Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?

You think you own whatever land you land on
The earth is just a dead thing you can claim
But I know every rock and tree and creature
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name.


You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew, you never knew.

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?


Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest
Come taste the sun sweet berries of the earth
Come roll in all the reaches all around you
And for once never wonder what they're worth.

The rainstorms and the rivers are my brothers
The otter and heron are my friends
And we are all conned to each other
In a circle, in a hoop that never ends.


How high can sycamore grow?
If you cut it down, then you'll never know.
And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon

For whether we are white or copper-skinned
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountain
Need to paint with all the colors of the wind
Need to paint with all the colors of the wind.


You can own the earth and still,
All you own is earth until
You can paint with all the colors of the wind...

(Walt Disney's "Pocahontas" - Colors of the wind)

Apusul de soare din seara asta mi-a adus in minte acest cantec extraordinar. Tuturor celor ce hoinariti pe aceasta carare, va multumesc, o noapte buna!

Tonight's sunset remembered me this beautiful song. To all of you strolling on this trail, thank you and have a good night!

Soapte de departe / Whispers from afar

Galben aprins a bucurie. Muzica. Vechi radacini din Banatul sarbesc. Margarete in vant... Si mama. Celebrare a soarelui. Celebrare a vietii. Si Aide Jano...

Bright yellow of happiness. Music. Old roots from Serbian Banat. Daisies in the wind... And my mother. Solar celebration. Life celebration. And Aide Jano...

Hara - Aide jano

Semne din batrani / Ancient forecast

Cand se iveste luna, daca e galbina - e a vreme buna, iar daca e rosie - e a vant.
Cand paiangenul isi intinde panza - e semn a vreme buna si fara vant, iar cand "isi taraie panza" - o aduna - e semn de vreme rea si cu vant.
(Comoara satelor, Anul I, Ianuarie 1923)

In concluzie, inca o zi senina si fierbinte....

If the moon is yellow when it rises - the weather will be fair, and if she is red - it will be windy.
When the spider is reeling his web - it's a sign of good weather, without wind, and when he's bringing it together - then it's a sign of bad weather and wind.
(The Villages' treasure, First Year, January 1923)

Conclusively another sunny, hot day....

Intelesuri ascunse / Hidden meanings

Simboluri.
Unele, mai simple, ne vorbesc tuturor deopotriva.
Altele, mai complexe, isi soptesc tainele doar acelora pregatiti sa le primeasca intelepciunea.

Simbolul de mai jos l-am descoperit intr-un articol despre vechi arhetipuri geto-dace si, se pare, se afla sculptat pe poarta sanctuarului de la Sarmizegetusa. Nu i-am deslusit inca soapta, dar am simtit nevoia sa-l reproduc si sa-l dau mai departe...
Pana acum, este cea mai dificila broderie la care am lucrat. Nu datorita complexitatii punctelor de cusatura folosite sau a detaliilor migaloase, ci pentru simplul fapt ca n-am putut coase la ea decat in anumite zile sau momente ale zilei. Si astfel, nu de putine ori, a devenit obositor si dificil sa continuu. Nu am o explicatie pentru asta, insa acum ca e gata, am o mare bucurie ca am incheiat!

Symbols.

Some, simpler, speak to us equally.

Others, more complex, whisper their secrets only to those ready to receive their wisdom. 

I discovered the symbol above in an article I read about Dacian ancient archetypes and, apparently, it's carved on the gate of Sarmizegetusa sanctuary. I haven't managed to understand its whisper yet, but I felt the need to reproduce it and pass it on... 

So far, it's the most difficult embroidery I've made. Not because of the complexity of the stitches I used or the niggling details, but because I could only sew in some days or parts of the day. Thus, pretty often, became hard and weary to continue doing it. I have no explanation for this, but now that's ready, I feel a great joy I've finished it!

simbolul original / the original symbol

foto: http://iulianandrei.wordpress.com/2011/01/11/arhetipuri-simboluri-din-preistoria-noastra/

Orgolii mari, suflete mici si probleme marunte.

Cand eram copil, imi amintesc cum unii batranii din vecini aveau o deosebita preocupare si grija pentru spatiile verzi din jurul blocului. Le curatau periodic, aparandu-le aproape cu ferocitate, de parca farama de verde reusea sa-i mentina inca tineri, tinand la distanta sfarsitul firesc, iminent. Dar noi, copii crescuti intre betoane, cu setea de verde nemarginit permanent nesatisfacuta, incalcam deseori conventia adoptata tacit: “nu va jucati pe iarba!” Caci nu-i asa, ce poate fi mai placut decat sa joci capra sau lapte gros pe iarba, nu pe maidan, ba chiar sa-ti testezi abilitatile atletice intr-o proba incropita ad-hoc, de sarit garduri…verzi?

De atunci, lucrurile nu s-au schimbat prea mult, remarc. Probabil fiecare strada, fiecare bloc isi are batranii sai ce pretuiesc mai presus decat orice, verdeata. Si n-ar fi nimic rau in asta, de n-ar reactiona atat de brutal si de bolovanos fata de cei ce-ncalca regulile stabilite - copiii, etichetati din start ca “needucati”.

Dupa patru zile fierbinti, ploaia de ieri si vantul racoros au scos din case la joaca,  putinii copii ce locuiesc in bloc. Veselie mare, strigate, chiote. O partida de fotbal, intre doua reprize de “tara, tara, vrem ostasi”. Invariabil, batrana apare in geam scuipand invective urate. Rusinati, copiii de opresc si se indeparteaza, imprastiati de brusca amputare a bucuriei. In scurt timp, un baiat si-o fata, insotiti presupun de mama lor, isi fac aparitia in dreptul geamului batranei, declansand furtuna. Circul capata proportii halucinante, de la acuzatii cu tenta sexuala, pana la amenintari de rupt picioare sau chemat politia. Strada rasuna strident, ambele femei fiind de neoprit, in ciuda rugamintilor stinse ale baiatului “mama, las-o in pace!...” , “mama, hai sa mergem!...”

Vecinii apar rand pe rand in ferestre, urmarind cu interes deznodamantul. Furtuna se sfarseste la fel de brusc precum a inceput, femeia furioasa plecand incadrata de cei doi copii, vizibil stanjeniti de atentia colectiva. Disparand dupa coltul blocului, o aud razand cu pofta : “e dusa cu capul aia, dar i-am zis eu cateva! daca o prind pe-afara, o sa-i sparg capul…”

In linistea asternuta in urma-le, mierla isi continua detasat trilurile. Cine sa i le mai auda?...