life – Eleana Kouneli

BETWEEn a rock and a hard place

A tale of two cities. in Verse

Metal gods loomed over the skyline, reminding me to be free instead of locked in up in my head. I didn’t know any better. Letting the isolation sink in, it cut to the bone, sapping my very existence. I learned quickly. Pretence isn’t looked upon kindly here. Here you make it because you ate shit for breakfast and it really doesn’t matter what anybody thinks.

“What the FUCK are you looking at!”, she shouts as you quickly avert your gaze, as she hits you with daggers of anger and fear. Imagine how hard you have to become in order to survive this grind and still plant trees of love and understanding, but now they’re rebranding Gotham City into a Monopoly Game. Property moguls eating up land faster than pacman ever could.

You once stood tall, but now.

Game Over. Move over lady this isn’t for you any more. Dark alleyways, dimly lit, covered in the wheat paste dreams of momentary and permanent art gods. The grunting sounds of kitchens working to feed a city that never slept. But now silence. As you hear the footsteps in front of you disappear.

Kindness comes from places you hardly expect. Even though they say no one cares, you get the stare of recognition of common pain. She knows what you’re dealing with as you fight back tears on a Brooklyn bound F train. Get off a stop early to collect yourself and, put on your dark glasses so others don’t see you strain. Suck it up, pull it together. There will be good days and bad days but this place makes a Human out of you with a capital H.

You walk up second avenue, conjuring up images in your head about how you got here in the first place. Will you triumph over your fears, or cower in self defence? Condensed dreams in a flash, sweep by you, bringing you to an intense euphoria as you realize it’s all about to end.

Walk a block up.

Those moments of quaint rarity and clarity bubble up into the Manhattan Skyline. Right across the way, under the PepsiCo Sign, sublime afternoons overlooking the Hudson, moments of chaotic oneness, undone through the blaring sirens of cop cars. Bars overflowing with lonely boys trying to get your attention. “Hey pretty, wanna grab a drink with me?”

Nah I’m good.

I remember how I once stood, alone wondering how this would all turn out.

Fade to black.

Sirens, lure me onto ancient lands that are far more about fiction than fact. The dream is intact even though we are packed in like rats. 5 Million souls and counting, and everyone is in your damn business.

A village, A rock, An ancient ideal now lost in the cement crevices of the mind. We are strangers here. Nomads. Others. Coming and going and finding our way out of the darkness. Slowly trying to prove to every passerby to look up at the skies, instead we limit ourselves to what’s available, attainable and nothing more.

That isn’t my game.

I came here to create change. No matter what. Lingering in the dimly lit passageways of my fatherland now lost in its ugliness and disrepair. People here stare at you as if trying to find the answer to their own insecurities and grief. Knee deep in regrets they never knew they had, they stand tall against the creeping fear mongering and laundering of hope.

I smile gently urging you to invite me to your ceremony. My tears shed in apotheosis of a dream long deferred, but no more. The allure of Athenian mysteries becomes clear, a litany of a city long demolished & rebuild on repeat.

I stand still for a moment to take it all in. The clouds of doubt have dispersed once again, to reveal the softness within.

Welcome.

Day 8. – Sunday in Brooklyn

A walk through my favourite parts of Brooklyn brought with it unexpected surprises and a small detour.

On an unseasonably warm March Sunday morning; Brooklyn beckoned for a long walk through its tree lined streets and quaint neighborhoods. I have been feeling the effects of a sedentary winter, the crazy health scares and the political scene, like many of us; so taking a long stroll was just the medicine needed to wake up my winter body. It seems my idea was not a novel one, as there were many fellow sun worshipers taking their long awaited dose, of freedom as if they had been let out of their winter prisons.

After a hearty breakfast with a friend at her neighborhood Greek diner, ( yup every neighborhood has one); I decided to start my walk admiring the incredible victorian inspired architecture of Ditmas Park, with the final destination aimed at the neighborhood of Bay Ridge, ( the other Greek enclave outside of Astoria, Queens.

I first walked though my old neighborhood, taking a fresh look at familiar streets, eyeing suspiciously at new stores opening up where neighborhood staples had been open for years. The obligatory stop to say hello to my favorite Yemeni neighborhood bodega near my old street lead to a quick conversation and a joyful reassurance that god will look over us all. I suppose as a spiritual atheist I’ll take all the blessings I can get. I kept my pace walking up the hill between Greenwood Cemetery and Prospect Park. There lies a little secret street not many people know about well protected from real estate sharks tucked in a triangle all on its own. The architecture is a mixture of old wooden houses and pre WW II two story single family homes. Thankfully most of them well preserved and owned by old timers who desperately hold on as best as they can. Primarily an Italian American neighborhood until the late 1970s.

I know now that making time for diversions on my walks is always rewarding, because as I stood at the top of a quiet crossroads between my old neighborhood and Greenwood cemetery, I caught the eye of an older gentleman sitting on his stoop taking in the sun while reading his newspaper. I didn’t have a deadline except for making sure I was back home by sunset, which left a good 3 hours for my stroll. I greeted the older man who introduced himself with a smile. “Hello!” I say “taking in this lovely sun I see.”

Jack, is a genuine Brooklyn local, born, raised, married, had a family and lived on this block his whole adult life. Italian- American ( as are most of the old timers of this neighborhood since the early 20s) from the island of Favignara just off the western coast of Sicily.

-You’re looking well! I said which was part encouragement part truth, and he quickly replied “it’s all the extra virgin olive oil from the mother land!” To which I replied “oh I could not agree with you more, I’m from Athens and I don’t buy anything other than olive oil from my country” What unfolded was one of the loveliest conversations I’ve had the privilege of having.

Jack introduces himself with a sweet smile on his face, probably quite glad someone from the neighborhood stopped by to say hello. He is a spry 91 years young, and despite his blood thinners and according to him horribly restrictive diet, has a youthful demeanor about him. He has lived in this very neighborhood since he married his lovely wife in the early 1920s. He quickly pulled out his wallet to show me his wedding day picture which showed a handsome dark haired man with his strong gaze, standing proudly next to his elegant Italian beauty of a bride of 61 years. They moved from their cold water flat to this gem of a neighborhood, had two children, 3 grandchildren and 2 great grand children. I asked if his wife was around and a slight sadness overtook him as he explained her passing 2 years prior.

– I’m lonely now, everyone I know has passed on, my kids live outside the city, yes they visit but not often enough. He said as his eyes grew darker. Things have changed here over the years. You know what did it? That damn highway, ripped through our quiet neighborhood and changed everything since the 60’s.

-You don’t like change, Jack?

– No! He responded quickly in a distinctive Brooklyn accent now rarely heard around these neighborhoods.

– These ugly apartment buildings going up all over the park, I hate them!

– I don’t like change either, but what can you do? I’ll visit you Jack! I said and I meant it. Having lived with my amazing land lady of 95 years, I know how older people crave company.

-If I’m alive! He quickly responded.

-I just found you Jack, don’t leave me just yet! I joked and he laughed a toothy smile.

-Ok let me ask ya a personal question. He goes.

-Ask me anything, I respond ( fully knowing what would come next)

-You have someone ? he asks with a concerned look.

-Ah Jack… Not really.

-What! A lovely woman such as yourself?

-You wanna be my beau, Jack? I smiled.

He smiled back, and at that moment another neighbor brought by some chrysanthemum bulbs that he couldn’t use, and I lingered a little longer before I said good bye.

– I’ll see you soon Jack! Take care of yourself. I’ll bring you some spinach pie next time I come around. I won’t put too much feta in it.

– May god keep you happy and healthy always. Take care of yourself, you’re a lovely young woman. He gave me a soft embrace and I reassured him I would keep my promise to come by again.

As I walked up the hill towards the cemetery it hit me, how many times I drove by Jack’s house in the four years that I lived down the street from him and never passed by. The time was right and I do hope I get to see him again. These precious moments for him are morsels of sweetness in a life that has long changed since he moved to this quiet hill in Windsor Terrace.

– Bless you Jack! I waved as I resumed my stroll, realizing I had spent a good 45 minutes talking to my new friend.

The sun hit my face once more and I took in a deep breath. Thanks Jack, you’re a gem.

Till tomorrow. Keep walking.

Day 6 & 7 Saturdays

Saturdays in New York.

The little things matter. Saturdays are about the small morsels and the unique little corners of New York. Life here is rushed, frenetic and fast paced. The quiet moments are few, but it you take to notice; this city is just as much about the grand story as the snapshots and little secrets of our lives. Today is all about Saturday.

SATURDAY MORNING

The crisp air of an early spring has finally arrived in New York. The usual characters are out in my neighborhood in their usual style. The light in the morning sky is just little softer, just a little kinder, yet it’s still too cold to walk out without a heavy coat. I walk to my neighborhood coffee shop, and grab my usual before heading to a client in the East Village. Today seems like the self isolation of the winter is starting to slightly loosen its grip. Kids are dragging their parents to diners in the city and young boys are racing each other down the street. Amidst the insanity of the political, social, and world health turmoils; sits a quiet life that doesn’t stop for anything.

Saturdays have a special ease for me. I let the day unfold, unrushed, and unscripted. Every other day has an early start, a schedule, a task, a job, a time line. Saturdays are open, lazy, and as the springtime comes; perfect for long walks. Taking strolls in New York are the best way to see the city, it’s a city of neighborhoods, and the people who represent them. Morning in my neighborhood is like no other in the city, and afternoon in the East Village, especially on the first sunny warm days of the season are defined by two things; Day drinking and loud conversations.

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

Walking through the East village is quite possibly one of my favorite things to do in New York. I love this part of the city, it’s rawness, it’s unapologetic New Yorkness, and the more I get to know it, the more I notice the little things, the secrets that this neighborhood slowly reveals. I walked into Tompkins Square Park off of 10th street just as the sun was at it’s peak warmth before giving in to the crisp early evening. The locals, the ones that have always been in the east village, before it became cool for everyone to be there have gathered in the entrance of the park, to share stories, smoke a joint and play chess. Hard faces, with a slight sadness in their eyes, share stories and lingered glances, as spanish is the official language of the square. It’s an unspoken rule, that the old guard owns the park. It’s their place of gathering, their living room, and I would not dream of interrupting them. I sat on a bench, closed my eyes and allowed the sounds to fill the air. Kids running near by, a small food market closing it’s stalls after a long day and the influx of loud young voices of the people leaving the bars near by. I steal a few more moments to listen in on the lively conversations, before I move on to Canal street Market for a quick chinese pancake. The delicate spell is quickly broken after I walk away from the park, I notice the noisiness of the city start to rise in preparation for Saturday Night. I take a few more moments in the cold sun before disappearing into the next subway towards home.

Saturdays are my date with the city days. Daily life, can get in the way of the intimacy needed to sit and savor the moments the little things, the little details that only reveal themselves when the city is allowed to exist without expectations. New York is still stretching out her wings, perched up on a rooftop somewhere observing the landscape before everyone else steals her quiet moment. There is nothing casual about New York life, except on an early saturday morning, after the previous night’s escapades have been cleaned up with the shop owners and the street sweepers prepare her for the tourists and the visitors and the ones who won’t ever see her little hidden gems. Saturday is the day when the city is just for us “locals” to enjoy.

Till tomorrow, by the skin of my teeth and on the eve of a bright Sunday morning. Goodnight and Good luck.

Gotham’s Magic- A love learned.

How to Seek for Novelty in the Familiar.

Living in one place long enough, you forget to see it with curious fresh eyes. You walk up the same train station, drive the same route to work, take the same street to your yoga practice, gym, dance class; go to the same cafe or bar for a drink with friends. None of this is bad per se. There is something beautiful, comforting even, about the familiar faces and places you encounter every day. Yet shaking up the pot ignites renewed curiosity in a place that has become part of your everyday life.

I challenge myself to the newness of things in order to avoid getting into a much dreaded rut. Daily life is not often full of wonder, unless we make a concentrated effort. Practice, go to work, teach, give massages, come home, cook, write. Rinse and Repeat. I try to stay true to my commitment to novelty, curiosity and keeping a fresh eye on things I see everyday. The reason? I have to gaze at things with absence of predictive air, feeding my need to stay present so I don’t get lost in the same story line. So I don’t get lost in myself.

sunburst sunday rush

Routines, set schedules, predictable outcomes can be equal part comforting and a trap. Looking up at that special moment when all you want to do is bury yourself in the same thing over and over again requires a little extra effort. I say this because falling in love with a place you don’t consider your home requires effort, presence and a sense of wonder. Falling in love with it when it’s all you know is twice as challenging.

New York is not an easy broad ( and for me she IS a broad— not a lady, or a missus, or a woman she’s a broad with whatever images you care to understand reflect that characteristic).

She is harsh, unromantic and somewhat uglypretty. ( a Greek word not really translatable “ασχημόρμοφη” ) a trait she shares with my hometown Athens, who’s femininity is always cast over with a shadow of the unkempt or wild. Taking her for granted and ignoring her nuanced beauty is easy to miss. She’s not glamorous or sexy like Paris or Rome but she’s enchanting, and when you take a moment to notice; she will make you fall in love with her. Unlike my love for Athens, which is in my blood, my love for New York has been peppered with anger, loneliness, pure joy, grittiness and forgiveness. New York is a cinematic love, Athens is a poetic one.

Living and learning to love a city that is not my place of birth is about a deeper kind of love. It’s about understanding the hustle, the grind, and the soul of this metal giant, as the facade of its deep felt inherent kindness and humanity. Some days it takes effort and patience not reserved for your average New Yorker …. but just like I’m not your average Athenian, I’m certainly not your average New Yorker.

Belonging to this city is a work in progress, and like most die heard New Yorkers will never miss a chance to state that: you don’t deserve to be called one unless you’ve spit blood, sweat and tears for it. Noticing it’s magic, however belongs to everyone regardless of socioeconomic status, birthplace, or location. Ive learned to love New York as I hade learned to love myself. She has become a part of me and I a part of her, and every now and then she enchants me, this gal of mine.

Gotham Soul- Standing

Lower Manhattan Christmas Eve

She stands tall. Gotham dreams of a place unknown and known. A legacy thrown into turmoil, she breathes.

Her. guts scream.

Her power unseen.

She grapples with the visitors and the takers of her streets.

A queen, taken from her throne and thrown about like a beggar in her own neighborhood.

She stood tall, and she will again. The threading of her story is still in the making. Patterns left unfinished and long forgotten, will rise like a falcon over a clear sky. Triumphant, confronting, scrutinizing our every move.

This lady is still about liberty underneath the layers of depravity. She’s my sanctuary.

Nothing is more iconic and telling of New York life than during the holiday season. Rockefeller center and Macy’s light display, the skating rink in Bryant Park. Landmarks, and points of interest. Many more tourists come during Christmas and New Year’s eve than any other time of year. What I’ve always been drawn to and notice is the other side of the spectrum. Noticing the loneliness, the isolation and the art of the Christmas hustle. What makes this city especially harsh during the holidays; is that they are treated as a commodity, and everyone who does work during them is part of that mechanism.

This year I chose to ( was forced ) spend the holidays in the city. Work kept me here so I used the opportunity to take this unavoidable staycation and treat myself to a little bit of a tourist viewpoint.

New York has two ( at least) worlds; one of opulence and tourist attractions and one of familiar locality. Small local joints, people who know each other and greet you on the street, and an absence of frivolity and pretense.

Real New Yorkers however they might be depicted in movies and television; are a caring, loving people and the heartbeat of this city, and when you get to know them, some of the kindest people you will ever meet. Staying here during the holidays in what seemed an almost empty metropolis, gave me a chance to meet and actually talk to many more people I otherwise would have overlooked. Stay open to possibilities in the year to come, you never know where they will take you.

Happy Fucking New Year.

Day 16. – A Nomadic Life

How to roam the world and still build roots.

If there is one thing that captures my attention more than anything else; it’s travel. Traveling is my drug of choice. Ever since I can remember my family and I have lived a very nomadic life. I grew up in Greece, left as a teenager for studies in the U.S and London, and went back as a young adult, only to leave again 13 years later and reestablish a life in New York at the age of 35. Something tells me I’m not done moving around… yet.

Setting up a life in another place no matter how familiar or routine it sounds; takes a mixture of guts, stupidity, throw caution to the wind bravery, thirst for adventure, and insanity. Yet, I’ve done it 3 times.

This life I’ve chosen, first chose me. Anyone who gets out of their familiar place, packs up their life and moves to a completely different place; is a nomad. I will not get into the discussion of our current state of global refugee crisis, because that is a choice no one should have to make. That being said, all of humanity was built upon the idea that we wanted, needed, aspired to explore other places, live a different life than the one presented to us, and just GO.

My mother boarded a boat in 1972 with my father, and left the only life she knew to be real; only to land in a country under dictatorship in one of the most tumultuous times in Greece’s history. My father, seven years earlier got a scholarship to go study Architecture in western Massachusetts at age 18, never having left Europe, let alone Greece before. My mother was 27 and my father 25, and looking back on it, I am quite certain the bug was in my DNA way before my father and my mother met.

My Greek ancestors were a mixture of cultures and traditions taking them to Turkey, Albania, and possibly even Northern Africa. My American ancestry leads me to villages in the UK and Germany and now I live in a city comprised of every culture under the sun, only to want to explore more of this world first hand.

Discovering new places, and our inexplicable attraction, adoration and love for lands far from our birth, is what is exciting about leading a somewhat nomadic life, yet with each place I live in, I find that it can’t give you what you seek unless you fully commit to living there. Transience isn’t something I felt comfortable with, no-matter where I lived. In Greece we have a phrase for those who’ve emigrated, to other parts of the world (and over the years it’s been millions): Whatever land you find yourself on, that is your country, that is your home. (Όπου γη και πατρίς).

With that in mind I’ve always urged others to take a leap of faith, explore, travel, live somewhere else if you can, risk comforts and familiarity because we leave our old selves behind when we have to embrace a new way of life. If we return to our place of birth; we do so with a much larger picture, a global view, a different story.

Enjoy !

Day. 13 &14- Monetizing Passion.

How can we reconcile our desire to explore all our passions, with the philosophy that only mastery leads to success.

One thing I’ve always wanted to be when writing on this platform is honest. There is no point in writing about anything without honesty, so on today’s post I’ll be a little less curated.

I’ve always been a woman of many loves and inspirations. This has been equal parts hindrance and blessing. There is no pretense in thinking I’m the master of anything that I practice, but after 20 years I can safely say, I’m a pretty decent yoga instructor/massage therapist and “working on it” writer. Photography, Cooking and Dance are my long term lovers. We don’t commit to each other fully but we can’t live without each other either.

Anything else in life comes and goes, but the passions seem to stand out. Unfortunately many of the people I’ve met and spoken to about this predicament share the same conundrum. Many of them title themselves under doing or being what they make money at, instead of what they are passionate about. If I were to follow that paradigm, I can’t hold any claim to the above mentioned passions. Yet better monetizing what we are passionate about pursuing, leaves us with a slight handicap. The ever mind numbing idea that when you make money off of what you love, you’re a sell out, and if you don’t make money on what you love, you’re not good enough or dedicated enough or with it enough, to be a success. Catch 22.

In the end for me. The passions win. If money catches up to them, I consider it a bonus. After all my observations about practicing what you love despite the rewards. I’ve come to this conclusion:

Keep the fire going even if you have only 10 people who love what you do, because in the end; what you love and strive to do well, shows. What you do for pure income alone, looses its luster and authenticity.

What are you passionate about and want to share with others?

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

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.

The courage to live life

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.

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Not all years are a complete loss.

Small gifts list of 2018

Care of Self

Quality not quantity

Learning to listen

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A small manifesto on truthfulness.

The shoulds- A list

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