Life has once again eaten me twenty-four hours. This morning, I was more nervous than usual, realizing that financial transactions were taking time, that I had forgotten to file a return with the Grand Ministère du Revenu (my taxes to be refunded as a self-employed worker). I will have a penalty, the government does not hesitate to bill you to the second you are late, it is worse than any loan shark.
Life has still eaten me for a few more hours, or rather, I still have a full stomach from the day before. I wonder if we are getting to everything digested nowadays; if we didn’t have a large belly that takes its time and randomly regurgitates dreams at night, nightmares during the day. There are days when we would prefer not to experience waking up while, for others, the night seems endless.
Our secret lives, our images, our wealth, we have difficulty in conceiving them, in apprehending them. These days, I am publishing a book on neurolinguistic programming (NLP), written by a lady, a motivator as we know many of them. She seems sincere to me, but what she says is sometimes trivial, that we have to continually convince ourselves that it will be fine, that our thinking can do everything, or distorts everything (it’s the same thing), that our negative thoughts can lead us to cancer (it’s not just her to say it, some doctors are starting to say it when the former shamans were already quite convinced of it).
I am sure that we too are masters of our own destiny, even if it escapes us most of the time. Live your life to the fullest? Big deal. Aren’t we the first to tell us to keep quiet? To convince us that our passions will pass?