samedi 24 juin 2017

La peur de la fin du plaisir

N'est ce pas là
Ce qui pousse....

Pensée, après pensée, après pensée.....?

L'image du plaisir
Et l'emotion perçue avec;

La peur de la fin du plaisir
L'energie de la réalisation de l'image;

La fin de la peur en elle même un répis

Avec la réalisation aussi....

....La peur
Du vide
Energie d'une nouvelle pensée

mardi 6 juin 2017

Can one earn a living honestly?

I was never quite sure what was meant by "what would you like to do tomorrow?"

The honest answer was and is "I don't know"
And the pictures of actions that bring a smile to my face
Are already in some ways known for me to picture
Relying on the past, I'd be
...lying on warm sand watching the magnificence of the sea
...delicately rocking my beautiful baby
...tenderly kissing the man I share kindness with
...smelling the perfume of a rose

Habits - repetitive actions and dependence - do not feature in it
There isn't one picture but many
Life is not pictures, not a theory
The real question is "how can one earn a living honestly?"

The assumption that we just need to picture the good dream and put effort in it and it will come true is
A lie
Addiction to nicotine and to people taught me this
Stress taught me this
Human greed taught me this
Human sorrow taught me this

It is about getting food, water, shelter, clothes without which biological life dies
It is about putting aside the lies that kill us also
This is not about wanting (rewards)
This is about needing (life)

When my father left the dining table when I said "maybe I could be a journalist (really meaning a dancer actually :-))"
When my mother's eye finally scintillated when I said "maybe I could be a doctor"

I studied medicine
It did not seem to involve too many lies

What was accurate was that I was studying medicine, and meeting men and women and learning with them about human relationships
I really did study and really did engage in those relationships
The study was successful - I passed exams and thesis and was given a large piece of paper with my name and "doctor" stamped on it in a very lovely way
The relationships seemed to share incredibly potent emotions I did not understand
Except for the few beautiful relationships where emotions were not the point, where there was no point

I front of profound guilt
I had to stop
And ask myself why I was living
It took me lots of putting aside of many lies
To discover what was true to me
It was a precious moment

From the most tender age
Watching adults lie
Watching the confusion brought in by trying to make sense of those lies
I somehow sensed
Problems had something to do
With lies

So there I was the doctor
In Italy
In the UK
Something was false again
I had spent 7 years studying
Half of those spent learning complicated ways
Of saying things other words could very well explain
Without an once of understanding the wanting peace, love and harmony of the human-actually-being sorrow, rage and confusion
I had learnt a bit from friends and boyfriends and husband and children and family
But science mainly offered machines and drugs
In between human beings

I did not enjoy seeing patients every 10 minutes
I did not understand elderly people and their strangely profound looks
I did not see  the huge difference between human sorrow and depression, between the 7 voices of the schizophrenic and the chattering one normalised for the rest of us, the difference between confused minds diligently followed and ADHD...I saw grading of greys between normal and abnormal not the black and white of disease and what it is not supposed to be. The large place given to medicinal compounds in addressing unexplained medical issues remained a mystery.

To look after my children under the sun and with the salty breeze of the sea
I found a job in research on HIV
I learnt about HIV and sex and morals wanting to permeate life in the name of science
And learnt about human greed
Research topics were not the obvious questions medicine would ask itself
Money chose research topics
Humans would get a salary and a name stamped on a research paper

I started humanitarian health work
When I decided to leave my only home i.e my beloved husband
In order to be free to stop
Not to run away from lies

I learnt about new countries
The fear of bombs, the fear of knives, the fear of machetes
And the excesses of escaping fear
Partying
Travelling
Earning
Spending
A lot

I learnt that honestly being there for beautiful children, their attentive eyes, their unsaid questions
Meant to listen and admit ignorance and lies
And spend time without feeling time
No time
Same with beloved husband
Even if it hurt
A lot

I saw hurt
At global, regional, country, individual, personal level
And saw how hard it was to look at it
Not escaping from it
Watching it

I learnt that human violence
Was the normalised disease
A doctor could not ignore

In wandering I met people by mistake
The lady who hosted me during my student life
The philosopher who talked about facts and questioned all believes
The professors who held my hands
The friends who never left

I met love in the most unexpected places

I slowly saw that defining health and disease
Had something to do with
Standards
State of the mind
Food
And
War
And not just, bacteria

And that we knew nothing meaningful about
Cancers, immunology and
Psychiatry

I saw this even more
When I decided that
I could not stand the lies in humanitarian health,
I could not "earn a living" stealing money from the poor
Since 90% of a budget we got for free
Did not sensibly reach expected "beneficiaries"

Numbers, plans, international meetings
Were all lies
Ebola exposed it to the world
I had changed jobs a hundred times
It made no difference
The helper was the helped

I tried earning a living
As a translator
Too many hours repeating what other people said
That money was just too painful to earn
I learnt there were very painful ways of earning an income
Looking at the world

I at some point felt ready
For meaningful conversations with patients
On pain, on death, on life

I first also had to stop the lies
That united me to groups like family or couple
In it I saw the beginning of love

I cannot meaningfully meet anyone in 10 mins
I cannot pretend to be other than the patient is
His contribution as precious as mine to the table of seeing
Dis-ease
Mal-a-dit

I could not travel heavy
The unexpected journey
Has no property



samedi 3 juin 2017

L'habitude à l'habitude

L'habitude me semble fascinante
Parce qu'elle remet en discussion des postulats bien établits
tels que
"je suis le capitaine de mon bateau"
ou le "libre arbitre"
Se retrouver à frénétiquement attendre le coup de fil d'une personne qui ne nous plait pas
Où souffrir maladivement de la cigarette qu'on ne veut plus voir en peinture
Laisse tout de même perplexe!

Et se focaliser sur l'objet de l'habitude n'aide en rien
La compulsion est la même vers substances et vers choses ou êtres
La souffrance de la frustration la même
La déchéance la même

Il me semble qu'une caractéristique propre à l'habitude
Soit celle de ne pas du tout s'intéresser à l'objet de l'habitude dans la relation
Se focalisant par contre sur les sensations que l'on espère en tirer
Directement, ou indirectment

L'habitude semble donc être un rapport solitaire, avec un intermédiaire, à la recherche de sensations
Et le plus intéressant est peut-être que
Lorsque tout espoir de sensation est terminé
Par "tolérance" à l'objet d'habitude
Le sentiment de ronronnante sécurité donné par l'habitude "per se", en elle même
Lie, me semble-t-il l'habitué
A l'habitude elle même
Au travers ce à quoi nous nous sommes habitués

Et c'est ainsi que d'épouvantables relations
Ne se terminent pas
Simplement
Gentiment
Honnêtement

La ronronnante sécurité espérée de l'habitude
Celle d'une relation pré-établie
Me semble finalement
Très intéressante

Parcequ'elle est peut-être à la source
De cette relation à soi-même à travers autrui

Parce que dans cette relation
Il me semble que les yeux sont fermés
Du départ à l'arrivée


vendredi 2 juin 2017

The unspeakable pain of a useful life

"What's the point of me, now that my work isn't valued anymore?"
Money wasn't the issue he said, he had more they he needed
It was about
Being "a point", a valued one for
Its "utility", to society

It took my breath away
It broke my heart
It truly did
To see life
Asking for a utilitarian meaning
Of itself
As if we should be
Useful
To actually live
And it reminded me
Of how we so simply destroy 
What we do not define as 
Useful on this earth
And obsessively attach ourselves 
To what we believe is so

I then listened 
Shocked 
To a father
Talking about his sick son
Son described as "waste of space" when sick -" I told him so, he understands that"
Hoping, fully healed he'd become
"Useful to society and useful to the family" 
Was it really drugs Sir, that hurt your son so much?

It took my breath away
It broke my heart
It truly did

That there is so little love in our heart
That the children we bring to this world without their consent
Are not welcomed as life
By their parents
By their society
Asked to earn
The medal of utility
Not only in economic terms
But in existential ones too
Raised by arid hearts
And becoming arid  too

Who of us escaped 
The unspeakable pain of 
A utilitarian life?

lundi 29 mai 2017

L’économie du 1% et la folie

Là bas, d’où je viens
Le 1% se couche
Sur le 99%

Faire-néants
Occupés aux grands plans
Médecins, ingénieurs, avocats, « ONG », « Nations Unies »,  politiques, hommes parlant de religion
Le 1%
« Emploie »

Jardiniers, cuisiniers, chauffeurs, ménagères, nourrices, couturières, gardiens, pêcheurs, guides, maçons,
« Démerdeurs »
Payés une misère

Le 99%
Qui ne sera pas
Soigné par le médecin, abrité par l’ingénieur, défendu par l’avocat,
Ne connaitra aucune des voitures, avions, hôtels des « ONG » « Nations Unies »
Espèrera de la politique ou des hommes parlant de religion
Faire partie
Du 1%
De faire-néant
Qui se couche
Sur le 99%

Sur une idée
D’ "intelligence"
De "connaissance"
Fondée sur tout

Sauf de l’amitié
Sauf de l'honnêteté

La normalisation sociale
De la maladie
Humaine
Laisse maintenant la place
Aux fous
Qui ont trop vu la folie du 
Normal
Pour ne croire à autre

Qu'à la folie

dimanche 28 mai 2017

Qui suis-je?

Celui qui sent
Celui dont les sens sont stimulés
Une relation à l'extérieur
Mais aussi une
Conscience
Le regard qui nomme
Qui selectivement re-connait
Qui a dejà connu
Ce regard nomme avec
Sentiment
Ce regard nomme
En choisissant
En découpant
En fonction de la
Quantités d'endorphines
Liée à la pensée
Images en quantités d'endorphines
En négatif comme en positif
Jugeant le vécu
Sur baromètre endorphinien
Fondé sur l'expérience passée
Donc limité
Je suis aussi
"Réalisation"
Sur la base du baromètre endorphinien
Limité
Imitation
Du passé
Pour que sentiments
Deviennent
"Réalité"
Mais sentiments ne sont pas sensations
Sensation reçue et donnée à l'instant
Sentiments échoant dans le temps
Sensations mêlées
Imprévues
Insaisissables
Sentiments définis, nommés
Limités
La conscience, une prison
Une séparation
Un isolement
Je, tu
Peur
De se tromper
A moins
D'écouter