The Hyggelig Journey

The brilliance of children has always intrigued me. Quick, perceptive — they move through the clinic with an ease that even my own shadow cannot match. They take in every detail, every corner, as if the space were an extension of themselves. And yet, for all their boundless energy, they surrender to treatment with an openness that never ceases to amaze me. They feel the shift in their very skin, in the deep, unspoken language of the body. They arrive unsettled, their small frames weighed down by a world too vast, too demanding. Some are anxious, others irritable, their nervous systems frayed by stimuli too great to bear. But as the treatment unfolds, something changes. Their tension eases, their breath deepens. By the time they rise from the table, they are transformed — lighter, brighter, as if an invisible burden has been lifted. They leave with a spring in their step, their feet barely touching the ground, as if walking on air. Their parents — ah, the parents — watch i...

Life weighs, yet it does not. It slips through your fingers like water, and just when you think you have grasped it, you find you were holding only the wind. There is no fixed form, no final certainty — only desire, thrumming beneath the skin, always just beyond reach, dissolving the moment you try to name it. You wanted meaning — something solid, something to anchor yourself to, something you could hold without fear of losing. A truth that would not shift with time, would not vanish under scrutiny. But the truth — and it was truth because it hurt — is that life is too light to be held. It is insubstantial, elusive, impossible to contain. And it is this lightness that unsettles you. If everything is possibility, where do you stand? If you are free, then who are you? Freud would say you desire what you cannot have. Jung would remind you of the shadows you refuse to face. Lacan would laugh and tell you that you are nothing but lack, a hollow space forever seeking fulfilment. ...