Saturday reminded me of the times when I used to sing, of the rehearsals and the emotions at the final rehearsal. It seemed that time wasn’t there. We were working long hours, days and nights just to feel prepared on the stage. Wasn’t the performance but the rehearsals that made those times so special. It did not always matter whether it was good or not..it just marked the end of the moments we felt so alive.
Saturday was special. I went to Nijmegen for a classical concert. During the day I had a walk in the city. Autumn there is the most beautiful combination of grey and brown. I know it isn’t the nicest association that would come in one’s mind but it surely has a certain type of cold beauty.
The evening was getting a bit warmer with Verdi, Mozart and Wagner. The one hundred men chorus performed fragments from the composers operas. It was completely relaxing, I did not feel the three hours passing. I would like to know more about this wonderful music. It’s famous, it is easily recognisable…it is however difficult to get to its substance. It managed to make me feel like singing again…?
One thing that I’ve always found strange as a child was the attitude of some parents towards the toys they buy for their children. I remember when I went to the birthday of one of my friends her room was full of untouched toys. They were all ‘new and beautiful’, some even in the box. She wasn’t actually allowed to play with them, they were to beautiful and precious to take the risk of breaking them. She had to be happy with the simple fact of having them..and she believed she was. Whenever I entered in that room mixed feelings invaded my mind. I was feeling pity, jealous ( mine had always a ‘error’ after a while-a hand, a leg, a dress, a hair-cut:)), guilty for the way treated them and willing to taste the forbidden. I was always half convinced that this should be the way to treat dolls and other toys.
This memory came to me yesterday while I realised that I have so many beautiful ‘things’ that I don;t use for the fear of a possible risk. I simply don;t dare to take out things from the shelves. they are all mine but should not be damaged, neither enjoyed nor damaged. Let them be, let them give me a false sense of security. Then I see the others playing my early age role, a mix of feelings which sometimes end up in blaming, misunderstanding or the worst of all silence…
Lately I am trying to catch up with universal literature that I think I did not read at the right moment. However I feel that despite all odds there is no such thing as right moment when it comes to lecture. I believe that what I lost was more a certain way of perceiving a fact at a particular moment in the past. Anyways, yesterday I finished the ‘Frenchmens Creek’ and there I refound the incredible power and courage to empty the shelves that I just described, to completely use the resources you have, the beauty surrounding the risk and the tranquil manner of accepting the consequences.
There are presents hard to be given a shape, there are people hard to be guessed, less exposed in terms of wishes. Recently I discovered how nice is to work with clay. I felt like creating and sharing. I thought that in this manner I can offer something that went through my hands, something carrying an idea, a personal perception of a certain moment, person, feature.
I had to think of a present idea for a very interesting person who would always prefer something simple and less girlish. I dropped a few times my attempt to create a necklace. I was worrying for every color, any type of shine, shape…but in the meantime time it sounded definitely tempting..In my struggle for any idea I remember that she loves oranges and chocolate. ..and so I combine them. It sounds so ’sweet’, bright and delicious and it is in fact so simple. I have actually hidden the small necklace between lots of oranges and chocolate.
I would like to learn to use simple ideas in a very meaningful way…
I was sort of out from the blog because whenever I started to write there was something to do, someone to visit or simply other ideas which did not let me ‘organise’ the time I should dedicate to this blog. The last one and a half weeks did not follow the usual pattern of my days. They were made of strong moments, inspiration, wonder, energy, tiredness…
My brother came for a couple of days to visit me, to be together for my 25th. I haven’t seen him for a while. I forgot how good it is to wait impatiently in the railway station, to receive the very first hug and then to walk home and spend the days as if they would never end. His presence here combined old and new. The old feeling of home inevitable came back to me but at the same time we were somehow catching up with the new, meeting the others life. Unlike the past there was no time for fighting:)) even thought I miss it sometimes.
He brought with him a lot of positive, pragmatic energy. I always try to learn something from every person I meet. I never thought that my little brother would ever be a real source of inspiration. As children we take each others presence for granted, we are following the game, we get easily annoyed and bored. Now he was there, his ideas were great, clear, practical, he can easily sort out the things, professionally he is doing fine..I am so proud of him. I should borrow sometimes his winner attitude.
We celebrated my birthday. This year its a transitional one for me, therefore I did not really wanted to much celebration:). However I let myself convinced that in he end of the day 25 is a ‘great number’ and I shouldn’t let it go like that. A lot of people came to see me, more than expected after I wrote an obviously boring invitation. It was nice to see them, to hear some new stories. Some people are always huggable.
On the day of my official birthday I went for a ‘one day walk’ in Amsterdam. Whenever I go there I feel so guilty for not loving it from the beginning. This time I saw a different Amsterdam. I had sun and rain, old and new and the certitude that there is much more out there to discover. I was indeed happy to be there.
I won’t neglect my blog anymore because there is so much to say now and so little time left.
My life rhythm programmed me quiet Sundays. It was reserved mainly for visiting people who I didn’t manage to see during the week, to some family reunions or just random walk and refreshing talks. What I particularly like about autumn Sundays is that I contemplate rather than participate. It does not mean that I dislike action:) It’s just the fact that on these particular days I can ’ignore’ most of the things and cover myself with a warm blanket, read a good book, have a cup of delicious cinnamon apple tea….and listen to my favorite chill out radio.
This Sunday however I was missing the sea, the beach…cold, warm, windy… did not matter. I spent the afternoon there. The wind was so strong that I could almost lean on it. We had a lot of fun by running against the wind, sitting on the cold sand and sharing stories, ideas. I wanted to remind myself that I am restricted only by my own consciousness, that the limits are decided by myself, by my fears and anguish. The sea gave me the limitlessness I needed, the confirmation of the barriers I set on my own path. It’s all in me, I have the power…but not the memory:), if I need to be reminded.
I ended up in a warm cosy cafeteria with a nice view of the sea. I had an apple cake, an autumn tea and a good recharging day.
School used to start in September. My first days were always filled with unexplainable enthusiasm and my night before with unforgettable insomnia. Like an ongoing engine I was thinking of nothing and getting out from the bed as soon as I could see clearly the mountains from my window. Some schools were starting at 8, ours at 9. I had one full hour to amplify my excitement:)) by watching other children going towards schools. I just wanted to run and to stop in the school yard. And I am sure the thing wasn’t about the school itself.:)
I guess children can live thoroughly a new begin without even thinking about it. They attach a lot of sentiments to it, they never think of ‘the end of the beginning’. They put in it a lot of energy, run through it and never wonder what comes next.
For a couple of years ‘my energy’ went in these Septembers. I loved to play with the coloured leaves, to sit in them, to turn them weapon in the autumn’s ‘leaf fight’, to bring them home, to draw them, to stick them on my wall saying ‘it’s autumn in here as well.’ I loved the unreliable September sun as my parents could never blame for not wearing the right clothes…There were so many things related to this beginning.
Last night when I started to write this entry I was completely in the child autumn mood. Now that I am out the mood and out of those times:) I wish I could have the same spontaneous, pure enthusiasm whenever I start…. However, it has a healing effect on my autumn melancholia…sometimes.
Once upon a time, there were two little girls. They were supposed to be friends due to their mothers ever lasting friendship. The story dates back to their early years of life, however they remember it from the age of 7. Two different little girls who had to play, find common things in the children’s room while their mothers were chatting so intensively.
One was stubborn and loud the other good and quite. They never liked the same things. E. was very happy surrounded by many friends and toys….even thought her family was caring a sad story behind. L. was an observer of people, toys…she liked them but never dared to touch. Sitting in a circle, with lots of dolls and toys between them they were trying to build a bridge. They managed. However, L. did not care about it anymore when E’s friends came to see it and enjoyed playing with it.
Adolescence brings them face to face again. E was forever in love, listening to loud house music, dressing odd and being…..a normal teenage. L was an atypical teenage…in fact she was never one. L decided to leave her small home town study in an elite high school where she could learn foreign languages and be together with people like her. E kept writing her describing feelings which made L laugh and kept her quite. E was trying to keep the bond; calling L her best friend….L was just watching.
They were both preparing for college. Unconsciously they decided for the same city. They met a few times. L forgot E’s birthdays, E never did. L had friends that did not like E meanwhile, E’s friends were accepting L but she was not feeling comfortable with them. One day E calls asking L if she could move with her for a while as she has no place to live. L’s voice said an uncertain yes. It was one year of sharing, of joy. They just forgot about having things in common, it wasn’t necessary.. until the point when they discovered a ‘common love’ for the turquoise colour. They were both pointing to turquoise.
A few thousand kilometres separate them now and they both turn 25. One night L started to make a necklace from clay painting it. ..turquoise. It’s a gift from her heart through her hands. It’s a manner of apologising for the quietness and celebrating the joy and the music E brought to her life.
Venice is a place hard to leave. At least I could hardly leave it. In my very short vacation (3 days) I have numerous times decided to move there:)). What I did try to do is to internalize it to a point where its streets, buildings and art could be taken for granted. I failed ..of course.
The first day I decided to let the beauty of Venice come to me. Without a map or other touristic information I followed the magic of the streets . I felt that this would be the only manner to take with me the vibe of the city. No directions, no hurry, no closing hours, no focus on the camera’s battery and …a heavy rain:)
It was so easy to forget about the rain and even easier to match it in the context. Rainy Venice is not cold, does not push you inside, it simply gives you the feeling that a small umbrella and your curiosity can discover a different face of the city. I could somehow hide from its ever lasting touristic invasion and see everyday life: children going to school, people doing their groceries, owners arranging proudly their small cosy shops…and again they all seemed to take that beauty for granted. I am not referring to it in a negative manner, it is just the fact that makes me wonder so often. I guess it is very interesting to associate people with the things they might take for granted..I wanted to be part of it…somehow.
This experience made my second day. The sun came out, the spirit of the well known Venice was there..the islands were colorful and the sunset from the St George Islands was simply unforgettable. I choose to visit two islands: Murano and Burano. The first one it’s the home of the famous Murano glass.
I found there small houses and lots of my favourite cosy shops were the glass is family business. I bought a few pieces for my necklace design hobby..I will try my best to keep up to the quality of these marvelous small pieces. I walked arround the island and I tried to take with me as much as I could.
My second and most wanted stop was at the island of Burano. I have always wished to be there. It’s a place full of color, of life and wonderful lace. I would say a perfect place to live…althought impractical in the opinion of many:). Despite its touristic fame Burano looks untouched. I remained speechless when I found myself in the heart of so much color. It’s happy and sober, cosy and imposant…and I hardly have words left. Maybe I will just dedicate a post to it.
The sunset seen from the St Giorgio island was breathtaking:
..and the beauty and talent behind the cultural heritage made my third day rich..so incredibly rich.
I wanted to remind myself that I am restricted only by my own consciousness, that the limits are decided by myself, by my fears and anguish. The sea gave me the limitlessness I needed, the confirmation of the barriers I set on my own path. It’s all in me, I have the power…but not the memory:), if I need to be reminded.
Venice is a place hard to leave. At least I could hardly leave it. In my very short vacation (3 days) I have numerous times decided to move there:)). What I did try to do is to internalize it to a point where its streets, buildings and art could be taken for granted. I failed ..of course.
