ASMR for the soul

grass and ice

It’s come to the end! I got creative with this one. I used very different sounds and tried them out together… let me know as always 🙂

It comes down, it comes down

thin rain, the type you barely felt

and you almost don’t care

you can almost keep going;

but the inevitable creeps

clothes weight and hair sticks to the back of your neck

it won’t let you think well.

I’m here to question

what you think I don’t hear.

And if I wanna know I’ll ask more

in my head I rap the words to the world;

fingerpicking on my guitar, so usual;

vampires on my bedside table; stories of women;

my friend’s poems; red bush tea with cinnamon.

The grass runs with the wind and I want to chase its waves,

go wherever it takes, don’t want to think, don’t want to plan.

9.1% today, and the cycle starts, waxing crescent

full snow moon; moon of ice; either one works for when the trees crack in the cold, and the people gather shoulder to shoulder for warmth.

purification, renewal; new beginnings

We are all circles after all.

eyes

Audio number 7/8. Last one coming up tomorrow! I will probably come up with different series of creations after these, if you have any suggestions I’m happy to take them.

Let me now what you think of these ‘eyes’. Plug your earphones and relax. It’s time 🙂

Eyes in the back of the head. No one could scare it, nothing came as a surprise to it.

Confidence exhaled from every pore of its being, walking around the streets with no fear.

For every action it had a reaction, ready since the moment it had seen them coming. Checking their faces to address their emotions and adjusting its own to fit their talking.

It was automatic, easy, what else could it do but take advantage. No guards down, ever. Perfect answer to every aspect.

Everyone loved it. How could they not love that? When they were sad, it was ready to cheer them up. When they were happy, the smile was there already to ensure that wouldn’t change, for them.

It didn’t feel tiring, except on its own sometimes its energy flattered. It didn’t have time for it’s own feelings.

Soon everyday was dull, as uncertainty is what moves us from our confined space. And putting a beanie over its head, we can now call it a her (or him, as you prefer). She now has feelings for herself, and won’t spent its smiles just to fit someone else’s.

It was nice now to have emotions to be felt, and read, by someone that wasn’t herself.

Her walls were down. Her tears could be dried by the hands of someone that didn’t necessarily have to be sad.

She felt taken care of. Maybe that’s what we need. Maybe that’s what we can give.

people who love are :)

The sun rises with this beat, crippling sounds fill the room here.

Birds fly high, just wait for them to appear.

Earphones/headphones on. Mindset ready to loosen your thoughts. Travel close or travel far but let it happen, imagine.

grasp, the sides of the frame

hang, it over the bed

lay, your back on the mattress

close, your eyes and inhale

take, whats left of the day

turn, it into wild dreams in your head

grasp, the sides of the frame

give into steadiness, controlled environment;

fun nonsense

Less ambience, more minimal sounds. Inspired by the ones we hear almost every day, like the tapping on the computer’s keyboard; and some ear brushing that can take your mind to the sound of sea waves, or maybe the wind?

Take the stairs up, and your thighs burn. Grasp the wind hitting your face, don’t complain. You’ve got time; to make amends, to start again, to change or stay the same. It’s up to you, not up to them.

Want to cross but want it to stop, keep moving ahead.

Think your words and maybe you’ll hear yourself. It’s not what you think, it’s what you choose to say.

Sheepish smiles, unapproved red cheeks at first glance of spirit. Maybe your body speaks, you just won’t listen to it.

Such innocence might be your best bet for honesty and transparency.

Recycle meaning or you might end up with a head full of theories.

The more you learn, the less you’ll know; I wasn’t sure if that was true but now I know. I’ll stick to my theme and let it guide me from here.

But tomorrow, who knows.

Writing at best to fill up some space in the canvas in my head, so white sometimes it stings to not paint it full to life.

If they’re wrong I’ll prove them right, no problem with being nice about that. I’m a sore loser and I’ll be mad if I’m the one that’s got it bad.

Surely nothing wrong with that, I admit that from the start; only way to get it right is to fail a thousand times. And ‘right’ I don’t know if it even counts for anything at all.

no sense, no sense, nonsense.

don’t read for plot, read for moments here

campside

If you were born in a city, this poem is for you.

Hoping that deep down in your dull eyes, you’ll see blades of grass. And the people have to make the difference, but it’s nice to take a break.

To swap this delinquent life for a rose.

It’s the anthem of the countryside. Of our rivers, of our mountains. Of the life, humanity, of the animal world. Shout it loud, use your vocal chords!

No jobs, no diplomas; everywhere the same smell. Nothing makes your neurons shake anymore, not even the h*** you put in your j*****

Go somewhere else, nothing binds you here

Go fast, do something with your hands

Don’t come back, you have nothing here

Sit down next to a river and listen to sound water makes against the ground.

Say to yourself that in the end, hey, there’s the sea, And that’s not ephemeral at all.

Then you’ll understand you have nothing. Like the one before you, the one to come; That the liquid slipping through your hands will be useful to live until tomorrow morning.

Sit down next to an old oak and compare it to the human race. The oxygen and the shadow it gives you.. Does it deserve the blow of the axes that make it bleed?

Raise your head, look at its leaves. You might see a squirrel staring at you proudly.

Its house is there, you’re in the threshold…

These are the lyrics of the song L’hymne de nos campagnes. It translates from french to something like The anthem of our countryside. My french friend showed it to me and I thought the lyrics told a beautiful story that I could not put in better words. Hope you enjoy them, have a listen to the song too 🙂

My fourth audio bit is here too! I’m quite happy with this one, let me know what you think.

For Writing Imaginations and dreams

“The breaking of the world into fragments and minutes and binary codes may be, at some level, an impossible, beautiful, failed effort to make it whole again.”

Deep into studying this week I’ve been inspired to create a studying scenario, with writing sounds that motivated me to start and do it myself, or even just to doodle something. Maybe if you’re feeling lazy it will prop you to take a pen and… who knows what will come out of it? It starts with taking pen and paper. Easy peasy.

That quote up there is from Nicholas Rombes in a book I read for class, and I like it so I thought I would share it 🙂

Imaginations and dreams when the owl falls asleep.

In the daylight he doesn’t see, focused on nailing his claws firmly to the tree branch; to the limb.

A stroll around the park, a trip through the skies, watching people from afar, can’t get too close even if he tries.

From windows light comes out, sometimes too bright for the owl. And when stars finally come out, they become dimmed for the night. Finally where he belongs, everyone sleeps but him now.

Big eyes open, thankful for the things he gets to see and wouldn’t be had he chosen a different place to sit.

The wind speaks these days, relentlessly and unapologetically taking everything that desires to go along with him. The owl wonders if they are being carried because they so decide, or if they are aimless pieces trying to fit somewhere tonight, somewhere they will regret the next day, or maybe even forget by next week.

He is scared tonight, he does not want to lose the control we all hold on to so dearly. He sees a nice porch, but can’t bring himself to face the restless wind.

He sings to him, and tries to call his name but he does not find it.

What is the name of the wind?

She treks!

Hello again! Here’s my second audio, that I would describe as more peaceful and calm than last one, maybe. Let me know what you think!

As always, better with eyes closed and open mind to travel far far.

I played it for myself when I woke up the other day. I hadn’t slept much and needed to rest my mind before classes. And it helped me relax, which is cool 🙂 Hopefully it can help you at some point.

Coming through again, the leaves and mud stains, it doesn’t quite feel the same, something must have changed in the air.

The sheer happiness of existence that took over for timeless space (and one thing we know for sure is that we don’t know how long for) is not there.

She focuses on life around her but her experiences come to mind, and the feelings those arise, transcending physicality of life. Can’t she focus on the wind one more time? Sit down, have a chat, and keep going after that?

What are the others doing? She asks herself for the first time.

Little did she know, she will never know.

Relearning the steps, remembering the first time she opened her eyes to the world that she now treks with her hands making way in front of her.

It’s exciting again; there are some things that she can’t help but ask herself; she doesn’t smile to her flying mates; she hops on a cloud and lays down for stillness of mind and rest.

Eyes open; toes twist; hands grip; back stretches.

Consciousness of movement with each feeling.

Welcome to the jungle, are you going to dance with me?

Happy February! Here’s my first audio bit. It comes with some images that I’ve taken recently, but I would recommend putting on headphones and closing your eyes. Let your imagination run wild, follow the sounds of the music to wherever they take you.

And let me know if you like it, or if you dont! 🙂

Also, you can read the short story I’ve written down, it might awake some sceneries in your mind to explore and relax to.

With intention. It moved through humid tropical trees. To arrive, somewhere, but to arrive. And discovering their ability to climb, and climbing to the crown of the trees and even flying! And from up there observing, their favourite and most entertaining act; the sky, clouds, warm sun and endless prominent trees until the furthest horizon of her eyes.

There were more.

They crossed paths, acknowledged each other, smiled back, they would stop and chat and eat some fruit and then continue on their never-ending journey to somewhere. It didnt matter where, just that they were, present, flying! Meeting beeings and smelling aromas from the absolute beauty of Mother Earth.

“I should come down one day”, she told herself while laughing. It was true, she would come down and feel the mud on the soles of her feet, again, the water in her face from the drops on the leaves.

It didnt matter.

Worms came out of the mud, and although slimy they made her ticklish and again she laughed. When she felt alone she would hug a tree, and looking around thousands did the same. She wasnt alone, she never had been! Fruit fed her energy, sun brought life, the moon gave patience to her convoluted soul. She searched, searched, without knowing she was finding herself on every turn.

There was a plain one day, and for the first time in the jungle she wasnt surrounded by lushy trees caresing her from head to toe every second. In the presence of calmness, she sat down and waited.

Many came together that day. They danced, hugged, they held hands and trusted.

Next day they left.