Rédigé par - corOllule dU cHamp Du pOirier - le e
Buddha died on a Sunday. Every Sunday I cry. And also a little, sometimes, the other days. Whenever the memory comes back to me from a little ermine rabbit, with blue eyes circled in black, who will not come back to me anymore.
Come to my feet to smell the parfum of the banana I am peeling, at the foot of my bed to see if I'm awake, at the foot of a piece of furniture, the tooth nearby and prompt to lacerate its wood, in case that her request of attention would'nt succeed.
I cry over my sadness, my lack, her absence, her lot as a pet. A fluffy little thing, so sweet and vulnerable, so innocent and mischievous, so cuddly and fierce. I mourn her last weeks when her heart had let go before everything else, organ at the deadline much shorter than all the others.
Two weeks earlier, she was still tirelessly revolving around Raymond, her stuffed toy, running after him, leaping from one room to another to find him, chew him, boxer him and submit him. Two weeks later ... no more mustache, no more tender grunts between hundred "honk-honk", no more warm and so soft belly, no more breath, no more life.
Four months later, one hundred and thirteen days after, she is still there in my paws, hung up to the memory of a wool pull that she had added to her collection of blankies and loved to unravel. She's still waiting for me at the corner of a curtain, behind which she was hiding. Or at the end of the corridor where she liked to venture, in the secret idea of jumping off, even just three seconds, on the duvet of the forbidden bedroom.
The whole apartment is still breathing her last breath. The changes in layout of the furniture in the living room don't work. At least, that has only invented the regret of not seeing her frolicking in there, whirling, twirling and spining round on the carpets, rolling in a plaid, throwing herself on the side against a cushion. There is so much space now...
Around her, space and time had changed. Nothing or almost didn't whiz the nine years of life with her. Before meeting her, I had already lost both of my parents, none of their disappearance made me suffer as much as hers. She shared my intimacy as no member of my family will ever do. And from now on, this dwelling, this living space wedged between the north and the south will it serve only to pour out my sorrow...
Despite this grey perspective, I am relieved. The summer has been less noisy than feared but the unbearable heat by salvo had not to be supported by my little Pebble. This period has always been painful, where she could only lie down and wait, endure the moment by counting on my tinkering refreshment systems.
Rabbit of an apartment, alone without congener, having for all horizon those four walls, ignoring the comfort of a companion, the adventure of maternity, the responsibility of the education of her little ones, always in the frustration of her social mammal instincts. Extracted from her natural environment since always, away from raw matter, earthy, vegetal, within reach of her claws, her needs of builder underground.
My little Pebble is gone.
The feeling of coming back from afar has enveloped me, without distinguishing from where exactly, with before me the beginning of a path that continues to go nowhere and along which the necessity to take breaks does not dry up.
Each day plants in my stomach the root of a future, with buds lodged in another dimension, like a distant mystical land whose religion or jargon I do not grasp. Other anxieties begin, increase, take over, prevent full looseness, over and over. And the desire to turn back, to retreat or to escape continues to hit me.
So, at my age, what other way to close the passage than to pack ?
Rédigé par - corOllule dU cHamp Du pOirier - le e
This makes a long time that I look for a lips care which repair perfectly the delicate skin of lips. Mine are always dry and rough, despite of what I can apply on it. So I have decided to make it myself, and a creamy glossy one, but simple and natural. This is a first try and first success.
I used to buy very good organic products for my lips, but I have never get the same result as industrial cosmetics give. When I was young, I always had a Dermophil Indien in my bag. It made miracles on my lips, until I became allergic of the balm of Peru.
Today, I also know that those kind of cosmetic cares contain petrochemical ingredients like vaseline and paraffin, and others things like alcohols and esterified acids. Or for the pink version, this aluminum lake of erythrosine, named E127, which is a potentially carcinogenic dye.
So, after this short state of play, here my recipe :
- 5ml of Castor oil
- 5ml of Coco oil
- 2ml of Beeswax
- 5ml of Aloe Vera
- A pigment knife tip
- A drop of vit. E
- 20 drops of Grapefruit seed extract
Melt the wax and the oils in a bain-marie over very low heat. Add the pigment in this phase.
For my part, I took a natural eye shadow from Benecos, the Happy Hour, which is a satined dark purple. It brings a mauve reflection in a nude style that suits my complexion.
Remove from heat when the pigments are well dissolved and wait until the mixture drops slightly in temperature. Then, graddually pour the aloe, whisking vigorously from the outside to the inside. The mixture whitens and becomes unctuous. At the end, add the drops of Vit. E and grapefruit seed extract.
Put in a little jar and let cool completely.
We get a creamy butter that repairs, smoothes, softens and protects all day, with a nice gloss effect that has a very good performance.
Applied in the evening before going to sleep, it makes soft and smooth lips for the morning.
Now, focus on the ingredients :
- Softening, slightly purifying and film-forming for a protective and shiny effect, the Castor oil ensures a good dispersion of the pigments.
- Coco is a nourishing, soothing, restorative oil for chapped, dry, damaged skin. Shea butter or Kokum butter can replace it or be mixed with it in a proportion depending of the consistency wanted.
- Natural thickener, texture agent, the beeswax increases properties of the oils and its film-forming power. It also stabilizes the emulsion while bringing a silky touch. Rich in esters and fatty acids, it has been used for 2000 years for its healing and anti-inflammatory properties. In a vegan version, carnauba wax can be an alternative, in a smaller proportion however.
- Aloe vera gel is a treasure of benefits, rich in vitamins and trace elements, it moisturizes, soothes, repairs, regenerates and protects.
- Vitamin E is a powerful antioxidant which has here the functionof preservative. But I think we can do without it given the antioxidant and purifying properties already contained in the other ingredients.
It can be kept for two to three months in the fridge.
To color this sweet cloud of sparkling butter, you can use other solutions such as cocoa powder, beet juice or dried hibiscus flower. Beside, this latter also has antioxidant, moisturizing, softening and revitalizing.
To perfume or enhance the properties of this homemade care, many choices of essential oils are disposal such as vanilla, rose, geranium or more sweet orange.
Rédigé par - corOllule dU cHamp Du pOirier - le e
When I was a child, about seven years old, I was jalous about my sister who began to learn English. This language appeared to me with sunny and brightly colors. Yes, I see colors on each vowels and consonants. And at this time, french was dark, grey and a sad way to talk.
French was the language of the bible, of the pastor's sermon every Sabbath morning, of the argues between my parents, of the children at school who called me "Serpent à lunettes", "Jambes d'allumettes", "Trisomie 21" or "Bâtons de tambour".
Yes, I weared glasses, I got almond eyes and a very straight hair at this time. Which, by the way, is a little bit wird considering my curly hair today. I was also smaller than the other kids of my age, all the more so because of my anorexia.
On the other hand, English was the language of those mysterious words embedded in some scenes in Charlie Chaplin's movies that I could see on the french public tv each Christmas. Evenly the language of Mowgli and Mary Poppins, of those movie stars such as Marilyn Monroe in Some Like It Hot or Dustin Hofman in Little Big Man.
To pronounce this sweet and singing language was, and still be, a real enjoyness for my mouth. I don't exagerate. In a way, this is a body language. And the pictures the english words create in my mind, as well as the links between ideas, are more close to my way of thinking, and logical to me, than French.
I have been liking my mother tongue only recently, since about ten years, through my blogging activity which makes me read more and work on a text for a long time before publishing it. But I love English for fourty years. And this summer, I have choosen to study it again.
Firstable, to become able to understand international anglophone web ressources, like news and receipes, Yoga and DIY videos, films, series or documentories. Knowing that 54% of the websites content are in English and the English-speaking population online was about 873 millions in 2015, with growth of 300% the last ten years...
It would be second to none to explore all that without subtitles. And secondly, of course, to be able to speak fluently.
In a legitimate way, the prevalence of English in many domains can be seen as a problem and criticized. It is necessary indeed to help the others languages proportion increase. I would'nt like to see French disappear from screens.
In fact, I contribute with my blog to the contrary and also to its evolution, in particular through the inclusive writing that I defend ardently.
But this is not the point, this is about learning several languages. English is a first choice for me, but then no question to stop, because I will be even more able to learn languages which are close to it, for example Japanese... Or why not Korean !
A few studies prove today that speaking different languages maintains a healthy brain, produces new neuronal connections, preserves from degerenative diseases and makes people be more curious and tolerant.
Who knows, perhaps it will also open doors on my jobseeker route.
In the meantime, I love to think in, read and listen to the language of Virginia Woolf, Mark Twain, William Egglestone or even Jane Jacobs. But here I am going to do the effort to write too, regularly, that will make me do some research on my own, as I always do obviously, but it would be supplementary usefull homework besides my english class.
So, this is the first article, hoping of a long list which will be less and less full of mistakes and clumsiness... and perhaps more and more stylish.