The Return to Innocence
Memory. One of the strongest muscles in our being. It can contract and ruin your life crushing you underneath or it can gently lift your soul in the light, no matter what life throws at you.
When I was a child my grandmother used to have in a corner of her garden a columbine that used to grow again and again every year. I remember how fascinated I used to be as a little girl by the filigree shape and the delicate yet robust structure of this flower. I could study it day after day when it bloomed or when it’s petals were falling. I used to be very caring with the flowers. And when I say flowers, I mean beings, living creatures that I respected deep in my child’s heart. It never ceased to amaze me and make me happy whenever I saw it, because only there, in that corner of the garden, hidden in shadow under a lilac tree one could have found my columbine. There were no others, it was unique and the neighbours had none. It’s incredible how simple things that adults don’t even notice can be such an awesome thing for a child.
Many years I grew up with the beautiful columbines, studying them as they opened their purple-blue flowers. Columbines meant holiday, freedom and childhood. Not in so many words, but with a warm cosy feeling deep within. Words meant nothing then, only the heart was full of feelings and of a light that an adult is losing somewhere on the way.
This year I was contemplating my bare garden, frozen and with no trace of life. Then suddenly an incredible invisible force, a singular touch of grace has awaken the life in the sleeping buds and wrinkled flowers that rose their heads and stretched their beings in the warm sunshine. Then mesmerised I have discovered hundreds of columbines.
Is it God’s message that life is beautiful and full of diversity on a multitude of layers at the same time? Or is it just a cosmic coincidence? No matter what it is, it has brought back to me that warm cosy feeling in the midst of a busy life full of stress. The morning when I saw the columbines bloom I felt how one must feel when they win the lottery. To others this means nothing. To me it means the return to innocence.
400 words, memyselfandela, June 1st 2015
Photo: Adela Galasiu, May 2015
The Cardigans – Live And Learn
“I stared into the light
To kill some of my pain
It was all in vain
Cause no senses remain
But an ache in my body
And regret on my mind
But I’ll be fine
Cause I live and I learn
Yes I live and I learn
If you live you will learn
I live and I learn…”
morning tanka
on the small fountain
little bluebird drinking and
dreaming of his love
morning sun laughing over
blades of grass dressed in pure shine
I dream
“I DReam of
a GReeN gaRDeN
WHeRe tHe SUN
featHeRs my face
Like yOUR ONce
eageR KISS”
Photo: memyselfandela, 2012, London
Blue fields
Blue scents rising to
the blue summer burning sun
Lavender blooming.
Jeune lionne – l’ amour , Nichita Stanescu
Jeune lionne, l’amour
a sauté sur moi.
Elle m’avait guetté, toute tendue,
depuis quelque temps dejà.
Ses blancs crocs, elle me les a enfocés dans la face,
aujourd’hui la lionne m’a mordu la face.
Et brusquement la nature
se tourna en cercles tout autour
de moi, tantôt plus large et tantôt plus près
tout comme des eaux serrées.
Et le regard jaillit en haut,
arc-en-ciel coupé en deux,
par l’ouie aussi rencontre,
des alouettes tout près.
J’ai porte la main à mon sourcil,
à ma tempe, à mon menton aussi,
mais la main ne les reconnaît plus.
Et elle glisse inconsciemment
sur un désert rayonnant,
sur lequel passe en douceur
une lionne cuivrée
aux perfides mouvements,
pour un temps
et un autre temps…
Bird, Pablo Neruda
It was passed from one bird to another,
the whole gift of the day.
The day went from flute to flute,
went dressed in vegetation,
in flights which opened a tunnel
through the wind would pass
to where birds were breaking open
the dense blue air –
and there, night came in.
When I returned from so many journeys,
I stayed suspended and green
between sun and geography –
I saw how wings worked,
how perfumes are transmitted
by feathery telegraph,
and from above I saw the path,
the springs and the roof tiles,
the fishermen at their trades,
the trousers of the foam;
I saw it all from my green sky.
I had no more alphabet
than the swallows in their courses,
the tiny, shining water
of the small bird on fire
which dances out of the pollen.
Nuts
First day of spring…
sun shines everywhere…
go out, leave the computer…
breath…
see the colour of the sky…
smile and do something crazy…
allow yourself to be nuts today… 🙂
memyselfandela 