my son

The other side of the ocean
The other sidenof the ocean 2023 Acrylics on linen 60x90

11/12 – On the other side of the ocean. © – 2023 – acrylics on linen – 60×90

Original artwork available at @maksla_xo_gallery (Riga, Latvia)

I have been thinking a lot about parental relationships lately. Maybe because I lost my mother only 6 months ago, and even though we always had a difficult relationship, she was also the symbol of steadfastness and a safe harbor in my life, a safe shelter in case I needed to lay my head down and rest for a while. Maybe because since adolescence me and my son have been emotionally distant from each other and I recently remember the advice of an old friend saying that I had to be distant from him on order to him to grow up, take interest in the world, in other women. I was very afraid to damage my son in the way I felt my parents had damaged me and I took her advice very literally, breaking my own instincts and heart to give him space… Unrequested space that later proved to damage the close relationship we had. I was a betrayed woman and not wanting to harm my son I betrayed him, by making myself absent, distant. Note to self: advices can be given in good intention, but can be very harmful too. Humans have different experiences and therefore the advices can have very adverse outcomes. 20 years later I still feel my son distant and untrusting, repeating patterns that were mine when I decided to give him space. Our romantic relationships are a reflection of the aspects we need to evolve in the relationship with ourselves. Abusive relationships are a sign of unhealthy and self imposed emotional mysery. That kind of relationship where you give the best of you to someone that is mostly there to take and only gives the bare minimum to keep you trying, giving, surviving. People should resolve their emotional issues before they set out to rescue others. We need to count on our safe harbors to learn how to swim before we sail out on our life quests. I was so afraid to suffocate him that I left taking away his life buoy. Even though we are in the same continent, he keeps an ocean between us and instead of finding safe ground he has been pedalling adrift in a leacky boat, that sooner or later will make him a castaway. From my hatch I can only see so far and the sailing continues with no guarantees for safe manoovers, easy journeys, calm seas. life taught methat a broken heart can be healed, but seeing the lost and sad face of someone you love more than anything, feels a little bit like I am drowning.
Dreaming a little to try to make peace with my failures and your choices. Dreaming of pink sunsets, relaxing chairs on a calm deck, on a lazy afternoon of long awaited peaceful laughter, love and safety.

Luciana Mariano ©

Meditation
Storytelling

There is a place, in the deep, vast blue planet, where we can always meet and rest.

Where we can just be and listen to each others breaths, hearts, voices, silences and stories.

There we know we are safe. Turbulences do not affect us when we are in there.

It perhaps lasts a few seconds or undisturbed hours and days, but we know,

that in there, we don’t need to be cautious, worried, afraid, alert, defended.

We share in silence whatever goes through our souls, with no fear of mistaking

no doubt nor disapproval, no chance of rejection. An ephemeral taste of peace and freedom we lack.

There we can be tenderly preserved from tempests, turmoils, gales, jumbles and storms.

It’s there where we take shelter in our darkest and coldest nights.

A place to be nurtured and lovingly accepted. Generously allowed to exist, heal and thrive, despite our human imperfections, our flaws and limitations. There we are perfectly broken (and loved) for the whole context and perspectives of our existence. No words needed, you just know. There we play, sit, rest, are.

Its the chance to recompose and re-align. Re-find our purposes and allow ourselves to continue, despite the noise, rage and friction of the waters that never cease. Feeling comfortable even for a tiny fraction of time may be the glimpse of hope we long for. Having our feet dry and warm, for a while, gives us strength to stay afloat a little longer and perhaps, make it safe to shore, find home.

There you are the home.