Gypsy souls, magic dust and life beyond the big 50.

I could never understand people getting 'tired' of supporting their closed ones emotionally. Some people act like knights in shiny armour when they first meet someone who looks like they could use a friendly shoulder. They offer the sky. They go above and beyond. And then as time goes by and they realise that their presence, alone, though helpful, doesn't make the other person magically solve their problems, they get a bit bored of the whole thing. I guess it might not be as ego fulfilling, being THE one that provides a solution is such an attractive idea.  But truth is, most deeply ingrained issues take years to see a way forward from. Sometimes decades. Sometimes they'll always be there, even though people learned to deal with them better. Our role, as friends, closed ones, partners, parents, whatever, is not to 'make them go away'. We're not Gods. It's also not up to us to decide how long it takes that person to overcome something. It's not up to

It's dark outside. It's dark outside all day and I struggle with that lack of light, it's like a fog is over our heads all the time and my mind never quite clears as it should. Like I'm stuck in one of those dreams in which you want to wake up, but things don't quite work as expected. Having said that, it feels a bit like the world is not quite working as expected. People have gone obscure. Like there's a dark veil over their consciousnesses too. I feel like I'm waddling through muddy waters when I try to speak to people. Rejection sensitive dysphoria tells me it's me. I've grown dislikeable. Now that I don't try to please everyone, people don't like me as before. Is it that? Am I still accepted as I am, now that I grow more and more into myself? And how many people will get tired quickly once they get too close? How many of us ask themselves these questions but never voice them? And how quickly do we get disappointed with people because they

Different ways of communicating doesn't equal different or lesser depth of feelings..... It's common in the neuro-divergent world for people to mask our reactions to the exterior world. We pretend to be 'normal'. Which is weird and contradictory...because what makes us stand out is exactly being somehow different. I have no problems standing my ground against a society that dictates rules I don't agree with. But with personal/social interactions I often follow the other person's lead. Which means if you're a hugger, I'll probably welcome hugs, if you keep your distance, I will probably do the same. It takes a huge amount of trust and a perfectly clear situation for me to be able to cross barriers on my own, without the other person's lead. That usually means that if people take one step back I will usually take three just in case I was intruding too much. In other words, I'm terrible at making myself clear sometimes, unless people actually speak

Autumn is nearly here and with deep breathes I strive to keep faithful to my internal and external journey. The world asks of you everyday. Not only society and 'the world' in the more abstract sense of it. But people around you ask of you too, constantly, in ways that go beyond words. It's a weird balance to achieve, how much we can give without giving ourselves away, where do we meet each other in a free, fair, balanced way. How do we say 'I can give you more until I am able to give this much to my own self, without sounding and feeling selfish. Self centred. How can we feel peacefully entitled to our own space and time for growing and getting stronger.  Autumn is nearly here. I know what my path is but I often get stuck in this struggle of being thrown off my path by little things. Little things that have no name and are hardly visible.....but the weight of them can still be so strong, so perceptible, so unbalancing. 

Chilly morning. The coffee becoming quickly cold in my hands. Some days, it's hard to resist the temptation to jump ahead of myself, dream of warmer days, sunnier days, brighter days.  My soul closes in itself when the winter has outstayed their welcome. I want to become silent and quiet like the snow. I want to roll myself into a small ball like a hibernating wild animal. But I'm human, and my humanity screams at me. Being human means I can't be content with just existing and letting the seasons past by me, sheltering when it's cold, stretching in the sun when it's warm. Being human means I have this will inside me, to explore further, to understand, to feel, to create, to love, to express myself, to have a purpose. To dream. To feel everything so deeply.. Being human means feeling all extremes in a way it becomes nearly overwhelming sometimes.  I try to focus my mind. I try to fill it with inspiration, creating. I try to find a path that leads me from this place o

So here we are.....this is that time of the year in which I invariably hit a wall. I can not remember a January/February over the last few years in which I wasn't dragged into some depth of depression. I thought this year would be worse than ever, after not having my usual portion of proper summer last year. But against all expectations, things were going really well, better than usual. One should never speak too soon, though, or, as we say it in Portugal, expect the egg whilst it's still on the chicken's bum (I guess weird sayings are universal, hey....)  It's a weird time to feel down, as I can imagine just about everyone telling me that it is such a hard time for everyone. Which, indeed, it is. But coronavirus or the resulting lockdowns were never a source of depression for me. Worry, yes, definitely. Not only for the pandemia itself, but of course, for all its possible ramifications. But not depression. I enjoy my own company and I have such a vibrant internal world

For years I thought that maybe I was weak. Because I didn't live life like others. For years I thought that maybe I was broken. My life missed the external skeleton others seem to have so easily.. For years others thought me eccentric, because my priorities differed from theirs. For years I thought I lacked bravery, because I didn't show up every day in a shiny armour, waving my weapons around. For years I thought I had more downfalls than most, because I could not pretend to have the qualities they spoke of. But now, as I grow older I wonder.... What's braver than showing up dressed as you, when so much of the world walks around as in a masquerade? Does my life really lack substance, just because I failed to give it a shape everyone else seems to recognise easily? And what do words mean anyway, when actions fail to support them?  Now I am able to value the fact that I have always been honest with myself. That I never let the image of the person I wanted to believe overpowe

It's been a long long long time since I last had a personal blog post. Personal as opposed to it being published in my website blog with preoccupation as to how it affects my brand image and the coherence of my image as a business. Because other than that, all my posts are personal to a level. I never write anything I don't feel, and why should I? The whole point of writing for me is communicating and one can only communicate through true feelings, anything else is nothing but an exercise of style.  It's funny to look back and realise how much have changed whilst at the same time so many other things remain in their essence. I am still a searcher of wonders, of true connections, of magic. I still get utterly frustrated in a world that chooses masks over flesh and bone. And albeit I, myself, carry and display my own masks, I have perfect awareness of what they are and why I use them and assume all responsibility for the choice of their use. In other words, I do not glamouriz