Monday, June 10, 2019

Do not fear, it shall pass



Kurt Vonnegut was right. There is no one destiny, a high, a low and then another high that leads each human to the "and he lived happily ever after". No, that story line applies only in story tales. In real life a lot of shit hits you when you least expect it and knocks you down on your knees. When it happens, and it will happen many times if you're lucky enough to live long enough, we humans look up to the sky and ask: "why?!", "why me?!", "why now?!", "what did I do to deserve this?!". We always think about our own persona as something so special, so important "ME". When we ask "why me?!", we are really thinking is "why not Michele?! that bitch has everything, why can't I have this little thing I cherish?!". We feel angry, disappointed, frustrated... but above everything we feel FEAR!
Fear is the most experienced feeling by humankind. Most of our decisions are still based on the most primal and disabling fear. Our brain cells freeze, our hearts gallop out of our chests, dark thoughts squeeze our bodies clawing their way into our organs and veins and we are trapped in a most agonizing and painful stupor. Is our immortality suddenly threaten? No, we are still slowly or rapidly approaching the passing moment. We are just so blinded by the FEAR that we forget how short is everything we experience. 

The starting point




Being good at something always asks for a starting point. I've always enjoyed writing. Well, not always, but ever since I learned how to write. I grew up with my grandparents running around scratching my knees and imagining new games and stories to go with them. I didn't learn how to read, write or draw. It was not my grandparents' fault, I was in kindergarten from the age of 3, but they only taught us how to stay still and listen to them reading to us. When I was forced to go to school, that is how I remember feeling about it, I was quite literally illiterate... and I was not a fast learner either in the beginning. My sister could read and write by the age of 4, I was 7 and a half and I could not write my name.  
It started with writing about my summer vacations. I wish I still had those "compuneri", but all my school memorabilia got thrown away once I moved to US. My mom never did like my handwriting. I would spend the summer thinking of daily activities worthy of my daily journal entry. I would start with the introduction, continue with the body and finish with the conclusions: Inceput, Cuprins, Incheiere... the life of a story and the story of a life.
I still don't quite know what I am doing with my life. My friend says :" Will see!". Easy for her to say that, she always knew what she wanted to do with her life. She had the dream and she fought for it with all her might. I guess I am still looking for that dream. Motivational books instruct me to go back, way back, find the little girl I once was and ask her. I tried, it's not easy. My little girl would cook and clean and everything else the female grownups in her life were doing. She was told early on that there is a woman part and a man part to everything in the world and that she was the woman part. There were many things the woman part of the world could not do, my little girl questioned that early on. She was told her life will be a long painful struggle if she doesn't learn when to speak and when to keep silent. I learned to keep silent by shutting down the whole system. I lost my dream somewhere inside me because I killed her voice. But it is in there, in some corner, afraid to come out, terrified of remaining forever undiscovered. 
This is the starting point.  




Friday, June 2, 2017

dulce durere



îmi port mâinile în rugăciune
nasul mi l-am ascuns în umăr
gânduri îmi fug în valuri argintii
într-o iarna ce-și arată fulgii

respirația ta caldă usucă pământul
tu, cel zvelt și încordat.
mă tem că
împreună genunchii-mi
îți vor răni coastele;

mă rog.

tu spui: "lasă...
eu te cunosc și-mi pasă".

și atunci mă prind,
mâinile-mi-s crengi
ți se încolăcesc pe coapsă;
iar vântu' suflă norii
în urma noastră



Wednesday, January 13, 2016

the gaze of others




           "For confirmation of his own existence and an assessment of his worth, the Roman turned to other people; comrades-at-arms, on the battlefield, district or village neighbors; members of his order- or even the entire populus when they were looking for their votes. No man could be his own judge. Romans could see themselves only through others' eyes [...] each Roman could survey his own honour- or his shame- in the mirror held up to him by his fellow men. The gaze of others lay in wait for him wherever he went and whatever he did he would be aware of others sitting in judgement over him. Romans were never alone; there was always a witness to a man's good or wicked actions."


Florence Dupont, Daily Life in Ancient Rome

Friday, January 1, 2016

Thursday, December 3, 2015

manual de viață. nul. neavenit



nu mai știm cum să trăim
nu mai știm să-mbătrânim
ne-ați înghețat sufletul și fața
ne-ați coborât inima-n stomac
ne-au putrezit gingiile și creierele
am uitat să scriem
ne e limba stâlcită
umblăm împleticiți și
strânși în nădragi supraelastici
totul miroase a nimicie
a Paco ș-a D&G
ochii ne ies din orbite
în flicăr de ecrane negre
căutăm modele la plic
semi-preparate, semi- ambalate
n-avem timp
de cărți, de plimbări
de părinți, de visări
alergăm năuci după
genți, blănuri, smartfoane
aspirăm creduli promisiuni
colorate în agenții deșarte
vom fi toți frumoși, deștepți

sexoși...




Tuesday, November 10, 2015

suferinta colectiva




cuvintele nu pot uneori exprima durerea, tristețea, suferința, neputința, furia, toate gândurile și emoțiile... ce-ai putea sa spui ca să alini golul din ochii lor, cum să stingi agonia din trupurilor lor? de cinci zile încerc, dar de fiecare dată realizez că numai încercarea poate fi încă o palmă peste un obraz deja vinețiu. de unde aș putea să știu ce să spun? am simțit neputința și disperarea dar niciodată atât de lipsită de speranță. se spune că suferința întărește sau că Dumnezeu întărește spiritul omului când trece prin chinuri lumești... așa trebuie să fie pentru că suferința aduce cu ea și un val imens de iubire: iubirea de sine și iubirea de aproape mai presus de iubirea de sine. 
ei ard de cinci zile în fiecare secundă, se zbat pentru că sunt în viață; respiră și se simt vinovați. 


trei zile au mai trecut de atunci. am ascultat psalmii, am citit scripturi.. am căutat răspunsuri, explicații... speranță... încă mai caut, cu toții căutăm.

au mai trecut trei zile în care au crescut numărul gropilor săpate în suferința colectivă... viața e atât de fragilă, suntem atât de fragili și de inconștienți...ne-am zidit trupurile între clădiri înalte și ne-am încătușat în bucăți de metal care ne apără de fulgere și tunete, dar nimic nu ne mai apară de noi.