Thursday, April 24, 2014

Rest in peace Joe

I feel so sad right now. I just got the news that my dear friend and the amazing digital artist Joe Myers has passed away. I am so sad, but I knew his heart and it was beautiful so I consider myself lucky to have known him in this lifetime. He called me his muse and 'catalyst" and he based some works on my portrait. I love you Joe. 



Wednesday, April 23, 2014

RED FIRE DANCE

My heart has never been more free. My heart has never been this pure. My heart has never been this alive. My heart was never this big. My heart never knew this much. My heart could never reach these heights. My heart has never been more open. My heart has never been this wise. My heart has never felt this strong. My heart never had this shade of red. My blood was never this fresh. My heart could never know. That it could be my church. Every beat is a prayer for more. Of this red fire dance.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

LOVE, LIFE, SEX AND DEATH

In LOVE I want to feel so close to LIFE, the light and the intensity of the pure energy of my heartbeats - like a warm euphoria inside my bloodstream. But in SEX I want to feel mortal, to claw and dig my nails into DEATH with thunder and passion in my heart as I push myself through the layers of every day life into the mist of sexual ecstasy, as I look for the border that divides reality and dreams and the meeting point for my physical mortality and my spiritual immortality.

Another life to live




The doors to my past are slowly closing. I can no longer feel the cold draft in the back of my neck - or the shadow games behind my back when it's dark. I have spent two years of my life making deep research about myself in therapy. It's like I have met every ghost I have ever kept in my closet, I have given them all a face, a name and a significance. And a place to rest in peace. I have wandered inside my childhood like a familiar neighborhood within my heart, relived the memories of sadness and joy - the fears - and the love. I have visited the traumas of my adult life inside a haunted house of my mind with doors that have been open at times and opened by force at other times. But I've spent my nights and days there to see my life from the other side of time and space. I couldn't save myself then - but I have been able to save myself now.

And for the first time I don't want anyone else to save me. I don't need a hero. I have been my own hero without even noticing it. I'm not really there yet, I am standing in the bright starlight of my unknown future - but at least I can feel it's warmth and power against my face. The past is no longer mine to visit. Just a place with old memories that I have organized, cleaned and examined like a scientist.

To make this journey has been the best pain I have ever lived. And the biggest gift I could ever give myself. I'm no longer a victim or a survivor, but reborn and ready to live life as I know I am born to live. I am enlightened. Empowered. I know everything about myself and my life to this point now. Whatever happens in the future it can't be tangled up in old patterns or dig itself into the dark places from my past, because I know everything about myself now. I'm an expert of 'me' and there is nothing scary left to discover. Only the unfamiliar happiness of my future. And it's only scary because I don't know happiness well, but I am dying to drown in it. To be the heart inside it and let it be the heart inside me.

So many things have happened since I started this journey. I've grown so much, I've learned so much, I've made friends for life - outgrown ideals and ideas, I have expanded the mind and unfolded my heart like a curious artichoke - and I have loved like I have never loved before, I have forgiven, I have buried hate and conquered many fears. 

And the most important thing of all; I have found the voice of my core. And it speaks passion.

Wherever I am going from here I will let passion lead the way. And I have a long way to walk with fire as my companion. That's another chapter. Another story to tell. 

Another life to live.


Thursday, April 17, 2014

In the cracks of time

From my diary:

"You push my reality through all the layers of life, as if the moment is a collage of impressions and forced out to the surface to make a defined expression of it. Squeezing the wetness out of time, the marrow of life - the heart of my heart. In the cracks of the days we create our own Universe, tied to each other's minds, deeply connected through the dark light of the light darkness. With you I am so close to life that I can feel it pressed against my skin like a thin veil - loaded with static electricity." 

A perfect storm

My heart and a perfect storm.

The eye of a broken silence.

Shadows melting away with the hours.

Running.

So fast.

Moon head.

Fireflies comes with batteries.

Drunk on bottles of hair.

And you.

The rules and hearts are broken.

But the world healed and complete.


| MIA MAKILA

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

Golden miracles brûlé

Electronic blood.

Games of shadows and wind.

Golden miracles  brûlé.

A prize and seven living sins.

Notifications.

Dominatrix in blue.

Suffocations.

No barriers, only land.

Crumbling down.

Underworlds and underwear.

Mixed with broken china.

A lover's hat.

Inside another lover's pussy.

Polite seduction and overcooked rice.

Something something to do

With time.

And fire where it hurts.


| MIA MAKILA



Sunday, April 13, 2014

The table

YVES MONTAND WATCHING MARILYN MONROE WHO’S WATCHING ARTHUR MILLER WHO’S WATCHING SIMONE SIGNORET WHO’S WATCHING YVES MONTAND.


Wide open

"I can feel how my mind is expanding itself. It is wide open. I want to swallow the world inside it."


Honey

A world inside honey.
Deep nights,
nine moons away.


A place to rest.
A space to light.
A cross to burn.



My room of dripping honey.
Rain of sticky scent.

Love as sweet as darkness.
A parade of sugar flames.

Black. Black. Black.
And stars.

Bury me in the garden.
Melt with me in the heat.

A never ending torture.
Endless space of dreams.


| MIA MAKILA

Ocean of dreams

To live inside an ocean of dreams is to never know where the next wave will take you.


Friday, April 11, 2014

An open heart is not an invitation for destruction



I come from the cold winters of Sweden. I come from a country that has two concepts of laws; one is the traditional law of justice that keeps the citizens and the civilization in balance and the second concept of law we call "Jante" - and has been deeply rooted in the national mindset for generations. This law of Jante consists of 10 unspoken social rules:

The ten rules state:
  1. You're not to think you are anything special.
  2. You're not to think you are as good as we are.
  3. You're not to think you are smarter than we are.
  4. You're not to convince yourself that you are better than we are.
  5. You're not to think you know more than we do.
  6. You're not to think you are more important than we are.
  7. You're not to think you are good at anything.
  8. You're not to laugh at us.
  9. You're not to think anyone cares about you.
  10. You're not to think you can teach us anything.


The law of Jante is based on the idea that our success and happiness makes other people uncomfortable and offended. Sure, we are allowed to be happy and successful, as long as we keep it to ourselves. It's rude to show off, brag or flaunt with our assets (mentally, artistically, spiritually or economically) and it will only make the people around us feel jealous or inadequate. 

It basically says that if you are talented, smart or amazing, you're pretty much screwed.

I'm raised with this notion, it's running in my bloodstream, and it's hard to be a free spirit in Sweden because you know most people won't support your thinking outside the box. I've never had many friends here, I was a lonely child but not really unhappy about it because it allowed me to create my own world within myself and I would fill it with freedom and imagination.

However I could get pretty sad when I tried to share this self-created world with my classmates and friends, who immediately put their 'Jante Law Enforcement' uniforms on and showed their dislike with eye rolling, funny faces or games like 'let's pretend Mia is crazy or invisible'.

But even that I could handle, because I knew my inner world was a treasure, I felt rich and I felt like I had access to something they couldn't even see, feel or touch.

It was later in life that I encountered the pain that Jante can cause, because the Jante police among kids had turned into a military force for adults. A resistance with a mission to shut me up and to punish my rebellious attempts to outsmart the 10 rules of the Jante law, with humiliation, indifference and ignorance, in my love life, in my art career, at workplaces or just in life in general.

But I refuse to surrender. And for each resistance I meet, I will grow stronger, bloom even more wildly, break even more rules and challenge the system with even more motivation. I open my heart wider to the world. I use my vulnerability as one of my greatest assets. I let the world in. I let my love flow.

Just because I open my heart to the world, doesn't mean I am inviting it to destroy it. Just because I am free to be myself, doesn't mean I am a freak. And just because I chose to use vulnerability as an inner strength, doesn't mean that people may take advantage of that.

Why do people blame open people, like me, for being too loving, too caring, too open, too honest - and not the people who try to take advantage of that? Why should I be forced to change my amazingness and good nature to match the closed minds of the ones who are uncomfortable around me? It's not like they would ever change to match my open heart - or would they? Maybe this is what I want to ask with this post.

A challenge.

I don't want you to call me naive  - I want you to show me that you can open your heart, just a little bit more, because in the end - it's pretty much a win-win situation.

Don't blame an open heart. Respect it. Treasure it. Learn from it. Let it inspire you. Burn with it. Bleed with it. Cry with it. Laugh with it. Feel it. Love it. Celebrate it.

An open heart is not mine field, like a closed heart, it's a playground.

A place for games of passion and freedom, where no law is necessary, as long as it is treated with the respect it deserves.




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HEY - I'M ON TWITTER! <3 

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Thursday, April 10, 2014

Step 8 to reconnect body & mind: THE BANANA SYNDROME

RON ENGLISH - DANDY BANANA


I've been thinking a lot lately about how people always have seemed to be provoked by me. They say I am too open, too wild in my communication, they think I take up too much space, and that I'm basically too much.

For me, that is the biggest compliment I could ever receive, because it means that I am actually living my life, that I am a free spirit who's not trying to conform or adjust to the mainstream idea of how a woman/artist/person should act, think, feel. I am real, I am true to myself and not afraid to let other people see me. As a woman I am not afraid to take up space or make myself heard, as an artist I use my soul as raw material to use in everything I do, that makes me part of my art and vice versa. I can use my naked body, my face, my eyes, my hands, my mind, my soul and my core to make art, it all feels so natural and free to use as part of an artistic expression. I have limits just like everybody else, I have clear boundaries of what's ok or not, but I am not afraid of pushing them to allow myself to be more free and more brave in my human and artistic expression with who I am.

If I think of myself as a banana - where the peel is my body and the banana inside is my mind and soul. Now, if the peel had a zipper, which would open and close the peel (body), I know most people want me to zip up and not expose my soul too much. Because it makes them uncomfortable. But to zip up makes me feel uncomfortable. It suffocates me.






I've been writing about this a lot in my therapy research and I humorously call it 'THE BANANA SYNDROME', but it has a serious undertone. Because as happy I am to get a compliment about being 'too much' or taking up too much space, it has also caused me a great deal of pain and suffering throughout my life. I have been bullied, abused, misunderstood, ostracized, not accepted, disrespected, laughed at, questioned, ridiculed and humiliated because of it. But for me  - it has been worth it. Because if I stop being true to who I am, I let other people control my life. And that's what happened when I was abused, I totally lost myself and couldn't hear the voice of my core anymore. And it's been a long way back to being able to hear it again. That's why this reconnection with body and mind is so important. Because it has many levels, not only accepting my body and not drifting away in my mind as I use my body in places where I'm reminded by the trauma, but also in metaphors like this one.

To understand the connection between my mind and body I can also understand their interactions and how they compliment or struggle with each other in everything I do. The body is my shield, my house, my tent, my planet to live within, but also a map of memories of physical humiliation and violence, a representation that not always match what's inside, something that I allowed being controlled and used by other people because I was afraid of them. My body has not always been my own (the origin of the disconnection), whereas my mind has always been my home, my treasure, my Universe and my sanctuary where I have been escaping when my body has been forced to do things it didn't want to do.

That is why the banana metaphor is significant in my therapy work. I don't want to hide anymore, and I certainly don't want to censor myself or let people tell me what to do or what not to do - physically, verbally or artistically. 

My body, my mind, my soul, my core - it's all mine, and mine alone. Nobody can ever tell me how to use it, or tell me that I should hide it, protect it, show it, expose it, give it up, give it away, be ashamed of it, feel guilty for not being ashamed of it, change it or to zip up.

If I let other people control me or zip my peel - I'm not really living my life as just following other people's vision of what I am. I am the only boss of my body and mind. 

It took me much pain and suffering to understand the importance of showing my soft and delicious banana, hiding under the suffocating peel, but also to know when to zip up so the peel will protect what's inside. I trust myself to know the balance within the banana syndrome. It makes me in control of myself. And that makes me stronger than ever. To know the balance of daring to be weak and vulnerable  - and real - and the strength of not letting people take advantage of that. That is self-power.








Wednesday, April 9, 2014

EN LÄCKA | A LEAK

En läcka.
Yoghurtfläckar.
Trastens sång.

Våren som kommer och går.

Smärtan under huden.
Mosig som banan.

Svart sol.
Kolljus. 
Sjuder och dånar.

Flämtar av mörkt tvång.

Annars lider skuggan.
Dödar vägen med dans.

| MIA MAKILA


------


A leak.
Yogurt stains. 
Fresh as life itself.
Songs from the trush bird.
And the pain underneath the skin.
Like mashed banana.
Black sun.
Charcoal light waves.
Alive with thunder.
Breathing through a dark force.
Otherwise the shadows will suffer.
Killing the road with a dance.

| MIA MAKILA.

"LEARNED HELPLESSNESS"



Having a big Eureka moment in my therapy work! Within my diagnosis CPTSD [complex post traumatic stress disorder] there is something called *LEARNED HELPLESSNESS* and this is what I've been calling "mental paralyzation"! Since the trauma, I've felt quite helpless in general and that feeling of helplessness has only been more and more intensified over the years. Even if my life has been going in the right direction, and I've been successful with my art, I've still felt helpless and apathetic. This is why:

"When it comes to not being able to predict when positive events, the person with 'Learned Helplessness' doesn't respond with depression, however, with a disturbed motivation and cognition, and the person becomes equally apathetic. Especially if the people close to them reacts with indifference when trying to please them. "

/ "People with CPTSD has a general sense of hopelessness and a feeling that no events are predictable, which means that the person is experiencing life and the world as dangerous. "

This is an amazing progress in my therapy work! Because now I know that I'm not mentally paralyzed, I am not blocked in my art, I just haven't been dealing with this symptom, and of course it's all about breaking the pattern of 'learned helplessness' and to understand and learn that I am not helpless anymore and that good things can happen too, not only traumas.

And I've told you before, I have a new motto: THERE'S NO TRAUMA IN MY FUTURE! I will remind myself of this every day. And I'm gonna try and 'reprogram' my mind to learn to trust life and happiness again. This is an important day. This discovery will help me so much. 

Monday, April 7, 2014

About my artistic fragility


Yesterday, someone asked me: "why do you want to make yourself so vulnerable as an artist by telling the world about your creativity blockages, your struggle with your art and your artistic fragility?"


I answered:


"Because this is what it's like to be a true artist, if I would keep that to myself and pretend to the world that I am making art all the time, that my success is because of a constant flow of creativity, I would be lying and I can not be an artist who is lying, that would make my work insincere and fake. I want the world to understand the complexities and hard work that true artists put into their work and life - the struggle is there because you suddenly stop believing in yourself, you feel scared and lost, very lonely, and it can happen to anyone, not only to an artist, therefore it's important to share this with the world, because it's true and real and is nothing to be ashamed of. My art is about the true nature of the human soul. That's why I could never pretend that I am someone I'm not."


Saturday, April 5, 2014

Dreamwalking

I am a dream-walker. Not really moving, not ever resting. Clouds drift in slow motion, time measured in pain. The beauty of thunder. When it turns into birdsong on fire. Silence is a mirror for the passing of time. A bridge between memories and dreams. Not satisfied until it's erased by the harsh light from my window. No stars are born in rotten daylight anyway. I need to let go. Raw shadows decomposing inside. To have nothing. And still being able to build a moon. And light. Inside and outside a dream. 

Opening of Welcome to the Dreamtime group show in Brooklyn, NY

Here are some of the pictures I've found online of WELCOME TO THE DREAMTIME group show opening night at STEPHEN ROMANO GALLERY in Brooklyn, NY!  I'm so honored to be part of this artventure!  (my art can be seen in the first photos) 



















Thursday, April 3, 2014

River of red

Your were air. Your wind tainted my veins with life. Possessed by lust we danced on the shore. The darkness was never real there. On the island. In the noisy atmosphere inside a sea shell. Lovers of stars, moons and debris from broken dreams, floating across the dome above. No time for love. And no time for time. All that was left was an abandoned car, a burning silence and the sound of coconuts falling like hard rain. A dream later. I am still dressed in yearning. Eyes. Yes, yes - eyes. There. Looking. Almost cutting the world open like scissors. Everything is bleeding in perfect synchronization. The river of red. Is the new yellow brick road. Take me to the land of broken promises. Moments of endless possibilities. And still nothing. But the eyes. Oh, yes - the eyes - are still open. Like doors to whatever lies beneath. The lies.

Wednesday, April 2, 2014

ÄR MED I EN SKRIVARTÄVLING! (UTMANINGEN: SKRIV EN NOVELL I EN ENDA MENING)

"Som alltid på söndagar gick hon ut genom dörren och vandrade rakt fram utan att stanna, barfota på våt asfalt, mjuk mossa som grön bomull, rakt över motorvägen, hård som döden, förbi främlingar som alla bar på någon slags sanning om henne själv, genom ljudet av visselpipor, måsar och taxibilar, bort där det doftade lögn och skrik födda ur underlivet, ända bort till fruktaffären där hon drunknande i det starka solljuset som om hon aldrig hade funnits på riktigt ändå."

/MIA MAKILA, 2014