Category: observation

A Guide to Love & Desire


“It’s possible to love a human being if you don’t know them too well.” –

Charles Bukowski

Love is…

In order for any of us to completely understand and accept love, we have to understand what love is not. We often confuse love for a lot of things, that simply aren’t love. For example desire and love don’t often go hand in hand. Desire is lustful, passionate, unending, unfulfilled, hungry, thirsty, creepy, unvarnished, jealous, erratic, stupid and very insecure. Lust is carnal, all consuming, addicting, dangerous and sometimes clandestine. Hate well, that’s definitely not love.

Love is secure. Love is steady, knowing, calm, compassionate, giving, bountiful and glorious. Love is the glue. Love (like one of my favorite bands wrote) is all you need. Yet we still confuse love for all that it is not. We as humans have the capacity to love, be in love, and love people and beings who aren’t like us, don’t speak like us, don’t share the same story as us and don’t come from us. I’ve written in past blog posts about the 7 types of love. The ancient Greeks had many different expressions for love. Erotic love, brotherly love (yes that kind of love ), love of a parent to a child, love of all humanity, longing pained love (that achy breaky heart kind of love), playful love (flirty yummy delicious), and self love. All these types of loves coexist, they are not mutually exclusive and yes we can love two (or more) people at the same time. One thing love is NOT is stingy.

Love is Not…

Nothing else is a replacement or a stand in for love. Love in all its forms, shapes and versions, is in its core without discrimination, distinction or agenda; pure. Love is equal opportunity, bi, trans, tall, short, big, small, all inclusive and all encompassing. LOVE IS LOVE. Control is not love, abuse is not love, deception is not love, war is not love, organized religion is not love, fanaticism is not love, nationalism is not love, fear is not love, force is not love, lies are not love, hate is not love reversed. Love sees all, there is no exception.

So while love seems to get far less advertising than it should, and is often mistaken for its poor, imitations; here are my personal favorite expressions of messy, erotic, playful, flirty, solid, wholesome love, a little lust and everything in between.

Love is : Poetry

Two of my favorite poems about love. One is a monologue for a play called Crave by one of my favorite playwrights Sarah Kane; (thank you to my friends in Greece for reminding me) 

https://art-sheep.com/touching-love-monologue-from-crave-by-sarah-kane/?fbclid=IwAR04sxqvNR8V0c-FUi6FQHXHQvacLg8QW3SWQpEPaPuvYVPH4Rcdhmk0qko

Full Monologue :
And I want to play hide-and-seek
and give you my clothes
and tell you I like your shoes
and sit on the steps while you take a bath
and massage your neck and kiss your feet and hold your hand
and go for a meal and not mind when you eat my food
and meet you at Rudy’s and talk about the day
and type your letters and carry your boxes
and laugh at your paranoia
and give you tapes you don’t listen to
and watch great films and watch terrible films
and complain about the radio
and take pictures of you when you’re sleeping
and get up to fetch you coffee and bagels and Danish and go to Florent and drink coffee at midnight
and have you steal my cigarettes and never be able to find a match
and tell you about the the programme I saw the night before
and take you to the eye hospital
and not laugh at your jokes
and want you in the morning but let you sleep for a while
and kiss your back and stroke your skin
and tell you how much I love your hair your eyes your lips your neck your breasts your arse your
and sit on the steps smoking till your neighbour comes home
and sit on the steps smoking till you come home
and worry when you’re late
and be amazed when you’re early
and give you sunflowers
and go to your party and dance till I’m black
and be sorry when I’m wrong
and happy when you forgive me
and look at your photos
and wish I’d known you forever
and hear your voice in my ear and feel your skin on my skin
and get scared when you’re angry
and your eye has gone red and the other eye blue
and your hair to the left and your face oriental
and tell you you’re gorgeous and hug you when you’re anxious
and hold you when you hurt
and want you when I smell you
and offend you when I touch you and whimper
when I’m next to you and whimper
when I’m not and dribble on your breast and smother you in the night and get cold
when you take the blanket and hot when you don’t and melt
when you smile and dissolve
when you laugh
and not understand why you think I’m rejecting you when I’m not rejecting you
and wonder how you could think I’d ever reject you
and wonder who you are but accept you anyway
and tell you about the tree angel enchanted forest boy who flew across the ocean because he loved you
and write poems for you and wonder why you don’t believe me
and have a feeling so deep I can’t find words for it
and want to buy you a kitten I’d get jealous of because it would get more attention than me
and keep you in bed when you have to go
and cry like a baby when you finally do
and get rid of the roaches
and buy you presents you don’t want
and take them away again
and ask you to marry me
and you say no again
but keep on asking
because though you think I don’t mean it
I do always have from the first time I asked you
and wander the city thinking it’s empty without you
and want what you want
and think I’m losing myself but know I’m safe with you
and tell you the worst of me
and try to give you the best of me
because you don’t deserve any less
and answer your questions when I’d rather not
and tell you the truth when I really don’t want to
and try to be honest because I know you prefer it
and think it’s all over but hang on in for just ten more minutes before you throw me out of your life
and forget who I am
and try to get closer to you because it’s a beautiful learning to know you
and well worth the effort and speak German to you badly and Hebrew to you worse
and make love with you at three in the morning
and somehow
somehow
somehow
communicate some of the overwhelming
undying
overpowering
unconditional
all-encompassing
heart-enriching
mind-expanding
on-going
never-ending
love
I have for you.
Sarah Kane (3 February 1971 – 20 February 1999) English Playwright

My second favorite poem about love, lust and erotic love is by none other than…. E.E Cummings

I Like My Body When It Is With Your

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body.  i like what it does,
i like its hows.  i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new

Love is: Music

Everything love wants to express, it does through song, through lyrics, through the beat and the rhythm of music. Any time I’ve wanted to express love for someone I try to do in with music. The list is endless but these are some of my favorite “love” songs.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SygtHDkbG_s&list=RDSygtHDkbG_s&start_radio=1
Nouvelle Vague- Fade Out Lines

Jolene by Dolly Parton- Remix by Todd Terje


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjiBj014t7g
Etta James- A Sunday Kind Of Love

I’ve got you Under My Skin (original Frank Sinatra) by – Ben L’Oncle
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jvXywhJpOKs
My Funny Valentine- Chet Baker

Tom Waits- Hope I don’t fall in love with you

Nothing Compares 2U- Prince

Bruce — I’m on Fire (original edit)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoskDZRLOCs
Elton John – Tiny Dancer

All in all… there are far more songs about love, longing, togetherness, sex, cigarettes and booze then there is about hate. I figure in the end of this little chess game called life, Love wins.

Peace.

“Sex is kicking death in the ass while singing.”

Charles Bukowski

Life is not about folding clothes neatly.

A thought about Marie Kondo and the clutter revolution

I am a self declared neat freak, (anyone who knows me can attest to this). I’ve followed the Marie Kondo craze as diligently as I would watch a clothing cycle go by, and to the avid followers of this tidying up phenomenon I judge no one, to each their own. I’ve heard about the woman, the show, the cult like following, the memes, the hype, of weeding out your stuff like you do a garden; and I am left with major questions and disagreement in my mind.

What “sparks joy” for me, or you, or anyone else in the stuff we choose to keep is superbly objective and deeply personal. Of course we keep things around for too long because we need the comfort and consistency it provides. The concept of compensating for emotional stability with the incessant purchase of things is another debate entirely. However the little things that make us happy aren’t necessary convenient or neat or placed into a well folded category. They are memories, moments, personal and communal history, culture and the connective tissue between generations. Ancient Greeks and Egyptians used to fill the tombs of their loved ones with stuff; gold coins, cloth, food, trinkets and jewelry. The concept of having reminders of your life in the afterlife was imperative to giving the departed a smooth passage into the afterlife. These untouchable and unfold-able threads, are in the stuff we give to each other and the stuff we keep for ourselves. What is fundamentally missing in Marie Kondo’s joy sparking philosophy, is understanding our need to constantly acquire useless, pointless, time wasting and money wasting STUFF, instead of sharing what we all have with our friends, family and loved ones.

Yes throw the 80 corks of wine you have, but keep the 5 that tell the story of your experiences with them. Yes throw away the torn and tattered badly made clothing that doesn’t fit you any more but keep the suit jacket that was hand sewn for your grandmother in the 1940’s even though you never really wear it. Below you will find my personal list of what to keep and why in this world of, forced minimalist trends and “get rid of it all cause you won’t take it with you when you die” lifestyles.

  1. De-clutter your brain along with your house cause if you’re going to throw shit out but still think too much and clutter your brain with old thoughts and old memories you’re a memory hoarder. Make room for new ones and keep the ones that truly matter. Meditate, plant things in your home, repair that thing that keeps bothering you, focus on a single task and stop cluttering your day with unnecessary thoughts.
  2. Don’t Keep anything an ex lover gave you that doesn’t represent who you are. Give it to a homeless person, sell it, or throw it in the trash. I’ve done ALL 3 with 3 different men. It felt great. The only exception you should be making is for gifts like music and books; because someone’s inspirational words and music you can always carry with you.
  3. Keep theater tickets, concert tickets, old family photos, a dried flower bouquet from your first boyfriend, family trinkets, and your grandmother’s silver. But don’t just keep it in an attic somewhere never to be seen. It should be displayed, made into art, re purposed; but never kept closed up in some sterile box. Memories, and family history are always part of who we are.
  4. Books and music should never be thrown out… Give them to a friend, donate to a local library, read them to an ailing parent, but NEVER just throw books out. Even your childhood ones. Those are memories worth keeping. Instead of throwing away an old novel you got at a second hand shop, don’t get trashy novels disguised as literature, glossy fashion magazines, or self help books. Those are ridiculous and waste your time and money on this earth.

We are defined more about the stuff we keep and the stories we share; and less about the stuff we buy to pretend to be something or someone we are not, including Marie Kondo’s personal philosophy on a neat, clean, Japanese lifestyle that doesn’t seem to include the human connection that some, unorganized, inconvenient and messy lifestyles have in common.

What you say about others says more about you.

A lesson in self reflection.

The general consensus in psychology is that if an opinion or matter of fact statement is voiced in a manner that entangles or blames others in some way; it has more to do with the person speaking it rather than the intended recipients. Also known as projection.

The definition of Projection from Merriam Webster dictionary :

the attribution of one’s own ideas, feelings, or attitudes to other people or to objects especially: the externalization of blame, guilt, or responsibility as a defense against anxiety.

or more directly :
The act of throwing or thrusting forward

Setting aside what we consider to be the text book definition of projection. We’ve all done it.

We’ve all projected, thrust, and thrown our shit on to other people. As a lifelong yoga practitioner I like to pride myself on the idea of non attachment for as long as I’ve been on the mat. But let’s be honest. Despite all good intentions NOT projecting our insecurities and problems on to others, is simply an uphill battle. I’m willing to and fight everyday to check in, course correct and set aside my ego but like many of us, sometimes I can’t help it. We all want to think that we’re unique and the only ones with the feelings we have, but ultimately whenever we blame others or project our issues on them; it’s a poorly disguised unresolved, unrelenting, stinky pile of our personal crap. AKA YOUR SHIT.

We’ve all done it.

When projection gets in the way of a constructive conversation, especially online, we have a far more brutal and disjointed environment to deal with. Yet we have seen it again and again, otherwise seemingly with it people who appear to have it together; who advertise perfect lives, abundant in wisdom and introspection; resorting to name-calling, shaming, blaming, self victimization, and throwing fits while lashing out at others. It’s hardly a solution. And in all honestly its an easy forum. Over frustrated people who can’t deal with their own problems, lash out with any given or taken chance at any “threat” to their insecurity. Ultimately thinking they have made examples of themselves in their perfection while criticizing others for their own inability to create meaningful change in their lives.

YET. We’ve ALL done it. (at least once)

What this observation boils down to is this:

Before pointing fingers, burning bridges and playing a never ending blame game of how everyone else is broken, crazy, tethered at the seams, and problematic because things didn’t go our way; Let’s look at each encounter with some compassion and understanding.

We all need to take a step back. check ourselves and truly see how we project our personal crap to the world.

I don’t owe you Sex- Part. 1

When sex is seen as a favor for good behavior what do you do?

I have often been placed in this predicament (as many women have) when either men I’ve gone on a date with or have been with for a certain amount of time, feel it’s their god given right to get sex just because they did something “nice” for me, or they felt I owed them. In their mind sex is some sort of reward. And by nice I am not talking about saving my life, or buying me a very expensive car, which in this case heck why not right? (just kidding!) But to those who do, more power to you.

I’ve wondered how this expectation came about. Is it their upbringing? Is it society in general? Is the prevalence of transactional and power play sexual encounters just a male mentality? In all the instances of “expected sex”, I wondered (as many women do), If I owed these men something, because that was the approach or the explanation given to me. This implied, or expected reward for good behavior sent me into a moment of self reflection. Did I invite this? Do I owe them some sort of explanation as to why I don’t want to have sex with them? Is this really being asked of me? And what allows for such an expectation?

Looking back at the events that lead to these still unanswered questions, I have yet to understand how the dynamics between men and women are formed, in allowing such expectations to exist, and why we accept living in a society that still creates them.

Case №1 — New York fall 2013

New York fall 2013. Having freshly arrived a few months earlier, I was still bouncing around from home to home and job to job. I was still insecure about my decision to drop my life in Athens, and live in a new city with absolutely zero job prospects. My surviving skills needed sharpening while sustaining myself on the very little money I had saved up. After feeling somewhat settled in and with the help of friends, I found a part time job as a dog walker for a company in Manhattan, but this was hardly enough to keep me afloat. Unlike many Greeks emigrating to the U.S I wanted no part in asking for handouts or favors; I knew full well what working with, and alongside Greek business owners could entail. Just because I was Greek, didn’t mean I cared to or wanted to immediately work in the Greek community, and despite my general rule to stay away from the insulated world of the Greek-American diaspora; I had a need to connect with “my people” and maybe find a better job suited to my education and skills.

After many inquiries and searches, I was introduced to an up and coming Greek American social coordinator, banker, and well known fixture in the Greek American community. Having spoken several times about potential job opportunities, we agreed to meet up in person, after maintaining email communication for several months.

After a pleasant dinner at a Greek restaurant in Astoria, and a somewhat general but also flirtatious conversation, he paid the bill and hailed me a cab to where I was staying. As we continued our conversation and fun banter in the backseat of a cab, he proceeded to corner me and get as close to me as possible. After trying quite a few times to kiss me, and repeating several times that we could end up at his place to fuck. I pleasantly thwarted his advances, and in the end pretty much had to push him off me with a smile. Beyond the dinner I had zero intention of sleeping with this man, and made zero allusions as such.

I got out of the cab, sent him on his merry way and pretty much knew I would never see him again. Upon arriving at my home I got a text message. “Why did you have dinner with me and let me kiss you, if you didn’t intend of having sex with me? You mislead me and that was a waste of my time.” It got me seriously thinking what exactly in my demeanor, our conversation or agreeing to go to dinner with this man gave him the idea that I was open to any kind of further contact? Did he think he was paying for sex with dinner? Or that a dinner was enough to warrant some sort of sexual favor?

This is not the first time or the last time this has occurred, and to be clear not all situations end up like this. Not all men or women for that matter are that manipulative, yet the idea of sex as a commodity never really appealed to me and certainly not as a reward for “good behavior”. I have experienced instances where, seemingly powerful people, and men in particular; like to wield their power in a sexual way and for the most part do so without repercussions. Those same people feel that sexual reward is par for the course, while blatantly stating that: “if I buy you dinner, take you out, get you a cab ride home; or do you a favor, I’m getting what I paid for, and If you don’t comply, I’m wasting precious time If you don’t deliver.” In all these instances, of sexual powerplay, I was never in a position of power. I was either broke, in some need, or seemed lesser or weaker than I actually was. This clarified in my mind what all sex, and power play games have in common.

Blatant insecurity.

Despite any unpleasant interactions I’ve experienced over the years with situations like this; I never felt I had to repay any dept or favors. My experiences did however make me think twice before accepting any further dinner invitations.

Share your story or stories of predicaments like this – I’d love to hear from men and women who might have been placed in similar (unwanted) reward sex situations. 

How to get over a friendship gone bad

Breaking up is hard to do.

We all have gone through our various romantic breakups somewhat unscathed. The guy wasn’t for us, we weren’t for someone else and that’s that. With a dissolution of a marriage; you have more invested. With divorce there is a separation of property, kids, dogs, clothing, artwork and egos.

But What about a break-up with a friend?

We are often prepared for traditional break ups, divorces, separations for good or bad; But what happens when a friendship is dissolved? Do you forget the person? Do you claim to erase this person like you would a romantic break up? The finality of a friendship breaking up and closing up is very confusing, and in some cases far more painful experience. The harsh reality is that:
You can’t remain friends with a friend, who is an X.

How does one compute, and start the process of realizing the new reality (more so in my mind) of a friendship gone bad ?

In recent years, I’ve broken up with most of my family with far less scars or regrets than I did with friends. I’ve always regarded friendship as far more important than family, only because most of my family is toxic, vindictive and plain shit. What hurts most, is that you can be friends for years with someone, grow up together, see countless life changes, get over horrible moments together; and inexplicably something happens; the line breaks off, your paths split (sometimes violently) and whatever held you so close till then, disappears so quickly that you’re left wondering; how the hell do I get over this one, and was this really the friendship I thought it was?

Do you throw away their gifts and letters to you? Do you erase their messages? Do you burn their pictures in some sort of break up ritual and say “fuck em” like you would a jilted love affair?

What’s the protocol on ending a friendship?

I’ve had my fair share of friendships fading or souring over a long period of time, which in many cases had to do with outgrowing someone, but most recently I did experience a breakup with a friend I admired and valued immensely. I look back on the signs, the cracks in the foundation and wonder what started the wave that turned into a tsunami. I have often pondered what may have caused the abrupt ending; and trying see if there is any chance of it being repaired, but sometimes just like with lovers you have to say…

I guess you’re not that in to me and I’m not that bothered to change it.

As harsh and nonchalant as that sounds; I find that if a person actively and forcefully removes you from their life, or you them, it is clear that isn’t a friendship worth saving or fighting for. I’ve fought for friendships in the past; through thick and thin, from great distances, and with countless discussions and conversations, because ultimately what they signified in my life, was far more important than a bruised ego and multiple misunderstandings.

As we grow older however, we tend to weigh our options, and really see our friendships for what they really are. We are ultimately forced to place ourselves in the position of valuing ourselves as much (or more) as we value our friendships. To many of us (including myself); friendships are the backbone of our existence. We grow with our friends, these are the people who have seen the worst and the best of us, these are the people who know more about us than our parents, siblings, or our whole entire family. Yet all too often friends don’t want or care to follow us in our ever changing paths and don’t forgive us for our missteps and transgressions along the way, or simply aren’t equipped to go beyond their own limitations and egos.

When we move beyond the confines of our original path, and outgrow our fears we want our friends to be happy for us, not jealous, or worse wanting to derail, devour or belittle our efforts. If a friendship can’t support both the highs and the lows, the successes and failures, the fruitful explorations and regrettable decisions; that is not a friendship worth investing in, wasting your time on or having in your life.

Take away list 2018

Not all years are a complete loss.

Ok maybe that one year where everything everywhere went to shit (enter year here _______)

I firmly believe that despite the absolute shit show this year has been politically, economically, globally, environmentally and in every other category possible; 2018

didn’t suck.

I’m further convinced that we all have a small ( very small in some cases) take away list for the year that’s about to close. Not all things turned to shit and in many ways the ones that did were a blessing in disguise.

Small gifts list of 2018

Care of Self

The discovery of taking (better) care of self. Not the “self care” cliché but real, honest quiet moments while taking time to be focused only on one person and one moment in time. me in the present moment.

We all share countless moments with other people on a daily, hourly basis in big cities, never really spending a quiet moment in silence. 2018 was the year I sought this silence more than any other time. Quiet time for self reflection and meditation.

Quality not quantity

Spending time talking to, eating with, drinking with and discussing with people in real time, one on one. The idea of sharing a moment or series of moments with a new or old friend, a loved one, or a complete stranger, without distractions or entertainment. Creating Quality time.

Learning to listen

This year taught me a lot about listening, truly listening to others. I still have a lot of work to do on that front but I’m closer than last year. By no means do I believe this lesson is over, there is far more to learn.

Trusting my instructs

This year brought me situations and people that reinforced my trust in my instincts. Red flags? Saw them. Warnings? Listened to them. Signs? Observed them. Lessons? Learned them.

Lastly, and as I’ve mentioned this in many of my past writings; The people and places I’ve visited connected me with friends who are still in my life one year later, from 1 to 35 years of creating a continuation of friendship and family. This idea of bonding and building true connection with those near and far, is constantly reinforced by the passing of time, not diminished or faded, and absolutely beautiful.

That keeps me going to the next year.

Looking forward to a lesson filled 2019.

Cheers to 2018. Now get lost.

The Art of Not Giving A Fuck


Photo by: R. Valenzuela

A small manifesto on truthfulness.

Looking back at the inception of this online writing platform 6 years ago; there was no predicting where it would take me. While reflecting upon the sixth consecutive year of writing online, I was reminded of my sixth anniversary living in New York. One absolutely undeniable thing I’ve realized about this city is :

New York doesn’t give a fuck what you think of her. (Sorry Sex and the City- New York is no boyfriend) Shes a badass, loudmouthed, Italian, Latino, black, Jewish, Irish, Dominican, African, Indian, Pakistani, Greek, Mexican, Chinese, Japanese, Lebanese, Dominican, Puerto Rican, Jamaican, Korean, Russian, Romanian, Chilean, Israeli, Palestinian, Ukrainian, Brazilian, Armenian, Syrian (I could go on and on) and every other American Woman.

I realized early last year; January 2018 to be exact, that speaking my truth, expressing my writing and poetry honestly and conveying my point of view without reservations, is my greatest challenge and biggest goal for the years to come. (Yes I stole a little attitude from one of my writing heroes and badass traveler, advocate, explorer and all around truth teller Mr. Anthony Bourdain). For the first time after starting this writing project; I don’t give a fuck with people think. I’ve spent countless years, (as many women do) side stepping, avoiding, cleaning up, self editing in order to fit a particular mold or idea of how I should express myself publicly or privately. I’m not trying to grab or hold anyone’s attention. If you follow my writing and care to share your point of view with me, It is welcome. If you don’t care for what I’m writing about, and think its shit, make a valid point, and give your point of view.

On January 1st 2018, at about 6 am, on a very cold bright morning; It hit me: Nothing of who I am and what I’ve done so far with my life fits any ,constructs or ideas of what a woman my age living, loving creating, and writing in 2018 should be like, look like or act like. I was never one to submit to conformity. Whenever I tried to fit in, my life would always swerve away from it, one way or another. Should have been, should have had, should have accomplished, often slaps me around from time to time.

We all go through moments where we are faced with the stories other people like to tell about us. Inevitably as we get older (not necessarily wiser as I’ve come to discover), some of us find our own true voice, allowing us to be exactly who we want and can be. Others predictably, stay stuck within the confines of an identity formed by others, society, parents, or heritage; forming an idea of themselves with personas or masks that really don’t quite fit. More still never really take the risk to flourish into something far more beautiful and unique that may not quite fit the narrative we’ve been fed.

Time has shown me that spending more time alone, with myself has given me ample opportunities to really know who I am, shed any prét a porter personalities and embrace how I want to live my life. Yet every year that closes, I spend a few moments wondering what would have been if I took a different path.

The shoulds- A list

On the eve of a new year, I narrow down the list of shoulds that apply to where someone like me should be according to society, my own made up standards, and how very famously stated in Greece, according to what “people say”.

Here’s my top 5 so I don’t go to crazy down the rabbit hole.

1. I should have had kids by now. Well to be fair I almost did, and although I do think about that possibility often, I’m thankful everyday I decided against it. It’s been a strange feeling to know I came close.

2. I should have my own business by now. I did at some point and for a good 10 years, I did run my own business as a yoga teacher and massage therapist. I’ve taken a detour so the possibility is still there.

3. I should be settled somewhere and have a beautiful home. I also had that at one point in my life, but the Greek crisis forced many of us to leave the life we knew and the home we had along with all its comforts; and find new paths in new counties. Now and for however it lasts, New York is home.

4. I should be more successful in my career and make more money. Well this is only up to my efforts so stay tuned 😉

5. I should drop everything I’m doing here in New York and move back to Greece… Well this one I left for last because it’s as complicated and simple as all the others on the list. For the simple reason that I’m not someone who likes to drop something in the middle before I’ve seen in through; staying in New York although a difficult journey, has and still does inspire me. My writing and poetry has developed over the years here, and the same would not have occurred in Athens. So I take the inspiration and wherever it takes me I’m willing to go. All the risks we take lead us somewhere magical.

On to the next chapter.

Happy New Year to all.

Random Thoughts- On failure and redemption.

What makes us brave is not avoiding failure, but the ability to get back on track after falling.

Lack of success

We all fuck up. We all take a wrong turn. We all make wrong decisions; often more than once. In recent months I’ve had some very profound discussions with self pronounced failures, who despite their own perceptions; have shown far more determination in continuing on their path to success rather than avoiding or languishing on the presence of failure.

In my mind what clearly separates the brave ones from the cowards are the ones who fail; big, and then get up. Pick up the pieces and keep going.

I always have been very bad at admitting failure. As a youngster I wanted to adopt the role of little miss perfect, I could do no wrong, therefore everyone was happy. Yet understanding the value of failure and its necessity; is understanding the basis of future success. Over the years, and after many failures (small and big); I have found that only through those have I grown, learned and was driven to keep going in my pursuits.


the omission of expected or required action

Those who never falter, who don’t risk, or admit failure; are clearly not going to create much success either. We all know at least one such person. The ones who preach perfection, the ones who have it all figured out, the ones who never, bend, take a leap of faith, or follow their dreams into the unknown. The ones who haven’t publicly or privately eaten shit and admitted it.

One person’s failure is another person’s success.

Those who fail big and keep going in most cases are the same ones who are harshly critical of their own accomplishments. I was speaking to a friend recently about a very accomplished explorer and world cartographer, who by his own admission was an utter failure. Any bystander (including myself) who knew nothing of this man’s idea of himself would probably thing he was stark raving mad, and yet; failure is a very personal matter.

Unwilling to Fail/Not recognizing success

After all is said and done, one of the strongest examples of failure is having not tried at all. Being stringent and strict with those who fail, is often shown by those who have failed and won’t admit it, but far more often by those who fear failure and risk more than anything else. Failure requires vulnerability, courage, stupidity, callousness and imperfection. Those same elements are some of the same ingredients of success.

Life is short- Fail

Inasmuch as I have failed or succeeded in my recent endeavors; (and only time will tell) I’ve let go of a lot of what both of those mean. And after seeing how short and precious life is, failure is far more adventurous than sitting at home, living a life half lived, full of comfort and predictability. Having the chance to try, fail and then try again is really what life is all about.

Salud!

Random Thoughts Vol. 2- Plastic Surgery

I often… (every day) come across random thoughts and discussions as possible topics for sharing on this platform. They range from the mundane and truly trivial, to the BIG life questions… So instead of keeping them to myself, I am creating a series and sharing them with a wider audience.

This morning,  I was battling with yet another day of crappy MTA subway service, and while running late for work, I caught my reflection in the subway doors, and pondered if I would ever try Botox. Yes that bacterial toxin that thousands of women (and men?) across the globe use as regularly as a deluxe pedicure to “erase” signs of aging. A few hours later, I was asked this very question by a yoga friend in Greece.

Have you tried or would ever try Botox or other non invasive plastic surgery?

No I haven’t. (yet)

Despite my very strong feelings against plastic surgery; I get why women (and some men)  give in, and pluck, tuck, pull, fill, remove and add stuff to their bodies. I find that any kind of massive change and manipulation of what’s been given to us by nature; (let me make clear that I’m only talking about elective procedures) is quite destructive, emotionally and physically in the long run. (not to mention expensive), however I can’t judge a woman who wants to “remove” a few visible signs of aging that might be a damper to her confidence. 

I would however give it a try.

I find the possibility of trying something like this, brings up a mixture of skepticism and distrust in this massive industry fully dedicated to making us (women) feel old. Yet… I find that I am curious. Mind you I’m not fanatical or obsessed with the idea of trying Botox or any plastic surgery. The closest I’ve come to anything resembling a aesthetic procedure is a glycolic peel. If pressed to make a choice between minor plastic surgery procedures and something more enriching for my health and well being, I would pick the latter. I’ve practiced yoga for 20 years, have made peace with most of my flaws (and there are many) and I truly  don’t mind my “fine lines”. This however has not stopped me from looking in the mirror from time to time and wondering if my face is “aging” me. 

Is it better to never start, and let the body age gracefully?

Aging gracefully at our day is ironically considered a choice. The scrutiny and the critical eye most women endure to their ever changing looks does not escape me; I’m not “above it all”. I still refuse to let my grey hair show or my body go, but I am slightly shocked, and not at all surprised that many (too many) women in Greece, start “minor” procedures like Botox from their early 30’s and an increasing number in their late 20’s. Greece is not a wealthy country like the U.S, yet women of ALL financial means put whatever money they can afford to a myriad of beauty treatments. After the mid 90’s “beauty centers” kept popping up like mushrooms in Athens and other major cities,  and now plastic surgery in all its forms is all too common.  

Do I know women who have had elective plastic surgery?

Yes I do. Each one chose for their own reasons, and in all honesty the results were spectacular. What was more apparent than the physical results, was a noticeable improvement in self confidence. In the grand scheme of things, these types of procedures are not as important as our overall health, but if a small change however trivial; makes such a big difference, more power to you ladies (and gents) for doing something to boost your looks, and confidence. My only concern again has to do with the overall psychological and emotional impact of elective plastic surgery. Like any kind of body modification, it can be addictive, (I have 4 tattoos on my body and plan to get more)  so entering this world If I ever do, I want to do it for the right reasons. 

Till then… a little extra night cream.

If you want to read more of my previous posts check below :

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The courage to live life

Street art in Athens, Greece

we live in this endless dystopia… we’ve been groomed again and again to endure crisis after crisis after crisis and with that; have forgotten the joy of life.

We live in strife

And we never pause to enjoy life

It’s little hidden beauties it’s endless flirtation it’s burning desire.

Το μεδούλι we say.

we let others dictate… our inspiration our connections our determination. Yet after all that, we find courage to live life, fall in love, write beautiful music, build incredible buildings, carve beautiful statues, build incredible grand ships that take us from sea to sea, and discover our limits anew each time becoming better versions of ourselves.

we delve deep into beauty and reap the benefits of true joy.

Each boy and girl each female and male becoming, growing, revealing their most true selves.

It’s no mystery we are all made of stars….

Yet we bicker and fight and cause strife. Spending lifetimes hating each other.

Demeaning each other

what a waste….

To not want to taste life’s bounties.

To not want to share in its boundless beauty.

Our curiosity for self destruction is a unique human trait, but so is survival.

And faith.

No not religious kind, but true faith, in ourselves in each other. No no we’re not the only ones but were unique, no we’re not one of a kind but we have been given infinite possibilities…

To be

Unbound

Unencumbered

Unleashed

Released

Free

without fear of reciprocity…

We’ve suffered enough atrocities

So next time you’ve let your spirit fade

talk

scream

dream

run till you can’t breathe.

Find joy in the simplicity of life.