me me me
Safe To Love, 2018 / memoir
Safe to Love is an intimate journal of personal healing oozing joie de vivre, compassion and disclosure that travels one man’s emotional rollercoaster towards an unstoppable spiritual expansion. In an accounting that is a timeless message from a father to his own children, Borut Lesjak unlocks the battered doors to the chambered stories of his childhood, adolescence, and adulthood in Slovenia, exposing the neural veins of his innermost psychology in a naked juxtaposition of both chaos and harmony.
The voluptuous grey clouds press down hard on the world, coating it shades darker. The old red diesel bus wheezes loudly as it negotiates a right turn and the passengers lean to the left in search of balance. My hands tentatively reach for support on the worn green seat upholstery, but my touch is ghostlike and reluctant. My shoulders tense. I was raised in a way that I never feel completely safe in an unclean place.
The road is bumpy. A few remaining raindrops from this morning's shower dance around on the window. They trickle down and out of sight. A parade of majestic beech trees inject life to a dozen bleak buildings clustered around a concrete desert. I imagine the multitudes of picturesque people living there and their personal dramatic lives. Having spent my carefree childhood in a forsaken hamlet on the outskirts of town, roaming the surrounding scented grass fields and mystical shady forests, I almost feel sorry for city folk.
My attention zooms in to a tiny playground in front of an apartment building, where a couple of boys are sitting in a sandpit. As we drive closer, I notice they are twins, three to four years old. They play with tree twigs and discarded chunks of wood. Their delicate, placid and pale expressions appear too distant, too distracted for their gentle age. Their shorts and oversized t-shirts seem inherited from an older sibling or cousin. Both wear glasses with thick brown plastic frames. My perennial fear of being drafted to need glasses myself stirs pity in my soul.
A mere moment before the bus accelerates away to hyperspace, the boy with his back towards me swivels halfway around. His glasses are broken. Somebody has temporarily fixed them by taping the lens with a beige bandage strip. The lead of sadness sinks my heart. I see the deepest hurt of humanity.
I hasten to wipe a single hot tear away with my sleeve. Another turn of the road, and they're gone.
About a Boy
A transparent and authentic poetic expression of who I deeply feel I am.
In the vibrant heart of the dream,
in the lands of fantasy and fairy tales
where the shining white magic still rules and creates,
there was something going on.
A longing, a yearning, some rapt curiosity.
A soft and innocent spirit that lived there forever
started to wonder,
“Where do all the beings who visit here come from?
Where do they live?
How do they live?
Who are they?”
It wanted to know.
So it decided to find the answers
and it took a great leap
crossing over to the world of the brave,
to the home of human beings,
where nothing is any longer just as it seems.
(an excerpt from my blog post here)