Сelebrating what?

Here are some pages on Wikipedia, some varying degrees of emotional feedback, stories about the holiday Vardevar, which is celebrated in Armenia in July, in the midst of the heat....

What I want to say today, when I became 41 (one year ago I had just turned 40, and therefore I could not yet imagine all the magic of this age). I have come to believe that my nation fails to have a good memory, or fails to see the cause-effect kind of relationship between events. Not all, fortunately, but it is a huge mass, which is worse.

Vardevar - a pagan holiday. A holiday in particular, and a pagan one, in particular. Already later, when converted to Christianity and, more recently, when this became customary to speak about, people tied it to the Transfiguration of Christ. The result gave a lot of hell knows what: they pour water on people, but it is desirable to choose a neatly dressed pretty girls because they are unlikely to strike them back in their jaws, as always they attack as herd, and in addition to that they seek out the foreigners, who are quite far-far away from all this stuff.

When they pour water on themselves on their own bodies - for God's sake, let them be, let them even cut themself to death, but why do they involve others? Are you going to wash and iron clothes of this child? Will you stand responsible for this girl's forced date delay? Can you bring back such a fragile health of this elder person, broken in the result of your taunts? Won't it be you to resent the first, if somewhere abroad, something, say a bull, will knock you down and run over you, and everything will be rejoicing and saying, "don't you even try to be angry - this is our holiday!"

Ask any of them about the origin of the holiday, well, or the essence of the Transfiguration - but do not wait for the answer! The next day after the big church holidays is called "merelots" (commemoration of the dead). On such Mondays work is being canceled at the state level (because it seems like everyone should go to the cemetery), and then with coming Saturday this gap is filled.... Oh, how many times I have heard about the abuse in direction to these merelots days, all these permutations and confusions.... Of course the majority do not even go to the cemeteries, and stupidly stay at home, knowing that the Saturday will also come to nothing.

So, here is what I mean. All of these people know neither what they do, nor what they should do, nor what they shouldn't, nor what they can do, and nor what is not eligible. They actually do not know anything, but they know that doing so is necessary, because everybody does it. So I found the answer to many questions of mine like "why the natural desire is rejected and ashamed here?", "why shame and fear, and desire are all that is seen in the eyes of the majority here?", "why there are so many unsatisfied women and sexually anxious men?".

This holiday, like everything else - is a sublimation of the natural desire that all through the life, for many generations in a row, is being hammered, eradicated, ashamed, blackened and ridiculed.

P.S.
A couple of days ago, sitting in a new a-kind-of-Irish-Pub, one of the visitors, which was then celebrating his birthday, decided to say a toast, which sounded something like this: "I wish that all of the representatives of beautiful half, sitting here, would have been as beautiful, happy and loved, and so they could reach until they fulfil their sacred duty - motherhood.... ". All applauded.

Have you got my point?

I've just seen a Face....

What a beautiful face I found on Portishead's website at Noche 1, Poble Espanyol, Barcelona page today ! Here, and also here. Or should I say here

and also here

Such faces should be seen, not just linked.

And she lives somewhere in this big big world and probably makes her friends and lovers happier every day. Who knows where she is from.... And while Barcelona was the place where these pictures were taken, this should not be considered as a ground to be sure that she actually lives in Barcelona. My Love also has such a picture with herself standing in the same place in front of the stage, taken one year ago by Portishead in Poznan, Poland, but she is not from Poznan, is she?

A Definition

Fleeting  seconds of pure faceless passion - this is when in the warm season of the year cars are passing under your balcony, and there on the seats you see a woman, whose face you do not see, which in fact does not matter at all. What really matters is exactly what you see: a line of her hands, smooth skin of her legs, knees open, marvellous shapes - and all this wakes up in you a naturally-clear sense of the healthy Desire, full of genuine passion, which depends on none of the national, racial,  political, religious or any other convictions. You see it - and you want it. Not necessarily that you want the one who is sitting in the car, but you just want This. Sometimes it does not even possess, but simply to be co-participant with to This.

And this feeling lasts just a few seconds....