Archive for January, 2019

What Surrounds Passion?

Posted: January 13, 2019 in author, book; books, communication, editor, epistolary, literature, meaning, Musing, Musings, Novel, opinion, philosophy, relationships, writing
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Wise Friend,

Travelling around the world for a few years was vital. Now I know, what I mostly miss: having close friends, with whom I don’t have to censure what I say. I had a friend like this in LA. Lately, I’ve been living in a friendship hiatus.

Yes, I can call anybody around the world, but a close encounter (face-to-face) weighs a lot in gold.

A beautiful relationship would answer this void, but it seems I don’t get any help here. I’m so surprised, and I’m asking myself: how do I appear to a good, intelligent woman, what do my manners, looks, face convey? I have no answer. So I’m not concentrating on women now. One day, I caught myself praying.

Wandering Friend,

I think you brought it as close to God as you could.

Wise Friend,

It is time to let it go.
I’m now concentrating on just being relaxed, always, which I’m not, on being warm, always, which I’m not. I scare myself when my tone is too blunt and frustrated when I feel heavy because I have no other reason to be like this besides of this internal garbage I still seem to carry.

Wandering Friend,

You are a passionate person in any area, in the art you love, books you read, museums you visit, in friendships, and love.

Wise Friend,

I blame my current isolation on being a passionate person. I’ve become more and more aware that this passion I have isn’t surrounded by clean feelings, it doesn’t live in a background of serenity.

It comes surrounded by garbage, by losing sight of the other person, and the uneasiness this other person might feel, by a momentarily strong willingness to have my ideas accepted and acknowledged and, importantly, bought-in.

It’s almost as if I enjoy a subject too much and expressing it ends up hurting me, not because of the impression others have, but because it manifests itself with a self-destructive attitude.

How to continue, how to relax, detach, be conversational, charming without passion and without apathy?

In fact, how to separate the passion from the garbage that wraps it? How to bring it first wrapped in serenity, and if possible lightness and happiness around it?

I don’t have a solution, besides ensuring I have to feel the serenity for long spells, choose this state, talk detached, and not let anger touch me–only in exceptional cases, but even then I don’t want it ever.

I don’t mind sadness, but anger is my biggest enemy.

Wandering Friend,

Serenity with no passion? Who will you become?

Wise Friend,

The real me.

Is Empathy Ever Accurate?

Posted: January 8, 2019 in author, book; books, editor, epistolary, Fiction, literature, meaning, Musings, Novel, opinion, philosophy, writing
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Wise Friend,

I can’t find the words to describe what’s going on within me.

I tried telling select details to people close to me. Yes! Only “select details”, and I wish they understand all of them.

While I talk, I hear myself, and I can’t find the words to describe accurately as if I don’t want to give it all away. Yes, I try to be reasonable and avoid being dramatic. I want to be decent, not to overwhelm them, and not to impose on them.

I want them to support me, and not to drive me nuts either.

I drown, and words might pull me out. Where are the words?

Lovely Friend,

We pain for different reasons. I won’t be ever able to know precisely your pain. How could I? Nevertheless, I break down for you. Empathy is never accurate.

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“Not To Be Reproduced” by Rene Magritte, 1937

Our hidden unhealed pains surprise us when the suffering of others moves us to tears. Maybe we cry for ourselves.

How Clueless Am I?

Posted: January 6, 2019 in author, book; books, communication, editor, epistolary, Fiction, literature, meaning, Musing, Musings, Novel, opinion, philosophy, relationships, writing
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Wise Friend.

I have a highly educated friend working in garden maintenance.  He asked me to join him for two weeks. I wanted to do some physical work. I accepted.

We joke with quizzing customers about both us having masters and somehow having become blue-collar workers.

Wow Friend,

How do you cope with the physical work?

Wise Friend,

Gosh! It is hot and hard! At the end of each day, I’m tired and euphoric, intoxicated with feeling great. I love being outside, and I love hard physical work.

Wow Friend,

Shall I envy you?

Wise Friend,

Yes, please do!

We chitchat a lot. My friend mentioned that one little conversation back at home becomes the obsession for a man if he works alone and nobody distracts him. This is the risk of men doing manual work by themselves. He returns home emotionally worked up. Sensitive to extreme he demands assurance to rebuild his trust. The wife resents it.

I attended a book club today. Mainly women. I repeated to them what he told me. You should have heard them. This is what they said:

“Women are extremely good at making an elephant out of a fly inside their heads.”

“It’s a myth that women don’t obsess on small comments and gestures.”

“They speak with all their girlfriends, and they expect full support for the ‘seriousness’ of the issue. If the friend tried to shake them up, to check their priorities, the anger would be endless.”

“Back home, she lashes out emotionally.”

I was speechless. Did you know that? How clueless am I?

Wow Friend,

Somehow, yes. How is it in your home?

Wis Friend,

Sometimes, we both lash out. We take turns. Probably, it depends on who obsessed that very day. You don’t want to be a witness. Thank God, we love each other.

What’s Love Without Trust?

Posted: January 2, 2019 in author, book; books, communication, editor, epistolary, Fiction, literature, meaning, Musing, Musings, Novel, opinion, philosophy, relationships, writing
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Wise Friend,

I’m looking back at conversations, emails, and turmoils people shared. So much pain due to broken trust.

I elevate trust about love. What’s love without trust?

Good Friend,

It’s NOTHING. No trust, no love.