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Hello reader or fellow blogger, WELCOME! I am happy to see you on my blog: Exploring & Examining Life. This is a blog with philosophical and poetic posts. Join me on my journey of contemplation and self-discovery.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

My Experience with the Medicine Man


The driver Vanderlei (this is a first name here) and I drive up to a home 12 km outside the city of Aimorés. It’s the very well known and well-respected Bryce: the medicine man.

First I see a man in very dirty clothes, and I wonder if this is “our guy.” Earlier this week I heard he had given the advice to put some substance on my ankle and then use an iron. Alright, so I’m a tad bit nervous, just a tad. But I trust this community and all the people that recommend him without a doubt. We get out of the car and Vanderlei walks up to the man; therefore, I do too and shake his hand. Okay, this is Bryce. But eh, either he has a lot of calluses on his hand, or chunks of dirt.


We have to wait a little bit because Bryce is feeding their animals. A bucket passes me by with a strange colored mixture of things, probably corn and milk, etc. but it looks like throw-up. The pig is happy though. I see various chickens, a dog sun bathing, and two skitter cats that look at me like “what the hell woman.” They’re a bit skinny. It smells like animals, but it doesn’t bother me. I grew up with chickens, horses, and goats. Love ‘m J At the front there’s a horse on a rope, tied to the tree, and she’s “hooked up” to the carriage. Definitely a working horse. I have no idea what kind of work these people normally do… Hey, there’s his wife, she’s very clean. Oh my, why is that the first thing I notice. I guess I’ve lived in the US long enough to having become very accustomed to all the sterile all the time and everywhere.

I just hope that I’m getting a clean treatment… But I don’t even know what this treatment will entail. Oh my, a medicine man, an iron, and now: there’s the cat. He/she just caught a mouse and lays it in front of him/her. We had cats growing up, but they would catch ‘m, kill ‘m, and then leave ‘m alone. It’d be a present for us, meaning: I love you. Naaaah buddy, not this one. The cat starts chewing on it. And eating it. There’s blood. And he looks at me, again with that look “what the hell do you want woman. This is my mouse! Leave me alone.” Okay okay, but in the meantime I’m taking some pictures of ya, please proceed devouring your bloody mouse, Mr. Cat.


Still slightly nervous, but so glad that Vanderlei is here, and even happier that my level of Portuguese is so that I understand the conversations. Makes me feel less estranged. Graças a Deus! And then, Bryce is ready. We are escorted to the veranda. His wife invites me to sit on a bench. Then Bryce walks over and he holds paperwork, two metals sticks (yikes!), and a book. He invites us to prayer. There I stand with three sweet Brazilians. I realize this is the beginning of my consultation session. They’re praying to God for the consultation to go well. I’m just hoping I’m not going to get burned by an iron. But, this is a very special moment though.

After prayer, Bryce’s wife rubs his hands, like an energy massage. He then asks me to stand in front of him. It’s kind of an interesting picture (I wanted to take one so badly, but wanted to respect the situation and just remember so that I could write about it). Per illustration: Vanderlei sits very relaxed on the edge of the porch (he’s gone through this before), I stand on the veranda as I smell the animals and see the horse tied to the tree. Bryce stands before me with his right hand in his wife’s hands behind him whom continues the energy massage. Then he pulls out the metal stick… For a second, I kid you not, I think that he’s going to pierce my chest. But then, he touches my body in different places, and I’m thinking that’s how the energy is transferred, so he can “read” what’s “wrong” with me energetically. I look to the book and it says: “bio-energetico.” (Remember remember remember that word, Lieneke, is what I’m thinking, so I can look it up.) Here’s the definition: “bio-energetics is the study of the flow and the transformations of energy that occur in living organisms.”

He opens the book and there are different segments that I have to put my left hand on, and sometimes just my index finger. Through the energy he’s testing which physical ailments I have. Well, I came to solve my ankle problem. But knowing that everything happens for a reason, I’m definitely curious to find out what he experiences. Bryce asks me, so you have headaches? Eh yeah, every day, especially when I get up. He writes down notes. Then he tells me, you have little gall stones, ten of ‘m. He writes again. Then he leaves. The wife asks me to sit.

As I sit there, I see the mountains and the hills, the red dirt, a car coming by, Vanderlei still sitting as relaxed as ever, and the wife still standing. I look to my diagonal right and see that the horse has a huge erection. Oh my god, it goes up and down… Nobody cares.

Bryce returns with paper bags that contain dried leaves. He takes a leave of each bag. We go bag to our “assembly line” of three and Bryce asks to open my left hand, and to close it. I guess he needs to test if this is the right combination of leaves for me to heal me from my gallstones. He writes again.

I ask him also about my back pain and ankle and if he found out anything. I asks me to take a step down the veranda (he’s kind of short), and to put my arms around my back. He grabs my hands and pops my back. Regarding the ankle, I need to wrap it in clay, so that the clay can reduce the liquid in the ligaments. Also, to reduce my head aches, I need to mix the clay and massage my hair with it and put it on top of my head. I need to use the clay for five days, for two hours each day. And so I did, I had clay on my head today, for two hours. 


Tuesday, October 9, 2012

SPOKEN WORD by a Control Freak


When I’m alone
I think
I breathe
I think
I feel
I love
I think
I judge
            Myself
            Others
            My partner

When I’m alone
I suffocate
I realize
            All the things I could do better
I judge
            Myself
I think
            About all the things that could be better

Wait a minute
I thought I was a positive person
I’m far more negative than I thought….
Aah shit, this makes me sad.
Am I one of those people that say bunches of shit, that ring really true and all, and sound very spiritual, but I allow myself not to live by those rules? But everyone else should? Okay, I’ve also learned about myself that I have the tendency to beat myself up over the head when I’m wrong. wrong wrong wrong

It’s time
            Time to practice what I preach
If I walk in forgiveness
            I truly forgive
If I walk in love
            I truly love unconditionally
If I live patiently
            I know how to wait
If I am willing
If I am able
If I am what I think I am
            I am Love
But really
            I’m a Control Freak
The two don’t go together
            Let go
            Release
            Let Be
            Embrace

Realization is 90% of the work, and it’s always proven true to me. When I realize something about myself, how I function, what I do, etc. then I can make a change. In this case: embracing imperfection.

Now I realize I’m by far not always as positive as I think I am.
Now I realize I’m a shitty partner sometimes.
Now I realize I’m not perfect.

Can I release the thoughts of having to be perfect all the time? I’m NOT. Listen Lieneke, you’re not. But you do have a huge heart, you want to help every dog you see on the street, you cry seeing your dancer perform a solo because you know she lives in a dangerous drug ridden favela, and you do what you can to bring light to her life. You give them a gift. The gift of dancing. You’re not a bad person, you’re just not perfect. And that’s okay. Be imperfectly perfect. Or perfectly imperfect. It is alright.

You Love Him.
He Loves You.

Open the door to move the shit out
And keep that door open to allow the beauty of life in



Letter From A Complicated Simplistic Romantic


As far as I can see…
There’s you
You
You
You
Vision reaches
There’s you
Hey
And there’s me too

Now there’s you and me
Me and you
And we’re together
Forever

The end.

Halfway Project, Time to Meet "The Cast"

Helloooo, time flies with this project. We're already half way. I figured it'd be time to meet "the cast." Enjoy the vlog: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sG9fEe1DJXg


Monday, September 24, 2012

Lieneke Mous, Vlog #3

The first week of classes are complete. And so is Vlog #3!

Interested to see and hear what we did? Here's the YouTube link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qufBDYnuGMQ&feature=youtu.be


Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Boom! Vlog Numero 2!

And heeeeeere's Vlog #2, enjoy! (If you can't stand politics, skip the first half :-))
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QgKpM3QsRP8


Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Not just a blogger, now also a "vlogger"

Olaaaaa! I just released my first VLOG! aka "video blog"



See link below, and let me know what you think! (It's also for mobile viewing)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=snDHR0MntSg

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Hustle




To illustrate this story, I have used a photo taken by


A man enters the bus, carrying a huge load of neatly organized little plastic pouches of candies, cookies, and chewing gum. He walks toward the bus driver (entering from the back), gives him some money, turns around, hangs up his portable shop, and starts his speech. It entails something along the lines of that he could be stealing, killing, and doing drugs, but instead he sells candy. Then he quickly explains all the mentos flavors he has and how much they cost, and that there's something for everyone. He talks fast, almost like an auctioneer. Probably because he's not allowed to ride with us very long. 

People start waving and calling on him, and telling him what they want. Within a matter of minutes the majority of this bus has purchased something off of this guy and it soon sounds like a movie theater with all the crackling plastic pouches.

Within about three stops the bus driver is getting anxious and tells the guy several times that it's time to get off. But, he's still hustling. He needs to get everything he can out of this trip. He paid some fare after all. He does pick up shop and starts walking to the back of the bus while trying to keep his balance. People still decide to purchase so every now and then he hangs up his goods on the railing. I see the bus driver looking in the rear view mirror more and more agitated. Every now and then verbally spurring the candy salesmen that he has got to go. Finally, our hustler feels that everyone who wanted to buy bought. It's time to get off. He did good business. With lots of different colored bills (mainly bills of 2 reais), he departs. Good business for this man! Indeed, he could be killing, dealing, or stealing; instead, he's selling. 

Pfew, I almost feel out of breath with this whole spectacle. The bus driver's semi peace returns, the bus continues through the busy traffic, and I look out the window at all the pedestrians who do whatever they do, as I listen to the "fizzling" little plastic pouches while I sometimes look on my google maps tracker (which is the only thing that works w/o wifi on my iPhone) to check how far along we are by now...

Saturday, September 1, 2012

"Art Looking"

We go to a museum and we look at art... We look at something one individual created in the past, whom likely lived for creating what they did and did it with passion; with heart and soul.

Years or decades later it is available for us to view in a museum or gallery. Of course, that's what the artist wants, doesn't he/she? Yes. Artists are vein enough that they want others to see what they made even though they made it for themselves in the first place.

People view art. I am in Museu Arte de Moderna (MAM), the Modern Art Museum of Rio de Janeiro. I am visiting the exhibit about Alberto Giacometti and his wife. 
I sit down and observe. 


Photo of Giacometti and "Tall Woman," photo taken by myself in the MAM Rio

One woman first looks up at the object, and then at the tag with the description of the work. She looks the art up and down again and then passes on to the next. She comes across as if she's a real art aficionado. Perfect glasses, hair, pretty shoes, arms crossed (I have to add that it was VERY cold in the museum).  Sometimes she points at the work or the tag.

Another woman--some years older than the former--yawns and walks around a bit uninterested. She's getting her "art in," but probably won't visit anything like this in another year. She could be the former woman's mother. "This is what my daughter enjoys doing so I join her."

Another lady walks around with a searching look, she stays at a distance from most works. It's almost like she's selecting works she wants to get to know and see, and saves her energy and thoughts for those select works.

Generally people walk slowly. They do talk a lot, discussing the work, or just saying ooh and aah, yet always with a subdued voice. There's an overall mumbling in the cold, large museum space.

An older lady is with, what it seems like, her husband. They seem European. She bends to read a tag, then looks up, walks around a case and smiles at the small bronze sculptures. She finds eye contact with me and gives me a big smile as her eyes sparkle. She seems excited to be here.

An older and a younger man notice the museum walls. They're concrete and left untreated. There are marks of leaks and such. They talk about those for a minute. He mumbles and speaks fast Portuguese so I don't know exactly what he says, but his non-verbals are clear; "studying" the museum walls. Interesting, because I noticed the exact same thing right before I sat down on the black bench. I thought about the time in the development of theater and concert dance when directors and choreographers decided to strip the theater from all the theatrical elements...

A couple sits next to me on the bench and exchange little, soft kisses. One two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven... It's getting rhythmic, and, frankly, a little inappropriate. So, you're not here for the art? Then they exchange a few words while still holding hands. The conversation in Portuguese is not about the art. She complains about some woman, he listens and tells her it's okay.

Two ladies in the distance walk while engaging in conversation and using a lot of circling hand gestures to illustrate their thoughts.

The guard keeps looking in my direction. She may wonder, who is this lady? What is she doing? Hey mind your own business, I'm writing about other people looking, or not looking, at Giacometti's art.

All guards are female btw. Interesting? I don't know. Another topic probably.

Here I'm walking around and imagine the Skip Hill Art exhibit, and how people would point, whisper, illustrate, and kiss :-)

The couple gets up. Enough with the gossiping. They go take a brief look at the mini sculptures the smiling lady looked at earlier. It's called "Walking Man, Standing Woman, Head on Base"


The Walking Man by Alberto Giacometti, Jungle Magazine 

Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Identity Crisis or Multi-Cultural Identity?


Sooo I’m sitting here in Rio, with a view over the beach in Barra de Tijuca. I’m feeling the classic, “what you don’t have you want. And when you have that, you want something else.”

I’m reminiscing my life in the US (five years flew by!), and most of the time I absolutely loved it. First, 3 years of MFA Dance program, and then 2 years of full time administrative and academic work at The University of Oklahoma. I left the US with the decision to start a new adventure and leave academia for a while. Then I was in NL and I terribly missed the US. I felt like I was literally in between places, and felt like I belonged nowhere. Now I’m in Brazil and absolutely love it, yet again I miss the US. Of course it’s also because the love of my life and my friends whom are like family are there. And perhaps with my friends here, who were exchange students at OU, we talk about “Soonerland” quite often. Interestingly, I never really miss the Netherlands; perhaps because I know it’s always there waiting, and my family is always there as a “safe haven.” I do, however, look forward to building something there. Building a network, working, creating, teaching, expanding horizons. And: to be able to hop on a train and go to Paris for a weekend, for example. Sitting on a little terrace of a mini corner restaurant, sipping a cappuccino with Widad. Yes, that does sound lovely. That’s the European life.

The decision is still to—after these five months of traveling—move to Amsterdam, with the hope that my man will join me. The hope is to have three places to go to each year, live and work in Amsterdam most of the year; and then have shorter term gigs in New York City and Rio de Janeiro. Sounds like a good plan for us right?

I have to add: In this moment I just want to be reunited with my man. I wish my lover man was with me right now, sharing this view, going for a jog together, chatting about Brazilian culture together, getting on a bus together not knowing where it’ll take us, standing under Corcovado looking over Rio together. Together.

So, that… But, I’m totally digressing from what the title of this entry implies. Going through an identity crisis (and somewhat of a quarter life crisis perhaps)? (Okay, yes, the clock is ticking, only 1,5 year and I am 30; therefore, the decisions crunch is clearly felt: the where to go, what to do, get married, have children questions) Let’s talk culture in the meantime: I am Dutch, yes. And, I feel quite American. Plus, I’m very much at home in the Brazilian culture. So can’t I just be all three, even though I was born in the Netherlands? DUH, this is not a crisis. I am embracing all of this! Screw all the doom and gloom thoughts in my life; including what I think I can’t accomplish. I just told a friend yesterday, who wants her career to be dance and not engineering, that she can do anything. That nothing is impossible. That everything is possible. HERE WE GO! Make what you want possible. And find happiness in the process. The product is only the end of a new beginning.

Hoi, ik ben Nederlandse. Meu nome e Lieneke. Can I have this venti latte macchiato to go? Com chocolate por favor. Obrigada! Doei!