Alkene to alkane: addition/reduction
Alkene to poly(alkene): polymerisation
Alkene to haloalkane: electrophilic addition
Alkene to dihaloalkane: electrophilic addition
Alkane to haloalkane: free radical substitution
Alcohol to alkene: elimination, dehydration
Alcohol to haloalkane: substitution
Haloalkane to alcohol: nucleophilic substitution
Primary alcohol to aldehyde: partial oxidation
Aldehyde to alcohol: reduction
Secondary alcohol to ketone: oxidation
Ketone to alcohol: reduction
Alcohol to ester: esterification
Haloalkane to nitrile: nucleophilic substitution
Haloalkane to amine: nucleophilic substitution
Nitrile to amine: reduction
Amine to 2* amine: nucleophilic substitution
Amine to 3* amine: nucleophilic substitution
Amine to secondary amide: nucleophilic addition/elimination
Nitrile to carboxylic acid: acid hydrolysis
Aldehyde to hydroxynitrile: nucleophilic addition
Ketone to hydroxynitrile: nucleophilic addition
Aldehyde to carboxylic acid: oxidation
Carboxylic acid to ester: esterification
This place reeks of death, there's a chill in the air. And I barely escaped being killed by a hair. "Great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends." Sorry to disappoint, that is now where this ends. I'm hungry for freedom like never before. The constraints of my deal surely have a backdoor. Once I figure out how to unclip my wings. Guess who will be pulling all the strings?
Growing up, I thought salt belonged in a shaker at the table, and nowhere else. I never added it to food, or saw Maman add it. When my aunt Ziba sprinkled it onto her saffron rice at the table each night, my brothers and I giggled. We thought it was the strangest, funniest thing in the world.
Growing up, I thought salt belonged in a shaker at the table, and nowhere else. I never added it to food, or saw Maman add it. When my aunt Ziba sprinkled it onto her saffron rice at the table each night, my brothers and I giggled. We thought it was the strangest, funniest thing in the world. I associated salt with the beach, where I spent my childhood seasoned with it.
VISTO el Expediente N° EX-2024-10814790-APN-SSS#MS, las Leyes Nros. 23.660, 23.661 y 26.682, los Decretos Nros. 9 del 7 de enero de 1993, 576 del 1° de abril de 1993, 504 del 12 de mayo de 1998, 1400 del 4 de noviembre de 2001, 1993 del 30 de noviembre de 2011 y 70 del 20 de diciembre de 2023 y sus respectivas normas modificatorias, y CONSIDERANDO: Que las Leyes Nros. 23.660 y 23.661 establecen el régimen de las Obras Sociales y otras entidades de salud y del Sistema Nacional del Seguro de Salud, respectivamente, regulando su inscripción, funcionamiento, financiamiento y contralor.
Que, al mismo tiempo, por el artículo 19 bis -incorporado a la Ley N° 23.660 por el referido Decreto N° 70/23- se dispuso que cuando las entidades reciban aportes adicionales a los de la suma de la contribución y los aportes que prevén los incisos a) y b) del artículo 16 de la referida ley deberán depositar el VEINTE POR CIENTO (20 %) al Fondo Solidario de Redistribución.
“ARTÍCULO 3°.- Las entidades inscriptas en el Registro del artículo 6° de la Ley N° 23.660 deberán cubrir, como mínimo, en sus planes de cobertura médico asistencial el Programa Médico Obligatorio vigente según la pertinente Resolución del MINISTERIO DE SALUD de la Nación y el “Sistema de Prestaciones Básicas en habilitación y rehabilitación integral a favor de las Personas con Discapacidad” previsto en la Ley N° 24.901 y sus modificatorias.
“ARTÍCULO 13.- Las personas que, de acuerdo con lo establecido en el artículo 12 de la Ley N° 23.660, se designen para dirigir y administrar entidades inscriptas en el Registro indicado en el artículo 6° de la ley, con excepción de las incluidas en el inciso i) del artículo 1° de la Ley N° 23.660, deberán suministrar a la autoridad de aplicación la siguiente documentación:
El VEINTE POR CIENTO (20 %) de dichos valores destinado al Fondo Solidario de Redistribución deberá ser integrado a través del procedimiento que al efecto establezcan la SUPERINTENDENCIA DE SERVICIOS DE SALUD y la ADMINISTRACIÓN FEDERAL DE INGRESOS PÚBLICOS de manera conjunta”.
“ARTÍCULO 2°.- Los Agentes del Seguro deberán garantizar a sus beneficiarios, como mínimo, la cobertura básica obligatoria establecida en el Programa Médico Obligatorio vigente según la pertinente Resolución del MINISTERIO DE SALUD y en el “Sistema de Prestaciones Básicas en habilitación y rehabilitación integral a favor de las Personas con Discapacidad” previsto en la Ley N° 24.901 y sus modificatorias.
ARTÍCULO 26.- La SUPERINTENDENCIA DE SERVICIOS DE SALUD será la autoridad de aplicación de las Leyes N° 23.660, N° 23.661 y N° 26.682 y de su normativa reglamentaria y complementaria.
ARTÍCULO 27.- Deróganse los artículos 5°, 8°, 11, 14 y 27, inciso 3°) del Anexo I del Decreto N° 576/93 y sus modificatorios; los artículos 10, 14 y 28 del Anexo II del Decreto N° 576/93 y sus modificatorios y los artículos 6°, 18, 19, 25 y 27 del Anexo del Decreto N° 1993/11 y sus modificatorios.
1 Who has believed our report? And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
2 For He shall grow up before Him as a tender plant, And as a root out of dry ground. He has no form or comeliness; And when we see Him, There is no beauty that we should desire Him.
3 He is despised and rejected by men, A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him; He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.
4 Surely He has borne our griefs And carried our sorrows; Yet we esteemed Him stricken, Smitten by God, and afflicted.
5 But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes we are healed.
6 All we like sheep have gone astray; We have turned, every one, to his own way; And the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.
He who walks with the wise shall be wise
The path of the just s as a shinning sun that shines brighter and brighter unto a perfect day.
Test and see the goodness of God.
The Lord is my shepherd i shall not want.
God gives more grace to the humble..
my name is raj
Ślachetne zdrowie,
Nikt się nie dowie,
Jako smakujesz,
Aż się zepsujesz.
Tam człowiek prawie
Widzi na jawie
I sam to powie,
Że nic nad zdrowie
Ani lepszego,
Ani droższego;
Bo dobre mienie,
Perły, kamienie,
Także wiek młody
I dar urody,
Mieśca wysokie,
Władze szerokie Dobre są, ale -
Gdy zdrowie w cale.
Gdzie nie masz siły,
I świat niemiły.
Klinocie drogi,
Mój dom ubogi
Oddany tobie
Ulubuj sobie!
The Industrial Revolution started in the mid-18th century and it brought about great changes in Europe. Among all European nations, Britain was the first to start the Industrial Revolution. The reasons are analyzed as follows.
To start with, Britain was rich in natural resources, such as coal and iron. In addition, in the early 18th century, Britain had many overseas colonies. They provided cheap raw materials and overseas markets for Britain's industries.
Moreover, it was the result of the Enclosure Movement. Owing to this , many British farmers lost their farmlands. They moved to cities and worked in factories. They became the major labour face of Britain's industrialization.
Lastly, the British government supported technological innovations. In 1623, the British government passed a patent law to protect the right of inventors. It also sponsored the Royal Society to carry out scientific experiments . Scientific and technological progress was thus relatively rapid in Britain.
In conclusion, Britain enjoyed some special advantages of its own that made it the first nation to start the Industrial Revolution.
The Industrial Revolution started in the mid-18th century and it brought about great changes in Europe. Among all European nations, Britain was the first to start the Industrial Revolution. The reasons are analyzed as follows.
To start with, Britain was rich in natural resources, such as coal and iron. In addition, in the early 18th century, Britain had many overseas colonies. They provided cheap raw materials and overseas markets for Britain's industries.
Moreover, it was the result of the Enclosure Movement. Owing to this , many British farmers lost their framlands. They moved to cities and worked in factories. They became the major labour face of Britain's industrialization.
Lastly, the British government supported technological innovations. In 1623, the British government passed a patent law to protect the right of inventors. It also sponsored the Royal Society to carry out scientific experiments . Scientific and technological progress was thus relatively rapid in Britain.
In conclusion, Britain enjoyed some special advantages of its own that made it the first nation to start the Industrial Revolution.
The Industrial Revolution started in the mid-18th century and it brought about great changes in Europe. Among all European nations, Britain was the first to start the Industrial Revolution. The reasons are analyzed as follows.
To start with, Britain was rich in natural resources, such as coal and iron. In addition, in the early 18th century, Britain had many overseas colonies. They provided cheap raw materials and overseas markets for Britain's industries.
Moreover, it was the result of the Enclosure Movement. Owing to this , many British farmers lost their framlands. They moved to cities and worked in factories. They became the major labour face of Britain's industrialization.
Lastly, the British government supported technological innovations. In 1623, the British government passed a patent law to protect the right of inventors. It also sponsored the Royal Society to carry out scientific experiments . Scientific and technological progress was thus relatively rapid in Britain.
In conclusion, Britain enjoyed some special advantages of its own that made it the first nationto start the Industrial Revolution.
The goddess of death mist, misery, sadness and poisons, Achlys was not recorded as ever being worshipped in Ancient Greece.
She was described by Hesiod in The Shield of Heracles:“And beside the (the Keres and the Fates) was standing Akhlys, dismal and dejected, green and pale, dirty-dry, fallen in on herself with hunger, knee-swollen, and the nails were grown long on her hands, and from her nostrils the drip kept running, and off her cheeks the blood dribbled to the ground, and she stood there, grinning forever, and the dust that had gathered and lay in heaps on her shoulders was muddy with tears.”
According to Nonnus' Dionysiaca: “[Hera] procured from Thessalian Achlys treacherous flowers of the field, and shed a sleep of enchantment over their heads; she distilled poisoned drugs over their hair, she smeared a subtle magical ointment over their faces, and changed their earlier human shape.”
Achlys is an unpleasant figure in all descriptions, which is unsurprising for a goddess known to represent sadness. According to Hesiod, she was pictured on the shield of Heracles. Hesiod’s poem describes the shield in detail. It features Fear and Strife with many figures from the Greek pantheon, such as Zeus and Ares. Achlys appears alongside the Keres as a starving, dusty, weeping woman. Blood covers her pale cheeks, and she grins painfully even as the tears drip off of her nose.
In addition to being the spirit of misery and sadness, Achlys may have been the goddess of deadly poisons. Another ancient writer, Nonnus, recounts how Hera (the Olympian queen of the gods) went to Achlys for poisonous flowers that turned the nurses of Dionysus into horned centaurs.
Die Before You Die
In therapy and life, we face two deaths: the death of our bodies and the death of our illusions. To live into the truth, we must “die before we die.” That is, we must experience the death of our denial and the stripping away of our facades, the images we have asked others to admire and reinforce.
Then the therapist and patient hold the funeral for the false self—the image we held of ourselves and asked others to hold as well. As we grieve the death of our self-image, our denial dissolves and our illusions evaporate. Then we begin to know who we really are, who we have always been underneath the lies.
Love and Death
For love to walk into our hearts, we must stop hiding behind facades. We are meant to live in the truth, yet we remain imprisoned by our self-image. How can anyone ever love us if they meet our facades instead?
The so-called “me” or identity is an image we present, an image we feed, and an image we ask others to feed as well. Junkies, hooked to our IV of self-esteem, we hope others will offer us pity or praise. Otherwise, they will see who we are. And when they do, the catastrophe occurs: our falsehoods, self-images, and identities dissolve.
Letting go of a cherished identity can be painful. An architect entered my office after her staff sued her for offensive and racist behavior. Outraged, she believed they were persecuting her. Her husband tried to calm her down, reminding her of times when her exchanges with staff had been too forceful, even caustic. She berated him.
“I notice you had a reaction to your husband’s comment,” I said.
She snapped, “Yes, he is against me too.”
“What’s the evidence for that?”
“He keeps taking their side.”
“He wondered if your comments were too forceful. Were they, in your opinion?”
“Yes, but they deserved it.”
“Okay. If your comments were too forceful, is he against you or this habit of forceful comments?”
“Oh.”
“You’re right: this habit is against you. Since your husband is not at the office, are your comments hurting you more than he is?”
“Are you saying I’m a hostile bitch?”
“No. I’m wondering if those comments are hostile to you, if they sabotage your wish to succeed.”
“I guess you’re right, but I feel like you are judging me.”
“It’s as if you are in the presence of a person who invites you to reveal yourself so he can misuse what you say to judge and condemn you.”
“It feels that way.”
“This image of a judge comes between us, and then you are with a judge instead of me.” When she relaxed in the chair I continued, “People who are afraid I will judge them often suffer from too much self-criticism. Do you suffer from too much self-criticism?”
“Yes, I have been hating myself ever since I learned about the lawsuit.”
“Would you like me to help you overcome that pattern of self-criticism so you can handle these problems from a position of calm instead of a position of fear?”
She longed for admiration, but her underlying insecurity led her to criticize others just as she criticized herself. As these attacks escalated, her reviews dropped, and her self-attacks increased, renewing the cycle until the lawsuit was the final blow to her self-esteem. She needed to bear the death of her self-image, the “perfect” woman, face her behavior, and accept the consequences. Instead, she raged that her husband and her firm did not support her.
They supported her but not her lie: the facade of the perfect woman. When we lose our self-image, we try to restore it and ask others to do the same. We lie to ourselves and ask others to lie, but life swirls around us, oblivious to our denial, beliefs, and outrage.
Her husband tried to stop her professional suicide: this was his act of love. Yet for his love to walk into her heart, she had to let go of her self-image of perfection. To see herself, she had to stop denying the facts. Rather than accept ourselves, however, we cling to our self-image, no longer open to this moment, the gift life has sent.
The architect later asked me, “Do I have to accept what you and they are saying?”
“No. You can reject what we say and see if that works. You do not need to move toward or away from reality because we are surrounded by it. All you need is to see the facts without rejecting them, manipulating them, or trying to fit them into your favorite opinions.”
Communion with the truth changes us. Answers that worked in the past with other people are not the answers for today. We must let go of old answers to experience what we are avoiding.
As the architect listened to her husband, her staff, and herself, she accepted that she was not the image she pretended to be. Crying one day after recognizing her verbal cruelty, she shed her righteous indignation and felt her guilt instead, uniting with her humanity. “I thought I was better than that,” she said.
When we embrace our pain, we experience therapy as a kind of subtraction where we let go of the known (our self-image) and walk into the unknown (what lives outside our illusions). As this woman let go of her facade of the perfect woman, she embraced herself as an imperfect human being but one who could love and forgive. And as she led with her love, a new version of her emerged.
As we let go of those identities, the imaginary veils between us disappear. We are right to fear love. It asks us to take off our facades. When we let go of our facades and grieve, we sink under our self-image into the wordless tears.
“I Am Afraid of Death”
A therapist said, “My patient with cancer is afraid of dying. How do I deal with that?”
“Could you be open to his fear and let him be afraid so he can learn what his fear is pointing to?”
“I’ve been worrying about how much time we’ll have.”
“Right. We don’t know.”
“I feel anxious. I wonder when to end the therapy.”
“Death will do that. Is there a wish to end the therapy before he dies, so you don’t have to sit with him to the end?”
“That feels right. I’m afraid he will ask me what death means.”
“Could you sit with that question without having an answer for it?”
“He keeps wondering if death is a punishment from God.”
“No. It only seems like a punishment when we live in an imaginary world where everything lasts forever.”
Not willing to face life, we spend our lives in denial, running from limits and endings, even though no one outruns death. And only when it nears do we allow our denial to die before we do. Until then we use fantasies to ward off death.
Our wish for a world without loss causes continual suffering. We wait for the world we want, but the real world arrives instead. The deaths pile up: endings, illnesses, and losses of loved ones until we are next in line. These deaths batter our fantasies until our refusal to face limits breathes its last breath and dies.
This protest is not only individual but also cultural. Western culture has a death phobia. We flee the grim reaper through fantastical slogans: “Just do it!” “You can be anybody you want to be!” “You can have it all!” These fantasies are drummed into our heads as real, but the limits of life and death turn out to be real instead.
The terror of the end rarely appears as fear because we ward off our fear of death through eating fads, plastic surgery, hair coloring, the life of Homo consumens, and the frantic urge to do more and “be” more. Meanwhile, our skin sags, our hair grays, and we do less and less, unable to be what we are not: younger and further away from death.
A dietician friend of mine said, “Eat right, exercise, and die anyway.” If we view dying as a battle to win, we will lose. No matter what diet we eat or plastic surgery we endure, we soon become worm food. No longer refusing life, we face living into death. The following fable describes this path.
A salt doll walked along the sea for the first time. The doll asked, “Who are you?”
The water replied, “I am the ocean. Come in and find out.”
She walked into the waves and, just before dissolving, gasped, “Ah, now I understand who I am.”1
Our grief is not a thing we need to contain, manage, or understand but to live into so our illusions can dissolve. This allows the real to emerge. As we grieve the loss of our illusions, we become one with what is. Dying dissolves our denial, shifting our priorities from illusions to the truth.
We do not die by choice, but we can choose to face our feelings about it. We join our friends, our colleagues, and our loved ones by holding their hands while they enter the darkness and learning that we are dying too.
Falling into the mystery of death requires us to sacrifice our cherished illusions. When grief dissolves our denial, it dies before we do. As the dying goes through us, we live while dying. Death is always present because every moment dies and is replaced by another.
Dying invites us to let go of denial and to be open to what is: we are always living into death. And when sharing this experience with a dying friend, we give him what he can take to the grave—love. To love and to be loved by a person crossing the threshold is truly a blessing. It challenges our capacities to embrace the moment and leads to even deeper grief at the end—revealing our humanity. As we sit, holding his hand, loving him, knowing he feels loved, we feel what Joseph von Eichendorff points toward in his poem “Im Abendrot”:
The great peace here is wide
and still and rich with glowing sunsets:
If this is death,
Having had our fill of getting lost, we find beauty, No regrets.2
“I Want to Die!”
While most of us die due to illness and decline, some choose death to escape their pain. When love dies, we may say, as a depressed man did, “I want to die. I can’t go on.” How does a therapist overcome a patient’s urge to die?
She doesn’t. She accepts and explores his yearning to die. Open to this expression of the human heart, she does not treat the patient like an object to be fixed but as a person to be loved. She extends her hand, not a pill. For if she tries to convince him not to kill himself, she distances herself from his pain and from our universal urge to surrender when our hopes run out. Telling him to live when he wants to die is not listening.
I asked a depressed patient, “When did you start wanting to die?”
“My girlfriend and I were engaged and had set the wedding date,” he replied. “We went to a party one night and had too much to drink. I was out on the patio with my friends when I noticed she wasn’t there. I started looking for her, opened the door to a bedroom, and saw her having sex with the guy who owned the house. I couldn’t believe it. I walked out, got in my car, and drove home. She called me the next day and apologized, but she said she was in love with this guy and wanted to call off the wedding. I figured maybe she’ll get over it.”
“What’s the feeling toward her for betraying you?”
“I feel depressed.”
“But the feeling toward her?”
“I love her, but I hate myself. I wish she would come back.”
His wish to kill himself was double-sided. On the one hand, wanting to kill himself turned rage toward his ex-fiancé back upon himself. He dies, not her. On the other hand, wanting to die also meant he wanted to live: “I don’t want to live this way. I don’t want this facade of pure love anymore. Living a lie is unbearable.”
He wanted to die rather than suffer the death of his dreams. His dreams of his ex-fiancé’s return were a graveyard where he waited for a dead relationship to come to life. He could have let his hopes die but he considered killing himself instead.
In therapy, we held a funeral for the dead engagement, so it could be blessed and buried. Then he could relate to the ex-fiancé he had rather than the wish he had about her. Life is not worth living if we are living a dead dream. Only by burying the wish could this man find a way to live into what was.
We do not embrace the truth by holding ourselves outside of it and observing it but by becoming lost in it as salt dissolves in the sea. As his illusions dissolved in his grief, he let go of his attachment to an idea, the girl he wished his ex-fiancé were. Instead, he embraced the woman she was, which freed him to find the woman he eventually embraced and married, the woman who, in turn, embraced him.
This man was right: a dying life is not worth living. If he had killed himself, he would have avoided the pain of facing the dead engagement, but he also would have lost the chance to let go of an idea in his head and find a woman in the world. The therapist helped him let go of the fiancé who had already let go of him. This is why we say someone is attached to an idea: this man held onto the idea of a woman who wanted him because the real woman didn’t. He was not attached to her but to what was not there and not real.
We can even be attached to the idea of suicide itself. A woman met me for a consultation after having been suicidal in spite of therapy that lasted for twenty years. When I said she deadened her feelings, she replied, “Maybe I want to be dead.”
“The good news is, if you want to, you can. The ingredients are available in every drug store. Neither I nor your therapist can stop you from killing yourself. Even in hospitals people kill themselves. If you want to commit suicide, you can. This choice is always available, but why does such a talented person want to be a dead woman living in the casket? Why?”
The pain blossomed across her face and she burst into tears. After this consultation, for the first time, her suicidal depression lifted.
Her wish to die revealed her longing to live. What if the wish to die is the first step in the journey? Could the intent to end a dead life point to the wish to live a real one?
Underneath her longing to die was the wish to come out of the grave she had dug for herself. Her pain told her, “Your way of life has been a death in disguise.” In a sense, she could not commit suicide because she already lived as a dead woman. She was right to despair: living a lie is hopeless.
When listening to a person who wants to die, find out why. Something does need to die. Not the person, but her way of dying while alive.
How Death Talks to Us
While some seek a death they can avoid, others try to avoid death when it is inevitable. How does a therapist talk to a dying person? The following transcript of a role-play shows how I helped a student who was stuck in her work with a woman dying of cancer. She asked, “How do I talk to her?” We agreed to do a role-play in which I was the therapist and she, the woman
She started, “I’m here because there’s not much time.”
“Yes, can you accept that?”
“There is so much to do.”
“And not enough time.”
“I don’t know how much time I have.”
“Of course.”
“I see how I keep disappearing. I look in the mirror, and I see half of myself.”
“You’re dying; I see that too.”
“It’s terrible. I wonder how many times I will come here.” “We don’t know. This could be the last.”
“No, no, no! I have planned my last trip to Paris, and I’ll be here next week.”
“Mhmm.”
“I could die suddenly. The worst thing is when I think that I will live like a vegetable taking medications.”
“That’s possible.”
“It’s not acceptable for me.”
“Reality is not acceptable. Can you accept that you can’t accept life as it is?”
“I can’t accept that for many years I haven’t lived the way I wanted.”
“You can’t accept your past, but the past is what it is; it doesn’t need your acceptance.”
She paused. “It came to my mind that I’m probably afraid.”
“Can you accept your fear?”
“It’s difficult.”
“Can you accept this difficulty of accepting your feeling?”
“I can’t do anything else.”
“Reality is here whether you want it or not. What do you feel as we face death and your fear?”
“Emptiness.”
“Of course. You want to be empty rather than full of death and cancer and fear. We have a few sessions in which I can help you. Do you want me to help you before you die? It’s okay if you want to hide behind your emptiness.”
“I’m getting a stomachache.”
“It makes you anxious to face death, to face the goodbye.”
“It’s the first time I saw it. It is so difficult for me to allow this.”
“Can you accept that it’s difficult to allow death, to allow reality?”
“I knew the prognosis. Only now do I feel how close it is.” “You’re full of death.
You’re full of feelings. And we have today and hopefully a few more times to face these feelings together before you die. You have this chance, if you want to let down the wall before you die. Even if you regret your past, you can die in peace without regretting the present. Without the wall we’ll have a chance, but it is painful. If you want to fight reality, if you want to fight death, if you want to hide behind the emptiness, I will respect your wishes; and when you die I will bless you and your memory.” “I’m not empty at all.
I have so much, and I’m afraid I won’t have time.”
“You have this moment. Why wait? You’ve waited your whole life, and waiting has created your regrets. Why create more regret? Would you like to leave this prison of loneliness while you still can, before you die?”
She cried, “This is terrible, thinking this is the last time. What’s the point? Why?”
“Can we accept your wish not to connect? Shall we accept your wish to distance yourself from me, and to be alone? Can we accept your wish to die alone? It must be important to hide from me and remain the unknown woman.”
“No. I’d like just once to feel full acceptance and closeness, and I’m so afraid this is the end. It’s not worth it.”
“Do you want to be intimate with death? Death is intimate with you. Death is crawling through your bowels. Death is crawling through your liver.”
“I can’t stand it anymore.”
“Can you accept death?”
“I have no choice.”
“That’s true because death has accepted you. What do you feel when we make room for death to be here?”
“I’m a little bit less afraid.”
“What do you feel when we make space for death, allow death to be inside you, and allow death to be inside me?”
“It starts being mine.”
“Your death. What feelings do you notice when you accept your death?”
“It’s strange, but it’s peace.”
“Nowhere to go, nothing to do, no one else to be, only you and me here with death.”
“As if it has always been with me.”
“Death was always with you and for the first time you know it. What do you feel when you accept that death has always been with you?”
“Peace and relief. I thought that maybe I’m ready to say goodbye. I’d like to say goodbye to so many people. Also these unfinished scripts, I want to finish them.”
“We are always unfinished. You mentioned saying goodbye to your friends; by saying goodbye to your friends, you admit you love them and that they count.”
“More than at any time before.”
“Your love had meaning, they mattered to you, and your love matters now.”
As the pain spread across her face, she said, “It hurts.”
“This pain is the womb from which you are being born.”
“It’s a lot.”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to tell you that it’s all right now,” she said. Our role-play ended.
Therapists do not give us insights but invite us to experience the truth so insights can arise from within. Therapists don’t tell us what we don’t know. They tell us what we sense but don’t want to bear alone. They present reality in a manner we can listen to, accept, and live through together.
rrr uauaua ruarua rrua uauar uaruar ruaua uarr
Growing up, I thought salt belonged in a shaker at the table, and nowhere else. I never added it to food, or saw Maman add it. When my aunt Ziba sprinkled it onto her saffron rice at the table each night, my brothers and I giggled. We thought it was the strangest, funniest thing in the world. I associated salt with the beach, where I spent my childhood seasoned with it. There were the endless hours in the Pacific near our home in San Diego, swallowing mouthfuls of ocean water when I misjudged the waves. Tidepooling at twilight, my friends and I often fell victim to the saltwater spray while we poked at anemones.
Growing up, I thought salt belonged in a shaker at the table, and nowhere else. I never added it to food, or saw Maman add it. When my aunt Ziba sprinkled it onto her saffron rice at the table each night, my brothers and I giggled. We thought it was the strangest, funniest thing in the world. I associated salt with the beach, where I spent my childhood seasoned with it. There were the endless hours in the Pacific near our home in San Diego, swallowing mouthfuls of ocean water when I misjudged the waves. Tidepooling at twilight, my friends and I often fell victim to the saltwater spray while we poked at anemones. Maman kept our swimsuits in the back of our blue Volvo station wagon, because the beach was always where we wanted to be. She was deft with the umbrella and blankets, setting them up while she shooed the three of us into the sea. We would stay in the water until we were starving, scanning the beach for the sun-faded coral-and-white umbrella, the landmark that would lead us back to her. She always knew exactly what would taste best when we emerged: Persian cucumbers topped with sheep’s milk feta cheese, rolled together in lavash bread. We chased the sandwiches with handfuls of ice-cold grapes or wedges of watermelon to quench our thirst. That snack, eaten while my curls dripped with seawater and salt crust formed on my skin, always tasted so good. Without a doubt, the pleasures of the beach added to the magic of the experience, but it wasn’t until many years later, while I was working at Chez Panisse, that I understood why those bites had been so perfect from a culinary point of view. It was there that Chris Lee, a chef who took me under his wing, suggested I pay attention to the language the chefs used in the kitchen, how they knew when something was right — these were clues for how to become a better cook. Most often, when a dish fell flat, the answer lay in adjusting the salt. Sometimes it was in the form of salt crystals, but other times it meant a grating of cheese, some pounded anchovies, a few olives or a sprinkling of capers. I began to see that there was no better guide in the kitchen than thoughtful tasting, and that nothing was more important to taste thoughtfully for than salt.
Furthermore, music plays an integral role in human culture and personal identity. It can define social movements, influence fashion trends, and become a marker of significant moments in individual lives. The emotional resonance of a piece of music can bring back memories, inspire creativity, or provide comfort during challenging times. Artists and musicians often use their craft to convey messages, challenge societal norms, or simply provide entertainment. The process of creating music, from the initial inspiration to the final performance, involves a deep level of artistic and technical skill, showcasing the diverse talents of composers, performers, and producers. As a form of art, music invites listeners to engage in a sensory experience that can be both personal and communal. Whether performed in a grand concert hall, a cozy living room, or streamed through headphones during a morning commute, music has the power to connect individuals across different walks of life, offering a source of joy, reflection, and connection in an ever-changing world.
En el teatro de la vida, cada día es un acto único que se despliega ante nuestros ojos como una obra maestra en constante evolución. Los personajes entran y salen, dejando su huella en el escenario del tiempo. Entre risas y lágrimas, triunfos y fracasos, tejemos la trama de nuestra historia personal. A veces somos protagonistas, otras veces meros espectadores. Pero en cada escena, encontramos lecciones que nos ayudan a crecer y a descubrir el significado más profundo de nuestra existencia.
En el vasto lienzo del cosmos, las estrellas titilan como joyas incrustadas en la tela de la noche. La luna, serena y majestuosa, derrama su luz plateada sobre el paisaje nocturno. En este escenario celestial, el tiempo se diluye y el alma se sumerge en la contemplación del infinito, encontrando paz en la inmensidad del universo y recordando que somos parte de algo mucho más grande que nosotros mismos.
