roni's private panic room

Providence

roni — Thu, 30 Dec 2010 13:42:55 +0000

I’m reading about waiting. About how the now, the here, the like this is somehow never good enough, not complete, not perfect. For any of us. We are all waiting, for something more, better, something that will be then. For the there, for the like that. The foundation of our existence is dissatisfaction and hope.

When I sign on to the community website in the morning, I curiously run through the latest updates of my friends. X is flying here, Y is traveling there, Z is buying that. And me? Well, I’m freezing, struggling through snow in wet shoes, slipping and falling on the backyard and hurting myself. Sometimes I have a job, sometimes I don’t. My desires are light years away from me. Am I unhappy now?

No! Not even relatively.

There’s an interesting question in Péter Müller’s book, Providence. (I got it for my Birthday last year from my dear Gaby, now the time has come for me to read it.) If my guardian angel would show up now and would offer me to swap lives with anybody, what would I say? I’d get terrified, I would sit down in the armchair and get very quiet. And I would start counting my blessings. Starting with my husband, who is the most amazing person, the sunshine in all my gray mornings, his smile melts the ice, his embrace chases the clouds away. Then, my home. Our small, cozy, safe little corner of the world where we can hide, where nobody hurts us, where nobody bothers us. Our plans, that we are working on so hard, day after day. No, we are not flying, not traveling, not shopping, not now. Are we waiting? No, we are not waiting. We live and enjoy the moment.

Don’t think it’s easy not to be jealous. Sometimes it’s impossible. But then you have to sit back & take your blessings out. And you have to count them. Old pictures. The wonderful places we already have seen. The amazing people that love us, that care about us, that we miss when we are away. The dinner we cook together. The beautiful wee Christmas Tree, its fairy lights glittering in our living room. The good morning hug, the I’m home kiss. That after just 3 days, it doesn’t even hurt that much any more where I’ve hit myself. That this stupid flu has gone out of my system at last. I’m fine, and I’m healthy. And so is he. And we are together, every day.

It’s winter, cold, slippy, slushy winter. It’s not nice to climb out of bed, but how nice it is to climb into bed! To cuddle up on the sofa with hot tea under the blanket, watching animation movies on Christmas Day. Yes, there will be spring. And there will be summer, too. There will be holidays, travels, own car, own home, children, if the Lord will bless us. And yes, there is those who’s NOW is our THEN. But have you ever thought about it, that maybe their NOW is missing whatever is in yours?

We’ve got expelled from Paradise because timeless lightheartedness just wasn’t good enough for mankind. We’d go back but there is no way back. There is only forward. The waiting, the searching, the never finding. Because happiness and satisfaction is not somewhere and sometime.

It’s in our hearts, timelessly. That’s where we have to find our ways back to.

Document1

roni — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 13:18:15 +0000

I can’t continue any more. I can only start over. Because continuing means turning back, going close, taking a good look at the endings, digging into what lead to those. And then, having the knowledge, planning how to adjust, weave, sew, glue, knead, nail the beginnings to the endings… Violent words, all of them. And they presuppose the intent to go back. The intent to take a look inside. There’s no place for me in what has passed. I learned from it whatever I could learn.

With a cotton bud, I cleaned the keyboard of my laptop today. Many years old dirt came out of the gaps. A golden hair, my dog’s, Tana’s. A snow white one – my friend’s dog’s, Alma’s (she hang out at my place quite a few times, too). Then a human hair, red-blonde and curly. Now this did hurt. Not yet in years, but I can already count it in months since I last spoke to her. I miss her. I don’t even understand what had happened. Breathing out. Long, deep. Then, a crumb. Probably nice, crispy Hungarian bread crust. A sticky brown drop. Of course it’s coffee, what else? Coffee in our tiny kitchen, with cigarettes and nice talks. Empty space. Missing. Nothingness.

And then I understood. I can’t continue. I can only start over.

I don’t even need a hiding place any more. I haven’t been afraid of anything for a long time. I closed just way too many doors behind me definitively to allow myself the luxury of being scared.

I mopped the floor of our kitchen and hoovered our living room. My hair is unbelievably red and my nails are unbelievably long. I love the sound of them pattering on the keyboard to the rhythm of Death Cab for Cutie. Instant coffee, sunbeam on fresh snow, a vase of white wild flowers.

Me.

The bravest Angel

roni — Fri, 18 Jun 2010 22:17:18 +0000

There aren’t many stories about angels, apart from the Bible of course. Though angels are often walking amongst us, looking just like us, and only if we’d focus very hard, closing out all confusing lies of circumstances and every-days, only then we will realize how much different they actually are. And then, when on a day similar to this one, an angel disappears from our life to move back to Heaven, a smile breaks through our tears, and we understand. And we know.

I’m not saying it’s easy to write through my tears, but I’m also smiling, because I’ve always known somewhere deep inside, but now it broke out into the open, that I know and love a real Angel. And even though I won’t ever be able to hug her again, and I won’t ever hear her laugh or sing (however both were the most amazing music to ears, I remember), she will still be here in and around me until my heart beats, and I hope I’ll meet her again one day, over there… Over there, where the other angels seem paler and less beautiful right now, because she arrived, and nobody has ever been and nobody will ever be braver or stronger than her.

I read an interview the other day in a nameless magazine. The kind of writing you only read because it’s your lunch break and you’re eating alone and you’re bored. But I really liked one of the questions: “What do you want to be remembered of?” I was thinking about it ever since, what would my reply be? What will people remember me of? What would I want them to think when they’ll remember me? Maybe one day, when I’ll know myself fully, this will be an easy question.

There are some people in my life who are easy to describe with only a few words, because some of their qualities sort of define them, tell them apart from the others and raise them from the average.

Faith.

Strength.

Hope. Mostly ope.

And above all, Bravery.

Because is there, could there possibly be anyone braver than the one who’s been through all hells on earth, who’s experienced all pains, lived through all fears, and is still smiling, and still loves to LIVE?

I am happy, because she is in a beautiful and peaceful place now, where there is no more pain and no more fear. (And she can see everything from there. Even the sea. I think she’s probably watching the sea right now, the red gold of the setting sun reflecting on the waves.)

I am happy, because I could know her and love her and I can remember her.

I am happy, because she was so very close to my heart, and so I can feel this pain now, the pain of loss, the shocking depths of mourn, like never before, and so I feel how real and amazing a force love is, that binds the hearts here on earth.

You are reborn when God floods you

roni — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 21:00:37 +0000

Amazing words borrowed from my dear friend Blondee, for all those who lost someone…

***

God floods you, fucking gopher, out of your tunnel, and you run, through plough and fields, carrying your matted fur – yes, you flooded me my God.

I’m ticking half-asleep, I’m not awake, still this fear again, and this damn rhyme, can’t resist it. It’s love that I’m afraid of, or maybe not, just that look, pain is glowing, I know this, as if I was looking to a mirror. Grass of the summer road on the bottom of a clear, icy lake… water strokes the spears… fishes swim through the meadow… then all of a sudden the glacier dies and the field gets dry again – for a summer.

Shit, I got a shock, not normal, neither bad, nor good, it’s just like this, I’m just afraid. Even my memory, that faithless bitch betrays me all the time. I’m alone.

It was morning, not early, only for those who go to bed at dawn, the phone – the sneak, the tool of “are you coming for lunch on Sunday”, and “where are you, when are you coming”, nothing but a piece of plastic plus a little metal, betrays you (as if your fridge would shoot you) – rings.

You don’t know yet, how would you know, you pick it up, me that is, my sister’s voice from a different world: Dad died.

But… I was a good girl, want to hide back, underneath some earth duvet, until the skies clear up, until the stream dies away, but there is no place to, and I cannot, just like in the childhood nightmare, I’m naked, we all are, in front of each other. There is no “but”, “sorry I’m busy”, “later”, there are no tears, and what would you cry for anyway. What would I… We… We just are. We ARE. And he is not.

Damn fucking phone, the sanctified bitch. It doesn’t sound feminine after all. Phone. It’s neutral, or rather masculine. So let’s go. I haven’t seen dead before. My father, dead, naked, dress him up. Have to.

Years later I say, not to blame, just to declare my disappointment:

- You didn’t come with me, you got sick, you were gray and sweaty; I had to bring you back to town and go alone.

- Is this why you wanted to get divorced?

- No, I’m just saying, I’ve been disappointed.

- I’ve been there, with you. I got sick, we went to the doctor, I got meds, and I went with you. I was there when they took your father from the living room to the bier.

Funny. Think I’m going insane. Or just my brain.

Why is it, that we think the things we are afraid of, the things we hate, feminine? Fucking bitch… And God, though we’ve never seen him, is male.

My sister, the prime-vegan, the prime-tigress, she took the fucking phone, to say it out loud again, to Daddy’s only dear little Son, to his Loli, the unchangeable. She dressed him up with mom and she closed his eyes. I only found it out years later. When I was strong enough to ask the question. And she, to answer it.

For when God floods you, he’s doing a great job. No escape, no hide away, no words, no tears, no you, no knowing, you are like the stiff frame, and another, and another, lo, this is you as well, like a silent film, clean slate you are, waiting for someone to turn a page. And they do. And then you feel, you suspect, who you are.

(Written by Dr. Blondee, 05/04/2007)

There you go

roni — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 23:23:59 +0000

When you give up everything and start to follow a dream, for long moments you feel very brave and strong. You turn into an adventurer. Nothing compares to this feeling, but it’s not constant. It gets to you alternately with fear, emptiness and sadness.

The last days went by sitting on an emotional roller coaster. My farewell party was pleasant, my last day with the family a bit stressful… The moment when I left my dog squeezed my heart out, though I didn’t think I will miss her this much, maybe the most… My last evening at home, when I was supposed to run around the flat over-excited and pack the pieces of my life in and out of my two yawning suitcases – well, my last evening was the deepest phlegm. I was watching an air crash movie sitting on the floor, and I felt very-very lonely. I was not afraid. And I didn’t hope. Somehow the whole thing just didn’t interest me at all, it was kind of a pre-death experience, not that I know how that is. I was a bit nervous and eccentric at the airport, but at last I started to feel the adrenaline. And then I came loose. And I departed. And I arrived.

There was nothing felicitous in it, but I guess I’ve never been this much self-assured before. Not that I did too many things all alone before. And now I came here, to London, to live here. I arrived to the Nothing, as a new-age errant, with two suitcases and some hope.

Believe me, there’s nothing romantic or heroic in it. You are small and invisible, and you have to stand on your own two feet. There’s no mom and no siblings and no friends. It’s just you and the city. There was “helyijáratos buszjegy”, “feltöltőkártya”, “vigyázz lépcső”, “hatos busz”, “igen kérem”, “nem köszönöm”, “jónapot” and “viszlát”. And now there is Oyster Card, top up voucher, mind the gap, Victoria line service, yes please, no thanks, hello and bye. After two days, it’s not even strange anymore. Not the red bus coming from a different direction on the “wrong” side of the road, nor that there is no two people of the same nationality on an ordinary 73, nor that you are not allowed to smoke anywhere. You start to know the change as well. You get your National Insurance Number Card and UK bank account. You try your best to get a job: London’s not as it was 5 years ago, but it’s hopefully not hopeless.

The weather is predictable: on even days it’s warm and wet, on odd days it’s sunny and cold. Good coffee is as rare as the white crow, but you can get good Chinese food.

You are here. This is what you exist in. Here you wake, here you walk, here you lay your head. An unknown acquaintance, sometimes friendly, sometimes shameless, sometimes rude. A big and stirring city with an incomparable spirit. Impossible not to love, but it never takes you in fully.

It’s not Home as yet, oh no. But someday it could be. So I’ll stay and give it a try. Maybe it’s not a big adventure, but it’s my adventure after all.

Summary

roni — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 17:57:33 +0000

Another year went by, a very good and notable year, one I will always remember. I read my yearly horoscope last January, and it said that I will change totally, inside and out. And so I did. Here follows a Bridget-Jones-type of Summary of my 2008

Kilograms I took off: double-digit (very very good)

Cigarettes I smoked: ca. 11.000 (very bad)

Whiskeys I drank: more liters, 90% in the first 3 months (bad but needed)

Books I’ve read: ca. 12 (could be better)

Movies I’ve watched: triple-digit

Moving home: 1

Friends who have been there for me no matter what: 9 (I LOVE YOU LOTS!!!)

Family who has been there for me no matter what: 1 (I LOVE YOU LOTS!!!)

Love: 1

Relationships: 1

Relationships with a Hollywood Screenplay: 1

New Year’s Resolutions: 0

One-way tickets purchased to London: 1

Dreams: many

Mistakes I’ve made: 1

Mistakes beyond repair: 0

***

Thanks for everyone who’s been there for me and stood beside me and loved me this year, you are my happiness, you give me strength to survive the hard days, you give me bravery to take my huge steps. Thanks to you, I dare to dream and I dare to move on, because I know that you will remain standing here right behind me, to catch me whenever I fall.

There’s no Christmas…

roni — Tue, 23 Dec 2008 14:02:11 +0000

…at least not here in my heart, one day before the feast, there is no sign of the Christmas-feeling. This year, everything fell away. I didn’t make an Advent Wreath, didn’t bake cookies, I don’t even have a Christmas Tree, only some pine sprigs are waiting for a vase and some decoration in the dining room. I won’t be at home anyway, but still… now that the feast is near, I realize that this year, I didn’t decorate my soul. The sun is shining warmly outside and spring wind blows through the window, this doesn’t help much either. Maybe tomorrow… maybe the feast will catch me suddenly this year, it will walk in without knocking by the light of the sparklers.

This will be a strange Christmas, the Christmas of saying goodbye. In less than three weeks, I’ll leave my whole life behind and I’ll go away from here. Maybe it’s not a big deal, but to me it’s a huge step. I already miss those I love, and I can only hope that our love and care won’t fade away and won’t pale when the thoughts will have to travel more thousand kilometers.

I’m a bit scared as well. And sad. Somewhere outside in the big world, there is someone who’s important to me, and he is all alone now. I wish to tell him that all my thoughts will be with him, but I don’t know if it matters. I would give everything to be able to hug him tomorrow night, but all I have is words, all I can give is words.

There’s no Christmas in my heart, just gaping loneliness and endless love. The first I will put on my pine sprigs as a gloomy ornament, the last I will celebrate. Because love is the only thing worth celebrating.

How old am I?

roni — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 18:58:20 +0000

Anybody want to guess?

A funny episode happened today. After my usual fridge-re-filling shopping tour, I asked for two boxes of cigarettes at the checkout. The lady looked at me, and asked me with a funny look on her face: “Tell me, are you 18 already?”

LOL and LOL, I got so shocked I could not answer for a second, then, with a hamburger smile on my face, I gave her my ID card and added: “Well yeah I definitely am, but thanks for the question, it was really the nicest compliment!”

Well, I don’t think anything could take this smile off my face today. Nor tomorrow! In fact, I’ll be wearing this grin till the 15th of January! Forever young!!!

Toooooo muchhhhh

roni — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 01:29:27 +0000

And when you think everything’s alright, your system throws up the sponge. You lead yourself on that “I can stand it”, but sadly it seems you can’t. An ordinary Tuesday afternoon, after you finished your work and ran out to the city to sort your things out, suddenly you feel you have to lay down. It’s only 5 p.m… your shoulders get cramped and you barely can move your arms. You don’t feel sick, you just have to sleep. You don’t come to yourself till 11 p.m., and then you feel seriously bad. Qualm, weakness, extreme thirst… Temperature, dejection. Nothing hurts. But something’s just ain’t right.

This is just too much, too much what’s happening to me, around me, in me. I can’t stand it, I should stop, but how? Wish I had one, just one thing in my life that’s sure… Something I can hold on to, something I can tie my balloon to… But it seems this is the time of flying free, and this is a bit sickening. My earth-being fights against my air-being. My roots are spearing up free and vulnerable, because I pulled them out cruelly. Their home, the foundations of my former life, are like a gaping wound on the ground. Do the trees know how to fly? May they fly at all? Or should I leave this all behind, and transform to one single winged seed? That one day, hopefully not too far, will arrive somewhere else, and strikes new roots?

Nobody’s holding my hand. And so, of course, nobody’s pulling me back.

The stranger

It’s all over, I’m not traveling anymore
No adventures are waiting for me there in the Far West
East and West and all the sweet dreams
No matter how my heart aches, you have to get to know:

I won’t be here tomorrow
Different idea, different habits
New country, new adventures
But the girls are nice there as well

And sometimes I feel that it hurts still
And sometimes I wish to go back
From where no one’s been before
From where no one waited for me before

East and West and all the sweet dreams
No matter how my heart aches, you have to get to know:
I won’t be here tomorrow
Different idea, different habits
New country, new adventures
But the girls are nice there as well

And the girls are nice here as well…

Once again, because it’s true

roni — Sat, 06 Dec 2008 20:36:33 +0000

“Some people come into your life for a lifetime and some come for a season. You have to know which is which. I put everybody that comes into my life in the category of a tree. Some people are leaves on a tree. The wind blows, they go to the left. The wind blows from the other way, they go to the right. They are just unstable. You can’t count on them for nothing. All they ever do is take from that tree. What you need to understand about a leaf is that it has a season. It’ll wither and die and blow away. There ain’t no need to be praying over a leaf to be resurrected. When it’s dead it’s gone. Let it go! Some people are like that. All the leaf ever does is cool you off every now and then. If you’re grown, you know what I’m talking about, because you can call them in the middle of the night and get cooled off. That’s the leaf people. They come to take.
Then there are people like a branch. You got to be careful with branch people. They come in all different shapes and sizes. You never know how strong they will be in your life. So my advice is to tip out on it slowly. When you’re going out on a limb, don’t put too much weight on it at once, because it can fall and leave you high and dry. Sometimes, you have to wait for a branch to grow up before it can hold all of the things you want to share with it.
Finally, there are people who are like roots at the bottom of the tree. If you find yourself two or three people in your entire lifetime that are like the roots, then you are blessed. The roots don’t care nothing about being seen. All they’re there to do is hold that tree up, to make sure it stays in the air. It comes from the earth to give that tree everything it needs. That’s what relationships should be about. That’s what you need, people who want to be in your life for the right reasons.
If somebody wants to walk out of your life, you’ve got to LET THEM GO! When you learn to love yourself, you will end up giving standards to everyone around you. Again, I repeat with emphasis, if they don’t meet those standards, you have to let them go, because they might be a leaf. And forgive them with all your might.”

(Tyler Perry “Madea’s uninhibited commentaries on love and life”)