Things of Life

     Am plecat in papuci pe drumul cu pietriș ce șerpuiește de-a lungul râului. Sălcii si răchită au năpădit marginile cărării încât ar părea un loc necunoscut. Dar o credință ca eram pe calea știută m-a făcut sa continui mersul. Si atunci amintirile s-au ridicat ca mirosul de praf ud când da ploaia...      Am auzit niște fete tinere chicotind când se dezbrăcau la costumul de baie. Ce atâta râs când se uitau una la sânii alteia? Chiar daca erau cam de aceeași vârstă, acele forme in crestere arătau cât se poate de diferit: mai mari sau mai mici, mai sus sau mai jos, mai țuguiate sau mai rotunde. Ca fructele de dat in pârga in copacii verzi. Si apoi o hârjoneala ca in Dansul lui Matisse pe malul răului si peste apa mica.      Nu se putea la râu fără mers la birice. In capul dealului de peste apa cineva construise o structura ca o troiță deasupra unui izvor. O țeavă de fier perforata ieșea din zid. Apa curgea pe țeavă si copiii astupau gura țev...

     Viața e legată mai tot timpul de o apa. Ca e un râu, un lac, un țărm, o balta, un izvor, pentru cei mai mulți viața e pe lângă ape. Pe nesimțite, ca si apa, viața își urmează cursul ei...      Râul de langa casa ne atragea pe toți. Mai ales vara. Creșteam pe lângă albia lui ce părea sa se schimbe de la an la an. O apa gri cu miros de pește si frunze dulci. Nu vroiam sa ratez nicio ocazie de a merge acolo. Mă țineam de băieții de pe strada ca mi se părea ca ei au cumva acces la distracții de zile mai mari. Sa nu cumva sa pierd ceva...      Si așa am ajuns la râu într-un grup de băieți mai mari. Cum eram într-o zona cu ceva industrie, excavatoarele erau tot timpul la râu sa scoată pietriș si nisip. Intervențiile astea lăsau niște gropi in apa râului de nu le atingeai fundul, si băieții mei tocmai după astea se uitau, ca ce sa facă ei la apa mica... Pericolul era mare si eram atenționați, dar magia apei ce licărea in rotocoale era si ea mar...

What has man to do with a dwelling-like structure?  To meander for a while outside of it and then enter there... To take small steps in a space with well defined boundaries... To touch things, eat, lie down...  To succumb into subconscious realm...  Dwelling has objects scattered around-- Constantly washed, polished, scrubbed, folded, looked at, and after all cherished;   Somehow man finds comfort in doing so.  Materiality is enjoyed, but then man attributes meanings to almost each object; So they become charged with certain energy. Dwelling is surrender-- man throws away skin, clothes, masks, fears, tensions...

I came to believe that life has no meaning without the act of creation.  The fact that us, these beings that trek this planet are created by an inteligent Being. It is rather depressing to see ourselves the product of a successful alignment of cosmic events; the "succes" of becoming, after all, recyclable matter. To be content with such reality is beyond reason.  The idea of creation is too complex to be an invention to fight existential depression.  There is a new dimension of meaning added when the inteligent Being commits an act of sacrificial love for the created beings. This love seems illogical and strange in its nature, but it's probably what makes it stand out. It transcends what we call religion.  And so, when our short time here is imbued with acts of creation and sacrificial love, whatever small they may be, life becomes utterly meaningful and full of purpose.

40s By now I should know everything about love. Pretty much. I think I do, although I reserve a small area to be surprised still... By now I am aware of the channels, different from person to person, through which love springs forth or/and comes in. You don't love anybody until you decide to do so. 30s Things are becoming more clear now. 20s When you actually want to answer the question "what is love...?" And things are rather chaotic... Adolescent.  You need about 2 or 3 things to like at a person in order to fall in love. Besides these, it's a matter of projections-- you attribute the things you want or dream about to that person. He/she may have them or not. The question remains: whom do you love? That person, or an image wrapped in your own dreams and desires...? Child.  You jubilate around a person that you feel attracted to, and think it must be love.You heard about love, you are not sure how to define it, but somehow you feel that it's something big and ge...

     The baby was sleeping on his shoulder as if the little creature was part of it. Somehow, I first had the impression the man was wearing a fur because the baby curled on a half of his chest with the head close to his neck, and it felt soft and natural. I know... a fur is not exactly the most proper, nor beautiful comparison with a baby, but-- like most times-- I got into a state of mixed feelings upon entering a shop with vintage items, and also I may have had a recollection of those cats...      Those cats made of natural fur and meant to decorate a sofa, a coffee table, or a mantel... I mean... who would want a cat-like figurine that looks like a real one, and realizes it's not a live animal only when  getting closer and attempting to pet it, just to discover then it's hard and hallow...? The whole thing feels  creepy--I would jump back like burned... But the old ladies, the owners of a vintage shop that happened I had stepped in a while ago...

I am matter and spirit, All in one-- Something fixed as rock, No way to separate. I feel me in each, So clearly distinct... Although, somewhere, The invisible link Keeps me  going. If I would be just matter, I'll fall like sand At ocean's bottom; If just spirit, I would get lost above... But being both, I keep my buoyancy in the middle...