LA MUERTE DE UN SUEŇO

¿Qué es la muerte de un sueño?

Es el constatar que hemos tomado el rumbo equivocado,

es el extraviarse en una noche que no termina,

es el retumbar de un lamento que no se acaba.

La muerte de un sueño es estar solos y en silencio

allí donde retumba la tormenta que se avecina,

es el saber que no hay refugios donde pasar el día.  

La muerte de un sueño es no dejar de preguntarse

qué fue de aquel sentimiento liviano como el agua,

aquel amor que tenía un sabor a madrugada.

La muerte de un sueño es como el vuelo de un ave,

que sobrevuela la ciudad dormida, y luego parte porque sabe

que cuando el sueño muere hay que dejar que se apague.

CORONAVIRUS AND OUR NEED FOR MEANING

The corona virus did not only throw the world into a severe medical situation; it also dragged along desperation in hundreds of people’s lives as well as impotence in those who witnessed the destruction and couldn’t do anything to stop it. A friend of mine compared the current world situation to that of a war where our enemy is invisible and unknown. For those of us lucky enough to be able to stay home and just fight loneliness, what to do with our days is our only concern. I for one went back to the books I have written, edited some of them, updated others, and finally opted for a new cover for the rest. For some reason, starting a new book was difficult because I lacked the motivation that always comes to me from what I see in the world around me. As a result, after several weeks of solitary confinement, I decided that I needed to find a new task to lighten up my days. So, I decided to buy a rose bush to place in my balcony; it was something to take care of. The day I went to the plant nursery the weather was exquisite; the days were sunny and the temperature was exactly right. I said to myself that with no wind blowing, the rose bush would do great in its new environment. I knew well that the splendid weather would not last forever; but I said to myself that when a storm would start brewing on the ocean, I always had the option to carry the bush inside. Not a week had passed after my purchase that one night I woke up at three of clock in the morning to the sound of thunder and lightning. I got up and hurried to the balcony to bring the rose bush inside; most of its leaves had fallen and flown away towards the water. Fortunately, the branches were not broken. Then when the storm subsided, I decided that I would leave the rose bush inside, despite the fact that without the sunlight it would probably never bloom. I said to myself that the bush was so beautiful that it would be enough to brighten my days even without roses. Days came and went in the silent solitude of my home, until one morning I woke up earlier than usual. A delicious surprise awaited me near the window. The rose bush had bloomed and its rose was one of the most beautiful flowers I had ever seen. It was born from the plant’s will to carry out its particular task. It was then that I thought that, perhaps, if I looked deep down my soul, I too would find the flower that hides the task of my life.

tagTag PhotopinAdd LocationpencilEdit

CARTA A UN COMPAŇERO DEL COLEGIO

Salut Michel:

¿Cómo estás? Hace tiempo que no recibo tus noticias. O quizás el estar recluida en mi casa por la pandemia me hace necesitar más de las voces amigas, especialmente las de mi infancia y adolescencia. Por alguna razón el encierro evoca el pasado, aquel en donde todos éramos como una gran familia en la que nos sentíamos protegidos. En esa época el mundo era diferente y salvo la preocupación por tener buenas notas, el universo en el que nos movíamos era casi transparente. Es cierto que en algunas ocasiones aparecía alguna nube en el horizonte; pero con un llamado telefónico todo volvía a su lugar. Pero hoy al mirar la foto de fin de año del colegio me doy cuenta de que hace mucho tiempo que ese mundo dejó de existir. El aislamiento y la soledad de este momento que nos toca vivir son los que traen estos recuerdos a la mente, como muchos otros. En las paredes blancas de nuestro hogar volvemos a leer la historia de nuestra vida en sus ínfimos detalles, los buenos y los otros. Y al recordar esas vivencias no podemos dejar de preguntarnos por qué tomamos un rumbo y no otro, o por qué al ver que ese camino no llevaba a ningún lado seguíamos andando. Es cierto que también se nos aparecen los momentos felices, aquellos cuando tocábamos el cielo con las manos, aunque fuera por un rato . ¡Qué breve es la vida y cuántos laberintos la conforman! ¿Será que nos quiere enseñar a ser más sabios y más cautos? ¿Será por eso que los grandes hombres de la historia se van al desierto a comprender el significado de todo esto? A veces cuándo mi hijo me pregunta si estoy bien, por alguna razón se me llenan los ojos de lágrimas y tengo que hacer un esfuerzo para reprimir un sollozo. Luego me digo que la soledad que estamos padeciendo no es más que una revisión de los días ya vividos, y un proyectar los días que todavía nos faltan. ¿Y los errores pasados? Quizás hayan sido necesarios para poder comprender de dónde venimos y hacia dónde vamos. Cada uno de esos desaciertos es un escalón hacia la vida que nos espera. Ojalá que los días que están por venir sean los más preciados de nuestra vida.
Y con esta reflexión te dejo por ahora, deseando volver a verte cuando la vida vuelva a ser la que era… o parecida.
Bisou,
Marina

MOTHERS' PATH TO INDIVIDUATION

Mother’s Day… The celebration of the most profound relationship among human beings: the one between mother and son. According to Freud, during the phallic stage of development (ages 3-6) young boys develop the Oedipus complex towards their mother; in other words, they start feeling unconscious sexual desires for her. Freud introduced this concept in his Interpretation of Dreams (1899) and coined the expression in his A Special Type of Choice of Object made by Men (1910). Taking into consideration that the mother carries her son in her womb for nine months and that both have different sex, it is not surprising that this kind of relationship will develop. When a woman becomes a mother, by and general she is more devoted to her child than to her partner. Her level of libido also decreases markedly. In a way, her partner becomes the second best and this situation usually generates a fairly amount of stress in the couple. Generally the partner will feel intense jealousy of the son because the mother pays more attention to her child than to him. In cases where the father compares his own mother to his wife in unfavorable terms, the jealousy is even deeper. As times goes by and the son becomes older, the mother faces the difficult task of individuating from him; in most cases this is easier said than done. When families are still intact, the separation journey of the mother will be difficult but not overly harsh. However, when mothers are divorced or widowed and have no partner, the letting go of a son can be one of the most difficult life tasks they will face. Nonetheless, in order for the son to start his own life journey, this separation needs to take place. Narcissistic mothers who treat their sons as extensions of themselves, and insist by whatever means that their child’s role is to replace the husband who is no longer there, are interfering with the sons' transition towards adulthood. Furthermore, they risk generating in their sons a deep feeling of resentment for not respecting their need to grow. As soon as the son becomes a responsible adult, the mother’s task is to facilitate his entering the stage of intimacy with another woman who will replace her. If this is done correctly, the son, the wife and the mother-in-law will all enjoy a relationship that is in tune with the Tao.

 

 

 

THE SECRET OF SERENITY: IT IS WHAT IT IS

 

 I still remember the first time I heard one of my colleagues say: “It is what it is” when asked how he had finally convinced one of his patients to let go of a relationship that was no longer there. At that time, I was still a young therapist not very skilled at that kind of direct interventions; in my fear of losing patients, I was always walking on eggshells. Later, when I became more seasoned and more secure, I would try my hand at being less pleasing; gradually I became more realistic and was able to understand that, by and general, patients are able to face their fate. After so many books read on the philosophy of life, I clearly understood that there is only one way to walk the path of life with serenity: to accept that it is what it is. This paradigm is valid for all walks of life: our affections, our profession, our family of origin, and our children. This is not to say that we should blindly accept what is presented to us without even trying to change what can be changed; the thing to remember is that the changes are on us, not on reality. Let’s recall that wise saying by Spanish philosopher Ortega y Gasset:  we are us and our circumstance; in other words, the reality that is thrown at us can never be ignored. Although this is easy to say and to accept when it happens to somebody else; it is much more complex to grasp when it suddenly appears on the threshold of our life. It is then that we need to remember that life events are linked by mysterious and difficult to understand causes and effects. However, when we accept what is, suddenly everything becomes clear and there is no more room for anxiety or fear. We have understood that the universe is in charge.  

THE BEREAVEMENT PROCESS