I have never, never trusted doctors. It is not because my current medical support team is unskillful or uncaring. Of course, earlier white-coated cohorts, still standing out in memory, were deficient by comparison, but that’s not the heart of the mistrust.

The other day, I could not find my coat . . .

If anyone wants to control us, whether we’re women or men, short of violence the quickest way to get hold of us is by the guilt we carry. If we don’t want to fall prey to the controllers, we must do something about our guilt. But what?

Playfulness is a mode of living that always seemed to me stupendously desirable – almost the acme of experience! But if we want to know what it is, that’s rather hard to pin down.

Clearly, "when you’re hot, you’re hot and when you’re not, you’re not",  but coincidences don’t always foster a good outcome or discourage a bad one.

Courage, Plato said, is knowing what ought to scare you, and what ought not to.

Let’s suppose for a moment that we live many lives, as different personalities in a variety of circumstances. The TV documentaries on reincarnation, and the past life regressions available online, allow us to meet individuals who seem to have recovered far memories.  These can include data not previously known to them but subsequently confirmed by means of old maps, birth records, tombstones, diaries and letters.  Such evidences have also been authenticated in a more systematic way by credentialed researchers. Is all of it just bunk?

I’ll venture a definition: a busybody whose interest and advice is not really well-intentioned, though it purports to be.

Whenever I really had fun, I hadn’t sought it and never called it that.  What times am I thinking of?

If the current era were to gain a label, it might be called “The Age of Ambiguity.” Whether in self-praise or regret, there is wide agreement that nothing is clearly X or not-X.  Rather, everything is a bit of both.  Black and white is out.  Grey is in.