Ana Todor Blog Journey

A lover knows only humility, he has no choice.
He steals into your alley at night, he has no choice.
He longs to kiss every lock of your hair, don’t fret,
he has no choice.
In his frenzied love for you, he longs to break the chains of his imprisonment,
he has no choice.

A lover asked his beloved:
- Do you love yourself more than you love me?
Beloved replied: I have died to myself and I live for you.
I’ve disappeared from myself and my attributes,
I am present only for you.
I’ve forgotten all my learnings,
but from knowing you I’ve become a scholar.
I’ve lost all my strength, but from your power I am able.

I love myself…I love you.
I love you…I love myself.

I am your lover, come to my side,
I will open the gate to your love.
Come settle with me, let us be neighbours to the stars.
You have been hiding so long, endlessly drifting in the sea of my love.
Even so, you have always been connected to me.
Concealed, revealed, in the unknown, in the un-manifest.
I am life itself.

You have been a prisoner of a little pond,
I am the ocean and its turbulent flood.
Come merge with me,
leave this world of ignorance.
Be with me, I will open the gate to your love.

I desire you more than food or drink
My body my senses my mind hunger for your taste
I can sense your presence in my heart
although you belong to all the world
I wait with silent passïon for one gesture one glance
from you.

Deepak Chopra & Demi Moore - Desire

The sketch of an angel

For many years as a kid, I was upset with God. It was something in the way the priest gripped my cheeks each time he would come to bless our home after Christmas or Easter. It was something in the smell of incense that choked my throat when I entered the church. And, although my grandmother tried to build a halo of legends around God with whispered bed-time stories, the continuous gossip of old ladies in the church halls made my skin crawl. I was the constant target of this blabber, as I didn’t use to cover my head and as my 8-year old clothes were ridiculously regarded as too voluptuous. But most of all, I was upset with God because of the war in Yugoslavia. I used to spend several hours looking outside the window at night and imagining fires and violence, until I would eventually fall asleep, tickled by a childish despair and by the smell of dry rags. It was hard for me to believe God had his ways. I blamed Him for indifference and sometimes even for inexistence.

Then, a strange event occurred, that would change my view of divinity forever. Read the rest of this entry »

Weeds - the metaphor

I just finished the third season of Weeds. The finale is quite troubling, and got me into deep reflections about the sense of reality. At the root of everyday existence lies the very question of what we are/ what we do/ what we mean. Some get lost in a transcendentalist vision of the world, of a blessed way of life which was given and which must not be overcome. Others take it their own way, and build laws upon their personal will. Either way, the question remains standing, the question deepens and the individual shatters under a crisis of identity. Individual laws cannot explain anything, as human laws are as limited as the human being itself. The Transcendent is as always silent (and in saying this I ignore the fact that for some, it might also not exist). And we are left with the answerless question of the self and of what defines us. Some admit they have roots. But nowadays all roots have become weeds, as they were displaced from the very core and substance. Wilted and left rotting. Religion is gone, family is no longer an organizing principle.
And when contemplating this simulacrum of values, of hope and joy we distance more from ourselves until we start hating eachother. Or hating everything around us. Even our echoes rot and we end living in a claustrophobic universe, screeching our mirror images.

Risking myself with spoilers, I have to conclude that this is the reason for which fire burns Agrestic. And Nancy chooses to make sure her house also burns, by spilling gasoline all around. Purification. People get tired of their own identity. And Nancy had to see the community die, just as Nero chose to admire burning Rome. A piece of art and a necessary rite of passage. I do wonder what the fourth season brings.

And if you still do not know what I am talking about, give a try to the first season. Compared to other sitcoms, this is a subtle metaphor upon life. Conspirations and science fiction leave place here for the simple struggle of life. The gray comedy of existence.