MARINA OPPENHEIMER BOOKS AND BLOG

  In 2014 I suffered a severe attack of diverticulitis; I was at home working remotely when a pain in my abdomen completely paralyzed me. My first thought was that my last hour was finally there; it was with great desperation that I phoned my son who immediately alerted 911. When we arrived at Mount Sinai Hospital emergency room, Dr. A., a surgeon who spoke to me in Spanish, assisted us. The first thing he said was that a colostomy bag was necessary, which I flatly refused. Because he could see that I was extremely stressed, he agreed to wait until the next day to see if my condition improved. Mercifully it did; a colostomy bag would have generated in me a depression that would have interfered with my recovery. It was during the twelve days of my stay at the hospital that a relationship of deep respect and esteem grew between this doctor and myself. But not only with me; every time he came to see me in my room to update me on my condition, he called my son over the phone to keep hi...

  Ayer ingresé en la I95, autopista que me lleva de Miami Beach a Coral Gables, para ir a Chocolate Fashion a almorzar con mi buena amiga C. Si bien a esta altura de la vida manejar por la autopista no es mi actividad preferida, la sola idea de tener una amena charla con C. me dio ánimos. Pero lo que ignoraba era que el encuentro no sería solo con ella, sino con alguien que no olvidaría fácilmente. Al llegar y ver que C. aún no estaba, elegí una mesa para dos al lado de la ventana; desde allí, y mientras esperaba, tuve la oportunidad de estudiar el peque ñ o salón de comida. De pronto uno de los camareros me llamó poderosamente la atención; era un muchacho de unos cuarenta a ñ os, muy alto y muy delgado, y en cuyos labios asomaba una permanente y calurosa sonrisa. Lo interesante de este hombre no era que sonriera continuamente, sino el hecho de que su sonrisa fuera un gesto auténtico; en otras palabras, cuando le sonreía a algún comensal lo que le comunicaba era un caluroso mensaje...

  A few days ago, I had a strange dream, so strange that when I woke up, I told myself that it was not worth trying to decipher it because I would not succeed. The dream was as follows: I was in front of two large paintings depicting geometric figures. The difference between the two was that while the colors of the left canvas were gleaming, those on the right canvas lacked luster. I remember thinking in the dream that the second canvas had probably been washed with chlorine. But as attractive as this dream was, its images didn't communicate anything to me... that is, until I remembered a Jung saying that I had read a long time ago. " One cannot live the afternoon of life according to the program of life’s morning ,” it stated. According to Jungian thinking and without fear of being wrong, we could say that life really begins (the canvas on the left) when time is running out. But what is the reason for this paradox? The paradox is not such if we realize that it is only in the ...

 

  Otro a ñ o que se aleja de mi vida y que, al mismo tiempo, me acerca un poco más al cruce del río del olvido que a todos nos espera. Pero cuando miro hacia atrás los días vividos, siento latir dentro de mí un alma serena; la mía es un alma que ya no siente rencores ni pesadumbre, sino solo gratitud por lo recibido. Por ello, cuando la noche cierra me gusta agradecer al Universo la vida que me ha dado, ahora tranquila como agua de laguna. Es cierto que, como a todos en esta tierra, he pasado por instantes que me dejaron sin aliento y con el alma entristecida. Pero luego, al abrir los ojos a ma ñ anas esplendorosas, pude comprender que no hay bueno sin lo malo, ni malo sin lo bueno. Hoy, al cabo de recorrer tantos a ñ os de vida, me doy cuenta de que, al cumplir con las tareas que nos han encomendado, sabemos que nuestro final más que final será un andar eterno. Porque hemos venido a este mundo a mejorarlo y a ayudar con nuestro ejemplo a aquellos que lo necesitan. Y al cumplir con...