I remembered my loneliness; I felt it with a defencelessness that I had denied myself at the time. The feeling that writing was impossible; that I would never find a place in the world that felt like home; that no one except my wife would ever care about me, about the things that for me held meaning.
That last sentence gave me a brilliant shudder! We returned to live in the town where we studied over twenty years ago and recently passed through the hallways of our former university. Walking past the doors and peeking into the rooms where our former selves seemed to still linger, we had a similar experience of reflecting on how little we realized what lay ahead of us (both in trials and joys). Now you will have me reflecting on "the third chair"...
Henrik! You’ve made such a personal reflection universal. As I read along, I quickly traced a parallel path happening in my own life, which made the ending all the more powerful.
A third chair? Wow!, I thought. You mean I’ll get what I’m working so hard to achieve and then there will be more? Ok, I’m in. Back to the grind stone!
Thank you for this lovely reflection Henrik. I get a similar feeling when working with people who are earlier in their journey than I am. I can sometimes see the same actions I made earlier on, and from my vantage point I can appreciate how much I've grown.
Well, well, here’s a trick I didn’t know you had up your sleeve! So evocative, so minimalist, and yet still with your trademark depth. Nicely done Henrik!
Everything is perfect in this exquisite piece. Thank you. Tell me please about the photograph (where, what, who) which also contains love and tension, persistence, and rescue.
I have an effusive feeling when I look back at the lonely, hardworking me of the pandemic. I restled with my solitude, and it saddens me to think I'll never have it quite like that again.
(I've just reread Letters to a Young Poet so these feelings are especially heavy).
That last sentence gave me a brilliant shudder! We returned to live in the town where we studied over twenty years ago and recently passed through the hallways of our former university. Walking past the doors and peeking into the rooms where our former selves seemed to still linger, we had a similar experience of reflecting on how little we realized what lay ahead of us (both in trials and joys). Now you will have me reflecting on "the third chair"...
Henrik! You’ve made such a personal reflection universal. As I read along, I quickly traced a parallel path happening in my own life, which made the ending all the more powerful.
A third chair? Wow!, I thought. You mean I’ll get what I’m working so hard to achieve and then there will be more? Ok, I’m in. Back to the grind stone!
Thank you for this lovely reflection Henrik. I get a similar feeling when working with people who are earlier in their journey than I am. I can sometimes see the same actions I made earlier on, and from my vantage point I can appreciate how much I've grown.
This made me cry tears of gratitude for my past self. Thank you.
Well, well, here’s a trick I didn’t know you had up your sleeve! So evocative, so minimalist, and yet still with your trademark depth. Nicely done Henrik!
Everything is perfect in this exquisite piece. Thank you. Tell me please about the photograph (where, what, who) which also contains love and tension, persistence, and rescue.
That closing sentence gave me chills. Loved this piece.
This detail about opening up a library at any hour with just your social security card lit up my brain!
I have an effusive feeling when I look back at the lonely, hardworking me of the pandemic. I restled with my solitude, and it saddens me to think I'll never have it quite like that again.
(I've just reread Letters to a Young Poet so these feelings are especially heavy).
picturing/talking to future self has been very helpful. semi religious feeling.
Beautiful