Category: projects

Shoes on the deck

by Judit Hajdu

Put these shoes on quick, Uncle Bogdan can take us to the station. Daddy’s managed to get us tickets. No, he’s not coming. Yes, maybe later. I don’t know.

Yes, you can take them off now. It’s gonna be a long journey. You can sleep until we reach the border.

Have you got your shoes on? No, we can’t stay here either. We are going to Scotland! I don’t know, we’ll see. It’s gonna be all right.

Yes, you can leave your shoes in the cabin and explore all 5 decks. It’s what you call floors on a ship. But don’t go further than the carpeted decks!

You are right, sweetheart, they are too small now. Let’s put them in the Duty-Free Shop, shall we? They might still be good for smaller kids.

No, your old shoes will stay here. We don’t want to carry too much. I don’t know. Let’s hope it will be another interesting place. Back? We can’t. Not yet. I don’t know. But everything will be all right.

More than a 1000 Ukrainians have found refuge on a cruise ship at the harbour of Edinburgh for a year now. Having to leave the ship in July they are unsure of the next stop of their journey.

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Kulissza az egész világ /All the World’s a Backstage

Post author By representations
Post date April 26, 2023
No Comments on Kulissza az egész világ /All the World’s a Backstage

by Attila Budaházi

Egy nap, amikor a szobafiú a szokásos reggeli rutin során belépett a hátsó ajtón a szállodába, bejelentkezett a munkaórán és hátrament a mosókonyhára, hogy magához vegye az aznapi törlőkendőit és a tiszta felmosó fejet, már éppen megfordult, hogy induljon a negyedik emeleti irodába, ahol minden reggel átveszi a munkalapját, amikor az alagsorban kinyílt egy lengőajtó. Az ajtó mögött a fiú mindig a konyhát sejtette. De most furcsa dolog történt. A résnyire meglebbenő ajtó mögött egy színpadot látott, színpadi fényekkel. Ő pedig a kulisszák mögötti folyosón volt. Itt járt el minden nap, de nem sejtette, hogy odabenn egy színpad van.

És az ajtón sorra fordultak ki a pincérek a leszedett reggeliző asztalok maradékaival.

One day, as the housekeeper boy went through the usual morning routine of entering the back door of the hotel, clocking in and heading to the laundry room to grab his rags and clean mop for the day, he was just turning to head to the fourth floor office where he picks up his work sheet every morning, when a swinging door in the basement opened. Behind the door, the boy always suspected the kitchen. But now an unexpected thing happened. Behind the door, which swung ajar, he saw a stage with theatre lights. He was backstage. He passed by here every day, but he had no idea that there was a stage inside.

And out the door came waiter after waiter with the remnants of the cleared breakfast tables.

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Window to Reality

by Nikolett Pataki

B woke up at 4am, as usual. Loved these lazy hours when she felt as if she would have beaten the world. She’s got time to catch up with herself, have proper space for her thoughts and ideas.

Just opened her eyes, checked her phone, as always, and saw the first line of an email, from her ex’s mother. They used to love each other. It took a while for B to be able to close that energy flow, peacefully and gently.

But this morning was different, B somehow wasn’t very surprised, so many things have happened to her recently, all good things, so it was somehow inevitable that she would sense it and would want to be part of it somehow. Email was the usual way for it. She used delicate words, was a real intellectual and B admired her for that. Despite the pain she and her son caused to her, B still loved them – from a safe distance. She knew if she opened that email, she would be sucked back into that reality where she felt powerless and vulnerable. But she couldn’t help, she had already read the first line; “As I was sensing that you are in a welcoming state of mind…”

– God, not again – she thought and put the phone down. She felt a sinking feeling, into the dark. She put her phone down and started to reflect on herself. As she went through her feelings and emotions and embraced them all, she was able to convince herself that she is in another reality now, she doesn’t need to explain herself and she made it (somehow, somewhere, even she wasn’t fully clear with it). But as she was calming down, she decided to read the whole email, as felt strong enough to deal with it. She didn’t know yet what her plan was beyond reading but that didn’t matter. She wanted to face – whatever comes after those words.

So, she lifted her phone again and looked for the email. But it was nowhere. She felt a small panic again, now that she chickened out and somehow managed to make it disappear. She tried every option possible with other messages – still, they were recoverable. How on earth did she manage to get rid of it so quickly and without any trace?

Very slowly did she just realise and accept how she had a peek through a window.

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Dysfunctional

by Judit Hajdu

„The effect of dysfunctional family on the identity, inappropriate emotional atmosphere in childhood leading to co-dependency in adulthood. You know, enmeshment, parentification and the lot. ” read a commission for an article on family therapy, I recently received.

I flinched. I don’t know dysfunctional families or inappropriate emotional atmosphere and do not believe in determinism. I do not think that any kind of childhood atmosphere has to lead to either of those grossly generalizing psychological conditions mentioned above, whose only use is to elevate the psychologist to the expert position and convince them and the people seeking help, that the problem is serious, the situation is grave and solving it will require considerable time and energy. I do, however, as an individual-, family- and couples therapist, work with people who make all the effort to handle their painful experiences, find meaning to them and do all they can to separate their actions that don’t follow their values from the ones that do and find reassurance in the latter. Who try to harmonize with their partners the principles they want to live by. A fascinating journey I am humbled to be of assistance to.

It is getting more and more acceptable to voice one’s mental difficulties and traumas. You don’t have to hide your troubles and seeing a therapist is no longer shameful. And that is good. I only wish us therapists would encourage people more to discover, examine and get acquainted with their own problems instead of finding a ready-to-use, one-size-fits all, neat little box to lock them in with their problems. Now, try to get out if you can!

Facing your problems is not easy, nevertheless, you can make it a tad easier by taking a little distance from it, and securing the ground under your feet before. The only chance to grab the tail of a dragon, swing it over your head and smash a few of its fire-blowing head if you stand on solid ground. And then you might even tackle monsters like dysfunction, enmeshment or co-dependence, whatever they might mean.

projects

Or

by Gigi Guizado

contemplative

mysterious path

mirror, metaphor, opportunity

reflect on life questions

labyrinth

After Bozeman Deaconess Spiritual Care, “Walking The Labyrinth”, 2022, Bozeman Health Deaconess Hospital

projects

Válassza a legközelebbi kijáratot / Take the Nearest Exit

Post author By representations
Post date March 22, 2023
No Comments on Válassza a legközelebbi kijáratot / Take the Nearest Exit

By Attila Budaházi

2007 június 3-án délelőtt, kevéssel azután, hogy a tévé bemondta a híres színész, Darvas Iván halálát, az Orczy út egyik járdaszigetén, az Elnök utcai megállóban éppen hátat fordított az érkező villamosnak, és az még mindig igen nagy lendülettel, pusztán néhány milliméterre suhant el a vállától. A fiú egy pillanatra megdermedt a gondolattól, hogy milyen kevésen múlott.

Az évek során, időről időre eszébe jutott ez a pillanat, néha azt vizsgálta, hogy él-e még? Nem lehetséges vajon, hogy valójában elkaszálta az a villamos ott és akkor, de mivel félt belátni, hogy meghalt, még mindig úgy kalandozik valami köztes térben, mintha élne?

2019 április 7-én, vasárnap, ebédszünet után visszatért az egyik hotelszobába, hogy folytassa a takarítást. Az ebéd és a napi első cigi mindig kissé szürreális közérzetbe kényszerítették. Ezen a vasárnapon kimondottan hűvös volt és szemerkélt az eső. Az ablak résnyire nyitva volt egész ebédszünet alatt, de a fűtés ellensúlyozta a beáradó hideget. Nekifogott, hogy megvesse az ágyat, amikor egyszer csak odakintről, tökéletes tisztasággal, élesen felhangzott Tarzan összetéveszthetetlen dzsungeli kiáltása. A fiú az ablakhoz ment. Az épületek közé lelógó, az égben eltűnő liánokon, egyikről a másikra csimpaszkodva haladt Tarzan, azaz Johnny Weissmuller. És igen: az egész látvány fekete-fehér volt.

Minden, ami aznap odáig történt, teljesen reálisnak tűnt, így egyáltalán nem volt ésszerű, hogy álmodna. Pedig ez lehetett volna az egyik teljesen kézenfekvő magyarázat és ahogy lenni szokott, következő lépésként fel lehetett volna ébredni. De nem ez történt. Megint kinézett az ablakon és most már a sötétrózsaszín égbolton egy idegen város felhőkarcolói között száguldott Tarzan, liánról liánra, egyre kétségbeesettebben. Világvége érzés futott át a fiún. Érezte, eljött az idő, színt kell vallani. Az ajtó felé fordult, de ott nem volt ajtó már. Egy szürkén örvénylő füst-alagút tátongott helyette.

Bárhogy erőltette, nem emlékezett rá, mikor halt meg. Most? Évekkel korábban? Nem lebbent fel a fátyol semmilyen elrejtett emlékről. Ott állt, szemben az örvénnyel, érezte, ahogy egyre nagyobb széllökések érik az arcát.

2023 tavasza volt. A vonatablakon befújt a szél. Egy pillanatra kinyitotta szemeit majd lehunyta ismét.

On the morning of June 3, 2007, shortly after the death of the famous actor Iván Darvas was announced on television, he was turning his back on an oncoming tram at the President St stop on a traffic island in Orczy Street, which,still having great momentum, whooshed just a few millimeters away from his left shoulder. For a moment, the boy froze at the thought of the close call..

Over the years he would recall this moment once in a while, wondering if he was still alive. Could it be possible that he had actually been killed by that tram, but because he was too afraid to admit that he was dead, he was still wandering in an in-between space pretending to be alive?

On Sunday 7 April 2019, after lunch break, he returned to one of the hotel rooms to continue cleaning. Lunch and his first cigarette of the day always left him feeling a little way-out. It was a particularly chilly and drizzling Sunday. The window was left wide open throughout the lunch break, but the heater compensated for the incoming chill. He reached over to make the bed, when suddenly, from outside, in perfect clarity, came the unmistakable jungle cry of Tarzan. He stepped up to the window. Tarzan, alias Johnny Weissmuller, was dangling on the lianas hung between the buildings with their upper ends pinned above the horizon. And yes: the whole scenery was black and white.

Everything that had happened up to that point in the day seemed completely real, so it was not at all reasonable to think he was dreaming. Yet that would have been one perfectly obvious explanation and, as usual, the next step would have been to wake up. But that was not what happened. He looked out of the window again and now Tarzan was racing across the dark pink sky between the skyscrapers of an unknown city, liana by liana, growing more and more desperate. A sense of the end of the world ran through the boy. He felt the time had come, the time to face what he couldn’t. He turned to the door, but there was no door. Instead, a tunnel of swirling gray smoke.

Try as he might, he couldn’t remember when he died. Just right now? Years before? He could not lift the veil off any related memories. He stood there, facing this vortex, feeling increasingly stronger gusts of wind against his face.

It was the spring of 2023, the wind blew through the window of the train.

He opened his eyes for a moment, then he closed them again.

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Decision

By Nikolett Pataki

– This is it, can’t wait to move in! What’s that face?

– I’m really not sure what I want anymore.

– What do you mean? The contract is here, we paid for the solicitors and this place ticks most of our boxes from the list! We took it slowly, I agreed to be patient with you and we had 6 months to change our mind. Are you listening to me at all?

– Yes, I know it all, my mind knows it all. It’s just my heart.

– What about it? Talk to me!

– I can’t do it.

– Do what? What can you not do exactly?

– This whole thing, moving in with you, buying a house, settling down, having a normal life…

– But that’s what we did so far! We were basically living together and that’s how we came to this conclusion, don’t you remember?

– I do. It’s just, I can’t force myself

– You don’t have to, it’s step by step, a slow process and this is the last bit

– Yes but if we sign this we need to be in for at least 25 years.

– I thought that’s what you wanted, to be together for even more time than that?

– Yes, if it’s now.

– What do you mean?

– I mean if we don’t take time into account just flowing through life, you know like rowing your boat.

– Down the stream, don’t start again!

– I’m sorry. I just can’t do it.

– Is it still the abyss?

– Yes. It’s heavy.

– It’s okay, I just, I just think stability actually would help.

– Maybe not, maybe nothing can help.

– Don’t say that, you haven’t had any episodes for –

– For 13 months, I know. And I really appreciate your presence in my life. I just can’t give you that cheerful easy going person you deserve and I used to be.

– Don’t say that, I love you just the way you are!

– Blah, blah, blah.

– OK, listen, it’s not just you in this, okay, I’m here too! And we, together, did this so far and got here and made the list and –

– I don’t care, I’m sorry.

– What? You can’t be serious!

– Listen, you did beyond imagination and I can’t be grateful enough to you. But this whole buying-a-house process somehow made me realise that this is not what I want

– Ok, so you want another –

– No, I don’t want another house or any house. I want myself!

– But I thought –

– No, listen to me! With you I was the traumatised person who needed extra care, I don’t want that anymore, I don’t want the need for special treatment and I don’t want always to be reminded how lucky I am with you.

– But –

– I know you never say this but you make me feel like it! And no, please do not try to understand, that’s exactly what I hate. Just leave me the f*ck alone.

– Wow! I really don’t know what to say now –

– Nothing, there’s no need to say anything. Just please let me go.

– You were always free, you don’t owe me anything.

– Please don’t make this hard!

– I’m not. I was just hoping that one day you’d see that.

– See what?

– Me.

– What do you mean?

– Listen, this whole story has been around you all the time, your trauma, your anxiety, your studies and –

– See that’s what I mean, I’m broken!

– No, you’re not! Not more than any other person on this bloody planet

– Wow!

– Yes, and I think you need to hear that and get out of your head and

– And what ?

– Listen, I know what you’re trying to do here and it won’t work. I know how to fight for you yet I’m ready to let you go. You need to make a decision now. Not about the house or me or even us, but yourself. You need that, and this is all in you!

– OK

– OK what?

– I understand, just please don’t make me speak now. Can you hug me, please?

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Thirst

by Rita Sebestyen

There is lipstick on the glass.

Streetwalker is thirsty.

But there is lipstick on the brim of the glass, and there is a black smidgen floating on the top of the water in there.

‘Can you please print me the catalogue of the other flat, too? You know, the one you said I might also be interested in.’

The agent is very unhappy with all these special requests. First the cup of water and now the catalogues to be printed. The agent struggles with Streetwalker’s accent, too. The agent does not want to struggle.

Wide windows filled with pictures of derelict houses on sale.

Two patrols are passing by on their horses.

‘This is the worst time, really’ the agent sparks a conversation, ‘The day of the match.’

‘Yeah’ Streetwalker cannot raise their eyes from the water tightly embraced by that dirty-lipstick-y glass, burdened with the black morsel like a mouldy cherry on the top of the cake in a twisted tale. The water, the one that could bring some sweet relief, is imprisoned in between.

The agent gathers that there will be no quiet, no peace until some service is given.

‘So, the second one… you have not seen that yet… that can be converted into a two-bedroom flat.’

Streetwalker sighs.

The water sits unnerved in the dirt. Catch me if you can.

‘I can call you when it’s available for viewing.’

‘Right,’ Streetwalker has reached to a decision. ‘Call me when the owner is ready.’ Deep sigh. One long step to the door. ‘Bye.’

‘The water!’ yells the agent with a suddenly risen hospitality.

Streetwalker shut the door behind their back, ‘No thanks’.

projects

The view, the view

by Judit Hajdu

I started deliberately using the scenery while I was living – for twenty-five years – in a house overlooking the edge of the town and its surrounding hills. I sipped my morning tea looking out, preparing for the day with the view as backdrop, contemplated problems on the balcony, where I had most meals with family and friends. And that was the place I set off from to explore more expansive vistas and the people inhabiting them, as I was sure one would have very different views on life – sorry for the pun – depending on what you can rest your eyes on daily basis.

Robert Macfarlane in his book The Old Ways, where he recounts his many walks criss-crossing the British Isles, quotes Nan Shepherd who, through exchanges between her and her beloved mountains, the Scottish Cairngorm, “understood herself in some way thought by place.” This notion is not difficult to imagine if we regard the word ‘landscape’, as Macfarlane does, “a noun with a hidden verb: landscape scapes, it is dynamic and commotion causing, it sculpts and shapes us not only over the courses of our lives but also instant by instant, incident by incident.”

Intuitively we have known for centuries that the colour green, the sight of flora and fauna all have calming effects and by now a whole new branch of enquiries, called environmental psychology, has been developed to study the phenomenon and how it can be utilised in city design. With the advance of neuroscience, we are beginning to understand the mechanism as well.

One theme, however, I yet to find contemplation or research on: the effect of not what but how far we can see and the interaction of the two. The joy of seeing the horizon, as one of the prisoners I worked with on the Hungarian prison radio put it: “Every day I wait with anticipation for the few steps in the walk down to our workplace. As we turn the corner, suddenly my eyes can escape and I with it to travel far-far across the river to the place where the mountains shed their cloaks of mist. I feel there is a chance for a new beginning.”