Archive for the ‘meaning’ Category

Sensitive Friend (quite a few times you called yourself “the one so good to give advice to others”),

From time to time, we have no choice but to accept realities we don’t know, and our perception of others would be wrong. We also have to admit the construct of others about ourselves, and their impression would be wrong occasionally.

It’s too complicated like this, in writing! By the way, the ‘compliments’ I mentioned last time, were not necessarily from my cousin. They don’t matter nowadays and yes they are silly. However, they had affected my behaviour and disposition for many years in the past.

Finito! A long time ago! Unfortunately, because of them, I ignored warm gestures I should have accepted and would have been healthy to feel and have. Fortunately, I continue to communicate with those people.

I don’t throw out of the window some relationships, especially as I need to maintain a behaviour as an example for my children, even if they are by now adults.

Wise Friend,

There’s nothing wrong in this, I have to be circumspect you don’t misunderstand me.

This way you end up liking yourself. It’s normal in your case, as I don’t believe anybody who knows you doesn’t like you.

Therefore, I keep bringing up those books located in American libraries intending to improve the quality of life (self-confidence…). They recommend such results, and therefore, the goal is reached. You’ve created a method, unconsciously out of instinct.

This is good for you and this all that matters. I repeat, I understand you. How much I do!

Sensitive Friend,

Again those “vapourware” books? Without a solid basis, after reading them, one ends up talking as if slightly dizzy.

However, these books have had a positive role by discussing excellent values in a world where many people are either fanatic or incredibly selfish.
People, otherwise too self-centred, learned with the help of such books or similar workshops to listen and know others also have something to say

Such books brought to light traumatic family secrets, well hidden in the past.
It’s good that victims of incest, paedophilia, rape, violence are now free to speak out and use such book for recuperation.

Wise Friend,

Personally, I’ve told you before, I have a different opinion. I think one’s personality must manifest first of all somehow passively, though the way you are and you show yourself, for others to appreciate you (or despise you, or watch you indifferently) step by step, and culminating maybe with love and passion.

The feedback those around gave you (within a variety of circles of interference) might give you a sign of how you are, better than how you see yourself.

Indeed, not all reactions matter, though. The reaction of those important to you matter.

This has been my brief theory for today. I hope this doesn’t antagonise you. This time, I don’t know on which leg I catch you. Had I told you these words face to face, you’d understand better.

P.S. I exchanged a few words with your cousin. He called me a cynic, as this is how his retina has a faux imagination about me, though we are amicable friends.

Sensitive Friend,

Was that P.S. necessary? I love my cousin, and you know that.

I don’t agree with you statement about the feedback of the others and who one is. Ther’s a some truth in that, though only some.

Wise Friend,

I was just wondering what is going on with you and these long silent spells of yours. I received your picture. You look so well as if years haven’t gone by.

Sensitive Friend,

I’m thinking, not writing, “How come? What do you mean by ‘as if years haven’t gone by?’ Did I look like this when I was twenty?”
I’m writing, “Thank you.”

Wise Friend,

Don’t be slick. This is a provocation.
You’re welcome, in the strict sense of the word “welcome”.

How is your family?

Sensitive Friend,

They are well. My cousin lost a lot of weight, and he looks well. The children are cute. Maya is Maya, much to admire about her, though any discussion requires to be beyond delicate.

Mum is quite well though unhappy about not being in the centre of attention and cannot find anything interesting to focus on. This is a huge shift. She refuses to go out by herself. Therefore, she and her husband play a game of interdependence and power, for which I have no patience.

Unfortunately, I visit them only for two days at a time. I would like to visit them more, even monthly, had it been cheaper. Not out of pleasure, but out of obligation. I hope no longer for emotional and intellectual communication with my family. In their eyes, I’m the black sheep and basta.

It’s not fair to write these details to you. You asked. Would I write they are lovely, I would feel uncomfortable with you and dishonest. Better not to ask me again. What’s the point? I end up pulling you into a “litany”.

I owe respect to my mum. Thank God, I go there in peace, and I return in peace. The emotional tumult has been over years ago. I watch them, and I learn a lot, and I try to apply what I learn to my relationship with my children. Maybe I’m wrong, but I want to let them take the freedom to take risks and to lead their lives the way they want. Ouuf! This subject is out of the way–let’s move on.

Wise Friend,

I don’t always have words to answer. While I read, I feel like sending a smile, to show surprise, a nod without words. No emojis, though.

Sensitive Friend,

Hundreds of things I must do have flooded me. During such times, writing to you falls by the wayside. I sacrifice you. Your answers, help me though. They are funny and make me laugh, and they come from a space of a bond with a male who happens to be both solid and sensitive, a different kind of friendship, though significant for me.

I hope you don’t confuse me with my cousin. My relationship with my cousin during our youth helped me learn how to bond with males. He invited me over when he had male friends or acquaintances coming to visit. They were from such diverse ways of life: some well-read, others rough and never read a book, and those in between, rough and first generation to read and enjoy art and literature. My cousin let me be there in the room, asking me to stay quiet. I learnt how to relate to anybody with fun and ease, irrespective of their background. He also taught me how to befriend women as friends.

Wise Friend,

I’m not sure if I should respond to your letter. It’s beautiful, sincere, well felt, personal and human. I only want to tell you it surprised me your ”hope” that I don’t see you as being like your cousin.

What you wrote about “the black sheep” I can’t comprehend and basta. I suspect that there is more in your head and maybe there are Freudian explanations. I have no cousins or siblings, and I can’t know better. However, I saw my daughter’s influence on my son, and it led to similar problems.

It is what it is, and it doesn’t merit your preoccupation.

You know what you know. Anybody who knows you knows with what to deal.
I don’t know why I chose this subject out of everything you wrote.

I want you to believe me (I hope I don’t disappoint you!) I don’t feel you sacrifice me.
When you feel like writing, write; when not, don’t. It’s elementary and unnatural otherwise.

Wise Friend,

Nature was mad today. It poured with fury. It will continue during the night and tomorrow.

Sensitive Friend,

Oh boy! Take care!

I was in Philadelphia during the Floyd hurricane, decades ago, attending a conference. The friends with whom I stayed begged me to come home by lunchtime before the water would have covered the train tracks.

At 10:00 am the conference people announced that the airport was closed.  After the sessions finished, 12,000 people had to stay there. It would have been an excellent opportunity for business.

While feeling guilty, I left hoping to catch a train. It worried me I would end up in a stormy city with no place to sleep and no way to get back home. As I entered the train station, I heard the announcement my route was suspended. I rushed out, and luckily I caught a cab. The driver told me the road I wanted him to use was not accessible. He took a long trip around. I couldn’t care less, I was in a dry cab and sure I’ll get back home.

When I arrived at my friends’ house, we went in the storm to look at the river. The river covered the streets, and we could see only the top of the traffic lights, popping out of the water.

A nearby, usually fickle, waterfall became a torrent. The water was hitting the bridge with all its might.

Suddenly, Floyd retreated, the night descended, and the stars showed up.

Next days were so sunny I had this feeling that this time the sun was angry.

Wise Friend,

Philadelphia has many nice spots, some beautiful, and a nice mixture of old architecture and small buildings.
A famous person once said, “I went last week to Philadelphia, and it was closed”.

Sensitive Friend,

Hmmm! Maybe!! However, I trust my friend and his passionate love for the city. They have a marvellous Rodin museum.

Wise Friend,

This time, let’s make no sense. Let’s throw thoughts to each other. Unrelated, maybe even illogical.

Sensitive Friend,

You start! Perhaps I can fall in line.

Wise Friend,

Here it is: What word would describe a state of mind when you have questions and thoughts about some events, and they are not real questions–like interrogatively or judgemental, and not worries either? They are on your mind.

Sensitive Friend

Ohhh! I don’t know.
Let me try as well, the throwing part: I’m not even sure if life is unfair, though it is a mystery.

Wise Friend,

I feel as we are already in full winter while people around me tell me they enjoy the Indian summer. I delight in the crispy air mornings and evenings and ask around how much crispier they will get. I get these mysterious smiling answers. They assure me it will get much crispier.

Sensitive Friend,

Driving now is a joy. The trees are in any shade of yellow, green, red-purple you can imagine. Not only the trees but the bushes, too. It is so strange. While still light with the sun practically gone, I go out of the building, and I feel as if the sun is shining, because of the colours of the leaves. Even when raining, I have the same sensations.

Wise Friend,

I’m so unwilling to miss any tree changing its colours, and I have to be extremely careful when I drive, as I look even inside the gardens I pass not to lose any autumn effect.

I imagine having a camera all around the car and being able to push a button on the steering wheel.

Sweet Friend,

You wrote you dated a few times and how frustrating it is to feel scrutinised.

Wise Friend,

The men I meet think I’m the one under scrutiny. They don’t know they are under my scrutiny. I didn’t come so far away from home, to stop scrutinising.

Sweet Friend,

I was thinking about the word you used. I know what you mean, though I hope you enjoyed the dates to some extent.

Wise Friend.

What should one do? Take a risk? How else? Be cautious? How else? Go with the flow? How else? Be gullible? How else? Be trustful? How else?

Sweet Friend,

You went there, faraway, to find a husband. Do they want to become husbands more then they want here? How far do you need to go before you can approach the subject even if only as a light, rushed joke?

Wise Friend,

It’s become a “shame on you” to want to know this too soon. A wish that needs to be in secret. A desire to be denied, minimised, and about which to joke. Once upon a time, becoming a husband was a sign of pride in oneself. Not anymore.

Sweet Friend,

What? Do you ask him on the first date?

Wise Friend,

When I feel like “Heck with it?”

Sweet Friend,

How did they react? I would love to be at the next table. Did you see any of them again? Risky filtering I might say. Is it funny?

Wise Friend,

Haha! Ah, it brings me a sense of relief.

Sweet Friend,

My mind is blank. I have no answers for you. Still, I can’t hold back to tell you to enjoy meeting people. Find out about their life and likes. Delight in their little surprises. The rules changed many decades ago. Somehow, still, they need to be relearned again and again.

Shush! Don’t bring it up too soon! You might filter the good ones. Also, sometimes “Heck with it!” Seek their happy side. If he’s moody, say “good-bye!”

Sensitive Friend,

I used to speak six languages: none of them perfect, ever. Three have disappeared, not wholly, almost gone. I can order a sandwich and maybe listen to get what you mean – to some point. Therefore, I love when people correct me in either of my top three languages: humor, gentleness help.

Sometimes I use words, confident that I’m clear. Later I see, from the reaction of the other, that I used an improper word. I mean inappropriate: it’s either a bit too sexy in that part of the world or hurting feelings in another. In my mind, the word or expression is clear, soft and caring.

So I ask you to help me, and your response is to stay with the initial wording, as you understand what I meant and also you enjoy the mishap. You prefer me not to correct anything as thus I would deviate into being too correct with the words I use. How am I going to win the battle of languages and of a brain that insists on grasping a language at a maximum of 83.66%-95.21%?

So here it is: I used “the importance given to this subject is not suitable to…”. I’m asking you: Shall I use “undeserved importance”?

Wise Friend,

No, because when you use the new word, it brings in a falsity, which denigrates and makes the core of your idea unnatural. Then, I get confused, and I lose what you’re referring to, and then I wonder why you mention whatever new thing might show up.

Maybe you thought about the word “forbidden,” but this is debatable as well.