Faded soft colors
When you get older, the colors fade...
I do not only mean the dioptric adjustments, which have to be done almost every six months, but also the colours of the emotions.
You've got so much after 50 years: first the exhausting quest for independence, then finding out who you really are.
Then, if you are lucky, you meet someone with whom you can throw this self and its you into one pot. And then you might even dare the risk - incomprehensible in retrospect - to promise this guy that you will stay with him for the rest of his life. I did, I'm crazy! And I'm still at his side.
We have three children who are already big. Not in your head, of course (I'll just say that now), but as a mother you're standing next to it and have to and want to let her do it. Amazed and sometimes a little envious, I see how they live their radiant colours without a helmet. Life is so beautiful... without But!
And the mother is so afraid for them, wishes them love without suffering and yet knows that it almost never works so beautifully. Let him go. To be there when needed and wanted. Reset.
So many have gone by now: Parents, friends, companions. Final and sometimes painful and miserable. After each of these for me so stirring and painful deaths I had to sort myself again and find the strength to continue.
"Samsara (Sanskrit, n., संसार, saṃsāra; Pali: saṃsāra; literally: "constant wandering") is the term for the perpetual cycle of being, the cycle of becoming and passing away or the cycle of rebirths in the Indian religions Buddhism, Jainism and partial currents of Hinduism."
I'm no longer a believer, but I'm still moved by the "everything flows" feeling that this beautiful perfume gives me.
Guerlain's "Samsara" is - like me - an old ham, but THAT's what it is for me, because he could accompany me all these years like a second skin.
When I discovered this fragrance in the 90s, it appeared as if it underlined the new in and on me: it was clear, like a freshly painted deep dark red. a little oriental, radiant, pure, honest and big. He was like an orientation, had a fighting heart, was a guard rail for me and also underlined youthful attractiveness. He was uncompromising, straight. Sometimes it's biting. That's how I always wanted to be.
30 years later, he's no longer deep dark red on me, any more than I am. Today it smells a little stone washed, a faded brownish red-orange. The fabric has become much softer, in some places even a bit threadbare, but it still seems to withstand all loads.
He's still clear, still honest, but he's become so much milder. More cuddly, friendly and also more tolerant, devoted to the fact that things are as they are.
But that's not why it's any less beautiful!
I'm curious where Samsara and I are going to go...