ACCEPTANCE in an Upside-Down World

"Life is mostly froth and bubble, two things stand like stone, KINDNESS in another's trouble, COURAGE in your own."

Adam L. Gordon

Every minute counts. We talk about Earth, God, Society. As Emerson points out in “The American Scholar”, not classification is the primary source of knowledge, but the wholeness, what these divided minuscule parts form. A tree, a wave, a land, an island, the blue sky, the storm, the seasons = Earth. Atomas are essential, but their union shape the Life. Society is formed by individuals, most of the time different in their thinking, and God cannot be understood if we don’t understand the human being. What if God was one of us? In each of us, and in order to see/love Him, we must see the ones around us …

Life is made of hours, years, happy and sad moments. Life is build up from seconds, from breathes, from bubbles. One second here, mingled with another one and another one, mixed with breathing. This is how Life begins. Every minute counts. And in this harmony of Life, of the perfection buried inside Life, we, human beings, divide ourselves, forget ourselves, we, human beings, let other feelings govern our lives. Because we forget that our time is limited, that we have only a life; we forget the dear ones, thinking that we shall have enough time to tell them how much we love them, and we consume our energy with knick-knocks, with insignificant people.

Acceptance in an Upside-Down world. Is this world insane or am I the one who has got problems? More and more people think only of money. No matter if they have enough, they always want more. And if they could win this money without working, they would be happier. People don’t have a goal in their lives … what would I like to be? What suits me best? What is my meaning in life? We are afraid of loneliness, and we accept any person in our lives. So that we won’t be lonely to the end. And let’s just think … they have happiness: money, love, family. Let’s look in the life of the people who are fair to themselves to the end … besides TRUTH, what do they have?

We spend our life discussing about the others, hunting grades/scholarships/career/fame, etc. We gossip, we live without thinking, without the conscience of clocks, and most of the time, we are haunted by happiness. This is the first level of acceptance in the world.

The second level of acceptance relates to me, the relation between me and the Others. All my life I have been searching for ACCEPTANCE, to be accepted as a whole, with all my defects and qualities. We are afraid to show the others who we really are, to show the beast inside us, to make the beast inside us kneel in front of dear ones. Will you hug this beast? Being different is a disease; we boast ourselves, saying that “differences are nice”, but in fact we do not accept our oppositions, other thinking systems, other shapes. We are afraid of what is different and we search, all of us search, for people like us.

On a third level, I think we have acceptance towards us. I and Me. Do we really accept our own beings? Do I? When I feel not accepted by the people from the first bubble, people that I don’t give a damn on them, I rarely feel something. When I feel judged by my people, no matter how strongly I scream at them, no matter how strongly I hit them, saying "YOU don't have this right!", I actually hit myself. We judge every difference, every tiny piece from our being, and we judge at the same time the fire that burns our hearts, the fire that says NO, the difference itself. We build up our land, our dear and safe land, based on the inner fire, on the inner energy, on the struggle of conscience. Being the person who you feel to be vs. being the person that the others want to see/have.

Roads. We take a road, we take another, we fall, and we kill minutes. Have you ever thought that in a way or another we are ALL a sort of suicides? Because we kill our Time with all the trifles, not worth-reading books, not-worth talking people, and so on.

The world in which we live is turned upside-down, it is a tango or a play danced/written by Someone with a black humor. But this Someone lives in bubbles, in a me, a you, a we, a they, and I guess this Someone searches also for ACCEPTANCE.   

One Year in Search of Ithaca

“Language is the only homeland.”

Czesław Miłosz

[Ieri Ithaca a implinit un an. Din moment ce e one of my celebrations, am putut intarzia o zi].

In ultimul timp am vrut sa bat la tobe. Le aud in minte si-mi vine sa le lovesc, sa le fac sa cante. Mereu imaginatia mea  - sau o parte din mine - si-a dorit sa cante, sa se transpuna in sunete. Acu’ ceva vreme vroiam sa cant la pian, sa imi scriu melodia mea, sa las notele sa spuna cine sunt eu. Mi-as fi dorit ca cineva sa aiba rabdarea sa ma invete sa cant la un instrument. Cum nimeni n-a facut-o, am ramas la Cuvinte.  

... I have no Beginning and no End. Who am I?

"A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step."

Asa a inceput Ithaca. Or my journey to myself. Habar n-aveam ce voi scrie aici, habar n-aveam ce va urma. Ithaca means sincerity, my egos, and why not, my masks. Because people build up masks. Pentru ca fiecare interpreteaza ce vrea atunci cand citeste ce e aici, pentru ca fiecare nu poate iesi din propria fiinta, din propria lume, daca nu are un sambure de empatie in el/ea.

De ce scriu, de ce am inceput Ithaca, de ce vreau mai mult, de ce am nevoie de tine? Nu stiu. Asa cum nu stiu cum merg si cum respir. Dar “language is my homeland" and I’m searching for home. Because I miss being home ...

Astazi ma uitam peste niste carticele si peste noi proiecte. De cateva luni am inceput o alta calatorie, pe un alt teren. Ma gandeam la aceste cuvinte, care ma caracterizeaza atat de bine, LANGUAGE IS MY HOMELAND, si ma gandeam ca in sfarsit, acolo ma simt acasa, ca in sfarsit fac ceea ce imi place. It’s my land, my territory, my heart, my life. And I wish nobody shall take it away from me...

Ma uit in trecut, ma uit in viitor … intorc paginile, cautand noi amintiri. Mi-e dor sa ma plimb intr-un parc cu banci verzi si portocalii (in special portocalii), mi-e dor sa ma simt in siguranta in acest parc. Mi-a fost dor de mine asa cum sunt astazi, zambind, mi-a fost de energia aceasta, dincolo de trup, de ani, de un eu auto-destructiv… de energia care-si doreste sa apese pe acceleratie, care vrea mai mult, care asteapta o schimbare ...

Acum un an intrebam asta: "… Who am I, what am I searching? Just Ithaca." Acum ma intreb ce este Ithaca. Well, Ithaca is me, Ithaca is my journey in Life, it is my search of happiness. And Ithaca has been a sea full of books and Art, Ithaca has been a sea of troubles and memories, Ithaca has been You, because I so damn need You to be ok, Ithaca has been Friendship.

  Nu stiu cum a rezistat un an de zile, asa cum nu stiu cum animalutele mele ma iubesc atat, asa cum nu stiu ceea ce oamenii vad la mine. M-am bucurat mult pentru comentariile primite, pentru cei carora le-am dat ceva la care sa se gandeasca… mereu am crezut ca a scrie inseamna automat a primi un raspuns, ca a scrie pe un blog implica si comentarii. Deci m-am bucurat nespus de mult si au insemnat mai mult decat credeti ceea ce mi-ati scris … Mi-a placut mult ceea ce Iania a spus in "Last Words", mi-a placut mult ceea ce Mara a spus in "Friendship. Comment Faire Amour Rimer avec Toujours?" Thank you!

So another year in Ithaca … with a person like me. I can’t promise that it shall last another year, I can’t promise you that my posts shall be shorter (:-“), I can’t promise that I shall be happier. But no matter how many things I shall write in it, it shall always reflect ME, with all my parts ... and masks.

 

A Journey to the Past or Open-Letter

Once upon a time a Memory ...

Mereu am cautat oameni puternici. Diferiti de ceilalti, independenti, cu o coloana vertebrala stabila, care stiu intotdeauna ce vor, nebuni intr-un anumit fel prin faptul de a fi diferit, de a cere altceva de la viata. Oameni pe care sa ma pot baza, oameni pe care sa indraznesc sa-i iubesc.

Dupa cum probabil ca-ti amintesti, ma intereseaza Fiinta Umana. Sunt obsedata la randul meu de detalii pe care le vanez in fiecare cuvant, in fiecare gest. Sunt doua lucruri despre care intreb fiecare nou-venit:

1. La ce facultate esti? = nivel de maturitate, de independenta, de luare a deciziilor, maturitate inca o data, ambitie, proprie cunoastere.


2. Ce carti citesti? sau atunci cand intru pentru prima data in casa unui om, caut coltul cu carti. Imi spun atatea lucruri despre o persoana! Citim ceea ce ne caracterizeaza, citim despre lumea noastra. “Knowledge is power”, nu?  Si citim de asemenea pentru a afla mai multe despre noi.

E o melancolie ciudata in cartile pe care le purtam in suflet ... Intimitatea aia, sunetele sufletului, cuvintele care zavorasc lumea de afara, atat de mici, si totusi atat de puternice … E o melancolie in mine atunci cand ma gandesc la ele. Cand mi se face dor de o anumita persoana, incep sa citesc cartile indragite de ea/el.

Te-am cautat anul trecut, intr-un inceput de primavara. Te-am urat probabil si as fi dat totul sa nu ma vezi atunci, asa. Pentru ca de la stadiul de a intelege, am trecut la un altul: am intrat in lumea ta si m-am trezit brusc in intuneric, singura, inconjurata de apa. Sunt zile in care m-am gandit mult la trecut, sunt zile cand ma intorceam in clase goale, in inceputuri de dimineata, razboindu-ma cu Filosofia … sau o vrei filozofie? Sunt zile in care mi-e dor de cineva ca tine.

Te-am cautat in lumi virtuale, in cuvinte, in trecut. Si m-am intors la Amintiri. Amare, dulci, firave. M-am intors la cartile pe care le citeai candva, pentru a mai regasi un pic din ceea ce-mi lipsea.

Am inceput vara aceasta cu Murakami – Kafka pe malul marii. Te-am regasit in suprarealismul de acolo, in invalmaseala actiunii (pentru ca actiunea nu este una ordonata, aranjata minutios, “ca la carte”), te-am auzit pe malul marii. Ce pot sa spun despre ea? E o poveste fericita, in incercarea de a se elibera de sub povara unei profetii, a unui destin, si a accepta in final indatoririle drumului ales. E o poveste in care pestii cad din cer, in care batranii vorbesc cu pisicile, care pune la zid orice urma de melancolie.  In timp ce te-am regasit pe TU, pe acel Tu vesel, supra-fericit, plin de sine, am analizat cartea si critic, caci da, criticul din mine nu doarme aproape niciodata (subliniaza aproape). Murakami nu cred ca va fi vreodata scriitorul meu preferat din cauza stilului, din cauza Cuvintelor si a felului in care sunt folosite. Vreau mai mult.

Iarna asta m-am aruncat insa in Kafka – Procesul. Si acolo am spus “ouch”. Pentru ca cred ca e una dintre cele mai reci carti care am citit-o vreodata. E o carte de o veridicitate incredibila, o carte absurda, care vorbeste despre noi, despre toti “Noi”-i, un proces prezent in fiecare dintre noi. Si un sfarsit la care cu totii suntem condamnati. M-a intristat. Nici o lumina, nici o culoare. Realitatea pura, fara nimic altceva. Impressive. Si in Kafka am gasit un alt Tu. Acel Tu cu care ma contraziceam candvam, cu acel Tu caruia incercam sa-i arat o culoare, un zambet in Viata.

E acum o zi de februarie in care zambesc, in care sper, in care astept, in care-mi amintesc. Viata mea in ultimul an a fost un Proces in stilul lui Kafka, acum insa astept sa trec la o alta carte, la un alt stil, sa indraznesc sa fiu Eu. Si Eu am ramas la fel cum o stii: la fel de zburlita, la fel de anti-sociala, la fel de rece, un pic mai obosita, plina de ani. Si Tu? 

I hope you’re fine and Happy. And far away from a Past.