Don’t be scared of life, of the cold anonymous world.
Cut the wires that feed your fears.
Live today as if it would be the last day left on the face of Earth
Even if everything may crumble around you.
Don’t listen to your clutched fists
Don’t hear the bad words flying around you.
Don’t hide from your dark side.
You have yourself and your gentle thought rising above your eyebrows.
Join your heart for a ride deep inside yourself,
Turn your arms towards who you really are and embrace your soul.
When you will be your own friend
You will never feel empty again in your silent corner of the loner.
111 words, Memyselfandela, November 2013
Mass of stone
as my night falls
dreams of memory, dreams of life
travel through my frozen mind
a solitude greater than life
as I lay down and
die for another night.
Phot: google, Ben Gossens
Isle of Wight, UK, March 2015
The deepest silence / Cea mai adanca tacere
When you don’t condemn, criticize, nor judge, when you grow in more awareness of your thoughts, an intense watching of your inner world of thinking, you gradually find the thoughts will gradually lose its randomness. You will be able to see your thoughts. You will be able to see them separately appearing on your mental screen. You will be able to find the gap between two thoughts. As you are able to find the gap between two thoughts, that gap is the silence. That Silence that is there between two thoughts is the deepest Silence of this whole Universe.
Cand nici nu condamni, nici nu critici sau judeci, cand cresti intr-o mai puternica recunoastere a gandurilor tale cu o intensa observatie a lumii reflectiei tale interioare, descoperi treptat ca gandurile isi pierd spiritul aleator. Vei putea sa iti vizualizezi gandurile. Le vei putea vedea separat aparand pe ecranul tau mental. Vei reusi sa gasesti spatiul liber dintre doua ganduri. Pe masura ce recunosti spatiul dintre ganduri, acel spatiu e liniste. Acea Liniste care se afla intre ganduri e cea mai adanca Tacere din intreg universul.
100 words, memyselfandela, 2012
Motto: “How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.” Virginia Woolf, The Waves
Peace in a distance,
Overwhelming and grand,
My spirit cannot touch it.
I have drowned my words in the blue
In the green and darkness.
Isn’t silence better?
Smashing restless against the walls of my soul,
Photos: Adela Galasiu, 2014
39 words, memyselfandela, 2014
Nebunii Magnoliene / Magnolian FolliesMotto: “Acum sunt mai pustiu ca totdeauna/ Now that I am more deserted than ever
De cand ma simt tot mai bogat de tine/ Since I feel more and more rich of you
Si-mi stau pe tample soarele si luna/ And on my temples lie the Sun and the Moon
Acum mi-e cel mai rau si cel mai bine./ Now I feel the worst and the best”
magnolias, impeccably graceful
blooming a smile over your sad soul,
lovingly laying a kiss
in the palm of your hand
magnolias, telling you stories
that no fortune-teller could even imagine,
of feelings nobody would ever
believe may exist
magnolias gently blooming
like the young season that brought you into my life
with this warm memory of my restless heart
looking over you sat on a quiet bench on the boulevard
magnolias dancing quiet
loosing their white petals in a vertigo
in an infinite dream where we are no longer broken
but the two halves composing the same incredibly surreal folly.
magnolii, impecabil de grațioase
înflorind un zâmbet peste sufletul tau trist,
asternand cu dragoste un sarut
în palma ta
magnolii, spunandu-ti povești
pe care nici macar o ghicitoare nu le-ar putea imagina,
de sentimente de care nimeni vreodată
n-ar crede ca ar putea exista
magnolii înflorind ușor
ca tânărul anotimp care te-a adus în viața mea
cu această amintire caldă a inimii mele agitate
veghiind peste tine așezat pe o bancă tacuta pe bulevard
magnolii dansand liniștit
pierzandu-si petalele albe într-un vertij,
într-un vis infinit unde nu mai suntem rupti
ci suntem cele două jumătăți compunand aceeasi incredibila nebunie ireala.
100 de cuvinte/ 100 words, memyselfandela, April 2014
Photos: Adela Galasiu 2014
The absolute solitude embraces the caryatids but has not forgotten the smile in your eyes.
I spend my days with my rebel freedom, with the stone kings and the frozen time.
Life continues to pulsate in the depths of my heartless veins.
On the same stairs where you were holding my hand
The rain has replaced the sound of your footsteps beside me.
Your wish for happiness has not yet extinguished my soul.
I write like a lunatic on the corner of every table I happen to find,
In the silent places where I have once been with you.
Lunatic. Yes, I am a lunatic. The absolute lunatic for loving you.
111 words, memyselfandela, February 2014
Love never died with our bodies, lover
In our lost moment
We are still the same dreamers touching the sky.
When I sink in you
I can touch deep your spirit
Far away from this island where you left me marooned.
Mud volcanos burst and
as their earthly colours transfigure
heavenly beauty rises from the pain.
Roots of passion feed the memory
Of the love blooming in your eyes
Like the only roses ever born.
75 words, memyselfandela January 2014
Come back Love, I have waited for you an eternity. I will wait till I’ll have no more reason to be…
Where I sit,
my windows burst with agony
only traces left of the sunshine.
Screams of pain,
from the bleeding heart within
from my dying fire,
life in a crude acknowledgement
and in the oblivion of my aching mind.
but all is left is this day,
What is dull for others
is a deep dive in the consciousness for me,
my long-lost confession from deserted lives,
memories filling the deep blue sea
as a storm,
scratching lines on my face
and crevasses in my soul,
harbours of quiet
where sometimes only a lost echo
It is through this singular beauty,
the spark inside the chaos,
that I now witness
the only path that represents
I am consciousness.
Hanged like a shroud
the sight of a life lived
an escape from this colourless dimension
through the fire that burns deep inside every breath.
Madness it is, yet it is life
above just a carcass, into the soul
erasing all negative just to give life to life itself.
When I will finally open my windows
my silence will flood the outer universes
and my ardent heart
will cast far away the song of this ephemeral moment
so that my reflected souls outside
will know that we only had this day
Thank you Andre, Vandana and Luna Amara.
222 words, Memyselfandela, January 2014
The Sound of Missing You
The sun paints a last trace of life before dying in agony. With it’s last drops of shadow it lingers under my tired eyes.
I carry within the memory of what love used to be. I can still hear our fading steps on the same old roads, on the same grey pavement. I can still feel your arm tight around my waist and your laughter.
Near me other couples chat like we used to, holding hands, blessed to not know how futile and doomed this moment of happiness is, sentenced to only live for a glimpse in time.
I was a fool to believe that you can make a choice. No. I chose you. The one you really are, not the one that hides his face. The one in which I believe, not the one that never believes in himself.
Darkness rises all around. In thoughts, in the shivering cold, in the unspoken emptiness. My once loving heart bleeds at the thought that you’re gone, yet nobody can take me the smile that you used to have in your eyes.
Maybe in your dimension you dance now with other masked faces and other smiles give you a passing smile. Yet deep inside you will never find your path on your own, there’s no path without love.
Rain strikes my cheek like your fingers once used to, falling cold, quenching the marks left by your ardent kisses. My lips whisper the shadows of the same name that never ceased to linger in my mind since I last saw you.
Countless prayers go your way, but you don’t even know it. If I would have stepped off the edge of my life I would still have never found you, for you are far, much further than my thought can reach to kiss you good night.
Memories of a madman fill up the sky as I lay myself to sleep. But even in my dream there will only be this burning love that has never ended.
333 words, 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.
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.
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.
123 words, Memyselfandela, January 2014
Life on a platform
I live waiting on the platform for my destined train. Sometimes I overslept in the waiting room and missed it, but most of the times I was here on the platform when it arrived. I have travelled for a while, I have learned new things but when I got off the train I have realized it has brought me back to this station with a name that I am still trying to decipher.
It’s just a normal train station like all others. With a huge clock, with huge windows, with many people carrying around small and big luggages and baggages stuffed with their own existence. Many run after trains they almost miss, others wait a bit restless for their journey, but the most rare kind of passengers are the ones that radiate happiness when they see their train arriving. Not many smile as they step in their train.
Above my head, on a wall, is scribbled Paler’s Decalogue, for some a blasphemy, for some food for thought:
“1.Wait, no matter how long.
2. Wait, no matter for what.
3. Don’t remember quite anything instead. The only good memories are the ones that allow you to live in the present.
4. Do not count the days.
5. Do not forget that any waiting time is temporary, even if it lasts for a lifetime.
6. Repeat yourself that there is no such thing as a desert. There is only our incapacity to fill the void in which we are living.
7. Do not put in the same pot both the prayer and God. Prayer is sometimes a form of hope of the one that does not dare to hope on his own.
8. If this thought helps, do not seek to admit that you hope because you don’t have something better to do or even in order to prevent the outcomes of doing nothing.
9. Bless the opportunity of completely belonging to yourself. Solitude is a whore that doesn’t blame you for being selfish.
10. Remember that Paradise was , most certainly, in a grotto.”
No days or nights are the same. They are all different and this is a blessing in itself.
Sometimes moths circle around the glowing beauty of a single light in the night, in a dance that fascinates me so much that I forget how much I still have to wait to see my train coming. Their mesmerizing dance takes me out of my world for a while.
Sometimes the dirty light reveals the faces of all the unknown people still waiting by my side, some worried, some cheerful, same frowning, some left with only few more drops of life.
Life goes on on the platform. The days grow, the nights slowly fade, the time sometimes pauses. The most beautiful light of all is the sunrise invading like molten gold the quiet platform, flowing between trains and passengers, flooding the huge waiting room in which some just enter and some still wait for an eternity to finally get born.
500 words, memyselfandela January 2014
A Million Shades of Blue
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
The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea At 36
What is life dear friends? Is it a journey, a lesson or a choice? To me it’s all and so much more. I am 36 now and grateful to have met and known each one of you. I am honored by each one of you stopping by to read for a moment in time the imprint of my existence here, in this virtual space that can sometimes be a million times more real and intense than the indifferent reality in which many don’t think, don’t stop, don’t feel. These are thoughts coming from the depths of a mind that you have always heard, but whose bodily envelope you have never got the chance to see till today. This is my tribute to you all and especially to the most unique loners and thinkers I have had the honor to meet through this wonderful expression channel offered by WordPress.
When it comes to life and feelings I have made quite an adventurous journey so far. I know that most of you have been through similar experiences, some of them known to me. I may not know you all, my dear friends sharing this lonesome island of thought with me, but what I know is that my experience is just as unique as my fingerprints, and all of you are just as unique.
My life has started in my early years with the naive me discovering the world in all aspects. Just like you have all done it. But because I was pretty much a loner even then, I have taken in the colors, feelings and characters around me on a more intense note. And in time I found out that there are not many capable of sharing the same intensity of life like me. But it was then when I have also met my darkness and fears, and so I have wasted a lot of time of my life swinging between the devil and the deep blue sea.
It was hard to allow the outer world inside my own world. The most painful was to give something of me to many that have never understood who I am and what hides behind the green of my eyes. That because they were too busy to judge me using units of measure that are far too conventional for the ineffable in me.
The beauty of life has unfolded under my eyes later when I have accepted myself for who I was. When i have embraced my solitude knowing that it will bring me in the end to the best in me. And my solitude has been the greatest teacher and one of the most profound states of mind I have been through.
Just like many other people I have mourned for a lost love or a lost past until the day when I understood that whatever has happened was for a reason. That behind the loss hides the chance to change. Not the world, but myself. Not to die, but to grow. Not to freeze, but to develop. Not to stagnate, but to complete myself.
At the end of that labyrinth I have found that my soul has become my mate and that I am truly my best friend. That was the epiphany of inner balance, me becoming what God has created me to be, the best me, the sensitive me, the passionate me embracing life and capable to absorb and distill it just to offer it in the form of an essence that carries across my own soul.
Every day brings the promise of a new beginning. We don’t need to regret anything, whatever happened was meant to be. And it was meant to be part of our inner growth, mental awakening of heart blooming. I see every day as the first day of the rest of my life. And at this point in my life I embrace both the devil and the deep blue sea. The little devil of wild feelings and thoughts I have tamed in me and the deep blue sea of living, two extremes opposed at the beginning of my existence, but two sides of the same coin that has always been my soul, fallen on the bottom of this ocean called life.
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
It was flowing, vivid, all over my back. Warm. Dribbling. Unceasingly. Waking me up from the tiredness. Waking me up from my own death. Lingering on my spine. Giving me the shivers. Flowing , caressing my skin, and from my skin penetrating inside my tired bones, and from my bones penetrating like an echo in my very soul, echo lingering between the end and beginning of me and between the walls of my solitude… The shower revived me, but it was a fading reminder of your hand. Your hand, lingering in my soul. Your hand, touching decaying flesh but ending in the core of what I used to remember as being me.
Life is a flow. It has been a lot of emotion flooding. It has been a lot of tears drowning me. It has been a lot of paddling alone on a sea of solitude. From the moment I opened my eyes without worries in this world to the point where I was scattered in million painful pieces wondering each if they still belong together or if they should stay forever apart. Life is a flow, just like the time. The time in the sand glass has ended. I have turned it. Now all flows backwards, now my heart fills up with the touch of your longing hand.
In the dark corner of a lost pub we are listening to seagulls screaming on the quay. The waves kiss passionately roaring behind metal bars imagined to keep us safe. An old couple eats supper while we share the taste of light and color. It smells like chocolate brownies and vanilla ice cream. It tastes like heaven and rain, like beads of sweat on your upper lip melted by my lips kissing your very soul. It smells like heaven and you smile beautiful like a rainbow.
300 words, memyselfandela, August 2013
Many people feel isolated and unable to connect with others because of previous negative experiences, depression, shyness or simply because of not finding someone that shares the same interests. In an ocean of personalities we have all some similarities, but no matter how much we resemble, we are unique.
Taking the photograph of this beautiful foxglove reminded me of this uniqueness. Among hundreds of purple foxgloves, this was the only white one. People that are a bit out of the so called “norm” are often not understood or appreciated. Though in my opinion they are the most beautiful and amazing.
100 words, memyselfandela – August 2013
Photo – memyselfandela
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
I am nothing alone, yet a spark in Your infinity.
Don’t turn Your Holy Face from me in the depth of my lonesome hour.
I have left You, yet You come search for me.
I have lost You, yet You find me.
I have humbled my soul by falling, yet You raise my face again in Love.
All is Yours. Omnia mea Tua sunt. Accipio Te in mea omnia. Totus Tuus.
I can hear You in every whisper of the wind
And every little grass sings Your name.
And every little flower rejoices in You
Like I can’t anymore.
I don’t need to put my finger in Your Holy rib to believe
For I simply know that You are here.
But I need You to put Your Holy finger in my heart
So I can live again.
Show me how to take a step after another
The way you teach a child how to walk
And in this humble existence,
On my lone path and from this pained soul,
Show me how I can find the shelter of Your peace
So I can return Your smile.
memyselfandela, July 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.
Smaller Evil, Greatest Pain
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?
White Bird, shake your wing over me
Snow on my lashes with white snow flakes, graciously, silently, vapour like
Strew on the top of my head your wisdom.
Once I did not know you, I was living my life without your song
I was speaking so many words and did not understand any …
Now I have embaced you, you are me, I am silent.
Oh how beautiful it snows with oblivion in my eyes…
When you will fly away, I don’t want to be left behind,
Cover me with your wing, Solitude.
Pasăre albă, scutură-ți aripa deasupra mea
Ninge-mi genele cu fulgi albi, grațios, tăcut, vaporos
Presară-mi pe creștet înțelepciunea ta.
Cândva nu te cunoșteam, îmi trăiam viața fără cântecul tău,
Vorbeam atâtea cuvinte și nu înțelegeam nici unul…
Acum te-am îmbrățișat, tu ești eu, eu tac.
Ce frumos ninge cu uitare în ochii mei…
Când vei zbura nu vreau să râmân în urmă,
Acoperă-mi inima cu aripa ta, Singurătate.