Keep giving love

In this world of freedom and fear it's up to the bravest of us to keep giving love.

Who is lucky enough to experience it?

Who is smart enough to embrace it?

Who is brave enough to let it blossom?

Step one: experience it.
It's easy.
You just enjoy the presence of others and learn from them.
Be interested in what they have to say and their way of seeing the world.

Step two: embrace it.
It's intriguing.
You travel, you spend more time with the people who make you happy.
Share memories, experiences, start bonding. You become vunerable.

Step three: let it blossom.
It's terrifying.
Accept to give your energy, time, feelings and emotions.
Let it grow inside you, it's a conscious decision this one.

Will you be brave and curious enough to see where it can bring you?
 If you want to know in advance, you're mistaken from the start. This is the wrong starting point.
Accept the unknown adventure of love. For each person is a unique path.
A narrow path at first, maybe even steep, and you don't know what comes next.
Maybe it's going downhill and you can sing and dance your way in it.
Maybe it starts easy and it keeps being easy and not challenging, or not challenging enough.
Maybe it even starts as an asphalt road, continues as a hiking path and ends on a dried river bank. Dead end.
How the fuck do you want to know in advance?
Accept the risk, you're just a human.
And for that you can and should love.

(Wishing he would have sung this for me, the soundtrack of this time is:

"And you'll either love me or you hate me
'Cause I can see you've got no time for the in-between
But the reflection in your eyes gonna look so much better")

"A dreamer wearing sensible shoes" processing...

Όταν γράφω επεξεργάζομαι.
Την συμπεριφορά μου, τη δράση και αντίδραση.
Αξιολογώ καταστάσεις και βρίσκω θέσεις σε πράγματα που είναι μέσα στο κεφάλι μου.

Πραγματιστής. Ρεαλιστής.
Κανείς δεν μπορεί να σε κατηγορήσει.

Ιδεαλίστρια. Ρομαντική.
Κανείς δεν μπορεί να με κατηγορήσει.

Άραγε υπάρχει δρόμος για εμάς τις ρομαντικές ψυχές ή θα συνεχίσουμε να ζούμε στον κόσμο μας;
Μου είπε ένας φίλος, "Κατερίνα, πρέπει να συντονιστείς λίγο με τον κόσμο".
Μα είναι τόσο όμορφος ο δικός μου κόσμος!
Είναι τόσο όμορφα τα όνειρα, τα ιδανικά,
κι ας είναι από τον χρόνο δανεικά.

Τελικά ο πόλεμος δεν είναι έξω, είναι μέσα μου πρώτιστα.
Κι είναι δύσκολος ο πούστης όταν μπερδεύεται ο έρωτας μέσα του.

 Τα λέει η Jill Barber καλά.
"Oh, but I am just a dreamer wearing sensible shoes
And I still dream in colour even though I sing the blues
And I want to be like lovers in an old romantic song
Where the music fades away before the love it can go wrong"

Έτσι κι εγώ. Πρώτη χαραμάδα, πληγώνει και συνεχίζει ακάθεκτη.

Couscous salads and evening outings

(Written in mid October)

The time between mid September and end of October is full of work, couscous salads and interesting evenings.
Music, theatre, poetry and "Black mirror".
Keeping myself busy until the days of escape and relax.
Beautiful night London provides the best opportunities for amazing evenings.
I saw Coco and the Fellas on a Sunday evening and danced like crazy with some lunatic actors.

A long walk in Putney Heath or Central London, interesting discussions on human, God and interpersonal relations keep my mind going.
I lay down in the evenings imagining that moment at the station and comparing it with the moment of short awkwardness of the 4 hands ("τόση αμηχανία για τέσσερα χέρια"). Let this be beautiful again, like your face in the black and white pictures you send me.
Two great weirds.

November again

I will count my years in Novembers.
It is not because of my name day, neither because of the falling leaves as the end of an era.
There is a mystical quality in this month for me, as if, when my parents concieved me in Kalavrita, November 1985, a circle started and always gets updated every November.
And this year's update has been pretty amazing, I must say.

 This November started in beautiful autumny Austria with long strolls in cities, parks and museums. A dream-like atmosphere and intense bonding moments.
I couldn't imagine such greatness and fullfillment and yet it came to me.

A couple of break days in London and busy preparations for conference followed.
A conference participation that I hadn't anticipated and was least ready to go, as I was expecting to be at a fellowship interview.
But all went well, as long as I lowered my expectations of what I would present.
At the same time, given the lost chance of the fellowship, I was offered a position I couldn't turn down.
Senior post doc; I suppose it's just a title to make me feel better, it could show a bit in the income, but no tremendous changes from where I am now in this respect.
The changes, which I consider an upgrade, are the toys I would be allowed to play with, so many methods available in the MPI! And, of course, the PI, an established professor in the field.
I am as happy as I could be landing my foot in JFK and reading the email with the offer.
I go to the conference with an air of success and determination about the quality of my work.
RE-CO-GNI-TION. Α-ΝΑ-ΓΝΩ-ΡΙ-ΣΗ. This is what I told my family and friends.

At the same time, I had an invitation for a lecture in my old department in Athens, where I did my undergrads in Linguistics. It is amazing how things turn out. I am so happy to be coming back after a couple of years of hard work abroad. Even if it's just for a short contribution.

The new tomorrow, I am looking forward to.

But first! I'm gonna have a wee (thank you Amanda, for this association). No, I meant I need to wrap up the work at Imperial. Analysis and writing up. I'll give my best and let go after.

Τόσο πολλά σε τόσο λίγο χρόνο

Η ζωή τρέχει με υπερ-ρυθμούς.
Αυτές τις μέρες έφυγε ένα άγχος αλλά δεν γίνεται να φύγει τελείως όλο το άγχος.
Το ΣΚ που πέρασε έκανα 3 πράγματα ταυτόχρονα: έγραφα αίτηση για πρότζεκτ, φιλοξενούσα μια φίλη και οργάνωνα ένα workshop χορού στην Ελβετία.
Παραλίγο να τα φτύσω τελείως.
Αλλά τουλάχιστον με κάλεσαν να διδάξω στο workshop! Και ιδιαίτερα τα μαθήματα που επιθυμούσα, με παιδάκια, και δημιουργικό χορό!
Κατέθεσα και την αίτηση στην ώρα της. Δεν κοιμήθηκα και πολύ αλλά όλα πήγαν καλά τελικά.
Ευτυχώς η φίλη μου είχε πολλή κατανόηση.
Θέλω να τα γράψω, να τα καταγράψω, να τα θυμάμαι να μην τα ξανακάνω.
Πολλή κούραση.

I've grown again

Ah, MMM summer school.
Every year, new experiences, new people, new feelings.
This year was the Children experience.
I did my chrildren's grades I-III and enjoyed them very much.
It was fascinating to see how Chantal and Sarah taught not only exercises but also lessons for life.
Teaching the awareness of the environment, the society, the history, all through movement and all in one class.
What a treat for the children.
I want to offer that treat, moi aussi.

The dark blue, I dream of you

Λέει ο Κωνσταντίνος Βήτα:

Όταν σε κοιτάζω δεν ξέρω τι θέλω,
μοιάζει με εικόνα παγωμένη από έργο,
όλα σταματούν κι όλα τρέχουν συγχρόνως,
ποιος μπορεί να πει τι είναι ο χρόνος;
Όσο σε μαθαίνω χάνω τις λέξεις,
γίνομαι ένα σώμα με χίλιες ορέξεις,
τόσα ραντεβού σε μια καφετέρια,
τόση αμηχανία για τέσσερα χέρια.

Και με την ίδια μουσική για υπόβαθρο, θέλω να πω:

Κάθε νύχτα

με μια φωτογραφία

Μπλε μάτια

για καληνύχτα

Κάθε πρωί

με μια φωτογραφία

Μπλε μάτια

για καλημέρα

Θέλω χρόνο,

μαζί σου

Και χώρο,

μαζί σου

Μόνο μαζί σου.

Όλα μέσα μου έχουν μπει σε παύση μέχρι το Σεπτέμβριο, περιμένω αναπολώντας την αμηχανία των χεριών.

 

The new and the old generation

It's been so long since last time I captured some time in writing.
I don't want to write and report everything, but I do want to document my strongest emotional experiences.


A little boy took my hand and helped me pull my suitcase. It was in a street in northern Germany. His father ran and held his other hand, making sure we crossed the street safely. The little boy was 1,5 years old and he was most probably the reason why I stopped receiving birthday wishes from his father for the last 1,5 years. I knew something had changed, but I hadn't put everything together. The little boy was my first love's son. And he liked me. And he was a miniature of him. And he ripped my heart off, by taking my hand, helping me, sharing my ice-cream and showing me his skills on climbing. I just realised what I might be needing in my life, the unconditional love of a child. It's not that he would have made me happier than I am. I don't regret anything, I would have left at some point anyway. We are now miles apart in mind and soul. But the bond of someone having loved you so much and having loved them back is so hopeful, gives me courage and strength. She was a sweetheart as well, the mother of the little one and wife of the older one. They looked so happy. It felt to me that he was born to be a dad, to care about others and especially his child. He is a remarkable person and I feel lucky to have been loved and have loved him. We didn't do anything wrong. We just weren't meant for each other.

Like a scene from a movie this experience kept my head and heart busy for two days. But this feeling was too little compared to the pure pain I felt and still feel after Saturday, the 3rd of June.

"Grandma left." This is what my mother wrote in WhatsApp. "Don't you worry." Insane. How can she just write this. I assume it was her shock and her need to communicate it and get it out of her as soon as possible. "A part of me died." I told my friends. And I am wondering how can a part of me die and I can still be alive to feel the pain? I try to hold on to the sweetest of memories. Even her stubborness feels sweet and I miss it now. How can she be there one day, standing, smiling,  encouraging me, and the next day mom says she's gone. I didn't recognise her at the funeral. That body's face was empty, my grandma's face was always glowing when she saw me. I still am nor sure where she's gone, since what we burried that day, I cannot believe it was her. I couldn't touch her, I didn't want to feel she was cold. I just touched her fluffy haid and put my head on her new wooden bed for 2 seconds. My head was so heavy, it still is, it feels like it's going to blow when I think of her. Although I may be recovering very slowly, I still am so sad. How can I recover from my own death? I don't want to be reborn, I want to share with her my successes, my failures. I wish I could have said goodbye. I didn't know it the last time she kissed me that it would be the last time. I need time. Time with friends, time alone, time to work, time to dance, time to process and reflect. I cannot move on so fast, my world needs to slow down.

And writing this down helped me, even though it was painful. I have reached yet another catharsis.

Harsh

Χθες το βράδυ.
Δεν θυμάμαι γιατί, δε θυμάμαι τι σκεφτόμουν όταν αποκοιμήθηκα.
Αλλά ήρθε επίσκεψη η γλυκιά σου η φωνή, το νησί μέσα στον ωκεανό της θλίψης.
Από τότε.
Ξανασκέφτομαι τα ίδια μονοπάτια.
Προχωράω με δάκρυα στα μάτια.
Προχωράω.
Προχωράς κι εσύ.
Κι η ζωή θα δείξει ποιός θα βρει ποιόν.
Και πόσες διαδρομές θα ακολουθήσουμε αναζητώντας ο ένας τον άλλο.

Και όλα αυτά γιατί κάποιος μου είπε ότι είμαι σκληρή.
Πώς να μην γίνω.
Πες μου πώς να μην γίνω σκληρή μετά από τόσα χρόνια.

Double agent is back home

What is home, I realised again.
Arriving in Brixton after long hours of travelling, first greeted by beggars at the tube station.
The feeling you know you are at home is when you first smile when you arrive on a Thursday evening and you hear the trumpet solo outside the legendary local pub.
Cold was shaving any part of my skin exposed to the air.
Got inside the house and it seemed even colder than outside.
I am feeling well. At ease.
Home is the place you can exist and when you go out of the house you feel you own the place and the place owns you.
When you long to go to the butchers to buy meat and wish happy new year.
When you go to the clothes shop, the owner remembers you and says: "Tme flies, where have you been?"
When you come back and feel inspired for another positive post, despite your low heamatocrit and vitamin d defficiency. Depression can kiss my ass today.
So, there you go, any place can become your home and it's up to you.
I am a dreamer and so much is possible.
Looking forward to the new adventures of 2017.
Truthfully and with all my brains and heart.

P.S. When I was on vcation, I had started writing a post about how I feel like a double agent, don't know what to call home and my needs are different depending on where I am. But, as I realised, I do have the same needs anywhere, it's just the independence and the freedom to choose my own path that makes me feel more myself.

No more chestnuts

No more chestnuts.
No more such friends.
I have plenty of friends, I'm full of friends. Exhaustively full.
Next time I won't have sex with someone I clearly don't see as a friend. No, thank you.
Generally and also given my recent experience, men work like this:

Approach, take chances, possibly score. Mission accomplished. Go for next one. 

It's as if they're driven by the animal need to plant their seed in as many partners as possible. A need to survive.
Screw what M. said about the men's crucial search for their mother. I tell you what works.
Men plant their seed and woman become mothers. That's all.
Obviously I'm too affected by culture to want a man for other things than that. 

But I have decided on one thing. Before I sleep with the next one, I'm gonna tell him that we are not just friends and we'll never be just friends. In fact, I never saw him as a friend and why should I do it after we have sex. 

And if he walks away then good. Perfect, actually. Make space for the next try. Don't waste my time.
And no matter how immature I may be or how motherly I behave, how much I care and give and take and ruin, the process is what matters. I can say, I have been trying all along. I am true and I have feelings.
So no more bloody chestnuts. No more of these weird friends who either want something from you or you want something from them and you cannot just enjoy life with.

Death and our rippling

Two Sundays ago in Sunday Assembly the topic was death.
In the beginning, I was surprised that in a social gathering which celebrates life we would talk about death.
When I was there, though, the connection between life and death became much clearer.
Death is your kind pal, standing next to you all the time, asking you this question:
"Are you doing what you want to do in your life?"
or maybe even "Are you enjoying this?",
with the background thought that this is not going to last for ever.
So, he (why not she, actually?) is helping you to make the best of your life.

One of my favourite bands has summarised this in two lines:
"As soon as you're born you start dying
So you might as well have a good time. " (Cake,  from "Sheep go to heaven, goats go to hell")

The other thought that helped me stare death in the face with less fear was the idea of rippling. Ru Callender, creator of Green Funerals in Devon and Cornwall, said that our legacy consists of our acts and our interaction with other people. Also, even after we die, our legacy will be rippling over the people we had interacted with. Meaning, it would still be affecting people and we would continue to exist as influence, just as a wave continues to exist for as far as it travels. If the sea is big, the wave continues rippling further and further and for a long time.

The thought of rippling helped me cope with the certainty of my parents death in the future, which is one of my greatest fears. I have seen my father change and become more like my grandpa (his father) after the latter one died. So, my grandpa is rippling over my father. He is also rippling over me, when I cite him "Άφρικα εγεννήκαμε" (meaning We have become Africa and referring to the south wind on Crete and to the moving of tectonic plates that bring Crete closer to Africa). In this sense, when my parents die, I will most probably keep their words, their actions, their influence and I will still be interacting with my memories of them. These memories will guide my actions and in this way my parents will be rippling over me. The more I miss them, the more I can make them ripple over me. Now, that's a reassuring thought. Really. I told Ru how thankful I was to him for planting this thought in my mind and he thanked me for sharing.

In my mind I also connected the idea of rippling with the "Yellow - Rippling Arm Exercise" in Margaret Morris Movement. Now the rippling of the hands and arms in this exercise have a new meaning for me; I am thinking of Barbara, of Wiltrud, of Margaret Morris herself, that are rippling on me, no matter alive or dead, shaping not only my dance movement but most importantly my psyche.

"They can't take that away from me" on a Monday morning

Ξύπνησα μέσα στη Δευτέρα από τον συγκάτοικό μου να ρωτάει αν θέλω πρωινό.
Περίμενε, ναι, θέλω, τι έγινε, ξύπνησα, όνειρο ήταν;
Σηκώνομαι και αποφασίζω πως ήταν όνειρο το Σαββατοκύριακο και ως όνειρο θα το αντιμετωπίσω.
Στο πρωινό μιλήσαμε για τους μουσουλμάνους και για το πόσο γρήγορα αναπαράγονται.
Συμφωνήσαμε ότι σε κάποια χρόνια θα αποτελούν την πλειονότητα.
Και μετά γενίκευσε ο συγκάτοικος σε κάτι ρατσιστικό και τον παρακάλεσα να μην γίνει ρατσιστής.
Συμφωνούμε στις παρατηρήσεις αλλά όχι στα συμπεράσματα.
I still believe in humans, του είπα.
Και συμπλήρωσα τραγουδιστά "No, they can't take that away from me".

Αφού έφυγε έμεινα μόνη με τα φαντάσματα του Σαββατοκύριακου συνειδητοποίησα ότι το Σαββατοκύριακο ως όνειρο δεν μπορεί να μου το πάρει κανείς. Δικό μου όνειρο και τέλειο.

Η Κυριακή ήταν μια υπέροχη μέρα, από τις πιο χαρούμενες της ζωής μου, να το σημειώσω, Κυριακή 25 Σεπτεμβρίου 2016. Και τρελή να με πουν σαν τις πρωταγωνίστριες της ταινίας La pazza gioia, το όνειρο δεν μπορούν να μου το πάρουν. Και ποιός ξέρει, μπορεί να το ξαναζήσω.

Oh God it's already September

I haven't written in the blog in a while. The reason is the most exciting things that keep happening and me not having the time to reflect. But let's take things from where I left them.

In July I was "measuring like a daemon" as my boss said. I was kind of proud of this. But it also got me exhausted and hurt. I was stressing a lot and putting all this stress and effort on my poor knees when going to work in the morning. So I ended up hurting my knees quite a lot. I was too harsh on them. Ann told me to rest, take baths, leave the bike for the week before summer school. And as a good kid I listened to my teacher. Thanks to taking care of them, my knees went through the "White Colour" exam unharmed. And I managed to get "Highly Commended" grade, which I must say, I am quite proud of. :)

Then summer school came. So stressful. Training for basic teachers diploma. Anatomy in French and English mixed. "Le grand dorsal ouai ouai", I was sometimes too frustrated to ask for a translation. But then Amanda was rephrasing and wouldn't even realise how much that would help me. The last day, when she had almost given up mentally, I made up by asking and rephrasing in English. I am so happy that I met Amanda and that we took the teacher training course together. It would have been unbearable without her. All the rest of the training went well. Most importantly, I learned that when I am relaxed and believe in myself I can perform and create amazing things. I learned that in the assessment with Janet. I am grateful to all my teachers for their support and understanding. So when I start a class I will keep calm and strong and I am sure that many beautiful things will happen naturally.

I welcomed August in England but very soon flew over to Greece for the most efficient vacation ever. The percentage of spending time with family versus friends was ideal. I saw everybody who is important to me. I did MMM in the sunset on the beach, I greeted the sun in the morning and the stars in the night. I counted countless falling stars, but made no wishes. I have enjoyed the freedom of appreciating nature and not projecting myself to it. I bathed naked in the southern seas of Crete, played with the waves and laughed extensively. I even drunk salted water unwillingly, which I think it made me strong in the long term [tongue out smiley]. The evening cantata was a pure highlight, strolling down the beach singing an amazing variety of hits, from Cretan to Ionian and old Rembetiko songs and the sea tickling our feet.

My 30th birthday began on that beach, continued at home with my parents and a small heart-shaped chocolate cake. In the same evening, I went to my favourite bar in my home town, with two true friends, had my favourite cocktail. And then we ate at Goody's like 12-year-olds. Only special occasions deserve Goody's meals! Then in the weekend there was the big party with relatives, cousins and friends in my village. The food was so good and I had so much of it. I had fasolakia every day for the last 4 days on Crete. And I was never tired of them. I was tanking olive oil and taste of home to last for the whole winter in London.

Then as always I was deeply hurt to leave Crete but had a good feeling of going to Athens. I said what I wanted to say, did what I wanted to do. I am crystal clear to myself and satisfied with this. The ball is on the other side of the terrain. I was glad to see my "good news" friends along with Bill. The warm evening in Athens broke my heart, I couldn't help not dreaming of a life in Athens with further warm evenings and cool drinks. And air condition. And bedsheets. And love.

I left Athens sad but relieved and with a sense of duty for my work. The conference in London started the same day, but I was still struggling to return back to work mentally. And by the time the conference finished, work was already overwhelming. New ideas and a lot of encouragement form my boss. He is the best boss. Now we "just" need to get a new project funded so that I can realise my research ideas. And the research career will take off.

Alright, this update is a good enough approximation of how I felt about the most efficient vacation ever. It had everything I needed. And gave me strength and hope. All the very best.

(Later I found the song that summarises this summer's feeling in Elytis's poetry)

Ωδή στο αγόρι με τα μάτια τα μελιά

Ω κούρε που κοίτεσαι στο τραγανό ντιβάνι της καρδιάς μου
Πέτα το βλέμμα σου στην άβυσσο
Και πάρε με σε ταξίδι γλυκό
Να ξεχάσω τι αγαπώ και τι μισώ
Να μάθω να απολαμβάνω το λεπτό, την ώρα.

Ω κούρε όμορφε με το μεταξένιο δέρμα
την πληγές μου γιάτρεψε με το απαλό σου άγγιγμα
Στην πόλη αυτή που μ' έγδαρε και με δηλητηρίασε
τα γλυκά σου χείλη χάρισέ μου ξανά
Να μάθω να αφήνομαι απλά, βαθιά.

Ω κούρε με το καθάριο βλέμμα
θωρώ ευθεία στην ψυχή σου
και γίνομαι ξανά παιδί.

A poppy in my hands

The poppy in Anns garden filled my palms today. So big, so gorgeous.
Except the dazzling red, the colour that striked me was the dark matt purple of the seeds inside.
And the glowing black drawn petals inside the actual petals.
Such outstanding beauty!

Ann said we can now do the Smooth Step and think of the poppy.
I felt my hands move like opening petals and my legs grounded in the earth like the stable but also flexible poppy stalk.
So inspiring!

I so hope I can inspire people like Ann and the poppy did for me today.
Such greatness and gratefullness.

Wear sunscreen in London

Most people in London have forgotten how to have fun.
They are used to buying things, buying food, buying clothes, buying fun, buying drugs.
Drugs is an effortless way to have fun.

Why should that be cool?
I never considered laziness cool or sexy.
Why can't people just let loose and trust the others?
Why can't they open and let go of their fears?
So feared and miserable, yeah, continue doing drugs.

So, just not to end this post with a negative note, and to give an alternative approach to what I see in London:

Wear sunscreen!!

Thin border line

Listening to my favorite radio station playing this song:

 I came to some insights.

It's this thin and fusy border between braveness and masochism that keeps confusing me.
"Strong like me!" would Clayton say about me.
I would say yeah, yest strong like me and kind of careless like me.
Strong, I can take it. So let's hit and be hit.
And just a bit of sufferring is good, makes me feel alive.
Else, life is too boring.

In any case, the underlying principle (apart from being bored) is the least possible restriction of my freedom to express myself and live my life as I want. (oh, so much I, me, my and myself in one sentence..)
At the same time it is difficult to combine it with my need for warthm and cosyness.
I miss my friends. They would be a big hug and a shoulder to fall asleep on.
Then no unnecessary bonding would happen. Or maybe not.
But I cannot test it anyway, so no point in thinking about it.

My brother told me recently that a good practice is, when you talk to others, to try to forget what you want from them. I tried it yesterday and it was so liberating. But it is more difficult with the ones you want more of. I will keep trying though, cause it is most probably liberating for the other person, too. You would not impose any type of underlying pressure. And freedom is precious.

but you left a trace in my heart

Marburg.
Packing is sad. Wherever you are going. Packing is sad.
It forces you to think what to take and what to leave.
To leave behind, to give to people, to throw it in the rubbish bin.
One can take it positively, that they get rid of a lot of shit they have been accumulating through the years.
I find it hard to sort out. This might be useful sometime, and this, and this. Oh no, I can't get rid of this one. By no means.
Uh.
In the last drawer in my office I had, besides dry danish bread and two drops of virgin olive oil, all the Lingulelen songs. My eye fell on one line of our greatest hit "Kill all phoneticians":
"A trace can't keep want and to apart,
but you left a trace in my heart"
You left a trace in my heart Marburg.
And especially Lingulelen.
But I cannot hold back to sweet memories if they are hurting now.
Let's just pack them in and when I can sort them out again in London, I can write another melancholic post about how I am not going to re-live those glorious moments again.

Marburg, February 2016

Περί (ιδανικού) θανάτου

Σήμερα τον ένιωσα για πρώτη φορά.
Τον φόβο, τον τρόμο του θανάτου.
Συνέβη όταν διάβαζα για τον εγκέφαλο του Albert Einstein, ο οποίος πέθανε στα 75 του. (Όταν πήγαινα σχολείο μαθαίναμε ότι ο μέσος όρος ηλικίας στην Ελλάδα είναι 75 έτη.)
Αφορμή για το φόβο μου ήταν το γεγονός ότι η αυτοψία του Αινστάιν στο νοσοκομείο του Princeton έχει χαθεί εδώ και πάνω από 18 χρόνια.

Για κάποιον ανεξήγητο λόγο άρχισα να προσθέτω ερμηνείες σε αυτό το τυχαίο γεγονός.
Μήπως ο Αινστάιν να πέθανε εθελουσίως στα 75 του για να δείξει ότι αυτή είναι η ιδανική ηλικία θάνατου;
Οπότε άρχισα τις συγκρίσεις.
Αν η ιδανική ηλικία θανάτου είναι τα 75 χρόνια, τότε ο παππούς μου έζησε 17 χρόνια παραπάνω.
Αν λοιπόν πεθάνω ιδανικά στα 75, αυτό σημαίνει ότι έχω ήδη ζήσει τα 2/5 της ζωής μου.
Τότε είναι που τρόμαξα. Τότε ένιωσα ότι υπάρχει ένα ρολόι που χρονομετρά ανάποδα μέχρι τα 75 μου.
Σκέφτηκα πως το μετά (το θάνατο) δεν είναι συνειδητή επιλογή.
Για την ακρίβεια δεν είναι καν επιλογή. Είναι σαν αυτά τα "μαθήματα υποχρεωτικής επιλογής" που είχαμε στη σχολή.
Θα το πάρεις, γιατί είναι στο πρόγραμμα, άσχετο ποιό από τα επόμενα θα είναι:
θάνατος χωρίς μεταθανάτια ζωή,
θάνατος με ορθόδοξη μεταθανάτια ζωή,
καθολική (ή προτεσταντική) μεταθανάτια ζωή,
ισλαμοπαράδεισο,
ινδουιστική ανακύκλωση ψυχών.*

Η πρώτη μου διέξοδος ήταν να κάνω κάτι στη ζωή μου μεγάλο, να προσφέρω κάτι που να αξίζει, στην επιστήμη.
Όχι απλώς να αναπαράγω ανθρώπους και σχέσεις (χωρίς κριτική σε όλον τον υπέροχο κόσμο που προτιμά αυτήν την επιλογή), αλλά να δημιουργήσω κάτι με στόχο την ουσία και την υστεροφημία.
Ίσως έτσι να νιώσω ότι αυτά τα 75 χρόνια που μου αναλογούν δεν έχουν περάσει άσκοπα.
Αργότερα, μελαγχολώντας που πιθανότατα να μην φτάσω σε τέτοια επίπεδα υστεροφημίας, σκέφτηκα πεθαίνοντας να βοηθήσω κόσμο που έχει ανάγκη τα όργανά μου.
Η δωρεά οργάνων ως "μια κάποια λύσις" με ανακούφισε αρκετά, ωστόσο δεν με ικανοποίησε απόλυτα.

Πάντως από όλο αυτό το ταξίδι του νου, έμαθα πώς είναι αυτός ο ύψιστος φόβος, που δεν είχα νιώσει ποτέ ως τώρα, ατρόμητη όπως πάντα.


Λονδίνο, 14 Μαρτίου 2016


* Η λίστα είναι ενδεικτική, αλλά σίγουρα η όποια επιλογή θα περιλαμβάνει θάνατο. Με σεβασμό προς όλες τις θρησκείες.