joi, 20 februarie 2014
Una dintre serile in care vulnerabilitatea e la cel mai intalt nivel. E o vulnerabilitate placuta. E ca atunci cand ma ghemuiam langa tine imbracata in pat spunand ca nu adorm inca, dar vreau doar sa stau asa, langa tine cateva minute. Din momentul in care inchideam ochii si iti simteam prezenta, nimic din ce se intampla injur nu mai putea conta. Era atat de multa liniste interioara, incat putea lovi luna pamantul si as fi stiut ca tinandu-te de mana, as fi putut sa mor atunci pe loc.
Da, e o vulnerabilitate placuta, o eliberare, o garda ce a fost tinuta sus intreaga zi, acum cade linistita.
Nu pot realiza de ce ma simt asa azi. Nu stiu daca a fost vantul, sau sporadicul soare de pe cer, sau prea multa cafea, sau prea multe jeluri. Nu stiu cum apar momentele astea in care, chiar si-n lipsa ta absoluta, ma simt in siguranta, ma simt multumita cu putinul pe care-l simte sufletul meu.
Incercam sa-mi dau seama de ce primavara asta care vine acum pe drum, fata de ultimele doua sau trei, e atat de intens absorbita. Aum cred ca e pentru ca, anul trecut eram in plina dubla sesiune de diploma (licenta si disertatie), iar cea de dinainte a fost plina de esecuri, greseli si probleme.
E prima primavara in ultimii trei ani cand am timp pentru mine, pentru arta mea, si am pe deplin mai multa dispozitie mentala si spirituala sa o primesc, sa o savurez.
E o seara stranie, dar calma. O seara care m-a indemnat sa-i scriu... O noapte pe care o voi imbratisa cu drag si sper, cu venirea diminetii, senzatia sa nu plece, ba din contra: sa ramana! Sa ramana!
Publicat de Mirona la 22:17
marți, 18 februarie 2014
sâmbătă, 8 februarie 2014
"The only sadness-es that are dangerous and unhealthy are the ones that we carry around in public in order to drown them out with the noise; like diseases that are treated superficially and foolishly, they just withdraw and after a short interval break out again all the more terribly; and gather inside us and are life, are life that is un-lived, rejected, lost, life that we can die of. If only it were possible for us to see farther than our knowledge reaches, and even a little beyond the outworks of our presentiment, perhaps we would bear our sadness-es with greater trust than we have in our joys. For they are the moments when something new has entered us, something unknown; our feelings grow mute in shy embarrassment, everything in us withdraws, a silence arises, and the new experience, which no one knows, stands in the midst of it all and says nothing.
It seems to me that almost all our sadness-es are moments of tension, which we feel as paralysis because we no longer hear our astonished emotions living. Because we are alone with the unfamiliar presence that has entered us; because everything we trust and are used to is for a moment taken away from us; because we stand in the midst of a transition where we cannot remain standing. That is why the sadness passes: the new presence inside us, the presence that has been added, has entered our heart, has gone into its innermost chamber and is no longer even there, is already in our bloodstream. And we don't know what it was. We could easily be made to believe that nothing happened, and yet we have changed, as a house that a guest has entered changes. We can't say who has come, perhaps we will never know, but many signs indicate that the future enters us in this way in order to be transformed in us, long before it happens. And that is why it is so important to be solitary and attentive when one is sad: because the seemingly uneventful and motionless moment when our future steps into us is so much closer to life than that other loud and accidental point of time when it happens to us as if from outside. The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadness-es, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes our fate; and later on, when it "happens" (that is, steps forth out of us to other people), we will feel related and close to it in our innermost being. And that is necessary. It is necessary - and toward this point our development will move, little by little - that nothing alien happen to us, but only what has long been our own.(...)
And to speak of solitude again, it becomes clearer and clearer that fundamentally this is nothing that one can choose or refrain from. We are solitary. We can delude ourselves about this and act as if it were not true. That is all. But how much better it is to recognize that we are alone; yes, even to begin from this realization. It will, of course, make us dizzy; for all points that our eyes used to rest on are taken away from us, there is no longer anything near us, and everything far away is infinitely far."
[Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a young poet, # 8]
Publicat de Mirona la 01:32