about grrrr

We’ve been ill. The low energy that goes together with illness led to turning on the tv a few evenings ago. All in all, maybe 30 minutes to an hour of tv over about four days of proper stay-at-home illness, so still pretty reasonable. Irrelevant. The particular evening I’m talking about, there was this piece of a cheap Hollywood movie in which the slightly stuck-up, conventional American woman discovers – in Paris, of course – that life is made of less black-and-white and more shades of everything. As an ad-hoc life coach to trigger this revelation (I assume the revelation takes place based on the predictability of the plot, we gave up after perhaps 10 minutes), lovely Jacqueline Bisset impersonating a luxury `madame` (in the less than high-brow sense of the term). Irrelevant movie, plot, tv-bit of the evening. However, relevant in the same way pieces of poetry are constantly just the ones I am meant to hear at that particular moment, was the following `let me analyse you` observation: `I look at you and I wonder where that little girl who used to run free with her hair waving in the wind disappeared`. And my blood boiled with… I don’t even know what.

Because I thought I was very much aware of the fact that there are only a handful of personalities and of twists of fate and there is only a limited amount of imagination to go around in people – hence horoscopes. I thought I had made perfect peace with the feeling that none of us is special, in any way. That free will is more than limited. That we live in oh so many predetermined ways. That one could never expect a paid professional who is meant to guide you through personal dilemmas to actually take the time to feel `you`, but that, instead, what you can expect is a sketchy rendering of alternative paths that people generally take. And yet, having at some point been personally served the standard sentence above and having bought it, idiotically, ridiculously, in good faith, as meaning `you see me`, while it was plain as day that it only meant `I see the box you belong in` made me furious. And it made me feel manipulated. And, in the end, silly as hell. And justified in my original mistrust. The more so because I already had little doubt that I had paid money to be judged, not to be helped. Whereas, should one need to feel judged, that can be obtained soooo easily for free 🙂 .


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