Looking for the Summer...

 

“Forget about life for a while…” – these were the most beautiful words that I have read, on a street in Germany. There are many times when we let life govern us, succumbing into its greatness and abysses, colours and greyness, complexity and simplicity, and hours/days, when we forget about life for a while.

Life means struggle and memories. And traumas, and finding oneself, reinventing oneself, and moving on. Of being aware that you are not the only one who suffers, of learning how to survive, and live, with those deep wounds, and not letting them reflect on the way you treat people, of not repeating ancient stories. Because I really believe when you really give up on yourself, and your dreams, indeed you are old and lost. Life is fever and thirst.

Life sometimes means avalanches – of events, of painful memories, of things that you simply can’t control. Right now, this is what Life means to me, of moving on, of keeping my sanity in all this insane world. And as it rarely happens, there are those moments when you forget all about life, and paradoxically, in those moments you return to yourself, to a part of what Life could mean, and find energy for its avalanches and the unavoidable.

   

Carpe Diem

"Well, I may have some doubts

But I hold the shovel tight

Digging into the frozen ground"

Dincolo de filozofii, teorii ale cunoasterii, ani de studiu si tot ceea ce ne face sa crestem intelectual, cred ca suntem definiti prin genele pe care le-am mostenit, amintirile instinctive cu care am venit aici, si mostenirea nostra ca popor. 

Cred ca indiferent cat s-ar vorbi, nu vom scapa niciodata de acele ,,atentii" care trebuie date la un eveniment mai important, de la sustineri de grad/doctorate la medici/oameni de care avem la un moment dat nevoie. Pentru ca dincolo de munca studentului/profesorului, nimic nu e mai important ca acea ,,mica atentie", ca acea masa pompoasa, pentru a incununa un anumit numar de ani de munca. 

Cred ca indiferent cat s-ar scrie, oricate studii s-ar realiza, oricat am suferi de la incalzirea globala (unii mai sensibili ca altii), noi ca popor tot nu vom avea cultura necesara de a face ceva concret pentru mediu. Sau daca chiar va aparea, posibil sa fie atunci mult prea tarziu. Sau, la fel, oricat de constienti am fi de felul in care viata se va schimba in urmatorii 20-30 de ani, tot vom avea instinctul de a aduce un copil pe lume, fara a ne gandi la anii ce-l/ne asteapta.

Cred ca mereu ne vom uita in ograda celuilalt: cu ce se imbraca, ce masina conduce, cu cine iese, ce face in zilele libere. Poate pentru ca viata nostra ni se pare prea fada, prea lipsita de sens, poate ca ne-am invatat cu niste repere sociale, si tot ceea ce e prea normal, sau prea diferit, e mereu ceva extraordinar. 

Cred ca indiferent cat am dori, mereu ne scapa ceva de aici, mereu nu vom putea avea tot ce ne dorim. Si mereu nu vom fi multumiti cu ceea ce avem, pana nu va fi prea tarziu. 

Underwater

Terrified by water, by change. Terrified of all the things that I see them coming, like a hurricane taking everything in its road, not being able to stop it. Terrified by all the “I”s that starve for a piece of freedom. And tired as hell of everything, just wanting to close my eyes and breathe, forgetting, escaping, somewhere far away, but right now having to learn to breathe underwater, feeling all the pressure from within. And the fear that this time it’s too much.  

Burnout

 

Feeling like every atom of my soul is aching, and every bone of my body is cracking. Trying to remember the latest holiday that I took, trying to glimpse the nearest (normal) holiday. Feeling like a phantom, yelling, without being heard. And in this state, even words seem to fade, to fail, to betray you.

Fear

All the things we fear to say. all the things we bury inside, too scared to show them. all the things that we become addicted to in order to escape ourselves. all the screaming that we push inside, all the memories that we fear, past, and future. all the tiredness and the numbness and the sadness that we feel today. 

"Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive.Fear of falling asleep at night.

Fear of not falling asleep.

Fear of the past rising up.

Fear of the present taking flight.

Fear of the telephone that rings in the dead of night.

Fear of electrical storms.

Fear of the cleaning woman who has a spot on her cheek!

Fear of dogs I've been told won't bite.

Fear of anxiety!

Fear of having to identify the body of a dead friend.

Fear of running out of money.

Fear of having too much, though people will not believe this.

Fear of psychological profiles.

Fear of being late and fear of arriving before anyone else.

Fear of my children's handwriting on envelopes.

Fear they'll die before I do, and I'll feel guilty.

Fear of having to live with my mother in her old age, and mine.

Fear of confusion.

Fear this day will end on an unhappy note.

Fear of waking up to find you gone.

Fear of not loving and fear of not loving enough.

Fear that what I love will prove lethal to those I love.

Fear of death.

Fear of living too long.

Fear of death.

I've said that."

(Raymond Carver) 

Isn't it ironic?

 It's like daring to swim in the ocean, moving from one shore to another, this is how it feels. You give up so much, you endure so many things, you keep on swimming no matter the weather, the holidays, the wasted time, the emptiness in front of you. For nothing, in a quixotic quest, you keep on swimming, because ironically, this is what you were taught to do. And you finally see the other shore, but no matter how hard you try to move, every muscle, every limb, every beating of your heart says no more. And the harder you fight it, the more the water pulls you in, seeing while you drown in that deserted land, that you have been trying so hard to reach it. 

Maybe Tomorrow

"So maybe tomorrow

I'll find my way home..."

 2020 was the first year when I really wrote some resolutions. It will probably be also the last one. It has been the year that made me numb, and this time, this numbness hasn’t been something bad, but a mechanism to cope with reality, a weapon to defend myself.

I don’t know why people keep on searching for new beginnings, why they keep on trying to blame a year, or a divinity, for the problems that we have caused, from global warming to pandemics, from floods to rainforest fires. We, humanity, are to be blamed, and unfortunately, I do believe that this year was only the beginning, that there are too many humans that cannot go beyond them, that are utterly blind, and can’t see how much damage we have done here.   

2020 was a year of defeat, and acceptance for me, a year in which I had to put my weapons down, take a break from dreaming, and embracing the things which I once ran away from … protecting others, and leadership. It was the year that reminded me of a sentence from John Fowles, The Collector, in which it is said to let Life decide for you, and you be just its spectator, let Life/Destiny take control over you. I have always been against this, fighting with all my being for what I wanted to achieve, but this year I felt exactly as Fowles said, having no control anymore. It was also the year in which I felt on my skin that memories that hurt and the things I wish every year, in December, mean nothing in front of the fear of losing dear ones. It was a year of Loss, but with small good things.

Maybe tomorrow, numbness won’t be needed anymore. Maybe it will melt away and the clocks will start ticking once more.