The Hyggelig Journey

I've attempted to discover a quick way to deal with confrontational scenarios by interpolating empathy with courteous demeanour. While it didn’t interrupt confrontations, nor made them avoidable, it seems that begging to disagree can work, so long as you’ve have first learnt to mirror what is being talked in a different point of view. I like to call those exercises tools for mutual understanding. It took me a while to understand that it is natural for some people to showcase colourful disagreement only to capture a topic by exhaustion. Funnily enough, no words can interpret with precision what a subject matter can bring to a vulnerable person. I say vulnerable not to explicate people who eventually become vulnerable, oh no. We are all vulnerable to small stressors, too many of them, too many times. Triggers, say, of how much sentiment you will drill in a matter of seconds. More than that, it is a delusion to ignore them. That’s righteous okay, I need to add. Subjectivity is always ...

Sleep refuses to come. I lie there, staring at the empty ceiling, darkness pressing in from all sides. It’s not fear, nor pain — just this relentless wakefulness, as if the night were a place without an exit. My weary body pleads for rest, but my mind — ever unfaithful — drifts where it shouldn’t. I count the minutes like someone stacking silences. Outside, everything sleeps — the dogs, the streetlights, the windows — but I remain, a solitary witness to time standing still. They’ve given me explanations: hormones, habits, internal clocks gone awry. But it isn’t just chemistry. It’s something deeper — a strange misalignment between body and soul, as if one were ready to surrender while the other, hesitant, lingers just a little longer. Acupuncture is a way of whispering to the body: remember? Remember what it was like to sleep? To let darkness be a refuge, not a labyrinth? The finest needles, barely a touch, and something shifts — a knot unravels. The heart slows, the breath...

Sometimes one cannot just let it go. While I can understand why a patient would like to give up, if he is willing to put himself walking inside the hospital, I must comprehend he wants to keep fighting. Tons of medicines, exhaustive hours later and nothing has changed but a frightened soul. Walking in, walking out of his room, the pace seems unfair and unreliable; but then again, the patient remains fighting. Never truly could understand how it happens, whether that is due to faith, love, or some sort of primal instinct, but people fight for their survival more frequently than we can bare to imagine in their shoes. It is too easier and human to surrender, I guess, but it is so surprisingly godly to battle one cell’s battle. Maybe that is what makes us more human: our will, I am not sure. I watch this all, so erratic and alone in my own thoughts, slightly resilient than the day before on my attempts at understanding this effort. I wish I could say for sure to all of them “it will be alr...

I do not get lachrymose so often. Med school taught me to be as gentle as possible, whilst cold enough to not fall apart when someone dies. Still, what people see is not what happens inside my mind. I fight the good fight, the one against bad habits and instincts. Sometimes, I fail miserably. Sometimes, I win myself for another day. Recently I started to improve my acupuncturist skills at a fast pace, learning new methods once I thought nontangible; trying is part of the good fight that keeps me onward. I even bought a book in Italian that, like a collegian often does, I need to read with the aid of a dictionary. It is hard, it is challenging, but it is uplifting. That is how I cope with my own insanity. I study, I pray, I cry… but nobody else will notice, not because I am shy, which I am, but because I’ve been learning to cry from the inside. I am not a sad person. I am not exactly happy either. I am a student; that is how I see my journey on this planet. I do hate when I cannot help ...

People often misunderstand happiness, even though we all seem to seek for it actively. The thing is, happiness isn't something you can seek entirely by yourself, alone. No, it is rather a goal only achieved when shared, fulfilled and portioned by those with whom you live. Granted, we all are subjects to fragments of joy every once in a while, and as subtle as those moments of prosperity and caring can be, they are deeply imprinted in your mind. We may not even realise immediately, but we, in many instances, revisit those moments for strength, enlightenment, endurance. The misunderstanding happens when your joy relies exclusively on your wealth, status, and possessions. Thereby, you may be giving into what your instincts want, instead of what your heart seeks. Spurts of opportunities to achieve happiness are repeatedly lost when our pocket overrules our most intimate sense of gratitude, and when greed makes us forget those who have carried us along the path. Whether, whilst you smil...