Don´t ask what the world needs.
Ask yourself what makes you come alive.
Then go do that!
Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

Howard Thurman

gotta love this woman - eva la yerbabuena
video.google.com/videoplay

very cool: sevillanas like you've never seen before - eva with miguel poveda
www.youtube.com/watch

hmmm... nice production - sara baras
www.youtube.com/watch

more to come

I am too alone in the world, and not alone enough
to make every minute holy.
I am too tiny in this world, and not tiny enough
just to lie before you like a thing,
shrewd and secretive.
I want my own will, and I want to simply be with my will,
as it goes towards action,
and in the silent, sometimes hardly moving times
when something is coming near,
I want to be with those who know secret things,
or else alone.
I want to be a mirror for your whole body,
and I never want to be blind, or to be too old
to hold up your heavy and swaying picture.
I want to unfold.
I don't want to stay folded anywhere,
because where I am folded, there I am a lie.
And I want my grasp of things
true before you. I want to describe myself
like a painting that I looked at
closely for a long time,
like a saying that I finally understood,
like the pitcher I use every day,
like the face of my mother,
like a ship
that took me safely
through the wildest storm of all.


~Rainer Maria Rilke

translation by Robert Bly

(thank you, Chandra.)

When you are sharing your joy, you don´t create a prison for anybody —
you simply give. You don´t even expect gratitude or thankfulness,
because you are giving, not to get anything, not even gratitude.
You are giving because you are so full, you have to give.

-- Osho

She danced the dance of flames and fire,
and the dance of swords and spears;
she danced the dance of stars and the dance of space,
and then she danced the dance of flowers in the wind.

Khalil Gibran

(Thanks, Yasmina)

by Marge Piercy

Learning to love differently is hard,
love with the hands wide open, love
with the doors banging on their hinges;
the cupboard unlocked, the wind
roaring and whimpering in the rooms
rustling the sheets and snapping the blinds
that thwack like rubber bands
in an open palm.

It hurts to love wide open
stretching the muscles that feel
as if they are made of wet plaster,
then of blunt knives, then
of sharp knives.

It hurts to thwart the reflexes
of grab, of clutch; to love and let
go again and again. It pesters to remember
the lover who is not in bed,
to hold back what is owed to the work
that gutters like a candle in a cave
without air, to love consciously,
conscientiously, concretely, constructively.

I can't do it, you say it's killing
me, but you thrive, you glow
on the street like a neon raspberry,
You float and sail, a helium balloon
bright bachelor's button blue and bobbing
on the cold and hot winds of our breath,
as we make and unmake in passionate
diastole and systole the rhythm
of our unbound bonding, to have
and not hold, to love
with minimized malice, hunger
and anger moment by moment balanced.