This painting named “The Truth coming out of the well” was done by the Frenchman Jean-Léon Gérôme in 1896 & in an attempt to explain it one story goes like this.
Truth and the Lie meet one day. The Lie says to the Truth: “It’s a marvellous day today”! The Truth looks up to the skies and sighs, for the day was really beautiful. They spend a lot of time together, ultimately arriving beside a well. The Lie tells the Truth: “The water is very nice, let’s take a bath together!” The Truth, once again suspicious, tests the water and discovers that it indeed is very nice. They undress and start bathing. Suddenly, the Lie comes out of the water, puts on the clothes of the Truth and runs away. The furious Truth comes out of the well and runs everywhere to find the Lie and to get her clothes back. The World, seeing the Truth naked, turns it’s gaze away, with contempt and rage.
The poor Truth returns to the well and disappears forever, hiding therein, it’s shame. Since then, the Lie travels around the world, dressed as the Truth, satisfying the needs of society, because, the World, in any case, harbours no wish at all to meet the naked Truth.
(Source: The Unknown but Not Hidden via Facebook)
Seriously, people, this is how I eat cake and practically everything else. Instead of cutting a piece of cheese I just get the whole chunk out of the fridge, take a bite and return it in the package. I know… I know… unladylike, not polite, unhygienic, not the done thing, etc. etc. etc. But that’s me. I drink water straight from the bottle also but refused to drink the last remaining bit at the bottom. Don’t ask me for a reason, I just don’t know. I eat also food straight from the pot. Sometimes, while sitting in the middle of the table instead of a chair. I don’t mind sharing a plate either. I eat leftovers of D. and give him mine or the pieces I don’t like. There are lots of things I do differently, like most people I guess. But I will not name them here one by one or otherwise, we are in for a long haul. Perhaps I will share some of them once in a while if I’m feeling courageous or just plain crazy.
See you next time.
I am running out of ideas on how to entertain myself during Corona Lockdown.
I am used to self- imposed quarantine. I could go on for years without talking to anyone. That’s not the problem. The trouble is my world suddenly becomes smaller.
How long you could run around the neighborhood and be still in awe of what you see?
I love nature. But believe you me, no matter how great that love is, if I see another river, another poor excuse for waterfalls, another forest, another mountain tops, I would scream till I have no voice anymore left out of sheer frustration.
How many versions of those one could take without being bored to death?
Trees are just trees and water is just water no matter from which angle you view them.
I could understand that the same rules apply if you go further abroad but that is not the point. Ever heard of the journey being more important than the destination? That is not the problem either. The problem is the journey on a familiar road going to an even more familiar destination is becoming tedious it drives me crazy.
I want to explore new horizons, do new things, see unknown whatever. Anywhere but here for crying out loud.
I want to see trees and water and rocks on foreign soil. Observe unfamiliar cultures. I want to taste and try new dishes, I want to experience life again!
But life would never be the same again. I see it now. By all means, as long as I can run around out there without restrictions, free as before then I’m okay. I don’t even have to talk to people. I just want to go places that’s all.
There are lots of real reasons to decide to leave something or someone, but there are lots of other reasons that are less valid and less real and less about a relationship than our own minds: Fear (of screwing up, of being left, of not being good enough), restlessness, resistance to growing up, PMS, not knowing how to live without drama, fearing that you’re getting happy, and happiness is boring.
The thing that scared me the most was the knowledge that if I stayed, something was going to change and that something was probably me. I didn’t know what changed me would look like, or if I would like him more or less than I already did. Would I still recognize myself? Would I still be myself? ―
Today is exactly a year since I had an accident abroad and fractured my spinal cord. I thought I will never walk again.
But I shoulder on like always and here I am still doing the things I thought I would never do again. Like hiking for example.
I still take a dose of morphine from time to time to ease the pain but I find that a small price to pay compared to being paralyzed sitting in a wheelchair whole day.
It wasn’t the first time I seriously broke a bone. When I was ten years old, a car hit me while crossing the highway and snapped my fibula. I was in a hospital for a month and spent my Christmas and New Year there. They offered me a crutch and had been strongly advised to take it easy. I limped to school after three days sans crutch.
Sometimes you got to do what you got to do in order to move on when giving up is not an option.
I’m not keen on celebrating any occasion but this one I ordered a cake for. Because I believe that if there is something worth commemorating it is this___ the fact that after a bad fall, I am still alive and kicking.
I have people and places that I only know in my dreams. Not fantasy, just good old fashioned dream. Nightmares sometimes. Or most of the time for I never dream happy. Happy isn’t for me. In dreams or reality.
They come back in my reoccurring visions (or hallucinations if you prefer) oftentimes in the same dream which funny enough continues after I woke up and go back to sleep. I can even put them on hold or redirect the circumstances according to my wish. Some dreams feel more real than the others and more vivid than reality.
People say dreams are just memories one has long forgotten. I don’t believe them. Surely you can’t forget those that make you feel___ different for lack of a better word. And memories are from the past, not recent. Or perhaps (arguably) I mix the past with the present/recent. Because most of them are grown-ups interacting with a grown-up me.
And most of the places in my dreams are venues I have never been to. I know that for sure. How many yellow cities are there, which collapsed to reveal another layer? A city within a city. Something like that.
I know, most dreams are weird and don’t make sense, but people with faces I don’t recognize? C’mon…
They feel familiar though. As if I have known them all my life. Some I wish I really have known because they give positive vibes and make me feel safe.
The great Edgar Allan Poe once said:
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream…
What do you think?
Who out there (like me) is craving/dreaming/ fantasizing about something like this?
It used to be my backyard. I grew up in places (yes places) like this one and that time like most people who are living in what westerners called “paradise” I didn’t realize how lucky I was. I wish to go back there right now. Not to live but to breathe, away from hassle and bustle of the rat race and soak the atmosphere and for a while relived the memories of my youth, when in spite of the “circumstances ” life is a little bit simpler.
The grandmother of D. died at the beginning of the corona crisis. It’s best for her. She was 86 years old and very sociable. The lockdown would have been fatal for her if she had been still alive.
The ceremony was intimate and short. They scattered her ashes in the small corner of the cemetery and I thought: there you go. One moment you are alive and laughing and the next day you’re gone. They will mix your remains with others in the secluded little corner of the graveyard that looks suspiciously like a place where dogs are allowed to deposit their excrement and that’s it. That’s your whole life is amounted to, a handful of dust on the scraggy patches of grass littered with dried up flowers from previous occupants. Sad I thought.
I know After the game, the king and the pawn go into the same box. And dead is dead but still…
I watched her husband suffered the same fate four years ago. That was the first time I was really confronted with my own mortality. My parents were both dead but that is different. I had a connection with these people. I have lived with them longer than I know my own family. She was kinder to me than my own mother had ever been. I genuinely liked her.
D. and I made a pact that if one of us died, our ashes will be planted together with a sapling of our choice (Tebitan Cherry or Prunus serrula for me, Magnolia for him) so we can grow and be a part of nature instead of disappearing into nothingness like a dried up turd.
… and still, the corona issue lingers.
I could sympathize with the sociables and extroverts out there who need human contact to properly function though I don’t share their predicaments. If truth is to be told, nothing really changes with my lifestyle since the lockdown. I have always been in self-imposed quarantine since I decided to distance myself with all the dramas of humankind. Most of the time I enjoy my solitude. Sometimes I want to be lost in anonymity among strangers who don’t know and want nothing from me. I like it that way.
Probably, the only setback I have experienced during this crisis is not being able to go on vacation and lost my booking. I got a form of a voucher claimable the next time I book a holiday and would be expired within a year. The catch is, nobody knows yet when people are allowed again to travel outside their own countries so, it’s a waiting game. I hope to be out here by October. Fingers cross.
They are predicting the hottest summer (which is becoming the norm these days) I have given up on gardening. My water bill is sky high already and it is not even summer. The driest month so far they say. If it gets even drier, there will be no plant left to water. I don’t know if it is good or bad.
Anyway, I hope June will be kind to you, and let’s pray that this crisis will be over soon.
See you around.