It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your hearts longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the center of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
Yes.

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the center of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

And yet love exists
And yet curse exists
I let the world know
I love, I have faith, I’m afraid.

And yet wakefulness is
And yet we die repeatedly
And yet I believe in soul mate
And yet something has changed.

Demands from the world I don’t have,
A bed, darkness and you.
We step into nameless love,
The shiver like thunder struck.

World’s engines are shut,
Networks on roads have fallen,
A great desert lies around.
Wake them with a kiss, you!

Now I declare you goddess,
I myself I feel god.
Carry the world on, woman,
With children on my name.

Outside swarm darknesses
Here we are luminous.
Quarrel between religions
Blaming each other the same.

You and love, both exist
And death exists in love.
I like you more when you are sad
Sadness, in fact, is yours.

Knees I bow on the floors,
I tilt my head on the sky,
You are in my powers now
Although inquisitions want you.

My words are twisted received,
I return to the first syllable.
I throw down the forest over you:
“Goodbye, … I mean, stay!”

And yet love exists
And yet curse exists
I let the world know
I love, I have faith, I’m afraid.

translated from Romanian language by Daniela Toma

I pray that I always remember this:
I am a speck in Your breath flow.
I know this.
I feel flowing inside Your heart as spirit
And I feel flowing out as matter. And again, back in …
But I am a content speck.
I allow myself to float in Your breath.
There is nothing I need to do but know You …
… And Love You!  Loving You is eternal Life.
I wonder what is expecting me around the bent …
I pray that I always remember this!

Today you wish to be just the two of us.

Silently, tightly you call for me

In silence of trees.

Forest you dressed

With colors of fire and a golden light.

Today you wish to be only us alone

Your sadness always catches me

Unprepared.

You wish to be material for only one day,

Whistling chilliness to give you a shiver,

In your hand to crush a most happy leaf,

With your steps to raise the carpet of the forest,

Moist earth and mushrooms to invade your being,

Kneeling at master tree’s roots,

Praying to taste leaves’ glorious death.

But you are like the Star Prince or like the Man on the Moon

Time and shape taking is forbidden for you

And you cry with cold and ephemeral globes

On the shoulder of light of my soul.

You remember I am a mortal

Only a traveler mortal

Who knows you and adores you.

And, therefore,  I invite you, Beloved,

To feel with my senses

The sweet sadness of yet another surrendered autumn.

The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

- Little Prince, can you love a man as you love a flower?

- Of course, people are like flowers …

- What is the meaning of “to love”?

- Admiration, appreciation of presence, desire to provide joy, contentment, peace, adventure …

- Do we need words in love?

- Very few, very rarely … true feelings although invisible, they can show nevertheless …

- Do we need to touch in love?

- Not intentionally, but it is lovely when it happens … like accidentally …

- Is it important to listen in love?

- Yes, but not the words, not their meaning. We are listening for the music … to find where from the words are coming.

- Is sacrifice needed in love?

- When you joyfully offer everything you have and everything you are, can this be called sacrifice? It is called gift. Love implies giving. As little as a grain if you hold back for yourself, of what use could it be?

- You know how to love beautifully, Little Prince!

- Is there any other way? How do people on Terra love?

- People see, like what they see, then they want to own. They want to claim property of what they like, to take it and hold it locked in their homes where only they can look at it and touch it as they please.  They are capable of killing for this. People talk a lot and ask of their beloved to change according to their ideas. Then, they get bored and want another.

- How strange to call this love!

- How should they call it?

- I don’t know … I don’t have to many words …

You wish to remain hidden, unseen, I understand this now.

I don’t need to see any longer, to know that you are always near.

Instead I seek traces now

of your thought, of your hand gesture, of your steps, …

In a cloud shaped like a dolphin,

In the many nuances of color green,

In the mystery of season transformation,

In the words of a wise child,

In the eyes of a passing stranger,

In the voice of a street artist …

In my own body, my voice, my thoughts, my heartbeat, my breath …

Yes, I am now the one who knows that All that is … is You!

So remain hidden … it is more beautiful this way.

Ario was a curious little girl with chestnut color eyes. Her family moved into a new house this winter.
- Mother, we have a tree in our backyard! Ario shouted, her eyes glowing of joy.
- It’s an apple tree, her mom said smiling.
- An apple tree! An apple tree! Its branches are almost touching the window of my bedroom …
Soon, the snow melted and the sun showed its powers with more and more confidence. Spring approached, with smells of wet earth and with green fresh grass blades.

Ario loved her new bedroom, especially its window. It was big and low enough to sit on its edge, perfect for looking outside. But she never just looked outside. She always looked at a particular spot on a particular branch of the very special apple tree standing in front of her window. She sometimes wondered how can someone stand for so long without getting tired. Her favorite thing to look at was a little apple flower bud.
It wasn’t even opened yet. But that was the beauty of it. Ario wanted to see the grand moment of blossoming. She was watching it whenever she had nothing important to do like going to school, or doing homework, or brushing her teeth.
- You will catch a cold, Ario, her mother said, wrapping a soft warm blanket around little girl’s shoulders.
- Mother, how long until it opens?
- I don’t know. Every tree is different. Every bud is different.
- Why?
- It’s more fun that way, I guess.
Ario always went to sleep thinking of her favorite bud. She tried to imagine whether it will be all white or maybe will have some pink on the edges.
Some days, the sun was up shinning brightly on the clear blue sky. Other days, it rained and rained as if it was raining forever. At times, the wind was so strong that Ario was scared her little bud might get hurt or even pulled of the branch. But her bud was stronger than all the winds.

Ario watched the bud in the morning, before going to school. As soon as she came back from school, she ran upstairs in her room to see if anything happened. She did her homework, had dinner, put on her pajama and brush her teeth. She watched it again in the evening before going to bed.
This particular night she felt different. She wanted to stay up through the night to watch her apple bud in the moonlight.
- Ario, you must be very sleepy now, her mother said. It’s time for bed.
- Ten more minutes, mother. Please! Ario begged.
- All right! Ten minutes.
In five minutes mother was back. She gently picked up her little sleepy flower from the chair by the window and set her nicely in her bed. She had one look outside the window and smiled.

In was a glorious Sunday morning. The sun was shinning happily on Ario’s face, tickling her nose and eyelashes. Little birds were singing in the tree. A soft sweet breeze blew inside Ario’s bedroom, dancing with the curtains. Ario opened her eyes slowly. She stretched her arms and feet and got up.
When mother entered into her bedroom, Ario was sitting in her chair, by the window, with her face buried in her palms. She was crying.
- I missed it, mother. I missed the moment.
Mother looked outside and took a long deep breath. The air was fresh and the entire apple tree was in flower.
- Isn’t it simply beautiful? Mother asked.
Ario stopped crying and raised her wet face. Indeed, everything was beautiful: the clear sky, the sun, the birds, the sweet warm breeze and especially the blossoming apple-tree.
- It’s amazing, she answered softly, wiping her tears away.

Later, at breakfast, Mother had a surprise for Ario. She pulled a camera out of a drawer and hand it to her daughter. Ario turned it on and …  Incredible! There was a video of her dear bud slowly opening up into the night. Ario jumped up and gave her mother a big and warm hug. She remembered all the moments she watched her bud … in the sun, in the rain, at night … Tears of joy fell down her chicks.
- Imagine your little apple flower turning into a beautiful apple, her mother said.
Ario stood still. She never thought of that. She thought this was it. The end. All she ever dreamed about was an apple flower. But there was more. So much more … to see, and wait for, and dream about …

They simply happen.

Breath happens.

Heartbeat happens.

Sun shines.

Rain falls.

Wind blows.

A Smile.

A tear in the eye.

A rock by the road.

A rose in a glass.

A song and a voice.

Cool touch of the ice.

Taste of warm pear.

Round green hills.

Endless blue sky.

Mountain so high.

Sad saying “good-by”.

Cream on baby nose.

Laughter … and pose.

Life is simple.

Enjoy daily miracles.

What filtered through today though … “memento mori” (remember you’ll die)! No matter what we think, no matter what we do, we commonly choose to forget that this life we were given as a gift is in fact, finite. The consequences of this choice are undoubtedly harmful to us: procrastinating doing the stuff we truly love. Instead, we do what we think is expected of us. And, guess what! Nobody is there to take the blame for that. “I didn’t tell you to do that.” we’ll hear. It’s all a big misunderstanding. Very big misunderstanding, one that rids us of many precious hours or days or months or years of our one and only LIFE.

Memento mori means do it NOW. Do now the thing that you feel like doing, the thing that makes you feel alive, the thing that Life Itself is begging of you to do. What if we accept the imminence of death as we accept the night falling as the sun goes down? Suddenly, life is not to be taken lightly. Tic-tac, tic-tac, tic-tac! “Act now!” “Rest now!” “Eat now!” Life knows the natural rhythms of our bodies.

I say to myself in the morning: “Life is here. Thank you for this new last day of my life. I have only 14 or 16 hours to live. What do I do to make the most of them?” With this attitude we keep our focus on Life while we ignore (not without suffering) all that has nothing to do with Life (which, shockingly, is an awfully lot). “What is alive or true here now?” I ask myself. Most of the time is nothing. I suffer because I wished there were. When it is, then you feel it. Is like a most gentle yet decided flowing river that pulls you in a certain direction. How lucky for those who allow themselves to be taken, with little or no (mental, rational) resistance!  Remember to trust your inner senses (intuition). They don’t lie. When there is Life, you feel at ease, at peace inside, even when is quite stormy outside.

I am not concerned with old and forgotten dreams. I have no “Bucket’s list”. Life is ever fresh, ever surprising, always on time, bursting with ingenuity. I’d feel so stupid to put all that aside for some old ideas that got stuck in my brain. Rather, I feel so curious about what else new is life going to offer me today.

Yesterday, it offered me a trip to a restaurant in the forest, meeting a true free spirited girl who likes to walk in mud and water, some beautiful rainy and sunny weather to breathe in and capture on photo, and many other moments that I am too lazy to describe in writing or I simply forgot.

Today, life took me to a funeral, having me to drive forty kilometers through green forests and planted fields on an uneven road with many holes. All these for saying good bye to my father’s dear friend and learn something new about living.

I get the feeling Life doesn’t waste any second!