Aquí un carta que me inspiro a hacer este ejercicio:
Dear Sea,
I love you, but I know you do not
care about me. That is ok with
me. I like that epic, aching feeling
of being ignored. I don’t know
why my dear sea, but when I first
got on that surfboard and rode
your waves I knew this was what
I'd been missing all my life. Finally
I found a way to spend hours in
the water without having to swim
and without being contained by
some structure like a boat. For a
water lover like me this was a
revelation. It was you, that great
blue blob that filled that black
hole inside of me. I felt touched
by a teenage sadness that I hadn’t
discovered you earlier.
I love you sea, because you offer
me contradictions. When I enter
your water my human dimension
is being extended to a kinship
with something non-human. The
institution of water, it rules from
the head down. The voice of my
body is no longer governed by
reason. Fears, drifts and desires
take the mic. That's why I sing for
you, dear Sea: "From the body of
the sea to the body of me". It
might sound silly, but I am a little
bit afraid of you and I like that.
The more I fear the more I desire
life. A proportional exchange;
because ultimately the things I
live for are the things I die for.
Still, even though I fear you, I feel
invited with an integrity I normally
never encounter. It makes me
remember my place in a universe
with no special privilege for
humans on this planet. I feel
humbled by this awareness. The
daily drama of my intellect
dissolves. My thoughts get
washed up on the beach and
make space for a tinkling delight.
I look at them from a distance, a
huge pile of disorganized waste.
Now, being divorced from my own
negativity leaves me with nothing
left to escape from. It is my return
to the moment.
I often miss your good waves,
because of my good ideas. That is
when you slap me, because I
know you don't care about my
ideas. They are useless in your
existence, in your experience of
time. You just keep doing your
thing, like Tina Turner, rolling.
Because no fact stays true for long
when it's reflected by something
as ancient as you, my dear sea.
The only thing that matters to you
is what is felt most deeply. And
plastic, I know you don't like that.
Who are you I wonder? Every time
we meet you are different.
Sometimes you feel like a
grandma, sometimes you are a
fierce and untamable maiden and
sometimes you are like a young,
innocent boy singing out in the
choir, completely in tune with his
surroundings. You never leave my
mind.I am extending you while
you are re-inventing me. I know
that love is just something to
mundane for you, but are we
having a relationship, dear sea?
Could I be gay after all? Or do you
feel so familiar because I am
water too.
I am trying to defeat my human
capacity by walking on water. It is
out of question to cheat. This is
your game where neither the
political nor the spiritual rule. I
can’t fake anything here. Perhaps
Jesus was a surfer too. You
probably know, maybe one day
you will tell me.
Saying I am a surfer sometimes
feels oddly religious, like I’m
Christian or a Muslim. But I
acknowledge that there is a truth
to this. If surfing is my religion
then seeing the sunrise from your
waters is the cathedral. But your
cathedral has no walls. It is a
place without promises. Neither
are there any picture postcards of
some otherworldly, never-ending
holiday destinations. You are not
claiming the absolute, not even
for the sake of a good argument.
Somehow the only thing you show
is that everything is exactly as it
should be.
Dear sea, it is through your
permanence and unshared stories
that I become aware of my own
ending. Nothing of me will last.
There are many days I think I
prefer to spend the rest of my
time as a bad surfer then an OK
artist. Or really, I am just going to
say it,.. as a mermaid.
Love,M
In de rubriek BRIEF AAN vragen we iemand uit de kunstwereld een brief te schrijven aan
iemand, dood of levend, om een kwestie aan te kaarten die hem of haar zeer ter harte
gaat. In deze aflevering schrijft Melanie Bonajo (winnaar MK Award) een brief aan de zee.
DEZE TEKST IS GEPUBLICEERD IN
METROPOLIS M Nr 5-2013
