Music makes the people come together

Having been quite busy lately, I haven't got much time to get back on the blog. To fill up the gap, I'm publishing this quickly-made video just to show you what's been on my mind - I agree, I need a break! In my spare time I've been practising on my new guitar, it feels so good to "be back". So my thoughts went back to highschool times - hence the need to present you this Spanish classical guitar song, sung by me and my ex guitar professor.  Enjoy! PS: the audio is pretty bad cause it's registered with an old mp3 player, and I have to admit that the video is not that good either...

Welcome to the "past" or about how all things are relative

Yesterday night we celebrated Nowruz, the Persian New Year. Thanks to my Iranian flatmates, I enjoyed an authentic Persian experience, whose impact kept me going all day long, despite the short night. There were both Iranians and Europeans in the group (Italians, Romanians and Spanish people) and it was really funny to notice the wonder of the latter faced to the Persian New Year traditions. Some of the funniest aspects was celebrating the arrival of the New Year - 1390, by the way - at precisely 12.20 a.m. (the hour is calculated every year according to their sharp solar calendar), without popping a bottle of champagne  and with no fireworks (that should remind us that initially even our New Year meant more than this). The photo from above illustrates a small "shrine" composed by 7 objects whose names start with "s" and they all symbolize positive concepts such as "life", "health","prosperity" etc. Below there is a sample of the live music I personally enjoyed last night.

Only

If eyes were only lens,

Rubbish would be only rubbish

Death would mean only absence

Birthdays would be only regular days in the calendar

History would mean only the past.


If eyes were only lens,

Admiring would mean only observing

Joy would be replaced by efficiency

Friends would be only constant presences

In our lives.

Mille anime in un corpo

Stamani stavo facendo colazione in un bar del centro di Roma, godendomi la lettura del libro "Il lupo della steppa" e la musica che si sentiva in sottofondo. Ho avuto una specie di liberazione, una incredibile sensazione in cui la mia anima si sentiva viziata da tutte le cose che mi circondavano e completamente grata delle bellissime cose che mi poteva transmettere, ed io, come se fossi separata dalla mia anima, accoglievo tutti quei sentimenti puri con tanta avidità. Penso che non esista un modo migliore per descrivervi come mi sentivo, sennò allegandovi proprio i pezzi di musica e testo che mi hanno provocato questo stato di pura gioia. Provate a leggere il testo ascoltando la canzone che io stesso ascoltavo in quel momento, dalla radio che si sentiva nel bar. (Meglio senza guardare il video...)

"I santi: ecco i veri uomini, i fratelli minori del Redentore. Verso di loro camminiamo per tutta la vita, con ogni buona azione, con ogni pensiero coraggioso, con ogni affetto. La comunione dei santi fu rappresentata in altri tempi dai pittori entro un cielo dorato, radioso e sereno; non è se non ciò che poco fa ho chiamato "eternità". E' il regno al di là del tempo e della parvenza. Quello è il luogo nostro, quella la nostra patria, là tende il nostro cuore, caro lupo della steppa, e perciò abbiamo il desiderio di morire. (...) Ci sono molti santi che furono prima gran peccatori, anche il peccato può essere una via verso la santità, anche il peccato e il vizio. (...) Pensa, Harry, attraverso quante porcherie e scempiaggini dobbiamo passare per arrivare a casa! E non abbiamo nessuno che ci guidi, unica nostra guida è la nostalgia."
Aveva pronunciato queste ultime parole a voce bassissima e ora si fece silenzio nella stanza; il sole stava per tramontare e faceva brillare le impressioni dorate sul dorso dei miei libri. Presi fra le mani la testa di Erminia, la baciai sulla fronte e premetti la guancia contro la sua, fraternamente, e così restammo alcuni istanti. Avrei voluto rimanere così e non uscire. Ma per  quella notte, l'ultima prima del grande ballo, avevo un appuntamento con Maria. 
Recandomi da lei non pensavo però affatto a Maria, ma soltanto alle parole di Erminia. Quelli non erano forse pensieri suoi, ma miei, e lei, chiaroveggente com'era, li aveva decifrati e respirati e me li ridava in forma nuova e viva. In quei momenti le ero particolarmente grato di aver formulato il pensiero dell'eternità. Ne avevo bisogno, senza di esso non potevo vivere, non potevo morire. L'amica, la mia maestra di danze, mi aveva dunque ridato l'al di là, il mondo sacro e senza tempo; il mondo del valore perpetuo, della divina sostanza. (Hermann Hesse, "Il lupo della steppa").

Layers of history

Don't put too much weight on my previous thoughts about work (although I do mean to say what I've just said)..."Roma è Roma", and living here can be as if you lived in a small bottle which contains the essence of the entire South-European history...My heart feels overwhelmed everytime I walk on the streets which are (almost literally) full of history. There is Viale del Muro Torto, where they say they used to bury the prostitutes who didn't deserve to be buried under the sacred land of the Catholic Church. There are buildings who have undergone so many alterations, that you can actually see a layer coming after another one, belonging to a different age...And there you are, a new person in the middle of an old city; a transitory presence in an everlasting world.

Why work can make us ugly - Part II

During the past 2 working days I have thought about why do I feel like this about work and how can I better explain this and, to my surprise, no great answer has come up to me yet. However, this feeling has sticked to me and for the moment I can only get rid of it during lunch breaks, over a cup of coffee with some colleague.
This should not get me worried, since all the other work colleagues who are more or less in the same position as I am keep complaining about something. I could resume that it is either an organisational problem of the company, or an issue which pertains to the current occupational difficulties of young graduates.
Hmm...as I said, no great answer has come up to me yet. I still think that this is my problem (or at least in my selfish point of view, I want to see it this way because I can only focus on my issues), since all the others seem so enthusiastic about their status and they try to feel more important by adjusting their tone of voice or their "busy look". Maybe I'm just not cut out for this and I can feel happy only when I am nurturing myself with great dreams about future horizons, etc. Whenever I reach the most-wanted horizon, I feel unsatisfied and I feel the need to go further.
Today, on my way back home a driving nun gave me way to pass and smiled very warmly from the back of the car window. Her smile seemed so hearty and open, I wonder if that smile was her true nature, or simply a smile generated by her nunlikeness.

Why work can make us ugly

So, I've started my new job almost 6 weeks ago. I was so eager about it and happy to stop wasting my time and my youth on doing nothing, and now finally the change has come. I can be the protagonist of my own career, I interact with people daily and I can even go to work by foot, which is a gift from heaven in a large city like Rome. I am even lucky to have found a good job with good perspectives, and all this after only one week of job hunting.
This is not meant to be a complain, nor is it a pessimistic thought. You might think (and you are probably right) that this is a personal battle between Raluca-child and Raluca-grown-up. And in this moment, Raluca-child is definitely winning.
In my attempt to explain how I feel, I could only be satisfied by this statement: work makes us ugly. I'm not able to perfectly defend this "thesis", but I simply have the impression every day that regular schedules are fastening our growing old and that, in almost every type of work, there is a boring part which tends to form our brain according to certain patterns which are totally wrong and  harmful on the long term. So when I say ugly, I think I mean with no brightness and deprived of our youthful ideals. Luckily, I haven't got that far yet and I will hold on to my ideals, I think that even Raluca the grown-up will. But I still don't get why people get suddenly jealous in the work environment, why some act as rivals even when there is no competition at all and why we have to always write down the "bla bla", even if it's become a given fact by now. I will think of this tomorrow at work and hopefully come up with some soothing answers.