Poanta cijele
priče je upravo da Aladinu Duh iz svjetiljke nije mogao pomoći pobjediti
zlikovca i dobiti djevojku i vječnu sreću, već ga je iskustvo koje je sam morao
proći dovelo do cilja – trebala mu je i hrabrost da unatoč ne toliko povoljnim uvjetima,
junak je dao sve od sebe. Bez straha od gubitka, i u svrhu spašavanja ne sebe,
već drugog, njemu dragog – junak pobjeđuje sve.

Razbolila sam se
od preopterećenja i izmorenosti, opet. Uhvatit ću korijen toga što mi se iznova
i iznova ponavlja, hoću, obećajem si! Uzela sam, prisilno, koji dan odmora, da
mi se glava posloži nazad na ramena. A kako bolje provesti par dana u krevetu,
nego gledati crtiće?

Pogledala sam
Alisu u zemlji čuda, Aladina i čarobnu svjetiljku i Ljepoticu i zvijer. Sve
stari crtići, koji imaju skoro pa istu putanju životne priče junaka. Klasika –
junakinja, junak je neshvaćen, drugačiji, sanja o nekom drugom životu, a
zarobljen u situaciji. Alisa, Aladin i Bela. Alisa mora učiti povijest, a
radije bi bila u svijetu gdje se stvari koje se moraju, ne moraju, Aladin
osjeća da krasti za malo kruha svaki dan nije život za njega, osjeća da je
predodređen za veće stvari, dok Bela, dijete izumitelja, misli kako je
provincijski gradić premalen za nju, želi vidjeti svijeta.

Zanimljivo da su
svo troje ne baš idealne obiteljske situacije. Za Alisu se ne sjećam, mislim da
je imala roditelje, koji joj očito nisu baš bili bliski, jer se baš i ne
spominju. Aladin nema roditelje, njegova princeza nema majku, a i Bela živi
sama s ocem.

Tragični junak, (što
bi sada rekli književni teoretičari na ovu moju teoriju, kao već milijun puta
viđenu?), nesređene obiteljske situacije, neshvaćen, želi nešto više od života,
prolazi seriju iskušenja kako bi se isprofilirao kao samozasluženi pobjednik.
Jesmo li svi mi junaci vlastitih priča koji žele nešto više, a imaju samo ono
što im je dano?

Nije li da svi
želimo nešto više, nešto još, nešto drugačije? A nailazimo na prepreke? Tješimo
se živopisno ispričanim životnim pričama izmišljenih likova, čije priče dolaze
do zadovoljavajućeg raspleta, te ostaju u vječnom zadovoljstvu i sreći? Možda i
meni bude tako jednog dana? Možda i ja dobijem na lotu, da mogu živjeti u
palači iz snova s ljubavi koja će me opčaravati do kraja vremena i nazad, a
našla sam ju prvim pogledom u pravo vrijeme?

Doduše, svaki od
junaka ima pred sobom taj neki nemogući zadatak, za koji treba sreće i
hrabrosti da se riješi, i naravno da je uspješan u tome. U čemu bi inače svi mi
pronalazili utjehu?

I nalazimo je, u bogu, u travi, u čokoladi, u prijatelju. Koristimo te
kratkotrajne flastere, makar bili i vodootporni, no svaki mora kad-tad otpasti.
Tada ostaje samo jedno rješenje. Pogledaj u sebe. Sve je tu. I lijepo i ružno i
cvjetajuće i truleće.

Sva pitanja, svi
odgovori, svi izazovi, sva rješenja, sve na jednom mjestu. Ima jedna priča koja
ide vako: Bogu je dosadilo što su ga ljudi davili (moja interpretacija priče,
hvala na razumijevanju), pa se mislio gdje da se sakrije. Netko pametniji od
Boga mu je rekao: sakrij se u čovjekovo srce, tamo nikada neće tražiti.

S ovim želim reći
da nas većina, u većini životnih situacija gleda oko sebe tko je kriv, tko je
zaslužan za ono što je i ono što nije, a najrjeđe imamo hrabrosti pogledati
unutra, preuzeti odgovornost i reći: ja sam. Sve je u meni. Svaka promjena u
mom životu dolazi iz mene. Od mene kreće svaki val. I širi se, a ponekada vraća
nazad. Tada ga možda ne prepoznajem kao vlastitog, ali jest.

Sada ću ti
ispričati jednu priču za koju ni sama nisam znala do upravo ovog trenutka. I
usput, nije li zanimljivo da dva različita značenja, «ispričati priču» i
«ispričati se nekome», dijele istu riječ?

Ima jedna priča
koja je nastala u prostranstvima svemira, u nekom zasigurno paralelnom svijetu
od našeg sada i ovdje. Gdje cvijeće uvijek cvjeta, i vječno je sumrak ili zora,
oblaci se uvijek razmiču pred tim tamo suncem, svi se smiju i plešu. Svi su
lijepi, sasvim slični jedni drugima, ujednačene visine i debljine, zvonkog
ugodnog glasa. Ne pričaju puno, većinom samo pjevaju i ispunjeni vječnim
zadovoljstvom, skakuću, beru voće, plešu, vole se i padaju u sumrak s nogu na
mekanu travu, gigantsko lišće pada sa stabala da ih pokrije, dok sumrak ne
zamijeni zora. Kraj.

Kada mi se sve
ove scene odvijaju pred očima, doživljavam teški napadaj straha od dosade.

Zamišljam svijet
kakvim uistinu je, i smrdi i miriše, i zajeban i dobar, i lijep i ružan, težak
i lak. I osjećam se živom.

Život je takav,
čupav i dlakav. Šta’š?

Fora je u tome da
nam je život svakodnevno ispunjen malim porazima i pobjedama, koje često
potpuno i zaboravimo, pamtimo samo one veće koji su nam značili više. Svačiji
život jest poput života junaka ili superjunaka, samo onaj koji nam se prikazuje
u knjigama i na ekranima je tek samo mali isječak cjelokupnosti života.

 “Život svake osobe jest bajka napisana Božjim prstima”

– Hans Christian Andersen

The point of the
entire story is that the lamp Genie could not have helped Alladin to win over
the villain and get the girl and eternal happiness; it was the experience that
he had to go through to achieve his goal – he needed to be courageous inspite
not-so-favourable conditions. He needed to give all he had, without fear of
loosing it all, and not only to save himself but also the other, someone who
was important to him – then only can the hero overcome it all.

I got sick from
overworking and tiredness, again. I will find the root of this repetitive pattern,
I will, I am making a promise to myself. I was forced to take a few days off,
so things can come back into place. What is best to do while in bed for a few
days, but watch cartoons?

I saw Alice in
Wonderland, Alladin and the Beauty and the Beast. Old cartoons, with almost the
same road paved for the main character. Classically – the hero is
misunderstood, does not fit in, dreams of a different kind of life, but trapped
in the given restrictive situation. Alice, Alladin and Bella. Alice has to
study history, but would rather be in a world where you do not have to do the
things that here you do; Alladin feels that stealing bread to eat every day is
not the life for him, that he is made for greater things; while Bella thinks
how a provincial city is too small for her, she would like to see more of the
world.

The interesting
thing is that all three do not really have an ideal situation at home. I cannot
remember about Alice, I think she had parents, that were obviously not so close
to her, as they are not mentioned much (or at all?). Alladin has no parents and
Bella lives alone with her father.

The tragic hero:
an unsettling family situation, misunderstood, wants something more from life,
goes through a series of ordeals to come out as the self-deserving winner. Are
we all heroes of our own stories, wanting more than was given to us?

Is it not that we
all want something more, something different? But keep coming across more
obstacles? We console ourselves by watching the colorfully told life stories of
made up characters, whose stories come to a conclusion in eternal contentment
and joy? Maybe it will be like that for me one day? Maybe I, too, get the
winning lottery ticket, so I can live in a dream castle in love that will keep
me mesmerised till the end of time and back, finding it at first sight at the
exactly right time?

All of those
heros usually have an impossible task ahead of them, that requires luck and
bravery to come over, and he is of course successful at it. Where otherwise
would we find consolation in?

We do find it
elsewhere, in god, in weed, in chocolate, in a friend. We use these shortterm
patches, they may be waterproof, but they must fall off at some point. In that
case there is only one solution. Look into yourself. Everything is here. The
beautiful and the ugly, the blossoming and the decaying.

All the
questions, all the answers, all the solutions, all can be found in one place.
There is a story that goes like this: God was bored of being pestered by people
(this is me re-telling something I had heard, my version), so he thought of
places to hide. Someone smarter than God told him: hide into the heart of man,
he will never look there.

I wish to say
that most of us, in most life situations look around to find the one to blame, the
one responsible for what is and is not. A rare occurence is when we are brave
enough to look inside, take responsibility and say: it is me. All is inside of
me. Every change in my life comes from me. Every wave starts from me. And expands
from there. Sometimes the same wave comes back to the source; I might not
recognise it as my own, but it always is.

I will tell you a
story I had not known of until this very moment.

This story came
to be in the vast universe, in a parallel world to our own here and now. Where
flowers always blossom, and it is always only dusk or dawn, clouds always disperse
to let the sun through and everyone is laughing and dancing. Everyone is
pretty, and quite similar to each other, of the same height and width, pleasant
voices. They do not speak much, they mostly sing filled with eternal
contentment, jump around, pick fruits, love each other and fall to sleep on the
soft grass, giant leaves falls from trees to cover them until the dusk is
replaced by dawn. End.

When I see these
scenes coming into life in front of my eyes, I get a sudden fear of boredom.

When I imagine
the world as it truly is, smelly and fragrant, complicated and good, ugly and
beautiful, heavy and easy. I feel alive.

Life can be hairy
and scary. What to do?

The trick is that
our lives are fulfilled daily with little defeats and victories, that we often
completely forget about. We remember the ones that seemed more important to us.
Every person’s life is as a life of a hero or a superhero. The ones we see on
screens and read about in books are just tiny pieces of the multifold nature of
life.