Yesterday in yoga
in the tortoies
I pull myself down
and I felt my lower
vertebra opening up.
A nerve got pintched
I roled on my side
and then on my back
I didn't want to make
a scene or yell
but I had to rest.
The pain subdue a bit
I was able to continue
with a lot of care
going to my back.
Today I miss karate
to rest a bit more
I was sick last week
now I'm in pain
It's been a while
that I haven't been
on top of the world!
___ end of pseudo-poetry on pain
start of a diary entry ___
Death of a Tea Master
I watch yesterday:
'The Death of a Tea Master'
I was pleasantly surprised.
There are not a lot of movies that
capture my attention lately. But
as soon as I started the movie, I stopped
myself in my habitual scrolling trough
the movie first to see if it's of any interest.
A monk in a small cabin in the wood. The simplicity
of cabin living. Praying to the raising sun,
fetching some water to drink and wash his face.
Cleaning the laddle he used to fetch water.
Going back in to meditate and have
a chat with his passed away tea master...
I don't know of that director or these actors,
I don't know much about japanese movies apart
from Kurosawa, the Zatoichi series and anime.
But the movie was quite a trip, exploring
every elements of the tea ceremony, as well
as what it means to be a tea master, in life
and in death.
French Underwood
Last thursday I got my ink ribbon for the
100 years old underwood. I took some time
to test it out and make sure everything was
set properly. The shift still need some oil
as well as the accent key.
I love the feeling of writing on this machine.
I wondered what I should write about.
The machine has a French keyboard
so I should write in French.
But what to write?
I'm a voyeur, and I though that I
one day should write about it. Mix of
autobiography, psychology and social
exploration. It feels uncomfortable,
I can feel my inside churning, I don't
want to talk about it... That's what
I have to write about. Maybe it's just
for me in the end.
A friend of me wants to publish
a new book. I will design and print the
book for her. She starts with a quote:
There is nothing to writing
All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.
Ernest Hemingway
I understand that quote now. Really all
there is to do is to dig deep into my
emotion and pain and let it flow.
When I take a photo of a woman, and I get
aroused taking the photo the photo seems to
transmit that sensation.
If I write and bleed, the words create a sensation
in me, a healing or a release, I think that could
go trough to the reader...
Feeling the emotions as I create, maybe the creation
capture these emotions to be transmited to the audience?
