my face of a foreigner
Of a wandering Jew, of a Greek shepherd
And my hair to the four winds

I will come, my sweet captive
My soul mate, my living source
I will come to drink your twenty years old

And I'll become the prince of blood
A dreamer or even a teenager
As you will like to choose

And we will make of everyday
all the eternity of love
that we will live till we die

and we will make of everyday
all the eternity of love
that we will live till we die.