I present three sources of knowledge: books, people and songs.

From books we learn that imagination is surpassed by reality, that theory is surpassed by practice, that feeling surpasses thought and passion surpasses sweet tranquility.

People, with their actions, teach us that they are not as bad as they seem or as good as they say they are. People take you through intricate tunnels with the promise “know me” and there is no other choice but to fall asleep at the last door with a sign on it that says: “Beware, danger zone.” People give lessons in patience. It is necessary to see, hear and be silent. Being silent is so difficult but you learn over time. Not for lack of spontaneity but for caution.

I have known few spontaneous people. Is it true that the maximum expression of spontaneity is aggressiveness? Sincerity is an untimely aggression, a double-edged sword, sincere people are called “conflictive.” They will be branded that way unless they learn to speak truths with a sweet expression, or say them as if they were a joke. Deep down, people admire the sincere — and even envy them.

Keeping quiet as everyone usually does is very easy, while telling simple truths — apparently — is difficult. Very few people like to go against the grain, since not everyone can face the possibility of rejection…

People with fear of confrontation, of unleashing possible controversies, of not having the same opinion of the group in which they operate, of being criticised — they seem so peculiar to me. Any of these could cause isolation — and I think you have to know how to be alone. It is one thing to be isolated and another thing — which must be sad — to go unnoticed. Without leaving a trace, to spend your life like a chair placed in a corner.

Songs, the third source, teach us about love. They are the Bible of love. There is a type of song known as “classic boleros” that illustrate previous romantic generations, featuring individuals who fell in love and thus sang: to love, to women, to beauty. They were songs that showed everything that a man or a woman was capable of doing in order to have the loved one by their side. Sex was talked about, but indirectly, not in the way it is talked about now, shamelessly, almost insolently.

The aura of mystery has been lost, blurred…

Psychiatrist & Writer — Writing and meditating at the intersection of psychiatry, philosophy, Buddhism and the arts. More information at www.lidaprypchan.com

Psychiatrist & Writer — Writing and meditating at the intersection of psychiatry, philosophy, Buddhism and the arts. More information at www.lidaprypchan.com