Things of Life

     Ma trezesc cu copilăria in nări, in urechi, in priviri oarbe. Intra pe geam nevazuta... Ii vad pe toți ai ei ca niște stâlpi mișcători ce muta lucrurile de colo colo, in jurul meu. Copil fiind si fără nicio grija, mă trezeam in forfota grădinii, in chiotul curții, când treburile erau in toi sau deja facute. Le-au făcut si au plecat... Mă trezesc dimineața ca un om responsabil ce știe ce are de făcut si nu mai poate cloci in pat cu vise. Continui treburile într-o liniște totală, resemnata...

     Se spune ca nu te mai poți întoarce la copilărie. Dar eu m-am întors! Sunt din nou copil in casa copilăriei mele. Cumva viața îmi permite. Mi-am lăsat proprii copii in grija altora, ca eu sa devin copil (suna ca un prilej bun de judecata din partea unora, da, cunosc-- ca nu sunt o mama buna, ca nu-mi iubesc copiii...). Dar cu ce energie o sa mă mai întorc eu la ei, de o sa stau si-n cap cu una sau cu alta de dragul lor...! La urma urmei copiii au nevoie de copii.      Sa fiu copil măcar pentru câteva saptamani. Sa mă plimb, sa mă întâlnesc cu prieteni, sa mă lungesc la terase, sa fac noaptea alba dac-as vrea, si pentru un timp sa nu mai fie timp... Apoi, când m-am încărcat cu energia copilăriei sa mă întorc la cei ce ma așteaptă cu neclintire si crescanda nerăbdare, incat sa-mi regăsesc pe perna firul de par căzut, si mirosul, nemișcate...       Când s-a mutat la tara, mama mi-a dat o notiță cu mersul autobuzelor, sa mă descurc. De ...

     An older woman who was missing an eye approached me one day and asked if I want to go across the ocean and marry her grandson because she had watched me for over a year or so, and she thought I was the perfect match...      "What...? Me...? Why...?" (Scary...)      Matchmaking...? Not in my dreams... And the whole scenario seemed creepy... I was seeing myself quite differently, meeting my guy while sailing on the Aegean sea, me in my long, white diaphanous dress that fluttered in the winds...      But the woman was kind, and I accepted eventually to get acquainted with her grandson.      On the other side of the planet, the grandson came one day at his parents' home and saw on the piano a picture with a girl on a balcony, and in that light her hair appeared fairer than usual, and her eyes greener than they were.      "Who is this girl...?"      He was explained shortly that his ...

.crack of dawn. tooth paste. cereal and milk. get in the car! it's so cold... Vivaldi... .browsing. errands. bread. red beets and parsley. do you still have cucumbers...? .what's the meaning of Life...? mystery... paints on a surface. more Vivaldi... .mail came. some packages, bills... take a walk... dinner! .Moon and stars... two red pillows, hand cream... sleeping on a tree...

In English, it sounds like an accident. You stumble and fall into something.  It suggests a certain impermanence and drama.  If the thing in which you are falling is love, there is a host of occurrences around the person you stumble upon: butterflies in your stomach, persistent thinking, dreams and desires, silly behavior, you name it...  I find that one element that maintains it all for a while is a form of mystery.  You don't entirely know the person, but he/she inspires you to see another world, a diffused and enticing space where--it seems-- your dreams are coming in like cute little bugs in the spring, to take form, live, and thrive.  You naturally want to be with that person as much as you can.  Things may work out and you may end up with that person for a longer time.  However, as you start being more and more with that person, you start (unavoidably) knowing him/her better and better. Mystery dissipates slowly like a fog. You'll wake up on...

Why do I believe in God? Because the life I know seems meaningless without it. My choice, in a way... I am not satisfied with the way this life goes. I want to reach beyond it, and God is the only way through which I see myself going farther. I do not want, neither need, exhaustive evidence about God's existence. That would no longer be faith . Even the Bible defines faith as a belief in things unseen, --or to extrapolate-- understood. There you go then... belief in unbelievable. I got used with a form of mystery to the point of liking it. To the point of becoming a state of being. Living on a glimpse... To swing on some airy spider lines. Elusive, they are actually tremendously resilient.

Life has a sort of magic that I feel and see. I cling to it as I move along...  I see dark as well. But the tiny speck of magic-- I don't let go of it as long as I can...