"Fight the power."

What power? Power-over? Domination? There are many power issues hurting the world. How should we tackle it?

Phoenix fire in the air,
Bringer of change, crucible forge.
Flames roar, burn, leave their mark:
But You remain.

Pregnancy insomnia. Can't sleep.

So, it is part of the economic recession. Many companies are in the red, doing staff cuts. Even Livejournal. Again, that sounds vaguely familiar. Deja vu. Again, rumors are rumors. And things like this shall pass. Panicking does not work.

It is easy to get pulled by the strong undercurrents, especially in these trying times. The under-toll is sometimes an subtle siren call, sometimes a compelling banshee shriek - We can stuff our ears and pretend not to hear. Or we can hear it, understand the lessons and move on.

Can't deal with it? Be firm with yourself. Start making changes in your own life. Even heard of making lemonade out of lemons?

Don't imitate me.
Be yourself.

Dear people,

Please do not tell me that competition is a way of life (Darwinism, no). Please do not turn something so enriching and meaning into your personal brag-parade.

Grow up, people, grow up.

Life is not a competition, a race to the finish. Or a trophy parade, of "I have ____ bigger/larger/more than you!". It is high-school immaturity. Leave this kind of mentality, safely where it belongs - in high school.

Don't think that you have acquired/collected a huge array of items/objects, you are more awesome/credible than the next person you are trying to "compete" against.

Grow up.

I am watching you.

Wolf growl thick in my throat, rising from my chest.

We are a selfish people. A race who thrives on the ‘take’ in the give-and-take equation. We are selfish and hypocritical, gloating over our moral rights and high grounds while flagrantly showing the same flaws we’d thought others would overlook.

Earth Hour asks for voluntary action. A choice that we consciously make. It does not force one to comply or turn it into a chore. Some people do it because their friends are doing it. Some people defy it because they want to spite the event. Earth Hour brings out the best and the worst: the people who are committed and people who are not – these people are the ones who will end up fouling the Earth and they will be the ones blaming others for their own actions.

We are selfish and we know it. Some hide it better than others. Some flaunt it and are not ashamed.

As the race we call ‘humanity’, we should be ashamed of ourselves. Apathy is entropy. By being apathetic, you add to the entropy, the decay. Of course, some will argue that entropy is part of Life. But deliberate apathy is selfish and serves no purpose, other than destroy.

Dark soil, filled with nutrients, filled with worms, filled with filth. Dark soil, moist and humid like a cunt, ideal for growing, for seething, for germinating. Dark soil, Mother Earth's skin, her outer and inner dermis, stroke her, touch her, reach deep inside her.

Dark soil, grower's joy, organic growth, ready for planting. Dark soil, dark and dark, digging deep, smelling her, tasting her, preparing her. We grow, we grow, we grow.

Compost says: More greens.

Chilli seeds say: Plant us.

The rest of the day: Work, work, work.

Oh deep dark compost, so rich with nutrients, of the Earth's goodness. A combination of things we do not want, the debris, the junk, the leftovers, the bits-and-pieces. We throw them in and they break down, become rich rich dark soil.

Layer by layer, shredded paper, bits of celery stalk, wilted leaves and crinkly-dry mint: letting nature taking over.

She dropped onto the soft sand, panther-quiet, a dark shadow slipping in the shadows of the large hangar. She hid beneath the large silver fighter planes. Birds of death, her people called them. Birds of death and lightning.

Where she lived, lightning was bad. Fire-starter. One stray spark would ignite wild fires spinning out of control. She had helped put out countless fires, her face covered with soot and singed by the angry flames.

These birds were made of metal. Metal, steel and alloys. They were not real birds, though sharing the same grace as their avian counterparts. But they did not sing, did not herald the rising of the sun. Instead, they roared like snarling beasts and gave out noxious fumes from their rear-ends.

With a wry smile on her lips, she took out the bag and opened it, calming her pounding heart. She reached in with her hand and lifted the precious cargo out. Seeds. Flowering plants. Nut-producing plants. Fruit plants.

Knowing that the riders of these silver birds were fast asleep, her confidence soared and she began her ritual, scattering the seeds with deliberate care. She started to sing, building the energy up, like a swirling cone of tangible aurora lights.


We remember who we are.
We must bring back the equilibrium.
We are stardust and we remember.

She sang, making a round circle with her sinuous dance-steps. Around the sleeping silver metal birds, around the boxes of ammunition.

We must bring back the equilibrium.
The earth must breathe.

The earth took in the seeds and the seeds, nestled in the warm sand, sent forth the roots. The energy fed their growth and saplings sprouted beneath metal wings, around grim green boxes marked with ‘DANGER’. As she danced, pulling the energy in and into the seeds, she sang a song of protection. With this, the saplings grew, leaves opening up in profusion, with buds unfolding. Where the seeds used to be were steadily growing plants. Flowers perfumed the air. Somewhere, bees appeared and pollinated the flowers – and they produced fruits. Apricots. Pomegranates. Olives.

At least, when the last tree stood tall and strong against one silver bird, she collapsed, breathing heavily. Perspiration coated her skin. But she had done it.

Then, with a silent gasp, she embraced her other form. A panther padded away from the hangar and the sentry guards paid it no heed.

Sleek raven's wings, sharp-curved,
Curled around the scythe, with black hair
Wind-blown, while the night dawns
Behind, black-on-black.

Sword-blade and song -
Warrior controlled, light-bringer:
Waiting for the morning star
And longing for aching love.

Sheltering boughs of cedar,
Acacias, silent,
Pomegranates, ruby sweetness,
Olive trees, sun-touched fruit.

Water, cool thirst.
Wind, blown.

Sun set, crimson blanket.
Moon rose, gentle shawl.

You walked,
Girl-child to fecund motherhood.

You Are An INFJ

The Protector You live your life with integrity, originality, vision, and creativity. Independent and stubborn, you rarely stray from your vision - no matter what it is. You are an excellent listener, with almost infinite patience. You have complex, deep feelings, and you take great care to express them. In love, you truly see relationships as an opportunity to connect and grow. You enjoy relationships as long as they are improving and changing. You can't stand stagnation. At work, you stay motivated and happy... as long as you are working toward a dream you support. You would make a great photographer, alternative medicine guru, or teacher. How you see yourself: Hardworking, ethical, and helpful When other people don't get you, they see you as: Manipulative, weak, and unstable

Wondering if I am competitive.

Or that I try to meet other people's standards... and giving myself personal grief/pain if I am not able to.

Perhaps, I am too hard on myself.

Well, this journal is supposed to be the auxiliary journal from LJ (which is going down south, because of inane and sneaky policy changes) and it is 'Another View Of The Forest'.

Why?

This is the view of the forest people fear to look at. The gnarly. The dark. The deep rich earth. The creatures that lurk in this level of the forest: the wolves, the cougars, the lynxes and the predators. Everyone has visions of forests with sunlight streaming down gloriously. However, everyone fears the dark forest, the one filled with strange noises and moving shadows.

Expect to see ranting or venting posts. Expect to see rage. Expect to see outpouring of emotions. Because this view of the forest is also real and true: we need different layers. We are different layers.

Livejournal is going downhill. Not because of its user-base, but because of the company that runs it.

Please, business people, use your brains for real.

here

This will be an auxiliary journal.

That's all.