The moment of truth

Today I am officially one year wiser. I never say older, but wiser. Like I am almost 20 years wiser than my beautiful French assistant Mademoiselle A. She asks me sometimes, as she says, for motherly advice, and we mothers are indeed not only older, but wiser than our daughters. What a frightening thought, she could physiologically be my daughter. I could be a grandmother.

I have a philosophic dilemma that keeps haunting me, and again today I reflect on it. What is worse:

Feel passionately about something, get carried away and eventually make a fool out of myself
or
Never feel passionately about anything, not get carried away and not feeling as such a fool I do at the moment.

Right now I wish I had chosen to live after the second option, but of course it is too late. I will though try again. One year wiser I must promise myself not to believe, no matter how seductive the thought is, that such a thing as soul mate exists. And for my own sake not to judge people on the chocolate they offer me.

For 20 years ago I read Herman Hesse’s Steppenwolf, the strangest experience in my life. How could Hesse write about me long before I was born, was I his muse in my earlier life ? My husband says I probably was Hesse's schizophrenic wife. Reading Steppenwolf was such an out of the body experience that I was certain I will soon be abducted by aliens. I prayed God this not to happen and in return promised never to think about this book again.

Today for some reason I think about this book very much, and God will probably punish me by letting the aliens abduct me. So dear reader, if there will be no more blogging from me, you know what happened.