Layers of Love, Page 2

  Hopefully, Madame La Fleur was there, also, to remind me, on a daily basis, I have to set more realistic goals... like: buying food cat, doing the cleaning, cooking, finding other clients to make even more money.

  Oh, yeah! I had a 10-year long dream at that time: 1. a great career to make my father proud; 2. a bigger house; 3. more cats; 4. a husband; 5. three or four kids, boys and girls. Good planning, wasn't it? Well, in all those days and nights, I aspired to something completely different, mostly dreaming about his blue gentle eyes. They gave me moments of sheer enthusiasm and moments when I told myself: “No way, Serena, Jazz festival would only last a summer!”

  Nevertheless, all those moments ended up the same way, in a glass of beercoff, dark beer mixed with coffee... [Warning! Do not try this at home! I am Serena, I behaved out of character.] Those miscible liquids can only make you think faster and get over... “things” entirely. [To be honest, at this point, I really want to leave the whole story behind.]

  You see, he more I talk to you, the more I realize my jazz player was nothing but a talented wanderer through life, having no career ambitions, ready to play any piano, in any small, insignificant city.

  Well, I guess my motivational speeches made him finally court me, ask me out to “visit” his place, but... by that time, I'd already waken up from this reverie.

  The plot is about to get more realistic, I'm afraid, and the trailer so much dull.

  Once upon a time, when folk were wise as they are nowadays, there lived a handsome young man, in his twenties, working as a jazz player in a small coffee bar, in Berlin, a far away city. Now, every evening he would take his funny crimson car to get to that obscure place, where a large bottle of cheap beer would await for him on his old piano.

  So, one evening, when there were not so many customers inside (as usual!), he met there a no longer plain woman in her twenties, wearing some fine, shinning, silver earrings and a dashing black dress. She had a rather straight reddish hair, and surprisingly for some, she came a long way, actually, she came from another country just to hear him play there a special song. And they ended up hugging...

  But... she did not drive off with him, that night. She almost turned into a laurel tree, and he started to wear her silver earring. I am kidding, of course! Please, don't worry, they all lived happily ever after.

  ***

  Your guess is right, my dear Reader, all people involved in this contemporary tale are still alive.

  Well, closing credits come now:

  Serena Maier: someone like Me

  Kai Vulcan: someone like Jim Claviazel

  Locations: Hermannstadt (in an office like the one from “Suits”), Berlin (in any common, small, jazz coffee bar you could think of).

  Stage Director: someone like Mikael Liebfried

  Serena's Status: What's on my mind

  “...and made them grasp themselves in silent prayer,

  to resurrect again into your heart.”

  As spirit from your spirit breathes through me,

  I seek redemption only in your true forgiveness.

  Bring me some crazy miracle, I beg you!

  A part of me is a sheer disbelief,

  not whole again and left behind into oblivion,

  a wise anonymous, a numb and fool Tammuz...

  You've left me struggle in a hell of lament,

  to fornicate the demons and feel cheap.

  You've left all memories to rot in silence,

  And used me as your pleasure's stupid toy.

  But I'll not longer scorn you for your selfish deeds.

  I've lost all blame. I've paid my price to see

  you are my... ladder-cross I have to climb for Passion,

  still pure beneath your vice, still true beneath deceit.

  My love,

  I should have told from beginning that:

  “Your whiteness won over the dimness of my hands...”

  Notes

  Here comes another mythological story I find quite revealing for us, no longer Aryan, but Semitic.

  Tammuz, an intelligent, hard-working shepherd fell in love with the powerful Ishtar, the Goddess of Love, Sex, Fertility and War.

  They got married shortly and seemed to be a match made in Heaven.

  However, one day, Ishtar, unexpectedly left home, slowly heading towards the Underworld, a horrible dark place.

  There was no apparent reason for this; Tammuz didn't seem to understand why his loving wife would ever choose such a path. “She is selfish! You gave Her everything! It's not your fault!” people around him would say, endlessly.

  He agreed, sat down on a chair, poured himself a cup of some fine barley beer and listened. To everyone, but not to his own whispers... They never lie! They were chanting something different:

  “there's always a cause hatching an effect,

  a cause that screwed the effect before,

  but the purest cause of all,

  the first in Timeline,

  is you, Tammuz, always you, Her love.”

  [No, he was so not ready to listen!]

  Abandoned, confused, tired, he could do nothing... but watch his lover pass through all the gates of Darkness... one at a time... each delusional, each worse than the rest.

  Until that odd moment came, when he closed his eyes in disgust, slightly raising one corner of his upper lip. “Better keep my head up today!” he thought, “Ah! it's going to rain, soon! Storm's coming! Stay in, all day! Such a bore!”

  Totally unaware of this danger, Ishtar kept descending... stripped of all her beauty, dignity and powers. She reached the lowest layer of hell, being nothing more than a hideous being.

  But there, at the very bottom, surrounded by all the misery and wreckage of this world, she had a moment of rude awakening. She wanted to feel alive again! Yes! She wanted to be saved! She had already lost everything, even the blame she had put on herself for leaving.

  It was late... she started shouting out for his help... and felt tired! She had already lost her sweet, human voice he was able to hear... It was late! Her torments forcefully rammed into the celestial palace... the mind of the gods. Her kin listened, understood... it sounded like torture. They sent the divine keeper of Wisdom, Enki, to make a connection, stop this agony, save her at all costs.

  Ishtar would be free, gods finally decided, only if another man would take her place. But who would ever do that willingly? Sacrifice himself? And for what?

  She had no beauty, no personal possessions, not even a clear mind... She was nobody! No one believed in Our Savior, at that time, to even care! Unfortunately, He was not there, among us, to hand over His long wooden ladder-cross. There was no one around to help her climb back to the living, stand tall, chin up... only demons ready to follow.

  But her demons had a mission, a very clear objective: “Hunt a guy down, doesn't matter who, put him in her place, make him feel the same hell, cry as like she did! Make him beg each night for a painless death... make him take a poisonous cup to his lips, at each dawn... but allow him enough hope to beat the daylights out of himself and delay drinking it completely...”

  “Leave him alone, thirsting and fighting himself”, their dark Master further more instructed, “until he is able to show you forgiveness... To give up resentment competely will make him rise above all of us, gods of the Light and gods of the Darkness.”

  However, resurrected Ishtar didn't think much of this deal; she enjoyed being saved, as her friend, Enki, rushed her to... [I am stuck here, right now, in this story. There cannot be a hospital for gods, so I have no idea what to write next. Hmm! Let's pretend, there is such a hospital and go on... I am happy Enki arrived to her on time. He was smart enough to avoid the traffic jam in Alexander Platz, he is the god of Wisdom, after all.] So, Enki took her to this special ER, to a huge resuscitation area, where an agitated doctor checked and monitor her airway, breathing and pulse, gave her oxygen. [I have no idea whom to send my thanks, I was not able to find out what happened there.
]

  Followed by her demons, Isthar had just reentered this selfish world and recovered the status: “feeling good”.

  After some weeks of recovery, she was happy and powerful again! All things lost were coming back. The great Goddess of Love was alive, proud of herself, she conquered death.

  Well, the moment she regained her human voice, she wanted to run back to her man, to their home.[ My first choice here was to use the verb “walk”, instead of “run”, just to give you an idea about her moving at a speed that is faster. True, she was eager to go home to her man. I just hope you've learned from the previous story, not to have high hopes for anyone.]

  So, once upon a time, when folk were wiser as they are nowadays, there lived a resurrected divine woman. One evening, she drove off to Tammuz's kingdom [let's imagine it was as big and attractive as New York city! No! It can't be right! I start to mix stories, too. Damn!].

  Ok, coming back... She spotted him as soon as she opened the bedroom door. He was fully exposed... annoyingly moaning... bending over. She wanted to rush for him, but he turned around, deeply shocked. For a moment, she wanted to say something witty, make him feel really, really bad, but she couldn't say anything.

  She only called the demons and pointed at him, speaking only with Her hands... Tammuz hid his face deep in his palms, covering his eyes again, but this time, crying, in utter despair.

  He was caught naked, not mourning for Her, but giving pleasure from behind to a slave. That ordinary wretched whore immediately jumped up, shaking in fear, screaming. She ran into Ishtar who was too hurt to avoid being hit. The Goddess of Sex was numb, could not think, felt outraged and so damn vengeful. And the only thing She was able to see in front of her eyes... was this worn-out, drunk shepherd, sobbing on Her bed “I'm so sorry, love! I'm so sorry!”

  In the end, she managed to let go. Yes, she did! There were even moments, when She could give up anger completely. Only in those moments, Tammuz could resurrect, too, take a small mouthful of fresh air and recover his human sweet voice

  But suddenly, without any warning, the Goddess of War would “reflow” everything in Her mind, mostly the sounds: that annoying moaning... the bark of his naked hip moving... the hiss of the slave's round butt... the squeaking bed frame, all pitching and plunging on Her best memory sheets, on her covers. And just like then, She would raise Her hands, call the demons again, make Tammuz creep out, leave home and start descending ... the same hell... the same poisonous cup... each time delusional, each time worse than before.

  Until one day, a storm came, turned into a Flood and washed them all from my history.

  This story has a rather nice ending, don't you think?

  My first thought was to write something like: we all bury and resurrect in our heart people we deeply love. But then, I come to realize that the most unfortunate part of this story makes me truly sad. Our love can't live without forgiveness. I think I should have told from beginning that...

  ***

  Be aware!

  1. descending to the Underworld [entering a depression/addiction episode] could happen to anyone, no matter how happy they seem to be. People with this disorder are commonly misunderstood, as they cannot change this condition at will.

  2. like Ishtar, a depressed/addicted person, may lose everything in terms of good looks and social position. Struggling to take control over the dark side is a tiring experience. Consequently, one may experience feelings of helplessness or being physically drained.

  3. emotional support is a key element in any recovery, but it is Wisdom (Enki) that saves lives by imposing empathy [the capacity to understand someone by placing yourself in his position].

  4. while Ishtar was suffering, Tammuz was having a good time; he was partying instead of mourning. Of course, anyone can empathize with her. She must have been terribly hurt, after she caught him cheating.

  5. let's change this perspective for a moment! A painful episode in someone's life triggers anxiety, a state of inner turmoil, panic and confusion. To reduce its damaging power, our ego uses a defense mechanism that is meant to protect our personality from falling.

  To help you better understand this, I will make a short analogy.

  Imagine your inner system keeps freezing after installing unsupported software (betrayal/sorrow over the departure of your lover/aggression), what else can you do, but press desperately that F.Key, that Arrow Up and Down. Ok, you have (Re) Started, you can see the Desktop, Control Panel, rush to check the basic Files and Drivers... they are all there!... drag some Icons to see if they can be moved (make a prayer!), then hurry to pound some Bin— you like to have the (Recycle) Bin on your screen, no doubt!— you can do this and you can do that... you may even enjoy a moment of relief, until you realize the truth. Network is beyond repair! Your defense mechanism prevented you to fully open yourself up, so you are stuck in (Computer) Love Safe Mode, only.

  Although your Heart is not completely unresponsive, it is allowed to feel in a limited state, and you hate this so much, because you remember the whole love experience used to be much better, once.

  Sadly, most defense mechanisms are fairly unconscious; this means you do not realize using them in the moment. For instance, like Tammuz, many people experiencing loss use displacement, they rapidly shift affection from their true love interest (Ishtar) to someone accessible (the slave girl) or even family (becoming the family rooted plant, I was telling you about earlier).

  Now, have you ever felt you are acting differently and even told yourself something like: “I've never thought I could cheat/get drunk/get high”, “I am a decent, hard-working, faithful person!”?

  Yes, I am sure you were once. But you can't change doing something regretful can you? You can change your job, your clothes, your partner, but not this. Do you know why? Because this shameful moment of vice makes you feel damn alive! It is your moment of relief! You know it won't last. It is not the real thing. You simply know all the things people blame you for. You don't need a shrink to tell you that your (Love) System has a inner serious malfunction! You are aware of everything, but you simply delay repairs. They are expensive and to be honest, you didn't Shut Down completely, did you?

  5. come on, my Reader! It's time for us to move on! I've already told you, my time is up! Press that Power button, click Recovery. Brace yourself! No, I won't give you that winter is coming quote! But you, my friend, are about to lose same important Data about yourself. You must do this in order to return to the Preinstalled need for Affection. Delete the all files that start with: “Are you crazy?”,“No!”, “I will not forgive”, “I am not capable”, “I can't love anymore”!

  Before you do that, let me give you a warning. You can trust words, but, never trust a sentence! At all!

  I told you about pounding the “bin”, two minutes ago, but it was not the “box” that I had in mind. Have you checked the definition already? In slang, “bin” also means “vagina”, so pounding one means “making love to a woman, striking her hard.” I said you hurry when you do that, and you didn't contradict me. I also implied you like to have “vaginas” on your screen. Do you? I hope you don't feel offended. You are probably the decent person you pretend to be...

  Well, you didn't see that coming, did you? Me using slang terms! Wow! Why not? Who is there to stop me? To tell you the truth, I didn't trick you by using this impolite word, “bin” [I am sure you'll remember this one from now on!]. No! You were deceived by the formal context I placed my word in [something to do with computers... but, I am sure you don't remember that, too well].

  Well, if I could insult your intelligence like this, just to prove my point, imagine what can do to you in real life, if I really want to make you suffer! I don't, so I'd better stop using these threatening If-clauses.

  Hmm! Just to make sure... I hope you are aware that “sentence” is a polysemantic word, too. It has several meanings... Oops, I did it again! So, let't read this again, together, this time: never trust I sentence, my Reader! [
You have the right to appeal! You can win this! Harvey said it in “Suits”, so many times, you know!]

  The Human Diaries

  Serena Liebfried — listening to Camille Saint-Saëns, Dance Macabre

  23.05.2011

  berlin k

  24.05.2011

  nothing to write about

  25.05.2011

  nothing to write about

  26.05.2011

  cant speak.

  27.05.2011

  hermannstadt home i cant get out lost my key

  28.05.2011

  found some dead flowers forgot to water them

  29.05.2011

  try to read... Boot up to a complete new level of understanding what

  30.05.2011

  out

  26.06.2011

  writing seems a good idea i dont write well i make mistakes.

  I make punctuation mistakes, spelling mistakes... i don't write well.

  04.09.2011

  Do men love differently? Is Serena hard to get?

  12.10.2011

  found the cat dead near the fertilizer forgot to lock the bottle im a monster i write badly again i have to restrain You are a monster, Serena!

  13.10.2011

  nothing to write about, drank a lot

  14.10.2011

  nothing to write about. La fleur is dead not get another one i Will kill that too...

  20.11.2011

  Went to the opera. Music was great. Donizetti? Lucia...? i dont remember... i don't remeber! I don't remember! Damn it!

  25.11.2011

  I got a big bonus! Me! A bonus! I got it! I did great! Thank you for your support! Who's singing jazz now? Who? Ouch! Hangover tomorrow, for sure!

  Workaholic till I die! The sun is shinin' baby! Sun is... shinin', Can't you tell I got news for you, Sun is shinning and so are you... la-la-la.”

  01.01.2012

  Yes, I will keep pressing on. I will search for my man. He should not be: 1. flirty, 2. social, 3. really hot, 4. blue-eyed, 5. a musician.

  I should quit Jazz Festival, I hate jazz, anyway.