Thursday, November 14, 2013

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.

2 comments:

  1. Your reasons for writing are so inspiring!! You have a gift. . .

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  2. An interesting post as always, Pauline. I know what you mean about the guilt factor, and it does take many years to realise that by self-denial one is not managing to change the world 'out there'.
    Hope the writing course is going well, though I think you already write beautifully.

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