The lightness in the feet Comes from the mind With intent, without weight Thought is movement Before and after the movement Harmony is the sign of the link In syntony fatigue and doubt fade And the impossible begins Softly in the next step…
One can choose to pass and not notice What almost always goes unnoticed. One can choose to search for the unnoticed Everytime in everything and just discover The human impossibility of it. And one can choose to search for the unnoticed In the exact same thing that was noticed Time after time And even so discover A new light, a new angle, a new colour That will go unnoticed afterwards Just because it wasn’t noticed In the only moment it could have been noticed…
When the trees cover with ballerina-leaves Then Spring begins and announces Warmer days and higher expectations Some dress in shades of green Some dress in shades of red Some wear the whole palette The observer sees them all The painter adds some more The photographer allows to take them home Without stealing them from the trees Tomorrow they’ll wear a different dress Tomorrow will be another Spring day
São Ludovino, 5/3/2025
Dance of the birds I, photography by São Ludovino.
Below is another chapter of a sequence of articles that I wrote about a decade ago.
All “holy books” are interesting books of symbolical stories conceived and written by human hands; some also have some fragments of factual History, like the Torah and the Bible attested by thousands of archeological findings in old and new Israel. But they are not History and Science books. Islam takes the Quran as the only book that contains all knowledge. What happens when someone mixes everything and takes a parable, a fantasy, a “human revelation”, a subjective interpretation or an opinion for an historical truth? The World, Life, the Universe become a succession of illusions, knowledge becomes an untouchable mirage and dogmas take the place of all natural inner faith. But those who submit and believe in all this and in nothing else believe this is the only truth and become eternal prisoners of their beliefs.
Some of those who uttered and / or wrote those texts were real and even exceptional human beings, because they were truly good in their souls and in their lives. The way they lived, their principles, ideas and ideals demonstrated that (the Jewish prophets, Jesus (also a Jew from Israel), Buddha, Lao Tse, and many others). But what may we say about those who were dishonest, cruel, autocratic, slavers, killers and demanded their followers to be and do the same? Should anyone take their words as representative of god’s being and will and follow their teachings and commands? That would be absurd and evil. And yet that’s precisely what happened and still happens in Islam.
Some “holy books” also prescribe ways of thinking and living using imaginary stories or episodes of the life of a particular person (a prophet, a saint, a wiseman or wisewoman…). Many of those stories are really instructive, make us reflect upon our own choices and actions; sometimes, even when the characters act wrongly, the purpose is sublime or just point the best way to act in some practical situations. But the entire subjacent moral in these stories is of a religious and ethical kind. The values and actions defended are considered good because someone assumed that was god’s will and decision. And many of those values and actions are actually good by universal ethical standards of any culture and time. But what can we say when those examples and teachings impose to people barbaric values, actions and the total disrespect for humankind?
By any dignifying human standards of the present, or even of the past of many civilizations, Muhammad would be considered a very despicable individual. I don’t need to enunciate here in detail his destructive actions and teachings; anyone can read several biographies by very different authors. And the Quran, with its 114 Surah, and the Hadith (teachings and sayings of the prophet), are available in many languages, printed and online. You just have to read them (choose the most accurate and impartial not the apologetic) to draw your own conclusions. Only Islamic authors will show a positive image of Muhammad, his actions and his teachings, justifying his crimes as legitimate and as being the manifestation of god’s will. How can anyone perfectly reasonable defend such a character and follow his teachings was always a mystery to me. I began to read a lot about religions when I was around 12-year-old and already then it was evident to me how “un-divine” and destructive Islam was in its essence. And my attitude wasn’t unilateral because I also had and have many objections to other religions. Later, I read the Quran and several biographies of Muhammad, by several authors and in different languages. I was still trying to understand how it was possible that any reasonable human being would follow such a “religion”.
It took me some time to understand that after all Islam wasn’t even a religion, was a political ideology that uses god and religion to achieve its purposes: control, manipulate, conquer and dominate the world with its perverse autocratic religious form of governing peoples and nations. In the present I see the addicted followers of Islam as some kind of brainwashed prisoners that accept totally their condition of mental prisoners (a kind of “self mental autocracy”) and want to impose that same way of living to the rest of the world. That’s their model of perfection and happiness!
It is disturbing to verify that Islamic values really correspond to what its holy book prescribes (in all the 30 existing versions written along 100 years starting at least 150 years after the death of the “prophet”) and that no reform was made to make it fairer and human. Or at least the religious leaders should declare that a holy book can’t be taken literally. But why should Islam be reformed if it is so convenient for rulers just like it is? While there’s thirst of autocratic power and there’s still some oil in the Islamic countries most probably no reform will be done. Other reason to this petrified state of Islam teachings and morality has to do with the ignorance of Quran itself. The direct knowledge of Quran, through reading, is even worse than the knowledge of the Bible in the Middle Ages in Europe. The great majority of Islamic followers are illiterate; they can’t even read the Quran, at least in Arabic, they just know Islam by hearsay and clerics preachments. They believe and follow what they hear, no matter how absurd and barbaric it is. So, the holy book of Islam is like a mirage: it exists but it isn’t really known.
Would you blindly follow any fiction book whose author tells you that its content is a direct revelation of the “words of god” even without reading it?
The radical leaders and their uncritical and loyal servants and followers use everything to achieve their purpose, mainly terror and killing as prescribed in their holy book. And to complete this circle of manipulation, civil laws reproduce the religious dogmas and stay unchangeable, the sharia law. Religious cruel laws shape and control by force the lives of believers and unbelievers under an Islamic regime. And this mad model is presented to the world as the only perfect society. As if terror did ever lead to anything good, to any real and lasting “victory” or a sane and peaceful society. But nothing of that is surprising because that was precisely the way Islam was born: jihad, the holy war against the infidel, was the first main imposition of the prophet. He practiced it himself killing those who wouldn’t submit, what makes the prophet just a warlord and his ideology a cult of war and death.
Some analysts and historians call this strategy the “political Islam”. Well, anyone who really knows a little bit of Islam History knows that Islam was a political ideology from the beginning, very similar to any other dictatorial ideology, with or without the personal cult of a leader (Nazism / Hitler, Bolshevism / Leninism / Stalinism, Maoism / Mao Tse Tung, Fascism / Mussolini, “North Koreanism” / Kim Jong Un, “Chavism” / Hugo Chávez, “Madurism” / Nicolás Maduro, Castrism” / Fidel Castro, Putinism / Vladimir Putin…). It is not irrelevant that Hitler admired Islam so much and considered Christianity the religion of the “weak”, because Islam knew how to make war and kill, and Christianism preferred peace and coexistence, at least in his essence and origin… the Inquisition and the systematic pogroms against Jews proved the opposite. Islam and the Russian totalitarianism are also in the root of “Palestinianism”, a pernicious farce formally and publicly created in 1964 by the Russians and Yasser Arafat (PLO), a virus-idea that keeps killing until the present. Before Arafat, the mufti of Jerusalem, Amin al-Husayni, became a friend and ally of Hitler and asked him to help to install some kind of extermination camps of Jews in Israel, the ancestral homeland of the Jews, and all over the Middle East. Considering the chronology, one may even assume that Amin al-Husayni, the first founder of “Palestinianism” point the way to Hitler in what concerns the Final Solution. Those camps weren’t built probably because Hitler was too busy exterminating the Jews who were living in Europe.
The clouds bend And open a vast road above Since the blue beyond is immeasurable The road is infinite. No matter how small and weak The wings of the birds may be Each flight is a step in the infinite road…
São Ludovino, 1/12/2024
The chant of the clouds
From where I’m standing The storm is surrendering The rage becomes a chant And the hard rain Delays its fury Suspended above…
São Ludovino, 1/12/2024
Resting in the harbour
I carry a lighthouse in my soul And a ship in my mind As an old sailor I know the only one Who can take me down Is the large ocean And the oblivion of return…
São Ludovino, 1/12/2024
The author within
I found a seed inside a flower And a flower inside a hand And a hand inside a mind And a mind inside a book Then, the endless sowing And cropping began The more pages I turn The more seeds I find And the hidden author within Is yet to be found…
São Ludovino, 1/12/2024
Continuum
The last rays here Are the first somewhere else. Light is a continuum The link between all points In time and space.
São Ludovino, 1/12/2024
Sunset, photography by São Ludovino.
Expanding Time & Space, photography by São Ludovino.
They fell Your children, your brothers, your beloved ones, they fell In the beautiful land where they were born Giving old words a renewed meaning: Nation, native land, motherland Cradle of dreams and freedom New matrix of the Free World.
None will be forgotten None fell in vain Vain and evil was the beast that torn your land. Soon, the fog of dark times will be washed away by your tears By your rebuilding arms and your faith in a greater destiny Soon your ancestors will see the reward for their sacrifice Soon, the sunflowers will shine as a perennial hymn To all and each of you Brave heroes of Ukraine!
All pain and suffering leaves a footprint in memory A gap in the path of each lifetime A broken bridge in the soul. Don’t erase any footprint They are monuments to the fallen and the living Fill the gap with your strength Rebuild the bridge with the endless love for your land.
Your unbeatable courage, soldiers of light, will be the crown of peace Your wise determination, leaders of the just, will live beyond victory Your arms, mother, will regain the will and the warmth Your eyes, children, will see the new rising of Ukraine!
Another part of the old project of illustrating my own writing. Again, this was put into a video with pictures. But in other experiences I just used photographs and / or drawings. This is probably the tiniest story I ever wrote in my life.
The
Sweet Guide
The guide is the one who goes in the front or the one who follows at our side?
Here’s a very short “poem-story” that emerged from a simple image of a duck swimming in a lake.
—Let me follow your shadow! – said one duck.
—Whose shadow will I follow if you follow behind me? – asked the other duck.
—Then, let us follow side by side, our shadows will be together – said the first.
—We will be as one, knowing that we are two.
—Let’s make the way together even if you are faster than me.
Below, I keep the empty image from the
previous video that was on the "São Ludovino" channel. On November 5,
2024, YouTube or some entity on YouTube's behalf, removed my channel without
prior notice and without objectively identifying the cause (video, scene,
images or words), accusing me only of violating its policies concerning to
"Violent Criminal Organizations". With this gesture worthy of the
worst autocracies and theocracies, around 200 videos were destroyed, half of
them about theatre, which constituted an official document relating to students’
evaluation and that appeared in the portfolios and CVs of countless young
actors and directors. 15 years of work were destroyed in the name of an absurd
accusation!
This note will appear in all posts that
contain videos that were on the "São Ludovino" channel.
This is part of an old project: illustrate my own words with pictures by me and by others. Initially, this and other poems and stories were inspired by a single image. That close connection between the words and those images still make sense. But the idea is to recreate and adopt new perspectives. This project contains old and new pieces of writing.
Until the Edge
Among a thousand poppies, There was a poppy That was pretending to be alone. Her way of being alone Consisted only in looking always In the same direction, The same horizon, The same portion of the infinite sky.
Among a thousand poppies, The lonely poppy Was training her red chalice wings to fly. “Bluebirds fly Birds fly over the rainbow” (she sang) “Why then, oh why can’t I?”
Above the thousand poppies The clouds were moving But the untouchable blue remained. And the lonely poppy kept singing “Way up high There’s a land that I heard of Once in a lullaby”.
The thousand poppies were withering In the blazing sun. The red turned purple and fell on the ground. Only one poppy remained. The lonely poppy keeps singing And training her red chalice wings: “Skies are blue, And the dreams that you dare to dream Really do come true.”
In the summer fields no poppy remains. The rarefied clouds came back. Up above a red bird disappears over the edge Of the same untouchable blue horizon…
Below, I keep the empty image from the previous video that was on the "São Ludovino" channel. On November 5, 2024, YouTube or some entity on YouTube's behalf, removed my channel without prior notice and without objectively identifying the cause (video, scene, images or words), accusing me only of violating its policies concerning to "Violent Criminal Organizations". With this gesture worthy of the worst autocracies and theocracies, around 200 videos were destroyed, half of them about theatre, which constituted an official document relating to students’ evaluation and that appeared in the portfolios and CVs of countless young actors and directors. 15 years of work were destroyed in the name of an absurd accusation!
This note will appear in all posts that contain videos that were on the "São Ludovino" channel.
Beholding life with pure childish eyes is surely a free ticket to happy feelings and experiences. And almost every day offers infinite possibilities of taking a new ride. No need for big money, superfluous or sophisticated things, just a clean mind and soul and a deep thankfulness for being alive.
One year ago, in January of this year (2020) when the virus (corona virus SARS-Cov2) was already walking among us, even if we didn’t know, I had this same intense feeling of preciousness that I find almost everywhere and in everything (at least in the good ones). But perhaps the state of wonder I was experiencing was even more intense because it was easy to foresee what would come very soon.
I remember how the afternoon of the first day of January of 2020 was sunny and pleasant, though the night became quite cold. Beholding the sunset from the top of a giant wheel with tiny people walking below was like traveling above a fragile precious world that was about to stand still for a long time. Nothing stood really still, only everything was moving in a different way and rhythm.
I tried to adapt to the new rhythm or perhaps I adapted the new rhythm to my own rhythm. I felt I was moving in an immobile world. Restrictions give me this sensation of immobility. But I never felt immobile myself. Childish eyes and mind were always there to put everything in movement, mainly within.
The video below (recorded in January 1, 2020) is just the recording of some moments of that afternoon and nightfall by the sea (at Cascais Bay).
Between Dusk & Night - Photography & video by São Ludovino
The following poem (Turning Still) was written very recently but thinking also about that same impression of preciousness that is offered to us so many times. Even if it is ephemeral, take the gift! It is as precious as a star and there are stars living within each pure soul.
Turning Still
The star that shines in my hands Didn’t fall from the sky Came from somewhere within Stands by my side and persists Walks with my feet and leads the journey Flies and rests with the same thousand wings Sleeps and follows ahead in some unknown corner of my soul.
The star that grows in my garden Is one of a kind, like all the stars of all gardens It has no roots in the ground, only feet of light Large embracing arms that love the same way The sun, the rain of today, the impredictable tomorrow. It feeds from the air and things that are what they are Offers fruits and seeds to the past and to the future To the eternal present of the flowing days.
The star that looks into my eyes Lives entirely in my eyes Speaks the language of truth Simple, universal and transparent It can’t be except what it is Finds its meaning and place Wherever the truth of life exists.
Moving still, I look around and within From within and from beyond I see more than my eyes can see I see the star that was born with me. I shine and merge in a star’s hands and eyes. Turning still is the eternal journey of the ephemeral The one that never began and won’t end.
I can tell you the story
Because I remember everything.
I may forget words and faces
But I remember the essence.
Well, I don't have to remember
Because it's all inside of me.
And I don't know exactly
Where do I begin
And where do I end.
So probably nothing is missing
in this story
Though I don't know where it will end...
Probably you don't remember
Because you were sleeping
Like the most part of the world.
But I was awake.
Something was telling me
I should keep myself awake.
I was the one who had to see, feel
And keep everything within.
So I had to be prepared
Always prepared
To receive all beginnings.
All the mysteries
And any insignificant thing.
Though nothing is insignificant
As you know... At least if you
Are not asleep by now...
And even if you are
You’ll hear the story in your sleep.
That sound over your forehead
Is the sound of my wings…
That breeze in your chest
Comes from the trees in this forest…
That glow in your eyes
Comes from the same universal sky…
I live everywhere
Where there is any natural living thing.
I’m just the heart of the Gentle Spirit
Of earth and sky, water and light.
But that is what I am now.
Long ago I was a child
Like any other child.
Except perhaps in one thing.
When they used to ask me
What did I want to be
I always answered:
- I want to be everything!
- But you can´t be everything
You must choose one thing!
I never chose
It was impossible
To be just one thing
There was such a huge world around
Why should I be just one thing?
My life was quite simple
And very ethereal too
Being in my own way
All the things I crossed with.
Good morning, butterfly, how are you?
And that was enough to be that butterfly
Exactly that one
With the same colours and flight movements.
And this way I understood what it really was
To be a butterfly, exactly that butterfly.
It was much more difficult to be a lake
Or a huge mountain.
I had to spend infinite days watching
Walking along the trails
Touching and breathing
Until one fine day
I was the mountain, the lake
The trails, the rocks and all the plants
Along the mountainside.
But then I had to be any tiny thing
Across the mountain too.
And each time I became a new thing
I was still all the others I had been before.
Those were very busy adventurous days
And so they are now.
A long time passed.
I don’t know how old I am
But I think I must be very old.
Today is a fine day to be just a tree leaf
Exactly this leaf of this tree.
This leaf will join the million other leaves
I’ve been and I still am
And the feeling of being the whole forest
All the forests in the world
Will emerge livelier in my mind.
And they kept saying
- But why do you want to be a leaf, a tree, a forest?
I didn’t bother to answer anymore.
All moments are precious.
It’s a waste of time trying to explain
What is supposed to be felt
And experienced deep within.
So today I’m a leaf in one tree of the world.
As I look around I notice this leaf
Is the first leaf of a very old tree.
It must be winter or this tree is very tired
Because I’m the only one growing in her branches.
Then I saw it wasn’t winter.
All the other trees were covered
With beautiful new leaves.
I thought to myself that my inner need
Wasn’t only an idiosyncrasy after all.
It was a very serious and important task
A sacred task of love and dedication.
I had to be not only what already existed
But all the things that were meant to exist.
So here I am waving in this tree branch
Trying to find out what’s the next task.
Cover the whole tree with new green leaves?
Go down to the roots and give them warmth?
Be a sunbeam and caress all the branches?
Be another tree and grow by the side of that old one?
Lost in my thoughts I didn’t notice
The presence of a gentle visitor.
Well it would be difficult to notice him
Because he was gigantic and almost transparent.
«What are you doing, little one?»
So I’m not old, I thought to myself
“He called me little one!”
Then I thought I was really very tiny
Considering his huge presence.
«I’m being a leaf in this tree
I think she needs more leaves»
I explained.
«Well, little one» he said.
«I have a task very similar to yours
Only I’ve been doing it for a long, long time.
Much more than you can imagine
Though I know you have a great imagination
And above all you have a huge heart
In that tiny chest of yours.
Well, sometimes I feel my heart
Is not enough.
So, I’m inviting you
To be my heart.
You won’t be a second heart.
You’ll be within my own heart.
You’ll be the Fountain of Life
Always ticking and eager to go on.
You’ll keep doing what you always did
And you may be sure
I won’t ever ask you why you are doing it.
I know why without asking.»
And may I ask who are you? – I asked.
He said that I surely knew
Without knowing that I knew.
Or I wouldn’t be doing what I was doing
All my life.
Yes, I knew.
And now I know more.
I belong within the Gentle Spirit.
I’m a drop in the fountain that keeps life flowing
Constantly sprouting and ever-changing.
I’m the warm heart beating in all and every
Natural thing that exists
And will exist.
Are you still asleep?
Oh, you are waking up right now!
That’s wonderful!
If you’re not busy
You may come along
And see what’s happening to that old tree
Where, just some moments ago,
I was the only leaf.
Now I’m thousands of leaves
And flowers and fruits.
The tree is covered with leaves
And rejoices with new life.
Within it I hear the ticking of my tiny winged heart
The huge heart of the Gentle Spirit
And the eternal springing of the Fountain of Life.
«Is the story complete?»
No, of course not.
This is an endless story
As all the true stories…
São Ludovino, 5/3/2019
**************************************
Tireless Bloomers III, photography by São Ludovino.
