Such a strong word. Such a difficult notion to be understood. Such an intriguing feeling to offer. And such a simple word that makes all the difference in the world.
We work day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. We get home and we start thinking of the things which we haven’t finished. We keep on saying that this will be the last weekend/the last Friday afternoon/the last extra activity that we accept and do. But that weekend becomes this weekend and then the future one, and so on. We neglect our bodies, perhaps our souls, and we keep on going … where to? What for?
Somehow, I think that it is more to this life than the simple things that we all wish for, from a home to a stable working place. I feel all my bones and cells literarily cracking, but at the same time, I feel all my energy and inner self rushing through my veins, not letting me sleep, not letting me stop, being at the same time my creation and my destruction. As one of our Romanian poets said, I need a mountain to be my body, I need a mountain with its tops and valleys, forests and lakes, summers and winters, to keep all that I carry inside myself.
Beyond all the long working hours, beyond the side-effects of all these, beyong the irritation that I am sometimes kicked out of my own room because I work so much, there is one thing that keeps me human, and that’s trust. Daring to believe in the (insane) human being, daring to think outside the box, and maybe more importantly – daring to trust my own guts.
Because, after all, we all need something to believe in, don’t we?
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