Unanswered questions

    They say you need a village to raise a child. As far as my own childhood, it rings true: parents, friends of parents, grandparents, neighbors, aunts, uncles... they all had their part with me. With children of my own though, I had to become the "village,"I suppose... But no matter what, a village it's not enough to deal with the energy, curiosity, inventiveness, awkwardness of a child. One needs an ever watchful eye to take action when a villager fails to see, or act, in case a danger develops out of the blue. A creature with wings that sees even though is not seen, strong and fast to change things for the better in a blinking of an eye.

    I heard many stories about invisible creatures with wings. I believe they are around, even though I do not have a sense of them. I get goosebumps when I remember childhood moments when things could have gone wrong for me, but they did not; even with my own kids, when a moment of forgetfulness on my part could have turned ugly, but somehow everything remained the same. As if when human vigilance was weak, somebody took over and things were simply normal. Those quiet miracles, when a scenario has all the ingredients to become tragedy, but in a very soft and unassuming way, nothing unusual happens. In the silence, I can only imagine all the flutter around...

    But why it's not always like that, I don't know... The first funeral that I went to as a kid, was that of a child. A neighboring little girl had died: a freak accident around the house, when a heavy thing fell on her while adults were doing their ordinary business. I don't know why the creatures with wings did not do anything about it that time... I entered the room with the small coffin according to the custom, and was reluctant to look at her... quiet... there. What did I know about death...? I had just learned that it, too, was part of life... And I was only starting...

Comments

  1. DavidMay 3, 2024 at 10:09 PM

    Observ ca atunci când scri in engleza îmi pare un scris mai impersonal, descriptiv si rece. Sau poate limba asta nu rezonează in mine.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. cara forestieriMay 4, 2024 at 8:10 AM

      Nu as putea sa spun cu exactitate daca e sau nu asa. E adevarat ca engleza e o limba mai practica in comparatie cu romana, mai poetica. De obicei scriu in romana cand povestesc intamplari legate de Romania, ca vreau sa folosesc niste termeni specifici ce mi-ar fi greu sa- i traduc, si oricum nu ar fi acelasi efect. Despre lucruri mai curente, in engleza. Sunt nivele de cat las trairile sa transpara in scris, depinde. In tumultul unui eveniment sunt ocupata cu traitul, scrisul vine mai tarziu, mai detasat. Dar acum sunt si intr-un mare calm al vietii; nu-l numesc raceala.

      Delete
    2. DavidMay 4, 2024 at 11:59 AM

      Da. Așa e. Engleza e o limba mai exactă, poate exprima sentimente mature. Dar am observat asta la prietenii mei vorbitori de engleza, când vor sa spună ceva mai delicat, intim, o schimba pe engleZa. Haha suna mai altfel :))

      Delete
    3. cara forestieriMay 4, 2024 at 7:38 PM

      E o observatie buna! Si eu am observat asta, cred ca intai la mine:)) Cu vorbitorii de romana suna mai impersonal cand o dai pe engleza, sau alta limba. In functie de dispozitia pentru discutii intime, poti sa jonglezi. Dar mai e si ca iti trebuie cateodata mai multe cuvinte sa spui ceva in romaneste: uite cuvintele "weekend" si "sfarsit de saptamana." Mai greoi in romaneste, si vine engleza cu practicul ei. In fine, pana la urma, fiecare limba cu melodia ei... Eu fiind aici, am invatat engleza bine zic, dar e un proces perpetuu sa o si patrund.

      Delete
  2. cara forestieriMay 4, 2024 at 8:22 AM

    M-ai provocat cu trairile si uite niste ganduri... Trairile mele sunt ca niste izvoare la suprafata, si de acolo se ramifica precum apele freatice in interior prin toti rarunchii. Trairile tale sunt ca bujorii (ca tot iti plac tie :)) ), infoiati si spumosi, ce vad eu, nu stiu mai adanc.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. DavidMay 4, 2024 at 12:00 PM

      Daa. Îmi convine. Eu cu bujorii tu cu izvoarele. :))

      Delete

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