Manuela Cardiga's Blog, page 15
October 8, 2016
Happy Birthday to my Angel
Today is the 8th of October and a very special day for me, my friend Trudie's birthday.
Trudie and I became friends at Tech, where we were both studying Fashion Design, and our friendship continued long after. We discovered, much to our delight, that we were ALMOST twins! Trudie was the elder by a mere 7 days: her birthday was October 8th. More astonishing to us: her Mother was in Lourenço Marques the very day before she was born, where my Mother resided. We imagined these two bellies sailing past each other, unaware that their passenger’s paths would cross again and again.
We shared all the usual experiences: fell in love, out of love, had our hopes dashed or uplifted. We were like synchronized swimmers: I moved to Portugal, she to Germany. We clung to each other in our homesickness, our stubborn decision not to go back, even though we longed to; even though our hearts were breaking. For several years we exchanged letters, phone calls, she spent holidays in Portugal, I in Germany. Trudie got married, I went to Germany for the wedding (she wore a pretty blouse I had as “something borrowed” for the registry) and after that, somehow, we lost touch. Time and again I tried to reach her. My life got complicated, as I presume hers did too.
Then a couple of years ago I signed on to Face Book. I did so in the expectation of finding all those dear faces from my past I’d lost touch with; and the first face I looked for, and the one I did not find, was hers.
Trudie Ristau had passed away at thirty-six.
What can I say about my friend? The first word that occurs to me in relation to Trudie is “generous”. Trudie had a generous heart. She was the kindest person I ever knew. She was generous with her friendship and her love; and she was generous in her judgments, sometimes to a fault.
She was devoid of both of deceit and self-deception and she faced adversity with courage and a zany sense of humor. She had the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, not a polite little curving of the lips: never! Trudie’s smile was a huge (generous) GRIN; actually a grin and a wink.
Did I say we were almost twins? We were the oddest pair, for I am a chubby 5 foot 2 brunette and she was a very tall (well over 6 foot) statuesque blond and looked rather like a Norse Goddess in repose. My Mother called her “The Valkyrie”.
Of course, no-one ever saw Trudie in repose: she barreled through life with her long legged stride and bouncing enthusiasm; an endless appetite for fun. She moved in the center of a standing wave of chaos: weird and wonderful things happened to her, minor events burgeoned into cataclysms; all with hilarious results. She made everything seem somehow larger than life, bigger, better, brighter. Everything she did, she did with an amazing devotion and energy. But somewhere along the way my dearest girl got sick.
Cancer.
She had a husband and two toddlers by then, two girls. I can only imagine what she went though, the anguish and the pain. Trudie and her sister had been raised by her Father, and one of the things she missed was that mother/daughter connection. I imagined the idea of her daughters’ going through the very same experience must have been the bitterest pill to swallow.
But do you know? Her husband and her sister have told me that her determination was unabated, her grin undimmed. The Doctors and Nurses from the Oncology Department would “swing” by her room at shifts’ end to “bathe” in that smile, that joy. Even on her last days, when she could no longer speak, her light still shone. Her grin, her love.
You cannot imagine the impact her passing had on me. I found myself asking: what have I done with my life? How she must have longed for one more year, and what had I done?
She's made me reevaluate everything.
I started living again, reaching for my dreams, for happiness.
In the last few years, I’ve done all the things we two talked about on those sultry evenings, sitting on the back steps of Steel Street in Durban all those years ago.
I wrote books,wrote a play; designed book covers, graphic novels and illustrated two Series of children’s books, I am writing this Blog, putting myself out there, getting published, taking chances.
On a personal level, I've taken a lot of steps and done many things inspired by her. I’ve learned to demand the love and respect I deserve in my personal life. I can do no less.
Trudie's changed my life so much. Her courage has given me such strength. I've started living, doing all the things I've been afraid of; valuing my life, myself so much more. Giving myself. This is what she taught me. Waste no time, love as much as you can, keep smiling.
Thank you, my dear, for your light, your joy, that gorgeous grin.
I miss you.
Happy birthday and sleep tight my warrior Angel.
Trudie and I became friends at Tech, where we were both studying Fashion Design, and our friendship continued long after. We discovered, much to our delight, that we were ALMOST twins! Trudie was the elder by a mere 7 days: her birthday was October 8th. More astonishing to us: her Mother was in Lourenço Marques the very day before she was born, where my Mother resided. We imagined these two bellies sailing past each other, unaware that their passenger’s paths would cross again and again.
We shared all the usual experiences: fell in love, out of love, had our hopes dashed or uplifted. We were like synchronized swimmers: I moved to Portugal, she to Germany. We clung to each other in our homesickness, our stubborn decision not to go back, even though we longed to; even though our hearts were breaking. For several years we exchanged letters, phone calls, she spent holidays in Portugal, I in Germany. Trudie got married, I went to Germany for the wedding (she wore a pretty blouse I had as “something borrowed” for the registry) and after that, somehow, we lost touch. Time and again I tried to reach her. My life got complicated, as I presume hers did too.
Then a couple of years ago I signed on to Face Book. I did so in the expectation of finding all those dear faces from my past I’d lost touch with; and the first face I looked for, and the one I did not find, was hers.
Trudie Ristau had passed away at thirty-six.
What can I say about my friend? The first word that occurs to me in relation to Trudie is “generous”. Trudie had a generous heart. She was the kindest person I ever knew. She was generous with her friendship and her love; and she was generous in her judgments, sometimes to a fault.
She was devoid of both of deceit and self-deception and she faced adversity with courage and a zany sense of humor. She had the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, not a polite little curving of the lips: never! Trudie’s smile was a huge (generous) GRIN; actually a grin and a wink.
Did I say we were almost twins? We were the oddest pair, for I am a chubby 5 foot 2 brunette and she was a very tall (well over 6 foot) statuesque blond and looked rather like a Norse Goddess in repose. My Mother called her “The Valkyrie”.
Of course, no-one ever saw Trudie in repose: she barreled through life with her long legged stride and bouncing enthusiasm; an endless appetite for fun. She moved in the center of a standing wave of chaos: weird and wonderful things happened to her, minor events burgeoned into cataclysms; all with hilarious results. She made everything seem somehow larger than life, bigger, better, brighter. Everything she did, she did with an amazing devotion and energy. But somewhere along the way my dearest girl got sick.
Cancer.
She had a husband and two toddlers by then, two girls. I can only imagine what she went though, the anguish and the pain. Trudie and her sister had been raised by her Father, and one of the things she missed was that mother/daughter connection. I imagined the idea of her daughters’ going through the very same experience must have been the bitterest pill to swallow.
But do you know? Her husband and her sister have told me that her determination was unabated, her grin undimmed. The Doctors and Nurses from the Oncology Department would “swing” by her room at shifts’ end to “bathe” in that smile, that joy. Even on her last days, when she could no longer speak, her light still shone. Her grin, her love.
You cannot imagine the impact her passing had on me. I found myself asking: what have I done with my life? How she must have longed for one more year, and what had I done?
She's made me reevaluate everything.
I started living again, reaching for my dreams, for happiness.
In the last few years, I’ve done all the things we two talked about on those sultry evenings, sitting on the back steps of Steel Street in Durban all those years ago.
I wrote books,wrote a play; designed book covers, graphic novels and illustrated two Series of children’s books, I am writing this Blog, putting myself out there, getting published, taking chances.
On a personal level, I've taken a lot of steps and done many things inspired by her. I’ve learned to demand the love and respect I deserve in my personal life. I can do no less.
Trudie's changed my life so much. Her courage has given me such strength. I've started living, doing all the things I've been afraid of; valuing my life, myself so much more. Giving myself. This is what she taught me. Waste no time, love as much as you can, keep smiling.
Thank you, my dear, for your light, your joy, that gorgeous grin.
I miss you.
Happy birthday and sleep tight my warrior Angel.
October 2, 2016
October 1, 2016
September 28, 2016
September 27, 2016
I THINK I NEED A DRINK NOW...
ME: Ines has just discovered fractals, and she freaking out
IVAN: What are fractals I've heard the word before
ME: Ok...Imagine an object, like a snowflake, and you zoom in and the fractional parts of the objects are identical to the whole, infinitely.
IVAN: Ah
ME: So the closer you zoom in the more there is like the universe see?
IVAN: Yep
ME: The inside is the outside, small is big and never ends, so she's freaking out.
IVAN: Yep, as above so below.
ME:So I says that's what poetry is.
IVAN: Yes
ME: Some math dork discovered what peeps have been drawing in mandalas for thousands of years. This shit is what art is for.
IVAN: Yep.
ME: They try use an artificial language (math) to describe what art describes: the ultimate equation to the theory for everything will be one image -like the sight of the holy grail- that will be so overwhelming and so comprehensible at first glance that the spectator dies.
IVAN: The observer sees himself: BANG!
ME: Yep! So funny the search is circular: always the same and then forgotten, so it can begin again like time - circular.
IVAN: Exactly, we drink from the cup of forgetting, so we can remember on each awakening.
ME: Yes! I think that quantum waves are tubes so the particles travel-surf back - and forward too -
only back and forward depends on a fixed point see? and there IS no fixed point anywhere and it all spins and sways like the dervishes. That is what I think.
IVAN: I think i need a drink now.
from "Conversations with Ivan Shapiro"
IVAN: What are fractals I've heard the word before
ME: Ok...Imagine an object, like a snowflake, and you zoom in and the fractional parts of the objects are identical to the whole, infinitely.
IVAN: Ah
ME: So the closer you zoom in the more there is like the universe see?
IVAN: Yep
ME: The inside is the outside, small is big and never ends, so she's freaking out.
IVAN: Yep, as above so below.
ME:So I says that's what poetry is.
IVAN: Yes
ME: Some math dork discovered what peeps have been drawing in mandalas for thousands of years. This shit is what art is for.
IVAN: Yep.
ME: They try use an artificial language (math) to describe what art describes: the ultimate equation to the theory for everything will be one image -like the sight of the holy grail- that will be so overwhelming and so comprehensible at first glance that the spectator dies.
IVAN: The observer sees himself: BANG!
ME: Yep! So funny the search is circular: always the same and then forgotten, so it can begin again like time - circular.
IVAN: Exactly, we drink from the cup of forgetting, so we can remember on each awakening.
ME: Yes! I think that quantum waves are tubes so the particles travel-surf back - and forward too -
only back and forward depends on a fixed point see? and there IS no fixed point anywhere and it all spins and sways like the dervishes. That is what I think.
IVAN: I think i need a drink now.
from "Conversations with Ivan Shapiro"
September 24, 2016
September 23, 2016
September 22, 2016
BABEL SHOULD BE SEEN,NOT HEARDi have been drawingsketchin...
BABEL SHOULD BE SEEN,
NOT HEARD
i have been
drawing
sketching
doodling
kaleidoscoping
black faces
all my life
beautiful
hideous,
loving
hateful
kind
threatening
heart-rending
face after face
an endless parade
a race to unfold
dark power
opening
in smooth slick spill
oily ink on the
whitest empty page
i think i will
single them out
one by one
fill each page
with one face
coming
out of the dark
would you like to play
the analysis game?
make the complex plain
give the thing a name?
shall we say:
the subconscious fear
of a white child in Africa?
fearful fascination
with the forbidden?
a gulp of guilt?
or is it just
the worse of all:simplest
unexplainable magic
summoned faces
from the past
slivers of the future
peeking through
shattered barriers
magic spray-painted
in blood on brain
on the only cavern
inside which
we still cower
freeing the ghosts
planting strange flowers
or giving birth
to a multitude
destined to build
mythic towers
MC
NOT HEARD
i have been
drawing
sketching
doodling
kaleidoscoping
black faces
all my life
beautiful
hideous,
loving
hateful
kind
threatening
heart-rending
face after face
an endless parade
a race to unfold
dark power
opening
in smooth slick spill
oily ink on the
whitest empty page
i think i will
single them out
one by one
fill each page
with one face
coming
out of the dark
would you like to play
the analysis game?
make the complex plain
give the thing a name?
shall we say:
the subconscious fear
of a white child in Africa?
fearful fascination
with the forbidden?
a gulp of guilt?
or is it just
the worse of all:simplest
unexplainable magic
summoned faces
from the past
slivers of the future
peeking through
shattered barriers
magic spray-painted
in blood on brain
on the only cavern
inside which
we still cower
freeing the ghosts
planting strange flowers
or giving birth
to a multitude
destined to build
mythic towers
MC
