Magic People, Guinea People

Mythology of Earth-links is amusing. There's this nomad-tribe, one of the last ones left in the jungle of Papua New Guinea - Meakambut, not more than 100 people they live day by day in caves, hunting and planting pumpkin seeds, dressed in leaves and flowers. And these people have their own culture. Not written, not complicated one, but nevertheless magical and beautiful. The legend of creation. It's spiritual and pure. Only one detail bothers me - the sex issue. How come the only way of prolonging life it is always the source of destruction of human morality? Do we really become so possessed by it's power so we forget our souls? Havent we learn anything for thousands years of cultivation? Do we need to? 

I have only questions. And one legend to pass:

In the beginning, Api, the Earth spirit, came to this place and found the rivers full of fish and the bush full of pigs, and many tall sago trees, but there were no people. Api thought: This would be a good place for people, so he cracked the cave open. The first people to pull themselves out were the Awim, and then the Imboin and other groups, and finally the Meakambut. They were all naked and could barely squeeze out into the light. Other people were inside, but after the Meakambut came out, Api closed the crack, and the others had to stay behind in darkness.

The Awim and the Imboin and the Meakambut spread across the mountains and lived in rock shelters. They made stone axes and bows and arrows, and the hunting was good. There was no hatred, no killing, no disease. Life was beautiful and calm, and all people had full stomachs.

At this time men and women lived in separate caves, John continues. In the evening, the men would go up to a special cave to sing. But one night a certain man pretended he was sick and stayed behind. When he could hear the men singing, he snuck down to the women's cave and had sex with a woman.

When the men returned, they sensed something was wrong. One man suddenly felt jealousy, another felt hatred, another felt anger, and another felt sadness. This is when man learned of all bad things. This is also when sorcery began.

*The photo and the story are taken from a feature in the last issue of National Geographic magazine

B-b-b-b Bright is word

Stumbling on different websites I fell down and started to explore Jeff Goin's  tutorials on "How to be a successful writer". And even if it sound too American for my suspicious, dark East-European mind I've committed to try so and here it is - my first steps in the quest of finding my Inner Writer Voice.

According to Jeff the starting point is portraying myself in three words. That's generous! The last time I needed to describe myself I was given only one word. One simple word to pin a specter of thoughts, emotions, feelings...I surprised myself how easy I found the word - bright. It might be a little bit cocky but it is the way I think, feel and express. Now I can add 2 more words. And this is harder. And confusing. Whatever I think of - cheerful, curious, conscious, friendly, genuine - it doesn't complete me as much as I feel bright does. Which makes me think about something else too. As writer I use words - the mere the better. But then when you find one right word to say what you want how can you feel a 400 pages with words? 

Atlas Shrugged - Bulgarian style

10th March 2012:  She was walking fast in front of me in the steel mist of the cloudy day. Short, middle aged woman with red dyed hair, oversize second hand parka, belonged back in the 80's to unknown farmer lady somewhere in Virginia. She clearly had heavy thoughts on her mind - her head hidden between her shoulders and the eyes nailed on the stoney pavement her feet cutting it with every step. She wasn't a woman but a loyal mother, housewife and money maker (through some hard 10 hours labor in a sewing factory). She hasn't got a female power, she was human donkey balancing 2 weighty plastic bags in her hands. She was the lady with Harper's Bazaar bag full with re-used plastic bottles. Misplaced, a grotesque figure of a the glamoring lady from the add. Nothing at her look was equal to the modern world. She was just like the bottles she was caring around - re-fill, re-used with changed contain and vague strawberry flavor left of once original sparkling liquid. I wanted to take her picture but she suddenly stop, turn around and with tired smile told me: Let the young ones go ahead, I shall not belate you! And I did what I was told after all she was the Great Mother of my land - equally pitied and adored, loved and despised, steel strong and weak as autumn leaf.

emotional eater

I dont want kids. But probably my female instinct has its needs. So instead I'm cooking. I'm spending 3-4 happy hours keeping myself busy preparing food I don't want to consume, but I'm hungry for appreciation. I'm craving the happy faces of my family, the glitter in their eyes when I put the dishes on the table. It makes my day.

  I'd love to feed someone because I'm hungry for love and affection. It's my deal - I make you full with food, you make full with love.

wonder woman

I dont want super powers. Flying on my own will just give me headache and toо much flies in my mouth. I want to make simple wonders - change someones day just by saying the right words, sending flowers to my mom and signed them from my father,  visiting my friends i havent seen long time and spend some quality time with them, take my brother on a trip and convince  him life aint only about counting money and work, embrace my inner self and stop being afraid of rejection. Which means I havent learn the magic  yet.

Jo nekem???????

To see or not to see?! To look the truth in the deep dim eyes or put the color lenses and see it how you want to be. Red is the color. Passion. Fire. Spirit. Happiness and loneliness. My eyes are color blue today. Am I hiding behind their walls?

when i say nothing at all

Your paradise is not for me. My hell is not for you. Meet me on GJ 1214b. We'll name it properly. And we'll remember. The dream from last night.The memories from my childhood. The forgotten life we could have. And we'll make a soundtrack with trembling lips. I'll start with this song.