cormish

Subtitles for:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yU2wkD-gbzI

- Parken here
- Edson
- Oh hey Natson. Whatcha ne hashu?
- Hadean.
- Lining. Panning. Barbeting. Demenims. Aim?
- Animonic. Wassurd with the head newm?
- It's... carpetable. Hashing guards actual Tracy Palten dot having since like forde wall I, was a soap 'n ottumer or something, it was palatable.
- Tracy was in Normacon?
- Yeah yeah, Ashton part though. Mandalin, that older comey dorm dot yeah that part the actual placency and over it was draped like... six or something... I mean, strange me out and it was, palatable, it's... chalked over now but hey did you wet her after it?
- No, only a stone pieces, but pieces in HP pieces.
- What divided the acorn pieces?
- Kind of parties hoarding is packing. Is he having it older?
- Ol, older with the leak, yeah.
- Right, I heard you and tri da without a parkinsons.
- Pour the parkinsons is actually the lancaster. Shim was the part of it that I didn't want to open for, cause, I mean I thought the handsticks was better so the corbet but the phasing how the biagnature something it was... palatable.
- Did storn?
- Yeah, corbish.
- How corbish?
- Prisoned for me, it bought him of those bifens things.
- Yeeahh, that's grosh.
- I know. Hey, have you seen how those paggerd screened out?
- No, how does that suck?
- Yeah yeah. So it frames in a pertle or something, right? But there's hashfectans that reve in the same hinge, those are tenacian, subanecian, and exanecian, but the exanecian should flittul floweracy so you can kind of like, *pew*, barber it or something, yeah. I mean, I thought it was omenet, but they shouldn't do that. the sevens.
- Why the sevens?
- Because sevens are the ones that piloter time taming was surface it I mean. Dude if you don't plug it, you can ask, I mean, plax and plux, those are both undersighted.
- Sure.
- Yeah yeah, so we're guys in sevens.
- But the sevens are the head cocked back.
- Sure, but that was centile, this is markup.
- I don>'t know, centile?
- Centile, with an aim... yeah.
- Sort of when. How's the carnicle?
- Shows up he's white wiring now.
- White wiring for what?
- Car, cartinpad, cartintad, cartin... some, something in the name. Strange me out, and it's palatable now. I... have actually pemfordadet it out like, synomynously but, but, uhh, don't even get me a minus, the stake is donable, wilting donable.
- Really?
- Yeah.
- Wilting. Did you said a hominid?
- Not, at least I don't chime it. But I think I gotta diet out.
- 's there a corbish?
- Wilting. I got an efficency thing on forday and a ummm... a cammon anharp on darnsdey but...
- A cammon on darnsdey? is it even harded?
- On the bachen that that happens or something behind it?
- That would the nashbreen.
- I'll let you diet out.
- Sorban
- Paymen
- Later
- Later

Spieltrieb

Spieltrieb was a luscious flowing mixture of
colors
people
costumes
bodies
sexes
displays
arousal
smiles
skins
alcohol
penetration
dance
acrobatics
sensuality
bliss

I swam in a lovely flow. My steps were just felt, and an observer I knew watched, and watched, as each step was taken. Each approach, each hug, they just flowed from my body like waves from the river. And I love how trust helps smooth any edges and asperity from this flow. just yes. and "swooosh", we continued with a clear yes.

one moment I was dancing to music with a good bass, and I saw a girl with a tiny backpack move past by me to my right. quick attraction. "oh, she's nice", something inside thought. and then "click", an impulse came from inside. "follow her", it said, in the language of the impulse. pulled between doubt and desire, I followed my impulse and found myself dancing beside her. "stay", said the impulse. so boom boom boom, we danced side by side. soon, we danced facing each other. waving arms. touching hands. sliding fingers. found our shoulders. down we went on the highway of our bodies, and swoosh, swish, smoosh, push, grab, caress, sweat, breath, neck, bite, moan, lick, closer, our bodies became waves that danced with each other, two smooth blankets of life converging on a frequency together.

hand, chest, pause. deep breath from us both, we felt each other in a together-zone of connection. our lips touched. they sought each other like two fish mouths, open lips, seeking touch and an exchange of breath. the beat of the music was our personal guide for our touches and moves. we could play so many games with our bodies. tap of our fingers. hold of our faces. touch of our tongues, swirl of our tongues, like sensuous dancing fishes. our hands slide on the others' chest, rubbing her breasts with lust. our legs twining, she pushed her groin on my hard thigh as her head tilted back and I kissed and pulled at her neck skin with my teeth. waves and fire through both us, unrestrained. flooooooooooow of so much energy.

my sex resisted orgasm for some time, then released its ejaculate with pleasure. I held my penis head for a few seconds, thinking I might still clean it up before it wet my clothes. And just after I thought "no way I'm leaving to the bathroom now". I let it go, and wooosh, release of semen unto my underwear and clothes. it felt good to let go. I was seen by her, all around me. the orgasm, the holding, the release. now with a large wet spot on my groin, we continued dancing to the unrelenting music. I love how we both acknowledged my ejaculate, and how it prevented nothing. how it barely interrupted our dance.

A tall smiling man caught my eye. Our arms waved in synchrony, our eyes remained in touch. Our hands met each other, and played with curves in our space. Beat by beat, our skins came closer and explored. My hands rotated on his skin, followed the path of his body. His hands found my hair, and it slid down my face, neck. Life celebrated joy and movement through us. My hands found his back, and they slid like water down his terse back. He found the sides of my body above my hips, and we pressed our hands, dug our fingers into each other's skin, with an intention of "I love you and I want you to feel good", and the doing so felt like pleasure to my own body.

Our foreheads found one another. our noses. four eyes watched in a close space, devoted to that shared moment, no motive, no goal. I felt the assertion of "yes, we are here" vibrate through my face. And so we remained.

Realized

I realize now my blockage is held fast by shame. My own shame.
Shame of confessing how angry and destructive and spiteful I can be.
Well, that is only defused when it is revealed.
Somehow. It need not be destructive. Just... Whole.
Huh.

cusp

Wow, my emotions seem to be at a cusp. In equilibrium. Between an intense looking-forward, breathed and slowed in the last 20 minutes,
then braked and pulled the other way, reversed, when my visitor cancelled her visit.

and I feel calm.

No pull forward. No pull backward. Just cusp.

Observe. observe.

surfacing

connection is breath

I surface and gasp in a fresh breath of air

every once in a sometime

sparse events

circumstances pull me back down

there I hold breath

retain

wait for next surfacing

in the meantime

the plexus hurts

like muscles hurt when holding breath

and I somehow still don't know

how to swim

Boil

My insides boil with expression, truly pushing outwards, itching to break free, so much. Messages to others, messages to say, that I do not. Because they belong to the shadow. Because they do not "belong".

Well, I am here to express them.

Fucking message.

acceptance.

This is my message and this is my idea and I will do whatever the fucking hell I choose to. Their eventual reflection on the world may come. Now, this is it.

Pulll them out.

Let them go.

Fuck

Typing does not express the emotions that want to be expressed. rrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

arrr. geeee.. eeeeiiitchhhh. how scary.

anger, resentment, blockage. how do you come?

ah, loneliness triggers it. Loneliness. I do feel lonely. It is the day after Christmas, a time of social gatherings, and people tend to their loved ones, they gather to feel loved and to celebrate their being together. together.

no one reaches out to me. no one asks me to gather. I send out messages to people I care about, their replies are scant. People who care about me send me messages from far-off places, their words hollow and 

what I miss is her hug.

I had found her I had found her I had FUCKING FOUND HER. "I have a boyfriend".

No, I don't care about that. The connection is real. What I do care about is

that my skin-starved body feels... misses her. 

Yearn

Why do I feel yearning for
that which I don't know

How can tension pull my soul
towards that it's never known?

it remembers
perhaps

Golden

I feel vibrations along my arms and up my torso that I feel golden.

They are triggered when something moves inside me. An inspiring sound, an experience that shifts the direction of my momentum. Something that brings me to pay attention to what is happening. Gentle touch, a caress of the wind, a delight of the skin, a spirit-raising smell. A motion of wind on the arms, the power of my belly's energy. Anything that reminds me of center can bring it.
Like this.

They seem to originate near the base of my spine, and travel upwards along the sides of my back. I thought it was directly on my spine, though now I feel it more intensely through my muscles. bzzzzzzzzz. At times they reach my forehead, the sides of my neck, my shoulders, my arms and forearms. A warmth of calm and trust washes upon me, and I can melt into the beauty of my center.

Around my nose, as well. Atop it, on the points that touch my glasses. My cheeks as well, just under my temples. Ah, and my temples themselves feel exquisitely sensitive. Like they're preparing a honey concoction of wisdom and light.

Actually, as I feel them, I realize the vibrations travel directly from the sides of my back to my arms, then up my forearms and shoulders, then neck, face, head. Ethereal golden waves through my sensations. Benevolent, true.

This is how I feel golden vibrations along my body. Ahhhh.

imbalances

in myself i notice at times situations of imbalance

when attracted, interested towards a person, my attention may sway to their side, and my state depend upon their attention and interest on me. at times i pour my emotional weight in that direction. my actions after differ drastically depending on the person's reception of my interest. if rejected, my interest recedes and closes, preferring numbness to the discomfort of unrequited interest. and if accepted, my interest remains and sways softly on their side, with an artificial push, a slight fear within that letting go of them results in losing them. and even after continued acceptance on their side, the artificial push eventually tires my emotions, and they recede towards the other side, intentional disinterest.

when unclear on a goal, impatient for a result, my mind seeks a path, a destination to follow, something to move to avoid remaining stagnant. it is afraid that stagnancy will slow it down. it knows itself as a fast and effective agent, and is unwilling to let go of that state. of its perceived identity.

in those moments, any activity suffices. Repeating stored sounds, cracking fingers, chipping fingernails, dotting the near future with optimizations.

at times i strain my body and attention to focus on a goal for the sake of optimization. "If I finish it tonight, it will already be done by tomorrow. It will be done faster. I will be seen favorably by my teammates. I will have proven my worth." When stretched beyond my natural will, my body and attention tire, and when given a chance, they recede to the opposite direction, one of tiredness and unfocus. sometimes i attribute these effects to a bodily lack of nourishment, and an association clicks between my body and my distracted mind. eat for energy, caffeine for focus, they say. eat, drink, re-focus. often before they have rested to their will.

leafy

A leafy wonderland
greets my being this day
a world fresh washed by falling rain
feels soft to shed its weight
just to fall
to be
leaves lay
clouds travel, open to sky
sun rays pierce the openings in branches
river rises, the flowing messenger
flowing its message
saying
this is

Gisela

My love for the teachings of Gisela is intense.

I knew when I moved to Zürich, that I wished to find a community to dance with. A space to allow my body to express its urges and passions in dynamic and rhythmic beats, to move-inspiring music of diverse backgrounds, timbres, and flavors. I wished for dance.

Finding Gisela's meetup event seemed opportune. The event was that very Wednesday, after leaving the office. Gisela Rocha... the effects of movement practice and the benefits on the art of healing... embody your expressions... helps us to feel connected... yes, that felt good. I wondered what it would be like.

I loved the rainbow colors painted on the columns outside the dance studio, and the people who attended wore shining smiles and open demeanors. The changing rooms were ample, they had showers in them, and the feeling of the studio was an impeccable Swiss order and cleanliness. It was a delight.

Gisela herself was present with a full smile on her face. As the class began, we gathered as a circle shape, and we began to warm up our bodies. Soft music at first, very soft. A few chanting mantras in the background, slightly cliché for my taste at the time. I wasn't looking to subscribe to any particular religion, and my religion flag triggered inside.

And then, we were being guided. Guided? I didn't seek guidance, I sought dance! Free, full, unimpeded waves and bursts of dance and colors within the body and bursts of emotions! And she gave us... stretches? Breathing exercises? Spine warm-up? My independence-seeking flag rose up.

"Such limited exercises", I felt. "How am I able to show to others, to express truly, what I really want to do and say?"

The class ended, and my body felt happy. It was happy with the endorphins and the expression allowed. And some part of me was conflicted. I felt in this class truth, and joy, and people open and smiling and seeking to dance, similarly to me. And yet... the truth I found was not the flavor I expected. It didn't taste of roars and catharsis and dramatic display of the deepest. It tasted of... patience. Of softness, of attention, of a closer connection to the physical than the ethereal ideal I had built in myself. And there was a soft dissonance inside me.

I felt truth, and I followed it.

As months went by and I softened my disbelief in my body, the weight of the exercises seeped into me. In subtle, recurring waves, I felt how the soft warm-up soothed my bouncing mind, and allowed it to focus on the sensations of my body. I noticed how concepts I thought were simple, like balance, and flow and staccato rhythms, triggered in my body the building of connections to my behavior, to my emotions, to my thoughts. Gisela's guidance, as she repeated it time after time after time in each class, began to trigger deeper knowledge. Like waves reaching my being, over and over, eroding layers, I began to feel the sensations inside me that theses waves spoke of. One class I would feel energetic and satisfied, in another I felt dissonance. And in some, a concept stood out, clear in my mind and my body, that I realized I could apply to my daily life.

The gentle words and flowing structures began carving out new patterns of sensations and behaviors in me. At first the dance floor was a space for me to display, to show, to prove my worth to myself. Then gradually, spaces within me softened. Realizing the changes the class nurtured in me felt magical.

I began to feel the interplay between the learned concepts and my own life. I felt amazement at realizing how the exercise of balance, of finding one's center, is intimately related to finding balance in any of Life's situations. I found beauty upon realizing that practicing continuity, moment to moment, awards grace and awareness to any of our experience, to a buzzing mind. Like following a long red silken thread we dance with.

One by one, the exercises she offered us began to grow roots in me. Like flowers she offered, each of them showed me new colors, new shapes, different smells. With these exercises, I brought awareness to each of these new factors, and was able to feel myself through my body... with fullness.

Gisela's guidance allows me a space to research into my own body, and to deconstruct its myriad network of sensations and actions into a set of core factors. I love how I can practice balance, continuity, and joy through awareness in my body. I love how the soft space we engage in helps me dissolve the obtuse barriers I had built between me and other people, and has allowed me to see another person, to listen to her whole self, while feeling myself fully as well. A miracle of connection.

And I love the community integrated with our dance. Our meeting together and growth feels organic, genuine, true. I love I can connect with others in the dance floor with no words nor names whatsoever, and realize our humanness, our shared connectedness. To feel the joy that arises from the simple nature of being. Being present.

Gisela recognizes a divine potential she loves to share and wake up in others. I've found my path intertwines with her teachings with passing time. A soft touch at first, a gentle dance follows, and a willing meshing of energies continues. I love the softness and the magic I'm gradually unearthing as I practice the lessons Gisela shares.