Making Herstory By Cindi Silva / Δημιουργώντας την ιστορία της...Της CINDI SILVA

They say every story
Has a beginning

a middle
and an end

Her story
The beginning . . .

She started out from a typical 2 parent middle class
Blue collar background
Her mom worked inside the home
Struggle, strife but never lacking anything

The middle . . .

She was living the American dream
A beautiful house, 2 cars, 2 beautiful children, a high paying job
And never lacking anything

Until one day it all changed and she experienced loss
First with her health; a diagnosis of cancer;
Loss of relationships - some people can’t deal with cancer; and even loss of her marriage;

Then there was the material loss that came with the other loss and an unforgiving ex;
The loss of the beautiful house; her 401k she was forced to live on while the divorce stretched out for four years (at the time of this prose); the loss of her car (she had always had a car since
she bought her first car in high school)

She realized that loss brought her insight and awareness;

and she started writing again; because she had a message to send;
she wasn’t bitter from the loss; at first she was disappointed; but she got over it; and a good friend told her she should write a book; which she did; and then poetry started pouring from her heart and soul;

loss brought her a gift gain; she was actually a more prolific writer than ever before; loss brought her so much to write about.

Her goal to raise awareness ; and unite us; to let everyone know they were interconnected and never alone; because no one should ever feel alone; and there was so much more to write about.

She liked to remind everyone that there is so much beauty in the world to be enjoyed each and every day
No matter what else was going on in their lives; she knew this to be true

The end . . .

The end will come with her last breath until then there will be endless possibilities and like every good story no one knows where the story will go next;

Until each page is written by you in your own story and each new page brings more possibilities to live life fully, joyfully, and mindfully.

this is her story . . . my story . . .

succinctly . . .

Have fun! Live a life filled with kindness,hope and joy;
This is it, this is life!

ΜΕΤΑΦΡΑΣΗ ΑΠΟ ΧΡΥΣΑ ΒΕΛΗΣΣΑΡΙΟΥ

Λένε ότι κάθε ιστορία

έχει μια αρχή,
μια μέση,
και ένα τέλος.

Η ιστορία της
Η αρχή. . .

Προήλθε από μια τυπική οικογένεια μεσαίας τάξης.
Βιοπαλαιστές.
Η μητέρα της ήταν νοικοκυρά στο σπίτι της.
Αγώνας, συγκρούσεις, αλλά ποτέ δεν της έλειψε τίποτε.

Η μέση. . .

Ζούσε το Αμερικάνικο όνειρο.
Ένα όμορφο σπίτι, δυο αυτοκίνητα, δυο όμορφα παιδιά, καλά αμειβόμενη εργασία.
Και ποτέ δεν της έλειψε τίποτε.

Ώσπου μια μέρα όλα άλλαξαν και βίωσε την απώλεια.
Πρώτον της υγείας της. Διάγνωση καρκίνου.
Απώλεια κοινωνικών σχέσεων - μερικοί άνθρωποι δεν μπορούν να αντιμετωπίσουν ούτε ως ιδέα τον καρκίνο. Και ακόμη απώλεια του γάμου της.

Μετά ήρθαν οι υλικές απώλειες που συνόδευαν τις άλλες απώλειες και έναν ανελέητο πρώην.
Η απώλεια του όμορφου σπιτιού της, οι οικονομικές απώλειες, αφού αναγκάστηκε να ζήσει εξαργυρώνοντας το συνταξιοδοτικό της ασφαλιστήριο για τέσσερα χρόνια μετά το διαζύγιο (τον καιρό που γραφόταν το βιβλίο όπου αναφέρεται αυτό το κείμενο), η απώλεια του αυτοκινήτου της (είχε πάντα ένα αυτοκίνητο από τότε που αγόρασε το πρώτο της στο γυμνάσιο).

Συνειδητοποίησε ότι η απώλεια της πρόσφερε διορατικότητα και ευαισθητοποίηση.

και άρχισε να γράφει και πάλι' γιατί είχε ένα μήνυμα να στείλει'
δεν ήταν πικρό από την απώλεια' αρχικά ήταν απογοητευμένη' αλλά πήρε σύντομα τα πάνω της' και ένας καλός φίλος της είπε ότι έπρεπε να γράψει ένα βιβλίο' πράγμα το οποίο έκανε' και στη συνέχεια η ποίηση άρχισε να ξεχύνεται από την καρδιά και την ψυχή της.

Η απώλεια της έφερε ένα κερδοφόρο δώρο' στην πραγματικότητα έγινε πολύ πιο παραγωγική συγγραφέας από ποτέ' η απώλεια της πρόσφερε τόσα πολλά για να γράψει.

Στόχος της να εγείρει την ευαισθησία' και να μας ενώσει όλους μαζί; να κάνει σ' όλους γνωστό ότι είναι αλληλένδετοι και ότι δεν είναι ποτέ μόνοι' γιατί κανένας δε θα έπρεπε ποτέ να αισθάνεται μόνος' και υπήρχαν τόσα πολλά να γράψει ακόμη...

Της άρεσε να θυμίζει σε όλους ότι υπάρχει τόσο πολλή ομορφιά στον κόσμο να απολαύσουμε κάθε μέρα όλες τις ημέρες της ζωής μας
ανεξάρτητα με το τι άλλο μας συμβαίνει' ήξερε πια ότι αυτό ήταν η αλήθεια.

Το τέλος . . .

Το τέλος θα έρθει με την τελευταία της πνοή, μέχρι τότε θα υπάρξουν ατελείωτες δυνατότητες και όπως κάθε καλή ιστορία κανείς δεν ξέρει πώς θα συνεχιστεί παραπέρα...

Μέχρι όλες οι σελίδες να γραφτούν απ' τη δική σας ιστορία, κάθε νέα σελίδα σας προσφέρει περισσότερες δυνατότητες για να ζήσετε τη ζωή σας πλήρη, με χαρά, και προσεγμένα.
αυτή είναι η ιστορία της. . . η δική μου ιστορία. . .

συνοπτικά. . .

Διασκεδάστε! Ζήστε μια ζωή γεμάτη με καλοσύνη, ελπίδα και χαρά.
Αυτό είναι, αυτό είναι η ζωή!

DO NOT FEEL SAD

Look at me!

I won't hurt you.
The stars up
though they explode
simply sparkle.

Do love me!
Do not suffer
I 'm near you,
from afar,
where I stand.

Gentle souls
we 're burning
as upright
candles in
candle stand.

Our dear love
While fatal,
blissful though,
like a dream
or a death.

Dedicated to Chouchou Maldemar

METAMORFOSIS

Feeling alone
in the middle of 
many people ,
opened my heart

to presences,
I would never
be able to see
they were near me.
Bright soulmates
surrounded me,
give me the hope
raise my dreams range
and excite me.

You, the cause of
my loneliness
and gateway
to a new today.
That's why we met
-don't say in vain-
since the one was
catalyst to
transformation
of the life of
the other ; in the
sunset of a
caterpillar
rises the start
of butterfly ...

THE UNFULFILLED

by  Nocid Eia

In your bottomless glance mines,
I fight against silence.
To your voiceless cries  exiles,
I even lose my prudence.

Trying in vain to eliminate
every memory kept,
unreasonably to castrate,
every beautiful is trapped

Absent love will be forgotten 
Might I  live  without.
But my heart have been broken,
like a bough cutted out .

Death won't hurt you neither surprise 
'f I die away from home...
It won't be me to close your eyes,
when your time will come.

Sometimes I  find a way to escape.
I see you as out of wear.
Vision endured till mornings rape
which for a while I dare.

THE LOWS OF PROBABILITY

Theory of Probability: Acrylic on canvas 36in x 36in  

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2156792/No-photographs-Astonishing-acrylic-paintings-detailed-look-like-taken-camera.html#ixzz24ZWl7vMA

 

Take me in your arms and
keep me for yourself.
I want nothing else 
to become anymore
than the mirror of your soul.
I crave for serenity.
You called me a fairytale
You called me a lie.
You were terrified,
you renounced the possibility
just when it had matured to certainty.
You crave for serenity.
Suddenly you fell in love.
How could you accept it?

MY TRUTH

              Scent of flowers by Luda Angel                   http://www.ebsqart.com/Art-Galleries/Artistic-Nudes/22/Scent-of-flowers/658467/

The truth in me were you
and how you saw me.
You were my choice;
my audacious, 
mistimed,
short-lived,
although beautiful choice.

I'll never call 
the acceptance
of the beauty and
of the sincerity
a lie.
I wanted to live with you
every second which I experienced,
for as long we both needed it.

I picked the flower 
impulsively,
I enjoyed its aroma,
its dazzling details,
just believing in 
the eternity of that moment,
in nothing else.

Who doesn't know that a bud
will flourish, will give its scent
will reveal its splendid core
and then will wither?
Who dares
to ignore the almightiness of an end?
Who ever called rememberance a fraud?

I am what I lived in and you
stood in the eye of my life's cyclone.
I love you because 
you deprived me of nothing 
which I craved for
I love you because
you let me dream
every night in your aura.
Even when you are not here.

DISINTEGRATION

http://www.flickr.com/photos/toshsuo/6688564515/sizes/z/in/photostream/

Solitary oak,
struck by lightning,
I can not stand to outface you
lifting up branches,
deepening roots in soil
and me, a filthy earth's mushroom,
to suck the rotten from the yellow leaves,
to decompose dead members
of lush memories.
I yearn to be a bird
chirping up in your branches,
enjoying your rustling  in the wind,
although  I will be it never.

Maybe  you still need me

to fertilize you and feed you.

Truffles and chanterelles around
will nourish you.

I belong to the family of Amanitas
being fully aware
of the hallucinations and damages, I can cause.

Let me be wilted, let me be self-absorbed.
Otherwise, I cannot 
uproot you from my inner self.
As long as my soul lives, you're mirroring it.

ON THE THRESHOLD

http://www.buamai.com/image/36514

Why are you standing on the doorway?
Why don't you talk to me?
Why don't you talk to me?
My eardrums are broken by your silence.
Neither Hello, neither Good bye.

That's enough!
I want to pass out...

Ach dear, if you only stop me
Ach dear, if you were keeping the door locked!
I've never been worthy for this...

I'm a nothing which exploded
I'm waiting stoically to become nothing again.
The Universe is still waiting though...

CLICK!

Cowards! Cowards!

I'm tired of opening my arms to the betrayal.

Of keeping my ears tightly sealed to lies.

Of accepting weakness.

Of being ridden by the incapacity.

Of proving the obvious.

Of failing in, failing in, failing in

and of giving, giving, giving ...

until finally the offering hand is bitten 

deadly, estoppel

absolutely without hearing any apology.

As if everything was good and well done.

"Spray, wipe, you're done!"

Press the button, power off! Whew!

What can I do

if I do not believe that

they will be punished by good God one day?

What else?

The poor sucker sits down and cries ...

©CHRYSSA VELISSARIOU

A SMALL MOURNING

Caracalla (Altes Museum, Berlin)

So dear, you know I'm weeping because 

I did not see you as the important man you are

I did not want you for your credentials

I did not need you to serve my arrogance and ambitions

I did believe you were my destiny

I did love you

You were simply my wolfy

And this did not even cross your mind...

So dear, you know I'm weeping

I am mourning for you

And I also pity you.

Strange...