What does it mean to be a true...?

About being a true writer.

I’m reading now a French book of Jean-Philippe Toussant “L’urgence et la patience”. What does it mean to be a writer, how is it to write books? Actually, I think it’s about being an artist in general, being a creator. “L’urgence” is what some people call “inspiration”, some people say it’s when you just can’t keep silence, when you NEED to write. Though Toussaint doesn’t like this definition, because “inspiration” is about being passive, when you sit and just wait for the inspiration without any attempts to work. And “l’urgence” is about being active, great talents are nothing without work, without practicing, without tries and faults, without disappointments and discoveries. That’s why you need “la patience” as well to be a writer. 

It reminded me of myself when I was a teenager and was writing short stories and poems. I was sure that the whole point is to have an inspiration – when I thought I had it, I just closed myself in my room and was writing for the whole day without talking to my parents, and barely eating. When the story was done, I almost never corrected it again, even if my parents say that there are places to review. Now, re-reading my teenage stories I realize that I could have done a better job if I would work, if I would have “la patience” to reread, to correct, to work more on getting information about certain things instead of making it up. What I know now is that a writer should have a big social experience and to be an erudite, to know a lot of things from different areas. Being a writer is probably even one of the hardest jobs, because it’s connected with a creativity which is vague and very subjective thing. Sometimes it brings a huge satisfaction and happiness, while at the other moments it could bring a big frustration. So being a true writer is about being brave and strong to stand the test.

About being a true magician

Yesterday I watched “Life is beautiful”, Italian movie about… Well, if I say about Second World War in Italy, I won’t be absolutely correct. Because it’s not only about war, it’s even not mostly about war. It’s about magic in life, magic which is created by love. The main character is a guy who always does simple miracles to impress his future wife at first and then to make his family (wife and a little son) happy. As an adult you understand that there is nothing miraculous about these “moving tables” or “keys dropped from the heaven” (this guy was just very attentive and was able to use right moments and to make them look unusual) but we believe him like kids and see a life as a wonderful and happy moment. 

The main character is just a person who notices a bright side of the life and shows it to those who are around him. Such people save the world even when it’s falling apart. In a concentration camp he continues creating a wonderful world for his son, making him believe that everything what is happening with them is just a game. His miracles save his son’s and his wife’s lives. While such people exist, our world won’t disappear in the pain, fear and death. Such people keep our belief in miracles, in love and in originality of our life. That is a true magic.

About being a true person

Today my grandma had guests. We were in the house when suddenly a lot of people appeared in our courtyard – several kids from the local Secondary School and two teachers with them. Kids wore blue field caps, one boy carried flowers and all of them looked very decent. Teachers know my grandma and brought this class to meet her and to take her take under their patronage. So one of the teachers said: “Kids, this woman is a respectful teacher of our village, she worked for more than 30 years in your school. She is also a wife of the war hero from our village and thanks to her we have this great, interesting museum about war in our region. We are taking her under our patronage and you should come here to help her with everything she’ll need”. In the evening I was looking through old pictures my grandma showed me. It was so impressive, firstly, because of being so old that you could see such pictures and documents only in the museum. And here you have it in your hands and it’s about your grand grandfather. Some documents are dated by the end of the 19^th century! Secondly, I was looking at these pictures with my grandfather who is in military uniform on them, and it’s so unbelievable to imagine that he was taking part in events I was reading about only in my history textbooks, that he was wounded and a bullet passed in a millimeter from his heart. After he came back to village, he was much respected here, he was writing really great poems and all guys in a village who tried to write were bringing their works to him to ask for his opinion. 

I feel so sad that I was so little when he died so I don’t remember my grandfather. Now everyone could see his pictures and read about him in a local museum, which was created by my grandma and was kept by her for a long time. Now it’s the school who is taking care of it. As for my grandma every second inhabitant of this village of middle and senior age was her student. Almost everyone in the village knows her and respects her. When I think about my grandparents I feel that it’s what is called being “a true person”, it’s when at the end of your life you know that you lived not for nothing, that you did create something in your life. That’s what I would call “a true life”.