AVEM TIMP ...?

..Am invatat ca indiferent cat de mult suferi,
Lumea nu se va opri in loc pentru durerea ta."

TIMP, pierdut, regasit, prins strans intre pumni ca un fluture zdrobit, in fata caruia respiram pentru a-l readuce la viata. TIMP, care zboara pe langa noi, ca un tren care ne-a lovit de mult, TIMP, in fata caruia te opresti, incremenit in tacere, TIMP, care te loveste cu toate raspunsurile pe care nu vrei sa le auzi, pe care nu le auzi, oricat de aproape ar fi de inima ta,  TIMP, in care uitam, tot ce a fost mai drag, tot ce a fost mai frumos, TIMP in care uitam sa iubim, in care uitam sa ne privim in oglinzi, prea absorbiti in iluziile noastre, prea absorbiti in ... TIMP.

De ce mai avem timp cand suntem zdrobiti de el? Orice am face, orice pas, e gresit. Orice am pronunta, sau nu am spune, e prea intim, prea vulnerabil, prea adanc, pentru a mai putea fi auzit si inteles de partea cealalta. Si e ironic, si e ciudat, pentru ca acum zidurile tale au cazut si ai lasat acea portita deschisa, si ai dat totul pentru a fi invinsa. Loneliness will always be here ... But I think I was right even here, on my deepest wound, I think I was right.  Ai indraznit prea mult. Ai sperat prea mult. Ai crezut prea mult. Ziduri ce cad, ziduri de gheata ce se aseaza la picioare, doar pentru a vedea cum toti se indeparteaza. Ziduri care asteapta, un singur cuvant, o singura mana, care asteapta sa fi acceptat, asa cum esti. Cu ce am gresit? Este oare un singur lucru pe care nu l-am facut gresit? Timp, in care fugi, in care ramai singur, in care ironiile sunt prea crude chiar si pentru tine insati, in care singurul lucru pe care il ai (inca il mai ai) esti tu insati.

Avem timp ... sa ne pierdem, sa cadem, sa asteptam o mana si sa primim o palma. Sa ne jucam cu destinul si sa-l refuzam. E timp sa se intoarca si sa-ti arate ca el e aici, ca orice ai face, nu poti iesi din el si din ... timp.

Avem timp

Octavian Paler

Avem timp pentru toate.
Sa dormim, sa alergam in dreapta si-n stanga,
sa regretam c-am gresit si sa gresim din nou,
sa-i judecam pe altii si sa ne absolvim pe noi insine,
avem timp sa citim si sa scriem,
sa corectam ce-am scris, sa regretam ce-am scris,
avem timp sa facem proiecte si sa nu le respectam,
avem timp sa ne facem iluzii si sa rascolim prin cenusa lor mai tarziu.
Avem timp pentru ambitii si boli,
sa invinovatim destinul si amanuntele,
avem timp sa privim norii, reclamele sau un accident oarecare,
avem timp sa ne-alungam intrebarile, sa amanam raspunsurile,
avem timp sa sfaramam un vis si sa-l reinventam,
avem timp sa ne facem prieteni, sa-i pierdem,
avem timp sa primim lectii si sa le uitam dupa-aceea,
avem timp sa primim daruri si sa nu le-ntelegem.
Avem timp pentru toate.
Nu e timp doar pentru putina tandrete.
Cand sa facem si asta – murim.
Am invatat unele lucruri in viata pe care vi le impartasesc si voua !!
Am invatat ca nu poti face pe cineva sa te iubeasca
Tot ce poti face este sa fii o persoana iubita.
Restul … depinde de ceilalti.
Am invatat ca oricat mi-ar pasa mie
Altora s-ar putea sa nu le pase.
Am invatat ca dureaza ani sa castigi incredere
Si ca doar in cateva secunde poti sa o pierzi
Am invatat ca nu conteaza CE ai in viata
Ci PE CINE ai.
Am invatat ca te descurci si ti-e de folos farmecul cca 15 minute
Dupa aceea, insa, ar fi bine sa stii ceva.
Am invatat ca nu trebuie sa te compari cu ceea ce pot altii mai bine sa faca
Ci cu ceea ce poti tu sa faci
Am invatat ca nu conteaza ce li se intampla oamenilor
Ci conteaza ceea ce pot eu sa fac pentru a rezolva
Am invatat ca oricum ai taia
Orice lucru are doua fete
Am invatat ca trebuie sa te desparti de cei dragi cu cuvinte calde
S-ar putea sa fie ultima oara cand ii vezi
Am invatat ca poti continua inca mult timp
Dupa ce ai spus ca nu mai poti
Am invatat ca eroi sunt cei care fac ce trebuie, cand trebuie
Indiferent de consecinte
Am invatat ca sunt oameni care te iubesc
Dar nu stiu s-o arate
Am invatat ca atunci cand sunt suparat am DREPTUL sa fiu suparat
Dar nu am dreptul sa fiu si rau
Am invatat ca prietenia adevarata continua sa existe chiar si la distanta
Iar asta este valabil si pentru iubirea adevarata
Am invatat ca, daca cineva nu te iubeste cum ai vrea tu
Nu inseamna ca nu te iubeste din tot sufletul.
Am invatat ca indiferent cat de bun iti este un prieten
Oricum te va rani din cand in cand
Iar tu trebuie sa-l ierti pentru asta.
Am invatat ca nu este intotdeauna de ajuns sa fii iertat de altii
Cateodata trebuie sa inveti sa te ierti pe tine insuti
Am invatat ca indiferent cat de mult suferi,
Lumea nu se va opri in loc pentru durerea ta.
Am invatat ca trecutul si circumstantele ti-ar putea influenta
personalitatea
Dar ca TU esti responsabil pentru ceea ce devii
Am invatat ca, daca doi oameni se cearta, nu inseamna ca nu se iubesc
Si nici faptul ca nu se cearta nu dovedeste ca se iubesc.
Am invatat ca uneori trebuie sa pui persoana pe primul loc
Si nu faptele sale
Am invatat ca doi oameni pot privi acelasi lucru
Si pot vedea ceva total diferit
Am invatat ca indiferent de consecinte
Cei care sunt cinstiti cu ei insisi ajung mai departe in viata
Am invatat ca viata iti poate fi schimbata in cateva ore
De catre oameni care nici nu te cunosc.
Am invatat ca si atunci cand crezi ca nu mai ai nimic de dat
Cand te striga un prieten vei gasi puterea de a-l ajuta.
Am invatat ca scrisul
Ca si vorbitul
Poate linisti durerile sufletesti
Am invatat ca oamenii la care tii cel mai mult
Iti sunt luati prea repede …
Am invatat ca este prea greu sa-ti dai seama
Unde sa tragi linie intre a fi amabil, a nu rani oamenii si a-ti sustine parerile.
Am invatat sa iubesc
Ca sa pot sa fiu iubit.

 

One Glimpse Behind Walls

Hush! Don’t you talk, don’t you say a word. The world isn’t using words after midnight, just whispers behind locked doors, just tip-toes behind those frozen walls.

The light is off and nobody is here except us and our ghosts. Take a sit. No, not tonight, no more fights between us now, no more chess, no more swimming, no more building silence. You don’t let me talk and you have taken the best decision, I know, so tonight I shall talk with you, because I really NEED to talk right now.

Who am I, my dear old friend? I am just a person in this entire world, who is having her life at a certain time, in a certain space. I love many things and I give love and protection to all the beings who means something to me. I used to believe in humans, in this world, in family, in goals. I used to laugh with all my heart and run and jump. It didn’t matter that sometimes my knees were injures, I was having energy and I was happy. Because people were here, and do you remember that back then we were one? Because I thought that people understand my feelings and see me as I am, with my good and my bad, and will always be here to encourage me. But they didn’t see, they didn’t feel me, and they criticized. But because of you, I went on.

Do you know why I hate you so much? Because there are moments when I feel that the white page is the best friend that I have. And this is because of you, because even now, I use your hands to bleed. On a white page. But I love you too, for your strength, for what you have been doing for me these months, for staying with me, now, and then, for giving me your energy … yes, I know, people don’t know me. They only see you. and today, when trains hit me with all their force, my own energy is dead. I am leaning on you, although we fight every night… no, don’t speak now, just listen. Because I have always needed to talk. And you were the only one who listened. So old friend, LIFE, I want to talk you about LIFE. And hybris. What means Life? And now, just let me go behind walls and just let me be myself, pure, vulnerable, hit, lost, just let me go behind your line. Will you be so kind to let me do this?

Life means ABANDONMENT. People abandon their goals one by one, saying to themselves that they cannot do it, people let time and happiness (oh, yes, happiness, you heard me well) steal their dreams. People love. In their bizarre way. But they abandon even the things that they adore. They have problems and run in themselves, they meet new people, new days, they leave the past behind. They abandon friends in their illusion of living, and they create their own world. Family. The place where the word abandonment shouldn’t exist. But it is here, and it hits the innocent ones. Because people are always selfish and ignore the ones around them. When was the last time when they looked at us? They have their own universe and they think everyone wants what they want, they think that creating a human being is the end of all problems. How much can we know our kid, how much pain can we give to him, how deep wounds can we cause him?... Abandonment. Central word here, epitome for everything. Goals, friends, family, pets, us.

People let themselves swallowed by … people. They give up to what they are, to their values, to their principles for others, they forget themselves and change them, running from their Ego until they reach a line … and when they reach it, they find pain. But I bet they will forget it, because they shall have other things to abandon too…

They gravitate around their own Ego. Selfish beings. They don’t see the ones around them, as I have probably said before, and are superficial, SO SUPERFICIAL and IGNORANT! They go on from one moment to another, they don’t care, they want to be happy. And happy is a simple word in the human word: have a house, get married, have kids, have a good income. That’s all. Aren’t we simple? And you want more … what do you want more? Why don’t you want happiness and why do you … no, actually I am scared. Of your being, of differences …

We paint our world and we want to fill the emptiness from ourselves, we fight and protect our values, our dear ones, but every new day can bring another good-bye to noise, every new day and event assures us that no one escapes destiny and in this night and in these tears, you hear silence. No words, no gestures, no understanding. Just silence. Do you hear it too? Frozen walls, where this silence is so noisy.

The world has so many colors and still the world can be so tiny for some people. You like this word, don’t you? Tiny … tiny gestures, tiny beings, tiny feelings … hush tonight, because tonight I am not judging you and I am not fighting with you. because you are right and you are the only thing, or person that I have, how sad it may sound, how defeating it may be. You are right.

The world is chaos. Empty places with empty feelings, joy of moments, illusions of life. Tonight I just want somebody to be here, next to me, and talk. About life. A tiny word, just 4 letters, with a huge meaning. What you give, what you value, what they see, what is here in you?

Who are we? We have goals. Life hit, you screamed, goals remained, and one small wall arose. You hit so strong abandonment … we shall not abandon dear ones, we shall not abandon what we are, even if the Silence is so deep. Ignorance, superficiality, blindness, ephemeral relations, NO. But we live in a society and the world hit me. And the ones that I love hit me. And you stopped me ...  do you remember how you stopped me that day, several years ago, when you whispered near my ear “I have so many things to offer”? Do you remember this March, in that park, when I was so insane, when I was so open and hurt and I thought even you aren’t Real, when I just wanted an End? You made me stay in coldness for more than 3 hours, doing nothing, just watching how people run from cold, how we stay, how the wind is blowing and it is snowing, like the tears that they were running in my soul, and you made me look at the branch of trees, going up, and up, trying to reach the sky? And you sat near me, as you sit tonight, and touched my shoulder and said: “This Silence and this Coldness is you. And it isn’t so bad, is it?”

... There is a broken part here. And a broken part down, and a broken here, and a broken part there. Like a mirror who had fallen, I am broken into pieces and the only thing that I can do now and forever is to hide what you know, what you feel, what deep inside you are. Cause this is what I am, and this is what you protect. A broken being, caught in a hybris.

No dance tonight. No chess.  I love this world and I love its colors. Not the sound of nature, not the sound of water. Just the world with its people in which I believe like a child. Child … funny word to use it for me … no, not now please, not in this moment, please let me finish, Memory can wait … I believe in a better us, in openings and in seeing Life, in valuing it and in sharing ourselves. I believe in people that don’t betray, I believe in hands that lift us up, in hands that are here to catch. I believe that we can live for making this place a better place. But you see, the world isn’t quite this, the world isn’t you. and here comes our hybris, my dear old friend. The world is mean, lives without living, pray without believing, love without seeing, speak without hearing, the world is blind and empty, and full of goals, illusionary, empty goals, in which the cult of I exist. The world is a jungle and they are all the same and here are us, you and me, one being … you love it, the world, you love it, and you want to show what you see, but you know as you have always seen and as I have always hoped that you are wrong, that you cannot be part of it, that you shall not accept superficiality and you shall fight and give yourself to it … don’t be part of it, but offer your life for it. How sad, how ironic, how meaningless for us is this?

I was Joy. Now I am Sadness. Now I am Pain. Because of you. and because of me. I wished so many things, but I am now just a walking shadow … I wish you can close me up and be here, with your arms open, because I need you now more than ever. You don’t have wounds, because you don’t have a flesh. I do have and this new wound is still open and it still hurts me. Knife cutting me so deep, vulnerability and need for talking, and need for words and need for gestures. Do please keep your promise. I shall walk on your steps and I shall follow you, I shall try not to cry and be alive for you, accepting your strength, your hopes. Again, all of ME is broken.  For two months, you shall be in charge, and you shall feel, and top of all think. Don’t let pain get near me more than it has already done. Let me lean and let us slowly walk … but after these months, you shall let me fall, and we shall both rest, on a green field, dreaming at a better world ...

Journeys ...

 

Ithaca. Journeys in search of our souls. We are born in foreign countries and with every new day we discover another grain of life inside ourselves. We fight, we fall, we hide, we cry in loneliness till we see no more, we hope, we are betrayed, we catch, and hope we shall be caught, we dance, sometimes with unknown people, sometimes with dear ones, sometimes with our own hybris. In all of them, we paint our own portraits.

Some people live outside, in a country named Romania, America, England, France. Some people live inside themselves, in a country named Ithaca. Today I have realized that in my own land the spring wind is blowing gently, as if it is tired by something inside this land, and that I have two little houses, in which my heart is resting.

I have my kids, those noisy little beings, who are always making me laugh, who have taught me so many things in the art of teaching and surviving in their world … they taught me patience, playing and sometimes being an actor, they taught me that life is hard for some of them from the beginning and EDUCATION, family education, kindergarten education and school education forms their character. How can we judge a man if we knew how much violence is inside its soul, if he/she didn’t receive any rays of heaven? How can we react when we see Fight in a kid of 5 years, who wants to be the best, and his family life is a nightmare? How can we react to their dreams, to their tiny hands and bodies that are running towards us and are expecting us to let them hug? How can we define Good and Evil if we knew, if we only knew, what has been offered to some of them?

In another house, I have my books. I am a collector of books, from the most stupid ones to the ones that I adore. There cannot be for me the term “too many books”… I have a relative who is giving me for my birthday, every year a blouse, and I hate this, giving the same present over and over again … however, I have a friend who is giving me every year a new book. From literature most of the time (this year - from philosophy) and I like this at her, knowing this insignificant obsession of mine (among others) … there is LITERATURE, there are good books, there are personal writings, there is a heart inside of them and a will to go on walking on this road, building up this small house of mine …

I have my God, above these houses, deep inside Ithaca. I cannot say I have two Gods, because for me the traditional God is dead, as Nietzsche said (tradition, woman inferiority, Heaven and Hell, churches …) My God is forever Life, kindness, nature … my God is Friendship. Because in a way or other, friends build ourselves, gives us the force to move on, and friendship lies on the feet of family ... because how could a family last in time if there is no Friendship there? Some will start talking me about love ... Love, yes, love … what kind of love? Huge word for me, too strong to pronounce it to anyone, because for me Love starts in Friendship. Love for lovers, for friends, for sisters, for brothers, for teachers, for parents, for pets, for us … I’m NOT a romantic being, I’m a cold and insensitive one in many aspects and I don’t believe in Love at first sight, I don’t believe in Friendship build in a day or a month, I don’t believe in “I love you” which shall last if it isn’t build in TIME and in FRIENDSHIP … so Friendship, above houses, above goals, heart of my Ithaca. Because this God of mine is warm and here from childhood, because I believe in It with my own being, because It is those gentle hands  catching, or pushing us in Dreams, because It is the people who believe is us, because It is Acceptance, and yes, top of all, because It is Love.

Gentle wind, touching my thoughts and feelings, moving slowly to haunted places … I look around and I see a house full of kids, and another one full of books, and I feel the God inside of this world, and I see a green field, far away from here ... I am playing chess with my own being … and there is a knife laying on a table, and there is a I too wounded, and there is a Game for the Future, and there are Voices screaming or whispering to stop … Falling. Getting up. Heavier steps, in a heavy pain. Moves on the left, or on the right, Time running from my fingers, Words melted in this heaviness ...

Will you tell me when the lights are fading Cos I can't see, I can't see no more ...

 Words screaming inside myself, I really cannot do this anymore, or insensitive ghosts who push us in Fights ...

Will you tell me when the fighting's over
Cos I can't take, I can't take no more
Will you tell me when the day is done
Cos I can't run, I can't run no more

Chess game, in my own land, because there is too much Fear and Tiredness resting inside myself.

 

Noncuvinte ...?

Sunete adormite in noi, care ticaie incet, ca un ceas invechit in rutina. Ganduri care zboara, care se intorc, care se pierd. In albastru, in gri, in rosu, in fiecare particica din noi. Amintiri ce se ridica din strafundul uitarii, lovind sau mangaind acea rasfrangere a zidului rece al lumii … sau oare e intr-adevar al meu?

Privim lumea care trece pe langa noi. Tot mai multe casti, tot mai multa tacere in fata Celuilalt. Inchisi in propria lume, inchisi departe de … casa, de noi. Un zambet pe ici pe colo, un pas grabit al unui trecator, ce inca mai viseaza la fericire. Un buchet de trandafiri, unul de lalele, niste lacrimi sterse in graba, tu care privesti cerul, care visezi la o apa, sau la un munte, la o dimineata plina de tacere, in care toate sunetele bucuriei vor fi acolo, tu care … tu, eu, noi, voi. Pronume personale sau fiinte umane?

Mereu am cautat in spatele lucrurilor. Unii spun, nu, toti spun ca sunt o fire complicata. Paginile de istorie, pline de date, pline de lupte si de tratate. Eu vedeam in fiecare pagina o noua poveste, o noua constiinta, o alta infrangere … ceea ce nu se spune, e ceea ce conteaza. Apoi lucrurile care ne inconjoara … un perete, un stilou, un creion, o carte, o strada. Simple obiecte, care devin amintiri de pret atunci cand sunt atinse de acea mana invizibila a amintirilor. Pentru ca insufletim tot ceea ce atingem si tot ceea ce ne pasa. Pentru ca in toate suntem noi ... Oare ce as fi fara amintiri? O persoana mai usor de inteles probabil, o persoana care ar putea uita, o persoana intre un infinit numar de persoane.

Pagina alba, din nou in fata mea. Ma gandesc la Viata, la Durere, la Fericire, la Oameni, la Singuratate. Deasupra lumii, cand eu ma vad dedesubtul ei. Nu e asta cel mai ciudat? Te astepti la o imbratisare, primesti in schimb o palma peste obraz, ajungi sa te intrebi de ce, cu ce ai gresit, pentru  a primi asta … si cand incepi sa dai crezare Destinului care iti tot sopteste la ureche amintiri pe care ai da orice sa le stergi, sa le faci sa dispara, cand incepi sa ingenunchezi in fata Sortii care iti spune ca pentru tine lumea e aici doar pentru a-ti arata evanescenta ei, pentru a te da uitarii, atunci aceasi mana te mangaie, soptind cuvinte ce alina, ce incearca sa cicatrizeze ...

Viata. Ce e viata? Un numar de constelatii asezate pe un fir de iarba, peste care turnam anotimpuri, vant si cateva raze de soare. Cautam fericirea in ea, incercand sa prindem fluturii care zboara mai aproape sau mai departe de constelatiile ce se pierd in mainile timpului, pe acest fir firav de iarba … sarim in vise, in oameni, in noi. Pentru ca viata e o lunga calatorie in cautarea noastra, in cautarea definitiei noastre. Suntem aceasi, dar suntem atat de diferiti. Sunt … ce sunt? Aveam vise si aveam culori in fata ochilor. Aveam credinta ca maini calde vor fi aici, pentru a ma sprijini, pentru a ma impinge. Aveam energia in spatele fiecarui tel, a fiecarei prietenii. Heaven is a place on Earth … I tried to give rays of heaven. Most of the time, I received rays of hell. But this is Life. And it is our Choice what we become and what we want from our Life. Because Death is here to catch us all, when the Day is over and the sun goes to sleep, and Death can teach us many things, including the need to live our own Day, the need to write our own Story...

Durerea e parte din viata. E urma care o lasa trecatorii in fata noastra, e gustul esecului, e neputinta noastra in fata propriului Ego, e departarea de noi si uneori, paradoxal, e apropierea cea mai intima de parti necunoscute din interiorul nostru. Durerea suntem noi, e iadul din privirile multimii, e neputinta de a fi Dumnezeu macar pentru o constelatie, macar pentru o farama de secunda. Durerea e acceptarea noastra, goi, in fata divinitatii. Durerea e pasiune, e acea bataie de inima care arata cat de ancorati suntem in Viata, in prieteni, in vise. E puntea dintre Sensibilitate si Tarie de caracter, sau de ce nu, Indiferenta. Marginita, nemarginita, singura in care stii sa inoti, singura pe care a-i putea sa o accepti din partea celorlalti, sa o iei asupra ta, caci e adanc, infipta in tine, caci e hybris-ul fara inceput si fara sfarsit, e ceea ce controlezi si ascunzi, e ceea ce sub masti esti cu adevarat.

Fericire. Oameni. Singuratate. E fericirea o caracteristica a egoismului? Pot fi oamenii in singuratate cu adevarat fericiti, sau sunt atunci drogati cu Durere? E vant si e teama, e chemare si e indepartare, e ceea ce vrem noi sa fie, adanc, in noi. Suntem invatati cu Fericirea de catre ceilalti Oameni, si ei sunt cei care dau, si care iau aceasta particica neinsemnata din noi.

In singuratate, omul renaste. Sau de ce nu, moare. Singuratea e ceata aceea plina de ganduri, de independenta, de nevoia de a respira din cand in cand in solitudine. Si e cutitul care ne omoara atunci cand coboara prea mult, in zile cand astepti o simpla strangere de mana …

Zile. Gesturi. Cuvinte. Pagini albe sub care se revarsa culori … rosu – vulnerabilitatea pasiunii, emotia puternica, deschiderea spre tine, verde era ploaia in care speranta cobora spre tine, in care raze de bucurie straluceau, era unda usoara de vant ce plutea incet spre viitor … movul era raceala, era perfectiune, era lipsa unei batai de inima, era setea pentru teluri, era nevoia de a merge inainte, si in acelasi timp nevoia de a te simti iubit cu toate carentele pe care le ai, in timp ce griul era tacere, nevoia ca cineva sau ceva sa sparga acea tacere, era teama, era nevoia de tandrete, de cuvinte, era neincredere si era punctul mort al durerii, in care nimic nu mai era posibil …

Trecatori pe strada, trecatori in viata noastra, cantece ascultate in surdina, cuvinte aruncate in culori, visuri si speranta in umanitate …

Da, cred ca mi-e dor de mine.