“Every Stone A Story Like A Rosary”

Joan Osborne’s haunting “Saint Teresa” gave me a line that has resonated for decades: “Every stone a story like a rosary.” I first heard this song while spending a summer in the United States in 1995, and I’ve often remembered these words since then.

For me, this beautifully worded phrase captures how each element, each prayer, each individual, is a complete entity, but also an irreplaceable piece of a larger, interconnected whole. It’s a truth that feels particularly vital now, as we navigate a world where AI-driven noise floods our social media, and escalating global conflicts, like the recent US attacks on Yemen and Iran, threaten to overwhelm us. Despite these currents, I want to focus on how individuals still have a crucial part to play in the broader march of time. 

An Entire World Within A Vast Universe

As the Talmudic dictum goes: 

“Whoever saves a life, it is considered as if s/he saved an entire world.”
Talmudic dictum

And just as we can each be viewed as an entire world unto ourselves, we must find a delicate balance where we can respect both ourselves and the greater whole that we are a part of. While it’s sometimes wise to set aside personal preferences for the group, we must also, at times, lead by example to build bridges rather than walls.

I firmly believe that we cannot lead truly fulfilling lives without genuine connection to others. And thus, as I mentioned in my previous post about moral values, each of us has a duty to act in accordance with a moral compass. In times like these, this certainly requires a quality which is often mentioned across liberal media, namely courage. We would all like to think ourselves courageous, but as history has taught us, not all of us are. Many are followers. Despite our best intentions, it’s natural not to want to stand out too much, run the risk of being criticised, or worse, ostracised. Especially since, without a broad temporal setting, you never know whether or not you should trust your instinct that you are on the right side of history.

In The Right Place

This quote, that has been circulated a lot of late, encourages us to stand by our convictions: 

“Be sure you put your feet in the right place, then stand firm.”
– Attributed to Abraham Lincoln

However, it makes matters difficult that what constitutes “the right place” shifts over time. The concept of Human Rights, for instance, barely existed for most of human history. Therefore, all we can do is rely on our conscience, hoping we’re not entirely off course. Even then, swimming against the current, while perhaps celebrated in hindsight, is both difficult and ungratifying in the moment.

As I experienced a long time ago, while lifting yourself above the crowd offers more breathing room and sunlight, it also makes you a more visible, and thus easier, target. Belonging to a herd, on the other hand, offers safety, comfort, and ease – no need to define your own rules, make tough decisions, or even fully face consequences, as long as you adhere to the group’s chosen role. 

Courage And Fear

The flip side of this is that you have less freedom of expression, of being who you genuinely are, and you don’t necessarily get to follow your own values. In the current political context, this reminds me of a famous picture of the lone man who refused to do the Nazi salute in 1936 Germany, while standing in a crowd of Nazi enthusiasts. When seeing this photo again at the “Topography of Terror” history museum in Berlin, it struck me how deeply he must have been convinced that he was in the right to do this. It is easy for us to look at it now and praise his courage, believing we would have done the same. But history suggests that most people conform out of necessity or fear. 

Picture of people giving a Nazi salute, with an unidentified person (possibly August Landmesser or Gustav Wegert) refusing to do so.

As this quote, famously attributed to many, including Mark Twain and Nelson Mandela, specifies: 

“Courage is not the absence of fear, it is the willingness to act despite your fear.”

This willingness is often tied to family or faith. I noticed this as I became a mother: where we might accept injustice or unfairness for fear of reprisal as long as we only have ourselves to look after, when we feel directly responsible for another human being, we will rise above our concerns for our own health and safety to safeguard those of another. Faith is somewhat different in that it seems to surpass the physical world and our earthbound life, and thus, people like Joan of Arc have been willing to sacrifice their own bodies for what they perceived to be something greater than themselves, or indeed humanity.

Spreading The Light 

At a recent exhibit of Polish Romani artist Małgorzata Mirga-Tas, I saw her piece entitled “Papusza’s song” (“Papuszakri Gili”), inspired by Romani poet and icon Papusza, born Bronislawa Wajs.

Małgorzata Mirga-Tas, Papuszakri Gili (Papusza’s Song), 2024, textile, acrylic on canvas.
Courtesy of the artist and the Foksal Gallery Foundation, Warsaw. Photo: Marek Gardulski.

Mirga-Tas is a remarkable woman who defies conventions, and she felt the need and made the choice to, in turn, pay tribute to another such artist, Papusza. The latter led a singular life and suffered the consequences of going against the tide. Papusza’s contribution to the demystification of Roma was crucial, but she was banished from her community for it, while being instrumentalised outside her community as a token poster child. She suffered greatly for having lived authentically. However, this light she carried within came to influence others who cannot stand being confined to a proverbial box. 

Building Bridges

And this is what I want to celebrate here: the fact of taking action to contribute to a better world, which necessarily entails connecting with others around us. As my dear friend Sarah Barbieux, a Romani artist and activist, told me many years ago: 

“In order to last, bridges need to be built from both banks.”
Sarah Barbieux

To me, this also means that rather than judge people who disagree with us, it is both wiser and more gratifying to seek a path towards connecting, and hopefully even understanding them. This was perfectly summed up in this quote I recently stumbled upon: 

“The greatest distance between two people is misunderstanding.”
– Anonymous

With that in mind, I feel the need to take concrete action towards building a bridge for people who have closed themselves off to anyone who disagrees with them. Their comfortable position has been exploited and amplified by Big Tech, whose algorithms further drag us all into wells of conformity, surrounded only by those who resemble us. 

So far, life has taught me that this approach of welcoming only opinions that validate your own is damaging to one’s wisdom, improvement and, at the end of the day, worthwhile bonds with others. Where there are no challenges, there can be no growth. This is not only true in the sense of intellectual or rational development, but also in our personal relationships. I have learned so much from people whose beliefs I do not share, and I now seek to pursue relationships with persons whose depths are not ostentatiously exposed, but rather require patience and trust to discover. 

Being comfortable is pleasant indeed, and life is also meant to be enjoyed in its moments of reprieve from struggles. But in the long run, the most fulfilling experiences are those that push us to tap into our courage and selflessness. 

Echoes Of Idealism

This approach motivated me to dust off a project that I had left on a shelf for a long time, because of the challenges it presents. Over a decade ago, I had taken it upon myself to tell the story of a family of exceptional activists through a three-part documentary, entitled: “Echoes of Idealism, Maury and Sally’s ripple of positive action”. The term “idealism” here is used as:

“The belief that your ideals can be achieved, often when this does not seem likely to others.”

Cambridge dictionary

Maury and Sally Fox’s family includes many individuals who, though not widely famous outside of specific circles, deserve to be celebrated because they are prime examples of the positive impact each of us can have if we follow our moral compass. They have shown courage and a willingness to act at an individual level for the bettering of society. If I had to translate this into an image, it would be that of a candle whose flame lights the next, and so on and so forth, thereby spreading light in an otherwise dark space. 

Art by Tijana Djapovic (c)

In these times of glorifying lone superheroes or mass movements, I am seeking to celebrate individuals who fall into neither category. Those who take concrete and discrete action with no expectation of any reward, just because they believe something has to be done to improve the situation. And rather than wait for the solution to come from others, Maury and Sally’s circle went ahead and took action. The brilliant and humble Maury Fox, a pioneering geneticist and molecular biologist, used his knowledge, network, and strong moral code to further the social responsibility of scientists and ethical policymaking in science. Likewise, his wife, Sally Fox Cherniavsky, a trailblazing photographer, editor, and art historian, used her influence and access to countless works of art to challenge the visual history of women and provide a more accurate representation of their lives across different eras. 

Lightbearers In The Dark

These two lightbearers, central to my story, demonstrated that by simply acting according to their values, their light illuminated others. Likewise, others before them ignited this flame in them, including Maury’s mentor, the renowned scientist Leo Szilard, who not only developed the idea of the nuclear chain reaction, but later also fervently advocated for atomic energy control. And thus, through a tapestry of intertwined stories, “Echoes of Idealism” will show how light is passed on and spreads.

In order to discover the pieces of this puzzle I am compiling to tell the untold stories of influential lightbearers of 20th Century America, you will need to wait a little longer…

In the meantime, what I wish to convey here is that the time has come yet again to go beyond expressing your convictions in private, or safely hiding behind your screens. Each of us must now meet polarising discourse with self-reflection, active listening, understanding, and individual concrete action. So that we may each play our part, not just as individuals but as members of a wider entity. 

Each of us can be a lightbearer. Just as every stone on a rosary tells its own story, while being an irreplaceable part of a larger, interconnected whole.

(Title quote taken from “St. Teresa”, Joan Osborne)

“42 Up”

Some ten years ago, I watched a documentary film that had a deep impact on how I perceive life. It was entitled “42 Up”. It followed a number of Brits from different regions and social backgrounds every seven years, from the ages of seven to forty-two. I saw them go from being sparkly-eyed kids to awkward teenagers to responsible adults to middle-aged men and women. Some more ordinary than others, some happier, some more successful, some more fulfilled than others.

Seeing the result of this film, spanning over thirty-five years, left me feeling both amazed and sad. What I found in all of them was the inevitable loss of innocence that comes with age and experience. That also went with a loss of ideals in many. And loss of beauty as well. Today, at forty-two, I should watch it again and see how I feel about it. Or better still, I should watch the latest film in Michael Apted’s series that began with “Seven Up!” (1964), which is now “63 Up”. Somewhere along the line, the title lost its exclamation mark… which, incidentally, seems a perfect way to sum up the difference between the ages of seven and sixty-three.

In this COVID-19 crisis, I am fortunate to have a new job that I’m excited about, to have my wide-eyed child by my side, to live in a home and a neighbourhood I love, to be in regular touch with my loving family. But these times of relative isolation have also brought on a new wave of reflection which, combined with the Netflix content I’ve been watching (such as “Marriage Story” or “The Last Dance”) reminds me that life doesn’t turn out the way one expects. Ever. There are unexpected successes, joys, falls and pains. And while love and hope inspire and drive us, suffering and pain play a significant role in shaping us as well. I saw this in “42 Up”, too. There is so much we do – or avoid doing – for fear of being hurt.

(Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic)

Though I don’t believe that we are born as clean slates, I do see us as clay shapes that life hits, carves, moulds over time. Bit by bit, we evolve into complex beings, growing increasingly unique and different from each other, as life adds one texture after another to our initially smooth clay. At middle age, I perceive love and hope in my peers. But none has kept that initial innocence we all used to have. That faith that there will be a “happily ever after”. Because our lives have taught us otherwise. There is no “ever after” as such. There is only happy, then unhappy, then happy again, and so on and so forth. But over time, erosion makes us less affected or moved by unhappiness and happiness alike. Our skin gets thicker, we roll with the punches and we enjoy well-deserved rests after each round.

In this time of contemplation for the whole world, I do appreciate what I have. I also look forward to many more moments of happiness. Even though I know better than to expect what I imagine for myself to come true (in the positive or the negative sense), I do know that joy comes back to me after every struggle. But where am I right now? If I were to do my own “42 Up” recap of my life, it would probably go like this: At age seven, my world was enchanted, almost perfect. At fourteen, it was painful and filled with self-loathing. At twenty-one, it was hopeful and looking to the future. At twenty-eight, it was harsh but glorious. At thirty-five, it was awakened to what adult life is. At forty-two, it is unsettled and I am searching for steady ground.

(Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic)

For three years, I have been feeling like the earth under my feet has been shaking. And, like in a seismic zone, every time it stops, another earthquake rocks the ground I walk upon. And it isn’t easy to build on moving ground. But I have been fortunate enough to join a company built on the concept of constant transformation, flexibility and adaptability. And my travelling companion is a little girl who loves the circus so much, she now excels at finding her balance in any situation like a tightrope walker. What I must now learn from both is not to expect the ground to ever stand still, but rather to function and grow on moving ground. Perhaps by the next seven-year mark, my spirit will be as agile as my daughter’s nimble body.

(Title: Documentary Film directed by Michael Apted)

“I’ve had the time of my life”

That song has been playing in my head for days because I am actually having the time of my life. Again. At long last and at my own disbelief.

Vanessa Paradis and Romain Duris doing their own “Dirty Dancing” to the orginal movie’s soundtrack in “Heartbreaker”.

Before leaving for my summer destination, I knew this trip was going to be a decisive one for me. I didn’t know how. What I did know was that I was going to have to face several of the foes who had so weakened me over the past year. After a heavy dozen months, I truly feared this unavoidable encounter. I felt any new attack on my person might bring me to my knees. And so, I entered the lion’s den with my head held high and a smile on my face, and contrary to all my expectations, I found the lions had reverted to the state of cubs. No swords were drawn, no venom spewed. I glided between the hurdles rather than jumping over them and I made my way out safely, gracefully and unscathed. I came out liberated and relieved, yet no battles had been fought or won. Silence and polite smiles, however insincere, rid me of a burden that had been weighing me down for so many months.

Taken from art by Tijana Djapovic (c)

Out I came, and on I went to stay with dear friends who took my hand and gave me their support, encouragement and, above all, faith that I could create again. The elusive faith in myself I had had so much of in the past, was slowly coming back. Day after day, we worked on my project for a screenplay, we discussed the storyline, the characters, the music, the atmosphere of the film. Its magical story was born in my mind three years ago, but had never quite taken shape. And with each answered question, with each detail analysed, my life force was coming back to me. Inch by inch, my self-esteem was growing, my posture was changing and my light started shining again. I thus spent precious days and nights on a beautiful island, immersed in a universe I was creating with the help of my friends, encountering exceptional individuals who were adding to the experience. And then on I went again, with the energy of Toy Story’s Buzz Lightyear as he shouts out: “To infinity… and beyond!”

Since then, I have been on an amazing ride, shedding burdens and wrinkles, worries and doubts, with each step I take. Where I had come to feel invisible, hidden under layers of self-doubt, disappointment, hurt and exhaustion, I am coming back to life, and how it shows! People are opening doors for me (both literally and figuratively), men and women alike are smiling at me, friends and acquaintances are showering me with invitations. I could say it feels like I am 27 again, and yet it’s not quite that. This is just as exhilarating, but I have left naivety behind and just kept my undying idealism.

To be sure, this fabulous phase will pass, as have the heavy ones. But I am tasting each drop of this sweet nectar, which I sometimes doubted I would ever taste again. Once more in my life, I am Woman. Not A woman. In some ways THE Woman. But more accurately simply Woman. The one I discovered hidden inside me when I moved to Montreal. The one who had sprung from the starry-eyed exuberant little girl I once was. The one who is reconnecting with her intellect, her emotions and her body.

Illustration by Tijana Djapovic (c) of my storybook character “Leona” loosely based on my childhood self

A few months ago, I wrote of the gratitude I knew I should feel, but couldn’t. Today, I can. I am grateful for each person who has been crossing my path these last few weeks and igniting fire after fire, whether in my mind or my soul. I am even more grateful to all who have been with me, walking alongside me, during these heavy months. Today, I don’t only know that I am blessed, I can feel it too.

And so, I end this reflection on a contented note. Whatever Life has thrown my way or gifted me with lately, I have always known the sun would shine on me again. Now it has and it does. And I am oh so grateful.

(Title: Song written by J. De Nicola, D. Markowitz, F. Previte in “Dirty Dancing”)