Sunday, May 30, 2010

The ' muchness' line


I was utterly amused by endless discussion threads that mushroomed following Tim’s Burton most recent take on Alice. There is a hotchpotch of it out there and I particularly like the soccer Mom, the feminist and the Lutheran interpretations, to name a few. The over-the-counter motivational lines on ‘why finding/re-gaining muchness matters’ and ‘why the best ones are mad’ are terrific!

Indeed there were also some actually intelligent thoughts on ‘blurring the fine line between (so uniquely) Carroll’s intellectual nonsense and true madness’, induced with a much exploited father-daughter interaction at the outset, and the famous: ‘You're mad, bonkers, off your head ‘ line.

Just a few months before I had a pleasure of meeting Burton’s Alice I distinctly remember referring to one of my own intense experiences as belonging to two opposite, yet not mutually exclusive levels of experience – non-sense and sense-free. Thank you, Burton, for introducing the mad line regardless of all the possible abuse and misinterpretation, and for reminding me on the difference between the two.

It dawned on me that throughout the journey Alice actually bounces on that very edge between the non-sense and sense-free, till she finds herself on the other side of both. The same experience I just mentioned was described by the other side as ‘on the edge of…don’t-know-what’. And that precisely is what Alice reminded me of: the edge of reason, sense, self and reality, the divider and the connector is actually the possibility line – and the best place to be.

The amount of symbolism condensed in Alice’s interactions with the Mad Hatter is mind -boggling for anyone who hasn’t joined Alice’s Facebook fun club 3 months ago. The Platonic thread of questions on nature of reality ( ‘ I am real as much as you want me to be’ and ‘ THIS is real as much as you want it to be’), and importantly – the notion of muchness. Disappointed with her laissiez-faire approach to the state of affairs in the Wonderland, the Mad Hatter introduces the famous "You were much more muchier (then)...You've lost your muchness" line. And as soon as I heard it, I smiled to myself, and to my companions on each side that were far too busy trying to salvage whatever was left of the melted ice-cream smuggled into the theater, and I though: I can’t wait to read the blogs! And can’t wait to see the numerous interpretations of the tagline, the sound bites, the ‘ finding yourself’ discussion with a new age and especially the feminist twist – how convenient it was to have a corseted Victorian society as a backdrop to the whole thing!

But that exactly is – not – the point in my view. Loosing muchness is not about ‘ loosing the true self’ or whatever loosey goosey umbrella term was coined. 'Muchness' has very little to do with the 'true self' - it is simply about curiosity, and about what we do with it: neglect, smoother, or embrace it. And that brings me back to the fortune cookie commentary on curiosity being the greatest divider of people –as well as the greatest tissue. Which is precisely why Alice can’t appeal to everyone, or even to most, nor could she ever be a symbol of universal human pursuit of ‘self’. If it wasn’t for her actionable curiosity she would have never landed amongst the random and the bizarre dynamics of the wonderwild! You must be able to notice the white rabbit first, and that precisely is the point.

Friday, May 28, 2010

The Companions - Part 1


This post is dedicated to a somewhat random choice of companions that truly touched me along the way with something unique they all have, in no particular order. A dialogue between just a handful of people most of which never met each other but are linked through the web of my life. Their inspiration, curiosity, willingness to jump down the tiniest and the darkest, steepest of holes, and most of all, their nourishment and love fueled much of the journey at different stages. Today, they are each on a different continent, and regardless of frequency, or infrequency of our joint falls nowadays, I look back at our trips to wonderland together with much love. Most are still here though and nourish often, and in their own way, they all make this planet a bearable place. This collage is just starting to come together and will be filled with their creative work - music, paintings, photography, literature, and everything else.

R. She. Europe. Designs beauty. One of the most beautiful people currently residing on this planet. There is a very unique humbleness, goodness that only the most beautiful women have in their maturity. Something Greek, Keats' 'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know'. Her unconditional love is humbling, our joint memories of all the worlds we created together, invaluable. Some of them happy some of them very painful, but all cherished immensely. Her gift to me: her unconditional love.

N. He. Middle East. Vagabond, eternal boy. Captures beauty with camera. His gift to me: in-your-face friendship. One birthday present, the best present I ever got: on -20 Celsius he turned up at with full gear, dragged me out to another end of the city to catch the sunset at a particular spot, and give me the best photography lesson, lesson in friendship. His first ever framed photograph. He was the first person that ever told me my curiosity was obsessive and tried to teach me how to moderate it.

M. She. Middle East. Her gift to me: her common sense and care for my wellbeing over many years. Yanking me out of trouble, and preventing some unnecessary and pointless falls. And more giggles than one can giggle in a lifetime. The best of times. One of the few people I can always re-live the best memories with, time and again, no matter what. Our almanac( the typology of beasts) written together over many years. Comfort and safety re-defined.

G. He. America. Designs dreams. One of the most creative people currently residing on this planet. A healer, a challenger. Fiercely loyal. Contagiously happy. His gift to me: healing me. Putting the mirror in front of me when I needed it.

S. She. Asia. Bollywood dame. She was a short visitor but my heart was never captured that fast. How beautiful she was. Her gift to me: a shy statement ' you are the best thing that has ever happened to me' ( she waited till I was just about to take off, to tell me, how humble she was). Indeed, I was blessed to hear that a number of times in my life, but that's the only time I cried.

S. He. Europe. Nourishes the planet. Pure light and smiles. His gift to me: soul nourishment, friendship of a child; the 'little bear and little donkey' story on a 10- hour bus ride through wonderland with my head, heart and body sick to their limits. One of the few people that I was truly ever humbled by.

G. She. Africa. Tames beasts of all sorts. African queen. Soul companion. The sexiest woman on the planet. Her gift to me: opening of hearts beyond and against cliches. Her healing energy.

T. He. Asia. Works for the last remaining deity on the planet. My connection to Holliness. The aura size of his troubled country. His gift to me: purity of his soul. Motorbike trips through heaven and shy poetry reading sessions. The purest soul I have ever known.

S. She. Europe. The charger. One of the most firecely loyal people I have ever known. Best memory: my hair in flames (literally - but no need to describe in detail), and her expression. And her singing half way through Siberia. Her gift to me: the gift of unconditional trust.

S. He. Asia. If I am direct, he is me X 1,000. The master thought provoker, the challenger of the status quo. Quite possibly one of the smartest people currently occuping the planet. His gift to me: challenging me, over and again, and teaching me how to push my own boundaries even further than I thought possible. Teaching me that templates are important, and how to use them. Holding my hand through the process. Gift of true exchange, communication and above all, insight.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

The riddle


I confess: I go back to the riddle, time and again, mesmerized. Of course I know there are no answers. But the riddle is necessary. Any seemingly logical explanations are a mere afterthought-- even the puzzle guru Sam Loyd couldn’t help Lewis Carroll explain to his readers, why, after all, is a raven like a writing desk.

It is the unparallel possibilities that the riddle provides. It is what happens in that small space between hardly and almost, that is invaluable. I linger in there, squashed within that tiny space… feeling at home, lulled to a state of concord between my calm and my enchanted self, between the girl and the woman.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

The fuel: chiaroscuro in the making

The mixture and the octane levels, as someone put it - seemingly irrelevant and often neglected...but make all the difference between the falls. Here, a tiny little epruveta ( I love the word as is - why abuse in translation) to store just a few elements of the fuel...along with the MBTI and the DNK (shared with Sis, and the perpetuum mobile code).

Indeed, I am a lousy writer but I paint and play well. Here, for Sis, a tiny chiaroscuro that we shared and loved. Happy birthday!

Budim je zbog sunca koje objasnjava sebe biljkama
zbog neba razapetog izmedju prstiju
budim je zbog reci koje peku grlo, volim je usima
treba ici do kraja sveta i naci rosu na travi
budim je zbog dalekih stvari koje lice na ove ovde
zbog ljudi koji bez cela i imena prolaze ulicom
zbog anonimnih reci, trgova
(Branko Miljkovic 1934 - 1961)


昔者莊周夢為蝴蝶,栩栩然蝴蝶也,自喻適志與,不知周也。俄然覺,則蘧蘧然周也。不知周之夢為蝴蝶與,蝴蝶之夢為周與?周與蝴蝶則必有分矣。此之謂物化
(Zhuang Zi 369 BC - 286 BC)

...Rappelle-toi cela Barbara
Et ne m'en veux pas si je te tutoie
Je dis tu a tous ceux que j'aime
Meme si je ne les ai vus qu'une seule fois
Je dis tu a tous ceux qui s'aiment
Meme si je ne les connais pas
Rappelle-toi Barbara
N'oublie pas...
(Jacques Prévert 1900 - 1977)


Bot уж вечер. Роса блестит на крапиве.
Я стою у дороги, прислонившись к иве.
От луны свет большой прямо на нашу крышу.
Где-то песнь соловья вдалеке я слышу.
Хорошо и тепло, как зимой у печки.
И берёзы стоят, как большие свечки.
(Сергей Есенин 1895 – 1925)

We sit in this courtyard, two forms,
Shadow outlines with one soul,
Bird sound, leaf moving, early evening star
Fragrant damp, and the sweet
Sickle curve of moon, you and I in a round
Unsolved idling in the garden-beauty detail
The raucous parrots laugh, and we laugh inside laughter
The two of us on a bench in Konya, yet
Amazingly in Khorasan and Iraq as well
Friends abiding this form
Yet also in another frame outside of time,
you and I
(Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rumi 13th Century)