Archive for the ‘Musing’ Category

When Two People Love Being With Each Other is French Fries a Good Topic?

Posted: April 27, 2013 in book; books, epistolary, Musing, Musings, opinion, philosophy, relationships
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Wise Friend,

Years ago you wrote: “We communicate only via writing or phone, which makes us feel good most of the times. However, sometimes it hurts when either of us or both feel frustrated. Also, we have to deal with a lack of continuity and with the question of how honest we could be within these kinds of communication.”

On the one hand, either of us or both of us could choose what would more comfortable and leave aside real confrontations; this would be cowardice, isn’t it (on my behalf)?

Sensitive Friend,

When two people love being around each other, they can talk about French fries and enjoy each other.

Wise Friend,

On the other hand, you seem to imply, which I find acceptable, that this is not good for you and the communication would become sterile. Had we choose to dive deeper into some specific question you might raise, into an impression of mine that I suddenly saw a little light in a corner I never noticed.

You have integrity, while at the same time you move around from topic to topic with so much agility; you might start an idea, and suddenly you change your mind.

Sometimes I ask you something specific, I need your answer, and you move on to another subject, and we go on from there.

It’s OK for me, but we deviate from the flow. There is something else in this complex communication: my topics are not easy to address, and I’m not always clear. I never know how my subjects touch you, given the context of your thoughts and your disposition at the very moment when you open my email or when we talk over the phone.

It forces me to restrain myself and to weigh much too much every word I write or say. You turn, now.

Sensitive Friend,

Starting with an idea and moving to another subject was not a sign of agility. At that time, I lacked the discipline to stay with the topic at hand.

I wanted to speak about everything that might have tangentially touched the subject, or I thought about in the absence of our communication. I’ve improved a lot, and I get so much more satisfaction when staying with the topic discussed until clear. Now, I notice as others change the subject and I don’t enjoy it, at all.

I wonder what I answered at the time of our interaction.

When Tenderness Comes Too Late?

Posted: April 21, 2013 in book; books, epistolary, Fiction, Musing, Musings, opinion, philosophy, relationships
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Dearest Friend,

Delauney’s painting – Sometimes I look at it, and it seems as agitated as our souls right now. A few minutes later, I look again, and I see peace and quiet, but with energy and fire. Somehow it represents us: while it scares me, it calms me as well, and it gives me joy, too. Be happy; it’s your birthday.

Delauney

Wise Friend,

I’m so far. I wish I would be able to touch you so slightly, so lightly. Happy birthday and many happy returns – please laugh a lot with your beautiful laughter.

You brought me a fantastic year. I wish you goodness and a comfortable life, and to never regret that gift so loaded, so pregnant. Whatever has happened, our love, may it be a sign of only good things to come to you.

Dearest Friend,

Now, don’t blame me. What possibilities, do you think that could have crossed my mind back then? After two years, I left him. I was nine years younger than you, and I was so immature.

How was it possible that I was there for those years, and we didn’t ‘know’ each one about the other and each one for the other? Has life toyed with us, like a joke? What did it want from us to prove?

That we’re two people kind and caring? I have no idea if I would have reacted to your signs. I responded to the warmth in your voice, at sunset, looking both of us over that valley I love. I acted, not as an adult, but as a little child to whom somebody finally told how valuable might be.

Wise Friend,

Maybe if you had persisted, I would have been intoxicated. It’s your fault you moved me too late and too fast. I left that place, the beloved country, with your words in my soul, with the warmth of your voice, feeling to some extent the attraction you had felt, not more than that.

You say you kept pushing the gas pedal, knowingly that the engine was not on. Suddenly the engine started, and we forgot reason. I, like you, had not imagined this was possible, even if deep down maybe I, like you, knew it was.

Why not, if we knew this is what we wanted, then why no other person who wanted the same showed up?

Are You Able to Carry a Stone Within Your Heart?

Posted: April 21, 2013 in book; books, epistolary, Fiction, Musing, Musings, opinion, philosophy, relationships, Uncategorized
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Wise Friend,

Inner peace is inner, and only we can give it to us. How? Sometimes, I think that I found the formula. Later I wake up to the fact that I forgot to apply it. However, so much depends on us and our attitude.

Dearest Friend,

It wasn’t about carrying a stone within my heart. I’m able to carry heart stones. It was about, what you believed, and what I thought that you understood. I couldn’t let it happen between us. At least for now.

Wise Friend,

Now, there are two people inside me. I live with the feeling that I’m hiding something from you, but we have no choice. I’m afraid that you won’t like any longer the person I’m now.

I clench my teeth and continue with what we started, as it’s decent, or maybe it’s a must, or it’s just wise; this is called “looking after myself.”

I’m obsessed with the thought that, by being quiet, I lie to you, I let you believe something else. I’m not at peace; I don’t want to lose you. I tell my self I don’t have you anyway, such was life; this is what you decided. Later, I say myself that we both decided; then I’m too tired, I give up for a few days to look after the other person within me…

We’re not yet used to not connecting for two weeks. Later music follows, I go to a play, a show, a museum, walking, or I drive for a more extended stretch or maybe just that time arrived again to feel torn between the two people inside me.

Dearest Friend,

I know what you say. With whom are you comparing these group of people? They are not perfect, but overall they behave like good strong, kind, and reliable people. It’s so incredible that the others look at them, at their history and what they’ve achieved and continuously demonise them. Did they ever err? Certainly, they did! Like whom would they be? Please show me the group.

Wise Friend,

There is a toddler in my life. I miss her. I miss putting my head on the back of her neck and hear her laughter.

When she was here, visiting, I looked after her for a few hours. We played together. She showed me what to press on her toys, pressing my hand to push.

Her parents went out. She wasn’t crying, though very quiet and sad. Then she fell asleep in my arms.

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