HUSH

I hate this bad energy inside me.
the one that makes me call my family and enlist the litany of complaints about all sorts of things.
about louts, idiots and people whose thoughtlessness proves harmful.

I hate the blockade which won't let me release the joy at summertime, yoga and my parents' return.
I hate the impulse that makes me cry when in the evening I'm alone with my thoughts.
I hate the senseless fears and neurotic reflexes that tear my thoughts and make me desire, regret and refuse to accept the reality the way it is.
I hate the inhibition which won't let me go emotionally and intuitively to the side where at the intellectual level I already know I want to be: the side of inner peace, joy and minimalistic satisfaction with those few things which, if watched carefully, should be appreciated and recognized as good enough.

in yoga, it is advised not to get frustrated when body cannot do what the mind has already figured out.
one should keep imagining themselves already able to do so; be patient and let the body take its time.
treat the body with love.

Thích Nhất Hạnh says one should regard one's anger as if it was a child that needs consolation.

so I try.

but the fact that tomorrow I'll find myself at the surgery room and in the next three weeks I can forget about yoga, just drives me crazy.

so does the awareness that from among nearly thirty companies to which I sent my CV, the only one that called me back is precisely the only one for which I do not want to work – but I'll have to if they want me (MONEY).

and seeing her every few days, yet being utterly unable to do anything.
when imagining that things are different doesn't change a thing.

gorzko

to nie zawsze zawołanie do
pocałunku do
szczęścia jak stąd do
wieczności.

czasem to całkiem do-
słownie.

greenhouse effect

After 37 degree heat waves, sweat trickles while doing yoga and the mornings like overexposed photos when black birds were screaming over my street, summer has suddenly cooled down and faded. Apparently, all the energy got used up within those few hot days. And I got deflated just as well.

This summer is an emptiness season. A season of nothing. Of void. A waiting room, but not one where you can simmer down, breathe again and collect your thoughts; rather a long corridor with no end to be seen; you want to enter the room, but no one calls your name and you don't really know whose voice to expect either.

I feign rhythm and duties: yoga, which I can't afford and for which I don't think I'm really suitable. Private lessons in English, though I admit I'm quite a poor teacher. Working for the club of translators and interpreters – volunteer job that doesn't really make sense and with which I'm left all alone as the rest of the board doesn't feel like doing anything for free.

I collect things I've been cramming into my drawers for months and years. I devote whole days to journeys to various offices – it appears that to change your surname doesn't have to be mission impossible in Poland, though I should perhaps wait a little and state it once I've actually succeeded. I also enrolled on a driving course – after six years of questions and moaning of my family. And in ten days from now I'm seeing the surgeon who will remove my birthmark which I was supposed to get rid of a long time ago.

As a result, I am a very busy person. Stuck under a heap of tiny little things, everyday rubbish that no one feels like touching. I listen to Zemfira and Nochniye Snaiperi all the time. The songs keep on playing in my mind and when I wake up in the morning, I have my jaws clenched and I hear Diana Arbenina.

I try to escape madness.

What helps are movies:



Articles:
http://www.colta.ru/docs/1631
http://www.colta.ru/docs/529
http://www.jeanettewinterson.com/column.asp
http://www.jeanettewinterson.com/pages/journalism_01/journalism_01_item.asp?journalism_01ID=285
http://wyborcza.pl/1,75475,12143769,Mam_gdzie_mysli_rozbujac.html?as=1&startsz=x

Books:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2009/oct/04/nine-lives-william-dalrymple-review

Radio programs:
http://www.polskieradio.pl/8/2222/Artykul/647175,Jak-skutecznie-zniszczyc-sobie-zycie
http://www.polskieradio.pl/8/1594/Artykul/643874,Trzech-fenomenalnych-anarchistow-

And nothing more.

Feels like cramped, closed greenhouse.

I find myself deeper and deeper in my yearnings, visions, images.

Today, when I was reading Monika Sznajderman describing the great space she sees from her window, it occurred to me that I might leave this city quite soon.

If only someone calls my name.

Yurev den

yoga Buddhism piano on the radio Stoicism
these are all attempts to tangle up the fate
in vain
for I will always choose intuitively
a fine metaphor
a beautiful woman
and sad self-sown mysticism
instead.