I found myself on a patch of grass in the park on sunday afternoon. next to me a vintage copy of national geographic I got my hands on recently, but it was just sitting there, didn’t feel like reading.
two kids were throwing a soccer ball back and forth; one was clearly better than the other one. their dad’s later started playing with them, one dad was clearly better than the other one. after a few glances around I rested my chin on my knee and stared ahead into the lush green. slowly my mind went blank. not consciously but it just happened that way. at one point it almost felt like I didn’t hear anything else that went on around me, it was just me and the trees, swaying to the wind. not sure how long passed before I noticed a flake land on my foot, then another on my arm, two more on the blanket. I was so out of it that for a fraction of a second I thought of snowflakes, but in mid fall? in São Paulo??! I looked up and saw tens of pink flakes floating lazily downward. I haven’t noticed but I was sitting close to a tree with small dense pink blossoms. as the wind picked up the numbers increased. I dropped back on the blanket with my arms open and my eyes closed, zeroed in on the weight of every flake landing on my skin. one on my right eye, one on left arm, then another, 2 more on my face and on and on. after a few minutes it didn’t matter where they were falling anymore, as if I was an open hand collecting alms.

It’s a brand new day!!!

stop and stare
straight ahead
hold your breath
dont blink
swallow
feel the rush of blood
look within
believe what u see
u have to
wrap your mind around this
this is not where!
there is not how!
when is not to be!
why?
cuz its there
in front of u

Dia dos Namorados, Brazilian version of Valentine´s Day

The origin of the date  In Brazil, the ” Dia dos Namorados” is celebrated on 12 of June. But, that is only in Brazil. In other parts of the  occidental world person, mainly in the North Hemisphere , the day consecrated to the valentines is February 14, the “Day of St. Valentine” or “Valentine’s Day”.

As many other commemorative catholics dates , its origin is in Old Rome, the heathen parties of Lupercália, that happened in the middle of February.

The festival was dedicated the Lupercus (protective of the flocks and shepherds) and Juno (goddess of the love). In these festivals, the young women wrote their names in pieces of paper or cloth, placing them in a jar later.

The young boys removed a name and the drafted person would be the partner of dances and tricks during the festivals. The relation between the pairs is quite unknown. Some historians say that it was only established in the friendship and others, that the new couples spent the night together.

This change of the date in Brazil happens  here for two reasons: to heat sales in  June  and to use to advantage the proximity of day 13, Saint Anthony´s day(Saint Anthony) the patron saint of weddings)

The success was not immediate. Only after many years did this date  became synonymous of romanticism. Currently, the Day of the Namorados is the third better commemorative date for the commerce, losing only for the Christmas and  the Mothers day.

As for me? Well… We have a long weekend here. I´m traveling to Atibaia, a city just 1 hour away from São Paulo. It is located in the hills, so it will be probably colder there. I´m going with a group of friends from church, we´re have some Brazilian celebrations there an some extra Bible studies as well. The theme will be on what it is to have a mate and live according to what the Bible says about it and how to apply that nowadays.  That will be very useful to me as I´m in love, and we( yes, you read we  ) want to have a sound relationship. I will mention more on that soon, I hope. Meanwhile…..

Have a great “Brazilian lovers Day”

I just want to say…
… I’m tired today. And no matter what else I want to say, that’s all that’s coming out. I’m tired and the clock ticks with dull thunks towards clunking hours that somehow move at all the wrong speeds. And the people here are sharp-edged and sharp-tongued, rasping against my ears and my skin across all the space two cubicles can fill.

And I feel as if the complaints are foremost when that’s not what I wanted to say at all. I’m mangled and peaceful and happy and waiting for the flood and never-quite-sure and absolutely-certain. And all that’s here are the things I never want to say when I’m not alone. When I’m falling-down laughing over the silly moments of a round of disc golf. When my head is resting anywhere (but most often against his arm).

Somedays I just have to break down and say I don’t really know what I’m doing.