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Father Casoigne

#cynthia choufani #montreal #alchemy #grief #drawing

Right after getting properly burned and kicked to the curb. Starting to feel the muscles come back in my body and the breath back in my lugs.

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What does your wise Self have to say to the “one living at the edge.” What does your wise Self want this one to know?

It depends what living on the edge means. Does it mean living in constant hunger and responding automatically to those instincts as soon as they are brought back to the surface, thus resulting in the exposition of certain dangerous situations for oneself? If that's the case, I'd say that edge and adrenaline can come in the form of a night alone, thinking about the ways you've cheated yourself, like a punch in the face, depraving oneself of drugs, alcohol and fake connections with people. I would call this the desert of the soul, and it feels like an exorcism. It's basically the same as a cocaine or MDMA hungover, but less painful, and with better clarity, and with the possibility of transfiguring it later for something better. It purges the soul of the superficial, of the programmings and the foolishness. I would even say that everyone, at one point or another, wants to lean on that edge, between life and death, to feel alive, to feel the inevitability of death and loss, to feel our humanity. I would go as far to say that it's an ancient pull, a bodily impulse that comes around when the mind and the body forgets we're human, getting on a program completely dissociated with what we were meant to do. I would say to open your arms and to dwell in it intensely. I would say that most people don't do this because it's like going thru a burning metamorphosis, it cracks your skull and your spine open and transforms you into someone else. It makes your grip on the outdated familiarity looser, and less convenient, and maybe I'm wrong but when you're dying, you're also less socially adaptative, or agreeable, because you're putting forth parts of you and others that no one signed up to see and hold. No one wants to feel like the ground they're walking on can shift and change, that everything is theirs and not theirs at the same time. They can feel that hungover feeling from you, this uncomfortable feeling of you not being sure anymore, of not being you anymore and doubting and mirroring those feelings back to them. This shift in you can make other people reading you harder to do, but you have to stay steady on your way out of your fragmented pieces, and they will come back together in a better steadier way, but first, you will be unsure and make everyone around you feel the same way. This is your journey now and it's temporary, and it will eventually give life to the ones around you, when they inevitably see that you managed to love all of you without fail, and got rid of the old, to make place for the new, in the hopes that they get inspired to do the same, and understand that if they do, they won't be totally alone.

#écriture #cynthia choufani #english writing #writing #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #littérature #litterature #montreal #alchemy

No one ever told me mistakes are invited and necessary, that they are a inevitable tool of breakthrough, that it's thru spoiled food, and messed up cooking that you get to make something truly wonderful, and that you need to fall on your head, and let people in your circus and look like a clown, while you're suffering and falling continuously. Fire cooks raw food. No one ever told me that falling is an art, and that like every spiritual tool, it transcends the polarity of good and bad, but actually works as a material. No one ever told me that the fifth time falling would be way more graceful than the first one, that one fall could even eventually command empathy and admiration that is mirrored thru the way I see my own mistakes, as godly and funny, as separated from all feelings of pride and rigidity. (I remember one time when all my money got out of my bag while I was falling on the street, and people were passing by and I said ‘ok guys, now's the time to come and get my money!’) No one ever told me that falling could give you the gift of fluidity, that it breaks your bones, that it spurts out all tension and gives place to your own body moving perfectly, escaping traps intuitevely, holding a cup and a full bucket of water in one hand, while your eyes are looking straight into the endless horizon, completely ready and open to the eventuality of falling yet again, and again, and again. No one ever told me it was a skill. No one told me that falling, like fire, burns away foolishness, and false ideas of how things should be. Life tells us constantly : you should not always be standing up. No one told me there was going to be continuous resistance to keep things, and our bodies, firmly on the ground, at all times, making the winds, and movements, and turbulence of life harder to go through. No one ever told me we live in a world that favors the energies that are generated from the lower parts of our bodies. Maybe, surely, if we were more in our hearts, in our throats, and on the top of our heads, it would be easier to move, and communicate with each other, and interact with each other, without being constantly afraid and stuck in our own corners, in our own rigid rules, and the rules of others. We could inspire a kind of transmutation between the supposedly good and the supposedly bad, so that there are no corners left, so that the extremities are visited from time to time but a constant hum and a deep inclination to the middle keeps us centered, devoid of any obligation to do so, devoid of any need to perfect it.

Accepting the fall. Come what may. Hands outward. Bending but not breaking.

#Resiliency #Résilience #Writing #Écriture #English writing #Falling #Alchemy

Art

100$ painting signed Cynthia Choufani for sell in Montreal

#artwork #art #cynthia choufani #cynthia

There is no coming to consciousness without pain. People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own Soul. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.

“If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, is more elastic, more starry, more immortal — that is your success.”

Henry David Thoreau

Tu m'a toucher les seins, et tu y a mis une confiture à l'absinthe, des blessures passagères, question de faire ta marque de commerce, sur mon quai de la paix. J’étais déjà marquer, mais l’excès est toujours apprécier, par ceux dont les deux oreilles sont bouchées.

Cynthia Choufani

Parce-que tu tiens en “laisse” le rebord de mes sous-vêtements. Le coeur léger, le coeur doux. Les intentions loin de l'exhibition, tu me montres c'est quoi d’aimer sans se venter. Pessimiste un jour, explorateur toujours. Il ne perd rien à devancer les autres (sans aucunes intentions). Mon amour, sans intentions.

Cynthia Choufani

#écriture #Québécois