THANK YOU!

Tonight while I was decorating the house for Christmas, my thoughts have gone to everything I have to be thankful about.

My life is a miracle, because all life is miraculous, and because I not only live it first hand, but also through my two amazing children. And giving them the habit of realizing life is one great gift is one of my goals.

So, there is a long list of people I need to be thankful about, and for.

Thank you mum and dad, thank you for giving me the courage to always be who I need to be, for loving myself, for being opened, direct, sometimes rough, thank you for being a constant presence in my life, even from thousands of miles away, thank you for keeping me onest with myself and down to earth.

Thank you Ira, my greatest friend, my truest friend, the godmother of my children. I don’t get emotional often, and I never tell you what you mean to me. I know you know, because ours is the kind of relationship that stands the test of everything, not only time. I miss you. It’s painful sometimes. But it’s one of those raw emotions that make us appreciate what we have even more.

Thank you Diana, my oldest friend, for being in my life even from oceans away, and for choosing to live your life the only way it is supposed to be lived. The way you want it. You have an amazing family, and the thought of someday meeting that amazing son of yours warms my heart. I wish for at least one more of those nights without end, of talking, and talking like it’s the end of the world with you.

Thank you Tony, my rock, for never questioning my choices, for loving me unconditionally, as I love you too, for being my family even when you knew I was wrong, and for supporting any and every decision in my life. I love you the way dad loves us.

Thank you Bogdan and Ralu, for being an example to me. You don’t probably know it, but you are my example of success when it comes to marriages. You, and that little monkey mean the world to me.

Thank you Amalia and Andrei, for everything that you are. I do believe we will celebrate Christmas together 20 years from now as we have been doing for the last few. You are the best example of people I choose over and over again, and choose me back with a  stubbornness that is not comprehensible to the outside world. You have been there in one of the darkest times of my life, and I need to thank you for that. It was an anchor, even if it didn’t seem like it at the time. See you in two weeks.

Thank you Alex for coming back to me. Ours has not been an easy journey, and the mountains we have climbed are steep and dangerous. We have found a way though, and I am confident we will always find one.

Thank you Corina for not ever judging. I believe you are the only one. And I love you for it. Well, not only for it, but mostly J)))))))))

Thank you departed ones, Traian, Ana, Daniel, you are all in my mind and my soul. And it is said that the only way you can keep on living is through the other’s memories of you. I love you all. My life was touched by all of you, and I am grateful to have known you and to have been part of your life.

But most of all, and more than anything THANK YOU Saşa and Karina, for existing, for teaching me love, care, fear, humility, joy happiness with every breath that you take. It’s a cliché, but you are my whole world. I love you as I have never loved before, and will probably never love again. Fiercely, wildly and never-ending. You are my first and foremost reason for living.

All of you, are the universe that makes my life special, that makes me whole, and that makes this puzzle the greatest puzzle in the world.

With gratitude,

A.

Missing you!

Every 10th of October, I get up in the morning thinking of you. You are most definitely not the only one that has dissapeared from life, mine and the other's, leaving a huge void. You are, for me, not even as  close as others that have dissapeared. But I can't stop thinking about the first time I saw you, when you were just a bundle in that little cot in your mother's house. You were, the first baby I ever saw, that I can remember even now. You grew up, near me, like my little sister, our mothers helping each other, and loving each other, and teaching us the value of the family you choose, more than the family you are given. You left, and years passed, without us seeing each other, but having that special place in each other's hearts. And then, you had that amazing baby, that looks so much like you, that is unerving to look at. And I was happy for you. I was happy life gave you a reason to love even more. And hope even more. Five years ago, my mum came to me saying she needs to talk to me, but being heavily pregnant, she wasn't sure how to tell me what she needed. And I learned that you were, for ever gone. That life happened yet again, and took you from them, from us, from the world. My darling little sister, you had such a short time to make your mark, and you did it so beautifully, and so definitelly, that I can't stop thinking that you still live among us. I wish I could tell your son of all the great moments I saw you growing up. I wish I could tell your real sister of all the crazy childhood happenings I witnessed. I wish I could take back time and hold you even one more time. I did, do, and will love you for ever. Hope you see him, them, us, from up among the stars.
Missing you,
A.

I would rather!

I would rather be happy, than be sad. And, as life shows you, there are so many reasons to be sad, that you could spend it all, wollowing in a pool of your own misery. Happiness doesn't come for free, as it does not, nor will it ever, come for money. But it costs you. It costs you the will to learn not to expect, it costs you the feelings you invest in your loved ones, the ones that you have no choice but to love. It costs you the days and nights spent in conscious struggle with yourself, when you try to learn that not all things happen TO YOU. Some things just happen. And you are in the way.
I would rather do the things that I love, and that make me happy. But not all of them are possible. So, instead, I learn to be happy with the things I do, because they don't define me. They just complete the picture of my life.
I would rather people liked me, but I am not about to change the way I think and the things I believe in, for someone's comfort. So, instead, I learn to like the ones I meet, see the bright human design in every one, and get on with my life, with lessons learned from every one of them.
I would rather be somewhere else. In a distant land, full of towering mountain shadows, deep dark forests with smell of millenial pines, rivers running mad in deep valleys. But I am not. And I smell the strange plants of this new  land of mine, and watch the strange sun coming from a  wrong direction, and think to myself "this is my new world, and I will learn to see it with new eyes, and love it the way I love the old one.
I would rather years didn't go by so fast, and the feeling that old age is just around the corner would not be so implicit. But they are. And it is. And every time I look into my children's eyes it's becoming more obvious. It doesn't feel like it though. If I didn't have them, to compare me against, I would never realize the amount of days, hours and minutes that is now forming memories behind me. The only thing that makes me happy, is the amount of days, hours, and minutes, that their presence promises to turn into memories from now on!

With hope,
A

LOOSING MY RELIGION

Am inchis. Si am stat inchisa, ca un butic falimentat si parasit, cu geamuri sparte si panze de paianjen, atat de mult, ca mi-am pierdut obisnuinta insiruirii vorbelor. M-am pierdut in copilul meu, in rutina mea, in incercarea de a fi in viata asa de tare, ca nu mi-au mai trecut prin minte nici un fel de cuvinte... A fost gol, si spatiu ca intr-un cap de blonda dintr-un banc misogin... Si din gol am inceput sa gandesc iar si iar si iar si iar....... nesfarsit... Dar nu-mi place sa gandesc. Nu mai vreau profunzimi si adancimi metaforice caci nu duc la nimic bun. Mi-e simplu sa raman pierduta in copilul meu, in rutina mea, in incercarea de a fi in viata. Poate mai deschid mai tarziu... muuuuult mai tarziu (sa treaca criza :)))))
A.

ALTCINEVA

Cateodata ma cuprinde salbaticia, simt ca am gheare in varful degetelor, si par a avea puterea sa rup cu dintii din toti si toate. Ca o stare de betie crunta, in care nu te mai recunosti, dar din care iti vei aduce aminte tot... tot... tot. Gust de sange intre buze. Asa ma simt. In starea asta imi pun la indoiala cele mai elementare norme de bun simt, cei sapte ani de acasa, bunatatea... Mai ales bunatatea. Ma simt ca si cum tot ceea ce traiesc se transforma intr-un suvoi de ganduri intunecate, si nu-mi doresc decat sa scrijelesc cu gheare de animal in carne vie... Sa rup. Sa musc... Nu stiu daca e de inteles. Strig dinauntrul meu... as vrea sa nu mai fiu asa... as vrea sa nu mai am sentimentele astea. Si pe urma, se iveste cate ceva, care declanseaza animalul din mine...

Cu teama,
A.

Pui de om...

Ce vei fi ingeras, cand vei fi mare? Ce-ti rezerva destinul? Ce de sperante si de dorinte sunt in mine cand te privesc... Si ce de intrebari iti licaresc in ochi atunci cand imi intorci privirea... Ingere mic, tot ceea ce stiu, tot ceea ce sunt, a fost o pregatire pentru a te avea pe tine. Nimic altceva. Sunt cuvinte mari, si ca orice cuvinte mari, pot parea false si lipsite de adevaratul lor sens... dar tot ce imi doresc e fericirea ta, e sa iubesti si sa fii iubit, sa nu te zbati in viata si sa stii sa treci cu tarie si mandrie, peste orice incercare iti va fi rezervata. Dormi, mami drag, dormi caci visele tale de acum, sunt pe cale sa se implineasca, sa creasca odata cu tine, si sa fie, tot atatea povesti despre un pui de om fericit...

Cu infinita dragoste,
A.

...

Ma doare tara mea, si faptul ca pustiul mic din patut, va trebui sa traiasca in ea. Mi-e scarba de ceea ce s-a inteles prin libertate, prin democratie, prin republica si stat de drept. Mi se par cuvinte mari... cu sens mic in romaneste. Nu mai am nici macar puterea sa ma revolt foarte tare. Pentru ca, uhhh pentru ca in principiu meritam sa fim condusi de cei care ne conduc. Pentru ca schimbam merele pe mere padurete, pentru ca suntem niste animalute tampe, conduse magistral de dresorul de la circ impreuna cu biciul lui stralucitor. Ca si cum, faptul ca straluceste l-ar face sa doara mai putin... Incerc sa-mi cer, in gand, scuze fata de copilul meu, pentru raul pe care i l-am facut noi ca popor, ca natie. Dar nu e de ajuns. Sacha, ca si sute de alti pusti de varsta lui, n-au de ce sa ne ierte. Nu meritam, si sincer, n-o sa-l invat sa fie tolerant. Pentru ca toleranta duce la autosuficienta, la liniste si la ascultarea dobitoceasca de biciul stralucitor.
Mi-e greu sa spun asta. Tare greu, si n-am crezut ca voi ajunge vreodata sa o spun... dar, daca se termina criza plec. Imi iau pustiul, imi iau barbatul... si ma duc sa-i dau o sansa sa fie ceva- canadian, neo-zeelandez, australian... orice numai dobitoc vrajit de bici nu...

Cu amaraciune si sila...
A.

Mi-ar fi placut sa fi scris eu poezia asta-dar... jos palaria domnule Kipling

If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

Cu admiratie,
A.

Intrebari...

Sacha: "E mare lumea mami?"
Mami: "Mare, mare bebe."
Sacha: "Cat de mare mami?"
Mami: "Mare mami, la fel de mare ca dragostea mea pentru tine"
Sacha: "Atunici inseamna ca nu incape in gandurile mele?"
Mami: "Incape bebe... in gandurile noastre incape universul intreg..."

Sacha: "Cat inseamna univers?"
Mami: " Cat toata apa pe care au plouat-o norii vreodata... cat toate bataile inimilor oamenilor... cat toata linistea din padure..."
Sacha: "Lumea face parte din univers?"
Mami: "Da."
Sacha: "Atunci inseamna ca lumea e un univers mai mic?"

Sacha: "De ce ploua mami?"
Mami: "Pentru ca ploaia hraneste toate fiintele vii..."
Sacha: "Adica pot sa deschid gura si sa ma hranesc cu ploaie?"
Mami: "Ai putea... doar ca ai ramane tot Sacha mititel..."

Amintiri

M-am trezit batatorind amintiri... ca pe niste drumuri, de mult uitate, care se redescopera in sufletul meu, si in mintea mea... cu fiecare pas pe care il fac catre ele. M-am trezit urcand poteci de ganduri, fara sa ma uit in jos, fara sa constientizez prapastia de langa ele. Oare unde duc? La pierderea linistii? La innegurarea limpezimii de acum? Sau doar la nevoia mea de baza de a fi acea persoana care sunt? La strigatul pe care il simt adormit in mine... Nu e bine ca traiesc amintirile ca pe niste drumetii. Nu e bine ca sufletul meu le percepe ca pe o parte din munti, din cer si din ploaie... Nu e bine ca s-a intors leit-motivul vietii mele, picaturile mici si netede care tind sa se prefaca in biciuiri de furtuna... Mi-am gasit drumul catre liniste, catre divinitate, catre absolut... si cu toate astea, ma intorc, ma uit in spate, ma astept la vreun bolovan trecut sa se apropie iar de poteca mea... Nu-mi parasesc drumul... dar nici nu am puterea sa nu ma mai uit la potecile paralele din cand in cand... nu am puterea sa nu ma inchipui acolo, mai degraba decat aici...
A.

Happy birthday to me...

Am 28 de ani si ma simt ca la 15... As juca fati-ascunselea prin parc, as chiuli de la scoala (de care mi-e un dor de-mi vine sa plang) ca sa ma duc cu gasca intr-un bar murdar, sa bem ceai si sa lesinam razand. Am 28 de ani si ma simt ca la 18... As pleca in tabara la mare, sa raman fara bani la mijlocul vacantei, sa adorm pe plaja si sa simt miros sarat de alge si scoici... Am 28 de ani si ma simt ca la 20... As privi in ochi albastri si as vedea dragoste, si foame in ei... Am 28 de ani si par a ma simti ca la toate varstele de adolescent, copil si om de pana acum, numai de 28 de ani nu ma prea simt... Nu sunt serioasa, nu sunt matura, nu sunt inteleapta... pai si atunci cand o sa cresc mare? Sincer? N-are nici o importanta. Nici nu vreau sa fiu mare. Imi place sa am 5, 15, 18 sau 20 de ani. Nu vreau sa am 28 de ani niciodata. Nici macar la 28 de ani...
A.

No name

Ma pierd in cuvinte, in imagini, in amitiri ale unor lururi care nu mi s-au intamplat niciodata... Nu reusesc sa-mi pastrez coerenta, sa ma detasez de mine, intr-atat incat sa vad unde sunt, cine sunt, cat mai am pana ajung undeva... Sunt doar rupta de toata realitatea vietii pe care imi inchipui ca o traiesc. Inertie... Cam asta e cuvantul care ma caracterizeaza, daca stau sa ma analizez. Imi alcatuiesc existenta din umbrele unor lucruri pe care le-am vrut odata, ma incordez sa nu-mi dau singura de stire ca nu sunt nici unde as fi vrut, si nici cine as fi vrut. Si atunci, inaintez din inertie, fara sa ma gandesc prea profund la nimic, de teama, ca voi cadea in realitate. Nu simt tristete. Nu simt fericire, ci doar o stare perpetua de inertie a sentimentelor, a gandurilor, care se incapataneaza sa continue sa vrea sa ajunga undeva, sa devina ceva... cat de bine ar fi daca as intelege si eu unde... si ce... Mai conteaza? Mai are vreo importanta? Oare cate suflete se chinuie in plasa asta de paianjen ca si mine? Oare cate alte fiinte se ghideaza numai dupa nevoia de a nu vedea mai departe de clipa urmatoare? Si asta numai pentru ca in spatele urmatoarei clipe e un hau infiorator...
A.

ALMOST...

I almost saw you... I felt you as I've been feeling you for the past year, surrounded by that inexplicable aura, that makes me shiver... I knew you where somewhere close to me... as I have known it the night you stopped in front of my house, as I have known it, the day I crossed the street in front of your car... I can feel you inside every dream of mine... inside every fantasy, inside every rain drop that falls over... That invisible wire that links us, indestructible, just like our own thoughts, makes me know how far far means to you, makes you know how beautiful beautiful is too me... How can two people that have never stood in the same place see things just the same? How can we feel things just as we where in the same spot at the same time? I keep thinking that ours is the story of Beauty and the Beast... Or the one of The Ghost at the Opera... just without the meeting... just without the actual breathtaking moment when you realise you breathe the same air... you look at the same light... you feel the same wind and raindrops... I almost see you... when as a matter of fact I have seen you face in the face of every man that has ever walked by me... I can almost hear your voice... when actually I have heard you whispering words in my ear in a thousand other whispers... I can almost feel the scent of smoke, of dust and of rain that has to be trapped in your hair... when in fact I have felt this traveler's perfume evereywhere we have ever been... both of us... or just one of us... But most of all, I can almost feel the touch of hands on my cold body... as if it had happened a thousand times before...
I know one day... I will almost say good-bye to you... just almost...
A.

Dark

Rugaciune muta, spre cerul din care picura venin... Soapte adanci, purtand cu ele si ultima raza de lumina, lasand in urma, doar alb de doliu si ninsoare profunda... Nu sunt voci care sa strige amarul, nu sunt priviri din care sa picure mania, nu sunt urechi care sa auda vaietul... Doar liniste mata, si fara noima, ridicata parca din adancimea apelor tulburi... Nu sunt culori, nu sunt zambete, nu sunt adieri de vant... nu e nimic. Gol... pustiu, umbre de sare... Toate se sfarsesc undeva. Doar ca nimeni nu-ti spune ca sfarsitul s-ar putea sa fie etern. Sa nu se mai termine. Sa n-aiba inceput si nici final. Si atunci cand te trezesti traind un sfarsit fara sfarsit, te intrebi la ce bun... Nimic din ceea ce ai sperat si ti-ai dorit n-a prins forma, nimeni nu e in spatele tau sa te legene atunci cand vrei sa fii copil, sa te mangaie atunci cand vrei sa dormi imbratisata, sa te sarute atunci cand iti doresti pasiune nestavilita... Numai liniste, liniste ca intr-o padure inaintea furtunii... doar ca furtuna nu mai prinde contur, nu se mai naste, si ramai asteptand cu disperare un sunet, un fosnet, o umbra... Urme de unghii inclestate in palme, urlet mut si surd, fara noima, durere brusca si terifianta... NIMIC... gol, spatiu, si prea multa liniste... mult prea multa...
Doare...
A.

Instinct primar

E intuneric si vant si zgomot ca de cascade in sufletul meu... Ma misc incet, parca filmata in reluare, prin lumea asta ciudata, fara sa gasesc un scop, un raspuns... Imi place ploaia. Neagra, repede, salbatica, plina de fulgere... Strang in mine furie, si cand ploua, parca toata se sterge. Ma intreb cateodata, de unde capacitatea asta ciudata de a uri cu aceeasi forta cu care iubesc... De unde puterea de a deveni animal de prada atunci cand ma simt incoltita, chiar si in fata oamenilor pe care ii respect cel mai tare, ii iubesc cel mai mult... Dar de cele mai multe ori nu ma intreb. Doar o traiesc. Ura. Frustrarea, ca nu reusesc sa-i fac pe cei spre care mi se indreapta sentimentele astea, sa se topeasca dintr-o privire. Sa dispara pe vesnicie. Si pe urma, imi aduc aminte ca nici n-as vrea. Pentru ca deliciul suprem, momentul de fericire pura, e atunci cand ii vad stand intinsi, invinsi, mutilati in timp ce eu ma ridic si merg mai departe. Aveam senzatia intr-o vreme, ca depind de cineva. Ca viata mea, e legata iremediabil de o persoana, de un concept, de o idee... Nu. Nu depind de nimeni. Nu cred decat in mine, si in puterea mea de a trece mai departe, de a ma ridica, de renaste din fiecare cadere. Recunosc in mine, egoismul, lipsa de modestie, sindromul narcisist, specifice instinctului de conservare... cele care insotesc animalul cel mai puternic... Dispare orice urma de umanitate? Oare? Nu. Pur si simplu umanitatea e un lucru pe care n-am la ce sa-l folosesc in momentul in care ma simt tradata... sau abandonata... sau mintita... atunci tot ceea ce imi vine in minte sunt gheare si dinti inclestati in gatul celui din cauza caruia sunt jos, si din cauza caruia trebuie sa reincep urcusul... Nici urma de sentimente inaltatoare, nici urma de dragoste si compasiune... nici urma de cer senin... Primal insinct at it's best... doar asa simt ca reusesc.
Imi doresc totusi sa nu-mi revad fata asta prea des. Cateodata ma sperie si pe mine...
Dar nu azi.
A.