Peedeejo meenesi sapnjos visu laiku kaadu nogalinu. Nu, netiishaam, bet kaads mirst manas riiciibas deelj. Interesanti, vai tas ir saistiits ar aizrautiigo jogoshanu, un cilveeki, kas mirst, ir staasti, kas man vairs nekalpo.

Klikshkjiniet uz bildiites, lai noskatiities Pixar iisfilminju par vulkaaninju miilestiibinju

Ir manu draugu lokaa puikinjsh Alans. Vinjsh raksta runaajamaa vaarda dzeju.

Breathing

If you ever wish you didn’t forget that you were breathing.

If you have very little faith in fortune tellers, and even less in rear view mirrors,
then maybe we both just want to find people we can fart in front of,
people who don’t speak through filters like cigarettes.

And maybe we’ve both smoked only one first cigarette
and more than one “last” cigarette.
And maybe we both live in fear, the way fish live in water:
we breathe it, and we forget most of the time
that we can only move forward if we push against it.

But sometimes we remember,
and that’s why we’re here, on a coffee date,
sitting across from someone who is mostly a stranger,
but still hoping that their eyes,
or their hands or their words
will save your life, will say that they like you,
will say that they want you,
will say that we, we can’t give our hearts out whole
because we’ve both left too many pieces in too many people,
but, maybe,
we can at least each walk away with some small part of the other.

And you,
you will say nothing anyway,
knowing that one day, when you’re drinking or thinking too much,
you’ll remember this feeling
of wanting to hold someone but fearing to reach

because their eyes are one-way mirrors
and you can’t see what they see in you—
because maybe
you’ve ripped out too many pages of yourself for other people’s scrap books
and you don’t know if your spine holds together a story worth reading anymore.

I’ve tried to love someone else who was easier to love than myself,
so I know that sometimes today feels like an empty mailbox,
and you need a better reason to get out of bed than having no other choice.
Because instead of pushing silver dust our veins are just pumping this dark salty stuff
that will never see the light of day—
when we die, they’ll have us pickled, prettied up and placed on linen
before we even have a chance to stink.

But no matter how angry you are that most of this,
even most of this,
is just air,
remember that people are just waterfalls,
and we’re all falling toward the same thing.

Remember that sometimes leaves look like upsized golden confetti in sunlight
and trees stand up on their tip toes all day and all night
like toddlers trying to reach for something;
it only takes one beautiful thing
to make stepping out of your head today worth it.

So if I’ve ever watched you in a museum while you’re looking at a painting,
or if you spend less time in museums looking at paintings
than staring at the people who are looking at paintings,
you should know
that I want nothing more than to watch you step though all this empty space
and actually touch something beautiful, and hold on to it,
like it isn’t just the most obvious thing to do.

And it’s harder than it sounds. I know.
because I’ve been trying to try to
but every time I think I’ve found God, he melts on my nose like a snowflake
so I’ve been packing cold dirt in my mouth and wearing headphones
because I am too tired to talk anymore
and I can’t sleep to the sound of my own heartbeat
so sometimes it is just easier to have somebody else’s voice in my head.

But it’s amazing what silence can do.

And if you ever decide to put broken pieces back together,
I hope you at least fill the cracks in with gold.
It’s the broken places that make us beautiful,
and you should shine through them.

I’ve been throwing poems at the things that are far too far away for me to actually touch,
like you,

and keeping my eyes closed
so matter which way I walk
it always at least feels like I’m moving forward.

But, some days, I still stand still,
and rock on my rusty heels
and breathe,
letting this now take over
instead of reaching for the next one.

And you,

you are welcome to come breathe with me.

You are always welcome to breathe with me.

Sapnjoju, ka esmu staavoklii, bet tad atcereejos, ka man ir spiraale, uztaisiiju gruutnieciibas testu un izraadiijaas, ka neesmu gan. Labi, ka taa, jo nez kaapeec beerna teevs bija kaut kaads dzheks, ko tikai nedeelju deitoju.

Es runaajos ap 0m:45s un 4m:30s.

Vakarnakt sapnii redzeeju Londonas Tomu. Shodienas horoskops saka "Venus joining Dr Chiron on the South Node makes for the perfect week to relinquish resentment and old loves. But part of the healing IS to re-live or feel the love/loss all over again. It helps that your ruler Mars is in the Vision Sector. Putting your story in a broader context works brilliantly."

The Egg
By: Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.

Vakarnakt paaris blokus no maajaam redzeeju uz ielas jenotu! Jenots bija aptuveni ziidainja izmeeraa, vinjsh aptinaas ap koku kuram blakus es nostaajos. Mees saskatiijaamies, un vinjsh aiztinaas prom.

Par peedeejo gleznu iipashs priecinjsh

Kaut kaa taa censhos shobriid buut...

Manupraat dienas labaakais video:

banana

Mediteejiet zakjiishi. Luudzu, mediteejiet! Dzeriet nedaudz mazaak, piipeejiet zaali nedaudz vairaak. Kniebieties nedaudz retaak, sportojiet nedaudz biezhaak. Eediet galju, kas naak no miileetiem zveerinjiem, runaajiet ar staadiem un pukjeem. Smaidiet biezhaak, melojiet retaak. Miiliet sevi un cilveekus sev apkaart. Atrodiet ieksheejo mieru. Un tikai bishkjiit vairaak labaa un mazaak sliktaa, un buus nedaudz vieglaak.

Bet dodamies uz Rietumu krastu pirmdien agri no riita.

Iisaak sakot, wiikends bija shitaads: