Sunday 12 October 2014

WARNING! Our heroes fade away...

So, yesterday, I visited my uncle’s village. It’s a beautiful small group of houses hidden in the mountains. It has a lake not far from his house, and a beautiful lonely church standing a bit aside from the main village, as if watching the people from above. I am more of a sea person, but I kind of enjoy nature in all its forms… If it ever came to a choice between mountains and the sea, I‘d definitely go with the sea option. Yet, nature amazes me in every possible way. Laying in the grass, watching the sky and admiring the lake while the only music around me comes from the bird singing and the winds soft whisper in the tree leaves… it’s like a fairytale! It’s freedom!






As a city child, I ‘ve never had had the opportunity of spending hours running in the wild, exploring caves and forests or swimming on a lake – possibly searching for all sort of magical creatures and treasures hiding out there. On the contrary I was spending my time reading books about unicorns and fairies, warlocks and witches and dreaming of the moment that this world of magic would finally open its doors to me! I believed that, just like Alice, I would drop into a rabbit’s hole or maybe a fairy would fly one night through my window and take me to a magical place hidden between the stars. Sometimes, I even imagined finding a dragon and with him I‘d travel the world or sailing all the way through the sunset with a golden ship made of sunshine. God knows how many years I‘ve waited for my Hogwarts letter to arrive – wondering what might have happened to my owl or how I wished I ‘d discover a wardrobe leading to Narnia.



Day by day, I was adding more and more heroes in my collection. So many, that I could not possibly write about all of them here. It was as if the letters were rising from the white pages of my books forming weird bridges between fantasy and reality. One day I was wearing a mask and a bed sheet pretending to be a great swordsman like Zorro and the next one I was off to an adventure with D’Artanian, Luke Skywalker or the Black Tulip! Oh, and those great trips with the Black Pearl and vicious pirates while plowing across the seven seas? What could I possibly say about them?  Funny how fast a princess can turn into an assassin or an avenger when you are a child , is it not?




I am a grown up girl now. I know, or more likely I got used to the idea that such fairytales and wonderful creatures don’t exist in the real world. I’ve learnt that humans can’t grow wings and that horses cannot fly. I ‘ve learnt all the rules of Chemistry and Physics – with a part of me still hopping that somewhere in there lies the answer of why we can’t find all the wonders we imagine. I also became fond of new heroes. I dreamt of having a chat with Leonardo DaVinci or Newton. I imagined of what it would be like to have a cup of tea with Queen Victoria in the Buckingham palace. I started to dress like Lady Dianna – adding class and style into my everyday life. My whole life I was an undercover cosplayer of all the heroes – both real and not real – who made an impact to my personality. I‘ve met them all. I know them all so well. And still, I carry each and every one of them in my heart.





Even now, even though it’s been a long long time since I started realising that the  Disney princesses where only beautiful drawings with an inspiring message, a part of me denies to accept that all this colourful childhood was only a fraud of writers and directors who played with my mind. I admit that I am still looking forward to the next Disney or Barbie movie. And that the last few years I became a Viking who could tame dragons and a Celtic princess who was extremely talented on archery. I’ve spent a lot of afternoons with the company of young Merlin and Arthur (sometimes making research about the whole Arthurian legend and trying to separate facts from myth with help from the Knight Malory) I laughed and cried with them, sometimes both at the same time to be honest. Then a dear friend of me helped me make an acquaintance with a new kind of Sherlock Holmes. Having read the original tales from Arthur Conan Doyle, I was surprised seeing the weird and vagarious hero being even weirder and an extreme “high functional sociopath” placed in the modern world. At first, it was not pleasant for me to see the hero I’ve always imagined sitting by the fire, using cellphones and acting all crazy-er that the usual Sherlock.





Until now, all I‘ve done was mumbling about my childhood’s and present dreams and illusions. You may wonder “what was the point of even reading all of this”? Well, I can’t help but notice that the last few years children are lacking their childishness. They don’t dream anymore. They don’t go to adventures. They don’t want to spend a day on the wild. They just want stand in front of a computer screen scrolling their way out of their problems. Watching my baby cousin handling a tablet yesterday with such ease it made me wonder: Is technology starting to invade our DNA? We made technology to conquer the world. Instead it starts to consume our lives, stealing our moments and dreams. Most children don’t ask dolls for Christmas anymore only for the new iPhone. That may be quite normal for a teenager, but do you really feel it’s normal for a child? I never wanted a stupid cellphone when I was young. I wanted a unicorn plushie. Don’t you feel like the heroes we so loved are left forgotten and covered in dust while vulgar and precocious Antonella (From the Patty TV show) and more weird creatures (aka Monster high dolls holding coffins and stuff) steal their show? Since when vulgar is a replacement for elegance?  Why bring a child – the very source of life - close to death by giving them creepy looking dolls?  Your kids still have the ability of dreaming. Just teach them the way.






It’s true that even though I have spent countless nights searching among the stars I never found a way to Neverland and that, at least until now, I ‘ve never found a secret door leading to Wonderland. Still, sometimes, a voice, like a whisper in my mind tells me that maybe this little secret path does exist. If not, how could people write about all those thing? Was Tolkien crazy? I seriously doubt it. I came to discover that maybe this entrance hides somewhere in this world. And if we cannot literally cross paths with it within a magic cave or an enchanted forest we will definitely find it inside our hearts. I know how to dream. I know how to grow wings. I’ve learnt how to fly. Do you?
-E.T.




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