LIFE IS TOUGH? PRACTICE GRATITUDE

As a retired psychotherapist I am dedicated to writing books, which gives me a wonderful sense of purpose. However, the task of writing leaves me many free hours that need to be filled. So, a couple of months ago I called the Volunteer Department at Mount Sinai Hospital, which is close to my house, to offer my services. A very nice lady called me back and in less than a week I started working at the patient information desk in the main building entrance. The job is interesting because I have the opportunity to assist many people who get lost in the endless building hallways, desperately looking for their sick relatives. Moreover, not only do I feel useful by helping others reach their destination; this task also gives me the opportunity to ponder on the mysteries of human existence. As I walk the hospital hallways and run into patients being transported on their gurneys, some of them with terminal illnesses, I can’t avoid thinking about how lucky I am that, in the second half of life, I am still able to work and write and interact with friends.  So many times, when we are younger, we complain because we did not get that job or because we found out that our good friend wasn’t really that good, without knowing that those hurdles are nothing as compared to what other people are going through. Most of us have to live many years to learn to appreciate the good things life has in store for us; it is only when we lose them that we realize how precious they were. In my case, I am glad that life gave me the opportunity to realize how lucky I have been and how generous was my fate; now my only task will be to share what I know with others.

CORONAVIRUS REFLECTIONS

Unless you are very rich, being retired means living in a rut: not knowing when you are going to pass away, and as a result, not knowing how much to spend so that your savings will last. So, when a crisis starts expanding its ugly shadow, those of us who have savings in the stock market start looking right and left for advice. So, one recent evening I called a long-time friend who is very cautious with his spending habits and asked him what he would do at my place. His answer was short and sweet: “Sit tight.” My answer was also very concrete: “Unfortunately, I don’t have many years to wait for the market to go up.” After the conversation ended, I suddenly felt a deep sadness envelop my whole being; the shadow of death had suddenly become a reality. I was surprised because I always thought that I was not afraid of dying; and I wasn’t. However, the conversation with my friend made me realize that death does not only mean to lose one’s life; most importantly it means to let go of all the people we have met in this long journey. In my case, when I leave this earth I will have to let go of my school mates, with whom I spent a fantastic youth; all those people I met in my trips around the world, with whom I enjoyed beautiful landscapes and intimate talks; some very good friends, a few, that I love like brothers and sisters; partners with whom I shared meaningful itineraries; books that have taught me so many of the secrets of this mysterious existence; pets that have shared with me their unending loyalty; and the memories of those who were my teachers in this life. My son? My son is a different story because I will never leave him.

EL CORONAVIRUS Y NUESTRA VIDA

Es evidente que el Coronavirus dista de ser solamente una enfermedad física; sus ramificaciones son también mentales. Estar en casa durante tantas horas en soledad inevitablemente nos enfrenta con un sinnúmero de preguntas existenciales. Por ejemplo, ¿cómo hemos vivido los años que ya han pasado y que no tienen retorno? Cuando el número de distracciones disponibles no alcanza para saciar nuestra sed de estar siempre en otro lado, asoma su rostro huraño el inconsciente para reclamarnos aquello que negamos. Como a todos, lo mismo me ocurrió a mí una tarde gris, pero bella. Casi por arte de magia me volvieron a la memoria una serie de errores cometidos, de decisiones mal tomadas, y de relaciones mal habidas. Recuerdo un día hace varios años cuando hablando con mi entonces jefe, un psiquiatra con quien yo había establecido una relación de amistad, le dije, “Dr. D, si pudiera atrás lo haría con gusto”. La respuesta de él fue rápida y sin recovecos: “Marina, no se puede volver atrás”. Lo mío había sido sólo una manera de hablar; yo ya sabía que es imposible volver atrás. Y, sin embargo, su intervención había sido acertada ya que me empujó a reconocer que mi tarea no era la nostalgia sino el análisis honesto de cómo había vivido la vida. ¿Y cómo viví mi vida? Si un error cometí fue el creer que los que nos rodean tienen nuestra misma agenda. El mundo es lindo porque todos somos diferentes, decía mi madre con razón. Y, sin embargo, cuando nos topamos con alguien que se nos parece tenemos la sensación de haber encontrado un refugio en la noche tormentosa. Con el pasar de los años nos damos cuenta de cuán peligroso es el mundo y de cuán lejos están los demás de nosotros.  Son demasiados los pensamientos negativos, la envidia, y las propias frustraciones los que alejan a los demás de nuestro sendero; es un error creer que pueden estar al lado nuestro. Si volviera a encontrarme con el Dr. D. le diría que es cierto que no se puede volver atrás. Pero lo que sí se puede hacer es valorar el haber sido honesto, íntegro y generoso, y el haber abierto los brazos a todo el que estaba dispuesto a seguirnos.

CORONAVIRUS AND OUR LIFE

It is clear that Coronavirus is far from being only a physical illness; its ramifications are also mental. Being home for so many hours in solitude  inevitably  pits us against countless existential questions. For example, how have we lived the years that have already gone and which have no return? When the number of distractions available is not enough to quench our thirst to always be somewhere else, our unconscious starts showing its ugly face to claim what we deny. Like everyone else, the same thing happened to me on a beautiful but sad grey afternoon. Like in a dream a series of mistakes, of unsound choices, and poor relationships came back to mind. I remember one day several years ago when talking to my then boss, a psychiatrist with whom I had established a friendly relationship, and saying to him: "Dr. D, if I could go back in time I would do it gladly." His response was short and sweet: "Marina, you can't go back." Mine had just had been the need to put my pain into words. I already knew it is impossible to go back. And yet his intervention had been to the point since it underlined the fact that my task was not nostalgia but an honest analysis of how I had lived my life. And how did I live my life? If I made one mistake it was believing that those around us have our own same agenda. The world is nice because we're all different, my mother used to say. And yet when we run into someone who thinks like us, we have the feeling of having found a refuge in stormy night. As the years go by, we realize how dangerous the world is and how far away are others from us.  Their negative thoughts, their envy, and their own frustrations separate others from our path; it is a mistake to believe that they can reach us. Should I meet Dr. D. again, I would tell him that it's true that you can't go back. What can be done instead is to value having been honest, loyal and generous, and having opened our arms to everyone who was willing to follow us.