Blank page

Not having ideas, but having a pen…

Like a hammer looking for its nail
The pen is looking for his words.
Silence. The blank page.
“I have to do well”, a thought that censors me…
To defeat it is to regain freedom of speech
Which we all need.

Change activities?
No, no, no, nothing to do.
The pen makes eye in eye with the one who has the pen.

Like in a dance, they look for each other.
Like in a dance, ideas cradle,

The brain of the one with the eye and the ideas.
Like a dance, every well thought-out word
Like a dance, every step fits well.

Victory, that’s it!

He takes the pen
And the paper
Words will be able to twirl around
And draw their little swirls
On the page
Blank?

Aurianne Or

Solitude in a treble clef

Alone
Alone
The key
The soil
And me
All alone
Only one key

The others
The families
Friends of mine
The clubs

Nothing to do
Come on, I’m doing the right thing.
Without the heart
The shopping
Alone in the middle of others
Cooking
What’s the point if it’s only for me
The house cleaning
This makes you terribly lonely.
No mess
I’ve already tidied up fifteen times.
No more TV
I know all the programs
Reading
It’s hard to concentrate
And no one to tell what I liked about it
And museums, when you have nothing to say
The silence
It’s boring.
I survive

I prepare everything
For when there will be people
My tidy apartment is depressing me
I can’t blame anyone.
I am alone
I’m the one who made it sparkle
I control everything.
The treble clef is there, but there’s nothing on the range.

On the ground
Rolls my xylophone
I play alone
Festive tunes
And once a week
I see my teacher
He invites me to participate in a small orchestra
Two hours a week
I am no longer alone
But I still have my head in the handlebars
I listen to them with a distracted ear
And made me be taken over by the conductor

In the evening, there are many activities
Chess club, theatre or bistro
But not the restaurant, all alone, it’s pathetic.
On the other hand, during the day, there is no one there
And no activities
Nothing to do
Only things
Alone
If I stayed under the duvet
At least I’ll have some physical contact
That envelops me

Fortunately, I have Sol
My little dog I’m walking
I’m glad to see him so alive.
Taking advantage of every moment
Living life to the fullest
He meets other dogs
And I have other masters
We exchange some trivial things.

But why am I alone?
Because Hollywood and TV
Sell us love relationships
To consume and then to throw away?
Because I’m too afraid to commit?
Because I’m looking for a relationship that’s too perfect?
Because I accept relationships that are too bad?
Because I’m sick and no one wants a sick person?
I have no one to talk to about it.
I am alone
All these questions are swirling in my head
Dialogue monologues
Spinning like horses on a merry-go-round
Together and alone at the same time
Identical but with differences

In any case, loneliness
It’s good for consumption
One accommodation per person
A corkscrew
A nutcracker
A colander
One bed
A car
One buffet per person
One object per person
Even the heart becomes something:
A simple stone

Why did I leave them?
Why did I let them go?
Some are happier alone
But it is not my case
Will anyone be able to love me?
Can I let someone in
Even a little bit?
Will I be able to keep this one?
Sometimes I don’t dare say what I think to my friends
I have a bright smile on my face
And I adopt their ideas to make sure
To meet them again
One hour here and there
Half an hour another time.

In a family we share
Solidarity

I want to share
These goods to be consumed and disposed of
But I don’t want to
Doing this with the people I love.
I want a family
Even if it doesn’t match the clichés
Friends, roommates, open relationships, arranged marriages, shared interests
It doesn’t matter!

I want a real family
That is, people to hold on to
And that I can support
And above all
Being together
Laughing
Fighting
Seeking solutions
Debating
Shouting
Grumbling
To be reconciled
Cuddling up
Enjoying ourselves
And especially never to separate

Can I do that?
Am I going to have to try again
And screw me up like the other times….
Survival is not for me.

Maybe it’s like music.
To make it beautiful,
One must absorbe in it entirety
Let it live
Be part of the instrument
Give pleasure to other people
Expressing emotions
And make them, all beautiful,
Even the darkest ones
Repetition is formative
Advice must be felt
Then one has to make his own
To emancipate oneself from oneself
Take another form
To be more open to others
Playing badly at the beginning
Break the ears of your four walls
Then by dint of training
It’s getting good.

I want to be able to share this joy that I don’t have yet
And not being able to do without the ones I haven’t found yet.
I want to live.
I won’t let it go.
I’ll find my fairy tale
I’ll be a beginner.
Always a beginner

Aurianne Or

‪Thunderstruck for Percussion Ensemble Alumnado PercuFest 2014 dirigido por Rafa Navarro: https://youtu.be/SYSxOj6W7IQ


Sapolsky on depression – Stanford university: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/174143784840/stanfords-sapolsky-on-depression-in-us-full

Do help Mrs Dalloway: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/169114695450/do-help-mrs-dalloway-mrs-dalloway-virginia?is_related_post=1

Scared: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/158921847771/scared

J’ai dix ans et je sais que je suis différent: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/159005802757/jai-dix-ans-et-je-sais-que-je-suis-différent

J’ai trouvé ma place: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/172236407055/jai-trouvé-ma-place

Gris: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/181456424070/gris-education-à-ce-quest-la-dépression-pour-une

Tu peux ouvrir les yeux maintenant: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/158351101260/tu-peux-ouvrir-les-yeux-maintenant-ce?is_related_post=1

Change the words “HIV” and “AIDS” by “Mental illness” and see how you feel about it: https://aurianneor.tumblr.com/post/171419628695/change-the-words-hiv-and-aids-by-mental?is_related_post=1

No matter your religion or agnosticism.
What matters is what you do with it.
What matters is what you do.
And instead of denying evidence,
Use evidences to move forward,
To give humanity a helping hand,
Even if your hand is very small.

Aurianne Or


“Be the change that you wish to see in the world.”

“You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.”

“The various religions are like different roads converging on the same point. What difference does it make if we follow different routes, provided we arrive at the same destination?”

“The golden rule of conduct is mutual toleration, seeing that we will never all think alike and we shall always see Truth in fragment and from different points of vision.”

Mahatma Gandhi: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5810891.Mahatma_Gandhi


“ The secret of action is getting started” Alain: https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Émile_Chartier

 

Albert Einstein was considered at school as a bogus because he always had his head in the clouds. His name is now used as synonymous with genius. Is there a link between his scientific creativity and his state of mind?

Many Studies prove that yes, there is one.

For instance, Ut Na Sio and Thomas C. Ormerod state that: “When solving a creative problem, individuals benefit from performing a wide search of their knowledge to identify as many relevant connections as possible with the presented stimuli. Each time individuals reapproach the problem, they improve their per- formance by extending the search to previously unexplored areas of their knowledge network.” I invite you to read Does Incubation Enhance Problem Solving? A Meta-Analytic Review Ut Na Sio and Thomas C. Ormerod – Lancaster University: http://www.psy.cmu.edu/~unsio/Sio_Ormerod_meta_analysis_incubation_PB.pdf

and the Wikipedia article on  Incubation (psychology): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Incubation_%28psychology%29#The_Cases_For_and_Against_Dreams_Being_Useful_In_Problem-Solving


Jacques Higelin, Tombé du ciel: https://youtu.be/AJ5Dp-_QFQ8

 

Cut

And the violence
Feeling you are living with a head in a vise-grip
Living at another level of consciousness
Too tired to be able to use the brain
The head feeling dizzy
Discomfort

A hypoglycemia?
The lack of sleep?
Continuous stress pressure?
Not a minute of respite
Eat what you find
What you can

Feeling like you are not living normally
Just trying not to drawn
Trying to help others not to drawn

And then realize
They do want to drown
They ask you to leave them alone
They do not want buoys to be thrown at them
They want to stay
With their smashed brains
You try again
They shout
You try again
They want you to leave them alone
Then you are alone

Escaping alone.
Nobody’s helping.
Cut links with the ones you love
And let them drown as they wish
Feeling helpless.

Helping yourself.
Being rescued.
Trying to leave the past behind.
Building a new future.
Loving people who do want your help.
Feeling low but happy
Feeling surrounded.

Not looking back,
Except when low.
No contact with violence
No contact with the drowning ones.
Looking forward

Looking fulfilled.

Aurianne Or

I

SHE was scared
by all these men dying at sea
— in this dangerous impetuous Galician sea.

So they had crossed the ocean,
fleeing the poverty and famish of their village,
— called Orro for it was close to the gold and God of Santiago.

And they found this land,
where, he, the fisherman, became a bus driver;
on this safe land where they ate
Empanada de carne instead of
Empanada de bacalao.

But many years later,
back in Galicia,
she was still so scared
by this very same sea.

II

SHE was scared
By all these men dying at sea
— In this dangerous impetuous Galician sea.

So they had crossed the ocean,
Fleeing the poverty and famish of their village,
— Called Orro for it was close to the gold and God of Santiago.

And they found this land,
Where, her husband, a fisherman, became a bus driver;
Where she rolled cigars,
On this safe land where they ate
Empanada de carne instead of
Empanada de bacalao.

Her son studied and taught chemistry at Montevideo University.
She was scared knowledge would burn his head.
He was scared police would arrest him
For Molotov cocktails he did not make.
He fled to the first country
That gave him a scholarship.
He became French.

But he was scared for life.
Non podería escapar do medo,
Il était devenu paranoïaque.

Back in Galicia,
She was still so scared
By this very same sea.
¡Hay que comer! became her daily refrain
As she could not forget the days of famish.
She died falling in her bath.

Her son didn’t die in the water,
He chose his death;
He chose not to eat anymore
And drown into beer.

Drown into fear
or escaping it at last?

Aurianne Or