Gypsy life

    "Are you Gypsy?"

    The woman at the desk was fixating me with some sort of excitement after I mentioned my country of origin, at her request. Perhaps my very long hair at the time, loose over the shoulders, and my general informal look, combined with her newly acquired knowledge about my birth place, reminded her of romanticized images of Gypsy women. 

    "No...," I replied, feeling that I was about to disappoint. 

    Afterwards, the routine counseling at the school I was attending, transformed itself in a conversation about Gypsies. I tried my best to offer her a realistic image about this peculiar group of people as far as I was familiar with it from my native country.

    But that was before I came to know that I may have Gypsy blood in my veins, indeed. It was later in life when it was revealed to me that my paternal grandmother was an adopted child, and rumor went that her biological father was actually a Gypsy. No way... 

    After all I feel like home with Gypsies. I grew up near a Gypsy community, and my family  even hired two women from this neighborhood to look after me a couple hours in a day when I was little. This community was part of my life as far as I can remember. Gypsies here were so called emancipated, having homes and outfits as everybody else around pretty much, and relationships with them were generally peaceful. Just that this part of the village was somehow louder,  with folks having the habit to deal with quarrels and trivial matters on the street. Moreover, they were known as a sneakier kind of the people, always trying to do something for their advantage. But, let's say this only added to the colors of the place...

    Well, at one point I had to leave the country with Gypsies. Now, I am the one who romanticizes Gypsy  life in general-- with a nomadic disposition, caravans, women with long fluttery skirts and coins in braided hair, with dance and music at the light of a lantern. I don't possess this type of living arsenal, but I'm always on the move. Not in one place for too long, not growing real roots, a suitcase at hand any time...I don't particularly like it, but I kind of got used to it, and learned to embrace whatever interesting comes out of it...More colors...


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Neclintire

     Sunt zile și zile. Manunchiuri de zile. Zile când vreau sa mă tot duc pe drumuri, mări, neștiute, nesfarsite, si zile când vreau sa stau, sa patrulez pe aceeași poteca de mii de ori, sa mă umplu de un spațiu care să-mi devină din ce in ce mai familiar, din ce in ce mai acasă. Un nomad si un sedentar.        Dar acum vreau sa stau. Zile in șir. Sa stau aici, sa fac pași mici doar, nepresati de orele plecărilor, sa ating aceeași materie in fiecare zi. Sa mă desfăt in rutina. Sa descopăr si sa sug energia care e într-un singur loc. Pana la fund. Si locul acesta sa se îmbibe cu energia mea ca un burete din care începe sa curgă. Sa mă împrietenesc chiar si cu ceea ce-mi e ostil: caldura amiezii, țepii cactușilor, scorpionii, aerul prea uscat, toate musculițele care au apărut dintr-o data la caldarusa unde adun resturile de mâncare...      Nu ma mai chemati pe nu stiu unde...
Read more

Freedom

     I did not know that Carl Jung said about life that begins at 40. Good to know because I was tempted to believe that it was more of a personal experience. When I entered my 40s, I felt something remarkable about this age, something that signaled newness. A more open stage, where things that had been in a sort of haze, became clear. Clarity brought immense freedom like I did not experience before. Freedom from anything that would keep me stuck in an idea that was not totally internalized, understood, or honestly dealt with. Freedom is an outset.      Why people talk about getting old at 40? It is a new life that begins here, maybe a new form of childhood. When you are rediscovering everything without the typical child-like clumsiness, hesitation, or ambiguity. It is a stage where known feelings are elevated through a form of consciousness that gives a sense of freedom. It feels like a new self, and yet the same soul; rejuvenating like a new set of clothe...
Read more

Dark and Light

     Who would have thought...? In a day when nothing seemed out of the ordinary... To slip through a hole like Alice in Wonderland... But for me it was no Wonderland, but a dark world where people suffer, cannot do normal activities, they are in pain and cry for help, where disease and death are looming. I mean... I vicariously knew how hard it was for sick people to deal with life, but I got more than ever to feel it myself, to have it... to know it first hand...      A simple accident while showering, overzealously polishing my heel. A sharp pain on the side, then loss of ability to move. Excruciating pain, and crawling like a creature of the earth. A few hours like that, then hardly moving. A muscle strain. Rest, ice, oils helped. Better everyday, then coming back home through the same hole... Running like a deer again.      Happy as if life it's not simply granted, but it's a miracle...
Read more