Things of Life

                                                      Fire                                                       Floating                                                       On wheels...

     Summer nights are special. If you would just pay attention enough, you would see they are portals towards future and eternity and-- as you enter-- answers to life's big questions may be graffitied on certain walls. If you would just see...       Young Forest did not see. She felt, though... sometimes... It was a summer night that she was totally excited about. A big camp fire a few houses down her street, and some of her favorite people were there, including Sycamore, her childhood friend. Games, jokes, laughter, and music till 3AM. Yeah...music... it was that age when everything was around the music of the time... Her beaten-up cassette player was by their side as they were, at times, dreaming or brooding about something when fixing dancing flames...      At a random moment, Sycamore told Little Forest he had something to talk with her, and they agreed upon doing it later, since they would be the only ones walking home in a particu...

I can give love, And place it on a doily even... It gathered like water in a well From the years of rain, With piled up dainties That fed the soul Through the seasons... It grew in a vine, A canopy it made, And grapes are hanging  Like jewels to take At the hour of dusk; Purple juice bursts in a splash All over me...

     Mă bucur enorm de timpul asta! Timp când am timp, sa îl simt cum apasă, sa-i ascult tăcerea, sa fiu atenta la nimic , sa incerc sa vad ce nu vad.  Să-mi permit sa aberez si sa o iau pe arături...      Sa cred ca ceea ce vad nu îmi oferă o imagine completa a ceea ce este, si atunci sa caut ceea ce nu vad pentru ca simt ca striga (de vina e poate muzica). Probabil ca as putea sa confund ceea ce nu vad cu ceea ce e in suflet, într-o încercare de a înțelege cele nevăzute. Mă uit la lumea asta și-mi vine sa trag o perdea-- de-aș putea doar... Rămân cu impresii, dorințe, si probabil credințe ca dincolo de perdea e o rețea de legături, de puncte luminoase, de forme, vibratii, nevăzute in lumea celor văzute... 

Ballade pour nous Ailleurs, dans le temps, Pour un instant, Nous nous sommes vus, En souriant, Et nous avons pleuré Pour avoir rêvé. La rêvé d'aujourd'hui Il sera demain, Lorsqu'en nuit, Toujours en pleurant, On va s'embrasser. Moi, si j'ai rêvé, Mon Dieu, j'ai oublié, La souffrance m'a liée. La nuit s'en va doucement Nous passons pleinement... La fenêtre est ouverte Dehors il a neigé Le fleurs de pommier Volent par-dessus ma tête. Tu est là-haut, Dans mon regard, Je t'attends venir Ne me torture pas. Puis je m'en irai, En murmurant, Et je t'aimerai Tant ca je vivrai.           * Mon printemps va venir, Mais la vie C'est une saison Qui passe toujours... Et toi, ma saison Tu ne cesse jamais D'être toujours.

     Every time I open the back door and go around the house, he is somewhere close and runs away like a stalker caught in his ilicit act. I am startled at first and get defensive, as I know myself alone and pretty much naked in the summers's heat. In a glimpse, I only see his huge ears. Quite something, these ears...Then a huge body for a rabbit, like a dog almost. I did not even know there are such big rabbits, but... I see one. He stops after a few jumps, stands on his rear feet, and fixates me from a distance. I thought that Bugs Bunny was a funny cartoon figure, but now the resemblance is clear... the naughty desert rabbit.       Maybe he likes the green bush near the bedroom window, or the shade in that part of the house-- I looked to see if there is a nest of some sort, or a hole, but did not spot any. Let him stay-- I like creatures around-- and I will probably become less and less scared when he's out all of a sudden. No tricks, please...

Când se lăsa seara, fetele își trăgeau niște egari, tricou peste fund, luciu pe buze, coada la ochi, o zghirdea la gât, parul in vânt, si sub clar de luna la dans plecau... Câteodată si ochelari de soare... noaptea :)) Societatea lor rămânea una ermetică, cu excepția unor portițe ce se mai deschideau din când in când unor preferați din rândul sexului opus cărora li permitea sa mai tragă cu ochiul or urechea...

     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...

Când scăpam-- ca vițica din pripon, zicea mama-- mai dansam cu țiganii pana după miezul nopții. Spiritul lor înțepat si înflăcărat se împletea cu spiritul nopților de vara (același, oriunde, oricând)... Je l'aime, je l'aime Je ne sais pas pourquoi...

     Through some game of fate, they were given one more day of togetherness before indefinite time apart. In a big park in a big city, they went for a walk and it started to snow. The curtain of snow, though, was no impediment. They passed by a small enclosure of iron fence like a graveyard--an oddity in the general garden design. Nothing particular inside... What was that...? The wrought iron was swirly like a multitude of tongues that twist and touch to produce shrills, words, and foreplay kisses. She wanted to enter there and the little iron gate enclosed them with a snap. She wanted to be kissed even with the snow that was melting in their mouths. Sealed.

The sea in me takes me to the deep-- To feel vibrating creatures around, Or remember trenches and mountains That I've touched during big dives, To understand the elusiveness Of what is seen from a distance, Or simply get wet in the waves When outside it's burning... But how deep can I go To find the substance of all things...?

Timpul... încolăcit in jurul meu Ca acel șarpe boa, colorat,  Care-- mi se spunea--  Incepe sa se stranga din reflex In jurul gâtului meu cald, Sa nu ma sperii! Ok, l-am lăsat un timp Să-și facă menirea, Totuși nu puteam să-l uit așa,  Si l-am desfăcut nerăbdătoare-- Sa stea mai bine pe canapea, (Dădeau bine culorile). Dar daca descolăcesc timpul Il voi da inapoi Si voi scoate la iveala amintiri Cu trăiri încă nedigerate prin ele,  Si forme intacte, Le voi retrai de vreau,  Si poate, printr-o minune, Vor prinde din nou viata Si vor misuna in iarba Ca acei copii ce urmau sa se nasca Femeilor vânjoase, nascatoare solitare In pășunile verzi din tărâmuri de vis...

     Revin la placa de ciment incinsa a verandei fiindcă îmi place și mă inspira. Nu pot sa nu o alătur plăcii de ciment umezi a piscinei private unde doi se îmbăiază goi si pot sa facă dragoste nestingheriți. Pe tare. E ceva in tăria asta oricât de neconfortabil ar fi. E ceva in esența pietrei, nu in ceea ce se simte la început. Sentimentul de neclintire, nealterare, de nesfârșit, de nemurire. Ideea ca piatra rămâne o piatra si prin arșiță, si prin ploi. Senzația ca lipindu-te de ea poate te umpli de aceleași caracteristici. Căci omul se umple nu doar de lucrurile in sine ci si de semnificațiile lor...

I won't settle for less. There is a tune in me That tells me where to go And how much to take; I learned in time  To distinguish the song From background music; Ignoring it would be Self-inflicted damage. So, listening to it I know I won't settle for less. I do not want moments or glimpses In a field that's unattained, I want a larger piece To call it my life's island;  I do not want a sparkly thing That slips through my fingers, I want my bouquet To hold near heart With both arms; I do not feed on crumbles either I want entire chunks That fill me up Till I reach satisfaction. So, as I go, I won't settle for less-- Just for you to know...