“There are paths looking for us for a long time
That are reaching us when we’re away
Looking for them on other paths.”
by Octavian Paler, Romanian Writer and Journalist
Translation: Adela Galasiu – memyselfandela, August 2015
Yesterday lovely Nicola Humphries, BBC producer and wonderful woman with a big heart, has given me the opportunity to tell a story.
It has all started with my beloved Rhapsody in Blue and Gershwin, but for me this represents the tip of my soul iceberg. I have dived very deep in my past to the times when I was a happy child. I have spoken about life in the Communism, oppression, the tragic death of my father which has coincided with the beginning of the Romanian Revolution on the 22 of December 1989. I have tried to describe life as it was, but time was short and words don’t come always easy. I have had moments when my mind has frozen and when I could not find my words as in the back of my eyes I have kept my tears, because I cannot get back in some moments in time without feeling again all that intense pain.
I am in love with music because it has always been for me a gate to freedom and a window of hope in the darkest moments. I have remembered the most intense moments that I have lived and witnessed, the blood on the streets of Sibiu, the fear when people were shot, the agony of not knowing what was happening with my father when he did not come back home, the death striking my family when we have least expected, the love and the absolute loss.
I may be different than other people given the intensity of situations that I have lived, things that could have made other people get insane. I have been through things that normally do not happen to other people. Those have been moments that have not destroyed me, but made me stronger. This is one of the reasons why I write and I have started my blog. I believe that despite all pain, beyond all loss, life is both a path and a fight. We can all create a better path and win our battle. I truly believe that none of us should give up, that we should all have peace of mind and hope in our heart for the day to come. I believe it because I have been myself on the edge of despair and I have looked into the abyss of depression many times in my life.
As I came out of the BBC I have entered the Church of All Souls. I believe nothing is accidental. I have been not given the chance to speak about me alone, but the chance to recall and mention my mother, my father, my love, my loss, my hope. Maybe it was a way of setting myself free and closing a deep pain of the past, a bleeding succession of losses that I have lived with for a long time.
500 words, memyselfandela, February 2014
Photos: Adela Galasiu, February 2014
Many thanks to wonderful Nicola Humphries and BBC 4, Soul Music.
God, have mercy, let it rain today,
My heart is so black, like my mind in ways.
Oh , there was a time when I could feel his taste.
His smiling eyes before me, tears down my face.
Sin for sale. Lover, will it feed your need?
Tell me, why you planted all these devil’s seeds?
What is now the truth? Can we get it back?
It’s was on the inside but you lost it’s track.
What was clean and pure is now left outside
On these paths of living we walk without guide.
What you knew and hid kills our frail tomorrow.
Bring your love back, lover, I may die of sorrow.
Bring life back, reborn, wash my love with tears
Be not scared to feel, love above all fears.
memyselfandela, January 2014
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.
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.
The New Year has come, on silent toes or with a great noise, the New Year is here. For the happy ones that will party all night surrounded by the loved ones. For the forgotten ones that nobody calls. For the angry dominant man that beats his wife just to make her more obedient. For the lonely granny that feeds her cats and all the stray cats every day. For the tired doctor who deals with more and more drunk people and accidents tonight. For the tired mother who has finally managed to make her baby sleep. For the happy lovers that make a special night out of this change of the year. For the young bullied girl who wishes that this year her colleagues will stop biting her. For the ones that got dumped on Christmas or New Year. For the ones that know that this year their cancer will bring them on the other side. For the babies that have just got born tonight. For the monks that spend all night in prayer for the entire world. For the poor who today may have found a bit of extra food from a rich people’s party. For the abandoned ones that nobody accepts in their home. For the soldiers who may receive today a card from their family. For the ones that can still love with all their heart and for the ones that can only love themselves. For the ones that always smile and the ones that cannot stop crying.
God watches us all at this very moment and sighs as the New year comes. For some full of pain, for some full of dreams, the same sun is rising upon us all. And from the ashes of yesterday new hope gets born.
Happy New Year 2014 World!
Photo: Andre Schlauch
300 words, memyselfandela, January 2014
Blue jeans, white shirt… When he walked into the room with his loud friends her eyes turned his way. Sitting at the table next to them she could not help but hear the loud conversation they had about beer and kung-fu movies. She smiled. His eyes met her somewhere in the middle of the distance and stopped when seeing the strange passion in her eyes. That was where it all started.
Her cigarette continued to burn, just like her eyes used to burn once at the sight of him as he walked into the room that night. Smoke danced around in a quiet rhythm but as music joined the dance filling up the air the thick smoke lifted like a white ghost levitating above them in the night.
“You never close your eyes any more when I kiss your lips.
And there’s no tenderness like before in your fingertips.
You’re trying hard not to show it baby
But baby, baby I know it…
You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling,
Whoa, that lovin’ feeling,
You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling,
Now it’s gone…gone…gone…”
He was distant yet she didn’t care any more, she had nothing left to lose. She boldly stepped towards him and quietly took his hand for a dance. Why they’ve never danced before she could not tell, maybe because he thought she wasn’t good enough for him. She didn’t know how, but even so she danced. She missed too much that spark she saw once in his eyes. It was gone, she felt it, yet she could not let go, not that night, not that moment. She danced entranced, her arms holding him, an avalanche of feelings invading her heart while looking at him. Her lips could not speak , his heart had long left her, he was gone, gone, gone…
300 words, memyselfandela, December 2013
This post is written in the memory of my beloved father Ioan Galasiu who passed away 24 years ago. My mother was 36 at that time, she had the age I have now. I was 12 years old then, young enough to not realise what was happening, old enough to remember everything for the rest of my life.
If I could I would bring roses to my father, as he loved them so very much. But since I am so far away I bring him the roses of thought and I remember him with all my love.
Every year when Christmas is near I humbly remember what was then and I try to imagine what may have been if dad would have been still alive. Yet I think that God called him earlier because He loved him too much.
Till the day when we shall meet again rest in peace dad, I love you.
In loving memory of Ioan Galasiu, *25.06.1949 +22.12.1989
memyselfandela, 22 December 2013
Carnations. Red bloody curly petals all over the cold hard floor. Pain filling up her aching soul, an acute sense of bloody uselessness, her life breaking to hopeless pieces, dead flowers covering the ground, remembering her of a love that used to mean everything but that has become nothing. She felt no longer his presence, no longer his loving words, no longer his loving touch, she felt abandoned like a piece of unwanted trash, rejected like a broken mechanism that could no longer tick with sounds of life once known. All left was only the disfigured shadow of the man she loves.
Pain. A way out she prayed to see again. No idea how tomorrow would look like. Not the vaguest strength to carry on with this tragedy. Him, laying sleeping drunk on the floor, holding still in his fists the rest of the carnations brought to tell her what he didn’t know how to verbalize anymore, him all surrounded by the rest of the bleeding shreds scattered allover by her in an attack of passionate rage ignited by seeing him coming again in a state that never stopped to humiliate her in front of family, neighbors, strangers.
She, in a corner, crying, endlessly cursing her own life and wishing she would have never been born or no longer been alive. He, in another corner, sleeping, seeing in his dream her beautiful face, radiant with the love she used to give him, as he caressed gently her cheek, feeling so bloody guilty but so in love with her while kissing her forehead, this awesome woman that could no longer see how much he bloody loves her, how much he is depressed because of not knowing how to turn back the time and start it all over again. With her. From scratch.
what weighs the most
in the gravity of feelings:
to love or to be loved?
missing one or another
feels just as painful as
a bird trying to fly with only one wing.
ce cântărește cel mai mult
în gravitatia sentimentelor:
a iubi sau a fi iubit?
lipsa uneia sau alteia
se simte la fel de dureros ca și
o pasăre ce încearcă să zboare doar cu o aripă.
33 words, memyselfandela/ Adela Galasiu, September 2013
Words streaming from the heart that used to know her, a piece of paper bearing the trace of his feelings. It did hurt her but in her soul she was still in love, she was still there in time, in his arms. It did break her but her mind was still touching his as she thought of him. And no matter what she could still reach him, no matter where he was now. Life has never broken her love. He was away. He was on his own way carved through life. On his way. Maybe on his way back one day.
100 words, memyselfandela, September 2013
Shades… A million shades… The afternoon was made out of so many shades between the black and the white.
The sky was not perfectly blue, the heart was not perfectly light, the hope was not really a hope.
If it would have been love or no love at all, all would have been so simple, but the heart was flooded by all those shades of colors and feelings and electricity boldly lingering in their touch. It was a delirium of things and images passing before her eyes while she was processing the remains of the previous days.
“Why is life not simple like in those romantic movies where all is fine?” was the thought lingering in her mind while watching him stop in front of another little shop, with the amazement of a child that has just seen something he was hoping to discover for a lifetime.
Entering the shop she realized that it would make a beautiful present to compensate his birthday. She missed it, it’s true, but not because she didn’t care, but because she didn’t know him yet back then. But still, she would have loved to have been there with him that day, and in her heart she was.
He loved them all. It’s true, they were all beautiful ties, hand made, real, just like he loved to feel authentic and sharp and real…
With a smile in the corner of her soul she sent him to have a look in the back of the store while she took the tie he had admired in the very first moment. 69 pounds, that was the price. It was perfect. The colors were perfect, shades of color, shades of life. The price spoke volumes. To him it would have probably meant an erotic thing, but to her it was a tangible translation of the moon dust trapped inside their bones, of their breath as they were kissing and talking about the muses watching over their love, of the raise and fall of their entwined souls, or the incarnation of all the things that were present in that very second when she wished him happy birthday, now, better later than never.
In the back of her mind there was only a song lingering talking about the raise and fall of the same moon dust that was still shining in his eyes just like that night when they have met the first time, not even knowing if tomorrow will ever come or if there will be a chance for another minute together.
The day was fading, in the corridors of the city, in the tunnels covered in graffiti, as the two lovers were getting back from a city adventure that meant all and nothing, while lights were shining on the side of the road, like fireflies dancing songs known only to themselves.
And the light was dying in millions of shades of obscurity, while the moon, all alone, saw the loneliness crawling back in the souls of the eternal loners.
500 words, memyselfandela, September 2013
Share with me your afternoon
A bread, a knife and a bunch of dreams that might be melted
In the same living mold.
Share with me all your passion
A bed, a night and the construction of a reality that could burn
All the emptiness.
I may flood your space, you may not have the stomach for me, our gates may fall
I may never be able to contain all your beauty
Or we may end up hidden in each other.
Dare to open your eyes
Open them wide, you may find
that we happen to share the same madness.
100 words, memyselfandela, September 2013
storm in a distance
smell the pressure in the air
wind caressing the life around
grass bending in a warm vivid dance
when rain sends in my eyes
drops to quench my fire.
33 words, memyselfandela – August 2013
mute words speak
for the tears in my soul,
so You take them,
make them a river,
make my heart a stone,
crush me, make me a pot
to burn all the pain.
33 words, memyselfandela – August 2013
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.
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.
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
Once upon a time there was a love story between a simple man and an ordinary woman. Little matters how they got to know each other, maybe it was at one of the same social events that they were both attending. It was love at first sight, he used to say that he fell in love with her inner light, but in her humility she didn’t even know that she had it. She loved his spirit and wisdom and everything about him. He was like no other, and the love shining in his eyes was incredible.
Happy days they have lived together, yet they knew that he will need to leave one day for a while, for a final battle. He was determined to make peace with his past, to solve his problems, so that no bad memories could ever again threaten their happiness. But nevertheless, they were happy and they were one heart, so problems didn’t seem to matter.
They have spent time reading and dreaming and sharing the beauty of life in a way that nobody ever did. And for a spell they were completely lost in their universe of absolute love.
One day as they went on the beach he built for her a wonderful sand castle and he decided to close it under a glass cover so that she could have it always close to her in her house until he was back. It’s not an ordinary castle, it was their castle.
“Wait for me , hide your soul inside the castle, and in no time I’ll be back to you my Love”.
The day before he left she took him in the woods. A beautiful light was shining there and there were flowers everywhere as the spring was bursting with joy and color. Walking on paths known only by her they found a quiet place and stood under an old oak tree. And she took a picture of him as he was smiling leaning against that tree. As he saw the tree he said:
“It’s a most extraordinary tree, but I can’t understand why.”
And she told him that it was so because the tree was not alone, but loved and surrounded by the most beautiful green ivy. “The tree has many scars, yet he is covered by the ivy that gives him his strength. They are one, and this is love, they never let go of each other”.
He smiled. Yes, NEVER LET GO. Of course it made sense. And as he got inside the train that took him away from her he fell asleep smiling thinking of her love and the beautiful tree and the ivy…
Days have passed and day by day he forgot her more. The eyes you don’t get to see you forget, they say. She was writing him every day but he hardly found any time to answer her. His problems were solved, his life was secure , everything was all right yet no matter how much she loved him, he failed to hear her anymore.
And his absolute love crumbled like a handful of sand flowing between his fingers. He had a stable life yet his soul was empty and he was not happy , never happy as he used to be by her side. But maybe he was scared that he could not make her happy or maybe he forgot all the happy days. Sometimes in his dream he used to see her smile and hear her calling his name, he felt her kiss on his lips and her forehead leaning against his. And he kept telling himself again and again:“I need a bit more time, but one day, soon, I will go see her, and I will make things right and one day we’ll be happy.” And today became tomorrow , and that became one day soon, and then this became someday, and the day never came and his heart left her more and more.
She felt him far away and it pained her just as the blood draining from one’s heart must hurt. And she felt cursed and abandoned yet she was true to her love. “NEVER LET GO”. And she thought to herself that maybe something horrible happened to him and so he can’t make it back to her yet. And she waited, and wrote him how she missed him and how much she loved him. Yet no more answers…
Not many years have passed and the news of her death arrived to his ears. It was only in that moment that he remembered her eyes and smile. A veil was suddenly lifted from his eyes and he realized that even though he took her love for granted she was now no longer there. And he saw the piles of letters in a corner of his library, abandoned, forgotten and never answered…
He got scared and felt sick and desperate. As he felt the pain creep in his heart he decided to attend the funeral so he went to at least see her a last time.
In her house, that now was unchanged, he saw on the wall the picture she took of him. “Never let go” he remembered, as his heart crashed in pain… And he realized that he got so lost in his own idiocy and crazy life that he let go the only soul that ever truly loved him. Willing to see her again he entered the room where the wake was being held. God, he hated wakes, but he wanted to see her, touch her, maybe it wasn’t true… maybe he still had a chance…
As he entered there he saw a simple closed coffin, a red rose fading on it and on a side table, under a glass cover, a crumbled sand castle…
“Oh how I love you… “ he mumbled, his tears flowing as rivers all over his face… “My Love, how could I have been such an idiot as to leave you?”
His knees couldn’t sustain his weight anymore and he was helped by few people to have a sit next to the coffin. As he touched the cold surface he leaned his forehead on it just as she used to lean her forehead on his years ago and he screamed:
“Oh my God, please, please make a miracle, please take me instead. My Love, please forgive me for what I’ve done, please forgive me, I would do anything to turn time back, I would do anything to make you happy…Anything, anything… Please forgive me”…
As he cried so badly he felt a ghostly light hand touching his shivering shoulder. The room turned around him and all turned black. Then, feeling his heartbeat in the temples and ears…
…. he finally opened his eyes and saw her loving eyes crying in front of him…
At first he could not believe what happened and he looked around. They were again in that wonderful forest where they have been years before. He was leaning against the oak tree and a wonderful light was shining over them.
“Love, how come you are here, where are we?” he mumbled.
“The day you left you’ve had the most horrible stroke my Love , and you’ve been caught in a nightmare for many years. And when I saw you dying I was in such a pain that I asked God to have mercy on me and take me also. I think I died of a heart attack. But I know that God smiled and decided I deserve to be here with you, so He turned back the time…”
Suddenly his heart exploded with joy and as he held her in his arms and kissed her he whispered:
“We really have a second chance Love?”
“Yes my Love. Just remember, NEVER LET GO.”
Photos of the forest: memyselfandela, 2013
I love birds. These days I was watching a couple of birds that have the nest near by. Everything in their life is so simple and true. Every minute he or she fly over to their babies and bring them food and take out the dirt. No questions about life, no fears, nothing but love and devotion and a complete surrender to what God created them to be.
I wish people were like these small creatures. TRUE. HONEST. LOVING. REAL. Capable to take full responsibility for the connections they make. Capable to mean what they are saying. Available really for the real life not lost in illusions.
I loved everything about you. For many reasons and just because. To me you are a miracle from God, I fell in love with the beauty of you. I loved the way you said my name. I loved the way you wanted to tell me things. I loved your smile. I loved how you translated for me. I loved your eyes. I loved your laughter, it was so very beautiful. I loved your body and the look in your eyes in the middle of the night. I loved that we were so very connected. I loved laughing with you, breathing with you, being with you, asking you questions. I loved our conversations in the night. I loved that you cared about me. I loved you even when you felt awkward around me. I loved you even when you behaved like a fool. I loved your hugs and how they felt so warm and safe. I loved how you trusted me and how I trusted you. I loved knowing you and you knowing me. Oh how I loved you… And I still love you, and I will always love you, but you shouldn’t know all this.
Today’s thought goes to all those that are going through pain or live with pain. Physical pain, psychological pain, loss, grief, despair. Pain is the voice of unbalance, of missing something/someone vital for our body or soul. Pain can be the result of external influence coming from life, other people, events we cannot control, feelings we cannot cope with.
It’s a great privilege in life to have someone with us in the moments of deepest pain and anguish. Just as it’s a great privilege to be able to be there for someone in pain. Usually God, in His mercy, allows someone close to us, be it a member of the family, a friend or even a stranger, as it is said, that nobody is given more to suffer than they can endure. I have seen often in life the test of pain given to people but also the merciful holding hand, similar to Saint Veronika wiping off the sweat for Jesus in the darkest hour.
Whether it is a stranger or a friend that goes through pain and torment, please remember to be considerate, caring and loving, this meaning much more in those moments that in normal days and under normal circumstances. Whether you give your compassion or love out of goodness or grounded on religious beliefs, the only thing that really matters is that you care, not why. Don’t turn your back on someone next to you because it feels funny to talk to them. If you find nothing to say at least hold their hand. It is often in gestures like this, often even without words that we can comfort enormously others.
I write all this because I witness every day love being given and denied, care being offered or refused. We, humans, supposed to be the most evolved living creatures on Earth, can often learn from out little brothers, animals, when it comes to compassion. They are pure at heart unlike most of us. They don’t ever think “IF” to love or give compassion or offer a hug, they just do it. Whether it’s your dog or cat comforting you when you are crying, whether it’s a wild animal never leaving another that is wounded, whether it’s a dog jumping in the fire to save a human. We have all seen it. But do we ever learn from it?
I have passed myself through heartbreaking moments in this life. And just like Jesus I have asked God in my mind “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?”/”My God, My God, Why have You forsaken me?”. Yet He has always opened my eyes later on that He never did forsaken me, but He was holding my hand through it all, silent. God is not far away in the cloudy Heaven, distant and indiferent. God is here, sometimes invisible, sometimes hidden in a friend’s face, sometimes disguised as a beggar at the corner of the street. He comes in our life and often we don’t even see Him, don’t welcome Him, don’t thank Him. Yet He loves us like nobody else because He is our Father, the eternal Love and Forgiveness. And if He is silent in our life it’s only because that is the only way He can allow us to make our experience and learn our lessons in this life and journey.
For those of you who go alone through the test of pain sometimes, please remember that He is there, invisible, with you, because nobody knows better then Him the absolute solitude of those moments for our human soul. He said it so clear Himself when He was on the cross: “Eli, Eli, lama Sabachthani?”
1 “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?
Why are You so far from helping Me,
And from the words of My groaning?
2 O My God, I cry in the daytime, but You do not hear;
And in the night season, and am not silent.
3 But You are holy,
Enthroned in the praises of Israel.
4 Our fathers trusted in You;
They trusted, and You delivered them.
5 They cried to You, and were delivered;
They trusted in You, and were not ashamed.
6 But I am a worm, and no man;
A reproach of men, and despised by the people.
7 All those who see Me ridicule Me;
They shoot out the lip, they shake the head, saying,
8 “He trusted in the Lord, let Him rescue Him;
Let Him deliver Him, since He delights in Him!”
9 But You are He who took Me out of the womb;
You made Me trust while on My mother’s breasts.
10 I was cast upon You from birth.
From My mother’s womb
You have been My God.
11 Be not far from Me,
For trouble is near;
For there is none to help.
12 Many bulls have surrounded Me;
Strong bulls of Bashan have encircled Me.
13 They gape at Me with their mouths,
Like a raging and roaring lion.
14 I am poured out like water,
And all My bones are out of joint;
My heart is like wax;
It has melted within Me.
15 My strength is dried up like a potsherd,
And My tongue clings to My jaws;
You have brought Me to the dust of death.
16 For dogs have surrounded Me;
The congregation of the wicked has enclosed Me.
They pierced My hands and My feet;
17 I can count all My bones.
They look and stare at Me.
18 They divide My garments among them,
And for My clothing they cast lots.
19 But You, O Lord, do not be far from Me;
O My Strength, hasten to help Me!
20 Deliver Me from the sword,
My precious life from the power of the dog.
21 Save Me from the lion’s mouth
And from the horns of the wild oxen!
You have answered Me.
22 I will declare Your name to My brethren;
In the midst of the assembly I will praise You.
23 You who fear the Lord, praise Him!
All you descendants of Jacob, glorify Him,
And fear Him, all you offspring of Israel!
24 For He has not despised nor abhorred the affliction of the afflicted;
Nor has He hidden His face from Him;
But when He cried to Him, He heard.
25 My praise shall be of You in the great assembly;
I will pay My vows before those who fear Him.
26 The poor shall eat and be satisfied;
Those who seek Him will praise the Lord.
Let your heart live forever!
27 All the ends of the world
Shall remember and turn to the Lord,
And all the families of the nations
Shall worship before You.
28 For the kingdom is the Lord’s,
And He rules over the nations.
29 All the prosperous of the earth
Shall eat and worship;
All those who go down to the dust
Shall bow before Him,
Even he who cannot keep himself alive.
30 A posterity shall serve Him.
It will be recounted of the Lord to the next generation,
31 They will come and declare His righteousness to a people who will be born,
That He has done this.”
Have you ever thought how much power your words, simple words, have? Like asking a question that for us seems to be simple or like telling someone a positive word that can change not only their day, but maybe even their life. Have you ever though of this? If not, let me tell you a story so that you will understand better.
This is the story of a young woman that has dreamed all her life to have a child. Yet, like in any real life story, what one wishes may end up by not being the same thing with what life brings.
When she was very young, Mary has never thought that having a child might ever be an issue. She grew up among children and she loved them all, and her childhood memories were so very unique and beautiful that she knew she must oneday create that beauty for her baby as well.
Yet as she grew up she witnessed situations of young girls having unwanted pregnancies and she heard people talking with a mean passion about those unhappy situations. So as she matured she was rather stressed by the thought of getting pregnant too soon or unmarried. In her heavily religious environment and judgemental society, among neighbours and people that were more than curious about all the pain and all that anyone around does in the constant hunger for sensational and gossip, Mary knew that this is a very delicate issue. A personal issue it should have been, but the world she was living in made it much more complicated than that.
So, because she was a responsible human being and after much thinking, Mary ended up oneday by taking the contraceptive pill. Of course from a religious point of view it was a great sin, and also none of her friends gave her any advice on that . Also her mother was not open minded enough to talk to her about life. And having an unapproachable mother made it not easy for her to take decisions, but she made her choices thinking of choosing the smaller evil.
Years later, after getting married and when she thought it would be time to have a child, Mary gave up on the contraceptive pill. But that day has been only the first day of a life she would have never imagined.
After the time passed she realised that the dream she carried in her soul was slipping away from her, little by little. She understood that something was wrong with her. But at the same time she had to face the mean enquieries and curiosity of a whole cortege of family and friends who were asking her again and again the same idiotic question: “when are you finally going to have a child? Your bloodline will die.” To make things even worst, all her relatives, friends, neigbours and work colleagues were having babies one after another. It seemed like life was making a giant prank on her expense. And every time when she saw other women around holding their children in their arms she felt like dying more and more.
She hoped then that going to a specialist will solve the problem, but that did not happen. Instead she was sent from specialist to specialist and none was good enough to figure out what was wrong with her. Or maybe her dream was not yet meant to come true.
And she gave a serious thought to adoption, but as much as she loved children, not only that adopting was very complicated, but also even without having a child of her own she knew that the bound to a child of her own blood must have been something different and stronger.
After years of battle on her own , as none in her family supported her, Mary ended up by closing in herself and not talking to anyone anymore. She avoided talking to all the people that have hurt her in the past with their lack of sensibility and questions. She left her husband, she kept distance from all the family. She felt like her life was very much doomed and cursed, and so she ended up by burying that loving heart she used to have, to burry it so very deep that she could no longer hear that voice of unspoken pain that she had accumulated over years and years of failing and not being supported in any way.
To Mary this was a wasted life. Little it mattered to her that she helped others or that she cared for people’s pain becuase she knew exactly what pain is.
She used to keep inside long conversations with God and ask for forgiveness for all those years in her life when she used the contraceptive pill, and she asked for forgiveness for what she considered to be the heaviest sin of her life, a sin that nobody could have erased to release her from the endless curse.
She used to sit in the park sometimes watching the children play, with a heavy heart, with a smile on her face but an endless sorrow flooding her being.
One day, talking about her life to someone, a stranger that knew nothing about her life, she was answered: “You are such a special woman that God still needs a lot of time to create a soul for your child. It takes longer for you than for other women because your child will be the most special gifted little soul you have ever seen, and many will envy you.”
Here is where the story stops. Little matters what happened next. Life is open and Mary could have seen her dream come true, or maybe she ended up by dying alone and still dreaming of her little child and aching for every year when she grew older on her own.
It is often in life that we cannot come close to understanding someone else’s pain and life struggle, as we can only see with our subjective eyes and understand nothing but our problems. Often we have no sensibility towards other people and their pains.
And we often judge other people’s pain as “not as bad as ours”, because “our pain is the greatest”.
Is this a corect way of seeing life? If we are centered only on what we feel and need and experience and don’t think what sort of feelings we give others, what sort of a life are we living and what are we?
Lazy morning, no big worries, just a plan to go to the city. A day that might start like any other, that could be dull or beautiful. Is it the destiny to decide? Or is it my choice?
Before I go out of the door I want to taste something I had in my fridge, but that I was keeping for “better days”. Yet you know, as I sit here I realise that when we only think in terms of “better days”, “tomorrow”, “soon” or “later”, nothing happens, and often that postponed happiness never comes. It’s like never having the guts to just LIVE and BE HAPPY.
So TODAY I decide that there’s no tomorrow. TODAY is the only day that I have, maybe the last day of my life, maybe the first of the rest of it. So TODAY is the creme brulee day.
When I crack the crust of my creme brulee millions of memories invade my brain and soul. This treat used to be a Sunday treat in the family of my mother, in times when we, children, used to gather in my grandmother’s house and get around the table with an unspoken desire to taste the heavenly sweetness of what my aunt or grandmother had prepared. Only the sight of this steaming beauty used to make me smile at that time.
I remember how it used to be prepared, with fresh eggs from our courtyard hens, fresh milk and care and love, but mostly with a patience that me, the child of that time, did not posess, as for my restless soul the only wish was to taste the result.
Now with my adult mind I remember all that. But I also remember things found out much later. Like the unhappy marriage of my aunt, like the way her husband was beating and abusing her and how she decided to suffer and accept it all for the love of her children, children that also did not treat her right when they were always naughty and mean towards her, copying the ugly attitude of their father towards this woman that in my eyes was nothing but love and patience, just like a saint. She did suffer it all till the last day of her sad painful life because her mother, my grandmother, tought her that “it’s such a shame to divorce, and people talk”.
Now she moved to heaven, life has continued without her battered hands and hard working spirit, without her patience. Maybe now her children regret her, now that their life has no more love and guidance. Now the son that was laughing at his mother hates his father, but that is another story.
When I taste creme brulee I remember life itself. But mostly I remember innocence and childhood. I remember the garden and the columbines I used to pick and how amazed I used to be by all that beauty of free summer days, like a child without worries and with little dreams in the heart, small dreams, full of light, light like the fluffs of dandelions flying around… The age of innocence when every feeling felt so intense, as the feelings were bigger than my tiny heart and they were bursting me with sadness or joy…
And as I sit here and remember all these images coming out of my memories, with sounds, tastes, colours, laughter and tears, I realise what a fragile thing life is, how much a moment can mean and how profound it can be to just sit and remember. I remember all the departed, in an absolute love and gratitude. As I know that they watch over me and all the others left in my family. They are our shining stars , not lost, but living in a dimension connected to ours, and waiting for us to get back to them in memories, to hold them and cherish them until oneday we will meet again.
TODAY is a day for creme brulee. TODAY I can dive in my childhood, TODAY I am alive, TODAY I embrace life and through life all around. TODAY, even if the sun might not shine outside, it radiates out of my beating heart.
700 words, memyselfandela, June 2013
When she talked about love it was almost like talking about life itself. It has been a lifelong quest and mystery. Yet with her adult mind she could finally get close to what love was and what love wasn’t.
When she was young she imagined love must be a sort of peaceful place, very much like her home used to be when mom and dad didn’t argue violently because he drank too much or because something went terribly wrong. She knew things were not right with mom and dad, yet they were her only image of love.
And then , after dad was gone, her love image started to fade. Love was for her a place far away from that heartbreak and sadness and tension she used to feel floating in the air of that tiny place she used to call home. Home felt no longer like home…Love was the escape from that sad prison, was a pair of arms to hold her with no word instead of constantly blaming her for not being the perfect child. Love was a sunny day far far away…
Years have passed and she had grown. She had no idea how other women were like, she only knew that in her childish way of feeling life and the world she will one day find out what love is. She gave her best to the men in her life. Yet none of them ever came close to make her feel loved. She got so used to see them preoccupied only by themselves and their needs and wants, by their rules and pleasures, never looking at what she feels, never trying to ever make her smile, never caring… In the end they were for her a list of people, each one with other huge qualities and flaws, each one turning his back in their sleep instead of holding her near, each one thinking only about their damn control and desires, never about the beauty of love and life together… At that point she accepted that probably she was never to find the love. She was tired. Tired of always giving it all and seeing the man in her life only take and never care about filling up her soul with something too. Tired of feeding his soul with trust, strength, hope, tired of putting a shoulder to forever solve his problems and never getting to live a day when he was finally done with those problems and looked at her. Tired of being robbed of ideas and feelings, of giving all her love just to receive sometimes a friendly kiss… Tired of treating all like kings when they treated her like a pauper that needs to wait and forever be understanding and patient for one day, one day love will be possible. And that one day never came.
Some called her muse, some good friend, some empath, some angel, and funny thing, they all said they loved her even if they didn’t because they were too busy loving themselves. They have all regreted her when she left. But she knew that none had really loved her. They were in love with how good she made them feel about themselves, not in love with her.
One day she knew that the change was there. She was tired of being alone. She was tired of giving love to people that could not love. She knew that she doesn’t need to proove anyone anything, because she was beautiful and that was all. She was, just because. She knew that she doesn’t need any man to tell her how golden she is. That she doesn’t care anymore if they ever had or made time for her. That it didn’t pain her anymore, for she had all the time in the world now, and she was no longer exclusively anyones but belonged only to herself. That was the day when she realised that SHE WAS THE LOVE. That she was healed of the lack of confidence and of all that cursed lifelong pain.
Love is patient, love is kind, love is childlike. Love does not feed the ego, but cares about the soul. Love IS. With no excuses, postponing, selfishness… It simply IS.
Do not think it, live it. In private, behind a closed door or in the open, regardless of the way how others judge you.
Love, true love, the capital “L” love, doesn’t need legal papers, money, it’s not a choice, it’s your number one priority, for if it’s true love, it fills up your soul so much that you can’t see anything and anyone else. And if you don’t feel it there, if you have to ask for it, beg for it, if you are the constant giver, if you forever need to wait for it to work, or if that love needs pretexts to be able to even start, then dear friend, keep going.
Trust me, one day you will understand what LOVE IS.
I miss you in a dimension where no moment is robbed, guilty or cursed.
I miss you and I’ll never call you, for you have not yet created the path to me.
I miss you , and the thought that you are away pains me so much that I don’t speak your name.
I miss you, body that complets my rib, right here, where you should just be and stay.
memyselfandela, June 2013
I’ll write you about the moments when you face life
Like a boxer ready to be hit again straight in the face
Wearing scary tattoos on every inch of his chest
But nothing but fears inside it.
I’ll paint you all you can’t stand
Like not being able to taste life freely
But only in small sips given in constrained limited relationships
Humble ratio – shots versus an endless thirst.
I’ll sing you about all that makes you feel bad
Stirring this rain that is endlessly pouring over your soul
Building your need to escape from this restraint universe
In ephemeral ramshackled paralell castles of sand and words.
I’ll strew you all the times
When you’re so busy dreaming that you miss your own life
Between getting drunk and two advertisements that repeat themselves
Making it all feel like an endless depressing Sunday evening.
I’ll demolish all the strength you’ve never had
But that you dream to steal from every possible corner of street
And all the moments when dwarf souls rejoice
In laughing of your deepest misery.
I’ll scatter life in sunless moments
Hopeless shelterless bloody moments ,without self esteem or stamina
And if in between you might glimpse love,
It will be not in the light, but in the deepest hell of existance.
memyselfandela, June 2013
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.
doing so, It once again did what It shouldn’t have done in the first, and glanced at the letter once more.
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.”