I wake up in the morning of sms. Sami suggesting that we meet somewhere else than I suggested. Soon after another one, my mother asking if I am alright, and asking to send her a message. I’m alright, what has happened?
Two bombs in moscow metro, on a rush hour. But I’m not in moscow, yet.
Over 30 killed, I guess.
And you never know when you die.

Sami hasn’t heard either, an we talk, and say that if you look at the politics and where this country is heading, seem unlikely that this would be the last time. Unfortunately.

So what are we. So desperate that there’s only desperate actions?
Believing something greater, a nation, a language, a though, a god?
There’s nothing greater or more holy as life, and everything is living, so everything is holy, and nothing is.
Because definitions work only if they… define. And everything doesn’t really define, and nothing doesn’t really define. So what am I to write these words.

Today I said a sentence that I hoped I would remember, but I don’t.
Something about reality.
there’s no other reality than yours, subjective reality, created by your perception.
If you refine your perception, you refine your reality.
If you alter your perception, you alter your reality.
Your perception will fail you, but who is telling you that its not real. Who is telling it failed?
It’s just that other people perceive something different, or they define their experience somehow differently.
Normal is what we think that majority perceives.
It doesn’t mean that they/we actually perceive it. (we just think we should)
It doesn’t mean that it’s anymore true.
Relative. totally.

So in what reality those 30 and more people are killed?
In my because I know about it. In my mothers because she knows about it.
And in so many others, because they know, and feel.
Energy doesn’t dissappear but the form does, and I know that the form is emptiness.
Were they empty? Am I empty?
Who and what justifies such a great waste.
Who are you to waste even a drop of water in here?
Who are you to waste even a drop of love in here?
Who are you to waste even…?
And we waste because we feel wasted.
Not in power.
Not able to effect, except by waste.
Not listened, not heard.
Me me me. I say this, I do this, I’m not waste, I’m not wasted,
and maybe your hear me when I waste all of this.

I was talking about ego with Sveta.
And understood how often we talk ego as the bad, the want, the desire, the attachment, the envy, the vanity.
And how often we, thus, separate the ego from our “true” self. But there is no truer self. Ego is part of it. Ego is me, but me is not only ego. Part of me. So do not separate.
I saw it as a process of excluding the evil, the qualities that we don’t like. Devil made me do it.
But it’s all me.
All of this is me.
Even this reality and perception, with the knowledge of 30 or more dead.
And only reason it touches me is that I have friends there, and I’m going there in two days.
Do I want to die? No
Do I want to live? Yes.
Why? Because life wants to live, it is the meaning of it.
Am I wasting my life?
Uh, now that is a hard one.
So what is a waste?

We think because we know, we will die.
And yet, who is it who dies.
Never born never dying never dead.

Yesterday was the last class of the workshop here.
I liked the workshop, but today I’m being critical.
I talked too much, and, I think people didn’t get the mainpoint yet.
Or maybe the embodiment takes time. I certainly hope so.

Got a mail from Petri where he’s talking about contact improvisation. And how it should not be “just” a dance form.
If you don’t define a words meaning, it won’t have it.
If red doesn’t mean red, it can mean red green yellow gold black purple, and all the colors, why would we say red. So I wonder why he wants to use word contact improvisation. What ever he’s looking for.

And I think of death and dying.
And how I don’t understand it.
Like I don’t understand of nothing, or infinity.
And yet, somehow I do.

God won’t let things happen, we do.
how can I ever communicate, anything to you.
And I know I can, sometimes.
Can you hear me? Can you see me?
I will try my best to see you, to hear you, to feel.
And when not being able to, being clear of not being able.

Nevertheless, Good night and good luck to you all.

Between your head and toes

I don’t get much done.
I could blame the heartache but I know myself better.
It’s not about that.

So I played, finally, with garage band and Pod X3 and guitar.
But vocals still… uh, hard. And you know what, all the time with the tracker stuff has sounded too… bassy, stuck, not clear… and now, my vocals sound the same. I start to think that I should try other mic. maybe it’s my AKG C1000S? I have no idea, if you do, give me a hint.

Ok,I started to sing this song about… well, I think about 1 and a half year ago in moscow festival. About a year ago I wrote the lyrics.

About 9 months ago I tried to sing it but no could do.
No I did it.
Super simple.
4 vocal tracks, + 2 added in the end.
I kind of like it, but singing is more fun than listening..
Somehow this is those CI songs to me, maybe I made it while dancing, maybe not. I’m not sure anymore. In moscow anyway.

The lyrics might make sense, might not… but it’s pretty clear so make up your ow mind.
I have aproblem, there is a finnish black metal group (or at least was) called O… so I don’t know what name to use… Go figure.

O (A) – Collarbones

Love and lies


So I received a message that maybe we could meet in skype. I was happy.
We met, you were at your brothers and was lost of words. You often are, but you wrote that you love me.
You suggested that we meet next day at skype. I asked do You really want, and you said yes.
At 9 is 14 over here. at 14:45 you are there. line not really working so well… we try to talk. You can not promise anything, you feel love but not heartache anymore. You don’t know what you feel because you can’t see me. It was you who decided to stay there, far away from me. We had bought the tickets together, to return europe. It was you who wanted the distance. WHy to make yourself unclear about your feelings?
Every once and a while you vanish… When I ask about this you tell that you have to answer the phone, because some flat is being sold by your mother and that you will get comission if you sell it.
And once again you go, at elast saying that you’ll be back when the phone call is over. about 20 minutes pass and then I call to your landline. It’s free but you’re not on the skype either. No one answers. I call about five times to the landline until you answer (so much about the importance of comission) You tell me that Jimena is there from brasil and you will come back to skype when you’ve finished talking. And I wait. about 50 minutes from when you left you come back. I ask what do you want to say, you tell that you need to go. I waited for 50 minutes for you, to hear that you have to go. Is this how you treat the people you love? Is this how to treat person you say you love? With such a indifference about his feelings, about my feelings.

Is this how you would treat the person you love?

I’m hurt.

And I ask myself how can you? How can you treat me like this, after all that you’ve said.
But you’re your fathers daughter and full of blaa blaa blaa? is that it?
I wish I could be as indifferent as you.
But I can’t.
I wish I wouldn’t want to call you, to hear you voice to hear that you love me.
But I do.
I love you.
But it’s not enough, for us, because you don’t feel the same.

And I will never get an answer.
And I need to live with it.
Live with this.
And it’s not so much, and it’s not so bad.
It could be worse.

Why do I love someone who treats me like this?
Why do I wait?
Why do I still hope?

It was over, long time ago.

So how can I trust?
And to what?

I’m hurt.
Why do we hurt each others so?
I would be hurt if you said, No.
you don’t want to be with me.
But I’m more hurt that you lie, that you tell me you love me, that you tell me you miss me and then treat me like this. Like nothing, not important.

Ability to commit.
I get more and more amazed when I meet people. I always though that my ability to commit wasn’t too big. But it is. I know I can commit, and I know when I cannot. Often. It’s not flawless of course, my knowing.
So what is to commit. Is it a rigid form that doesn’t allow life and spontaniety? For me, of course not. It’s an intension. I intend to walk on this path, and some times I’ll fail. (haven’t found my path yet though). My feelings, my desires and my wants are conflicting, changing, moving. Like we are. My intension helps me to see among them what I want to choose. My commitment helps in my life. Only question that might arise is why? why am I committed to this or that? Why am I committed to organice ECITE? Why am I committed to this person.
And if there’s no reason, then I can question my commitment more. And I can leave it, change it.
But I’ve realised that I want a relationship with commitment. That it’s not always about feelings shifting here and there. That it’s not about oh, how do I feel with 6 months not seeing each other or how do I feel with 6 years living together. We will feel good and we will feel bad, but if we are able to communicate about it there’s a change. And if there’s an intension of good. I know I will hurt, but it’s not my intension, I know that she will hurt (who ever she will be) but it’s not her intension. That there’s a love and trust, to each others and to ourselves.

Now I just need to find the person who feel and thinks the same, and that we feel the same towards each others.
Not much luck, yet.

Maybe it sound romantic and naive. So I am romantic and naive then.
I want to share my life. Whatever it is.
This is what I want.
This is what I ask.


Quick another post.
In Bide in the lab of Susan. We were doing improvisation. I went and put the cd in, released by ECM, because ECM is ECM. It didn’t let me down.
What came out was this.
And I started to sing along…
Powerfull. Powerfull.
What they sing I have no idea, what I sing I have no idea.
And yet. I know.
Beautiful work.

Something like Monks leaping song…

I wonder is it just one or more….singer.

The power feels in the stomach coming up to the chest.
This is something that I want…
To be part, not apart.

Listen yourself.

Stephan Micus – Desert Poems – The Horses of Nizami

you smell of memory


What should I write.
That I liked BIDE. I met some lovely people and deepened the relationship between someones I already know. What is deep, after all.

Waking up in the middle of the night to leave for airport is such a fun. That’s why I didn’t go to sleep. My phone’s GPS has become super useful. otherwise I think I would have not found Barbara’s place on monday, or Alessia’s today. But I found.
Both have lovely house, or flats, btw.

In rome there was not much people on the classes. CI is not so big there right now, but maybe it will change again. In naples I’m not sure yet.
Got a lecture how I should have not gone to rome on my own.
Wondered how people in russia seem to be so co-operative.
That’s how things go.

A lot of more talk about relationships.
Everywhere. I like it, talking.

She writes me every once in a while. I write to her more often. But I’m the verbal one.
And in comparison…. well how can you compare feelings anyway. Is my joy greater than yours? Sorrow deeper, love more lasting?

Something deeply annoying today. My sennheizers broke… right headphone giving really weak and low volume…. ****

Got the title for this post from here
my sense of smell isn’t so good… apparently… but maybe I can practise it

Reading Ursula Le Guin again… A Compass Rose. All of the stories that I really fall into are actually telling about love, commitment… maybe not in relationship level but some bigger lever, like right, wrong, morals. Diary of the Rose was so beatiful that I almost cried again… but then again I was in a train… planes, trains, travelling and such beautiful stories, only thing that was missing was music, thanks to broken sennheisers.

I wish I had great realizations to share but I don’t.
I feel rather good.
I decided to go to ibiza in may and be there till july. let’s see.
She often writes let’s see… people do, let’s see.

After the festival I felt empty like I wrote. But I feel empty because I am not empty, because I hold attachments, hopes, dreams and that’s why what I call feeling empty is not feeling empty. If I am truly empty. No feel.

Today, in a jam I saw really nice tattoo of three eights of three signs of infinity. I ment to take photo of it, but forgot when leaving… it was nice…

Not born, not dead, infinite, always, everywhere.

Attachement – Longing

I didn’t believe, I couldn’t believe, I never though I would miss her so much.
After coming here, the festival straight on, lovely people lovely friends, things to do.. and somewhere there, underneath.
And then when the people are gone it reveals.

I know so many bad sides, things that I don’t like, or I have difficulties with.
And still I miss her, long for her, love her.
Feelings rarely go along with rationality. Too bad really.

You know how heartache is an actual feeling. in the heart, in the chest.

And she doesn’t write much and she doesn’t connect but when she does she says she loves me too.
Should I find it?
But things change, like she said. So only thing that I can trust is that things change.

Yesterday we were talking about relatioships in a bar witha few friends.
And at one point about the trust…
That there would be trust that there is something so strong and deep that it survives.
That there would be open communication. We don’t feel good all times. We might hate each others, but instead of always starting to think should we brake up, or does the other one want to brake up, there would be trust. Trust in love. And if there is love, I can be weak and vurnerable as well as strong… I don’t need to cover myself or hide. If I trust.
I don’t know how can I find it, with some one. or is there anyone with whom it would be possible. But I notice that I wish I would.
But this trust can only come from being yourself, both being their selves and open, communicating. What is it that I am today.

Before all of this, life was empty. and I realised that all of the other lives are as empty.. and because they’re empty they’re also full and beautiful. But I was very sad. I also realised that there is no happy endings. I though I knew it all the time, but I really hevan’t realised it until now. There is no happy endings… until you die, maybe. You know why? because it doesn’t end… and happiness is a relative state, and it will change. There is no happy endings, but there is happiness.

In my wake dream i receive an email where she tells me that she’s coming in two weeks.

I am attached…. I long for. I need to take refuge from buddha.

During the festival and after it I was reminded how many dear friends I have, and how much I love them, and how important they are for me. It might be that we don’t see often, or even talk often, but they’re there, here. I am here, if needed.

I’m thinking of going to ibiza again… for the summer, or beginning part of it.
Give me a job from there ok. from 10th of may till 14th of july. ok? with a big pay.

Lot of music, don’t tell more, except I really like Alva Noto’s Xerrox 2 and Grisha Lichtenberger’s Treibgut.

So long now