"Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.."- Antoine de Saint Exupéry

Death

Life

adela galasiu blossoms 2

I have looked death in the eyes few times. For others but also for myself. I have been often told that there’s no God and no afterlife, but folllowing my encounters with death I guess I am too convinced of the contrary to listen to those sceptic voices. I do respect what other people think, but respecting others will never reduce my beliefs to nothing, on the contrary.

Most of the people have an absolutely disgusted look on their face when they hear about death. Some venerate it. Some fear it to the extent that they don’t even want to think about it. We’re all aware it exists. Most of us cannot understand it. But the same death that means decay, foulness, nothingness and still, is part of us just as much as it has been part of our ancestors too.

People turn their face away from death because they are scared or because they have been taught that it can bring disease or that it is unclean. Or because they prefer to concentrate on the life, rather than see the whole process, black and white, doing and undoing, life, death and new life again. For the immediate you and me, what matters is today, what we do, what we have, what we eat, where we go. But we live in a society that is equally one of death as much of one of life, isn’t it? Or maybe even more one of death than one of life? We eat meat, we cut flowers, people hunt, people get cremated and buried or offer their bodies to science. People sell weapons and wars are being fought. Some people thrive while others starve to death.

There is not only the beauty and goodness daily put on display for sales targets, but also the reverse side of it all. There are not only new born babies and blooming flowers, but also dead people laid to rest and entire systems that revolve around death itself.  From the undertakers that earn a fortune while dealing with grieving families to the little beetles that eat decaying flesh, all have a little part in it.

Some of the birds that have nested last year have died, and a suite of insects and plants contribute now to taking apart and redistributing every material atom of them. Every little creature and plant that dies gets quickly surrounded by a cortege of creatures, just like a circus that comes to town and gets very busy before the show. Behind the scenes of it all nothing gets saved or lost, but everything is transformed in new matter for life, and so new life can find the raw minerals needed for it to emerge again.

Many years ago, as I was dealing with the water that was trying to find its way into my lungs, I had forgotten who I was or what I wanted from life. What I had eaten that morning or what I had in my bank account had no meaning at all. It was all worthless and the only thing I could gasp for was a breath of air. I was, I guess, not different than a wounded bird that beats its wings one more time before it takes a last breath. A little part of me knew that it could have been the final moment that day. And yes, it was scary. Scary because I had no idea what was about to happen. Horribly scary because I had no control over my own life. There and then I was not ready to give up. Between few heartbeats and a hope for air it occurred to me that I had not appreciated life truly until then. And God how I wanted to live!

In a mysterious way, a hand has been stretched my way. Not only a friendly material hand, but also a divine one. Then, when I finished coughing, with a horrible salty aftertaste and a stomach full of seawater, feeling sick and wet, I thought that it was not the time to go just yet, not until I would have learned the lesson of what life was all about. I think I was determined to take life more seriously.

I think I understand life and death more now, but like any person that has been sightless for many years, I am now awfully blinded by the intense light of the truth. That moment of salvation, the spark of life in my veins and the thought that accompanied them cannot be the result of an evolutionist theory, they are rather a mystery that my human mind is not ready to embrace just yet.

Other creatures are unaware of the realities of our human life. Birds and animals and plants cannot understand our complicated life and needs, our food, our languages, our customs.  They do not consider themselves the greatest in the universe like we do. They have no idea what mathematics or science are, yet they are very much alive and lead a simple happy life. There are a limited number of neurons in our skulls, how could they possibly perceive the infinity of the universe? It is impossible. I am convinced that us humans cannot understand the whole complexity of life, all the dimensions that surround us, all the beauties of the universe and even less the mystery and greatness of the Creator of it all.

…………………………………………………………………..

900 words, Adela Galasiu, 2016

Photography: Adela Galasiu, May 2016

 

 


Yes / Da , Octavian Paler

Yes

“Yes, It isn’t always wise to say
that the muses get silent among weapons..
My words are here and I hold them
as you would hold a spear.
Mother, forgive me, I couldn’t otherwise.
I know you’ve been quiet all life
and I should have , maybe, done the same
but out of our silence
a scream had to gush oneday
and here it is, filling up my mouth with hope and tears
and with a sunny sadness
that is mine, I’m not sure,
mine or my grave’s. But
this has almost
no more importance at all.”

Octavian Paler, Poems

399731_4602676463732_1965716835_n

Da

“Da, nu e întotdeauna o înţelepciune să spui
că muzele tac între arme.
Cuvintele mele sunt aici şi le strâng
ca pe o lance.
Mamă, iartă-mă, nu puteam altfel.
Ştiu, tu ai tăcut toată viaţa
şi ar fi trebuit şi eu să fac, poate, la fel,
dar trebuia odată ca din tăcerea noastră
să ţâşnească un strigăt
şi, iată-l, îmi umple gura de speranţă şi lacrimi
şi de o tristeţe însorită
ce-mi aparţine, nu mai ştiu,
mie sau mormântului meu. Dar
aceasta aproape nu mai are
nicio importanţă. “

Octavian Paler, Poeme

Translation: Adela Galasiu

Photo: Photobucket


Night

Mass of stone
I become
as my night falls
dreams of memory, dreams of life
travel through my frozen mind
a solitude greater than life
invades me
as I lay down and
die for another night.

———————————

memyselfandela, 2013

427121_396256660402445_158430457518401_1516662_1882644872_n

Phot: google, Ben Gossens


Rhapsody in Blue – A Great Honour

BBC Radio 4
After 2 months of waiting here is the episode where I had the honour of sharing my story too. My contribution is dedicated to my beloved father, Ioan Galasiu and to Gershwin’s beloved Rhapsody in Blue. Many thanks BBC Radio 4. bbc Adela Galasiu, 2014


Sleep

aurora-boreal2

As I lay down in the darkest night stars circle over me.
Purple-green waves crush on the air shores
And the frost bites deep in the stone of my core
Petrified, inert, forgotten, wearing deep inside
The runes left behind by your loving touch.pretty-aurora-borealis

Heavy mists fill up the dancing sky,
Lead shroud of silence
Engulfing my breath, closing my eye,
Covering in a distance the last blink
Of the newly born stars bursting in the heartbeat of Orion.aurora-borealis-aurora-borealis-10324487-1600-1034

No caress left to touch me, gone is your summer,
The dragonfly of your soul has long forgotten me.
Visions of light sparkle weary in my mind
As I fade in the endless dream
Of your warm finger drawing circles on my frozen heart.

large123 words, Memyselfandela, January 2014

 


300

55a544642b35756f155e5bd2ae01f06a

Her arms open like the wings of a butterfly as she draws colors nobody has ever lived. People pass her by, but stop for a moment to see the shade of sadness hidden in her broken gypsy smile. People come and go while she imagines universes turning round and round like ticking clocks spinning in the tip of her lost apostle finger, while she tries to recreate out of color and dust the lost paradise. Lost like her thoughts, lost on an island that she never reached, a place where her heart would find finally a breath of rest.

420

Her dress, her black dress, she hated it so. She hated how it made her feel. She hated how he made her feel. She hated all she tried to be for him. She hated that she loved him. She hated to see him write about that dress, using her presence as an inspiration for his stories and phantasies, while she was bleeding inside. She hated him and all the women he was talking to, she hated him with the same passion she has once loved him. Her dress was black that night, mourning for her broken heart and wasted love.

Driftwood-beach1

I have died one night. I have only died so I can learn how to fly. And my greatest dream was to fly over the sea to you. On the beach, where you lay your body and shadow, I rest my head next to you. I try to feel the warmth of your bare feet but I can’t anymore. I try to lay my body next to you, but you don’t even see me there. Yet I look at you, breathing and gazing far away, and the light that fills up your soul flows through me too. And I smile.
—————————————————————————————————-

300 words, memyselfandela – August 2013


The Letter (A Duet Post)

When you read someone like Troy you can’t help but be amazed by the ease and complexity in describing the most intense or painful moments. I have been mesmerized  by his cool view on life. So me, dreamer and poet , I could only try to imagine that someone like him would consider writing by my side. It started as a thought, then it became a dream, then a request and then it ended up like a post forged by two minds and souls.  I am honoured by his grip on reality added to my dreamer perspective.
Here’s the Duet, actually “The Letter”. And I invite you, after reading this post, to follow As Long As I’m Singing, the awesome blog belonging to an even more awesome Soul, Writer and Father: Troy.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The Letter

Death sat at the edge of the bed, slack-jawed and stone-faced. Well, more stone-faced than usual; as the crumpled piece of paper formed an  impenetrable barrier between It and Its intended cache for this night.
Why had It done it? Why had It read that infernal letter in the first? An effortless matter, this should have been. Just one more soul, ready to be extracted. One more life, simply at its wick’s end.
And yet, this time was different. This time, as Death glowered over this weak and puny, yet oddly contented man, a strange new feeling came. A crawling, warming sensation previously unknown to It. Looking at this creature – this sheet-white man-ape of no previous regard – It felt something akin to what It imagined affection might be described as.
Utterly ridiculous!
Shivering, It dismissed the thought altogether and slowly rose from the bed, in order to do what It should have done in the first. But right before
doing so, It once again did what It shouldn’t have done in the first, and glanced at the letter once more.
That damned letter. With its presence, Death knew that this man-ape with the childish grin, would live on. Well, at least until it was her time to be taken too. Sighing resignedly, It stalked forth from the room, forever more trying to forget the words that It had read:

theletter copy

“My Love,

You have waited for me an eternity
Trying to see me in a million faces
Yet you never could, for it was not the time for us.
Tonight sleep peacefully knowing that the nightmare is over
And that I am on my way to you.
Tomorrow, when you will open your eyes
You will see my eyes mirroring you.
No pain, no chain, not even Death
Will stop me this time.
I thought I saw you millions of times
In millions of lives, my Love.
But every time I lost the illusion
Like a smoke scattered above the frozen waters of my broken heart.
For you were nowhere else but here all the time, waiting for me.
Tomorrow, when you will open your eyes
We will finally start to live.
Let the past die and rise from this tomb of agony
For Tomorrow is here
And I am coming.”

———————————————————————————————–
Ela&Troy, 2013


Keep On Playing

1260785_84481055

“Hello my love,
I have just came back from the lady. She is amazing. I was absolutely stunned.
She barely saw me coming in and already recognized so many things about me. She even knew how they used to call me when I was a kid. I mean how could she possibly know that? She must have a sixth sense. As she looked in my eyes and read my palm she told me that in my previous life I was a man. Maybe that is why I am so stubborn in this life? I had an artistic soul, that would surlely explain why I am still so very much into music and art. And she told me you know how you love typing on your laptop, the feeling of touching the buttons? well, in your previous life you had no computer, you had only your piano. And you have spent more time with this piano than with any person in your life”. I guess that’s why I love piano music so much. It must remind me of that life.
I asked her about you and me. She took a long look at my love line and said: I cannot tell you what this love will be. Some things I’m not allowed to say”. But as I was going out the door she said: “He will find you again. Don’t be afraid. Everything happens for a reason”. Must be so, love…
I’m so tired now. Talk to you later.
Good night.”

After finishing her email, she found online the track she loved the most and pressed the play button. Laying her frail body to rest she closed her deep shiny eyes listening to the notes echoeing in the room and falling over her body and mind and soul…
Eyes closed the room was spinning as she slipped in a most strange sleep. She could see in her sleep the room and her body resting  with a smile on the face.

Then she saw how her love was coming inside the room. He called her. Funny, why? She was there. She could see him, why could he not see her?
After trying to wake her up, with tears in his eyes he held her tight. Then called the ambulance. Then rested his head on her frozen heart.
The music… incredible music… Lord, what a fantastic feeling, the divine music kept on playing…

——————————————————————————————————————————

400 words, memyselfandela 2013, Picture it & Write


Night

srse

let the night swallow
the last traces of my smile
fading slowly as I dare not to speak anymore
let the darkness devour
the last thoughts, so that my spirit can rest
let me die for today. turn off the light
so I can get back to life when I see you again
————————————————————

memyselfandela, 2013


The Key

tumblr_mimmucoe8c1r202vco1_500

You received a bunch of keys when you were born
Keys to open dreams and nightmares
And vaults and secret chambers.
Of all only one fits the mold carved in my soul
In my stoned heart.

As you’ll lift it and read its hatchment
You’ll decypher my name, my blood and my pain
And scarlet poems will roll on my tongue
Like drops of blood streaming from the corner of my bitten lips
Torn by roses that grow in a dream
Where we have lived an eternity together.

Return the key in its place
Complete my soul, revive my heart
And fill up my eyes with your eyes
Just like the sky throws itself into the sea
To pervade life and death in an endless smile
Of purple burning morning.

——————————————

memyselfandela, 2013

This is my entry for Picture it & Write


The Statue

The statue.
As he arrived in the square his heart stopped beating for a moment.
Her memory filled up his mind, the image of the days when she was working on this piece, their last month together, the night before she had to leave, her tragic accident.
His eyes looking at the statue he remembered her saying “I’m dead without you”.
He saw just now the dispair the woman silhouette showed, as if she had the premonition of what was about to happen.
“I’m dead without you too.”
There he was, eyes in tears.  Alone with her, lost without her.

copyright-David Stewart
—————————————————————————–

100 words

memyselfandela, 2013

This is my entry for the Friday Fictioneers Challenge


Corner of the Loner 25.01.13

427121_396256660402445_158430457518401_1516662_1882644872_n

Mass of stone
I become
as my night falls
dreams of memory, dreams of life
travel through my frozen mind
a solitude greater than life
invades me
as I lay down and
die for another night.

———————————

memyselfandela, 2013

More here: Corner of the Loner


Embrace

4480530556_9619227cc2

Cand ziua se naste din frigul din noapte
Ma fac punte vie-ntre viata si moarte
La piept sa te strang cu brate deschise
Sa te scot din cosmar, sa-ti umplu inima de vise
Si-mi iarta minutele cand sa te-nteleg n-am stiut
Dar dupa fiece moarte din noapte, rasare un nou inceput

When the day gets born out of the night chill
I make myself living bridge between life and death
To hold you at my chest with open arms
To get you out of nightmare, to fill your heart with dreams
And forgive my minutes when I did not know how to understand you
But after each death in the night, rises a new beginning

————————————————-

memyselfandela, 2013


Last night

take_my_hand

Last night I had an encounter with Death
it was creeping around souls
and stopped to look in our eyes.

We met many times
I watched it powerless while it robbed the life
of people I held so dear.

Last night I reached out the hand of my soul
and my hand took another hand
so Death had to leave sighing.

—————————————–

memyselfandela, 2013

 


Santa Muerte

santa muerte

Spent ages of solitude waiting for your delivery
black faithful angel
your embrace to lift all pain
and to open the door to the other side,
Santa Muerte

Your power reigns over creatures,
most fear you,
some desperately wanting to live forever
some hoping for your merciful hand
to free them from sorrow.

No longer asking for your embrace
Not afraid of your shadow
for Love shines in me stronger than all suns.
You can’t have my heart anymore
for you have never loved.

——————————————-

memyselfandela, 2013


Within

woman-black-and-white

It’s my loner choice and pride
to keep my fire and death within myself.
I don’t fantasize about life or love
nor about passion
I live straight , I love fully, I burn.

It’s because it is all within me
that I need not look somewhere else.
I’ll hide the blooming heart, the dancing fire
and all my dying veins
deep within this soul.

I will not tell you where I hide my soul.
Maybe under the darkest rock,
maybe at the end of the galaxy
where I’ve been created by
the Allmighty hand.

No need for dons to lead my life, nor for princes to save me,
I can’t stand charming lies, for I’ve heard them all.
No need for fantasies to kidnap my heart and soul,
Nor for anyone’s pity, nor for my own regrets.
I live for truth , feelings and facts.

Nobodies slave, I’ll keep my head high
What am I worth if I’m not even true?
I can look in the mirror without fears,
I am myself, and in this solitude
I feel, therefore I am.

——————————————-

memyselfandela, 2013


The Poet And The Pendulum

Our heart hanging, pendulum
Moving between known and strange feelings
Swan song getting lost in the distances
If this is a dream, you are my eyelid closed
If this is a story, you are my story teller.
——————————————————-
Inima noastra atarnand, pendul
Miscandu-se intre sentimente cunoscute si straine
Cantec de lebada pierzandu-se in departari
Daca acesta e un vis, tu esti pleoapa mea inchisa
Daca aceasta e o poveste, tu esti povestitorul meu.

—————————————————————

memyselfandela, 2013


Lord, come Lord, to see what’s left of people…

23 years ago….

“It was 23 o’clock. News from Bucharest:
Started in Timisoara with a peaceful demonstration repressed brutally by the system , authorities and security forces, the Romanian revolution spread rapidly throughout the country, the army passed on the side of the civilians on the streets of Timisoara, Sibiu, Bucharest, Brasov and other cities. The number of young people killed and wounded in the fight for freedom continues to grow. ”

Lord, come Lord,
to see what’s left of people…

Nights long and sad
I think of home
And there I see you

There are nights full of dread
For me in the war.
They are nights of tale there for you.
And Lord, for what a life of nightmare.
And for whom they die in vain?
There are nights full of dread
Where I am afraid to scream
Nights of fairytale
of which we no longer know.

Lord, come Lord,
to see what’s left of people….

Why you don’t not stop
This terrible war?
For what you think
Only of you?
And you don’t even care
of the mother who cries
for her child killed
lying in pools of blood.
and you don’t even care
for those who are no longer
for those who accuse you
from there in the grave.

Lord, come Lord,
to see what’s left of people…
Lord, come Lord,
to see what’s left of people…

Bucharest. The Romanian Revolution has succeeded.
After 25 years of terror the Ceausescu dictatorship was overturned.
Romania has become again free…”
———————————————-

translation: memyselfandela, 2012

revolutia_decembrie2

 


il n’y a qu’un seul amour ~ هناك واحدة فقط الحب ~ there’s only one love ~ nu exista decat o singura dragoste

en regardent notre amour
notre âme rit et pleure
il n’y a qu’un seul amour
à la vie et à la mort

أبحث في حبنا
يضحك ويبكي روحنا
هناك واحدة فقط الحب
للحياة والموت

looking at our love
our soul laughs and cries
there’s only one love
for life and for death

privind iubirea noastra
sufletul nostru rade si plange
nu exista decat o singura dragoste
pe viata si pe moarte


P.S. : I love you

could be that tomorrow
you will not be holding my hand anymore
that my body will melt hidden
and from my heart will grow blue  forget-me-not
whispering you that I’m nothing without you…
other summers will come
over your lion heart
you will breath and live…
live for me too…
P.S. : I love you


Conclusion

~ Love of my life, my breath,

beat of my heart,

shelter of my soul,

light of my eyes,

voice of my solitude

my sorrow and  joy

at the end of my life it is only you

you, my beginning and my end

my smile and my release.

of all anxieties of this life

you are my only conclusion. ~

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=erpMcIq6RYY

~ Amour de ma vie, mon souffle,

battement de mon coeur,

abri de mon ame,

lumiere de mes yeux,

voix de ma grande solitude

ma tristesse et de ma joie

au fin de la vie c’est seulment toi

toi, mon commence et ma fin

mon sourire et ma liberation.

de toute cette vie d’inquietudes

c’est toi ma seule conclusion.~


Video

Tir Nan Og

Tir Nan Og – animated short film directed by Fursy Teyssier


bitter moon

my love
critically crashed from
burning heaven

bitter blue eyed moon
over my brittle soul
you were


Video

Negative – Svet Tuge / World Of Sadness

“Tonight she died all my faith
to the last drop is absorbed country
tonight I was alone in the world
deep in the heart are extinguished desire

To live alone in a world of sadness
the desert cold, long nights
even when the days are gray dawn
with such a life

Tonight my eyes turned to heaven
demanded by the star to stand
but all of them fell to the ground
and gave me the strength to admit himself

To live alone in a world of sadness
the desert cold, long nights
even when the days are gray dawn
with such life and death lures me

I live alone in a world of sadness
the desert cold, long nights
even when the days are gray dawn
with such life and death lures me

Tonight the Angels made the wings
turned the other way
and gave me the strength to admit himself

I live alone in a world of sadness
the desert cold, long nights

I live alone in a world of sadness
night long, and me death calling me
night long, and me death calling me”