LETTER TO A DISTANT CLOSE FRIEND

Dear Kathy,
I wish I could see the wild flowers in the desert with you. I almost did, reading your wonderful letter. Once, quite a few years ago, I went to Las Vegas and had gone to the desert for a whole day.
The strange beauty in it fascinated me. All those wide spaces, the changing colors of the landscape, the feeling of our real but very, very tiny size compared to the outside world. Reminded me of another experience into the depth when I dived in Cozumel and I was marvelled and scared to death at the same time.
Now, thinking about this, I felt that, into the ocean or into the desert, I've had two possibilities:
Being terrified by the grandeur of the experience and allowing that I could be crushed by it. Or allowing that I could blend in it, in that strange but wonderful feeling of belonging to something much bigger than me, being part of with without trying to know or control the feelings.
In one time, I ran away and lost a wonderful opportunity to live a new experience. Another time, I chose to stay. It worthed every second. I've been facing and running away from life. Definetely erratic!
I think that both experiences you've told me - the desert and the meeting with the astronaut lady are linked in this point - they are the amazing experience of facing something supposedly well known, but finding that the are not, at all, known.
The wondrous fact is that the same fragility that almost scares you is the proof of your strength. The complexity of human being is something that I love. Or hate. It depends on the day. “Oh, brave new world...”
I’m pretty sure that we are like those wild flowers in the desert. Seeemly fragile, but with a resilience inside that make us blossom, even in adverse conditions.
Thanks for reminding me that we can choose more than one path when going on. I was almost forgetting that we can be crushed by our limitations or we can marvel and believe in the capacity of surviving and blossoming, despite everything.
A couple of days ago, I was talking to a dear friend and she told me that I was too pragmatic lately, analyzing experiences in a very sensible but quite detached, cold way.
I answered her that I’m not like that. Pragmatic? If I were only sensible, I would die!
And she told me that’s why she thought I wasn’t in my “normal” self. I stopped to think and felt that it made sense!
Lately, I’m trying to live without magic, but being sensible is not enough to me. I miss so much the magic of being enchanted by life, falling in love with someone or life itself, that I feel that, by some stupid way, I’m trying to erase those feelings in me just because it’s hard to find them, at the moment. The “pragmatic” result is that I almost lose myself. As there’s a say in Portuguese: throw out the water bain and the baby goes out with it.
It’s like a battle inside. Dreams and expectations whispers behind closed doors even if you feel there is no magic in everyday life. In those moments you cannot see beyond the concrete. It’s difficult to believe in what is not here, at our reach.
I remember a famous scene in Peter Pan’s play when, to save the fairies, every child had to yell that they believe in them. Adults are quite unable to do that, that’s why Peter asked children to help him. This is magic. To believe in something you cannot see. If you let this belief die, a part of you dies also. I tend to forget that feelling this is like an inner fire. As any fire you have to fuel it with what you get to keep the fire alive
So, this is my actual dilemma. I think I cannot cope life without seeing light and enchantment and, at the same time, I’m exercising myself to wear dark glasses 24 hours a day!
Well, I’ve got your wonderful letter today. It enlightened my day. Thank you, my dear friend. Thank you a lot!
Love,
Nina