Surprise

They say that one should look out of the window when one has sore eyes.

I say that one should practice this as a means of relaxation. I was doing that today and if it hadn't been for the frost, I would have thought that people already got ready for Easter.

Zooming in, I could see that there were no Easter Bunny and Easter Egg, joyfully waiting for the Easter, but some plants were courageously facing the weather. 

And when is it our turn to listen?!

I don't know if you have noticed but we are in full epidemic. And not the flue one. Besides the fact that we are in a hurry... Oh, we truly are in a hurry! We do not seem to listen. Or we no longer seem to listen. We focus so much on the answer we want to give or how to turn the discussion around to a subject we consider interesting, that the meaning of the interlocutor's words fly above us without even gently touching our eardrum.

It is alarming. And also because I caught myself turning a deaf ear, while my mind was agitated, waiting for the moment when I could speak. And I was so proud about my unabated attention!

I will not put the blame on the modern era, with all its smartphones and tablets, and neither on the youth's unsteadiness. I am thinking of a new strategy - to carefully listen. And I dare you to it, also. Start from taking a step back from yourself and take one step forward, towards the speaker. Maybe I should warn you about something. The risk of discovering other opinions than yours is high. Have no fear! 

Ana Blandiana - Variations on a given topic

It's impossible not to fall under Ana Blandiana's spell. There is something in the way she gazes and utters the words that lets one know that one is in the presence of someone with extraordinary powers. The spell is cast and one's only wish is for it not to end soon.

When I was 13 years old, my father asked me about Arpagic. I stared at him for a while and then I shrugged my shoulders while letting him know that I had no idea about it. 'But what do they teach you in school?!', he asked concerned. It was then that I had heard for the first time the name of Ana Blandiana. The delight in my father's voice while talking about her stayed with me for a long time. When I first heard about the Memorial to the Victims of Communism and Resistance, I was truly moved by the initiative but did not remember the name of the founders. Years after that, when I went to visit the former political prison in Sighetul Marmației, Ana Blandiana's soft voice greeted me at the entrance and I remembered my fathers sayings.

Today, I did something nice. I read poetry. The volume 'Variations on a given topic' contains poems of rare sensitivity. The secondary subject in all the poems is death, represented as physical absence and not disappearance. The main subjects vary, though. From time to memories, promises and questions about the significance of life.

There is a border between life and death, and no communication channel. But still, some spirits are connected and remain together contrary to the seeming impossibility. We remain united only if we wish to do so. And this union must not be validated by a physical presence.

I truly recommend you to read this collection of poems because you will rediscover how it feels to get goose bumps. You will vibrate, you will smile, you will get sad and you will realize the beauty of the Romanian poetry, but mostly, the beauty of Ana Blandiana's poetry.

Be the person your dog thinks you are!

I am one of those people who believe that wandering (whether the world or just a new station than the one where one usually gets off) does wonders for one's mental sanity. It cleanses off the residues and, moreover, may be inspiring. Because one never knows what one might find on one's way.

The title of this post came from this, from the wandering. It struck me while I was gawking around, one step after the other. 

Being a dog lover, I fancied the quote. Then, I pondered on it, amused. And I discovered that it is by far more profound than I had first considered, for in its folds a couple of meanings hide, such as 'Do no harm!' and 'Be strong!' and 'Be playful!' and 'Cherish the day!'. 

About 2018

If I should consider what people say around me, the truth would be that once you get older time seems to become slippery. In the sense that it goes so fast that one cannot realize it.
I am not ready yet to make resolutions for 2019, but I know one thing - I have what to thank 2018 for. And not only regarding my writing achievements. 
And since a promise is a promise, I could not end this year without my dear Vlad. A kind of spur to action is what I feel while reading the following fragment from Vlad Musatescu's 'Approximate adventures':

" 'I will miss you! You can be sure of that... So there's no point in letting our goodbye making you sad... It's only temporally; listen to me for I know what I'm saying! We will never die. You, because you will become a writer, just like my brother, and I, because my surname is Vlahuta... And I have lived my life like a Vlahuta. To the fullest! By singing, loving, drinking a glass, like people should! To put it bluntly, to hell with life because that's what it was made for... Live it to the fullest, just like I have, and you will never forget me!”

I never got the chance to see uncle Vlahuta once more. But I have never forgotten him. Never, just like he had asked me. And still, there are some things I learned from him. For he had stressed upon the fact that we would see each other again, sometime. Where? Because on earth we weren't given another chance. Still, we will see! Just like the saying of Stephane Roll (alias), also-known under the name of Gheorghe Dinu: ‘We will die and we will see!’"

Happy new year, good people! May you rejoice!

Family traditions

One truly understands the meaning of family connection only then when one sees their nephew applying the same tactics that one uses for so many years. Namely, to ask one's mother (in this case, Bui a.k.a. grandma) to tell you a story about an event that one had heard so many times before, but one likes it so much that wants to hear it once more. One knits one's eyebrows and gives slightly false details about the event so that the need of clarification appears within Bui. One tilts one's head back. Easily, so that Bui cannot see one's victorious smirk, even though Bui is more than glad to tell that story. One listens, and on one's face tension can be seen albeit Bui hasn't reached the climax of the story. One laughs. And laughs hard and loud because Bui has come to the part that one so much loves.
There are stories that don't become boring over the years, and this is because of their narrators. And there are family traditions that seem to go on regardless of our merit. And for me, these are the most important and more blood-related ones.

When it's cold...

When it's cold outisde, I am smothered by longings of reading books. I feather my nest into the couch, bring on a cup of tea and plummet into reading. But not totally. I remain in a somewhat state of alert. And that is because I always sit facing the window. It is it that I glance through when lines from a book make me wonder. Glacing through the window, my racing feelings smooth over and settle down like woven on an embroidery frame. And this is how I am not totally loose from the world and I can find the strength to let go of the book.