I used to practice my acting

I used to...

I used to practice my roles - my lines, my emotions, my texts, my acting - randomly, during the day, just to check how my heart and my tears were still connected, my imagination and my smile still in tune.

"It is useful", I used to think, for this was the nature of my work.

I was wrong.

I am not an actress anymore, and it IS useful, it still is, for this is the nature of my LIVING.

Today I repeated (still know it by heart) a text I performed 10 years ago (10 years!) and I felt all the emotions, the changes, the nuances, the fragile excitement, the deep suffering (yes, it was a tragic play), and I cried, and I lived again that woman's life, in Lebanon, in the post war. Can't remember her name... but she came to visit me today, how unexpected! How magically unexpected.

Grateful for my life and all it's richness. 

Grateful.

Taking back my power

Taking back my power...

Nothing can give us power. As nothing can take power away from us.

We are power.

I have a very dear friend who is a healer,she does the reiki/ meditation/ holistic work but we actually meet.. Partying!

Dancing and drinking in a bar!

And for months this is how we related,we hang out together,in bars,discos,parties! Well,somehow... celebrating!

In between drinks she used to say "are you aware your are a goddess?" , I used to go out in my sexiest outfit so for a while there.. I thought she meant I was "hot"! Ahahhaha!

After some time I got to know she was doing healing and she got to know I am interested in "these things" and we would get together and meditate and celebrate and.. She would still often say it "you are a goddess" and would insist "have you told that to your girlfriends,have you become aware of your power?"

I started to realize what she is talking about.. I started to work,respect and treasure this divinity inside of me.

This is empowerment, for me it is the power that comes from finding myself,from giving value to myself and showing it to the world. No need to please, no need to ask for sorry for my opinion, no need to hide my looks or use them to be heard or noticed. 

Be me and love me. This is the power I have been finding inside. 

With no need for approval, the power to just be myself."

afraid of your truth?

And when you find, during random talk with loved ones, new layers of fear hiding inside... When you are not speaking exactly your truth.

you know the feeling? Sure you ARE expressing yourself but just... Being careful... Afraid (yes, it is fear) of a misunderstanding, afraid (yes, it is fear) of being judged, afraid (yes, fear...)  of being rejected... Afraid they will love you less... It is both a trick and a treat this Halloween night gift.

Today I will speak all of my truth, freely and lovingly towards myself and my nature. Today and tomorrow, hugging new cycles close(r) to the heart.

two years ago I married India

Two years ago i married India. But this was not an arranged marriage. Or arranged by the Gods maybe, far from this bodily life we live. Me and India: the love affair was going on for a while. Probably since I saw your long eyelashes blinking with your dark eyeshades (can't believe there is no kajal on that!) at that bar in Vietnam; probably since I tasted yoga for the first time in that acting movement class; probably when I burned my tongue with madras biriani in that restaurant in Lisboa; probably when I did not dance Navrati at that temple in Maputo; probably when I tried the first kathakali steps washed in my own sweat in Kerala; or when I first tasted idlis (oh idli love!) at master's house, or prasad at snake temple (yes, paysam!!) or probably when I gazed at Amritapuri waters or cried at kali temple after Amma's hug; probably after street chai and greased pakoras in Mumbai; probably since I started wearing a bright red bindi in my forehead, cause I feel so strange without it; probably after dancing meditation in Pune; or after Swiming at sunset in Goa; probably when I received colorful garlands for the first time from your mother in Indore or when I almost fainted facing Indian traffic in the heat... Or... probably since I saw Taj Mahal's image (can you believe I haven't seen it for real yet?!) at one of my mum's oriental art books when I was a child (boy I was fascinated by that book). Or probably since the first time I tasted cardamom, just that way you keep it in your pocket, and you chew it and you forever enchant your words (and your kisses). Of course this was my love affair, this was my passion and my despair, my beauty and my beast. My turn me on and my iceberg. Sometimes lost in the beauty of a little temple of Shiva underneath a tree others not managing to see pass the cow's shit just in front of it. Sometimes delighted with the sound of tabla, others irritated by the high pinch voice that goes with it. So in love with the bright saris, so hating having to wear one. So fascinated by the mysterious rituals, so mad I was lost taking part of them. It was ON and OFF detox and intox of India. Such pleasure in an ayurvedic body oil massage, only matched by the amount of disgust in a glass of ghee to drink at panchakarma. But then I decided to choose, and I choose to accept something I feel like a karmic tie, a beyond time and space connection - and we did, also, called it a marriage. Inside of me i married my fire to yours, and we have, indeed, been burning since. When I say I married India you provably imagine gorgeous henna tattoo all over me, the groom coming riding on a horse and me, covered with a silk red sari, eyes looking down, delicate and reserved, siting in the middle of flower mandalas, in front of a brass dya, waiting for your light. Yes, that sounds amazing, but that is not me. I cannot tell you how many challenges I face when I visit, when I taste, when I cook, when I wear, when I kiss, when I love... India. India is my soulmate, indeed it is. Not the one that gives me forever bliss but the one that brings to the surface every one of my unresolved issues. India is my master, indeed it is. Not the one that uplifts and nourishes my soul with daily inspirational quotes and chants but the one that shakes my beliefs to dust. India is my tantra, indeed it is. Not the one that teaches me Kama sutra but the one that lives in the pleasure I learn to take from all the moments of my time. India is my sadhana, indeed it is. Not (only) the one that daily helps me down my mat for Suryanamaskar, not the one that flows trough my throat chakra speaking my truth and gives life to my kundalini dance moves celebrating my nature but the one that humbles me every step of the way, keeping the ego at bay. India is my spiritual path, indeed... It is... Not one that takes me to live in the mountain, wearing white clothes and forever meditating in a cave... But the one that shows me serenity in the middle of an Asian market; kindness in the aggressive crowd on a bus; calmness during a toddler tantrum; beautiful songs in a sleepless night; grounding in a skyscrapers town; strings of light in a long distance relationship... Two years a go I married India. But the love affair was going on for a while... This is not, as you can see about loving you, but I also do... Happy anniversary... With love, Joana (And now, yoga! ;-))

confessions of a body

Image by Juan Luis Rojano Mora

Confessions of a body Yes I have done it. I have changed clothes cause you asked me to. I have cut and dye my hair for your compliments and used bad words just because my crowd was using them. Yes I have heard my mother's voice inside my head countless times, correcting me and yours, criticizing. Yes I have used to deny that I did change the length of my skirts from country to country not to be respectful but to be accepted, to fit in, to be appreciated. Yes I have played small for your comfort. Yes I have indulged in casual sex. Yes I have lied before, about lovers and studies. Yes I have said before "I know" when I had no idea. Yes I said "I don't care" just before I took a shower to cry. Yes during all my traveling I have many times been afraid. Afraid to be ignorant, afraid to be lost, to be rejected, to feel ridiculous. Yes I have repeated words from others not really knowing what they mean. Yes I have used lines and wear trendy outfits just to look cool. Yes I have preferred to repeat myself in my safety zone than to try that new path. Yes I have traveled, yes I have changed place often, yes I get bored easily, yes I can do it just to hide away. Yes I have faked them, the orgasms. Yes I have celebrated them, the fights. Yes I have confused obsession with passion, aggression with love. Yes I have been afraid to speak my truth, yes I have hidden it inside for fear. Yes I have been jealous, yes I have lied about it. Yes I have loved to be stared at while walking into a room. Yes I am fragile, yes I used to pretend I was strong. Yes I have felt insecure about how good, how worthy, how loved I am. Yes I had doubts. Yes I did flirt out of boredom and had sex cause I could not say "no". Yes I felt abused, yes I did not say a thing. Yes I have drunk to escape to other realities, yes I have enjoyed that. Yes I have danced my feelings away. Yes I have faked a smile. Yes I wanted to look smart, yes I once felt I had to prove "i can do it" to the world. Yes I have tried to please you. Yes I have over eaten and I have starved just to be socially correct. Yes I wanted to be pretty and was afraid to connect with the beauty of other women. Yes I have been selfish, yes i can be mean. Yes I have flirted with your boyfriend just for fun. Yes sex has made me feel powerful. Yes there is darkness, yes I knew how to hide it walking in the spotlight. Yes I felt I knew it all, yes I got impatient listening to your questions. Yes I have judge you cause you are not like... Me. Yes I love to talk, yes I love that you listen. Yes, now it all comes to me. I have been there, I have done that. Yes. All of this is also me. Yes I was not sure I wanted to share this. yes I was afraid you would love me less. Yes, now I don't care.

My love for you is like Henna

My love for you is like henna. Yes it is beautiful. Yes, takes time and patience to built. Yes it seams to fade... Every 3 weeks or so... Yes, intricate patterns creating flowers and leaves, all world's nature sinking into my skin. Nature from that path we took to the beach everyday, next to the wild buffalos in south Lantau. Nature from those mountains we climbed in Argentina (remember? Oh how you love those cold hikes...). Yes, intricate pattern spiraled from our ecstatic love making visiting the ashrams in India. Yes, intricate pattern made of sharp edges from the unkind words emerging during our fights in Hong Kong. Yes, intricate... Sacred geometry designs, with yantras, Om and prayers, from our talks on spiritually, on planes (the ones that made a 14 hour flight go bye so fast, remember?). Henna has a scent, have you felt it? It does not smell like flowers, it is not perfume, it is a strong pungent smell that stays with you for the time the beauty lasts. You never forget you have henna even if you hide the tattoos. Intoxicating, more sensitive souls would say. I kind of like it... Henna is used to celebrate. Henna is used to purify. Henna is used to induce relaxation in the bride and women that help her during the stressful days of the wedding (did you know this?). Henna is used to bless... You told me once how beautiful it is that the women being hennaed have to be helped to do everything. If it's in your feet, you cannot walk If it's drying in your hands, you cannot eat. It's a ritual, a rite of passage. Yes, I can see how my love for you is like this henna I am so fascinated about... Henna tattoos take time, take love. Are gifts from artistic hands and soft hearts (yes I believe so. could you draw henna with an angry heart?). Henna is all the sacredness of the feminine, birthing beauty no matter what conditions. Have you heard of war zones, or natural disaster zones, where the women, emptied from all goods and sometimes loved ones, walk far, to go up in the mountains, to collect henna leaves and create the magic paste? Yes they do. They work for beauty. And beauty is love. My love for you is like henna... An art I even started to learn and tried to practice... Lost in the cones, hard to hold like a pen; and in the motifs, hard to draw and memorize. My love for you is like henna and I always feel when the design is fading... like if every spiritual cleansing I do is washing more of my skin, bathing my body... Me, siting, alone with the flowing water... Silently (sometimes painfully) watching the art fade away... My love for you is like henna and I feel all the heavy maintenance it takes, so many hours to create, so many secrets to help it look brighter and stronger, and so easy to let... it... all... fade... away. And I used to feel how demanding is this magic, how rooted in rules it lives, how... Easy is it to do it "wrong"... And I used to feel that if I did not take the time to sit down to work my magic, collecting the leaves, drying them to powder, mixing the paste (maybe adding the black tea, the lemon, the turmeric tricks to it), making the cones, and religiously apply it to my skin, letting it sink for a whole night, and keeping it away from water a whole day... it would just go.. Vanish... Yes, sometimes I feel my love for you is like henna... And it's time... To drop the effort and let it fade forever... Or... To make it a real, forever, tattoo.

Flowers in your hair

I dream of moving to one of those places where people wear flowers in their hair.

Why? Cause a place like that can't be a bad place.