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WHEN THE FOG IS LIFTING

hope melancholy orientation May 09, 2020

Such days exist. When absolutely nothing seems to work out. 

When it‘s a major effort for me just to get the basics done and when I let my head hang low.

 

When I feel sorry for myself and toy with the idea of going back to a 9-5 full time job (knowing well that I will be unhappy with it in two years‘ time). When I have the diffuse sensation that I am stuck in my life. When my usual remedies against the blues – like a brisk walk, or a good book – do not seem to help any more.

 

On such days I feel as if I’m stuck in the fog on mount Rigi (one of the mountains surrounding Lucerne). Visibility of no more than 10 metres. Sense of balance uncomfortably disabled. Floating free in a muddy nothingness, without gravity, without orientation or control. My step is disheartened, my fantasy running wild – what if my next step leads into the abyss? What if the diffuse shadow over there turns out to be an eerie Yeti? What if the fog closes in for...

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