Monday, July 10, 2006

Saudade


Recortei este artigo de uma revista ha varios meses, escrito por Teresa Paula Marques Mestre em Psicopatologia e Psicologia,que me tocou profundamente, e hoje e na verdade o momento ideal para o transcrever aqui no meu cantinho.Nem a proposito,nao e verdade Jessica???????
I miss you a lot,sweetie!

Dizem que a palavra saudade apenas existe em portugues.Desconheco como e que os outros povos conseguem exprimir por palavras algo que e muito mais do que uma falta,uma ausencia,nostalgia ou qualquer outro substantivo.Trata-se de uma dor associada a perda,a certeza da impossibilidade de resgatar o instante vivido.O filosofo Heraclito disse um dia:"Nao consegues banhar-te duas vezes no mesmo rio,pois outras aguas e ainda outras vao sempre fluindo.E na mudanca que as coisas encontram o repouso",de facto,tudo muda,nada permanece.Nessa mudanca,as coisas encontram o seu repouso e,no repouso,reside a saudade.Somos inundados de saudade quando folheamos albuns de fotografias,sentimos determinados cheiros ou ouvimos certas musicas.Nesse instante,nao precisamos de uma maquina de tempo pois,de imediato,somos transportados para aquela epoca.podemos, tambem,ter saudades do futuro.Daquilo que poderiamos ter vivido mas que a morte,ou a perda,nas suas multiplas formas,nao nos permitiu viver.Imaginamos o futuro de modo idealizado.Pensamos que tudo poderia ter sido diferente,se as circunstancias assim o tivessem permitido.Lamentamos nao nos ter sido possivel mostrar claramente aqueles que partiram precocemente o quanto os amavamos,nao lhes termos dito o quao importantes foram para nos,o que aprendemos com eles,a falta que agora nos faz sentir o calor do seu olhar,o toque,o perfume.Sentimos tambem saudades da infancia,da epoca em que o mundo parecia pintado de rosa.Do tempo em que podiamos viver sem pressas e chorar sem constrangimentos.Quando o colo dos nossos pais era um porto seguro onde nos podiamos abrigar e lamentar as nossas pequenas dores.Saudades tambem do ultimo Natal em que conseguimos reunir toda a familia,em que os doces foram confeccionados en casa(em vez de comprados numa grande superficie,o avo se vestiu de Pai Natal,os presentes embrulhados um a um com o carinho de quem quer dar algo personalizado,escrevemos postais ou telefonamos a todos aqueles que ocupam um lugar importante dentro do nosso peito(nao recebemos 50 SMS com o mesmo texto,nem ficamos com a certeza de termos sido reduzidos com uma tecla do telemovel que se comprimiu porque a epoca assim o exige.Certo que a saudade doi,mas e a prova inequivoca de que as coisas nos tocaram profundamente,que amamos muito do que tivemos e,por isso,lamentamos o que de bom fomos perdendo ao longo da vida.Como alguem escreveu um dia"Quantas vezes tenho vontade de encontrar nao sei o que,nao sei onde,para resgatar alguma coisa que nem sei o que e e nem onde a perdi".

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Welcome back!

Hoje e' um dia diferente no blog Gostar de Viver, pois nao e' a nossa querida Teresa a postar, mas sim, a filha Jessica.
Quero fazer uma pequena surpresa a mama antes de ela chegar do hospital (realizou uma pequena cirurgia e teve de passar la a noite, para aqueles que nao sabem..). Felizmente correu tudo bem! :o)
Entao, aqui vai, espero que gostem, e especialmente espero que a minha mae goste!



I can forgive, but I cannot forget, is only another way of saying, I will not forgive. Forgiveness ought to be like a cancelled note - torn in two, and burned up, so that it never can be shown against one.

Henry Ward Beecher

When you forgive, you in no way change the past - but you sure do change the future.

Bernard Meltzer

There are certain people that mark our lives. You are one of them. Forgiveness is all I ask - for what I have done, for what I do and for what I will do. We live and we learn. I know I can't change the past, but, like the saying says, we can change the future - together! So, let's move on, get over it, tear it in two and burn it as if it was a piece of paper.

Get well soon! :o) (I'm sure you will......)


Friday, June 09, 2006

DUST IN THE WIND...........THAT'S ALL WE ARE!




I close my eyes
Only for a moment, then the moment's gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind

All they are is dust in the wind
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind, ohh

Now, don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind

Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
The wind

- Kansas -

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Goo Goo Dolls & Sarah McLachlan (City Of Angels)

"CITY OF ANGELS" what a movie.......

Tuesday, June 06, 2006


Nunca te detenhas!
Tem sempre presente que a pele vai ficando enrugada, que o cabelo se torna branco, que os dias se vão convertendo em anos, mas o mais importante não muda! A tua força interior e as tuas convicções não têm idade. O teu espírito é o espanador de qualquer teia de aranha. Atrás de cada linha de chegada, há uma de partida. Atrás de cada trunfo, há outro desafio. Enquanto estiveres vivo, sente-te vivo. Se sentes saudades do que fazias, torna a fazê-lo.
Não vivas de fotografias amareladas. Continua, apesar de alguns esperarem que abandones. Não deixes que se enferruje o ferro que há em ti. Faz com que, em lugar de pena, as pessoas sintam respeito por ti. Quando, pelos anos, não consigas correr, trota. Quando não possas trotar, caminha. Quando não possas caminhar, usa a bengala. Mas nunca te detenhas!
Madre Teresa de Calcutá
(1910-1997)
:
Fonte: Correio do Vouga

Sunday, June 04, 2006

Aphrodite's Child - Spring, summer, winter and fall

Thursday, May 25, 2006



The Sandpiper by Robert Peterson

She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.

"Hello," she said.

I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.

"I'm building," she said.

"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring.

"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand."

That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes.

A sandpiper glided by.

"That's a joy," the child said.

"It's a what?"

"It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy."

The bird went gliding down the beach. Good-bye joy, I muttered to myself, hello pain, and turned to walk on. I was depressed, my life seemed completely out of balance.

"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up.

"Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson."

"Mine's Wendy... I'm six."

"Hi, Wendy."

She giggled. "You're funny," she said.

In spite of my gloom, I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.

"Come again, Mr. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."

The next few days consisted of a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, and an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. I need a sandpiper, I said to myself, gathering up my coat.

The ever-changing balm of the seashore awaited me. The breeze was chilly but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed.

"Hello, Mr. P," she said. "Do you want to play?"

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance.

"I don't know. You say."

"How about charades?" I asked sarcastically.

The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is."

"Then let's just walk."

Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. "Where do you live?" I asked.

"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages.

Strange, I thought, in winter.

"Where do you go to school?"

"I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation."

She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home.

"Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today." She seemed unusually pale and out of breath.

"Why?" she asked.

I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and thought, My God, why was I saying this to a little child?

"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day."

"Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and -- oh, go away!"

"Did it hurt?" she inquired.

"Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself.

"When she died?"

"Of course it hurt!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.

A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there. Feeling guilty, ashamed, and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey-colored hair opened the door.

"Hello," I said, "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was."

"Oh yes, Mr. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies."

"Not at all -- she's a delightful child." I said, suddenly realizing that I meant what I had just said.

"Wendy died last week, Mr. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you."

Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. I had to catch my breath.

"She loved this beach, so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." Her voice faltered, "She left something for you, if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?"

I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope with "MR. P" printed in bold childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues -- a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed:

A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I uttered over and over, and we wept together. The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words -- one for each year of her life -- that speak to me of harmony, courage, and undemanding love.

A gift from a child with sea blue eyes and hair the color of sand -- who taught me the gift of love.

NOTE: This is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It happened over 20 years ago and the incident changed his life forever. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other. The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.

Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a momentary setback or crisis.

This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means, take a moment... even if it is only ten seconds, to stop and smell the roses.

This comes from someone's heart, and is read with many and now I share it with you...

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

AMAR

Eu quero amar, amar perdidamente!
Amar só por amar: Aqui...além...
Mais Este e Aquele, o Outro e toda a gente
Amar!Amar!E não amar ninguém!


Recordar?Esquecer?Indiferente!...
Prender ou desprender?É mal?É bem?
Quem disser que se pode amar alguém
Durante a vida inteira é porque mente!


Há uma Primavera em cada vida:
É preciso cantá-la assim florida,
Pois se Deus nos deu voz, foi pra cantar!


E se um dia hei-de ser pó,cinza e nada
Que seja a minha noite uma alvorada,
Que me saiba perder... pra me encontrar...


"Amar" de Florbela Espanca

Monday, May 22, 2006

Please don't drink and drive!!!!!!!!

WENT TO A PARTY, MOM

I went to a party,
And remembered what you said.
You told me not to drink,
Mom,So I had a sprite instead.

I felt proud of myself,
The way you said I would,
That I didn't drink and drive,
Though some friends said I should.

I made a healthy choice,
And your advice to me was right.
The party finally ended,
And the kids drove out of sight.

I got into my car,
Sure to get home in one piece.
I never knew what was coming,
Mom,Something I expected least.

Now I'm lying on the pavement,
And I hear the policeman say,
The kid that caused this wreck was drunk,
Mom, his voice seems far away.

My own blood's all around me,
As I try hard not to cry.
I can hear the paramedic say,
This girl is going to die.

I'm sure the guy had no idea,
While he was flying high.
Because he chose to drink and drive,
Now I would have to die.

So why do people do it, Mom
Knowing that it ruins lives?
And now the pain is cutting me,
Like a hundred stabbing knives.

Tell sister not to be afraid, Mom
Tell daddy to be brave.
And when I go to heaven,
Put "Mommy's Girl" on my grave.

Someone should have taught him,
That it's wrong to drink and drive.
Maybe if his parents had,
I'd still be alive.

My breath is getting shorter,
Mom I'm getting really scared.
These are my final moments,
And I'm so unprepared.

I wish that you could hold me Mom,
As I lie here and die.
I wish that I could say, "I love you, Mom!"
So I love you and good-bye.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006


A Mother, A Daughter

A daughter - to a mother
Is a mirrored image of herself
She sees the same face
She feels the same hurt

A mother to a daughter
Is a cruel reminder
Of things to come
She sees the same face
She feels the same hurt

Why, when the two stand together
Can’t they see
The mirrored image
The cruel reminder
The only see authority
They only see rebellion

When does the distance
Between them seem so far
Yesterday they walked together
Yesterday they talked together
Two minds, one thought
A mother, a daughter

What makes a mother
Forget that she was young
She made so many mistakes
She cried a stream of tears
Only to land on her two feet
All of it now behind her.

What makes a daughter
Wish that she was grown
Away from her mother’s loving arms
Standing by herself
Not needing anyone
Making her own choices

A daughter to a Mother
Is the greatest gift God gives
A chance to change destiny
Prove herself better
The life she wished she’d lived

A mother ­ to a daughter,
Is a fortress to conquer
A wall to climb over
Prove herself better
Make a life that’s all her own.

[ Author unknown -- E-Mail Ministry ]

Sunday, May 14, 2006

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY !!!!!!!

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER - by Erma Bombeck (written after she found out she was dying from cancer).

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner."

There would have been more "I love you's" More "I'm sorry's."

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute...look at it and really see it. live it and never give it back.

STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!!!Don't worry about who doesn't like you , who has more, or who's doing what Instead, let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us. Let's think about what God HAS blessed us with, and what we are doing each day to promote ourselves mentally, physically, emotionally. I hope you have a blessed day.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

I hope these few minutes will give you the peace of mind you have been looking for......


http://www.pathways-to-peace.com/popframeset.html

Sunday, April 23, 2006

24 de Abril...para mim, decerto, um dia muito especial.......................Nasci!
VALE APENAS VIVER
Quero poder um dia,
Sentar em um campo de flores
E sentir que valeu apenas viver.
Quero subir a mais alta montanha,
Encontrar minha paz, Construir o meu reino,
E sentir que valeu apenas viver.
Quero beber da mais límpida água,
Dominar e ser dominado pelo mais puro sentimento,
Quero amar e ser amado pela mais bela mulher,
E sentir que valeu apenas viver.
Quero viver e quando estiver no final,
Olhar para trás e dizer.
Valeu apenas viver.


http://poemasfixes.no.sapo.pt


I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see.

John Burroughs

This life is worth living, we can say, since it is what we make it.

William James

Thursday, April 06, 2006

New York City (a.k.a. The Big Apple)

Como se fala de ferias por ai, decidi fazer uma pequena "viagem" convosco a minha cidade preferida que recordo com bastante saudade, mas que, se Deus quiser estarei la em breve -- New York.

To all my friends and family on the other side, hopefully, very soon, we will be there having a great time, like always....

New York Skyline

Statue of Liberty
Metropolitan Museum of Arts (The Met)

Rockefeller Centre

Central Park

Times Square

Botanical Gardens in Brooklyn


ENJOY!

Sunday, April 02, 2006

Friendship


A true friend never gets in your way unless you happen to be going down.
-Arnold H. Glasow





(Picture was taken from www.olhares.com and its autor is Kazuo Okubo.)

Monday, March 20, 2006

Praia

Na luz oscilam os múltiplos navios
Caminho ao longo dos oceanos frios

As ondas desenrolam os seus braços
E brancas tombam de bruços

A praia é lis e longa sob o vento
Saturada de espaços e maresia

E para trás fica o murmúrio
Das ondas enroladas como búzios.

Sophia de Mello Breyner

Para comemorar o dia da poesia, nada melhor que um poema de uma grande escritora portuguesa que admiro e que infelizmente ja partiu...

P.S. Para informacoes acerca da Sophia, deixo-vos aqui uns links interessantes..
http://www.mulheres-ps20.ipp.pt/SophiaMBreyner.htm
http://www.astormentas.com/andresen.htm
http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sophia_de_Mello_Breyner_Andresen
In english:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sophia_de_Mello_Breyner_Andresen

Sunday, March 19, 2006

Forever And Ever
by Demis Roussos




Ever and ever, forever and ever you'll be the one
that shines in me like the morning sun.
Ever and ever, forever and ever you'll be my spring,
my rainbow's end and the song I sing.
Take me far beyond imagination.
You're my dream come true, my consolation.
Ever and ever, forever and ever you'll be my dream,
my symphony, my own lover's theme.
Ever and ever, forever and ever my destiny
will follow you eternally.
Take me far beyond imagination.
You're my dream come true, my consolation.
Ever and ever, forever and ever you'll be the one
that shines in me like the morning sun.
Ever and ever, forever and ever my destiny
will follow you eternally.


Quero dedicar esta musica ao pai extraordinario dos meus tres filhos..o meu marido.
Feliz dia do Pai a todos os Portugueses!