Sunday, May 25, 2014
Tom Hanks 's lonelines
original french text online since 25-05-2014

Friday, May 23, 2014 - 10:38 p.m. - mill

End of tour at 19:45 tonight, sh... round , shitty day, shitty week , year of crap, shitty life. Storms returning, clear time between drops, light and shade in the spring, sunsets was beautiful all week. It is almost 9.00 p.m. on the highway, I have dawdled, two phone calls before hitting the road. Fluorescent ray of light on buildings, gray blue background of a deep abyss next to the highway rest area. Nobody is waiting for me. What if my tower had good light, if I found the right angle? What if I seize the light tonight, a little? Turning in the empty commercial area looking for the right distance. Three roundabouts further, here I am, it is even more beautiful meadows.
Since my repeated passages near this red communication tower in the early morning or late evenings, the promise to myself that one day I will look after it, approach it, take time to watch. If one day telecommunication towers are deserted, I'll manage to squat one. A cave up there should be an unforgettable experience.

It's raining, a particularly stubborn beam hits my tower when I find access. Some pictures from the car with my cell phone. I'm about to leave, far away the road turns, what is that light there? side aisle available, I stop the engine, it's a rainbow being born. My tower lights, twilight gives me clarity, the rainbow unfolds slowly to draw a perfect semicircle. I only saw one rainbow entire sky in Provence, a few years ago, it was doubled, that is rare, two full semicircles is exceptional, it happens. It is rare to see the feet of the rainbows that balk at show their earthly attachments and prefer the clouds. Today this is where it appears to me, down to earth. Right place, right time, the important thing is not how things begin but how they end. A miracle  late in the day, others call it ecstasy, the important thing is faith. My life is full of such miracles. Perfect semicircle, birth of a second arc, very shy but it is certainly there.
Its best to wait the conclusion before ruling. The day was not over, the last word for the rainbow, weeks, years, life is straight in front of me. For several hours a storm was brewing anyway. Internet research, discovering other blogs, interviews, quotes. It is about loneliness, it annoys me but it's nothing to say, if I could even understand why. There are good feelings to discover in solitude that is true, but to claim it, create it, to search it as a starting point, the real life, the only portion of creation. Does loneliness be a choice? Tom Hanks in Cast Away does not choose his solitude. What are we talking about ?

We may end our life without being able to make a move in the incommunicable solitude of his own brain, we can begin its existence by paralysis or to land on a deserted island by accident, which is usually unlivable. Meet the Real is rarely a collective experience, except during wars, massacres and deaths. Tom Hanks has it's Wilson, a paralyzed girl invents pretty raptures and plays with her beautiful stories. What are we talking about?
Loneliness does'nt been invent, sharing either, which is the first between the egg and the chicken? What makes me angry is to be inaccessible. Imagine other inaccessible hardly console and ends up irritate me anyway. What are we talking about?
Into my second job, nurse, meeting solitudes is daily, disease, dementia, wounds and healing, pain of all kinds, anxiety, fear of the night, fear of day, go outside or not be able to do, resist, fight or accept, falls, fractures, bruises, ulcers inside or outside, spasms, sobs, unshed tears, decency, modesty, constipation or wordy, cynicism, self-pity, mutism, unwillingness or inability, illusion mastery, letting go, incontinence, deadlines, relentlessness, suspicion, gray complexion, pale, waxy, until the end suffering is too few sharing that enjoyment, that's how. Into my second job, liberal nurse, my tours only meet patients. Solitude caregivers, mine, theirs, I manage my feelings, good or bad depending on the day, do it properly or release, if you don't want to not come, you chose, you're paid for , it's your job. What are we talking about?

My work requires repeated practice of solitude, reading, writing, drawing.
My work, the real one, the one that feeds me. My first job, before being a nurse I am an architect, I learned to build, soft ground, unstable rock, sand, immersed in sea, one can find solutions foundations in any soil. No way forward towards my goals without this infinite time filled of me. Learn how to eliminate noise on the line and annoying background noise is critical. I seek this state of well-being, ecstasy, probably permanent, no need to name it I was born into it. Daily solitude necessary as are the lines at my fingertips, the colors, it doesn't hurt. I love silence and noise, light and dark, between the contrasts arise the metamorphoses. Sometimes you just have to wait, be there at the right time, right place, available, be there as often as possible, just in case. Over time the presences are discharged, we live with the absence. Be convinced that this loneliness is a choice allows to evacuate the origine of it, arrangement with the truth, it works well, assuming it is a land full with enjoyment, ecstasies and miracles, full of existence.

The possibility of sharing born of the overflow, of flood, pain, pleasure, rapture, it is humanly impossible to keep to ourselves these moments, the Real is not spoken but is diluted. We deposited a little there, a little here, the load is too heavy, you have to share, carry to several people . I was born patient, no doubt, long denied status, immediate action, reaction is still more fun, lively, enjoyable, it's in the risk that we find most substances. Even crash, in the worst you are dead, at least we will have a good life. Impulsivity is a key, enjoy what the sun shows, find the path to the tower, rainbow unexpected ,  so much better. What is reasonable does not interest me. What drives Tom Hanks to leave his island? We might just make it. We must find a way to live away from the cast away island, find the tone of the meeting, the trace of desire is the only one to follow, the right angle, three roundabouts later, my gift, a moment, the colors of a rainbow in the dark of night that installs.

9:18 p.m., the rainbow is fading away, now he lives in me. I dreamed about a real fight all week that would'nt be  a simulacrum to invent  reconciliation, a fantasy, yell at each other without tearing. What made ​​me angry is that no one is there to support along with me this day of sh... , year of shit, shitty life. A strong desire to bicker has taken possession of me. Reason enough to land in front of my communication tower tonight. What are we talking about? Ecstasy is an encounter with the Real, chance or accident, light ray, rainbow, the promise of sharing, one day I will speak of it, I'll show it, I will approach, I'll take care.

That's the desire that I give
It would take a whisper, a carry voice, measured, almost extinct so that some words are barely audible as little phrases we say hiding in the closet for we are not located and found, something that should especially not do any echo and remain in the space where it is pronounced, intended only to fill a small air cavity, the tiniest possible. If we could scream whispering I would.

myriam eyann


> Rainbow shoots
Posted at 10:26 - 0 comment

Saturday, May 10, 2014
As long as there are balls to untangle

Saturday, April 12, 2014 - 2:38 p.m. - at the mill

Yesterday sharing a video on Facebook, an artist has created a tangled skein of paperclips, a soft object about eight inches in circumference, but it is not a sphere rather a cluster, something that has no framework, a hybrid random structure moving between the mollusk and crustacean.
She handled gently, gently throws, one sees only the hand that takes this package, she hesitates, seeking his gesture looks like perplexed, incredulous as if she wondered what it is, or so what can I do with this thing or that shall prevent fascination to focus on another subject.
Fascinating indeed, I'm totally caught up in this picture, the hand manipulating this thing, the thing itself, all that this act of turning in all directions wake or attempts to emerge. I decided to share the video on my page and publish it with the comment: As long as there are things to sort out, all will be well.

My registration on Facebook date a few months. At first it was a way for me to network, I read on a chat that social networks are the new social skills, is what prompts me to participate, at least try, see what happens over there.
The beginnings are pervasive, it goes so fast, can we master such a flow, so much energy? It is addictive, time consuming, intriguing. I create a page, discovers, sharing, click on the like, publish my work.
Designs, graphics, photos, text, quotes, music, the source seems inexhaustible. At the beginning guided by the impulse of the moment my publications are going in all directions, the little lost ball Bourvil how to pass this publication of the INA, a funny quote takes place on my wall because it made ​​me laugh, an image that I like, a recovered memory of La Linea this little cartoon that we loved children, many works of art, beautiful pictures, of course. There are also so many cases in which commitment, awareness of what is happening in the world, position, reaction to political events, I surf too badly, like talking too fast without thinking about, one day comment further call to order, what happens here is not only virtual, it is a representation of reality, it speaks as you are.

Meanwhile my friends list grows, gradually I learn who is who, who is doing what, names come back, some will inevitably lose yet in the mass. My publications refocus my profile, sees friends is not fully controllable, forms back reactions or don't react to my attitude, my like, publications or comments.
What happens in this community looks like real life, a way to react, the rate of this reaction, the intrusive shy communicative mode, suspicious, generous, the position relative to each other. There are idols, some media figures, very active, those that dare not request, those we know and affordable. People change their avatar or their cover photo constantly, others always publish the same, there is the versatility, toughness, frivolity and depth, trhead, the disjointed words, sincerity and hypocrisy, representation and swap. Some profiles I like, how they use the tool fits my values​​, humanism, sharing, dissemination of knowledge, friendliness, respect.

Talking with my son about using Facebook. They say it's like a room, ok promised I would not return in yours. It's something young, well not I meet a lot of old. You can't master, ok I understood that too.
But this wealth of information, these images, something attracts me, let it be not rude but I'm not there to scatter me, the goal was to get into the network, take place in a manner or another. I publish less and observed. How do others do?
Internet is a great arena where everyone is speaking a kind of dream Socratic agora, finally. How to take part in the debate, how to be heard, do I have anything interesting to communicate elsewhere.
It's all so complicated, I look at the thing with perplexity on tips of my fingers, what can we do with it ? How to use this thing, what's the point?

When one persists in unraveling the ball, it becomes inextricable. A few months back feels good. I return to the net with conviction that I saw there is too beautiful, I can not give up. Cropping on my goals, the tool is so powerful, the goal is to do better with than without. Facebook works in the mode of sharing, I like this word share! This is what I want to do.
Discovered artists are both a source of inspiration, a suitable emulsion for my creations a promise of sharing. My preferences emerge around writing in particular, calligraphy, line, also return to the architecture, I continue to commit myself to certain causes and my network includes everything that revolves around these themes. This tool is confusing as human relations. I am also here to share my work, I do it in hopes of a return, the like I also love them.

The confrontation with the agora is a test of sociability whatever is said, we can only use that way with social resources and skills that we already live in, what it's coming back returns in the mirror is the picture not so deformed of ourselves, in the reflection is only a part of what exists, appearance condenses the essential.
To understand anything you must look for a very long time, who said that? It is not surprising that my shares will constitute Videos such as that shows the mass of paperclips, we love each other in what we are.
What is created is a representation, what is shown is a construction that reflects the person behind the mounting, walls are similar to their authors and internet to the mass that moves constantly, a non form fickle and slippery frame .
What we create, what we watch, what is perceived, which broadcasts, which remain anonymous, which means, that we care, that we share ....

On the occasion of Provencal holidays, exchange evening around what is the matter, what is perceived, you see this object, it is because you perceive, the mythical little phrase was wrong, it was rather, I see this object, I see it because I exist. Difference of perception, philosophy of matter, we are this thinking matter, the possibility of consciousness pre-exist in what constitute us, this is my way to solve the mysteries, my religion, my animism.
When I make a fire at the mill, watch the wood burn is a magnificent performance, the ember is vibrant, lively, cheerful, it transmits its energy, warms my body and soul. I go over the logs in the fireplace, shapes, patterns and faces appear in the furnace. Sometimes the fire is extinguished, the buche partially calcined ashes escapes and joins in the early morning collection of textures which populates my home.
What I saw in the woods, this buche so different, is a projection of my perceptions, an avatar of itself, transformation, changing destiny, buche not become ash but a picture, contemplation, Vishnu reincarnates, this is the definition of the avatar.
Purni explains the three Hindu deities, the stages of development, nirvana, detachment, follow the middle way, never ever think of the goal to reach it, the path of love only makes sense, love makes the material live, look and sharing , channel and define a specific point, about the one achievement, the most beautiful flower does not exist in the desert because nobody can touch it. Does the truth exists, can we share, what we perceive, what plans, what is said, what is done ....

I know a little more today, my socials skills grow and tangled skein rest, it's the better.
I don't know how to do it but do it anyway.
This phrase has become my mantra. It does not mean we should do without knowing how, or that what we do when it's not known to do it is a good thing, or that which is important is the action and doing at any cost even if we don't know. What it expresses is my matted ball and my surprise to find it permanently work in progress.
I don't know how to do it but do it anyway.

Saturday, May 10, 2014 - 6:48 -  at the mill

myriam eyann


> About the artiste Sandra Portto
Posted at 6:59 - 0 comment

Wednesday, May 7, 2014
If I fall

Thursday, February 7, 2013 - 5:23 p.m.

It happened during a period of delirium believe me at the edge of an immense chasm, extractor fan surrounded by dizziness. My fall seemed inevitable, a multitude of people going to get sucked, ready to fall, pushing, pushing without purpose, unable to restrain themselves, brought there by a greater strenght than their combined masses, could not be arrested . A sort of giant bulldozer raked in fact all this world to the precipice. No one had wanted to fall, that's when the idea came. If the gulf could swallow us one by one he would have less power if we fall all related to each other. If given a large piece of meat to a ravenous beast even incredibly, fierce and sharp teeth, it can stifle to swallow too much or if it has already swallowed part and it can not be divided and sticks that which is not yet in her throat, she missed air sooner or later, even a chasm needs to breathe to stay alive.

If I fall you fall, if you fall I fall

Thereby linked, if I fell, all fell, if one fell, we all would follow. It's not me it was saved but all through my own link. If I fall you fall, if you fall I fall. Weaving my links is a measure of survival, if one day the gulf tries again to suck me or if someone pushes me, a chain reaction will do that whatever happens my links prevent the fall. Perhaps that it is the way to goes kill the gulf.

If you fall I fall, if I fall you fall

myriam eyann


> Petry of St Augustin and Charles Peguy
Posted at 4:33 - 0 comment

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There are authors who write with light, others with blood, with lava, with fire, with soil, with mud, with diamond powder, and finally those who write with ink, the unfortunate, with ink simply.

Pierre Reverdy, Le Livre de mon bord