Despre ingeri / About angels

Cand rasare soarele, primul lucru pe care suntem tentati sa il facem este sa tragem draperiile, sa deschidem geamul larg, sa lasam lumina sa intre si sa uitam de negura noptii, de frig, de intuneric si necunoscut. Cand rasare soarele, pentru un moment nimic nu mai conteaza decat noua zi, cu toate provocarile, bucuriile si lumina ei, care ne imbata si ne face sa uitam.

Sursa foto

Pe la amiaza, pleoapele se ingreuneaza placut, intram intr-o stare de usora somnolenta, facem o cafea tare si, privind in adancul cestii, ne revin in minte imagini ale noptii trecute, cu orele in care am privit neajutorati tavanul, cu clipele in care am crezut ca cea mai buna alternativa e ca noaptea sa devina eterna, cu ingerii negri care ne-au bantuit visele si cu cei pazitori, putini, dar prezenti, care ne-au tinut de mana si ne-au ghidat catre lumina unei alte dimineti.

Ingerii umbla liberi printre noi. Ii recunoastem in zorii zilei, ii ignoram o vreme, apoi, privind in luciul cafelei aburinde de dupa-amiaza, ii identificam exact, asa cum sunt, cu tot ce au facut, ne amintim caldura mainii care, fara a cere nimic in schimb, ne-a departat de marginea prapastiei. Si ne gandim sa le fim si noi ingeri pazitori intr-o zi, pe care insa nu ne-o dorim apropiata.

Multumesc ingerilor mei, ii port in suflet, ii pomenesc in rugaciuni, ii tin pe piedestalul de pe care nimeni si nimic nu ii va da jos vreodata!

***

When the sun rises, the first thing we are tempted to do is to pull back the curtains, open the window wide, let the light in and forget about the darkness of the night, the cold, the dark and the unknown. When the sun rises, for a moment nothing matters but the new day, with all its challenges, its joys and its light, which makes us drunk and forgetful.

By midday, our eyelids are pleasantly heavy, we enter a state of mild drowsiness, we make a strong coffee and, looking deep into our cups, images of the night before come to mind, of the hours when we looked helplessly at the ceiling, of the moments when we thought the best alternative was for the night to go on forever, of the dark angels who haunted our dreams and the few but present guardians who held our hands and guided us to the light of another morning.

Angels walk freely among us. We recognize them at dawn, ignore them for a while, then, gazing into the glow of steaming afternoon coffee, identify them exactly as they are, with all they have done, remember the warmth of the hand that, without asking anything in return, has steered us away from the brink. And we think of being their guardian angels one day, which we don't want to be any time soon.

I thank my angels, I carry them in my heart, I remember them in my prayers, I keep them on a pedestal from which nothing and no one will ever take them away!

Traiesc! / I am alive!

Iti dai seama ca esti in viata dimineata, cand vezi soarele mijind printre nori si colorand cerul in rosu-porticaliu, pe fata ti se asterne un zambet palid si apoi iti trece prin minte exact chestia asta: traiesc, si ti se face instant pielea ca de gaina... 

Realizezi ca traiesti cand, in drum spre munca, iti trec prin cap zeci de idei pe care ai vrea sa le scrii pe blog, dar care, apoi, mor subit, in lipsa de timp. 

Traiesti cand tragi in piept aerul de munte si te lasi invins de linistea care invaluie peisajul alb: brazii sunt albi, aleea e alba, muntii sunt albi... 

Iti amintesti ca traiesti cand te suna mama, sa te intrebe, invariabil, daca ai mancat sau daca ai ajuns cu bine acasa. 

Iti amintesti ca traiesti mult prea rar, comparativ cu datile in care simti ca mori, pentru ca iti permiti sa mori, in fiecare zi cate un pic, pana la final, cand o sa uiti senzatia aia minunata cand rasaritul iti mangaie pleoapele!

***

You realise you are alive in the morning, when you see the sun peeking through the clouds and colouring the sky in red-orange, you get a pale smile on your face and then this exact thing crosses your mind: I am alive, and you instantly get goose bumps... 

You realise you're alive when, on your way to work, dozens of ideas come into your head that you'd like to blog about, but then suddenly die for lack of time. 

You live when you breathe in the mountain air and let yourself be overcome by the silence that envelops the white landscape: the trees are white, the alley is white, the mountains are white... 

You remember that you are alive when your mother calls you, invariably to ask if you have eaten or if you have arrived home safely. 

You remember that you live far too seldom, compared to the days when you feel you are dying, because you allow yourself to die, every day a little, until the end, when you forget that wonderful feeling when the sunrise caresses your eyelids!