Wise Friend,
Re hiatus. What’s new?
Sensitive Friend,
I went to visit my family. Days before that, I spent (wasted?) time on buying presents. I had zero time for my thoughts.
While my soul finds satisfaction, I neglect the side of it which wants to write.
I went to an evening talk about a book. I didn’t read it. However, by now, I’m such a specialist in mediocrity (I can’t call this guru, can I?) that I decided to go to talks about books, even when I hadn’t read the book beforehand because of lack of time.
This way I learn maybe a little and hope to retain what I hear. Yes, I feel slightly frustrated, as everybody else had read the book, and therefore they can comment or ask questions, while I stay silent and try to be invisible – I found both difficult.
Today, I went on a tour, “Boston on foot”. What a beautiful city! I thought a lot about how I spent my time. If I imagine I’m a tourist who needs to work in the cities to visit, then I feel suddenly that I experience luxury and I live in luxury. Talk about glass half full.
In reality, right now, I don’t know what to do with myself and on what to focus. Therefore, I read whatever I seem to choose first. I’ve started dance lessons – swing and samba–which balances the fact that lately, I’ve read about theological concepts.
From time to time, I think about studying for MBA which brings up a slight sense of nausea, as it’s so far from what my soul needs, though it would be wise.
I feel I need to learn about the stock market, which also brings up the mix between nausea and wisdom.
Rarely, I buy a lotto ticket. Maybe reading about theology, being overall a nice person, and actually buying the lotto ticket would bring forth the propitious energy for an instant win, though unbelievable. Then, I won’t need an MBA or knowledge about the stock market.
I had a beautiful day. I brought with me the LA weather for a few days, and I wander around aimlessly, though absorbing.
Wise Friend.
A week has passed since your last email. I didn’t answer immeditaly. It happened before though for different reasons. I’ve registered your current preoccupations: your flight to see your family, samba, theology, the “Boston on foot”, the pseudo-cultural settings and a lot, a lot of thoughts I assume given mainly your tone of sarcasm, self-irony and a pensive sadness transpiring between the lines. I’m not allowing myself to fall again into mt cheap two-cents considerations, though I can’t abstain not remarking “the life is hard, and not only life is hard”.
The glass is half full due to your somehow quasi-absolute freedom (we should avoid using absolute terms..) to do what you want, subject to your limits to the understanding of a “nice girl” that you seem to attach to yourself. Certainly, you are much more than just that, and probably this is it.
Let me walk you through some cultural events I attended.
We attended a movie festival with movies from the country where we both grew up. One of them was remarkable, let‘s call it royal. Two actors, originally from there though now living here, were fantastic. The audience knew each line, and everybody recited as the movie went on. It was mad, beautifully mad.
I attended an evening with Symphony number 2 of Mahler “Resurrection”. I’m an old person. This was the first time in my life I heard it in a concert hall (how else?) What a revelation. A MONUMENT!
Add to this a lot, a lot of work.
Sensitive Friend,
(Glasses, glasses, to drink and be drunk with water)
Right now I can’t call my life hard. I prefer to do what I do, as I do, as I prefer the glass half full to the half empty.
Part of me wanted to let you know I don’t really spend my time entirely to the level of my dreams, though others think what I do is top-top.
We both know it could be better. I’m at peace about adding water from time to time, even if only drops. I imagine it might be a beautiful wine (I don’t drink alcohol) and I take sip by sip. At the half of the glass, I’m drunk.
I envy you for the shows you mentioned and for the opportunity you have to share that pleasure with somebody so close to you.
Recently, I drove for the first time from Boston to NY and back. I was afraid and delighted. I couldn’t believe my elated emotions. Soon, this will become routine. Such I am, I get drunk on my own feelings.
I must go back to samba.
eachword-eachday 