A very very good friend, who I met in Rishikesh, got to know I am an amateur writer and wanted me to tell her a love story. She even gave me the beginning, the 1st statement, which would be "when he saw her she was standing by the open window with a red rose in her hand and the untamed wind caressing her face", or something of the like.
Possibly as a counter reaction, I ended up telling her a story of unfulfilled love, dramatic, the main character consumed in pain and fear. I'm not sure she enjoyed it, but I think it was actually the same kind of love she had asked me to tell her about, the romantic love; the feeling of a teenager craving for a beautiful girl, the impulses and the blindness of somebody taken by passion and desire, the jealousy in a relationship...
There's the nice poems meant to express that one cannot even breath without the loved one, there's the possession and the strong fear of losing the loved one, there's the despair, desperation and craziness when the loved one does not love the one. All seem to be aspects of the same kind of love, romantic it is usually called, which regards the loved one as an object of love, and not so much as a person to love to, which happens in the mind only; and it is not such a big exaggeration to say that it hardly needs the loved one. At least not for the romantic game, for which a single person, the one taken by love, is enough.
I tried to explain to my friend that I don't really like this romantic love, even if I'm not sure I believe that I don't. Well, love for me is a struggle, since reluctant women always manage to make it that way. Then, I kind of despise romanticism, but start my quest for "real love", for that love happening only when the two people are together, that kind of magical feeling in the present, pure, crystalline, (not when I'm missing her or waiting or looking for her or just thinking about her).
But what about that quest?. It is probably a new pattern, a solution for the struggle in which the impulse to look for love and the fear, blind fear for it, both get into a new balance which looks rationally sound and beautiful - or maybe just very very unromantic and a bit insane.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
One year!
Today it's been one year that I left everything including my job, one year that I've been a nadaist - even if I started the blog only around 3 months later.
So it's a kind of anniversary and could be a reason for a celebration, maybe. I'm doing nothing though. I'm in Delhi, which is a kind of uninspiring city, and only here on my way to Mumbai. Besides today I've got my shoes stolen and a famous "delhi-belly" - and I don't mean the last one as a travellers' cliche.
Furthermore, only yesterday I left Rishikesh and it was tough. I had a very good time there and it was not easy to say good-bye to some of the friends I've made - maybe I should talk about them in another post, maybe I'd like to insist a bit on the somewhat boring ideas regarding the struggle...
Anyway, it does not matter, here it is where I happen to be in this important date, that's it. There's no good way or bad way to celebrate. There's not even a reason to celebrate when everything you eat goes down to the toilet so fast.
It reminds me, when I left London in April I decided I would find an island in the Mediterranean and maybe rent something for a few weeks and spend the time writing and going to the beach. Eventually I decided the island would be Sicily and I got there beginning of June after a tough night train journey from Rome. I was in Catania, very tired, very early in the morning, I went to a guesthouse I had kind of booked and it was nice and cheap but they told me to go for a walk, since the room was not ready yet. The city looked nice even if I was exhausted. When I went back to the guesthouse, in an impulse I negotiated with the owner for a better price if I stayed longer. He said yes.
But when I got a bit of rest I was not so sure about the decision. I had just arrived, maybe I wanted to take a look to other potential cities to stay, like Siracusa or Taormina, maybe I just wanted to think about it. Eventually I realised, it took me hours or even days, that all the anxiety I had about my decision to stay in Catania was actually about the trip itself. I had been one month an a bit just on my way from London to the "promised island", and everything in the way was enjoyable and easy, because I was just on my way. Then in Catania I realised that I was there.
It might sound silly. But the rest of the trip was lovely. I was there, in whichever place I was. And now I have the sensation I'm always there, anywhere I am.
So here I am in Delhi, with my delhi-belly, with my new shoes, in a day that by chance is related to a very very good decision I took one year ago. And I have the feeling that I could stay as a nadaist for ever, if only somebody would give me the funds to start it up.
There's another nice thing I remember about Catania. The owners of the guesthouse were very nice, invited me for dinner a few times. Eventually the house was full and they proposed me to move for a few days to the apartment of a brother of the man who was living in Milano. It was such a nice place, such good days, cooking and writing and doing nothing.
The apartment was in the via Amore 4, which means "street of Love 4". When I left I decided that whenever I could I would always try to live in the street of love. But I havent kept the promise!.
So it's a kind of anniversary and could be a reason for a celebration, maybe. I'm doing nothing though. I'm in Delhi, which is a kind of uninspiring city, and only here on my way to Mumbai. Besides today I've got my shoes stolen and a famous "delhi-belly" - and I don't mean the last one as a travellers' cliche.
Furthermore, only yesterday I left Rishikesh and it was tough. I had a very good time there and it was not easy to say good-bye to some of the friends I've made - maybe I should talk about them in another post, maybe I'd like to insist a bit on the somewhat boring ideas regarding the struggle...
Anyway, it does not matter, here it is where I happen to be in this important date, that's it. There's no good way or bad way to celebrate. There's not even a reason to celebrate when everything you eat goes down to the toilet so fast.
It reminds me, when I left London in April I decided I would find an island in the Mediterranean and maybe rent something for a few weeks and spend the time writing and going to the beach. Eventually I decided the island would be Sicily and I got there beginning of June after a tough night train journey from Rome. I was in Catania, very tired, very early in the morning, I went to a guesthouse I had kind of booked and it was nice and cheap but they told me to go for a walk, since the room was not ready yet. The city looked nice even if I was exhausted. When I went back to the guesthouse, in an impulse I negotiated with the owner for a better price if I stayed longer. He said yes.
But when I got a bit of rest I was not so sure about the decision. I had just arrived, maybe I wanted to take a look to other potential cities to stay, like Siracusa or Taormina, maybe I just wanted to think about it. Eventually I realised, it took me hours or even days, that all the anxiety I had about my decision to stay in Catania was actually about the trip itself. I had been one month an a bit just on my way from London to the "promised island", and everything in the way was enjoyable and easy, because I was just on my way. Then in Catania I realised that I was there.
It might sound silly. But the rest of the trip was lovely. I was there, in whichever place I was. And now I have the sensation I'm always there, anywhere I am.
So here I am in Delhi, with my delhi-belly, with my new shoes, in a day that by chance is related to a very very good decision I took one year ago. And I have the feeling that I could stay as a nadaist for ever, if only somebody would give me the funds to start it up.
There's another nice thing I remember about Catania. The owners of the guesthouse were very nice, invited me for dinner a few times. Eventually the house was full and they proposed me to move for a few days to the apartment of a brother of the man who was living in Milano. It was such a nice place, such good days, cooking and writing and doing nothing.
The apartment was in the via Amore 4, which means "street of Love 4". When I left I decided that whenever I could I would always try to live in the street of love. But I havent kept the promise!.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Struggle
There's quite a few confusing ideas in eastern phylosophies and systems of belief, one of them is about renunciation. Not that I understand anything, of course. But I had the idea of the indian or buddhist ascetics leaving the material world and going to the forest to live in endurance as a path to somewhere superior. Somehow it is related to the karma as well, although these two are completely different concepts I believe.
Anyhow, maybe I was making a mistake here with the renunciation. In the yoga class I learnt that these guys are not really interested on the self torture, but rather on the struggle. It could be anything, it may be attempting a very simple yoga posture, (one of those that myself I can attempt and never make right), or, just to take a completely unrelated example, it may be confessing your mum that you are gay on your 40th birthday. When you have the impulse to go for it, the 1st internal reaction is fear, is "I cannot make it" or "I'm going to hurt myself or somebody else" or whatever. There is a conflict between the willingness for the action and the fear of it, and there is a counter-reaction which is the struggle when you are actually trying to do it.
That's the point they want to focus on. Since the struggle may become creative, since something new could come to your mind as a result.
If does not really matter if you make it or not, there's many other yoga positions to try; even if you've made it is not enough, since surely it was not perfect or you could not hold it long enough. And your mum probably knows at this stage you are gay, (even if she did as if she didnt), so the problem is really why you havent told her yet, and a new struggle will come when you are trying to figure out what to say next.
It is the struggle itself which is really the important moment; not what you make of it, nor the sense of achievement, nor what you rationalise afterwards. My guru-bitch tried to show me I should forget about any of the struggles as soon as they are finished, and not to make a fuss of it, of course not to write about it. So I leave it here.
Anyhow, maybe I was making a mistake here with the renunciation. In the yoga class I learnt that these guys are not really interested on the self torture, but rather on the struggle. It could be anything, it may be attempting a very simple yoga posture, (one of those that myself I can attempt and never make right), or, just to take a completely unrelated example, it may be confessing your mum that you are gay on your 40th birthday. When you have the impulse to go for it, the 1st internal reaction is fear, is "I cannot make it" or "I'm going to hurt myself or somebody else" or whatever. There is a conflict between the willingness for the action and the fear of it, and there is a counter-reaction which is the struggle when you are actually trying to do it.
That's the point they want to focus on. Since the struggle may become creative, since something new could come to your mind as a result.
If does not really matter if you make it or not, there's many other yoga positions to try; even if you've made it is not enough, since surely it was not perfect or you could not hold it long enough. And your mum probably knows at this stage you are gay, (even if she did as if she didnt), so the problem is really why you havent told her yet, and a new struggle will come when you are trying to figure out what to say next.
It is the struggle itself which is really the important moment; not what you make of it, nor the sense of achievement, nor what you rationalise afterwards. My guru-bitch tried to show me I should forget about any of the struggles as soon as they are finished, and not to make a fuss of it, of course not to write about it. So I leave it here.
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