In this poem of my home I return in a nostalgic way to my childhood, to the maternal and paternal house and I do it from a sense of loss of a very specific place, the garden or inner courtyard, and detailed grotto, jar, lemon tree, stone paths, perfect spaces to dream, play and grow.
A microcosm of my childhood, of an Edenic time (Eden), a small paradise lost.
My childhood is just that, a world made of fragments of happiness and broken glass. I think that everyone when we are adults at some point lives this spiritual experience, a sense of loss.
Definitely to grow is to leave behind, and this retrospective gaze intensifies over the years and sometimes even becomes unreal to us, because the imagination does its job of re-creation.
This is how the houses of our childhood remain, they remain in silence, in the happy patchwork years of our childhood. Everything was left behind, but nevertheless, I always return to my memory, to relive the smells, flavors, colors of those years.
Nostalgia swirling in the drawer of my earliest dreams. With countless meanings and interpretations.
And after this we grow, time passes, we say, but in truth who passes is one, each one, in our immanent, biological, earthly dimension. We are born and die and we call life the one that happens between both events and collectively, as humanity or society, we call it history, the cultural microcosm from which we have created chronologies and dates, with particular calendars, although the dominant one at the global level ended up being common time.
It seems like a lie, but for everyone in practice in those 24 hours nothing changes, of course psychologically and symbolically we close one cycle and open another, we take inventory, we propose, we promise things, purposes desires, etc. It is a very short temporary period of confession and purpose of amendment.
This reflection that I am sharing with you today is a form of the necessary will to face the many trials that, as an adult, life has in store for me. It is a kind of moral and spiritual courage that implies my character and conviction that is based between thinking and doing, between life and behavior.
From my childhood home, I learned about personal pride, which is basically just an awareness of my own dignity that implies respecting myself and others in order to grow with mettle and spirit.
This is the poetry that lives in my childhood home, I can't define it, I just know that personally I like the way my microcosm was and it moves me.
Janitze 🌹
Separator made with Canva by @janitzearratia
Any images in this post are taken with my iPhone 12, the Infinix pro-note 30 or with the camera eighties Rolleiflex 2.8 f, and edited by me with Canva
Translation with |DeepL