the dance of the ink riddled fingers

brilliance in low definition

Posted in i like to music music by enisea on 12/04/2013
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a lot more happened, I was just too busy enjoying america to take enough photos.

Posted in frozen frames by enisea on 11/04/2013

packing weight transit activity Captain overrated clean break - broken ring passionate state world of excess: Disney mine new ring, different status

madness

Posted in heroes of mine, pin the tail on the love, thought spills by enisea on 08/04/2013

It doesn’t take much.
Not much at all.

Just a little trust, and a little hope, a little smile and a shared thought. Then a little more trust, a little more hope; bigger smiles and developing understandings. They all began to make sense over 474 days. Turns out, I’d begun to see my highest hopes in another person.  As though everything I’d hoped for was hidden in one man.

And no, he wasn’t perfect, nor was he Jesus.

Therefore I couldn’t possibly want him, or rely on him, or give my life to him. Could I?

...mm, maybe, I could.

Maybe I could trust a man who wasn’t Jesus.  Maybe this idealist could be completely enamoured by one rugged and imperfect man.

He thought/thinks differently.  I can’t actually remember when it happened but he became  more and more interesting.  He fed my curiousity with various dreams, ideologies and questions.  He kept me intrigued with the world, being my personalised broadcaster of current and historic knowledge.  I learned of everything I had never seemed interested in, nor care about, nor knew about – until he began to introduce me to a wider world.  I often still maintain disinterest, but now by choice, not ignorance.

He treats me as though I am the most beautiful person in the world, and I still don’t really know how to apply make-up.  But he prefers it that way.  He makes me laugh, he makes me feel like I’m the sensible one frequently because he’ll have no problem being ridiculous.  He’d sometimes be defensive, few times irritable and often boyish.  Occasionally vulnerable and seriously charming.  He doesn’t always hold the door open for me, but sometimes he will.  Sometimes he’d pick me up and hang me upside down.  And to be honest, I can’t really remember what it was that drew me to him.

It’s madness.  Madness to be in love.  Madness to want almost pathetically just to be in the company of this other person. To learn more about them, study them all the time, give them more than you’d give yourself.  It’s madness being so thrilled by the simple things that he’d do, the minute things he might say and how his touch could bring instant safety.  There aren’t hands in the world warmer than his.  And there isn’t facial hair in the world that keeps me as entertained as his does.  It’s funny because he can’t exactly sing, but I love it most when he does.  The times I’ve felt the strongest are when I’ve tried my best to keep him up.  Nevertheless, have I ever felt so protected!  I’ve never had such great conversations as I’ve had with him.  Never stretched my imagination as far as I have with him.  I’ve never been so open to life, love, learning and truth (correction).  I’ve never admired somebody this close before.  Never felt so sure as I do now.

Never been this mad. This madness is so exhilarating one might easily mistake it for nonsensibility.  But it is very sensible to be in love.  In a world where we are taught to love ourselves, the only way to rebel against such flawed systems is to love another.

They say I’m young.  They say I’ll learn about how hard it can be committing life with somebody else.  That once we’re bound by covenant and surname that everything unglorious rears it’s head.  Well, mind the inaccurate quoting, but it seems very much inferred. And maybe they’re right.  Maybe my 30, 40 or 50 year old self will read this again and laugh at my 23 year old naivety.  But then again, maybe not.  Maybe my 60 year old self will read this, smirk and whisper “that was when our love was small”.

This is us.  This is madness.

engagement is amazing

we leave tomorrow

Posted in how was your day? by enisea on 03/03/2013

for the land of American dreams.

hallelujah

Posted in 52 pickup, how was your day? by enisea on 16/02/2013

Sometimes there is just too much to be discontent with.  The world is incomplete and you find yourself critiquing the imperfect parts of yourself.  Nothing seems perfect… because you won’t let yourself believe it.  Too long have you been naive about how wonderful and promising life was meant to be for you, but one is inclined to reconsider thoughts of ridiculous anti-gravity when you think you’re the only one with them. But you’re not.

In those slumps, there is nothing useful to think but “Hallelujah”.  And nothing more beneficial to do than thank God for every time before that your dreams escaped your overprotective suppression – because we feared disappointment.

Thank you God that there are so many more dreamers in the world – not disillusioned by hope deferred.  Thank you that children everywhere in the world laugh uncontrollably.  That trees worldwide still supply sufficient oxygen for over 7 billion people and even more animals.  Thank you that there are incredible people in my life who remain in my life, especially when I take most of them for granted. Thank you that you think that I’m beautiful. Thank you that the opportunities to love, hope and smile never cease.  Thank you for every flavour of icecream that exists.  Thank you for every creatively clean comedian.  Thank you for sunshine, thunder and applauses.  Thank you that I am twenty three, healthy and highly favoured.  Thank you that these dreams will never sleep, never stop growing and never stop challenging me to think bigger. Thank you that when the sorrows last for a night, that joy comes in the morning.

Hallelujah.

Posted in handfuls of ambition, heroes of mine by enisea on 23/01/2013

Dear lovers of music (who doesn’t like music?!),

My very talented, graphic, artistic, web-designer of a boyfriend put this brilliant site together.  This is the latest business that he and a good friend began last year and relaunched this year.  Trust me, I’m very proud of my high-achieving boyfriend and his best boyfriend . Check it out, and treat yourself to a unit of the biggest names in-ear monitoring has ever known!  None of this chunky Beats by Dre/Bieber headgear, this stuff is what the real tech heads are using.  And I’m not at all biased, just very convinced.

Bringing the big names down under!

Acustoms

what move shall i make?

Posted in epiphany tiffany, handfuls of ambition by enisea on 16/01/2013

There was something very wrong with my current understanding of this, because I wasn’t on time – wasn’t in time.

This growing frustration, it had been for a while – for as long as I knew.

Then entered a peculiar thought. Casual but with undeniable presence. This thought was new, and she looked coolly as though she knew what she wanted and had never cared what a second thought might have thunked. She saw me in my inglorious dance, it was hard not to.  In a place where everyone else looked able to move to the steady beat, I wasn’t one to compliment the multitude.  This one beat seemed to have me tripping and smiling, but for the most part, disappointed – I yearned to know it and I loathed it for humiliating me.  I hadn’t successfully kept up with a steady/consistent beat in any session I’d ever participated in.  But I was an optimist! An idealist, a dreamer and a hopeful; and so had come to know Denial well enough to know that it wasn’t a thought I’d fancy befriending. Don’t get me wrong, I had improved my steps much since the last try. I had gradually quickened my feet and this fed me slivers of satisfaction.  Yet my failure to keep up for the most part with the beat, with at least one of life’s simple beats  – an entire session of life’s different genres – made it fantasy and fairytale.  That was my happy ending.  That was the one thing I couldn’t do. I couldn’t keep up with life – not well enough to be considered a good dancer.  Heaving in breaths, sometimes utterly exhausted, disheartened, still I would try and try… stepping out of time, being late and leaving a fellow dancer in a lurch. Oh the number of others I had ruined timing for or disappointed and such… was a sad number.  I had helped to get some disheartened others back into the dance, and that was beautiful to be a part of… but I just wanted to be able to dance right – for once in my life.

I digress. This other thought, she walked slower than the others but had covered more ground than they had over the last sixteen beats and interrupted my frustrations with her straight face. “You’re not a beat person” she said frankly, to which I merely held gaze in reply.  There was nothing for me to say – I couldn’t defend myself and found no wit to counter this hard statement.  I blinked, waiting for another attempt at reciprocal conversation.  Then it came, the words fell like rain on the dry cracks on my exhausted understanding. “Have you tried rhythm?”

Have I tried rhythm?

It made sense, all this time I felt like clumsy fingers over traditional structures, slipping here and there to a poor excuse for sight reading.  I had done something right to bluff my way through each new part of life, “passing” despite what failure had always anchored me in inadequacy.

But it wasn’t me. It wasn’t the point. The point wasn’t moving regimentally to a common beat, it was finding freedom. It was being free to choose which of the many rhythms within the welling orchestra of life’s colours, one decided to dance to. For there were many layers of rhythm.  Rhythm was a brilliance of colour that gave way to different rhythms here and there, coming together and pulling apart, moving in and out of the beat.  The heart beat.

The terror entered only when an insecure someone or other would try to take the freedom. In either trying to stop others dancing or insisting that everyone dance the same way – that was when the floor was no longer a safe place.  A few, by some twisted idea, even tried to eliminate the music altogether – which could not be done.  Some would laugh at others, and others still thought their steps were more sophisticated and developed than that of others.  The dictatorship of propagating one particular dance – that was/is the greatest tragedy, as it made the majority contagious of insecurity.  But there was not merely one rhythm or one dance. There were many.  And not one was above the other.

Not on this floor.

Where there are no fools, where there are none to judge another.  The influential ones being the ones who inspire others to be braver, the ones whose dance is so uncontained, so unconforming but absolutely admirable!  Theirs was so to not overshadow but unto God, dancers who dance upon injustice. Unashamed. Children who would not dance for popularity, or for reward, but who would dance because of their love for it. Where every participant is a creator.  Where the game is to make as many people smile or laugh or try something new as possible. Where there is no such thing as too far gone.  Where nobody ever confuses their dance with that of another.  Where the embarrassed and hurt are not pressured but given the time they need to gain confidence and little by little, learn to move again, freely.

A great grace is that we all hear different rhythms.  The greatest grace being that we all get to dance with Love.  We just get to decide whether we want to or not.  And you really ought to tell them, the others, just how beautiful their dances are and how much their movement impresses you.  Because lately, all we’ve been hearing is how everyone else is doing it wrong.  Tragedy, that.

Dance freely and love others.

Move it.

an afternoon with caesar

Posted in incr-edibles by enisea on 16/01/2013

we came, we saw, and we conquered

Mother was so impressed with yesterday’s lunch with Amelia that I was commissioned to recreate it for dinner.

Yes, we bent the rules a little and added mushrooms…

mushrooms should have been part of the original recipe.

half everything, full smile.

Posted in how was your day? by enisea on 14/01/2013

She found herself surrounded in half of everything.  As though every catergory had been opened and the contents had been positioned strategically around the living quarters of her mind.  She was halfway through four books and hardly remembered nor cared about them.  She considered starting another, and did – wishing silently that she was the kind who could look at a page for 5 seconds and have read it.  She wanted to be so much wiser… and an inch taller. One unwrapped present, two undelivered cards and one empty card waiting to be written (of whose addresses she couldn’t remember) sat within arms reach, annoying her.  There were also photos that didn’t fit in photo albums and plain white t-shirts that hadn’t yet been tie-dyed.  A sock she had halfway sown into a zebra…a year or two ago, sat forlorn and dusty, with limbs yet to be attached.  Bits and pieces all over her life seemed to reiterate that unfinished business was fashionable here.

She just wanted things to be done: her room cleaned, gifts delivered, book written, everything known and everything in its right place – as though maybe the world could be perfect.

Smirking at her own nerve to have so much want of everything, she couldn’t help feeling ridiculously content.

finding everything

Posted in handfuls of ambition, thought spills by enisea on 02/01/2013

I didn’t mean to find it. It was smaller than anyone else would’ve thought, especially because I happened to find everything in it.  When you happen upon a hole, few people look in it, because the darkness usually satisfies the assumption of most – that it is empty.  Isn’t that what a hole is – by definition? Space missing, emptiness, the break in a continual surface, etc, etc.

Ah ha! And that is why this hole was brilliant.  Because how often do you come across a hole with everything in it?  It wore the usual unsuspecting “nothingness” about it, just like the others, but it wasn’t. It was different.  It was different this time.  And I won’t be able to tell you where it is, because knowing the greediness of humanity, if I told you where to find it, somebody might try to make the hole bigger (and destroy some of the everything, making it only something more than nothing).  Or somebody else might try to take it away and keep it for themselves. I mean, I have nothing against sharing everything, I just get a little sad when those with little imagination have no radar of their own and fade into the lack-lustre world they surround themselves in.  Where gravity is “rational thinking”, “common sense”, “realism”, “cold hard brick, dirt and stone”; and where the rest of their kind become obstacles.  The blue, green or purple in their eyes leaking colourful perspective, and their stares, merely gray – excited only by prospects of having everything (the wrong way).  They are the poorest of our kind.

But I’ve got a constant watch on that hole with everything in it.  Because I’m looking for people.  Only people with enough curiosity and wonder will survive well in the hardest places.  Only those who look into what looks little or “nothing” and who can find everything worth smiling about.  Because  I’m looking for a kind of people, a kind people.  I’m looking for the richest people in the world – who eyes are as big as their hearts, whose imagination has to be folded 7 times to fit in their bodies.  I’m looking for others out there who will find everything with me, and then teach somebody and somebody else how to find everything too.  Starting in the simplest places, like a hole in a fence, or the smile on a face, in a wink or waterhole, or a delayed train (which was only late because it had to first travel to a demanding child’s imagination before arriving at Glen Waverley, Melbourne).

Open you’re eyes  – there is everything for you.

“help my unbelief”

Posted in epiphany tiffany by enisea on 12/12/2012

What if we had everything that we truly wanted?  And the biggest deception was simply believing we didn’t/couldn’t/wouldn’t.

m’deer, it’s December already!

Posted in incr-edibles by enisea on 02/12/2012

m'deer

new love.

Posted in heroes of mine, pin the tail on the love, the poet-tree by enisea on 26/11/2012

I have found her.

I have never before found a celebrity or somebody of a particularly influential position who I’ve felt I most relate to and am inspired by… until now.  I clicked on one beautiful video, and she captivated me, not only that, but she soon had me addicted to her: her presentation, to the messages and the honesty, to the nervousness and love of poetry!  I couldn’t seem to watch her videos fast enough and my eyes were starry as I adored her.  This is probably the closest I’ve ever come to saying “she doesn’t, but she does know me – and I don’t but I do want to be just like her”.  Haha – allow me to bombard you with a few of her poetries and stories – she’s beautiful – and I know you’ll agree – and you’ll probably tell me you knew all about her and I’m the last person to jump on her brilliant bandwagon – but I’m so excited about finding her!

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Sarah Kay:

mm…

Posted in 52 pickup, heroes of mine, how was your day? by enisea on 26/11/2012

Currently, life is a corridor.  I’ve never felt this sure about being unsure in my life.  There exists a strange contentment about smiling mildly and not exactly knowing what comes next. Because I seemed to have known what I supposedly wanted to do before I knew what I really wanted.  Now I’m learning about what I want, and what’s worth wanting… and I’m wondering what to do about it.

The last three hours have seemed to evade me, ever since I told time that it wouldn’t rule me. So, as though to provoke me to panic, it flew past and still I am here, defying it… I think.  What if I told you time was brittle?  That if you wanted, you could make sure you always had enough of it by defying the conventions of understanding it.  Sort of like always having enough money because you work, get paid, and spend your money well, but never looking at your bank balance and therefore never wondering if you could have more – because you don’t need more, you’ve just heard that if you had more you could do more with it – which is true and not true at the same time. Because if you had more money, you mightn’t do more with it than living a good life, because a good life is more than having as much money as you want.  There are many, aren’t there, who live poorer lives because they’ve overvalued the quantity and undervalued their quality.

Haha, yes – really simple thoughts today. I feel like a 1990 computer operating system – as though my thoughts really couldn’t process any faster than primitive and very young understandings.  I think today I’ve been repulsed by complexity and I desire simplicity.  Why isn’t life as simple as having enough and loving abundantly? Haha, what if it is that simple and we’ve all been too stupid to realise that?  What if my life isn’t about setting me up and having what I want?

I know a woman who’s life is not hers.  She has no life other than her four recent foster children.  She struggles and she struggles, but boy does she love! She is not perfect, and she probably feels rather lonely and/or overwhelmed frequently.  She has no particular talents to build her pride up against, and you wouldn’t find her interested in anything regarding exterior beauty and she is bald.  But she loves. She is tired and still, she loves.  Oh, when she talks about her children – there is a little frustration, there is the pain that she feels for them, but there is so much love.  I don’t know another, to be very honest with you, who has loved at such a capacity as her – that I know of, personally.  Her life has translated into making the lives of four children whom she did not birth, into beautiful lives.   And somehow, that humility of hers scares me – because it seems hard, really hard.  I sort of care about myself- probably more than I should.

To pray for others more than myself.  To care about others more than myself.  To cheer for their successes rather than promote my own.  To protect others as much as I protect myself.  To love as love is defined.

Haha, I wonder, when our lives here are finishing, if the only question we will be asked is “So, in your 87 years of life, did you love properly?”

What if the greatest success of life was ensuring that you helped as many as you could ‘love properly’. Not: build your dream home, having 2.4 children, own 2 cars, pay off your mortgage, own every apple product, and have enough to pay for your children’s education.

Haha, I know, mid-midlife crisis. I won’t lie, the idea of severing myself from electronic technology and trekking through a foreign wilderness sounds rather appealing right now.

This whole: I DON’T UNDERSTAND MY LIFE and WHAT’S LOVE GOT TO DO (got to do with it?) has hazed my morning.

Yes, I feel very much like the only way to justify life today would be to be crazy: shout, sing, smile like a maniac, kiss my family, celebrate life and help an old lady to cross the road… I really shouldn’t let myself blog on these sorts of mornings – it makes my insanity rather public, though it’s strangely pleasurable not being cool, calm and well written.

whose fault is it that we have teenagers?

Posted in how was your day?, thought spills by enisea on 14/11/2012

Ok, so you see the occasional article on facebook. Here’s one that made me smirk.  Sure, there are elements of truth in here, there are elements of urgency, and there are elements of wisdom – meanwhile there is also frustration, a neglect of responsibility on community/parent responsibility… and a sadness that people will forever argue over the menial technicalities when we all actually agree with wanting the world to be a better place.

Our teenagers are our offspring (ok, so I don’t have children, you get my drift).  They are the product of our community!  They weren’t unwilling dropped from another planet – if they learnt apathy/disrespect/self-pity/laziness, where do you think they learnt that from?

And if the community didn’t raise these children, who has, and why did we let them?

I’m not at all disqualifying everything the article said – I agree! I’m just wondering how many young people are able to say their parents/community are the first examples they have of responsible people who are giving their time, energy and talent so that no one will be at war, in sickness or lonely again.

How could our generation, one day, be the parents to showcase that?