Someone

Once upon a time, there was a flutter. A beating of wings, a soft touch, a full heart. 

Then, there was flight. Full of hope and love, determination and kindness, power, and above all, fearlessness. 

After that came rain. Sometimes warm and light, with the sunshine peaking through leaves. Most of the time, hard, heavy rain, with big, cold drops and angry sky. Thunderous. At times, a rainbow came. 

The days of anger were many. Too wet, too cold, too hungry, too scared. So angry. 

Then, came sleep. Restless sleep, full of darkness and again, fear. 

What's next? 

Oblivion. 

Discomfort

The world has let me down.

Or maybe it's revenge, or payback for the abuse it receives from me and everyone else. 

But can we just talk? A worldly conversation? 

I miss the talks we used to have: me in a forest, the world on the edge... 

It's been awhile. 

I am not who I used to be. 

The world isn't either.

Except we don't know who we are anymore. Or where we belong. 

I am on the edge of the forest, scared to go out. 

Out is the world and I don't know it. 

The world doesn't know me. The world is thin. I am not. 

I go back in the forest. 

The world does not follow and I am ok. For now. 

Tomorrow is another "on the edge" day. 

Words for my daughter

Happy Sweet 16, my love! I can’t believe you are 16. I want to stop the time, to keep you little, but then I would miss all the beauty you bring to the new days. So, I won’t. I will just say this...
You are my world
The life itself.
You hold love in your hands and
it becomes the air I breathe.
You grow and with you my heart rejoices.
You are my friend, my angel, my gift.
You are 16 today.
I wish for you to be true to yourself,
Courageous,
Fair and just.
I wish for you to always learn,
To challenge yourself,
To search.
I wish for you love,
Beauty,
Strength and generosity.
I wish for you to know my love.
Always.

Ready, Set, Go!

I want an award, a ribbon, a medal

Or maybe a statue, a fountain, a bench

What for? No reason, really. Although… 

My walls are blank and I am afraid of the white space. There, I said it.

So, give me something to put on my wall, or else, I will have to paint something

And what I am really afraid of is the colors

It’s better if I just get a medal. Then, we can keep talking about accomplishments not about fear

So, I will train to run a 5k

Then, I will get a medal.

Red

The perfect cure for sadness, said someone.
Red is the word, the emotion, the light, flowing from yellow to blue;
I feel it touching my back...
I feel it in my hair...
I feel it with my thoughts...
because it's not black or orange.

If red is not orange, but white is also not black,
is red also white?

I say it is the perfect cure for colorless emotions,
for words floating without purpose.
Red captures the letters,
the words,
the phrases,
and makes them feelings.
Not black.

The roar of the lions in the hot desert of the world,
the beauty of the deepest ocean on a winter,
white day.
Not blue.

The overwhelming desire of strong arms around my soul,
the permanence of rocks,
and the softness of skin.
Not white.

Lists

Fields of wheat. I miss them.
Fields of sunflowers. I miss those too.

Yesterday, I made a checklist of my soul. Today I have to update it.
Which one should I publish? You know, as a private victory of my constant personal inquiry...

We measure. We strive. We improve.
We change.
And then, we do it all over again.

When should I schedule my living?
I'll put it on the list.

Blame

Is it a hole I see inside my heart?
Looking in, it seems deep and cold... but the hole has a beat.
Is it my heart that beats?

The rain will wash the blood off the pavement.
Till next time... Next time it rains or next time there's a hole in a heart?
Someone's else's heart. Mine beats.

These are children, butterflies and flowers.
The blood streaks them all, they are looking for the holes...
In the hearts, in the sky, in the leaves.

Not enough people... not enough guns... not enough God...
Not enough rain.
But enough holes?

Mama

Such a full word, such a joy to be.
Is it me? Or you? How about you?
A collection of souls,
The sound of heartbeats
is deafening, but beautiful.

I hear her whisper further and further.
Through the years, my eyes are filled with those
blue tears
The soft touch of her hand flows through me
like the memory of beloved shadows.

Embrace her.

The butterfly

Once upon a time there was a leaf.
Blown in the wind, barely attached to this thin, almost powerless branch.
The leaf looked around and thought...
There's a world out there, full of passion and light
Why am I here?
Why do I stay?
What if this thin, almost powerless branch brakes?
I think I may let go...


Once upon a time there was a branch.
Blown in the wind, barely attached to this thick, almost beautiful trunk of a tree.
The branch looked around and thought...
Look at all of these big branches around me...
So strong, so fearless, so bold.
How I wish I was the branch at the top of the tree,
How I want to bathe in the sunlight, feel the leaves I hold breathe.
I think I may grow...


Once upon a time there was a tree.
Blown in the wind, deeply rooted in this earth, tall and strong on the top of a mountain.
The tree looked around and thought...
So much sky around me, so many branches and leaves, all holding on to me.
How I wish I was a butterfly...
Free, light, beautiful and unattached.
What if I just give up? For years I have been waiting to be free,
for years I have wanted to fly, for years...


Once upon a time there was a butterfly.
Floating in the wind, alone, but beautiful.
The butterfly rested on this leaf barely attached to this thin, almost powerless branch,
attached to this thick trunk of this tall and strong tree.
The butterfly looked around and thought...
Finally, I am home.


The tree breathed in all the power of the earth
The branch trembled and reached out to the sky
The leaf softened and drank from the roots of the sea
The butterfly rested.

Coming Back

I have tried writting differently. I have tried being more midstream. I am back. Back to my blog about me the way I am. No expectations. No planning. just words. Colors and shapes. And feelings. Thank you for waiting.

Tata Nitu

Today I remember my grandfather. Not that I don't think about him often, but today it's his name's day. We celebrate St. Nickolas day today and today used to be his day. My grandfather was strong and kind, loving and straight forward. He was handsome and perfect in my eyes. I lived with my grandparents till I was about five. I wish i could remember every day from that time. I have images, I have stories, I have smells, but I wish for more. I wish for those years to have not have ended. I wish for my grandfather to have known my daughter. She carries his name. And I know he watches over her. And me. Mi-e dor de tine, tata Nitu.

Strange feelings

I wish I could write everyday. I wish I could connect enough with myself and with the world and that connection would be coherent enough for me to be able to express it in words. Words have always fascinated me. It may be because if I was skilled enough I could hide behind them and nobody would know who I really was. Or it may be a real desire for creativity, a way to attempt connection. Any kind.

I had an energy medicine session last week and it left me rather raw and vulnerable. I am sort of enjoying this new feeling of being exposed to the world. I am a little scared of it, but it also feels like home in a strange way. I feel like a volcano. Is it still active? Is there lava under there, waiting to errupt? How does it feel to be the people in the village at the bottom of the volcano. You never know...

I am vulnerable to the world. I am starting to see who I am. I am battling with loads of generational baggage. I am in love with the lava.

What energizes me?

When life throws me in a whirlpool, when things don't go my way or any way... When I feel lost and need comfort, when I need some extra energy...

I go outside and let the sunhine warm me inside and out
I marvel at the beauty of nature
I play with my girl
I blow bubbles
I read a good book
I paint
I drink ice cold water
I stop and observe the moment
I cry
I lament to a good friend
I get and give a hug
I love.

What to you do?

My Mondo Beyondo List

- Be a writer
- Win the Nobel Prize for Literature
- Heal people
- Meet Bruce Springsteen
- Own a restaurant
- Own a bookshop for children with a huge arts and crafts area
- Live for awhile on each continent - two down :-)
- Help people in third world countries
- Find true love and throw myself in it full force

Some of these I have been dreaming since I was a kid. I am still dreaming...

The poem that seems to define the NOW

The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--determined to save
the only life you could save.

Mary Oliver

I'm back

It has been awhile... Why such a long break, one may ask? I have started a journey, a journey for the soul. I am reclaiming myself, making myself known by ME. So far, my writing has been about a lot of repressed feelings, hiding behind metaphors. I hope for a more direct, sustained experience now. Here's to a new start...

The Tree

A tree is growing from my heart. I thought I was dreaming. I woke up in the morning and felt a leaf tickling my throat. Hmmm... Did I eat leaves last night?? I went on living for awhile longer and one morning, I felt the leaf again. It really is a tree: beautiful, solid, with lots of roots. I can see it in the left side of my heart.

I guess it's time to give my heart a thorough inspection. I haven't spent too much time with it lately. It's a shame, really. It has so much to say, and it usually makes me feel like I am part of myself again. I see colors, I see wind, the sea is still there, salty and enormous. The flowers I once burried in there are still alive. How can that be? Thank you, my heart. Oh, yes. I can see the compartments too. I have built them so carefully, thick walls, no windows. Safe. Just in case I decide to look inside sometime. There are couple of holes in some of them, I'll have to fix them later. Heart, please send a note to my brain about this.

This is interesting: there's a window here. Did I put it there? I don't remember it. I can see so clearly through it. All of a sudden my compartments are not safe anymore. I can see my whole world in this window. I am vulnerable. I am afraid. I am hopeful. I am in love. I think I'll keep it.
Thank God for the tree growing in my heart!

Carnival

Let's go to the carnival.
Let's watch the acrobats fly, let's imagine they are us.
Let's fly freely, with no fear of falling.

A rose? Sure, I will take one. I will wear it in my hair.
I am a gypsy. I come with the wind, I leave when the flowers bloom.
You want to ride the carousel?
Be careful. The world is spinning, the colors bleed and blend.
What color are you?

Yes, the clowns are here too.
They make me laugh... a little. I just know they are sad.
I know, I should ask them to fly.

Today, the clowns are acrobats, the acrobats are elephants,
and we are endless.

Broken?

I knew it was broken when I touched it that day.
That roughness of the edge, the smooth sides and the change in color…
I asked my friends and they agreed
I took it outside to look at it in the sunlight.
Same.
It was broken.
I used to love the intense deepness and the clarity I would always see in it.
I spent hours gazing into its abyss, bathing in all the nuances,
running with it, flowing with it, swimming in it.
I missed that unbelievable blue. It used to reflect so nicely into my eyes…
Well…
Maybe I can fix it. I mean, surely, it’s not broken for good, right?
If I can just find that missing piece…
Maybe I can grow the missing piece.
I know, it won’t be the same, but it will be whole again.
I will be able to sink into it again.
Others will be able to enjoy it too.
Especially since theirs is probably broken too…
I know. I will hold it close, love it, wrap it in gentleness, collect colors from the rainbow and dip it in them, warm it up in the sunlight, sing to it, make it feel safe.
It will be whole again…
… my heart.

Letter to my mentor

It was a dark day, it was a cold day
We were sitting in that old building, in a small apartment, the air smelling of moth balls
I was searching; you have done your search
I was young; you were at the end of your journey
Questions, comments, discussions, opinions, advice… I had it all
Not from you
You told me to search my soul
You told me to look outside
You told me to listen to my heart
You told me to tell everyone to shut-up
You told me to decide
and continue searching
I did
You are gone
I am here, still here, still searching, but happy with what I found so far
I can sit in an old building, in a small apartment and
I hope I will tell someone else to continue searching…