The Symbolic Life – the great relief – Dateline Feb. 15, 2012

Author: ; Published: Mar 11, 2012; Category: Philosophical Musings, the Symbolic Life; Tags: None; No Comments

3RD ATTACK

El gran relax

 

El dilluns passat em van fer una ressonància magnètica. La veritat tot va ser molt relaxant. Em van dir que els resultats estarien al dia seguent.

Es clar, al dia seguent, els resultats no estaven preparats. Estavem tranquils. Ja sortiran.

El dimecres al vespre ja estavem preparats per anar a dormir i sentim un “ring-ring” de l’Skype i el Ron diu: “l’oncoòeg m’està trucant”.

En aquell moment em vaig sentir atacada per les cagarrines. Directa al WC, ja m’estava preparant per anar al cementiri. De veritat. Vestida para ir al cementerio. On mes podia anar? En la meva imaginacio, l’oncòleg havia llegit els resultats i ens trucava urgentment per dir-nos:  EL PITJOR!!!!

 Des del WC amb tota la diarrea, sentola veu del metge tot relaxat…. dient-li al Ron: “ho sento estava intentant comunicar-me amb la meva filla que esta al DF i m’he equivocat i he punxat el vostre numero……

 La cagada mes feliç de la meva vida…….

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The 3rd ATTACK

The big relief

 Last Monday I had a CAT-scan.  The truth was that it was very relaxing. I was told that the results would be available the next day. OK.

Of course the next day, the results were not ready. We were calm and we could wait.

On Wednesday evening we were ready to go to sleep and  I heard a “ring-ring” comimg from Skype and Ron said: “the oncologist is  calling me.” At that moment I felt attacked by an overwhelming desire to go to the toilet. I sat down on the toilet and I prepared myself to go to the cemetery. Dressed to go to the cemetery. Where else could I go?

In my imagination, the oncologist had read the results and he called us urgently to tell us THE WORST!

 From the toilet I heard the voice of the oncologist, in a  relaxed  voice…. saying to Ron:

 Oh, Ron… I’m sorry… I was trying to call my daughter, who is in Mexico City, and I clicked the wrong Skype entry and  called you.

 t was he happiest shit of my life …….

The Symbolic Life – 2nd attack, the war of the cells… dateline Feb 12, 2012

Author: ; Published: Mar 11, 2012; Category: Philosophical Musings, the Symbolic Life; Tags: None; No Comments

 

La guerra de las cèl.lules del Cancer!!!!!!

 

La nit de Sant Valentí.

Aquella nit ja estava al llit. Sentia un dolor a la boca de l’estomac….. no hi havia manera de trobar cap mena de relaxació.

El cap es va començar a muntar la seva pel.lícula.

Realment vaig sentir a l’interior del meu cos, la guerra de les cèl.lules…. les cèl.lules bones batallant amb les ceèl.lules del cancer…

Es  curiós perque aquestes no són el meu tipus d’imatges. No és el meu llenguatge el de “l’agressiva batalla del cancer… “ més aviat tot el contrari. El que realment crec és que les cèl.lules estan molt confoses, no saben què fer i comencen a créixer descontroladament.

- Quina “casualitat” la mateixa estructura que la nostra famosa “crisi”. Créixer descontrolodament? Per a què? -

La batalla va durar bastant.  Tenia dolor i no podia calmar-me……..Sembla que, finalment, vaig trobar un petit descans. No ho recordo massa bé. Però el dolor va desaparéixer.

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Al cap d’una estona…… tot va començar a aclarir-se per sí mateix……

“La famosa batalla” havíen estat set condemnades mongetes que havíen estat ballant a una sopa boníssima que una amiga em va portar i no havíen estat ben cuinades…..   unes mongetes blanques no ben cuinades:…. això si que pot matar-te.

 

Es que aqui la gent no sap cuinar mongetes com ho fem al Maresme, a Catalunya.

Jo, de mongetes, n’he menjat moltes a la meva vida. I allà, a més de tenir-les tot lo dia amb aigua, les fem bullir tres vegades. Les netegem,  les llencem a l’aigua i tornem-hi amb aigua nova i freda……i les portem al bull un altre cop.

I aqui les tiren  a la sopa………..només les tenen en remull el dia abans……..

2ND ATTACK

The war of the cancer cells !!

 

Valentine’s night.

That night I was in bed. I felt a strong pain in the pit of my stomach ….. there was no way to find relaxation.

My head started to create a movie: good cells fighting the cancer cells …

It was strange because this is not my kind of image. My language is not aggressive in the battle of cancer … rather,  the opposite. What I think is that the cancer cells are very confused, they do not know how to be normal, and they started to grow out of control. This is exactly the sama structure that our famous “economic crisis” …to grow out of control? for what? to go where?

I had pain and couldn’t calm myself ……..

But then finally, I found a little break…. but I don’t remember how I calmed myself.

 

The famous battle finally became  clear:  seven white beans that had been swimming in a wonderful soup that a friend cooked … but the beans had not been well cooked ….. And my God, some not well cooked white beans can kill you.

 

Here, some people don’t know how we cook beans in el Maresme (Catalunya).

I ate a lot of beans in my life. And there, in addition to soaking them all day in water, we boil them three times.  After each boil, we throw out the water, rinse them and fill the pot again with cold water.

 

And, here people just throw white beans in the soup without pre-cooking them…

The Symbolic Life – 1st attack – dateline Feb 11, 2012

Author: ; Published: Mar 2, 2012; Category: Philosophical Musings, the Symbolic Life; Tags: None; No Comments

1st attack

 

Tot anava bé. Jo estava en aquest estat de “felicitat i concentrada energia on estic vivint aquests dies”….

Inclús al matí havia notat com de la ferida havia sortit espontaneament aigua clara que vaig sentir que em corria per tot el coll. Ho vaig notar com una benedicció. I és clar: era el trencament d’aigues que anunciaven el meu nou naixement …….

De tota manera, sentia que havíem de trucar al metge per dir-li-ho. Aixi ho vam fer i vam anar a l’hospital. El Dr. Phil va tornar a cosir la ferida. No fos cas que s’escampés. Però tot va anar bé. i Vam poder tornar a casa de seguida.

 

Al vespre, eren cap allà les 9PM….. llavors si, que vaig entrar en un panic i vaig pensar:

Seré capaç de tornar a naixer o no?

Es clar aquesta és la pregunta, la tensió que es posa en evidència cada nou aniversari……

Va de vida? o va de mort? I, crec, que aquest és el motiu pel qual ho celebrem amb amics cada any. Pero com tots tenim la nostra vida, les nostres preocupacions…… es passa d’una manera, diguem-ne, més mundana….. però aquest any per a mi, era molt, molt real………

 

Al cap d’uns minuts el Ron amb el seu ”sagrat sentit comu” diu:

Espera, espera…… tú vas neixer a Barcelona a les 2:15 AM, no?

Doncs, ja has nascut perquè a BCN ja són les 6 del mati…..

 

A partir d’aquell moment tota l’energia va canviar… la casa es va omplir de bombolles i de relaxacio…. la bebe de 56 anys ja havia nascut………..

1st attack – dateline February 11th, 2012

 

Everything was going well. I was in this state of ” Focused happiness and energy”  where I live these days” ….

During the morning I noticed how clear water had spontaneously come from the wound (the incision for the brain surgery). I felt It running down my neck. It felt like a blessing. And of course: the breach of waters was announcing my new birth …….

However I felt that we had to call the doctor to tell him so. So we did and we went to the hospital. Dr. Phil (the neurosurgeon) returned to sew the wound again before it spread furhter apart. But all went well. We could go home again and I was safe..

 

In the evening, at around 9 PM …..  I got into a panic and I thought:

Will I be able to be born again or not? Am I going to make it?

Of course this is the question, the tension that reveals itself each birthday ……

Is this one about Life or is it about Death? And I think that this is why we celebrate it every year with friends. But as we all have our life, our concerns ……everything happens  in a more mundane way ….. but for me this year the question was very, very real ………

 

After a few a minutes……Ron asked,  “You were born in Barcelona at 2:15 AM, right?

Well, since you were born in Barcelona……. over there it’s  already 6 in the morning …..

Happy Birthday! You were already born, my dear!!!!!”

 

From that moment all the energy changed … the house was filled with champagne bubbles and relaxation …. the baby had been born 56 years ago ………..

First day at the 2011 Charleville festival

Author: ; Published: Sep 18, 2011; Category: Puppet festivals, Travel, Uncategorized; Tags: , ; No Comments

Bruja in the plaza with child

Curious – other than here in Charleville it often seems to us that puppets don’t exist, and here, with the city completely taken by puppeteers and puppets, it gives us the illusion that the world is filled with puppets. What a contrast: all or nothing.

On the first day of the Festival we saw Paul Zaloom, the only other puppeteer from the US, in a one-man show entitled “The Adventures of White Man”. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=03y_BRaeQCo) It was fantastic to see how one person, alone on the stage, with no “technique” and just using found objects could create an ironic, funny, critical story. He spoke in a mixture of English and fractured French – and he captivated the entire audience. He allowed himself to be taken by his imagination to very crazy places and put the audience in the same trance-like state. The audience then became more than just spectators… we were complicit in the event.

After such a great event, we ran through the streets to get to the next show, billed as “a monument to puppeteering, a masterpiece of puppets”. A play from Handspring Puppet Company from South Africa in the “Teatre Principal”, the largest and most “important” space of the town. We had to fight to stay awake.. boring and pretentious… and of course, all the “authorities” of the festival were present for this opening show. In puppets, it seems that once your troupe has a great reputation, you feel empowered to create BIG shows (and this show had a huge set that filled the stage) without any of the grace that puppets can carry.

One has to be very careful in the equilibrium between technique and aliveness.. technique can easily kill aliveness. When you see a show like this, everything is perfect, correct, but you are not moved or transformed, nothing has entered inside you… there has not been communion between you and the play… you were not part of the ritual and you leave the same as you entered. Technique cannot be just in machinery, it can be found in the acting and movement of the puppets, or in the beautiful way that actors and dancers move on the stage.

The plaza as always is filled with people, puppeteers, good humor, everybody enjoying the events.

 

On the road to Charleville

Author: ; Published: Sep 13, 2011; Category: Travel; Tags: None; No Comments

Before crossing the border between Spain and France, we almost missed a roadside sign announcing  a puppet museum – there aren’t so many of these in the world (we wish there were more), and we never expected to see one in this very small village in the Pyrenees. Amazingly, there was also a museum of popular religion in this town, Abizanda. 

In Spain everybody was outside until late at night. Drinking, talking, hot. After crossing the border through the tunnel and getting to France we experienced a complete change: nobody in the streets, everything closed. And cold. Where are the people? We see a little movie theater, we entered to see the latest Almodovar movie. The movie theater is full. The movie is a disappointment… none of the wonderful craziness that older Amodovar movies have.

The town is Oloron-Sainte Marie where Muriel Heineman, an American actress and theater director who died 2 years ago taught theater to the children of the Spanish Republicans refugees in France in 1947.

We headed in the direction of Bordeaux. Wine, cheese and Goya. Every time we stopped to have a picnic lunch, we found delightful small areas near rivers – old concrete tables in bucolic settings… and everywhere we looked, there was GREEN… and we are asking each other, “Do you remember why we came to live in the desert?”