lost in translation..

Words are a funny thing… I firmly believe they were created as convenience, with the thought of easing communication, and actions for that matter…much faster to shout a phrase in thundering voices and impress… I wonder if that was what started them… the words, the languages… was it cavemen trying to spare themselves the energy of snatching their women, when they could just ask them to follow… just a thought that comes to mind… it could have been just not wanting to bump heads with neighboring others, not having to fight for each and every thing…

I guess the world hasn’t changed all that much. Though we now communicate in tongues, and many of us can express themselves in several of those, we still revert to being primitive and fighting about everything… in words, not fists so much.. so where’s the logic in that? Or progress for that matter? Well, focus on the good, someone told me once… and there’s plenty of that when it comes to words… I love words. A little too much. I see with words like others see with their fingertips, explore each detail in depth, giving my full attention to each thing, phenomenon, feeling, thought, event, person, treating each with the utmost importance, letting them come together in perfect symbiosis… isn’t that all we carry with us though time? Our words, left in our memory to rebuild the past? It may be, again, just who I am.

I was reminded of their importance recently… is the sense of a text lost in translation? And if one reads a foreign book, well translated mind you, should they expect to understand what the author meant? Will the translation be accurate? Or will the translation accurately depict what the writer tried to say?.. Which is more important? Being accurate or understanding the meaning? I think it’s like saying and doing… the two have to coincide… or else the notion becomes confusing, if not completely damaging…

Take Dante’s Paradiso, for example. The simplest of statements… yet twisted beyond recognition. I left the translation as I found it. Someone really believed that’s what it says…

My take would be different. As I believe he meant it… as I mean it… for love can wrap itself around one’s soul in mesmerizing ways, fluidly caressing each sense, until infatuated with it, the soul would whisper in one breath “but thus spun my will and vain desires, like a wheel that keeps on turning.. the love that moves the sun and the other stars”…

Funny thing, words…

 

bucket list

I was once told that when the reality defeats me, I should think of mornings, breakfast and shirts… it doesn’t not make much sense now that I think aloud, but in my mind it really does…

Reality tends to get wild lately, and since no manual comes with the surprises, I try to make do with what I think would apply… it’s not like I’m ever ready for the changes anyway… just try to open my eyes and see them before they come, as much as possible…

It seems reasonable to make a list and check it twice (no pun) if you want to keep your course steady through the angry waves. I never asked for much though, so I have no pressing desires to highlight for my journey. I find myself wishing for small things, as if they were my whole world… silly really… who dreams to curl up on the settee, when the world is still asleep, wrapped in the night and the sofa throw, head resting in a lap, eyes closed, listening to the steady breathing, the scent of fresh coffee and morning dew infusing the air… quiet… content… appeased… or walk the beach at sunset, no words, just listening to the voices of the ocean, holding a hand… or picking fresh basil to chop for the white sauce pasta…

My bucket list would be short. If I were to cease being tomorrow, a handful of little things would be left scribbled on it…

I want to see a child turn into a giant.. a gentle and great one…

I dream of dipping my feet in the turquoise waters, and walk the white sands

I’d like to finish what I started and not lose hope every step of the way, when the world turns dark.. but stand tall at the end of my tunnel…

I wish to be boring, and do all the simple things.. at least for a while…

But most of all, I crave to walk in light… savor each minute, without haste, fear, or doubt… bask in the warmth… and be still.

There must be a thousand other thoughts that would cross my mind at any given time, frivolous demands, but if I were to really pick THE ones, there wouldn’t be many more aside from these… at least not now… and that may be slightly different tomorrow, when the world kicks me to the curb again… and the waves smear the ink on my list, making it look like there are more words… but the markings of the pen will stay the same… engraved in the paper… traceable with the fingertips… promised to the future.

ramblings

 

But it could easily be the other way…

Like a prayer..

trust

Friend or foe… maybe there is a gray area there too… but when it comes to trust, one thing is certain for me; the only one person who can be trusted with everything… well they haven’t been born yet. For anyone. Mainly because we’re all human. If I can’t trust myself sometimes, should I ever expect others to not betray my trust?  I could, but that would be highly irrational, or simply stupid, and though I can be known as demonstrating both, most of the time I have some common sense…

Trust is a dangerous thing, creates dependencies, illusions, and expectations. None of which are desirable, real, or beneficial. Trust is better left to self. When it can be done. Which should be more often than not. Unless it’s more not…

or so the story goes..

facets of truth

Yesterday morning I was pondering the end of life and what I’d take with me… Yesterday afternoon I was answered. Not what I expected, but I guess I hadn’t seen all the variables, and really needed to… It turns out that truth is like a diamond, with many facets that make it whole and each one as important as the other… I was wondering if I’d remember all, some or, really, anything at all…

Well, now I know that if the lights go out unexpectedly, the shock of it leaves the mind blank of any memories… I guess survival mode is activated and any ballast is irrelevant; salvation becomes the priority, and any brain cell left awake goes into emergency mode to figure the way out… no memories to take with… not even the slightest intention of one… and at the end of the ordeal, as brief an encounter as it was, an empty shel resonated in the wind. And the truth was not comforting at all… then why do I try?

I hope that if I go of old age; or, at least of more peaceful means, and my time with my past will then be allowed.. I’d hate to be robbed of my memories after gathering stacks of them, filing and labeling them, placing them in order of appearance, importance and by good or bad… but then it dawned on me… better safe than sorry, why not flip through them every day, soak my soul until they are embedded in me like my fingerprints… then I wouldn’t have to worry I’d lose them when I’m gone… or should I not even try at all? It may make more sense to just sample each day and shed anything that tries to cling to me for safe keeping…

Give

They say it’s best to give than to receive. That might be the case of the pure, selfless inner being, when it can bring itself to feel generous. But the humans that we are find it hard to give unconditionally. And many times, even if on the receiving end, the questions still lurks  in the back of our mind as to why were we such lucky recipients…

We give because we care, because we have no use for it anymore, because we are good Christians, because we are told, because we need to write it off our taxes, because we’re in a good mood, or simply because we feel like it. Each motive is personal, each time.

It doesn’t even matter why. What is important… is to give.

Italianisms….

 

Life finishes only when one stops breathing; for everything else, there’s a solution.

 

Love? Not to be looked for; not to be waited on; not to be chosen. It just comes. And it can do so on your saddest day, during your darkest times, or right when you lost all hope and don’t want it anymore…Love is like that, never warns…

 

Universal lies:

I’m not drunk

I didn’t want to hurt you

Let’s remain friends

She’s just a friend

I lost your number

I need “me” time

Tomorrow I’ll start dieting

 

time