fragment (a dream)

I remember it vividly, part of my dream,
the sunrise spilled at the horizon, mixed with the indigo
of the sky, sipping through the loosely closed doors
of my eyelids. Colors whisper in silence, alive and vibrant,
sticks to my hair like a spring honey, pale-yellow and lustrous,
falling in circular silky waves to the floor, as the scissors
chew on it with a metallic, monotonous rhythm…

© 2011 by Nina K Orlovskaya

letters (happy holidays)

I raise my glass
to every lost soul on this planet,
it is I among them,
to every fortunate and unfortunate one
it is I one of them.

I raise my glass
to every soul, that vibrates
in the agony of life
and shines with glorious beauty
while burning into ashes.

I raise my glass
to every one of them.


© 2011 by Nina K Orlovskaya

letters (with you)

There was a night and a river.
Fireflies were dropping burning shoes
into the bonfire. I leaned on your shoulder,
my breath condensed me into a drop
on your skin…

A frozen particle from the tail of the comet,
I felt down, into soft pile of amber.
A striped yellow cat was purring
his cat song into indifference
of the last moment. And I decipher then,
life is full of surprises…
but not anticipated ones.

© 2011 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments (the choices, conclusion)

And, in conclusion, life is a routine. “Magical Beings’ (Castaneda), have no routines. In my mind – alive being has choices versus routine. If one doesn’t probe the fringes of his routines, how can one possibly know that he is alive? Who said “I am thinking therefore I am alive”? Not so fast. Let’s say in my dream I travel across the Galaxy, land in an alien world, interact with alien life – all extremely vivid dream/memory. For 10 minutes of real time, my mind thought and lived decades of a very interesting life. And I was not aware at all of my ‘other’ body, comfortably resting in the bed. It’s going to be like this every time until I will train my brain to split in two: let one wander and another to know better. It would be a mistake to try changing or to control oneself, evolution spent millions (?) of years to mold me into what I am, I cannot change anything and since I endured it all – I am perfect as I am. But I can change my immediate environment. There is a tricky thing about the environment – it resists any changes, sometimes violently. You cannot command it, you must trick it. One method I know – sudden change of routine, a detour, a ‘timebubble’. And it not only helps one to change the environment but also gives an assurance of being alive. Not to dwell too deep into a philosophic concept I will say, I haven’t seen any dead person to be alive but I have seen many alive people being dead.

letters (fractured...)

Fractured thought
freshly inked on to my skin,
snowflakes in black.
Words bleed like a dream.

Broken flowers
smell like death…

© 2011 by Nina K Orlovskaya

fragments (the choices, cont...)

As one of my friends emphasized my words about personalities that in competition to express itself as of a russian doll within a doll. I imagine it as onion layers. Peter Ouspensky referred to the phenomenon as a multiple ‘I’s’.

His writing, at least about this particular subject, was based on observation and intuition and perhaps it is a little ambiguous to the modern reader. Since his time we gained significant, but still limited, insight into physiology of our actions, and choices…

We all know now that consciously we are aware of only about a fraction of all information that our brain receives and process in a unit of time, in simple words our mind decides what information is important and has priority to ensure our survival, something one must be aware of.

A classic example when a gazillion bits of information every cell of our skin sends to the brain every moment about the shirt one is wearing, although one will become aware of his shirt only in the case of sudden changes (hot coffee spilled over your left sleeve), real danger of injury. But then, sometimes spilled coffee would not be translated objectively but rather will resurrect a memory of a past event or a fantasy from the future. There is a competing "I" in action.

Next, let’s stick with Ouspensky as he said, all depends on the magnetic center within our being, a core, a Master in a sense, something we develop, consciously or unconsciously, during our lifetime. Something we are born with and genetically vary from each other.

This is an extensive and complex concept, some people devote decades of their lifetime to understand it. I can say that this is a door and when I look through it I see that there is a vast number of things in the world one will discover during his lifetime, there is an incalculable number of things in the world, one will never be aware of and there are a few things one can create, and those are not the property of the World but the property of a Being.

And conclusion… next time…

fragments ( the choices)

On my way to work… Another beautiful spring morning in Detroit, in the end of December. There is nothing particular I like about spring, on the contrary, it is the dirtiest time of the year, especially at the beginning. I like the moment of spring in December, (I would love to see one snowy morning in July, never happened though). When inappropriate (meaning does not belong) structures appear in your environment, they have tendencies to sharpen your focus beyond your normal limits. In my Theory of Time they form ‘time bubbles’.

An inappropriate spring morning and, suddenly, I am in one of the April’s mornings. The landscape is recognizable to the last tree, to the last building, to the last shadow, and, not the memories, but a reality of the past suddenly flooded my being.

I think if I would have enough personal strength I would have an opportunity to change my future if I change something now, while I am in that time bubble.

How much strength one needs to change the routine of the moment? I am taking the next left... side roads instead of the regular one. Sure enough, within a few minutes I am escaping a car accident by a split second.

Aftershock of adrenaline surge… my hands still shaking… regretful thought ‘ why are you always messing with things you have no or little understanding of?’. The thought is regretful but not remorseful. I will do it again the first opportunity I get.

We make our choices and take our chances. Being bored and boring is worse than being weird, trust me on this one…