I have always wanted to visit India during Holi, the Hindu spring festival where colored powders are thrown at passer-by with a jubilance verging on mania. The force of the act, covering someone–a lover, a friend, a stranger–with one gesture resonates with me. I had a similar experience once in Phonm Penh, Cambodia during Full Moon celebrations where white powder is used. Young girls, normally shy, would run up and smear my cheeks with it, locking eyes joyfully with mine as they did so.
And yet, we have these types of interactions all the time, every day. We are constantly moving amongst others and they too leave their marks on us, on our eyes, our hearts, albeit invisibly. How many times have I come home from a walk with Ben in foul mood because another dog tried to attack him or conversely, buoyant after having witnessed the small act of a father lifting his giggling daughter into his arms for a kiss?
Like a pinball in the machine, I know that I am too sensitive, too susceptible to these moments but prefer it than to be utterly closed off. I can’t stop looking even if sometimes I see more than I would like–thoughts, hopes and deceptions. Nor can I stop thinking about the seemingly random comings and goings in our lives. Why we invite certain people to be friends, to come into our private circle at certain points rather than others. And how we know when to let them drift away. Because they will inevitably, laisse des traces. And sometimes, unfortunately, wounds. It takes courage to open our hearts.
Digging down a little deeper, I have become increasingly aware of how flexible our personalities are, those outer traces of our inner spirit. I might be nearly unrecognizable to some of my companions of years gone by. How would I see them now and they me? For we see what we want to, we pick and choose and turn a blind eye. Would we still find the desire to be a part of each other’s lives? Continuity in relationships can be a blessing as it necessitates that a certain flexibility is built in, one that involves seeing beyond personality and the temporary swoosh of life. Being fairly nomadic, I haven’t experienced that type of long-standing connection as much as many but that doesn’t prevent me from appreciating it when I do.
We are heading into winter, so maybe that is why I am wondering about what remains, what is solid inside us while all around me the leaves are falling from the trees. A real autumn, finally. Certainly so in the golden light writing secrets in the sky, running over rooftops, pressing on upturned faces that are all too eager to inhale the last of its warmth. A contact as certain as the powders of Holi. And when those revellers return home and wash off the vibrant colors, what traces remain? Everyday we bump along, as day follows night and season follows season, finding our way, through others and ourselves, clutching the cord of life that connects us.
Virginia, I am speechless. Just goes to further the point that age and wisdom do not always go hand in hand. Can you imagine what an incredible world this would be if our youth all over the world thought similarly? If we all thought so? What an amazing school–I love that the bush chapel is in the middle of a kangaroo paddock as you knew I would. I received a press release from Qatar Airways today–flights to Australia from Paris from 1100€…very tempting indeed! Thank you so much for taking the time to come back and respond further. Means so much to me. Bisous.
And my beautiful Contessa, why are you worried? Because of the comment? No, no–it was a bit of a bummer to read that first thing on my blog anniversary but that was all. I need to hear more about what you are cooking these days! I need inspiration!
Glamour Drops has a winning comment.I'm a littled worried about you,,,,,,,,,you okay?
Ignore that comment that left no name!
You write so beautifully!This post was deep!
Back again, as promised. Actually, I have just returned from an early morning "farewell" breakfast service at my daughter's school, for she is in the final year of school and is about to embark upon exams, so I am in a particular mood to ponder your thoughts here.
You would love and approve of her school, I suspect, as the "service" was in a bush chapel – (which is just a clearing amongst the gum trees, in a paddock of kangaroos) – and the ceremony was entirely a reflection by the students on what friendships are.
And each of them pretty much echoed what you have written here, would you believe it? Along the lines of… we are who we are largely because we are touched by those whom we meet in life and choose to be our friends. So while it is our choice as to who we befriend, it is their influence and thoughts which rub off and enhance the journey. And yes, sometimes it doesn't go so well, and sometimes there is more pain than pleasure, but it doesn't, and shouldn't, stop us from reaching out again. For otherwise, what is the point of life, if not to grow? Virginia xx