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January 25, 2011

Celebrating Life

"You cannot find peace by avoiding life".
Virginia Woolf


The world is going insane. Every time I turn on my PC, the TV or my phone, I find out how mean people can be. We fight for nothingness, with each other. When we are all equal. We complicate our lives, not daring to face the problems of life, not daring to fully live it. What is life? Why are we alive, what is the meaning of all our days, why some people teach us to LIVE (not to survive), and they are the ones that are incapable or living and surviving? Why LIFE?


“Let us again pretend that life is a solid substance, shaped like a globe, which we turn about in our fingers. Let us pretend that we can make out a plain and logical story, so that when one matter is dispatched – love for instance – we go on, in an orderly manner, to the next.”  (V. Woolf)


 But life is rarely a logical story. We fight with each other. We love with all our hearts, we give the best of us, and still, we feel alone, in our journeys. For me, life is a story. A complete story, full of reality and fantasy, of words and worlds that are melting together, colliding and forming new forms, new rainbows, new days. Life is a teacher, that shows us we are all human beings, that if we are lacking values, if we sink in superficiality, if we think only of ourselves and our fucking happiness, we’re nobody. Life means “sacrality” for me. Life means Friendship (the most holly/sacred thing in my Life). Life equals Death


Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more. (V.W)


Death is the frontier that every one shall pass, the one that makes a difference for all. You have no chance when the wave is bigger than you, when you fall into the depth of the biggest sea, when you are swollen by your own nightmares/waves/fears/loneliness&pain. Death “lives” among us, day by day, second by second. It has a lot of thinks to whisper, to teach us, to make us think.


That we can see and understand everything just as well alive as dead, only when we're alive we don't have the time, or the peace of mind, or the inclination to see and understand what we could. We're too busy rushing to our graves. (Cristina Garcia - Dreaming in Cuba)


We often forget to celebrate the dear ones, to offer them  THE moments of joy, of life that they deserve. That's why I never forget a birthday and offer all my soul to the loving ones, on their HAPPY days. Because no one shouldn't feel sad/miserable/lonely on their birthdays. We often forget to enjoy Life, each day, with its good and bad. We often ask ourselves if Life is still worth living. We often forget to celebrate birthdays. When we remember of them, sometimes it is too late, because instead of celebrating LIFE, we have to celebrate Death.... human is too fragile to last forever, and while birthdays are only ephemeral days, death is forever. Ibsen was saying in one of his plays,


WHEN WE DEAD AWAKEN,  WE FIND OUT WE HAVE NEVER LIVED.


I think that all of us had their days of dying inside, of ignoring joy, happiness, of needing a shoulder to cry … Life can be a bitch sometimes, we can be bitches sometimes with the rest of the world, with our dearest friends, with ourselves. We all search for love. We are all sinners. We all need someone to run to, someone to catch us, we all need to offer forgiveness and to receive forgiveness.


Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends. (Virginia Woolf)


For all the ones that taught us a thing or two, for all the ones that kept us alive, let's learn to accept the others, to hear them, let's accept that we are all human beings, needing other human beings: the cold and the warmth, the mean and the good, the saint and the whore. Let's open a book and REALLY hear it, le't really see its world, let's really listen to the sounds of words, of broken souls, because

Every secret of a writer's soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind is written large in his works. (V.Woolf)


I have always started with writers. Because they offer all their lives to us and sometimes, their world was the only one that I got near me, because in their world, I saw the definition of human being, because in their world of words and coldness, of inhumanity, I was never disappointed or hurted ...


From the beginning, to the end, from the first page that we read, from the first hug that our heart is offering, from the ache of our deepest wounds, to the waves that we can’t control, to all the things that we dared to forget, to all the tears of our soul ... let’s really start to celebrate life!



 

January 13, 2011

Friendship. Comment faire rimer "amour" avec "toujours"?

I was a little girl alone in my little world who dreamed of a little home for me...


Someone told me long time ago the following words: Every human being can be replaced with another one. If you understand this, you shall be ok. My heart couldn’t agree with her, although my mind, my reason has been telling me that she’s right. Every human being that I love has his/her own corner in my heart, every human being that I love and hits me bombs his/her corner of my heart. If I met this person now and if I wanted to be sincere with her, I would tell her this: Every human being CANNOT be replaced with another one. And because of this philosophy, sometimes I am K.O.


If you listen to me, if you want to make love rhyme with everyday, things shall not be ok. It shall hurt so much that sometimes you would want to die; you would cry, fall, and you shall not trust too easily other human beings. In fact, it is possible that you shall never trust anyone. A part from you, from your heart, shall die. You will feel bitterness, angriness, fire. But if you find the right persons, if these persons won’t hurt you and accept you as a whole, with your good parts and bad parts, you shall find happiness, power, will to live, meaning. So what do you say? The first road gives you safety, protection, hope. My road can lead to heaven or hell, it is not safe, it is based on the trust that you must invest in the outside world, it can fill you with energy or it can destroy you, wanting to hug loneliness forever.


Long walks in the dark through woods grown behind the park, I asked God who I'm supposed to be. ..


To talk about me, I’ve met two different persons to which I offered two corners of my heart. The first one has always taught me the value of ambition, of life, of independency. After five years, I feel safe in this friendship. I’m moving on in my road, in my writing, in my studies because of her trust in me. She taught me to want more, to never give up, to accept challenges, and she is in charge with my Inhuman part from me – the one that never shuts up, the one that is too scared to speak, the one that wants to make a difference.


Human is a child, warmth, fragile, sometimes violent, hidden deep in my being. I gave this other part of me to another person. James Joyce told somewhere: “I gave others my pride and joy. To you I give my sin, my folly, my weakness and sadness.” This second person taught me to value more the human part in any persons, taught my Human-part to speak, to express itself, to feel. From happiness to bitterness.


I have no idea what I can offer to these two persons, to express to them the value that friendship has in my life, to make them feel how much I need them. Every day.


Now I'm old and feeling grey...


Today I met with the past. And it was safe, loving, nice. Too short. Today, although things cracked yesterday inside of me, I was feeling energy in a corner of my heart. It made me see more, accept more, want more. I am not ok. Actually, I guess I’m a little K.O. I miss happiness, I miss Me trusting Me, I missed hugs, I miss action.


So dear God, or you/she/he/anyone, anything, if you think I deserve it, give me a ray of happiness in my life.   



January 8, 2011

Between Me and God

Ma gandesc la ziua de azi, la mine, la Dumnezeu, la idei de care-mi este teama, ma gandesc la mare, la examene, la toti oamenii pe care i-am alungat de langa mine lunile astea, la catelul de jos, la Eu. Pe tarmul marii mele, simtindu-ti respiratia in ceafa, privesc.


A fost o zi ciudata, o zi in care dupa muult mult timp, am zambit. Am zambit dimineata, trezita dupa o noapte cumplita, de un SMS din trecut, amintindu-mi ce e azi. Si e placut sa vezi ca oamenii de demult inca nu te-au uitat, ca tu insati ai uitat complet si nu-ti pasa de Azi, dar ei inca suna, zambind.


Adevarul gol-golut e ca mereu m-au enervat aniversarile onomastice, in care un eu poarta un nume cu un alt eu, cu un altul, si cu un altul, si intr-o zi din an, numele noastre il sarbatorsc pe sfantul cutare. Ion, Ionel, Ionut, (I)oana. De ce? Ma identific in toate numele pe care le am, nu le-as schimba, nu sunt de acord cu schimbarea numelui la casatorie, fiindca e si acesta o particica (mai buna sau mai rea) din mine, care m-a format. Dar nu ma pot identifica cu numele unui sfant. Ce sarbatoresc, ce simt? Nimic sacru, nimic special. Doar vesnicele telefoane, cu urarile deja de mult uzate, cu sanatatea, banii si fericirea care de mult ma dau afara din casa. Cadourile pe care le primesti, zambind, dar nesimtind nimic, pe care memoria sentimentelor nu le simte. Stii ce-mi voi aminti? O urare de demult si-un soare micut pe-un colt de pagina, un soare de care mi-e atat de dor incat mi-e teama (prea teama) sa-l simt …


Ma mai gandesc la Boboteaza, la toate datinile, la sarbatorile care slava Domnului ca au trecut! Sunt atatea traditii pe care eu una nu le pot intelege. Ar fi apa sfintita, in care nu mai avem voie sa ne spalam pentru un anumit nr de zile, la aghiazma pe care trebuie sa o bem in fiecare dimineata, pe stomacul gol, la preotii pe care-i primim in casa, pentru a pupa sfanta cruce. Si in timp ce o pupam, ma gandesc la cati oameni au trecut inaintea mea, cate salive s-au asezat pe ea, si mai presus de toate astea, cati oare am simtit o epifanie, un fior, ceva, orice, atunci cand am primit preotul in casa? Nu mai spun de banii pe care bunul Dumnezeu ar avea nevoie, pe care ii lasam de fiecare data cand sfanta persoana intra in casa sau atunci cand ingenunchiem pentru a ne spune pacatele … DE CE?


Mereu am fost o rebela, dear God. Mereu am intrebat de ce. Mereu Te-am cautat. Nu ma inchin in fata icoanelor, a moastelor, a preotilor. Mi-e groaza de spovedanie si adevarul e ca pentru a oferi cuiva o adevarata spovedanie, fie el preot sau psiholog, in primul si-n primul rand trebuie sa-l simt ca prieten. Si aici, spovedania le-o rezerv prietenilor … Dar de mica am fost invatata sa-mi spun o rugaciune in fiecare noapte. Am renuntat la asta intr-o zi din Martie. Durerea ne apropie de Dumnezeu? Pe mine m-a indepartat. Pentru ca cu fiecare zi in care mai muream putin, si El murea in mine. M-am razvratit si am tipat candva, demult. Si daca as fi putut, i-as fi tras si o palma. Sa iubesc? Mi-e imposibil sa ma iubesc pe mine, deci … Dar mereu, ma intorc la El, jucandu-ma cu “cred” si “nu cred”, penduland intre ateism, agnosticism, gnosticism si misticism. Mereu, pasionata de Istoria religilor, mereu in cautarea acelui ceva, pe care-L simt in mine.


“Dumnezeu este Iubire.” Cuvinte din Biblie care-mi rasuna mereu in minte, cand cineva ma intreaba in ce cred. In iubire. Si in tot ceea ce aceasta implica. Binele pe care-l simt, pe care-l vreau sa-l vad in fiecare om, pentru care ofer toata generozitatea si energia mea. Dreptul la fericire pentru toti oamenii (desi astazi, inca o data, cineva ne-a atras atentia cat de diferiti sunt unii oameni – artisti/scriitori – de ceilalti), dreptul de a fi iubit, iertat, dreptul la urma urmei, de a trai. In lumea de aici, si-n cea de dincolo.


 

Bird set free

„Every time I find the meaning of life, they change it.” (Daniel Klein) You see, I’ve had a design, and I don’t know where I did wrong. ...