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HAPPY BIRTHDAY
- © by Eva Maria Franchi
all rights protected and reserved -
It was during a shiny summer day on the way home after an afternoon of sun and sea.
An absent-minded lady driving a bit too fast - now that she is nearly home she feels secure. - a windy narrow street with gravel spread all over it - a car suddenly appears in front of her - she quickly moves to the right and brakes Oscar.
Oscar slides; the girl feels the lovely rough wall with her naked arm and bangs her feet.
By the way, Oscar is the name of my scooter.
Happy birthday! It’s going to be tomorrow.
One of the most clever, comforting questions they ask you when you have an accident is: "but how did you make it happen?"
And they insist; you are hurting, demoralised and you also have to put up with a trial.
If you hadn’t done this. If you hadn’t done that. How could you have been so stupid? It wouldn’t have happened if…etc. etc.
To cheer you up, friends tell you with a certain satisfaction about the accident of their life, like a soldier of the past times would boast of his war injuries. But if you happen to hurt yourself just the day before you have organised a party at your home and if the people that come to visit follow a certain wave of thinking, poor you!
"Every accident that happens to you has a reason."
"We are responsible for everything that occurs to us. "
"Are you sure you are happy? Are you sure you are satisfied? Are you sure that a hidden part of you didn’t intend to suicide? What does this accident mean to you?" etc. etc.
I WANT MUMMY!
That’s my only answer, in spite of pride.
Once upon a time they used to coddle you after an accident, now, although people show care, you have to go through the trial.
This remind me of what Giorgio used to say about psychology: " I had a friend who had plenty of girls and a satisfactory sexual life… then someone pushed him to see a psychologist. The result? He came back with an Oedipus complex and plenty of problems he had never thought he had before"
A bit too cynical?
I don’t know. I’m very credulous and very sceptical at the same time.
To think that in my foolish mind I wanted to celebrate my birthday with a sensual dance!
Oscar Wilde played Salome? Why not me? My body and my curves are much better than his (very modest girl, girl, that’s the point, girl) I thought a few days before the accident.
Instead, I spent it with swollen feet and a grazed arm watching other people dancing and having fun.
It wasn’t so tragic anyway, although the arm burnt a lot.
I gave people a reason to feel important and helpful. It’s in human nature to feel pleased if you have the opportunity to give some good advice, so that was probably the purpose of my accident.
Kidding or serious? I sincerely don’t know at the moment I’m writing if my intent is sarcastic -in part it is, in part it isn’t.
Kidding in seriousness, that’s probably the right answer.
" Are you going to take medicine?"
" Why don't you try a clay compress? It absorbs swelling."
"Do you know that you shouldn't touch clay with metal?"
"I know a cream that is fantastic!"
Etc. etc. Plenty of good advice. Everybody has the opportunity to be useful and caring thanks to me.
Laura, my friend and homeopath, tries out some remedies on me in a very informal way. I have to lift my arm holding some medicine; she tests my strength by trying to push it down, if the medicine is correct my arm must react stronger. I generally avoid taking medicine of any kind: allophonic or so-called "natural" but - considering the situation - I decide to trust Laura and to throw the prescription the family doctor gave me in the dustbin.
Everybody wants to help and to share their knowledge, but, among the friends that visited me that day, the sweetest memory in my mind is Alice, my little six-year-old pal. She looks at me seriously and asks:
" Why don’t you walk on your feet instead of using a motorbike? It’s much safer."
She looks like a little Buddha- a Tibetan monk- her hair is very short, her body as loose as a contortionist. I’m not sure about reincarnation but Alice really seems like a wise old soul in the body of a lovely little girl.
Then she gives me a gift: her rag doll with a happy smile sewed on.
Thanks Alice, I don’t mind if it seems rhetorical, but it’s one of the most pleasing presents that I have ever received in my life.
We all move inside the veranda next to my house. Inside? Through the glass walls we can watch the show of mountains, trees, flowers, birds and all the nature around us - and the trees, the mountains, the flowers, the birds seem to be spectators of our show.
The atmosphere is peaceful, shiny and clear like this warming end of summer day.
Cinzia is teaching some sacred dances she has learned in Austria from Wosien. You don't need to be a trained dancer with a loose body to take part in it - everybody can participate- but it requires total attention and awareness of the sequence of movements you're performing - it's a sort of meditation in movement - if your mind flies away you make a mistake in the dance. Every movement has an allegorical meaning - every movement is a prayer. The final dance she proposes to us only requires the use of arms, so I can take part in it.
They are all happy. They thank me for my cooking and the greedy cake I made notwithstanding the accident. "Can I have the recipe?" asks Carmen.
Lots of kisses, thanks, best wishes for me, and the promise to organise these parties more often.
They have all left.
I’m alone with Giorgio and let him medicate me.
"Happy birthday, darling"
Now I can take a rest.
"Speaking of herbal remedies what about some smoke to relax and forget the pain?" He suggests.
I'm not a smoker, really - I never took up the habit - but sometimes I like to take a drag and that day I felt like smoking the entire world.
"I think I’ll celebrate my next birthday performing the dance of the seven veils." I inform him, after almost half a joint.
But now some music and relaxation.
Bowie is singing Always crashing in the same car…
E-mail: evamaria@ecodance.com
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