Wednesday, February 15, 2017

Life Coach

Life and Life Coach

"Life coach" is "nombre de rigueur" nowadays. Words such as "shrink", "psychotherapist", "psychologist", and "psychiatrist" are falling out of favor, especially among those who are not necessarily  sick and dysfunctional, but into high competition and looking for a thin-razor edge in mental toughness. These modern-day gladiators, financial or otherwise, know in their arenas of rarefied competition, Mind Control is of paramount importance. 

I decided to reread an article about a financial gladiator who credited his life coach for saving his life and putting him on a winning streak ever since, after coming across a book review about Saki of whom  the critic V. S. Pritchett said: “Saki writes like an enemy. Society has bored him to the point of murder. Our laughter is only a note or two short of a scream of fear.”

These three sentences jolted me out of a spiritual slumber. They energized me. They reminded me of what I had written to a friend:

"Your missive was on target. I forced me to respond  with the words: 

Lost love is lost love. Being fake or real doesn't make it any more or less lost. However, strictly speaking, no love is lost. Love, once experienced, changed us. We would never be the same afterwards. 

During the cruise  on The Allure of the Seas and the stop-over in Barcelona, I noticed that you are lucky to be loved by a caring and capable spouse. A lot of men would love being in your shoes. 

I'm a lucky man, too. More than 30 years ago, a woman agreed to be with me, knowing fully well of my impractical thinking and  predisposition to chaos. She has stayed with me despite the dislocations and disturbances in my life. A lesser woman would have walked out on me a long time ago. Our union has produced an offspring who is reasonably intelligent, well-read, and financially self-sufficient. I cannot ask for more."

Back to the three sentences of Pritchett, I would like to modify them as follows to suit my personal circumstances: 

"He lives like an enemy of his. Meanwhile, several scumbags have angered him to a point of fantasizing homicide. He is long past of thinking of killing himself. Those days are days of Stupidity and Sufferings. Now, it's the time to inflict, not to undergo, sufferings. His laughter is only a note or two short of Sneer, a barely contained flicker of Anger."

(To be continued) 

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