I am going for an expression that would embody the old Chinese habit of ruining the perfection of an art piece or of a human being by willingly scratching a tiny spot of the cup, smudging a painting or putting an ugly hat on the nice person, in order to prevent "the Gods from being envious on their beauty and ruin it for the humans". But I couldn't find the exact expression in a short search on the net, so I am going ahead and using what I suppose it should sound like.
Anyway, such a belief explains the tendency to brag about the nice things in our life, but only up to a limit. And instead to let it all out when it comes to nostalgia, depression, anger and so on, a thing that the modern culture kind of also encourages. So, between blabbing about the perfect days and complaining about the bad ones, I would say that the complaining prevails.
Which makes it harder and harder to express genuine appreciation for the good things we sometimes experience. Not meaningless, only-personally-precious moments like "I saw a ray of light, this made my day", but some good facts, that could be also appreciated by others and have the potential of brightening. They make us happy, but also bring a weird silence. Maybe we are afraid to jinx them. But it is rarely happening, hearing an objective positive story from people.
Instead, the whining is a means of relating, of communicating: the speaker is emptying his emotional trash on the others, the listeners have an inner sometimes even unconscious satisfaction out of comparing themselves with the whiner and finding a friend in the same need or in a far worse one that their own. So, I heard people whining about the sunny days, but also about the rainy ones, about all the seasons and all kinds of situations...It is also contagious, and often I hear my lips whining without my full approval to do so...Well, we go along with the times we live in, right?
In the same order of ideas, had a couple of nice, better days. Hope not to jinx it. The only problem, so nice that I couldn't find the dim button in the evenings...
And also, I've lost track a bit of a dear friend, maybe this person reads these and can send some news...? I am thinking of writing (uau!) a non-electronic letter and post it, but still hoping I will find an update message these days...All the hugs and hope everything is OK.
Sunday, 29 May 2011
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
What to say...
Lately, I see a habit: one post in Romanian, one in English. So I guess it's the turn of the English post, therefore "What to say?"
No news about the plants of this year, haven't seen them in a while, no garden visits lately.
I miss the old atmosphere, the one I've known as a child, the temperature, the perfume of the flowers in the trees of the city, the noises, the uncrowded streets, the night light flickering through the branches. Of course, it was a different city I am talking about, but even if I visit the same place this entire picture is not there, I have tried and I know. This way, being at a distance, I can bask in the lie that all the nice urban feelings from the past are still out there.
I found myself wondering yesterday how are younger people perceiving the streets and cities they walk on and live in. All that matters is the age, and the busy robotic cities of today look different in the eyes of younger people, or nobody cares, nobody has their sensitivity open to the beauty of daily places?
The unaesthetic streets of today that mean nothing to me are full of meaning for youngsters, or they just don't notice such outdated details, and they are all about the mp3-s sounding in their ears, their phones, their overcrowded social relations, electronic and face to face?
I miss the poetical misfits, who didn't look for adrenaline rush in bad habits, and preferred to gather around some coffee or wine, smoke and talk about their random questions on life. Now the gatherings are planned and not a moment must be left unorganized, the coffee is bad for the organism, the cigarettes are unhealthy...
And the conversations revolve around politics, and jobs, and eco this and bio that, or just grownup talk, children, education, banks, all in a serious, head-achy way.
Oh, and the former good for nothing misfits, to see some of them so different and solemn, almost not remembering the way they used to look at life, with high hopes, with mysterious hopes that something great is going to come, and that if not, they would just keep protesting to all that is bad in their parents generations...
There was a witty reply in a movie "I was so worried not to become my mom, that I didn't notice I am turning into my dad". the sad thing is that we are becoming a bit of both, and not in the good way. We are becoming the old, the rival of the next generation, and we haven't even got the chance to fully live our childhood.
Playing house just got upgraded to playing family, playing job, and we have acted so intensely that the leading personality is now the play one.
So, where are the may evenings with the intense linden flowers smell, almost materializing on the streets like a dense fog? All I missed then was a soul mate to share the magic with, and I never even remotely imagined that today, having who to share all that with, I will discover that it 's all just in my memories now...
No news about the plants of this year, haven't seen them in a while, no garden visits lately.
I miss the old atmosphere, the one I've known as a child, the temperature, the perfume of the flowers in the trees of the city, the noises, the uncrowded streets, the night light flickering through the branches. Of course, it was a different city I am talking about, but even if I visit the same place this entire picture is not there, I have tried and I know. This way, being at a distance, I can bask in the lie that all the nice urban feelings from the past are still out there.
I found myself wondering yesterday how are younger people perceiving the streets and cities they walk on and live in. All that matters is the age, and the busy robotic cities of today look different in the eyes of younger people, or nobody cares, nobody has their sensitivity open to the beauty of daily places?
The unaesthetic streets of today that mean nothing to me are full of meaning for youngsters, or they just don't notice such outdated details, and they are all about the mp3-s sounding in their ears, their phones, their overcrowded social relations, electronic and face to face?
I miss the poetical misfits, who didn't look for adrenaline rush in bad habits, and preferred to gather around some coffee or wine, smoke and talk about their random questions on life. Now the gatherings are planned and not a moment must be left unorganized, the coffee is bad for the organism, the cigarettes are unhealthy...
And the conversations revolve around politics, and jobs, and eco this and bio that, or just grownup talk, children, education, banks, all in a serious, head-achy way.
Oh, and the former good for nothing misfits, to see some of them so different and solemn, almost not remembering the way they used to look at life, with high hopes, with mysterious hopes that something great is going to come, and that if not, they would just keep protesting to all that is bad in their parents generations...
There was a witty reply in a movie "I was so worried not to become my mom, that I didn't notice I am turning into my dad". the sad thing is that we are becoming a bit of both, and not in the good way. We are becoming the old, the rival of the next generation, and we haven't even got the chance to fully live our childhood.
Playing house just got upgraded to playing family, playing job, and we have acted so intensely that the leading personality is now the play one.
So, where are the may evenings with the intense linden flowers smell, almost materializing on the streets like a dense fog? All I missed then was a soul mate to share the magic with, and I never even remotely imagined that today, having who to share all that with, I will discover that it 's all just in my memories now...
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
Saracenii
"Unde nu e nãdejde de dobândã lipseşte şi îndemnul de lucru. Cine lucreazã vrea sã câştige, iarã sãrãcenii şi-au fost scos gândul de câştig; pentru aceea nici nu se aflau îndemnaţi sã lucreze. Cât puteau, petreceau vremea întinşi la rãcoare; nu puteau, îşi mâncau zilele lucrând prin alte sate învecinate. Când venea apoi iarna... vai şi amar!"
Iar cine e deprins cu rãul, la mai bine nici nu gândeşte; sãrãcenilor le pãrea cã, decât aşa, mai bine nici nu poate fi. Peştele-n apã, pasãrea-n aer, cârtiţa în pãmânt şi sãrãcenenii în sãrãcie!"
Cam asa ca pe saraceni ii vad pe multi oameni de prin tara asta. Tare imi place povestea lui Slavici ca se termina cu bine. Desigur, cand se apuca omul din poveste de impletit lese si castigat ceva banuti, nu apareau noi legi care sa ii ia si izmenele de pe el. Si nici nu ii batea la poarta banca sa il amagesca cu imprumuturi si viitorul utopic in care curge lapte si miere mai inainte de a se apuca incet, incet, sa faca ba un gard, ba un acoperis cu ce avea si el la indemana. S-au schimbat multe in peisaj si se prea poate ca in ziua de azi sa nu mai mearga nici solutia din poveste, care duce la finalul fericit. Deh...
Dar e un adevar mare ca fara speranta de un castig rezonabil dintr-o munca cat de cat placuta, omul "nedresat" nu prea are chef de nimic. Sta prin birt, prin curte, sau pe unde o mai sta, numa bine sa il vada cate un ministru sau reporter in cautare de subiecte de peroratie. E tare la moda sa arati cu degetul, acuzator: iata unde sta problema! Daca astia ar munci, daca astia nu ar manca atata sau ar face curat/sport/cantari populare, eheeei, pai atunci gata, toate ar fi bune. Imediat s-ar revarsa bogatia in tarisoara noastra, ba am primi si ceva calde strangeri de maini de la ue...
Postarea asta fara prea mare entuziasm a fost provocata de vorba "frumoasa tara, pacat ca e locuita". Dar de ce, bre? Las sa fie. Problema e mai adanca si nu numai cu oamenii. Nu vine de ieri de alaltaieri. Aici si pamantul e suparat, ataca cu spini si tufe incalcite, cu gongi, gandaci, namol si surpari...Un pic daca il lasi, se face parloaga si isi pune si niste urzici in cap, sa nu iti mai arda sa il deranjezi.
Nu e de mirare. Nici pamantul si nici omul nu mai stiu ce e cu ei. Multi au plecat de "acasa", i-a dus viata in locuri noi, unde nu mai au aceeasi legatura cu peisajul vizual si sonor, cu soarele, cu vegetatia. Si de la un sat la altul si simti schimbarea, daramite dintr-un capat de tara in altul. Cine ajunge la mai bine, se uita crucis ca ce usor e dincoace si ce nu apreciaza localnicii norocul lor, cine ajunge la mai rau ofteaza, se mai ofileste o petala doua, si se simte un pic strain...mereu. Noii veniti adesea nu inteleg, nu "aud" natura si nu o pot stapani, iar locurile se lasa rar imblanzite.
Nu se mai multumeste in gand copacului cand iti da fructele, pamantului cand iti creste plantele. Oamenii se plang monoton, si in anii rai si in cei buni. De ce ar fi altfel? Nu in putine randuri gasesti ciobani care nu sufera branza, agricultori ad-hoc deloc incantati ca trebuie sa cultive ceva, crescatori de animale care le injura sau le sacrifica fara pic de regrete, asa cum mai demult faceau numai unii pe la sat, "aia, sucitii".
Iar orasenii care mai iau pe ici pe colo locul taranilor...multe vor, putine le ies.(subscriu)Pai agricultura cu maini fine si cu bani putini, asta e un fel de utopie. Mai aveau si odinioara "domni", cum li se zicea generic, pamanturi, dar ei erau cu ideile si cu banul, iar forta de munca era tot palmasa.
Altfel, omul cu rabdarea si Dumnezeu cu mila. Daca nu s-ar gasi si de cumparat, sa traim din ce cultivam asa, ca o strutocamila oraseano-sateasca, ar fi vai si amar.
Noroc (vorba vine) ca se schimba vremurile si ca dispar babutzele, nu mai are cine sa se ia cu mainile de cap cand bajbaim noi sa cultivam de toate pe soluri unde cei de odinioara stiau ca nu merge decat aia si ailalta. De-acu' facem ce ne taie capul si ne tine spinarea, pana obosim si ne asezam langa o tufa de urzici...
Nici babele astea nu erau mafalde, e drept, ca treaba cu omul rupt de pamant ...se munceste la ea de cel putin 45 de ani. In mod industrializat s-a impus cultivarea nu dupa ce se potriveste, ci dupa ce trebuie sa se bage in plan. Plus ca rodul muncii il luau unii si il bagau in sac, era norma zdravana care trebuia data la "stat". Vorba vine...stat. Cine aduna, parte isi facea, si erau multi pe linie ierarhica la treaba asta cu adunatul...pana la depozit mai ramanea uneori doar hartia. De pe atunci "saracenii si-au scos gandul de la castig". Asta ca sa nu ma duc mai in urma in istorie, ca m-am plictisit...
Pana la urma si pamantul si oamenii mai au ceva in comun: supararea. Lehamitea, frustrarea, lipsa de chef...si alte frumoase atribute pe care unii le plimba la carciuma, altii le vindeca in sclavagia in tari straine, altii le baga sub pres si zambesc fals.
Iar cine e deprins cu rãul, la mai bine nici nu gândeşte; sãrãcenilor le pãrea cã, decât aşa, mai bine nici nu poate fi. Peştele-n apã, pasãrea-n aer, cârtiţa în pãmânt şi sãrãcenenii în sãrãcie!"
Cam asa ca pe saraceni ii vad pe multi oameni de prin tara asta. Tare imi place povestea lui Slavici ca se termina cu bine. Desigur, cand se apuca omul din poveste de impletit lese si castigat ceva banuti, nu apareau noi legi care sa ii ia si izmenele de pe el. Si nici nu ii batea la poarta banca sa il amagesca cu imprumuturi si viitorul utopic in care curge lapte si miere mai inainte de a se apuca incet, incet, sa faca ba un gard, ba un acoperis cu ce avea si el la indemana. S-au schimbat multe in peisaj si se prea poate ca in ziua de azi sa nu mai mearga nici solutia din poveste, care duce la finalul fericit. Deh...
Dar e un adevar mare ca fara speranta de un castig rezonabil dintr-o munca cat de cat placuta, omul "nedresat" nu prea are chef de nimic. Sta prin birt, prin curte, sau pe unde o mai sta, numa bine sa il vada cate un ministru sau reporter in cautare de subiecte de peroratie. E tare la moda sa arati cu degetul, acuzator: iata unde sta problema! Daca astia ar munci, daca astia nu ar manca atata sau ar face curat/sport/cantari populare, eheeei, pai atunci gata, toate ar fi bune. Imediat s-ar revarsa bogatia in tarisoara noastra, ba am primi si ceva calde strangeri de maini de la ue...
Postarea asta fara prea mare entuziasm a fost provocata de vorba "frumoasa tara, pacat ca e locuita". Dar de ce, bre? Las sa fie. Problema e mai adanca si nu numai cu oamenii. Nu vine de ieri de alaltaieri. Aici si pamantul e suparat, ataca cu spini si tufe incalcite, cu gongi, gandaci, namol si surpari...Un pic daca il lasi, se face parloaga si isi pune si niste urzici in cap, sa nu iti mai arda sa il deranjezi.
Nu e de mirare. Nici pamantul si nici omul nu mai stiu ce e cu ei. Multi au plecat de "acasa", i-a dus viata in locuri noi, unde nu mai au aceeasi legatura cu peisajul vizual si sonor, cu soarele, cu vegetatia. Si de la un sat la altul si simti schimbarea, daramite dintr-un capat de tara in altul. Cine ajunge la mai bine, se uita crucis ca ce usor e dincoace si ce nu apreciaza localnicii norocul lor, cine ajunge la mai rau ofteaza, se mai ofileste o petala doua, si se simte un pic strain...mereu. Noii veniti adesea nu inteleg, nu "aud" natura si nu o pot stapani, iar locurile se lasa rar imblanzite.
Nu se mai multumeste in gand copacului cand iti da fructele, pamantului cand iti creste plantele. Oamenii se plang monoton, si in anii rai si in cei buni. De ce ar fi altfel? Nu in putine randuri gasesti ciobani care nu sufera branza, agricultori ad-hoc deloc incantati ca trebuie sa cultive ceva, crescatori de animale care le injura sau le sacrifica fara pic de regrete, asa cum mai demult faceau numai unii pe la sat, "aia, sucitii".
Iar orasenii care mai iau pe ici pe colo locul taranilor...multe vor, putine le ies.(subscriu)Pai agricultura cu maini fine si cu bani putini, asta e un fel de utopie. Mai aveau si odinioara "domni", cum li se zicea generic, pamanturi, dar ei erau cu ideile si cu banul, iar forta de munca era tot palmasa.
Altfel, omul cu rabdarea si Dumnezeu cu mila. Daca nu s-ar gasi si de cumparat, sa traim din ce cultivam asa, ca o strutocamila oraseano-sateasca, ar fi vai si amar.
Noroc (vorba vine) ca se schimba vremurile si ca dispar babutzele, nu mai are cine sa se ia cu mainile de cap cand bajbaim noi sa cultivam de toate pe soluri unde cei de odinioara stiau ca nu merge decat aia si ailalta. De-acu' facem ce ne taie capul si ne tine spinarea, pana obosim si ne asezam langa o tufa de urzici...
Nici babele astea nu erau mafalde, e drept, ca treaba cu omul rupt de pamant ...se munceste la ea de cel putin 45 de ani. In mod industrializat s-a impus cultivarea nu dupa ce se potriveste, ci dupa ce trebuie sa se bage in plan. Plus ca rodul muncii il luau unii si il bagau in sac, era norma zdravana care trebuia data la "stat". Vorba vine...stat. Cine aduna, parte isi facea, si erau multi pe linie ierarhica la treaba asta cu adunatul...pana la depozit mai ramanea uneori doar hartia. De pe atunci "saracenii si-au scos gandul de la castig". Asta ca sa nu ma duc mai in urma in istorie, ca m-am plictisit...
Pana la urma si pamantul si oamenii mai au ceva in comun: supararea. Lehamitea, frustrarea, lipsa de chef...si alte frumoase atribute pe care unii le plimba la carciuma, altii le vindeca in sclavagia in tari straine, altii le baga sub pres si zambesc fals.
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