Fear of pain

It’s funny how we think we have read something in a book, in a blog, something that touches us, and when we go back to read it again it’s just not there. Maybe there are some words that vaguely resemble what we remembered, but the clear idea we had in our minds is not there,…

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In Oz

What would happen if our starlight, the oracle that guides our journey turned out to be… well, fake? Somewhere over the rainbow, way up highThere’s a land that I heard of once in a lullabySomewhere over the rainbow, Skies are blue,And the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true… Over the Rainbow,…

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The smiling stars

If there was a book in my childhood that I hated with all my guts, that was The Little Prince. Time and time again, some adult would try to push it down my throat with the excuse that it was a beautiful book for children. No it wasn’t. It was obviously a book written for…

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A chasm and a bridge

But look in the mirror for the other one,the other one who walks with you Antonio Machado The original sin. A crime we did not commit and yet we have to atone for. An inherent part of ourselves as humans. The partition of our minds. A few days ago, I read a post about Jung’s…

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Inevitability

I once read that Bruckner’s symphonies might not be as beautiful as Mahler’s (?), but that they advance relentlessly, inexorably, almost unavoidably. Sometimes, it seems, against their own will. I wondered about the music I like and I realised that all my favourite songs and pieces have something in common: an underlying sense of inevitability.…

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As we ride towards the sunset

As we ride towards the sunset, I ask myself whether the end will ever come, whether the sunset is a place, a real place. An end to the rainbow. A place to rest, to die.  This thought makes me stop. The others look back at me, no words. I am not ready, I say. Ed…

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The Spinning Top

After reading Jung’s book on Dreams, I now tend to see all the characters in my dreams as part of me. Even if they look different, played by different “actors”, they are all me. Little parts of me who, together, constitute the whole of me. I had this same feeling when I read Demian (Hesse)…

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Trailing behind

Trailing behind. Trailing behind. Trailing behind… but do I actually want to keep the pace? A few years ago, I felt as I had fallen off the train. My train. I still have the mental image in my mind: a meadow with short grass, the empty rails, the sunset, silence. Nothing. I just looked at…

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