"Simply love"

I was always more than happy to oblige when Margeth called me and asked me to make her happy. That meant, she wanted me to come over for a weekend. She lived far from trafficked roads in a lovely cabin.

She was a little sad when I got there. She had to put down diseased trees. There was so much regret in her voice, she felt like she euthanized the trees.

- “They were endangering the house.” She said while a tear rolled over her cheek.

In her company, I found a measure of solace for the pain from haunting childhood wounds. We could talk for hours about a lot of things: the depths of evil, the differences between boundaries and horizons, and seeking holiness and mysteries in the natural world.

We sat outside, watching the river´s current.

- “This is such a good place to live.” I thought out loud.

- “Did you know I wanted to become a nun once?” Margreth asked me. I laughed:

- “You? A nun!! I giggled, “You mean the kind in the immaculate white robes?”

Margreth nodded.

- “Live a life of medieval austerity.” I added questioningly. This time she shook her head:

- “For me, it proved nothing more than a romantic fling. I lacked monastic vocation.” We both laughed.

- “Well, at least your heart didn´t break over it.” I said, wiping a laughing tear from my face.

- “After that, I wanted to live as a hermit, ow a witch in the woods.” Margeth continued.

- “I played with the idea of becoming a powerful witch too.” I giggled.

- “The land is sentient and responsive.” Margreth mused, “It is informed by its own memory.”

- “Why do you write?” I asked her.

- “Why don´t you?” she returned my question.

- “Writer’s block.” I replied dryly. “Food on the table stories is all I´m capable of letting flow out of my pen.”

Margeth raised her eyebrows.

- “They fill the belly and pay the bills.” I tried to defend myself.

- “This nourishes you as well?” She asked. I didn´t answer. I knew she already knew the answer.

- “You didn´t answer me.” I remarked.

- “Neither did you.” She returned.

A plane flew over and punctured the silence of the landscape. I followed the plane with my eyes.

- “To translate pain and injustice into words.” Margeth said. I looked at her questioningly.

- “The answer to your question.” Margeth sighed, “That´s why I write.” She came close to me and looked me straight in the eyes:

- “Your path led you into the darkest corners of the human psyche. Be a vessel! Address people´s minds. Help them heal!”

And so, I found myself on my way to Saint Anne´s. I wouldn´t have to stay there very long, Margeth had assured me. Just help out as an interim. Supervising ECT was my job description. So, I wouldn´t have to do very much either. I stayed for then days. I was silent for most of those ten days and overwhelmed by the vertigo of that silence. To Freud, mental health was the ability to both love and do work. He had a second definition as well: people are not prey to neurotic misery, just to common unhappiness. The kind that life holds in store for humans in unpredictable ways. At the time, my mental health fell under the good doctor´s second assumption.

There were about fifty patients: mostly men. I eyed them discretely as I walked the halls, wondering who among them went through the most severe crisis. Who was single, who was rich or poor, fragile, or unhappy – like anybody would be there if their occupation was to be happy for a living. There was a young high school teacher, a beanie with dreadlocks, a physiotherapist, an outdoorsy adept of the Eastern mystics, and others who could e anything from insurance to ticket salespeople. The usual mix you would find in any hotel lobby.

Except for the meditation sessions, there was no silence imposed: noble or otherwise. Night fell early there. I passed the time, eavesdropping on people in the dining hall. Everything revolved around what awaited them the next day.

- “Is this your first time?” The question took me out of my observations. The little guy, standing behind me reminded me of someone, though I couldn’t put my finger on it. He took place, opposite me at the dinner table.

- “I benefit from the prestige that comes with experience.” He said. I wondered if he realized that in that same breath, he was telling me his ECT wasn´t working. He told me he was a vegetarian and shared his insights into chakra alignment with me.

Two hours per day were spent in meditation. The goal of these sessions was to find out, whatever prejudices one harbored. Next to that, there was psychoanalysis as well. 

My favorite patient was a woman, called Anne. She always wore something blue and was incredibly pretty. My office had a splendid ocean view. Anne walked in, dragging a Zofu behind her.

- “I brought Fufu with me.” She smiled.

I waved to her to have a seat on the proverbial couch, but she chose to sit on the floor next to the Zofu (Fufu). I took place opposite her on the floor. She had a cellophane folder with her.

- “I have to observe my thoughts and my breathing.” She began.

- “Very wise!” I exclaimed.

Anne told me that every time she got married, she made an album of family photos and that she worried where the photos would go when she separated. She said she had two little boys. She changed the subject and told me she missed crepes for breakfast.

The light turned cruel; a heavy rain started pounding down on the sand-colored ground of the garden.

Anna was contemplating the rain: “I don´t expect much from life.” She said, “I have been sentimentally adrift for years on end.”

Something changed in her appearance: she started to glow:

- “I have arrived,” she smiled, “and I will shelter this new love from storms.” She glanced at me to make sure I was paying attention.

- “The danger no longer comes from inside me.” She whispered, “It´s coming from the outside.”

She looked me straight in the eyes and said:

- “I´m not crazy!”

I took a deep breath and stared back into those blue eyes. I don´t remember for how long we sat there like that. I felt like I was starting to float in the air.

- “I have finally escaped it.” Anna broke the silence.”

- “Escaped what?” I asked.

- “Ordinary unhappiness. „She replied.

- “Could it be an illusion?” I wanted to know.

- “Isn´t everything?” she returned my question.

- “What makes this moment in your life so good?” I continued.

- “Love!” she sighed, “Simply love!”

I heard myself repeating her words.

- “Am I in the clear now, doctor?” Anna asked. I stood up and walked to my desk.

- “Go celebrate the holidays with your family.” I told her.

Anna jumped up and clasped her hands. I prepared her paperwork and brought it up to the reception. Anne was already waiting, by the time I got there, standing next to her suitcase and Fufu at her feet. When she noticed me looking at the zofu, she blushed and said:

- “He´s just a mangy one-eyed mongrel, but I love him.”

I helped her put the suitcase in the trunk of the taxi, while anna got in the backseat with Fufu in her lap, smiling the happy smile of the child she was once upon a time. She blew me a few kisses as the taxi drove off.

I never saw Anne again, but I hope she has “Simply” love for the remainder of her days.