Category Archives: Random Stories

set in a time earlier than the main story

19.feb.2016

Trip la Timisoara. Costumul de psihonaut pregatit: ochelari de soare. Sunt tot felul de locuri pe langa mine ca sa tin chestii in proximitatea mainii cu fiecare prioritate in minte. Muzica schimba totul in functie de ce privesc. Imi e greu sa aleg un numitor comun la ce zic, dar am incredere ca daca continui sa scriu o sa-l gasesc.

Ma gandesc acum ca noi ca si puncte de vedere ale universului sub diversele manifestari incercam doar sa ne spunem te iubesc prin tot ce facem, fie ca le codam sub forma de metafore menite sa aibe indicii catre iubire, fie sub forma de metafore menite sa ascunda asta.

Cand privesc in ochii unei persoane sunt egoless.

Cu cat ajungi mai sus in societate cu atat depui mai putina energie in lucrurile pe care le discutam, le facem cu pasiune, spontane, creative, autentice si cautand starea de bine. Cu cat depui mai multa energie pentru spiritualitate cu atat ramai mai jos in societate. Pana la un punct cand poti exploda in termeni de manifestari si exprimari.

Credeam ca daca nu pot bloca gandurile de inceput de scris in timp ce merg intr-o cafenea ca sa scriu, o sa pierd inceputul perfect. Dar ce sa vezi. Desi am consumat cateva idei, scena din Wien Cafe se asterne mandra si timida, incepand cu prezenta lui Markovici (tot in Wien Cafe ca atunci cand am plecat in Trip, a continuat cu locul perfect de stat de unde pot privi intreaga scena 180 de grade, finalizand cu ceea ce pare Vama Veche, dar acum imi dau seama ca e altceva. Nu aud versurile de energia fiintelor din incapere, dar simt foarte clar ce transmit. Devin intreg in acest mediu stimulant. Si nu sunt oamenii, oare, ca muzica? Si nu sunt, oare, versurile cele mai neimportante? Muzelor! Oricum, de fapt, e despre mine ce se intampla in jur. Sunt doar oglinzi, dar aici oglinzile se spala, reflecta doar lumina. De asta ma vad mai aproape de ceea ce sunt. Imi spal oglinda. Ador cand oamenii isi prezinta potentialul in fata mea, in oglinda mea, de care am grija si o curat.

Oamenii din fata discuta afaceri, investitii, feedback, proceduri; cei din dreapta sunt ceea ce par un cuplu adult. Ambii citesc carti, ce frumos; de fapt el ziarul, si doar el fumeaza. Da, inca se fumeaza in localuri acum. Cei din fata vorbesc de vinuri mai exact. Cei din colt, stanga, departe sunt trei batrani si mi-e greu sa aud ce discuta, iar cei din stanga aproape, doi tineri povestesc in nestire despre nimicuri totale si subiectiv semnificative. El vorbeste mai mult decat ea. Atipic. Poate e entuziasmat. Iar eu… eu scriu in mijlocul lor. Dar ce se intampla sub si deasupra acestori versuri e supa primordiala, e apocalipsa, e intregirea si implinirea, poate a mai multor universuri, de fapt cu siguranta a tuturor oglinzilor de aici. „Fiecare om are misiunea lui” – a spus cel din discutia afaceri-vinuri.

Ieri noapte iar s-a invitat in universul meu un eveniment plin de invataturi. Clean slate, again, haos, tabula rasa, detoxifiere, transformare, the next thing, spalarea oglinzii, restructurare, renuntare la sine, capatarea punctului de vedere spate-sus. Oglinda din fata mea era ceva ce n-am mai vazut pana acum, ceva nou, imprevizibil, indefinibil, riscant si magnetic poate. Un eveniment ce am preferat sa nu-l povestesc primei persoane pe care o vad, pentru ca experienta este cea care conteaza, cea care isi poate fi deajuns, si relatarea ei merita macar o internalizare mai migaloasa. Bruce Springsteen – Human Touch. Vreau sa vorbesc cu oamenii astia! Vreau sa vorbesc cu toti! Dar sa le ascult muzica si sa ii las pe ei sa-si asculte versurile.


“I don’t sing because I’m happy. I’m happy because I sing” – William James

“I think music in itself is healing. It’s an explosive expression of humanity. It’s something we are all touched by. No matter what culture we’re from” – Billy Joel

“One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain” – Bob Marley

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Flashback

Incerc sa oglindesc. Si faptul ca am observat un pattern si l-am comunicat, oprindu-ma acolo, e o oglindire. Faptul ca te ascult si aleg sa simt ce simti tu e o oglindire. E o vulnerabilitate ce se lasa traita. Vreau sa o fac. Asta e unul din rolurile mele din punctul meu de vedere. Din al tau poate fi altul. Dar eu tot fac ce simt, si amandoi suntem unul pentru celalalt rolul de care avem nevoie. Vrei sa il descrii?

Tot ce stiu e ca imi place conexiunea asta foarte mult. Tot incercam sa scriu diverse dar asta e tot ce a putut sa iasa. Care e rolul tau pentru mine? Am tot ales sa nu il stiu, simt ca i-as lua cumva din magie. Prefer sa il astept pana cand e evident; ma face sa traiesc mai intens, si acum, si atunci. Foarte des cand te vad devii tot felul de metafore. In timp ce ma gandeam ca imi vei cere vreun exemplu mi-am dat seama exact ce vreau sa zic prin asta. Spre exemplu, parul tau uneori devine tot ceea ce esti tu si tot ceea ce simt eu in acel moment devine plin de semnificatie si pot simti tot.

Am avut o zi incredibila azi, intensa, cu misiuni multe, si high si low, si nervi si buna dispozitie, certat, discutat problema cu totul in cel mai fain mod posibil, stabilit chestii pe termen lung. Carusel, nu altceva. Pai imi e greu sa reproduc exact ce s-a intamplat. Prefer sa imi dozez cat mai multa energie in prezent, ca sa nu las sa se adune, sa traiesc tot in acum. Cumva simt ca ma face sa ma conectez la mine. Faptul ca nu mai simt nevoia sa povestesc fiecare amanunt al vietii mele, desi mi-ar placea sa pot fi transparent, sa pot fi vazut complet, pare a fi o consecinta directa a faptului ca traiesc totul asa cum vine, si pare ca face parte din progresul pe care il fac in cel mai recent proiect al meu; de a ma iubi pe mine, neegoist, nenarcisist; pe care l-am inceput vara asta si am stabilit ca il las sa ma duca unde vrea el, planul. De asta sunt surprins de locurile in care ajung. Dar cred ca e si un mod in care poti ajunge acolo, probabil din mai multe. Mai consider si ca asa pot ajuta mai multi oameni care au nevoia de a se conecta cu altii, si de a exprima ce traiesc astfel incat sa devina realitate si sa o poata accepta. Imi place sa cred ca imi dezvolt abilitatea de a ma accepta doar conectandu-ma la mine si imi ofera oportunitatea de a imi doza mai multa energie in a ii accepta pe altii, iarasi, oglindindu-le aceasta posibilitate. Vezi? Si in plus aleg sa nu povestesc pentru ca lucrurile pe care le tot insir aici mi se par mai relevante decat evenimentele specifice. Mai de graba discutam direct invataturile care le da sens. Si oricum ajung in mod natural la lucrurile astea. Sincer, nici nu imi amintesc cand am schimbat povestea de la ziua mea, lucru pe care l-am spus oricum ca aperitiv de discutie, si am ajuns la a descrie ce mi se pare ca se intampla, facand pur si simplu asocieri libere, zburdand pe campii de semnificatie.

Ma gandeam ca Aia e ciudat: intrebarea „cum suntem?”.  Suntem niste oameni, asa ne zicem noi intr-o anumita limba din civilizatia noastra, dar despre asta poate altadata. Suntem niste oameni ce ne trezim aruncati intr-o chestie pe care oricum n-o intelegem, si avem asteptarea de a ni se spune cum suntem; fundamentali rai, fundamental buni, fiinte iubitoare, roboti fara liber arbitru, destinati autodistrugerii, exploratori. Si apoi vine in discutie „dar nu suntem liberi? Cum sa existe o lume in care te nasti si ti se spune cum esti, fara sa poti alege tu!”. Si apoi insusi faptul ca ne intrebam asta e ciudat. Nu avem liber arbitru. Nici animalele nu au, dar poate sunt intrebari ca sa ne tina in viata, nu altceva. Nedemonstrabil. Momentan ramane o chestie de alegere de perspectiva, sau de iluzia ei. Nu vrem cu adevarat raspunsuri. Da, sunt de acord. It’s all about the better question. Oricum toate raspunsurile vin cand murim. Toate raspunsurile sunt deja aici.


What is a story?

I am not the only traveler
Who has not repaid his debt
I’ve been searching for a trail to follow again
Take me back to the night we met

i. Reality is a scene

I live on top of a bar. Recently a cat has started to bring me tomorrows newspaper, today. I don’t wanna jinx it, but it does feel like the right thing. The whole thing. I mean, I do like this, well, this low life job. I do enjoy it, driving a lollop and all. Saving the world. Manifesting the mind of a machine that demands productivity and believes it strips you of yourself because it doesn’t understand you, but I feel it only fuels and focuses my creativity, distributing “the word”. I do work in distribution. First of all, there’s no mental stress, especially after work, just physical stress. Doesn’t mean I don’t dislike it. At the same time I’m a bit fearful of writing about the unpleasant experiences and thoughts, what if I help their realness? Ok, let’s shed some perspective, right? Perspective makes life interesting because it changes reality. It’s one day before the pit stop. Two days time, two weeks will have passed. Why two weeks? Because!

I keep myself on the edge as much as I can, familiarity can only be slow down. I already find it easier to get by than I did back home. I’m eager for future adventures, but I don’t want to restart levels. I have my patience with me, but, oh, the road is long. I really feel the world is mine for the taking. The world is my home. Like, for real, cause we mentioned perspective, I’m here 23 days now, and I feel my life so rich in experience compared to the periods when I don’t do a thing! A year can pass in depression and you feel it like a single moment, empty, whereas, going through this shift in perspective makes me experience fullness. I guess foolishness is part of it. I just want to remind myself to enjoy every step of the way. To not fall into the trap that, the point that I created is the only vessel of happiness. Happiness is the vessel in which things get lost. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I love you all so much that I’m letting you all go, every moment. I’m letting go of the whole world. I remember that no matter what you decide, the way you actually do it is in a mindful manner. I renounce the universe.

It’s easier to not want things if they would just happen. He he, good one, right? Ok, so I and the pit stop collided yesterday. Today I meet my latest goal. Funny, I feel empty. Not just empty, but empty nonetheless. I wonder why. Maybe it’s a side effect to focus being turned up. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some beautiful experiences lately. Maybe “having” them made me want more. I just wanna surrender. You know how that is like, right? And I surrender. I miss forests and nature and rivers and oceans and worlds. We survive only on one tree for now, here. Don’t worry about direction and navigation; I’m taking care of it. I did do better this week around. Well, why am I complaining? It’s full of challenges. Loving every minute cause you make me feel so alive. It’s better be worth it, that’s all I ask for.

Stau si ma intreb cine sunt. Sunt pozele si conversatiile de pe facebook, sunt semnificatiile ce i le dau? Sunt lucrurile  pe care le vreau? Sunt eu cand sunt singur? Sunt toate persoanele din jurul meu? Simt ca m-am saturat sa stau in garda. Vreau sa iert. Toate lucrurile astea ma fac doar sa fiu gol. O sa vina un moment in care voi avea nevoie de ajutorul fiecaruia dintre voi. I’m tired of holding grudges on people. I need to let myself trust. But it’s so damn hard. I feel so lonely. Life is like carrying a message from the child you were to the old man you will be. You have to make sure that this message isn’t lost along the way. And that’s when my quest for identity deepened. I wanna grow roots all the way to the center of the earth and fly with it all. Well, we’re all doing the flying bit, cause, well, the earth is doing it. I guess, if any problem really exists, this is one that I’ve always had. Call it root chakra or whatever you wanna call it, the “al cui esti?”. I was always able to fly, no problem, but I was never grounded. Maybe that’s why I’m so easily home to an alien. Maybe that’s why I don’t wanna be part of any club that would have me as a member. Maybe I’m the alien of this world just as the alien in me is of I. Maybe everyone is. I do love to write, the whole experience of it. The fact that it dissolves and stops time. It makes it flow. It’s ok to want to hold it all. Who wouldn’t want, really?

ii. and life is a stage

azi am meditat in timp ce mergeam pe strada, aveam ganduri si o stare din aia gen normala. au ajuns gandurile la gandul “hmm, uite starea asta. dar oare cum ma simt acum?” zic “ma simt” si am intrat imediat in starea de meditatie. dar trebuia sa schimb ce privesc destul de frecvent gen, ca sa raman mindful, si ma simteam… ce vedeam, fie ca erau frunze, cladiri, dar nu eru frunze cladiri, erau ce erau, asa cum e cand nu vorbesti in cap. mai fac din astea.. Ma gandeam la “iluminarea” mea sau ce-o fost, imi amintesc senzatia aia ca nu stiam nimic inainte si acum, uite, in ce moduri e de fapt construita realitatea asta. iar acum e ca si cum stiu si nu ma mai impresioneaza, daca stii ce zic. nu e neaparat un lucru rau, si probabil e, ca de obicei, vorba despre momentul ala exact in care se intampla, de insight, orgasm spiritual. stii, ma gandeam azi ce vreau sa fac si imi dadeam seama ca nu stiu ce vreau sa fac, dar nu o vedeam ca un lucru rau neaparat, doar o vedeam. bine, apoi mi-am raspuns ce vreau sa fac, ca totusi e usor sa primesti un raspuns cand intrebi, dar tot imi dadeam seama ca ce vreau de la lucrurile care imi treceau prin minte este experienta din ele, sa ma faca sa uit de timp pentru ca devin timpul. poti spune ca devin un eveniment sau o serie de evenimente. dar nici nu exista iluminare. Dacă ai putea fi orice, ce ai fi? Let’s invent a thing inventor said the thing inventor being invented by a thing inventor. cred ca as fi exact ce probabil sunt. as fi un tot intreg si parte cu parte. tu?

All your life is made of I will do this, or maybe not, or maybe I will, or I won’t, or I will do this and you do it or not. But what we’re after still remains the experience of doing something and then realizing that we were just a watcher to what we were doing, getting a strange kind of feeling and kind of a proud reflex, that you are completely able to do stuff without you watching over you. But what am I looking for? And why am I asking? And still, I’m not that impressed of this paradox, like I used to get some time in the past.

Strange how strong the instinct is to see something incredible and reach for a camera as if to lend it some credibility, to prove that it’s real, that I was here. We live our lives in moments, in those rare experiences we stop to notice and carry with us, in the hope of stringing them together trying to tell a story. But even in the moment you can feel it start to fade. So you try to capture it, and convert it into something that will last longer than just a flash. And over time a photo feels more real than its subject. It lets you build a version of the world that you can take with you. A world flattened and simple. A world that doesn’t change. That fits in the frame. A little brighter and more colorful. With everything under control. You can travel the world looking for memories and still find yourself standing behind a camera waiting for the world to hold still. With every click of the shutter you try to press pause on your life, if only so you can feel a little more comfortable moving on, living in a world stuck on play. A part of you knows that you can’t take it with you, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. What if I can stay just a little longer, what if we didn’t have to go. We try to capture moments as if we’re afraid they’ll escape. But they will get away eventually. Take one last look, one more shot, so years from now you can flip back through, and try to relive it all over again. But maybe even then you’ll be thinking to yourself, oh well, I guess you had to be there.


In my art, I attempt to explain life and its meaning to myself

All you have to figure out is what they need that your talent can provide. Look, I’ll give you a bigger clue. In a way it’s all about how much you can sacrifice in order to buy yourself enough time to get to do what you love and forget about time just enough that you worked on a thing you didn’t know you worked on and it has become something they reward.

money is just like a religion, too. and it’s a bad kind, as well, as it gives happiness or/and freedom just to some and to some not. we need that which gives it to everyone.

when you read in a mindful state, really feeling each word for itself I feel like one can access the incorporated signification of the whole imagine

ne exprimam ca sa ne gasim

even though she wasn’t there, except in his mind. She was dead, but what did that matter? How different is that from any relationship? How much do we project onto our mates? And why the hell do we need so much anyways? Is happiness in a sense all just a creation of the mind? What a crazy and powerful thing is to give yourself to someone. To see yourself whole and to simply offer everything, completely trusting that they won’t drop and break you. Not even crossing your mind.


A game of reflections and wonder

I wonder what this adventure brings. It’s a nice one. I missed a nice one. And not only is it nice, but it’s also a great one.

Merg la Cluj.

Oh wow. It brought love. What a surprise. What do I do with this love thing? How can someone love me back like I love them? And how do I still love her when she loves me back like that? How can we make our avatars love each other? And is it a good idea to follow this love, or any? How do I stay focused when in love? Should I forget her? Is true love possible? Would sex be good? Would it ruin it? Will she forget me? Should she? Am I over and wrongly enthusiastic? Is it wrong to want her to fool me and hurt me, just to, at least, feed on a fantasy? Should I trust my dopamine thoughts?

One thing is for sure. Yet another adventure is right around the corner.

Merg in Anglia.

Foresight Being, I want to tell you that money is coming, the beautiful souls came and we get to travel some more soon. Gotta give it to you, boring it ain’t. I really want the illusion of the impossible, the promise of pure, endless love. …all the ways we struggle to get out of our illusions are illusions themselves, after all. As long as there’s no doubt, I don’t even care if it’s true. Nonsense. Dopamine thoughts again. “Lose yourself, find yourself”. Close and closer, but not quite there, haven’t found myself yet. Gotta stay focused. Gotta follow my name even thou I don’t know it. Gotta keep the faith. Gotta nurture the spark of desire within. Back to the love thing, all I really want is we both go through the same thing. One thing is to go through pain alone, unbearable as it may be, but through love, to go at it alone…now that’s just sad. What needs to happen? What good in trying to figure out what needs to happen? Nonsense, anyway. What do you mean “needs to happen”?. Today she said something about friendship. I find myself in a Conundrum. If I ask her about this I strip off any magic from the box. If I don’t, I risk overthinking it or stripping myself off any energy in the box. Seems like I’m Schrodinger’s cat, and there’s a world out there where love is and isn’t at the same time, and me and her feel the same way and not at the same time. Still so many questions inside the Conundrum. Still my life sucks inside the Struggle. And still I’m a junky for love.

Can’t wait to get out of Sibiu. This island of smoky mirrors. I feel so fundamental here. I wanna be basic. I’m fundamentally fear and love at the same time. I wanna be one thing. A ride. For me and her. The clearer this reality becomes, the closer to the Sun I am, the harder it burns. I guess I’m not as strong as I like to believe. I guess I still struggle letting go. How could I accept the experience of her as a one time thing? How could, and why would anything ask of me to forget her. What good in loving deeply if loving deeply is letting her go? I even feel guilty and like a fool loving you. I keep wondering what will we more likely remember. What we said or what we didn’t say. What we wrote or what we chose not to. Words or non words.

Keep wanting to record the fact that I find myself in Wien Café yet again before I start my next adventure. What I want is keep talking to her and do my work good. After all, the Universe doesn’t like spoilers. So it has to forget in order to either remember or experience, which are actually the same. So just relax. Go on and on. Learn to ride a bike. Learn to swim. Be careless and careful. Follow lord fortune wherever he leads and petition your demons to tend to your needs. Go crazy, go wild, get wasted, get wise, wake up from your nightmares and stop believing their lies. Get active, get radical, get real and get magical. Aspire to the heights and embrace all your lows, give into desire, let the flood of lust flow. So let go, and let rip, take a ride, take a trip, get to work, get to bed, get a life, get a grip. Take leave of your senses, your cunning pretenses, pick up your beds and tear down your defenses, and retrace the course of the spring to its source.

***

A game of reflections

Who are you when you watch the awareness? What is the story? What is your role? Or is it part of the big secret? Oh, the big secret, from the holy, collective Spacebook. This is it, I say. Put on a good show for the dreamers out there. We always seem to want to write when we don’t feel like writing. I wonder what it feels like to want to not write when we feel like writing. Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, it has begun. The game is now called integrate everything! But what’s this whole secret fuss? Well, one thing they don’t tell you is how it never gets boring. All the time looking for the one story. How many decisions are being made in one moment? One. What does the absence of feedback bring? But relax, the big secret is unknowable. Or I’m just saying this to make you read in a non-belief mind set. How do you know I’m not manipulating you? Why do people report their life flashing before their eyes during a near death experience? One does not simply walk into death without integrating everything. And I can prove it. So relax! But stop for a bit. To enter this game you have to walk through the fundamental idea that every opposite  coexists all the time and in regards to anything and everything all at once. You have to forget everything you’ve known or thought you knew. It starts now. Good. I don’t want to blow your mind, but now you have to know the great answer and not speak a word of it, the big secret. How does it feel? Just stop for a bit! Life your head up and stare at whatever there is in front of you. Do this till you forget you were reading and you remember it back. Ok, do it now! What did you think about? What did you see? How long did you stare? Did you have an awareness of time while you were forgetting and experiencing at the same time? Time. Well, this is just juvenile of a toy in the game. By the way, do you remember when you decided to join the game?

***

To be honest, I don’t know where this love thing leads to. I mean, how long can I feel it? Am I trying to control it? What good in feeling this when it’s clear is gonna end? I know there’s no end and no means, even thou there’s meaning, there’s no conclusion to this Universe. It’s an endless book.

Another thing, I know for a fact she’s crazy. Her avatar I mean. And I feel like I don’t have an avatar anymore. It’s like I forgot how to be myself. I used to be charming and sexy, I used to act like I’m the shit. Where did I lose this? The days in this feeling are endless and full. Nothing incomplete about these days. And even thou there’s also desperation and light inside the storm of everyday, I happen to be inside the inside of the storm, making there be balance and ritm at the same time in the silence of the storm. I’m afraid to love you fully, I’m scared of it being enough and endful. I know it’s shawl, but I wish she finds me sexy. I know I find her sexy. And it’s so irrational. I’m not even gonna see her for a long time. Maybe I should forget her. If she’s worth it, I will remember her at the right time. What is really worth it in this experience we call life? Am I crazy, I wonder. I ride this wave right now, and I’m hungry, and I feed on the wind, and it feels right, but what shore will I end up on? Will she be there? What will be there? And will it be worth it? As I surf through the Great Conundrum, my Consciousness is suspended by the silence of love. I don’t budge.

***

Now the game is called “who’s gonna blink first?”. But my question is what happens if neither ever blink? Well, who cares, I need this moment of silence. I feel how I struggle not to forget her every time I’m under the impression this is the moment I forget her. Requires a lot of faith. In this crazy experiment of mine, I seem to be ending up in this state where I hunt down the last thought about her and I snooze it every time. It’s so dusty on the edge of the sphere. All the forgotten are here. I see her, she begins the same way. Her right star excites me and beautifully worries me at the same time. She creates me and I create her. We don’t blink. I do remember everything about you.  Now I have this crazy idea to keep writing and not speak a word of it. And I wonder a lot of stuff. I wonder if I made your reality magic, too. And you are completely forgotten. I wonder if I am completely forgotten, too. I take the first breath. She knows.

***

Sky high.

I will soon be sky high again. Above the clouds. Part of the big canvas. It’s funny, I kinda feel depressed. The funny part is I think I need to be, I feel I have to be sad and down for a while. Feels strange. I micro-dose death and I supra-dose love. Can’t help it. You may argue it’s unhealthy, but they are the ingredients of life. Actually I think all’s gonna be alright. I will enjoy every step of the way, every challenge and every reward. Mindfulness with timing, also known as syncronicity, is the way to go. I gotta say, I’ve come to embrace my deaths like never before, or is it that I played my cards right so far. Everything’s gonna be ok because I’m awesome. I’m letting go and I’m ready for anything at the moment when anything shows itself. I trust I always remember my mantra in the moment of action. I’ve seen myself, I’m very capable. Ok, sevraj time. Today we go sevraj. It’s gonna be a long day maybe, or not, hard, or not. I will stay staring into nothingness for hours if I have to. I don’t have permission to feel guilty or unproductive. This is sevraj day. So, in the summer of 2017, the month of June, I experienced both love and isolation. I enjoyed both. Now I find myself at the other end of it. I let go of all control and I embrace my whole self, with my controlling tendencies, too. It’s sevraj day and I’m hungry. I’m on holyday. No time for regrets. Half the fun is learning and I’m having a ball. While the world keeps turning, my role is small but I make a change. I hope you feelin’ the same way. In this concrete jungle we live our survival is love that we give, now my instincts are guiding my way, it’s true what they say, the world is your chance to create.


Calatoria prin timp nonlinear

Sa presupunem ca totul e acelasi lucru, iar existenta e un mister pentru ea insasi. Dar vezi, pana si chestia asta pe care ea si-o scrie siesi e nula, inecesara, si nu ar trebui sa existe, chiar daca, si tocmai pentru ca, exprima faptul ca expresia nu e necesara.

Recunoasterea. Now that’s something. The sense, and the drive to name the unnamed. Mamihlapinatapai. The paradox of the name not naming itself holds the perception of time in a linear sense. Inbetween rests the rest.
Will. To want, or the feeling of want. And you usually want to hold things still so that you experience everything through any given point of building. But you see? There lays the trick. In wanting to transcend there can be no transformation. After all, you’re standing still. Transformation requires dynamic, requires death and birth and death and birth. So then comes the question. Can you trick the universe to transcend imortality into imortality?
Nonlinear perception of the time. Paradoxes.
Sa presupunem ca exista un inceput si un sfarsit. La inceput avem doua personaje, energie masculina si energie feminina. Mai avem un copac cu viata si adevar. Sugar, spice and everything nice. They both know and they both know they know. They both feel there’s nothing to be known.
Then we have the history of the universe. During which this unnamed struggles with wanting to name itself, swimming like a dolphin in and out of the ocean it creates along the way, deep down and cosmos high.
We still have the same two characters in our story, only they are spread in the vast unnamed, playing all scenarios, the whole infinite of them.
Before we get to the end, let’s look at another story.
The attempt to trick the universe.
In one of the male’s energy manifestations it figures it out. But as he has the revelation, being on the “know and want” field, he also “knows” that he can’t use it, as naming the unnamed would end existance. The revelations continue and, paying in huge amounts of energy, he figures out a way to stop time, to hold it all, from start till end, to walk on the nonpath of nonlinear time.
Earlier before he had recognised her. They saw and were seeing each other in the middle of now here. So, in its ignorance, ambition, and want of control, he decided like a child to try out this paradox on… well, by now you’ve figured out, it was on itself, him and her being it and all. So he returned to Utopia, and hid something from her. Just one thing, the one thing, the rest was all to feel. He then told her with the energy of a child what he had done, but you could see the mad scientist face as well. Telling her was part of the plan. He had just ask her out on a date at the end of time, even thou, not only would they meet there anyway, but they are already there. Now, all he needed was a hidden thing, the one thing, by her. Well, the story goes she never did, because maybe she didn’t even understand, or that she understood clearly.
The dynamic of death and birth, in the ocean and out to the stars was doing its thing. The history of the universe continued as it always does. Their manifesting paths grew separate, and the undefinied space between them was absorbing the life out of him, through his controlling definition of the undefined. He was indeed living the nonlinear time field, but he was killing and dying in the process, instead of his plan of life eternal, which he already had through being it. He was going crazy in the act of projecting his story onto the history of the universe.
He was spared of the burden when he went back to her and showed what he had hid from her.
Sa presupunem ca totul e acelasi lucru, iar existenta e un mister pentru ea insasi. And when all scenarios are over, meaning all the time, they meet on the Planet with the garden of the one and only tree, seeing each other as the one remaining truth that needs no naming.

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Legenda Oaiandei

Cap. 1. Panda

La inceput era nimic. Pentru ca ce urma sa se nasca stia cat de important era sa astepti cateva momente la inceputul oricarui inceput…sa observi un pic situatia, mai ales ca era dubios sa fie nimic.
– Dar sa incepem cu sfarsitul. Mereu incepem cu sfarsitul si incepem idei vechi din idei noi. Poate ceva neinceput sa aiba un sfarsit? Oricum e doar haos observat de o constiinta si interpretat, legat, concluzionat, modificat; si oricum e nimic, doar constiinta ce creaza ceva-ul <> ambele in acelasi timp si niciuna…

Mamihlapinatapai cosmic – atunci cand universul se dedubleaza dorind acelasi lucru, dar nici o parte din cele doua nu vrea sa fie prima care initiaza.
Dar bine…asta e doar ideea unui copac batran pe nume Royskopp care canta despre formă ca un monument antic plin de energie transformata din timp si sculptata de evenimentele din cele infinite dimensiuni; si despre momentul in care totul a fost facut din dragoste si inca mai trimite semnale prin frecvente jucause si va trimite vesnic, pana la urmatorul inceput sau sfarsit..intelegeti voi..sau alegeti.
La auzul ultimelor cuvinte ale batranului Royskopp zis si Jubokko, zis si Yggdrasil, si multe altele, a venit momentul nasterii din nimic catre nimic a unui panda autist, cu o singura intrebare in minte si in suflet “De ce am fost creat?”
Era: Iarna Marilor Cete. Totul era un far, far, far Away. Mergea catre nimic in timp ce totul se crea in jurul lui, avand ca ghid doar Luna Geagea, ce ii lumineaza calea, din Conlunatia Coma White.
Poposise pe la mijlocul nimicului chiar in punctul in care oriunde privesti vezi doar nimic, sa se odihneasca si sa cugete. De plictiseala s-a lasat sa creeze fara sa mai fie atent, si doar se juca Go inconstient si liber de nevoia distrugerii, cand un sarpe cu doua capete jucause ii iese in cale. Erau Shakali si Aghori si aveau cam 30 m lungime. Aghori avea 33, a facut mai mult sport in tinerete. Asta l-a facut increzator si de-asta el era cel care vorbea,, iar Shakali doar asculta, mereu.
Shakali era rosu, Aghori albastru.
– Imi povestea cineva ca a dormit o data pe o bancă-popas afara si cand s-a trezit, s-a dus sa-si ia o cafea si s-a intors pe aceeasi banca sa si-o bea ca de dimineata. Cred ca facem asta mai des decat observam. Cred ca e vorba de acelasi sentiment, de acelasi atasament de “acasa” unde “lucrurile noastre sunt”, unde cunoastem, unde ne simtim confortabil, unde ne place sa fim si atat, unde ne recapatam energia, sau deschiderea catre ea lucrand prin dimensiunile cognitiv, emotional, spiritual. Asta e ideea aceluiasi copac cand nu-i atent la ce se gandeste si trunchiul lui creaza foi ce se scriu singure si se trimit una pe cealalta prin posta rosu-albastrie, schimband frecventa semnalului, dar pastrand esenta, reamintind ca a sti si a se astepta sunt diferite, iar limbajul, comunicarea, conexiunea devin materiale fundamentale in crearea monumentelor antice.
Ii povestea Aghori lui Shakali fara sa arate vreun semn cum ca Panda Autist ar exista. Dupa ce ramase blocat pe “acelasi copac” o vreme, Panda cel mic se gandea “si daca as pune in cuvinte, in pasi, in etape, in descrieri, in explicatii, in terminologii universalul – presupunand ca il identific – nu as lua magia din el oare? Poate in mod paradoxal e preferabil sa evidentiez faptul ca toti avem perceptia proprie si unica asupra universalului, si asa e si fain sa fie. Toti? Dar care toti? La ce bun sa existe toti? De ce sa fie creati altii?”
In marea de piese negre din Go, Panda plasase piesele albe la intamplare in tot acest timp; in mijlocul nimicului; scria: “When you are born in a world you don’t fit in, it’s because you were born to help create a new one.” Panda was like wtf si s-a trezit intr-un vis.
Era: Inceputul Sfarsitului. Lordul Haribo Tequila Ț Smokey Frederic Tomas the Fifth organizeaza ultima petrecere a existentei.
Panda, nevenindu-i sa creada, inchise ochii repetand in minte “Lumineaza-mi calea Geagea pana o gasesc, lumineaza-mi calea Geagea pana o-ntalnesc!”

Cap. 2. Panda visits the 7th dimension, The land of Alexandria, where all books are called Alex and they write each other into existence. Panda starts reading the Gatekeeper Book.
“It’s amazing how beings step into your life and how they change you. How they remind you and you remind them that sometimes all we need to do is show each other we’re there. We’re all one; all Alex; all Pandra; all metaphors for each other. I’m not something else. I’m a different choice of you. I’m you with a left turn at one point. I’m what could have been if. We’re mirrors for each other, and that mirror shows itself as magical when you see yourself in me (you being anyone and me being anyone and anyone being anyone). Come be with us, let us write you. Take a pen. Join the wave of words. Be!

“I once chose to be nothing” said Panda “from a list of things i wanted to be. Now I choose to be a traveler. Why do i choose to be a traveler? Because it means so much. I get to choose all kinds of spaces to travel, and by looking through this window, or mirror, I get to be all the things on the list all together in one beautiful thing, which becomes actually less thing like and more being like. Maybe i will get to some higher definition, but this is the best definition of myself yet. And it’s only a definition to be able to paint a picture for the other non-definitions that are so not thing like and so forevermore more being like. Traveling is so much trippier than drugs, than movies, than childhood (well, maybe equal to it), it opens you up to so many possibilities. Well..having had drugs before the actual trip helps a lot, as it makes you aware of the things you want and are able to pay attention to…or, you know, beings, not things. I want everybody to feel that their story is the most awesome story there is. I know how that feels, I feel it everyday. That doesn’t mean I am not aware, and objective (objective as your world perceives that concept), and rational thinking. And all these metaphors! Everything is a metaphor; everyday, every now. This change in perception not only made the past 2 billion years or so an engine for metaphors, but transformed everything that happened before in metaphors.”

I wanna faaaade into you

O simpla Marti in dimineata orei 8 in care ma vad incapabil sa raspund la intrebarea ei “de obicei la cat te trezesti?”. Dar asta e cel mai irelevant lucru. Povestea este despre cum cei doi s-au lasat sa se iubeasca pe celalalt “Everybody seems so far away from here/Everybody just wants to be free” – fara asteptari, fara nimic, in afara timpului, asa cum le place.

– Inca o poveste? Gizas! Da’ cate mai vrei? Pai? Bine! Am ales sa nu ascult muzica acum. Nu ca e vorba de vreo nevoie de liniste ca urmare a stresului; sunt chiar relaxat. Relaxeaza-te si tu! Nu e o poveste trista sau violenta, sau nu stiu. Nu te lua dupa mine! Inca nu stiu ce vreau sa scriu. Vreau sa scriu despre ce fac acum. Si asta fac. Scriu acum despre cum scriu acum. Mai acum de-atat nu se poate.
– A spus cineva “acum”?
– Cand? Nu ma mai intrerupe, imi pierd ideea si nu mai sunt atent la ce gandesc. Dar stai un pic! Cum se face ca tu auzi ce scriu?
– Sunt o ha..
– Hei! Ce-am discutat de intreruperi? Tu asculta ce scriu! Hmm… ma-ntreb daca iti trimit o scrisoare e ca un voicemail pentru tine…

– Nu trebuie sa raspunzi. Zici ca m-asculti cu capu-n jos. Iti sugerez ceva: ………………………apreciez atat de mult oamenii din jurul meu atunci cand ma iubesc, fara sa stie ca fac asta, si asta ma face sa fiu distrat ce alege sa se lase sa fie distrat. It’s a heart thing. It wasn’t a nothing thing……………………………………..pai cat timp n-ai fost atent la mine, eu nu m-am intamplat.

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Oh the irony… sau un pattern de stare colectivă

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Sunt o timidă poezie, Diana. Și totuși îmi place să cânt, dar îmi place și să desenez și să culeg flori, și să ascult flori, și să ajung acolo… Pot să fac ce vreau. Dar vreau să fac ce pot? Știu că sunt multe păsări călătoare care mă dezgustă, dar le fac să-mi dispară. Din memorie, de obicei mă doare. Mă doare când îl aud pe Raoul cântând rap. Frumos. Și îi iubesc pe restul cu lacrimi.

Șosetele lui Alex au inimioare negre și a lui e roșie. Ce te legeni, mă? Ce mă legeni, mă? Pentru că suntem obsedați de ordine în timp ce suntem compulsivi de haos. Și din cauza asta o să plec puținș mă duc până acolo și stau fix până când mă întorc. Înțelegi?

Da, înțeleg tot ce ai zis, deși încerc să-mi dau tripuri pe care nu știu dacă, nici măcar eu, le înțeleg. Acum… tu mă înțelegi? Oare poți să mă oprești din căzătura-i mortală?

Nu o să mă scol niciodată. Doar dacă o să adorm mă pot scula la ce vreau eu. Care e scula ta preferată?

Aia care face ce vreau eu și când vreau eu! Și nu obosește niciodată. Aparat care nu se termină toată viața. Dar a ta?

A mea e puțin ciopârțită și mai curge viață câteodată, însă o prețuiesc așa cum e ea. Însă cu al meu e mai greu o măsură. Al tău ce zice?

Al meu n-are ființă. Este un obiect mare și n-are sentimente. Dar nici nu-i trebuie. Oricum, nici nu știu dacă te ajută la ceva. Dar pot să aleg să te fac să vezi modul în care te ajută.

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            De ce cauți acolo unde nu poți găsi, pașii ce se ascund timizi printre copii? Așa mă ascund și eu printre tine. Așa îmi ascund zâmbetul printre al tău. Te înnebunește și mai tare când e printre lumina lumânării. Și beculețele. Mi-ai făcut inima beculețe. Chapter 1.1. Am trecut și de asta! Înțelesesem câte beculețe de culori diferite are o inimă. Mai ales inima mea. Vreau să plâng! Dar nu pot să plâng pentru că nu sunt trist.

O să vreau și eu, dar nu azi. Într-o zi cu clovni și orbi când soarele e într-o cameră. De zi, de noapte, de interminabile discursuri ce se scurg și plâng, și urlă către fantomele viitorului crud. Pentru că ești orb, că ești clovnul de circ, ce se ascunde sub măști. Ce ar fi să îți pui masca de singurătate pentru că singur e atributul care o să ți se însușească? Dacă tu nu o să îți vinzi iubirea? Și dacă ar fi așa, cu cât o dai? Eu în locul tău n-aș da-o. Gândește-te cât ai suferi după ea. Pe mine mă întrebai cu cât o dau? Nu mai întreba dacă n-ai suflet! E modul prin care ajungi să vezi cum poți să n-ai suflet. Și pe cărarea aia acolo vei ajunge. Unde corăbii cad din copacii plouați de furtunăș din furtuna pe care alergam împreună.

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            O mare furioasă albastră. O mare furioasă dorință, se apropie de noi cu putință. Ne lasă doar valuri de nori. Ne învăluie în lăsări de primăveri. Până în prima primăvară în care am văzut. Și am văzut exact cum îmi descrisesem. Nimeni nu m-a crezut… Dar eu văzusem tot. Văzusem mort, văzusem treaz cum cărările se întrepătrund. În fund. Acolo erau. Și erau multe. Nu se temeau de nimic. Nici de muzică, nici de sunet, doar că era așa bine. Și e bine că era așa bine. Și noi eram la fel de bine și atunci când totul vibra și nu exista pe acea pășune pitorească. E frumos de fapt. Exact. E de bine. Se întâmplă ceva extraordinar. Normal, totul normal. Mulțumesc!

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            Când aripa zgribulită a unei libelule aurii a fost mângâiată de prima picătură se făcea că era…cum era? Era atât de curgătoare, ca cea mai înaltă cascadă din lume. Te uitai la ea și nu te săturai! Așa de minunată era…voiai să o vezi într-unaș îți era frică să-ți iei ochii că poate nu mai e…dar cine știe? Poate că o carte reprezintă libertatea de a spune tot ce gândesc pentru că ar fi scuzat de personajele imaginare.

Dar de ce să ne scuzăm? Sau de ce să n-o facem? Până la urmă facem ce vrem! Vrem să fim atrași de consistența apei, suntem! Vrem să ne amagim din dragoste? Vrem! Atunci ce-i cu neputința asta? Până când să mai fim întrebați dacă putem sau nu? De ce să nu ne punem singur întrebarea? Aș vrea să pot rearanja fiecare atom, și atunci tot Universul ar arăta diferit. Îți poți imagina ca totul să arate diferit? Te poți baza pe o ipoteză toata viața ta? Poți lua o decizie bazată pe imagerie mentală? Ai gânduri de genul ăsta?

De fapt uneori mă gândesc la modul în care soarele îți pictează privirea. Și mă întreb tu la ce te gțndești în momentul ăla magic, mă întreb chiar dacă te gândești la ceva sau doar pur și simplu simți momentul îla magic. Cred că poți doar să-l simți, fără să gândești. Sau poți doar să-l gândești! Nu există nimic pe lumea asta negândit. Tu ce zici? Există? În orice caz vrem o realitate creată de altă cauză pe care să o căutăm.

Subțiind sufletele strămoșilor noștri.

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Autori:

Alexandra Badea Rasa

Manuela Cheche

Andrei Ionescu

Raoul Nedeianu

Alexandru Pisica

Simona Rotariu

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