Vida

I haven’t been hung on the wall at La Morante Art Bar for more than a few hours when I make a woman cry. ‘That’s probably not a good thing when you are a painting shown to the public for the first time,’ I think to myself, but I don’t even know what I look like.

On the other hand, the greatest gift she could possibly give me, is the purity of her attention, and that is precisely what she had been doing, lavishly, and thus, making me feel as if I were some sort of effervescent fantasy. Something special sparks between us.

Paintings, like photos, have the ability to capture a moment, an event and preserve it, as evidence, memory, story material, pleasure or just for fun. So I do freeze this scene in order to make time to figure out who am I and what to do next.

I’m so curious now, that I go back a few weeks. I remember that Ale used dark colors on my hair, greyish tones on my eyes and fiery ones elsewhere; her moods while creating me were at times nostalgic, passionate, happy, serene or sad; her faces thoughtful, visionary, worrisome, smiley or even mischievous; then meditative when she wrote the words.

But I still can’t picture myself, and I know that paintings also have the prerogative to travel to the future, in spirit. I remember she had talked a lot about 4/20, 2020 at 4:20 being an important date, so I go to its eve to make sure I don’t miss anything.

To my surprise, the bar is closed, dark and I´m nowhere to be found, but I hear Ale’s voice over the wall and go looking for her at the neighbors’ patio.

She and a couple had met for snacks and chat after weeks of isolation. I learn the whole city –and the whole world, had been shut down due to a virus pandemic. However, I feel a new awareness of what the value of loved and cherished ones really is, of the importance and greatness of hugs, laughter, stares and even grimaces or pouts; a mood of deeper and more philosophical approach to life and relationships in general and art in particular.

Coincidence or luck? I don’t know, but shortly after, Ale starts talking about her 2019’s Ayahuasca experience and how it was resumed to words and how those ended written on a painting that had been waiting weeks for its final touch. She is referring to me, Vida.

A proud, enthusiastic and charming Ale is telling my story, beautifully, but just when she reaches the scene I froze earlier, he asks to see a picture of me…

Gosh, why can’t he wait 5 minutes? Men can be annoying sometimes.

On top of that, Ale takes a while to find my picture, so I’m pissed and impatient when we finally meet at Ale’s phone screen, not the most romantic or private of places, anyway.

Silence took over for a minute that seemed an eternity. A cool breeze, a flowery scent and a feet-sniffing puppy were the only evidence that life was still happening around us two.

He is flabbergasted. I’m flattered with his deep yet reverent analysis; surprised by how he looks into me, rather than at me, even without my real size, colors, textures and vivid presence. We’re both dazzled and past the flirting stage, which is an outstanding event in itself, because I was created a woman, by a woman, about women and for women.

I guess he has enough feminine energy to read my gaze –even though I’m not looking back into his, to feel my colors, perceive my emotions and understand my essence, to the point of seeing Ale, or even womanhood, through me.

He is still absorbing me with his black bottomless eyes when he declares “Ale, she is like a phoenix bird, which has gone through hardships and loses, nearly destroyed and annihilated, but has reborn from her own ashes, stronger, wiser, more beautiful, with greater empathy and compassion, just like you.” It’s his first thought, a simple one, but I can sense a catharsis warming up on a back burner of his mind, which makes me feel like a Hollywood star, expectant of his perception and somehow hypnotized into reverie.

Part of his emotional release, appreciation and appraisal comes forth in words about me, still in the joyful presence of his wife Ana and Ale; some more is thought, felt or dreamt in my ethereal presence later; the rest is told to me, loudly and directly, by his eloquent gaze into my picture on his phone.

Now I can travel back to a world where hugs, smiles, glances, rejoicing and gatherings weren’t rare commodities, but lived every day and taken for granted; travel back in time, to the evening when Michele, Christine and I, will fall for each other…

That touching tale, told by Ale, is precisely what caused all this to gush forward, like a spring of water. It all became a part of me, giving me the confidence and courage to tell my version of it all. Some of it might be similar to hers, theirs or others’ feelings about me:

So it’s me, Vida, the new girl on the wall, Alejandra Morante’s most recent creation. I’m trying to be gentle to visitors and mingle, in the way only art can and paintings usually do.

Two gorgeous ladies, almost as good looking as myself, sit close by. A while later, I lure Michele, who stands up and approaches in order to take a closer look at me. I contain my emotion and some well-deserved compliments the best I can, because I’m not supposed to blush, smile, behave coquettishly or much less talk to total strangers.

As she analyzes me and reads the words written on my canvas, tears pour out of her eyes and start rolling down her cheeks, tickling all their way down to the lips, where they taste a little salty and a lot like future nostalgia…

Her partner Christine stands up, comes to embrace and comfort her right away, as if they were telepathically connected and emotionally synchronized.

That’s when the three of us are together for the very first time, an artsy trio.

Ale comes shortly after. It amazes me that the three of them are not only kind of on-line, but on the same page too. They talk about me and the words on me, of course, and the conversation and emotions go from there.

The cure for the soul is salt water, be it sweat, tears or the sea, and some kind of healing was definitely now in order and beginning to happen…

Christine approaches Ale in order to buy me as a present for Michele, which needless to say, makes me feel the luckiest girl in the universe and its whereabouts, it is a foretaste of the magic that my two wonderful girls would gradually make me believe that I have, with their stares, love, comments and kindness. I also know it will take some time for us to reunite in their far away land, but I’m certain that they will make me feel at home.

Wrapped with several layers; travelling in a dark container driven by men of questionable habits, manners and language; accompanied by all sorts of furniture, documents, liquids and packages with very poor conversation skills; being so young and unexperienced; and lacking a good book to read, remembering Rodolfo’s words becomes my best option:

“The most majestic trees, the ones that have the stronger branches, provide better shade, and grow leaves, flowers and fruit more abundantly, are those which roots are dug deeper into dirt that is rich in dead animals and plants; deeper into the cold and darkness.

The same thing happens with people: those who have fallen deeper into loneliness, pain, disappointment, losses, shit and darkness, are usually the brightest, most interesting, exemplary, inspiring, fruitful, empathetic and fascinating,” he was explaining to me when he concluded, “Vida, it looks as if you’ve been through hell, but also as if you are readier than ever to become paradise, the best version of yourself. Like you just came out of a violent storm, but are standing stronger to withstand the next one, vehemently.

Perhaps Ale wrote those words in you, in order to leave no doubts about how deep down those roots go, which only makes you more exuberant, glorious and promising.”

So now I’m sobbing and in need of a warm embrace, but he’s only just begun.

“Friends who meet in the second half of their lives, have the privilege of seeing the restored and mature version of each other without having witnessed or participated in the process, most times arduous, by which the other person became its present self.

More so for women, who are like waves of the same ocean and communicate very well among them. They do end up sharing their stories, of course, and learning from each other’s glories and sorrows, successes and failures, joys and hurts, but at a pace that is wise, considerate and safe. In other words, without having to live the harsh parts themselves, yet helping the other one to overcome such pains. Shared joys are double joys and shared sorrows are half sorrows. Somehow, you portray this also, Vida.”

While he pauses for a while, I’m seeing myself reflected in his mirroring eyes, trying to sink in and even dress in the words, thoughts and emotions that come out of him and swirl around us, enchanted, like dry leaves with the wind.

“Eyes are the windows to the soul, and yours are wide open, they tell stories and express your essence, eloquently. Also, the color of one’s eyes may talk about our origin, but the color of the gaze speaks about destiny.

There is a quote that says something like: ‘Sensuality without love is a sin, love without sensuality is worse than a sin.’ It comes to mind because for me, there are two ways to interpret lovemaking:

The clumsy one, but unfortunately the most common, means to have sex with another person; this also has to do with the kind of love that comes from a need, something that we are lacking, and thus wanting, desiring to fill an empty space.

The valuable meaning is a synonym of creating love, nourishing love, making love bloom, in another person, and comes from a richness, an abundance, a love we have in excess and overflows, irradiates onto those around us in general and our loved one in particular; a kind of love that can become a contagious and mutual adoration, veneration and joy.

Women are naturally wired to excel at the second one (which, by the way, includes the former, but as one of the means and as one of its tasty fruits, not as the goal), as you were designed to give birth, nurture, protect and see your offspring grow and become self-sufficient, literally and metaphorically. We’re not just talking about a child, of course, but about your ideas, projects, enterprises, art, leadership, friendship and love relationships.

Often, a woman has plenty of this high quality love, enough to compensate for her couple’s lack of it; other times for her partner’s insufficient ability, sensitivity, detachment and wisdom to provide it as necessary…Yes, Vida, sometimes we men are a mess that way” he said with teary eyes, “for us it’s more of a learnt skill, most times with high emotional and social costs, hurting others and ourselves, especially when we don’t get it soon enough in our youth. To even say ‘I love you’ is quite difficult for most of us, even when we are deeply in love and loving with all of our hearts.

So when two women fall for each other, there is abundance of the second kind of lovemaking, the one about taking care of each other’s needs, dreams, plans etcetera, on one hand; and emotions, thoughts feelings and pleasure, on the other hand; by listening with the ears, eyes, heart, mind and soul and responding accordingly in a way that makes love bloom, the relationship strengthen and their self-worth rise like beer froth.

Of course there is space for flaws and voids, no one is perfect, not even phoenix birds, experienced women or men, and there’s a need for mistakes too, they make us learn, mature, grow, improve and refine our quality of love and our loving qualities; they teach us how to forgive, ask for forgiveness and earn it; to grow in compassion and humbleness.

Besides, we are all broken, but even the most broken part of a crayon continues to paint beautifully, provided that there is some talent, patience, perseverance and, most importantly, good will.

You, Vida, depict all this too, but you also made me realize –or maybe just remember, that one doesn’t become infatuated by some beautiful eyes, but by the way those eyes look at you; one doesn’t get obsessed with some thick smiling lips, but with the speech that comes out from them; one is not enchanted by the presence of a woman, but by her charms; and one isn’t taken by a mature woman, but by the experience that she displays.

Vida, even though we’ll probably never meet in person, I have already hung you in the gallery of my heart, as a beautiful image, of course, but also as a memory of the very touching story of you three girls, as a timely teacher and as an extraordinary muse that evoked words I didn’t even know that I had.

Therefore, I can call you Vida mía, because you brought life to me, you’re part of me now, and last, but not least, you’re ethereally mine.

Be proud and shine wherever you go.”

I spent enough time in trucks to sink in everything that has happened to me since I came into existence and how she, them two and others have perceived me. As Wayne Dyer would put it, “If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change,” and I feel as glamorous as humble, as lucky as obliged to dazzle, as heavenly as earthly, as loved as ready to love, as attentive as ready to talk…

So I’m at the hallway of my new home, dying to see her face when she unwraps me, longing to see her sweet eyes again, and maybe some happy tears this time.

End.