Two nights ago I came back home by taxi and upon arrival, the driver asked me: ”Miss, aren’t you afraid of gunshots since you leave right next to the military unit, maybe something goes wrong and then a bullet, you know…” I looked at him with surprise and I said no, I am not afraid of this. But then I started thinking about what I am really scared of. I am scared of the hatred we are all capable of, I am afraid of the dark side that lies in each and everyone of us. For some it is closer to the surface and for others it is hidden more in the depths of our soul. It is there all the time and merely requires a certain context to burst out like flames.
Controlling the dark side, or call it the shadow if you want, is an individual responsibility.
Connecting to mass emotion is very dangerous because if it happens, the line between personal emotion and collective emotion becomes so blurred and unclear. Connecting to mass emotion can give us an unconscious pretext to unleash that dark side we all carry inside, so again, understanding our dark side and hatred potential should be done at individual level.
Unfortunately, there are times when we cannot make a conscious decision if we want to connect to mass emotion or not, the collective wave just comes with its tremendous force and carries us with it.
A group hating another group is the premise for war. And maybe wars will cease to exist if we all understand that what can bring us together is love and what tears us apart is hatred. Of course, the universal acknowledgement of this is an utopia and I don’t think it will happen during my lifetime. There are many situations that could make us bitter or revengeful. It is matter of personal choice in the end if we choose to let resentment grow or to practice compassion, but the only thing that holds the power of healing is love.
I dreamt about plane crashes, war, fire and Syrian children last night. It was one of those strong, vivid dreams that makes one unable to rest anymore. I was on an open field and saw the imminence of a plane crash. I started running, aware of the explosion that will follow the forced touch down. And when I knew I could not avoid the outburst anymore, I just laid on the ground, but not in a defensive position, I was laying on my back, face upwards, looking at the sky and waiting for the inevitable to happen.
I could feel the flames burning the upper part of my legs. I did not feel hurt, but as if a new layer was added to my skin. When I touched my legs, I realised they were covered in candle wax. It’s strange that the people who died of fire are commemorated with candlelight fire as well, I told myself. I got up and kept walking, until I met at some point a group of children. I knew they were refugees.
They seemed very quiet and sad and just looked at me. As if they were trying to tell me something in their own silent way. I looked back at all of them, until my eyes met the last of them. He was a beautiful child, who had only one giant eye covering most of his face. An amber greyish eye that looked very deep and wise and beautiful. I remembered a painting of a lady Cyclops I did about one year ago. I still don’t know why I did the painting precisely like that and it will probably take me a long time to understand what that eye of a child was trying to tell me.
Laura Livia Grigore is a poet, painter and psychology enthusiast, with a background in space engineering. She likes to experiment with various mediums and types of writing. Her artwork is orientated on emotions, reflecting her opinion that most of the answers we need can be found inside ourselves, although the hardest thing to do is to be sincere with oneself.