Archive for the ‘Musing’ Category

Wise Friend,

The intensity I’m feeling now in enjoying art again is so soothing. I feel that I’m looking after myself when I make time for art and for the other silly things I like.

Last week, I drove to New York to attend a ballet performance. I drove back in the snow for the first time in my life-scary.

During the last few days, I was angry with men.

Sweet Friend,

Don’t tell me you are now thinking of them as a sub-species?

Wise Friend,

Not at all and especially not nowadays. Not when having you as my wise friend. I know so many good men. I have a son, siblings, a father – these are all beautiful people, strong, manly, loving husbands, fathers and friends.

Today, I had a few frustrating experiences; not romantic, only professional, but annoying beyond belief.

I met a whole group of men so fragile emotionally. I was staring at them, telling myself I might give up on ever having another marriage. Not with such types. I want a relationship free of weak men. I had this fleeting decision, and I was serene.

Sweet Friend,

I know atrocious women, and I know atrocious men.

Once, Michael, our mutual friend, wrote: “Probably, I belong to the group of men ‘unable to assume responsibilities.’ However, we should not rush here. Sometimes, assuming responsibility requires cutting into “living” flesh. Other times, the hesitation might signal fear to not wound (oneself and others), or just lack of confidence in a specific moment. Whichever you turn it, you can explain why and how each time.”

Would you call him a weakling?

Wise Friend,

No, I wouldn’t.

Sweet Friend,

Your calculations of positives (you’re now serene) and negatives (giving up something you want and need) would end up (please don’t reproach me for writing these) being false, as nothing is sadder than being alone for decades. To go to bed and wake up alone and not spending your life with somebody you may share emotions, sufferings, would be very difficult. Don’t wish yourself such a life. Trust your stars. If you end up alone, as life might be, I trust you know how to enjoy it anyway. This is who you are, enthusiastic and full of interests. Still, without sadness, try to find a man. Don’t lose your enthusiasm.

Wise Friend,

It was just a short moment that lasted 24 hours.

As irony would happen, as soon as I took that sudden decision, quite a few men invited me out. Another uninteresting lot. I must convey something as, at the end of the dinner, they say we are friends with such an emphasis it makes me smile.

They don’t know who rejected whom. In the name of friendship, they ask me to not feel uncomfortable calling them. Would they know how much they bored me? Why would I call, then? Last night, one of them phoned, still in his courting stage. I returned his call and finished in a matter of minutes. While talking with him, I felt suddenly exhausted. I wanted to go to bed and read. I took a shower, my energy returned, I read for an hour, and it was so comforting. I don’t want to become a recluse.

I’ll not give up, though I might never search as I used to do a few years ago.

Wise Friend,

Last night I had a strange dream. I was with my ex-husband (both of us looking much younger), and I was trying to rekindle our broken marriage.  I was seductive and trying to be endearing while talking. He responded to that. How? I can’t remember. Nothing extreme.

Then the dream moved towards a public space, and for some reason at that moment I understood my ex-husband was cheating me with a woman who happened to be there. In the dream, I knew she had been trying for a long while to seduce him.

I approached them, and I talked angrily to both, telling her she should be ashamed and stop immediately.

Another scene followed. I saw the same woman again, looking very religious and wearing a wig. I pulled her wig off the head, wanting to shame her in public. While dreaming, a thought crossed my mind they could sue me for this. That made me turn to him, and I told him I was leaving him and this time it was for good.

It was very intense. I woke up, and then I thought about Jungians, and post-Jungians, Gestalt, psychotherapists, and psychoanalysts. What a golden dream for them to explain all these mysteries of my probably turbulent soul, the hidden unknown of me to me.

Imagine Gestalt—me wanting to be a good wife and loving, the seductress and the one getting angry and violent, me the religious and both getting mad at myself. Funny, I believe none of this is true.

My Sweet Friend,

Years ago, I attended some Gestalt workshops as the trends demanded of us, and brought in my dreams to share at workshops. I felt so ridiculous in front of the therapist and others. I felt embarrassed when others went through their exercises; for them and for myself being there.

I couldn’t accept I was the street on which I was while dreaming, the tree at the corner, the grass in the meadow and the meadow itself, the table in the room, the six chairs upside down. After that, I read so much about dreams, and I can’t agree with anybody. I quickly, carelessly, developed a theory of mine, never shared.

We let our imagination run amok during the day, and we try to control it, while awake.

At night, while we sleep, we have little say and we are too relaxed even if in our dreams we are agitated.

Certainly, the dreams represent us. However, a lot of the details happen as we see others. I refuse to accept that every aspect is part of who we are, though they result from our mind combining our perceptions of what others did and our imagination in a sleeping state.

Wise Friend,

Indeed, we daydream. Do they Gestalt daydreaming? Why not?

My Sweet Friend,

What have you unleashed?

Wise Friend,

A new stream of income? A new frenzy of workshops?

Wise Friend,

I work in a speciality I thought, when young, I would like computers. How wrong I was. However, here I am with a beautiful family, with a sense of responsibility, earning reasonable well, without being rich as others assume about those working in IT.

Supporting myself and my family offers them and me so much dignity. Freedom, independence, self-reliance are essential for my soul.

To me, IT is soul-destroying. There’s no question that my keen interests in people and in other many subjects offer me some richness during the day (I manage people, others manage me) and especially outside of working hours. So contrary to popular beliefs, I don’t work in my dream profession, but I try to love what I do. The vast majority of IT people aren’t nerds or creative. Why do they build these myths around IT?

I acknowledge knowing how to code, understanding IT architecture and other related subjects taught me useful skills to help with the part of life I cherish – finance, being with children and mainly writing.

Not-a-Nerd Friend,

This utopian “life and executive coaching” trend of asking billions of people to work in the professions they dream is unrealistic and poisonous. Many people work in the profession for which they have skills as that’s where they started.

Many thought they would like a specific profession. Sooner or later they find out that their work is tedious, repetitive, and not even challenging, despite being an intellectual kind of endeavour. This is so true for IT.

There are so many important jobs! All of them beautiful?

Wise Friend,

After 20 years of hard work, I reached a conclusion that people in my industry are completely mad. Why do I think the same happens in many corporate professions?

When I use the word “corporate” I mean any organisation, private or government.There are many common characteristics of team interactions.

Why am I now thinking many in IT are mad people?They are revengeful, hysterical, ego-maniacal, obsessed with status and to be some kind of leaders, and unable to accept responsibility.Overall, these are signs of character weakness.

Until now I dealt with numerous wretched people though I’ve resigned to the fact that individuals can be wretched. Today, I reached the end of my patience. For years, I didn’t generalise, even when such behaviours were there in my face, close to my eyes. The fragility of these people astonished me. Today I generalised (most) not universalised (as in all), but generalised. Men and women alike.

Not-a-Nerd Friend,

I find many people nice and weak. Two of us might be strong though we can’t deny our own weaknesses. I have no doubt that during some of our interactions we came across as mad, weak, etc. And we will.

I love when people distinguish between generalisation and universal. Love it Love it.

Wise Man,

Your stories are real stories. We are made of our emotions.

Lovely Friend,

We are made of emotions and mind. The latter needs drilling to hang around.

You don’t have to apologise for making me worry. Your news saddened me and I wanted to get in touch with you.

You have to share good and bad news. If friends feel for you, you don’t withdraw to save them those feelings. Unless…

Wise Friend,

Unless what?

Lovely Friend,

Unless their own anxiety overcomes their ability to listen well and support you emotionally. If that happens is better to retreat.

Wise Friend,

How do you assess that?

Lovely Friend,

You need support at a specific time, you share, and suddenly you feel you need to address the anxiety of the other. Your problem got replaced, pushed aside. Change the subject or politely leave the conversation.

Indeed, you are tired. Nothing exhausts us more than the struggles of the soul.

When I sense that demon tormenting my soul and I tell myself  “here comes again”, and I become an observer and a bearer of the torment. I split.

Wise Friend,

I don’t like these moments. They are not as tragic as they sound though they preoccupy me.

Lovely Friend,

It’s true. Others seem to think we are on the verge of disintegrating when we want to talk again and again about what happened and how we reacted. Find the rare ones who know better.

We want to look into the issue to become clear and understand why the torment started.

If there is a chance to find a solution, I let it be. The moment I sense there is no solution, and it’s only a torment, I peruse my body and my main points of personal history to find the disturbed button and then I distract myself. I never deny, but I don’t want to waste any more time. I do force a smile even if alone.

Yes, it’s easier said than done. It takes time, and it’s doable.


Sensitive Friend,

Unlike before, you’ve sent me many quotes about our preent times. They were all critical or sarcastic.

I believe, in many ways, we live a world better than previous generations. In reality, we don’t know how it was for them. Maybe, they complained about their own times. I am wary about those following us.

I miss the manners and a level of deliberate and desired cordiality and the control of one’s fury and anger.

Our generation started to denounce self-control and encourage us to manifest rage and fury with more ease.

It has been like a full speed snowball effect. The generations following us turned this to maximum intensity and confuse necessary and essential honesty with sheer and, in my opinion, wilful hurt.

Daily, we witness hysterical behaviour, and resilience (the new mantra) is gone. How can anyone be happy without self-control? How?

We, our generation, bears much blame for these outcomes.

Wise Friend,

Becoming actively aware not to expect from somebody who can’t offer in some areas we need support happens as part of the painful ways of personal deceptions. Hence the expression “follies of youth.” That’s why you like repeating “This is the last thing I need!”

Sensitive Friend,

You digressed. Yes, I learned to not expect the same. I’m sure, in turn, many times, I fail to give or support others, and I don’t even notice. We might think we provide a lot. Some do more than others. Some give nothing and have no doubts about their generosity. I hope many non-givers are at least honest with themselves.

Nature gifted us with a variety of optimism we call “instinct of conservation”, which doesn’t allow us to despair. “La tristezza nasce quando la speranza muore.” Google is of no help here. “The sadness is born when the hope dies.”

Though, we have our limits when nothing can be justified this way, when terrible traumas happened. We both have been spared.

Wise Friend,

I’m re-reading your last letter (I know, it’s an email) and I have some observations. How else?

It doesn’t surprise me that, at some stage, what I wrote would have infuriated you.

However, I prefer if you let me know straightway because for me it’s crucial to read your true reactions, and some “official” or “correct” response.

Frequently, I feel that my thoughts and opinions might be inopportune towards you.

However, you stay steady on a “terra firma” and follow a line of irreproachable correctness. Only once, you hinted that I project nonsense and that I mix reality with abstract images. So what, as if I don’t know…

What I would not like (though I have no way out) is to see that you boxed me as well into one of those “subjects”. I wish to believe it is not so.

I envy your ability to feel good around people you don’t socialise outside of specific events. I feel comfortable only with those I could meet and be open anywhere and at any time. Maybe that’s why I became a misanthrope, and I’m not social. I’m not good at acting. At the same time, I’m avid to communicate, to ventilate opinions and perceptions and when I have a partner who is truthful, not superficial, and this is one of the essential components of the dialogue with you.

Sensitive Friend,

I assume you refer to the letter about tabulation. I think, and I might be wrong, you fear the box-in (such a vapourware term!)

We both know, I would refrain from discussing some subjects with you. In turn, you would also avoid addressing everything with me. How else?

People do that in many of most successful intimate relationships. They protect each other unless they need not do that at all, and they protect some deeply hidden parts of themselves.

We are good friends. Common, be honest with yourself and if you wish with me.

I accepted a long time ago I don’t need to understand everybody and everything. I don’t need to know everything either. What a relief! There’s a personal balance for friendships or relationships to allow for that and still be strong.

Sensitive Friend,

We choose tough subjects for discussions. Perhaps, this friendship would not last face-to-face, as many of our values and interests diverge.
Wise Friend,
You smashed me! Let alone, that it would be even possible to have such dialogues because of millions of reasons!
What’s there to surprise?
Please tell me precisely what “heavy” subjects of mine infuriate you, so I try to avoid them.
Renouncing the dialogue doesn’t seem probable from my end, even if spells of silence would follow, mainly depending on you (though not only).
Sensitive Friend,
What can I say? One thing is sure. I like this country though my stay here might be shorter than I would want to.
I lived in four countries for long periods of time, each. Many define one of them as the happy country. I found that a misnomer. Too many of people there drink a lot, much too much. They lack a joie de vivre I see here. I’m not talking about my close friends. Would find here within this vast country too many people who never read a serious book, never heard a classical music performance, unless when watching a movie? Yes, indeed.
On the other hand, I cherish the concert halls, the museums, the incredible variety of discussions on so many radio stations. I also meeting local people, just finding out about their life. I have a lot in common with them, and sometimes I feel as if I have nothing in common with them. Right now I lived in an odd confused state, mixed with a bit of madness and a lot of serenity. I might fear it’s temporary; I push that fear away as it gives me no help or support.
I’m in contact with people from everywhere. Something strange happens with my heart. I like others more and more, and I feel as I care for many. This is even though I would be reluctant to spend endless time with most of them. I find myself, thinking about what issues I can raise with each person and what can I share intimately about those subjects, but not about anything else. This is a selective friendship intimacy, Two subjects with one friend, three different ones with another.
I can’t be alone going through life like this, am I? When I say goodbye, I miss each person straight away. An odd state of mind.
Certainly, many others leave me cold or lost my trust (do they care?).
What were we talking about?
Wise Friend,
Are you tabulating friends and intimate conversations? If yes, I think you might be alone, doing that.
Sensitive Freind,
I sensed you’d answer this way. Maybe because I migrated so many times, and then moved back, I ended up with this tabulation, as you call it.

Wise Friend,

Finally, I received your long emails. I read them as compositions looking at both undertones, one as literature the other of the soul. Your observations become more valuable in your eyes as you write them down on “paper”, and makes you feel more comfortable with yourself. This is a goal in itself. There is no irony here!. On the contrary, you write beautifully, confirming the opinion of this reader that you “possess a fine and sharp spirit of observation woven with instincts full of vitality and curiosity leading to continuous revelations.”

To go further (without being asked to do so) with the analysis, I note your extreme sensibility in understanding that French movie. I strongly doubt that anything else but a French film could present those relationships as such.  I can’t imagine how that would be possible with an American or any other European production.

I envy your availability to access the cultural phenomena, and I understand the satisfaction you feel when you describe what you understood and your capacity to associate and enrich yourself when you attend any such event. It’s a critical thing.

I differ from you when it comes to the American psyche. You seem to like it. I can’t take it seriously,

Sensitive Friend

The fury of the furies!

Two subjects infuriate me when I address them with you: (1) my family, (2) I and the Americans.

Yesterday, I meditated. Yes, I meditated! It sounds like I lock step with those vapourware books, doesn’t it? Well, I’ve been meditating since I was sixteen years old, a heavenly gift I discovered by myself I didn’t even know its name was “meditation”. Others call it “relaxation”. So, yesterday evening, I was meditating. When fleeting thoughts pricked through, I saw my image with me swearing and throwing objects unto you. I don’t swear, and don’t throw objects at people, but these were my fleeting thoughts. Strange way to relax or meditate!

I’m now in an excellent disposition. In future, I will avoid these subjects, though I know that from time to time you’ll try touching me with “me and the Americans”.

You seem to repeat your disdain for the American superficiality. In the same email (let’s call it “breath”) you write you envy my access to the cultural phenomena, which is here in the US, not somewhere else.

Please, please show me one country (or land) on this Earth, with a high level of quality of arts and colleges, lacking the superficiality of a large part of its population. The protagonists of this very French movie are the epitome of vacuousness, shallowness, emptiness. I never hear people, or you say “I love France, but…” (or Italy, Sweden, or Spain.). However, when it comes to the US, it’s like a knee-jerk reaction. That you allowed yourself to fall into this pit and stay there, it’s a big unsettling mystery for me. US is not my country, though I feel blessed I’ve lived here for a few years.

Wise Friend,

I held many diverse responses, all of them full of question marks and raised eyebrows. Firstly, let me know if you want me to respond (you’d have good reason both for wanting and not wanting).

Sensitive Friend,

I apologise. I can do nothing else. I’m tempted to hear what you would say, though in this case, we would return to these two subjects, I would prefer not to touch any longer. It’s not fair to you, though, I stop talking about these subjects with anybody after I sense that we debated enough.

I was in a good mood when I wrote. It’s not a good excuse.

Wise Friend,

No need to apologise, I had an almost ready response, and I’ll keep it for other more propitious times, if still current then. Therefore, I will respect the desire and the wish, with no further comment. The only lesson would be that I’ll try to avoid stepping into a subject you consider delicate.

We have plenty to write about movies, concerts, observations about other, jokes, anyway, daily life. As far as I’m concerned, I want you to know that I have no taboo subjects with those close to me, and when somebody mentions inconvenient topics (I believe you misread my message that infuriated you), if the person is somehow significant to me, I try to understand, or I try to help the person understand me. So, be my guest!
I wanted to tell you that from time to time you are very childish though this part of your charm. Keep it!

Sensitive Friend,

Childish? Did you just say that? Only I know the efforts I make to behave always like an adult.

I tell myself I’m the only one privy to those spots of mine. A tiny example, I’m aware as soon as I’m relaxed we somebody, I joke and laugh easily. Daily, I have to remind myself my age. I’m afraid of being ridiculous at my age by belaying like an adolescent, which I would actively love to do.

Wise Friend,

Until my bruises caused by you throwing those objects to me heal, I can’t say anything.

You must know what I would tell you.

I can abstain. I need to end with the slogan of the day: “Be spontaneous!”

Sensitive Friend,

It’s not a matter of taboo subjects between two of us. It’s about communicating via emails. To discuss some topics, I need to be face to face, to see each other expressions and for instant reactions.

Are your bruises yellow by now?

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.