I open my wardrobe and I pick a pair of wings, I dust them off and I put them on. I don’t know how it happened, but I feel I am ready to fly again. I feel light-hearted and the heart is a delicate mechanism, as long as it ticking, it cannot be completely broken. There is a limit to human suffering, the mystics know this and after that, there is only the possibility of a new sunrise. Nowadays, many people lost their spirituality, but the need to believe in something and search for meaning in what we experience is so deep rooted inside the human nature. On a larger scale, comfort and solace can be found for instance in art, but on a personal level, inner peace and the feeling of well-being can be found in love. There are aches that some people create and only a new love can heal. This is how it goes, this is the roller coaster we call life: we go up and down, we sink and we fly. Again and again.
We never know when a new love comes, what color are the eyes of this new love, how this new love smiles or how this new love looks while asleep. We never know until it comes and changes everything.
I met a man who makes me happy. I was always less inclined to action and I spend most of my time daydreaming and looking outside the window, but since a certain late autumn day when we met, I cannot do anything else, I cannot paint, I cannot write, I just feel like behaving like a cat with my lover.
Here I am today, looking myself in the mirror and smiling, thinking how stupid I was sometimes when I thought I would die of loneliness. There are billions of people on this planet, there should be a match for me or you, no matter what our personal weirdness is. My personal madness is my ability to fall in love again, no matter how big the dose of disappointment I got from life was. I remember when I was in high school, I wrote a poem about the Phoenix bird. I was not able to catch its full meaning back then, but as years pass, I realised that is my personal myth. I fall and raise. Again and again.
I don’t know how it happened, my arms just opened and welcomed him. I kissed him on the cheeks, a very erotic touch, indeed. And then we looked at each other, it was a very intense gaze, I could sense his legs moving, but our eyes kept touching. A very erotic touch, indeed. That night we said we for the first time and we kept looking at each other, having wine and laughing. We kept saying we: we like a good talk and sunny places, we like the touch of silk and looking outside the window in winter. We might like each other. And my arms opened and welcomed us for the first time.
There are many types of love we encounter in life. But even the one that brings us sorrow at some point is worth living.
The painful, obsessive type of love is more self oriented and less focused on the relationship itself. It’s one of the possibilities life gives us to learn something about ourselves, about who we are and what we really want. It is a way to claim respect, but many times we do it in a wrong way: claiming affection and wishing for attention from a person that is not willing to give it, when we should just give a little self respect to ourselves. Another type of love, the most pleasant one is that kind of love that brings you joy and makes you trustful and light-hearted. I will always prefer joy to suffering and now I will write some bold words,but which also hide inside them a great dose of truth: I will always prefer joy to suffering because I deserve it.
I met someone I feel at ease with, someone I can talk to about all the things I consider important, someone who makes me laugh and I feel comfortable showing my innermost nature. My innermost nature is very playful, I always though that taking yourself too seriously is bad for your health. If I feel at ease with someone I start talking about all kinds of outrageous things, for instance me riding a turquoise horse on one of the main boulevards of Bucharest. Artists are still children at heart, who keep alive their possibility to marvel at anything, including the vivid imaginary world they carry inside. When we start talking about this band named the blonde bears, I am a bit surprised. And I marvel because I always wanted my imagination to meet someone else’s imagination. If there is a something I wish for so strongly, that is going for a visit in some else’s mind. We invent a story and walk that story around in all the bars we go for wine and cuddles. We laugh thinking about the day when all these imaginary stories we tell to each other, among touches and kisses, will become real. I am glad I have found a friend to play with because love is also a playground. Maybe all those people who suffer because of love, they carry a love that is too old and lost its playful trait. But I am not scared, I know that I will always be incredibly young at heart. We start talking passionately about all those outrageous things, but most importantly we start talking about us. Us, a word that brings me comfort, just like his hands wrapped around my waist.
Imagine you are slowly walking the streets on your way to the meeting point. Imagine there is something trembling inside you, a sort of a mix between soft anxiety and tenderness. Imagine it is precisely the core of humanity burning inside you, a mix between desire and hope. Imagine all these and remember love is about feeling good. Uplifted. Imagine the looks you exchange and the glasses of wine you have, imagine the bond that you start to create, like some invisible threads growing around you. Imagine you remember there was a time when you were so wrapped up inside your own emotions that you didn’t let anyone enter inside your soul. Imagine you remember that and you do not care about it anymore. You don’t care anymore about who you used to be and who hurt you, but more about who you are today, sitting in front of the present. And the present looks back at you and dives deeply into your eyes.
At night, in a bar, cuddling in a corner, we look at each other’s palms. I have an eye for coincidences, I just spot them and register them in my mind.
Just because the unknown was not explained yet, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. I look at his palms and I look at mine and I am surprised: we have the same heart lines and mind lines. We laugh because we feel a bit lucky: we like each other and we have met. I don’t know if this is the hand of destiny or just an immense happiness falling on our heads. But when happiness comes and fills our body, we should just be there are marvel.
I wrote many poems, one for every shade of sadness, for every shade of disappointment, for every illusion I fed with the fire of my passion.
I thought I had a poem for each emotion I would encounter in life and I would pull a piece of paper from my pocket, with some words and colours scribbled on it, saying: I have been here before, I know. But now I am overwhelmed, by this feeling of wholeness because when life starts paying back, it pays for all and I was born under a lucky star, that thought me how to trust in wanders of all kinds. I once won a tv in a supermarket and I could feel the envy of the others waiting in line, like a poison spreading among vegetables and sweets. That poison, such a human product, people standing and queuing for an unknown thing to come and feeling sad if the unknown did not fall on their heads. I always thought we all wait for the excitement of the unknown and blame others for our lack of availability when the unknown appears. But I always thought as well, that the secret of luck is to keep your heart open. I felt that envy some other times as well, I felt it hidden and menacing, the poisonous sadness of luck striking me instead of them. But I never felt guilty for my luck, just grateful, although we are a bit responsible for the luck that searches for us, we should be prepared when it appears and open the door saying: hello, dear wheel of fortune, I am a gambler and I prefer love to poison.
His hands all over my body all the time, exploring and comforting. Love should be equal to comfort and to the joy of living. Us kissing in the elevator and on the streets, disregarding the cold wind of winter. Us alone in a room, just dancing an open hearted dance.
I have a highly sensual nature, but in order to display it, I need an emotional bond as well. And I believe every human being should be granted the immense pleasure to make love with the heart. There is no other feeling more pleasant then the consciousness there are no constraints ahead of us. The future lies in front of us and all we need to do is to explore each other deeply. I want to make love to your body because it is your soul living inside it. We are granted tongues to lick each other’s fears like cats pampering each other. We are granted tongues to speak out our dreams and build together what we cannot do by ourselves only. People are solitary beings only until they find love.
I don’t know exactly when being able to love again happens, but it does happen. Maybe a new love appears at our horizon when we become fully aware that we deserve all the best, that we are loveable and deserve to be well treated, when we are able again to trust and to abandon ourselves in the arms of another human being.
Someone who we can trust that the only abandon possible is that sweet and sweaty type of abandon. Forever is a big word, but when time stands still for a second when we kiss, we sip a bit of immortality from the lips of the other person and we catch a glimpse of the possibility of inner balance as if catching with our eyes closed a full scale picture of the universe, so big and complex, but still existing and functioning as a whole. So here I go on again, displaying my true romantic character. I learnt with time not to hide or disconsider it as being too cheesy or unrealistic, but to let it run freely when it makes its way through my words. Because now I know that there are people who can appreciate this and maybe they will feel inspired to set free their romantic impulses and not to fear being ridiculous. If there will be an inflation of romantic gestures in the world after this article is published, I promise I will not feel guilty at all. Wink.