Laboratori Di Medicina Narrativa: sabato 11 luglio dalle 16 alle 17.30

Siamo stati molto lieti di avervi avuti con noi!

Abbiamo letto insieme la fiaba Rosaspina dei fratelli Grimm, una rielaborazione piรน breve di La bella addormentata nel bosco di Charles Perrault. I partecipanti sono rimasti colpiti dalla possibilitร  di mettere in connessione un testo cosรฌ fantasioso con la realtร  della cura. Abbiamo parlato del tempo, dellโ€™attesa, del coraggio, della speranza, del sogno. Qualcuno ha fatto notare la dimensione perturbante delle fiabe, che ci colpiscono fin da bambini ma vengono rielaborate in modo diverso nellโ€™etร  adulta. Altri hanno interpretato il sonno e il risveglio come una metafora dello spirito che entra in una fase dormiente per poi accedere a una nuova consapevolezza. Abbiamo anche riflettuto sullโ€™idea di โ€œlieto fineโ€.ย 

Poi, abbiamo scritto ispirati dalla frase: โ€œCโ€™era una voltaโ€ฆโ€. Alla luce dei testi, abbiamo riflettuto sugli elementi dello spazio, del corpo e del tempo, ma anche sulla tripartizione dellโ€™io nella scrittura autobiografica e in particolare diaristica, dove le figure del narratore, del protagonista e del primo lettore si sovrappongono. Si รจ dunque parlato della scrittura come strumento umano per soffermarsi e interpretare il mondo che ci circonda. Sono emersi i temi dellโ€™assenza e della presenza, e qualcuno รจ rimasto colpito dalla magia di sentire gli altri partecipanti che leggevano ad alta voce il proprio testo.

Invitiamo i partecipanti del laboratorio a condividere i propri scritti nella parte “blog” dedicata alla fine della presente pagina (“Leave a Reply”). Speriamo di creare, attraverso questo forum di condivisione, uno spazio in cui continuare la nostra conversazione!

Stiamo raccogliendo impressioni e breve feedback sui nostri laboratori di medicina narrativa su Zoom!

Questo breve questionario (anonimo, e aperto a chiunque abbia frequentato almeno un laboratorio) รจ molto importante per noi, e ci permetterร  di elaborare sul valore dei nostri laboratori e sul ruolo dello spazio per riflettere e metabolizzare il momento presente. Vi preghiamo quindi di condividere le nostre riflessioni con noi! 


Rosaspina dei Fratelli Grimm

Cโ€™erano una volta un re e una regina che ogni giorno dicevano: “Ah, se avessimo un bambino!”. Ma il bambino non veniva mai. Un giorno, mentre la regina faceva il bagno, ecco che un gambero saltรฒ fuori dall’acqua e le disse: “Il tuo desiderio sarร  esaudito: darai alla luce una bambina”.

La profezia del gambero si avverรฒ e la regina partorรฌ una bimba cosรฌ bella che il re non stava piรน nella pelle dalla gioia e ordinรฒ una gran festa. Non invitรฒ soltanto i suoi parenti, amici e conoscenti, ma anche le fate, perchรฉ fossero benevole e propizie alla neonata. Nel suo regno ve n’erano tredici, ma siccome egli possedeva soltanto dodici piatti d’oro per il pranzo, dovette rinunciare a invitarne una.

Dopo la festa, le fate diedero alla bimba i loro doni meravigliosi: la prima le donรฒ la virtรน, la seconda la bellezza, la terza la ricchezza, e cosรฌ via (โ€ฆ). Dieci fate avevano giร  formulato il loro auspicio, quando giunse la tredicesima che voleva vendicarsi perchรฉ non era stata invitata. Ella disse ad alta voce: “A quindici anni, la principessa si pungerร  con un fuso e cadrร  a terra morta”. Allora si fece avanti la dodicesima, che doveva ancora formulare il suo voto; certo non poteva annullare la spietata sentenza, ma poteva attenuarla e disse: “La principessa non morirร , ma cadrร  in un sonno profondo che durerร  cento anni”.

Il re, sperando di poter preservare la sua bambina da quella grave disgrazia, ordinรฒ che tutti i fusi del regno fossero bruciati. Frattanto, si adempirono i voti delle fate: la fanciulla era cosรฌ bella, virtuosa, gentile e intelligente, che non si poteva guardarla senza volerle bene. Ora avvenne che, proprio il giorno in cui compรฌ quindici anni, il re e la regina fossero fuori ed ella rimanesse sola nel castello. Girรฒ dappertutto, visitรฒ ogni stanza e giunse infine a una vecchia torre (โ€ฆ): in una piccola stanzetta c’era una vecchia con un fuso che filava con solerzia il suo lino.

“Oh, nonnina (โ€ฆ) Come gira quest’aggeggio!”, esclamรฒ la fanciulla, e prese in mano il filo per filare anche lei. Ma non appena lo toccรฒ, si compรฌ l’incantesimo ed ella si punse un dito. Come sentรฌ la puntura, cadde a terra in un sonno profondo. E il re e la regina, che stavano rincasando, si addormentarono anch’essi con tutta la corte. I cavalli si addormentarono nelle stalle, i cani nel cortile, le colombe sul tetto, le mosche sulla parete; persino il fuoco che fiammeggiava nel camino si smorzรฒ e si assopรฌ (โ€ฆ). Tutto ciรฒ che aveva parvenza di vita, tacque e dormรฌ.

Intorno al castello crebbe una siepe di fitte spine, che ogni anno diventava sempre piรน alta, finchรฉ arrivรฒ a cingerlo completamente e a ricoprirlo tutto. (โ€ฆ) Nel paese si diffuse la leggenda di Rosaspina, la bella addormentata, come veniva chiamata la principessa; e ogni tanto veniva qualche principe che si avventurava attraverso il roveto tentando di raggiungere il castello. Ma non riuscivano a penetrarvi perchรฉโ€š le spine li trattenevano come se si fosse trattato di mani, ed essi si impigliavano e morivano miseramente.

Dopo molti, molti anni, giunse nel paese un altro principe; un vecchio gli parlรฒ dello spineto che circondava un castello nel quale una meravigliosa principessa di nome Rosaspina dormiva con tutta la corte. (โ€ฆ) Molti principi avevano tentato di penetrare fra le spine ma vi erano rimasti imprigionati ed erano miseramente periti. Allora il giovane disse: “Io non ho timore: attraverserรฒ i rovi e vedrรฒ la bella Rosaspina”. Il vecchio cercรฒ di dissuaderlo in tutti i modi, ma egli non gli diede retta.

Ora, proprio il giorno in cui il principe tentรฒ l’impresa erano trascorsi cento anni. Quando si avvicinรฒ al roveto, non trovรฒ che fiori bellissimi che si scostarono spontaneamente al suo passaggio, ricongiungendosi alle sue spalle, sicchรฉโ€š egli passรฒ illeso. Giunto nel cortile del castello, vide cavalli e cani da caccia pezzati che dormivano, distesi a terra; sul tetto erano posate le colombe con le testine sotto l’ala. Quando entrรฒ, le mosche dormivano sulla parete (โ€ฆ) mentre la serva sedeva davanti al pollo nero che doveva spennare. Egli andรฒ oltre e vide dormire tutta la corte e in alto, sul trono, dormivano il re e la regina. Proseguรฌ ancora e il silenzio era tale che egli udiva il proprio respiro. Finalmente giunse alla torre e aprรฌ la porta della cameretta in cui dormiva Rosaspina. Giaceva lร , ed era cosรฌ bella che egli non riusciva a distoglierne lo sguardo. Si chinรฒ e le diede un bacio.

Come l’ebbe baciata, Rosaspina aprรฌ gli occhi, si svegliรฒ e lo guardรฒ ridente. Allora scesero insieme, e anche il re, la regina e lโ€™intera corte si svegliarono, e tutti si guardarono stupiti. I cavalli in cortile si alzarono e si scrollarono; i cani da caccia saltarono su scodinzolando; le colombe sul tetto levarono la testina da sotto l’ala, si guardarono intorno e volarono nei campi; le mosche ripresero a muoversi sulle pareti; il fuoco in cucina si ravvivรฒ, si mise ad ardere e continuรฒ a cuocere il pranzo (โ€ฆ); e la serva finรฌ di spennare il pollo.

Poi furono celebrate con gran fasto le nozze del principe e di Rosaspina, che vissero felici fino alla morte.


Wirtualne Grupy Narracyjne: Wtorek 7 lipca, 18:00 CET

Dziฤ™kujemy wszystkim, ktรณrzy wziฤ™li udziaล‚ w dzisiejszej grupie narracyjnej!

Wspรณlnie uwaลผnie wsล‚uchaliล›my siฤ™ w utwรณr Stephaneโ€™a Wrembela zatytuล‚owany โ€žNympheas (Lilie wodne), pochodzฤ…cy z pล‚yty โ€žThe Django Experiment Vโ€ โ€“ dostฤ™pny tutaj.

Inspiracja do kreatywnego pisania brzmiaล‚a: โ€žNapisz o czymล›, co chciaล‚byล›/abyล› usล‚yszeฤ‡ lub o czymล›, czego nie chciaล‚byล›/abyล› usล‚yszeฤ‡.โ€.

Dzisiejsza praca odbywaล‚a siฤ™ pod hasล‚em uwaลผnego sล‚uchania. Uczestnicy wskazywali na to, jak bardzo wyostrzyล‚a siฤ™ ich percepcja, zarรณwno na detale samego utworu, jak i na pobrzmienia dynamiki grupy. Wypowiedzi poszczegรณlnych osรณb, choฤ‡ o rรณลผnym zabarwieniu, odmiennej perspektywie czy sposobie odbioru, harmonizowaล‚y ze sobฤ…. Uczestnicy wsล‚uchiwali siฤ™ w odrฤ™bne od ich wล‚asnych interpretacje, komentowali i wplatali je w swoje sล‚owa. Pozostawali w dialogu nasuwajฤ…cym na myล›l odpowiadajฤ…ce na siebie instrumenty wykorzystywane w utworze. Wskazana zostaล‚a ponadto pewna trudnoล›ฤ‡, wynikajฤ…ca ze specyfiki tekstu muzycznego. Uczestnicy mรณwili o poczuciu braku odpowiednich narzฤ™dzi, czy teลผ niedysponowania adekwatnym jฤ™zykiem opisu.

Reakcje, czฤ™sto skrajnie odmienne, staล‚y siฤ™ przyczynฤ… wprowadzenia inspiracji otwartej na jeszcze szerszฤ… niลผ zazwyczaj gamฤ™ odpowiedzi. W drugiej poล‚owie spotkania panowaล‚ nieco odmienny nastrรณj, praca zdawaล‚a siฤ™ nieco spowalniaฤ‡, odpowiedzi pojawiaล‚y siฤ™ po chwilach przerwy. Pomimo niewielu treล›ci wypowiadanych wprost w sล‚owach, energia grupy byล‚a wciฤ…ลผ wysoka. Pod koniec pracy zaskakujฤ…cฤ… okazaล‚a siฤ™ potrzeba ciszy oraz gotowoล›ฤ‡ do jej grupowego doล›wiadczenia. Uczestnicy ochoczo zgodzili siฤ™ na chwilฤ™ wspรณlnego niemรณwienia. Byล‚a ona do tego stopnia satysfakcjonujฤ…ca, ลผe jej zakoล„czenie spotkaล‚o siฤ™ z niewielkim protestem, jednak umocowaล‚a ona poczucie wspรณlnoty oraz stworzyล‚a jeszcze bardziej przyjaznฤ… atmosferฤ™. Grupa spostrzegล‚a, ลผe pojawiajฤ…ce siฤ™ chwile ciszy byล‚y integralnฤ… czฤ™ล›ciฤ… dzisiejszego doล›wiadczenia. Uczestnicy powiฤ…zali tฤ™ perspektywฤ™ z charakterem utworu, na ktรณrego caล‚oล›ฤ‡ skล‚adaล‚y siฤ™ rรณwnieลผ chwile, w ktรณrych cichnie wiodฤ…ca melodia.

Jak moลผna byล‚o zauwaลผyฤ‡ brak ugruntowania w teorii muzyki w ลผaden sposรณb nie stanowiล‚ przeszkody do wyraลผenia swojej perspektywy interpretacyjnej. Uczestnicy dostrzegli melodyjnoล›ฤ‡ mowy, ktรณra staล‚a siฤ™ intersubiektywnym jฤ™zykiem dzisiejszego spotkania.

Zapraszamy do udziaล‚u w kolejnych sesjach, ktรณrych terminy podane sฤ… na polskiej podstronie Wirtualnych Grup Narracyjnych. Najbliลผsza grupa odbฤ™dzie siฤ™ 16 lipca (czwartek) o godzinie 18:00 โ€“ zarejestruj siฤ™ juลผ dziล›.

Wszelkie pytania oraz proล›by o organizacjฤ™ indywidualnych grup narracyjnych dla Waszych zespoล‚รณw moลผna przesyล‚aฤ‡ na adres: narrativemedicine@cumc.columbia.edu oraz humanistykamedyczna@cm.uj.edu.pl.

Do zobaczenia niebawem!

***

Thank you to everyone who began with us the work during this very unusual session.

Together we listened closely to Stephane Wrembelโ€™s โ€œNympheasโ€ from the album โ€œThe Django Experiment Vโ€โ€“ available here.

Our prompt for today was: โ€œWrite about something that you would like to hear or about something that you would rather not hear.โ€

Today’s work was a true experience of attentive listening. Participants pointed out how sharp their perception was, regarding both the details of the song itself and the dynamics of the group. The statements of individuals, even with different tones, perspectives, and methods of reception, harmonized with each other. Participants listened to interpretations separate from their own, commented, and weaved them into their words. They remained in a dialogue reminiscent of the corresponding instruments used in the song. A certain difficulty was also indicated, resulting from the specificity of the musical text. Participants talked about the sense of the lack of appropriate tools, or the lack of adequate description language.

Reactions, often extremely different, led to the introduction of the prompt open to an even wider range of responses than usual. In the second half of the meeting there was a slightly different mood. The work seemed to slow down a bit and answers appeared after moments of silence. Despite the few things were spoken directly in words, the group’s energy was still high. At the end of the work, the need for silence and readiness to experience it appeared surprisingly. The participants eagerly agreed to stay silent together for a while. It was so satisfying that ending the session was met with a little protest, but it strengthened the sense of community and created an even more friendly atmosphere. The group noticed that the moments of silence that were appearing during the work were an integral part of today’s experience. The participants associated this perspective with the character of the song, which also included moments in which the leading melody fades away.

As it could be seen, the lack of background in music theory was in no way an obstacle to expressing oneโ€™s own interpretation perspective. Participants noticed the melody of their speech, which became the intersubjective language of today’s meeting.

Please join us for our next session: Monday June 13th, 12pm EDT (in English), with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

If you have questions, or would like to schedule a personalized narrative medicine session for your organization or team, email us at narrativemedicine@cumc.columbia.edu.

We look forward to seeing you again soon!


Live Virtual Group Session: 12pm EDT July 8th 2020

Todayโ€™s session welcomed 31 participants from around the United States and around the world, but most of us were sharing the experience of muggy air and, in Bristol, UK, even heavy rain โ€“ย with the exception of Palo Alto, California, where sunshine abounded. Lucky Palo Alto!ย 

After our usual 10-second centering exercise, we read silently the poem โ€œMeeting the Light Completelyโ€ by Jane Hirshfield, and then two participants read it aloud. Although only 65 words long, the poem generated a wonderful variety of responses. One person remarked that she tends to rush through her first reading of a poem to try to get a sense of it, but her heart skipped at the line โ€œruin your heart.โ€ Others noticed the way the phrase โ€œthe chipped lip / of a blue-glazed cupโ€ tripped us up even after hearing it several times, especially compared to the smooth sounds of the opening stanza. We thought about how the poemโ€™s form might mirror the journey of a long relationship, with periods of calm and a machine-gun-like choppiness, though we had different instincts about when those periods might come. That choppiness and suspense would be further heightened with a slow reading that emphasized the line breaks, someone said. Another participant heard echoes of the human form in the cupโ€™s lip and the curtain, which could be a gown. The line about โ€œA table painted with rosesโ€ made us consider what we imagine in our heads — were they actually painted on the table, or was โ€œpaintedโ€ a metaphor for how a vase was decorating the space? What do we see? We also were reminded of works outside the text, like a declaration of love in the film Moonstruck where a character asks another to โ€œbe a fool with me.โ€ As for the title, we thought about โ€œlightโ€ in relation to truth, and noticed how โ€œmeetingโ€ added a sense of forward direction, while โ€œcompletelyโ€ led us to being at one with the world.ย ย ย 

Our writing prompt, โ€œWrite about what you found,โ€ generated vivid and varied responses that spanned the abstract/metaphorical (โ€œa path not takenโ€) to the specific and cinematic (a ring lost by its owner and found by its master, a la Lord of the Rings). Echoing the somewhat-staccato Hirshfield poem, writers experimented with narrative form, nuanced details, and โ€œbookendingโ€ sensorial imagery with reflective questions (โ€œCan one ever find what one loses?โ€). Writing in layers helped define particular spaces in new ways: a table was โ€œtrappedโ€ under a stack of books and papers; a rag picker discovered a locket in a dump. With an economy and energy of language, each writer/reader added a personal flourish to their 4-minute expression of what was found (or what was lost then found). One participant noted that as a group, we traveled this journey of reading and writing together.

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Monday, July 13th at 6pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

We look forward to seeing you again soon!


Meeting the Light Completely  
by Jane Hirshfield

Even the long-beloved
was once
an unrecognized stranger.

Just so,
the chipped lip
of a blue-glazed cup,
blown field
of a yellow curtain,
might also,
flooding and falling,
ruin your heart.

A table painted with roses.
An empty clothesline.

Each time,
the found world surprisesโ€”
that is its nature.

And then
what is said by all lovers:
"What fools we were, not to have seen."

Poem copyright ยฉ1994 by Jane Hirshfield, "Meeting the Light Completely,"
from Poetry of Presence: An Anthology of Mindfulness Poems, 
(Grayson Books, 2017).

Wirtualne Grupy Narracyjne: Czwartek 2 lipca, 18:00 CET

Dziฤ™kujemy wszystkim, ktรณrzy wziฤ™li udziaล‚ w dzisiejszej grupie narracyjnej!
Wspรณlnie uwaลผnie przyjrzeliล›my siฤ™ zdjฤ™ciu Umbo (Otto Umbehra) โ€žTajemnica ulicy (Mysterium der StraรŸe)โ€, ktรณrego reprodukcjฤ™ zamieszczamy poniลผej.

Inspiracja do kreatywnego pisania brzmiaล‚a: โ€žOdpowiedz na pytanie ulicyโ€.

Wypowiedziana w tytule fotografii tajemnica wydawaล‚a siฤ™ byฤ‡ w czasie dzisiejszej sesji silnฤ… motywacjฤ… do odkrycia niewiadomego. Praca byล‚a wymagajฤ…ca, a momentami nawet nuลผฤ…ca i rozmijajฤ…ca siฤ™. Uczestnicy przedstawiali swoje interpretacje w sposรณb obszerny i domykajฤ…cy, broniฤ…c indywidualnych perspektyw. Moลผna byล‚o zaobserwowaฤ‡ niezwykล‚ฤ… dynamikฤ™ zgadzania siฤ™ i niezgadzania ze sposobem patrzenia innego. Wzajemne dostrzeลผenie okazywaล‚o siฤ™ nie takie oczywiste, a grupa interpretujฤ…c tekst mรณwiล‚a o niewidzeniu i przeoczeniu. W odpowiedzi na inspiracjฤ™ daล‚o siฤ™ sล‚yszeฤ‡ gล‚os sprzeciwu, niemoลผliwoล›ci poznania niewiadomego. Jednakลผe peล‚na gotowoล›ฤ‡ do interpretacji wypowiedziana w trakcie przedstawiania siฤ™ uczestnikรณw nie daล‚a za wygranฤ…. Kiedy pod sam koniec grupa zdecydowaล‚a siฤ™ na wspรณlny powrรณt do tekstu, niespodziewana zmiana perspektywy patrzenia (dosล‚owne i przenoล›ne odwrรณcenie zdjฤ™cia do gรณry nogami) przyniosล‚a satysfakcjonujฤ…ce poczucie dokonanego odkrycia.

Zapraszamy do udziaล‚u w kolejnych sesjach, ktรณrych terminy podane sฤ… na polskiej podstronie Wirtualnych Grup Narracyjnych. Najbliลผsza grupa odbฤ™dzie siฤ™ 7 lipca (wtorek) o godzinie 18:00 โ€“ zarejestruj siฤ™ juลผ dziล›.

Wszelkie pytania oraz proล›by o organizacjฤ™ indywidualnych grup narracyjnych dla Waszych zespoล‚รณw moลผna przesyล‚aฤ‡ na adres: narrativemedicine@cumc.columbia.edu oraz humanistykamedyczna@cm.uj.edu.pl.

Do zobaczenia niebawem!

Umbo (Otto Umbehr) โ€žTajemnica ulicy (Mysterium der StraรŸe)โ€, 1928, Thomas Walther Collection / Umbo (Otto Umbehr) โ€žMystery of the Street (Mysterium der StraรŸe)โ€, 1928, Thomas Walther Collection

***

Thank you to everyone who began with us the work during this very unusual session.

Together we looked at โ€žMystery of the Street (Mysterium der StraรŸe),โ€ a painting by Umbo (Otto Umbehr), posted above.

Our prompt for today was: โ€œAnswer the question of the street.โ€

The mystery expressed in the title of the photography seemed to be a strong motivation for discovering the unknown during today’s session. The work was demanding, and sometimes even tedious and going separate ways. Participants presented their interpretations in a comprehensive and closing way, defending individual perspectives. The extraordinary dynamics of agreeing and disagreeing with the way of looking at another could be observed. Mutual perception turned out to be not so obvious, and the group interpreting the text talked about not seeing and overlooking. In the response to the prompt, one could hear a voice of opposition, the impossibility of knowing the unknown. However, full readiness to interpret expressed when the participants introduced themselves was not given up. When at the end the group decided to come back to the text together, the unexpected change in perspective (literally and figuratively turning the photo upside down) brought a satisfying sense of discovery.

Please join us for our next session: Wednesday July 8th, 12pm EDT (in English), with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

If you have questions, or would like to schedule a personalized narrative medicine session for your organization or team, email us at narrativemedicine@cumc.columbia.edu.

We look forward to seeing you again soon!


Live Virtual Group Session: 6pm EDT July 6th 2020

On Monday July 6, 2020 28 participants, including a handful of newcomers, came together from all across  the USA, as well as Canada, New Zealand, UK, and India.

The text we read together was โ€œBring Me the Sunflower So I Can Transplant Itโ€ by Eugenio Montale. After listening to two different voices read the poem aloud in English, we experienced the original text in Italian, listening for differences in sounds, word choices, and musicality. We were moved to examine the translation and the complexity of the process. For example, what changes for a reader when a sunflower is said to โ€œshow all day to the blue reflection of the sky the anxiety of its golden faceโ€ and what happens when the flower is seen to โ€œlift the craving of its golden face to the mirroring blueโ€?

In our close reading, we paid attention to โ€œplantโ€ and โ€œtransplantโ€, which we observed are both nouns and verbs. In doing so, we looked at the โ€œspecial language of placeโ€, as highlighted by one of our participants: the art of planting and transplanting involves a dialogue among the plant in question, its roots, the new and the old soil, and the hands that are placing a living thing in the earth. One person read the text as implying: people, as well as flowers, put down roots.

Discussions open up when participants share their different reader-responses. It is always incredibly humbling for us to remember that there are as many interpretations as there are participants in the room. In particular, we focused on the โ€œIโ€ and โ€œyouโ€ in the poem, and the varied shades the word โ€œbringโ€ can have. This evening, one participant heard the poemโ€™s โ€œIโ€ as making a โ€œdemand of the youโ€ and explained that seeing, in the Italian version, the familiar form โ€œtuโ€ caused her to sense a power imbalance between the one โ€œwho commands to bring a sunflowerโ€ and the one โ€œwho will do the work of plantingโ€. Another participant focused on contrasts in the poemโ€”beauty and darkness appearing in proximity โ€“ and the interpretation of โ€œbring meโ€ more as a โ€œgentle pleaโ€ than a command. Another person shared that the poem made her think of Vincent Van Goghโ€™s paintings of sunflowers (which we readily projected alongside paintings by Klimt and Van Gogh).  The poemโ€™s mention of โ€œanxietyโ€, she said, brought her back to Van Goghโ€™s struggles with anxiety, and the parallels between his love of light and Montaleโ€™s โ€œsunflower sent mad with light.โ€

After the group was prompted to write for 4 minutes, beginning with the words โ€œBring meโ€ฆโ€ three readers read their work. Listeners reflected back the beauty, generosity, grace, and gratitude expressed in the writing. The first piece of writing expressed a manโ€™s deep yearning for his children living thousands of miles away. โ€œBring meโ€ was repeated three times in ways that resonated with many in the group as we continue to find ourselvesโ€”due to the coronavirusโ€”isolated and separated from those we love. The second text was an invitation for an open exchange between a giver and a receiver: an exchange of lies, secrets, wrongdoings โ€œthat have not been told beforeโ€. In this piece there was not only an offering to listen but also a confession of oneโ€™s own failings. The ending suggested that an outcome of such an exchange might be that both could feel โ€œlighterโ€. A fellow participant highlighted how the writing described โ€œwhat we love in a good conversationโ€: openness, desire for dialogue, a determination to openly share what we tend to hide. The third reader asked to be brought the light and color of a sunflower in order to share with the universe.

In these times, when current events and fear of contagion lead us to reconsider terms of sharing, touching, passing on, we thoroughly enjoyed sharing this time with our participants, and โ€“ in the words of one of our participants โ€“ โ€œsharing the contagion of what transpires in our communityโ€. We left each other with the image of โ€œa smiling sunflowerโ€, โ€œgrace and reminders of what is importantโ€ and โ€œrich metaphors of transformation and optimismโ€. We hope this new week brings you all a similar richness of colors, experiences, and community sharing.

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Wednesday, July 8th at 12pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

We look forward to seeing you again soon!


Bring me the sunflower so I can transplant it โ€“ Eugenio Montale

Bring me the sunflower so I can transplant it
here in my own field burned by salt-spray,
so it can show all day to the blue reflection of the sky
the anxiety of its golden face.

Darker things yearn for a clarity,
bodies fade and exhaust themselves in a flood
of colors, as colors do in music. To vanish,
therefore, is the best of all good luck.

Bring me the plant that leads us
where blond transparencies rise up
and life evaporates like an essence;
bring me the sunflower sent mad with light. 

Laboratori Di Medicina Narrativa: sabato 4 luglio dalle 16 alle 17.30

Siamo stati molto lieti di avervi qui con noi!

Abbiamo letto insieme il testo “Con gli occhi del nemico” di David Grossman (allegato al termine di questa pagina)ย ย 

In seguito, abbiamo usato il prompt “Caro nemico, ti scrivoโ€ฆโ€

Condivideremo ulteriori dettagli della sessione nei prossimi giorni; vi invitiamo a rivisitare questa pagina nei prossimi giorni!

Invitiamo i partecipanti del laboratorio a condividere i propri scritti nella parte “blog” dedicata alla fine della presente pagina (“Leave a Reply”). Speriamo di creare, attraverso questo forum di condivisione, uno spazio in cui continuare la nostra conversazione!

Stiamo raccogliendo impressioni e breve feedback sui nostri laboratori di medicina narrativa su Zoom!

Questo breve questionario (anonimo, e aperto a chiunque abbia frequentato almeno un laboratorio) รจ molto importante per noi, e ci permetterร  di elaborare sul valore dei nostri laboratori e sul ruolo dello spazio per riflettere e metabolizzare il momento presente. Vi preghiamo quindi di condividere le nostre riflessioni con noi!ย 


David Grossman, Con gli occhi del nemico. Raccontare la pace in un paese di guerra. Mondadori, 2007 pagg 40-45, estratti.

โ€œNel momento in cui uno scriveโ€ dice Natalia Ginzburg ย โ€œรจ miracolosamente spinto a ignorare le circostanze presenti della sua propria vita. Certo รจ cosรฌ. Ma lโ€™essere felici o infelici si porta a scrivere in un modo o nellโ€™altro. Quando siamo felici la fantasia ha piรน forza; quando siamo infelici, agisce allora piรน vivacemente la nostra memoriaโ€. Si fa fatica a parlare di se stessi. Dirรฒ allora quello che posso in questo momento, nella condizione in cui mi trovo.

Io scrivo. La sciagura che mi รจ capitata, la morte di mio figlio Uri durante la seconda guerra del Libano, permea ogni momento della mia esistenza. La forza della memoria รจ in effetti smisurata, enorme. A tratti possiede qualitร  paralizzanti. Eppure lโ€™atto stesso di scrivere crea per me, ora, una specie di โ€œluogoโ€. Uno spazio emotivo che non avevo mai conosciuto prima, in cui la morte non รจ solo la contrapposizione totale, categorica, della vita. (โ€ฆ)

Io scrivo. Il mondo non mi si chiude addosso, non diventa piรน angusto. Mi si apre davanti, verso un futuro, verso altre possibilitร . Io immagino. Lโ€™atto stesso di immaginare mi ridร  vita. Non sono pietrificato, paralizzato dinanzi alla follia. Creo personaggi. Talora ho lโ€™impressione di estrarli dal ghiaccio in cui li ha imprigionati la realtร . Ma forse, piรน di tutto, sto estraendo me stesso da quel ghiaccio. (โ€ฆ)

Io scrivo. E mi rendo conto di come un uso appropriato e preciso delle parole sia talora una sorta di medicina che cura una malattia. Uno strumento per purificare lโ€™aria che respiro dalle prevaricazioni e dalle manipolazioni dei malfattori della lingua, dai suoi vari stupratori.  (โ€ฆ)

Io scrivo. Mi libero da una delle vocazioni ambigue e caratteristiche dello stato di guerra in cui vivo, quella di essere un nemico, solo ed esclusivamente un nemico. Io scrivo, e mi sforzo di non proteggere me stesso dalle sofferenze del nemico, dalle sue ragioni, dalla tragicitร  e dalla complessitร  della sua vita, dai suoi errori, dai suoi crimini. E nemmeno dalla consapevolezza di quello che io faccio a lui, nรฉ dai sorprendenti tratti di somiglianza che scopro tra lui  e me.

Io scrivo. Ad un tratto non sono piรน condannato a una dicotomia totale, fasulla e soffocante: la scelta brutale tra essere โ€œvittima o aggressoreโ€, senza che mi sia concessa una terza possibilitร , piรน umana. Quando scrivo riesco ad essere un uomo nel senso pieno del termine, un uomo che si sposta con naturalezza tra le varie parti di cui รจ composto, che ha momenti in cui si sente vicino alla sofferenza e alle ragioni dei suoi nemici senza rinunciare minimamente alla propria identitร .(โ€ฆ)

E scrivo anche ciรฒ che non potrร  mai piรน essere, per cui non cโ€™รจ consolazione. E anche allora, in un modo che ancora non so spiegare, le circostanze della mia vita non mi si chiudono addosso, non mi paralizzano. Piรน volte al giorno, seduto alla mia scrivania, tocco con mano il dolore, la perdita, come si tocca un filo della corrente a mani nude. E non muoio. Non capisco come questo accada. (โ€ฆ)

E scrivo della vita del mio paese, Israele. Un paese tormentato, intossicato da troppa storia, da sentimenti esasperati che non possono essere umanamente contenuti, da troppi eventi e tragedie, da ansie parossistiche, da una luciditร  paralizzante, da un eccesso di memorie, da speranze deluse, dalle circostanze di un destino unico nel suo genere tra tutti i popoli del mondo, da unโ€™esistenza che a volte appare mitica, al punto che sembra che qualcosa sia andato storto nei suoi rapporti con la vita e con la possibilitร  che noi, Israeliani, potremmo un giorno condurre unโ€™esistenza regolare, normale, come un popolo tra gli altri popoli, uno Stato tra gli altri Stati.

Noi scrittori conosciamo momenti di sconforto  e di scarsa autostima (โ€ฆ). Il nostro lavoro ci porta ripetutamente a essere consapevoli dei nostri limiti, sia come uomini che come artisti. Eppure รจ questa la cosa meravigliosa, lโ€™alchimia che si crea in ciรฒ che facciamo: in un certo senso, nel momento in cui prendiamo in mano la penna, o la tastiera del computer, non siamo piรน vittime impotenti di tutto ciรฒ che ci asserviva, o ci sminuiva, prima che cominciassimo a scrivere. Noi scriviamo, siamo molto fortunati. Il mondo non ci si chiude intorno, non diventa piรน angusto.


Live Virtual Group Session: 12pm EDT July 1st 2020

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

Together we closely looked at the painting Historias de Nuestros Condominios (Stories of our Condos) by Ignacio Iturria, posted below. After a brief moment of silence, during which we centered ourselves in preparationย for our close viewing exercise, we all turned our focus to the painting. One participant noted how viewing the painting was like reading a book: each of the “characters” in the windows opened into a story, the paintingย uniting them all, allowing us to move from one narrative to the other. This participant even noted that there is a dividing line down the center of the painting, like the split between pages of a book. Another viewer was struck by the way the painting’s compositionย creates patterns of repetition and variation that organize all of the characters who exist in the structure. Many participants found the “mood” of the painting to be “devastating,” or “sad,” with one participant noting that they felt “sucked into a vortex of suffering” and another describing it as a “scene of destruction.” Participants also commented on the “texture” of the painting, one viewer sharing that it looked like “unfinished cement.” Another viewer was struck by the “scratches” in the paint, which almost convey the sense of a giant controlling the scene, reminding them of Foucault’s panopticon. This same viewer went on to share that the 4th wall had been removed–that there was a “element of voyeurism” in viewing the painting.

Following our close viewing of the painting, we responded to the prompt, โ€œWrite about a neighbor,โ€ which evoked a wide array of narratives. One person recalled being welcomed to a new neighborhood with a plate of cookies that were delivered by the grandmother of a patient from nine years earlier, and we felt the surprise of reconnection. We also noticed a move from the distanced clinical language of diagnosis at the beginning to the sensory warmth of the baked goods at the end, while the nine years between the two encounters remained a black hole for us and for the clinician. Another writer also began with a womanโ€™s physical ailment โ€“ย in this case, gangrene โ€“ย and then shifted to the action of daughters pinching and pruning before returning to the mother, now looking out to the sky. One participant noticed how a sad story had still managed to evoke nice memories for him personally. A third writer wrote about her neighbors Luminance and Silence, and the parallel growth in the back yard and in the mind. We remarked on the pairing of the visual (Luminance) and the aural (Silence), and how we can compare thoughts to congealed sunlight. Our last writer had a different take on silence, considering the path or paths to salvation. We were reminded of how of late the media have been telling so many stories of immigrants, but we will never know the outcome of those stories; the comment recalled an observation on the first response, about those patients whose outcomes remain a mystery to the clinicians who treat them.

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next session Monday, July 6th at 6pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.

We look forward to seeing you again soon!


Historias de Nuestros Condominios (Stories of our Condos)
Ignacio Iturria (b. 1949, Montevideo, Uruguay)

Live Virtual Group Session: 6pm EDT June 29th 2020

Thank you to everyone who joined us for this session!

Our text was the poem “Heroes” by Rita Dove, posted below.

Our prompt was to begin your writing with the line “it’s too late for apologies…”

More details on this session will be posted soon, so please check back!

Participants are warmly encouraged to share what you wrote below (โ€œLeave a Replyโ€), to keep the conversation going here, bearing in mind that the blog of course is a public space where confidentiality is not assured.

Also, we would love to learn more about your experience of these sessions, so if youโ€™re able, please take the time to fill out a follow-up survey of one to two quick questions!

Please join us for our next sessionย Wednesday, July 1stย at 12pm EDT,ย with more times listed on ourย Live Virtual Group Sessionsย page.

We look forward to seeing you again soon!


Heroes โ€“ Rita Dove

A flower in a weedy field:
make it a poppy. You pick it.
Because it begins to wilt

you run to the nearest house
to ask for a jar of water.
The woman on the porch starts

screaming: youโ€™ve plucked the last poppy
in her miserable garden, the one
that gave her the strength every morning

to rise! Itโ€™s too late for apologies
though you go through the motions, offering
trinkets and a juicy spot in the written history

she wouldnโ€™t live to read, anyway.
So you strike her, she hits
her head on a white boulder

and thereโ€™s nothing to be done
but break the stone into gravel
to prop up the flower in the stolen jar

you have to take along
because youโ€™re a fugitive now
and you canโ€™t leave clues.

Already the storyโ€™s starting to unravel,
the villagers stirring as your heart
pounds into your throat. Why

did you pick that idiot flower?
Because it was the last one
and you knew

it was going to die.


Dove, Rita. "Heroes."ย Callaloo, vol. 18 no. 2, 1995, p. 231-231.ย 
Project MUSE,ย doi:10.1353/cal.1995.0046.

ฮ–ฯ‰ฮฝฯ„ฮฑฮฝฮฎ ฯƒฯ…ฮฝฮตฮดฯฮฏฮฑ ฮฑฯ†ฮทฮณฮทฮผฮฑฯ„ฮนฮบฮฎฯ‚ ฮนฮฑฯ„ฯฮนฮบฮฎฯ‚: ฮšฯ…ฯฮนฮฑฮบฮฎ 28 ฮ™ฮฟฯ…ฮฝฮฏฮฟฯ…, 6 m.m. EEST

ฮฃฮฑฯ‚ ฮตฯ…ฯ‡ฮฑฯฮนฯƒฯ„ฮฟฯฮผฮต ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฯƒฯ…ฮผฮผฮตฯ„ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮฑฯ„ฮต ฯƒฮต ฮฑฯ…ฯ„ฮฎฮฝ ฯ„ฮท ฯƒฯ…ฮฝฮตฮดฯฮฏฮฑ.

ฮคฮฟ ฮบฮตฮฏฮผฮตฮฝฯŒ ฮผฮฑฯ‚ ฮณฮนฮฑ ฯƒฮฎฮผฮตฯฮฑ ฮฎฯ„ฮฑฮฝ: ยซฮ— ฯ€ฮฑฮปฮนฮฌ ฮฑฮฒฯฯŒฯ„ฮทฯ„ฮฑยป (ฮŸฯ…ฮฏฮปฮนฮฑฮผ ฮšฮฌฯฮปฮฟฯ‚ ฮŸฯ…ฮฏฮปฮนฮฑฮผฯ‚, ฮ™ฯƒฯ„ฮฟฯฮฏฮตฯ‚ ฮ•ฮฝฯŒฯ‚ ฮ“ฮนฮฑฯ„ฯฮฟฯ. 1984. ฮœฯ„ฯ†ฯ. ฮ•ฮนฯฮฎฮฝฮท ฮ ฮฑฯ€ฮฑฮธฮฑฮฝฮฑฯƒฮฏฮฟฯ…. ฮ•ฮบฮด. ฮ‘ฯฮผฯŒฯ‚, 2020)

ฮ˜ฮญฮผฮฑ:ย ฮ“ฯฮฌฯˆฯ„ฮต ฮณฮนฮฑ ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฯƒฮบฮฏฯฯ„ฮทฮผฮฑ

ฮฃฯฮฝฯ„ฮฟฮผฮฑ ฮธฮฑ ฮผฮฟฮนฯฮฑฯƒฯ„ฮฟฯฮผฮต ฯ€ฮตฯฮนฯƒฯƒฯŒฯ„ฮตฯฮตฯ‚ ฯ€ฮปฮทฯฮฟฯ†ฮฟฯฮฏฮตฯ‚ ฯƒฯ‡ฮตฯ„ฮนฮบฮฌ ฮผฮต ฮฑฯ…ฯ„ฮฎฮฝ ฯ„ฮท ฯƒฯ…ฮฝฮตฮดฯฮฏฮฑ, ฮณฮน โ€˜ฮฑฯ…ฯ„ฯŒ ฮตฯ€ฮนฯƒฯ„ฯฮญฯˆฯ„ฮต ฮพฮฑฮฝฮฌ.

ฮฃฮฑฯ‚ ฯ€ฯฮฟฯƒฮบฮฑฮปฮฟฯฮผฮต ฮฝฮฑ ฮผฮฟฮนฯฮฑฯƒฯ„ฮตฮฏฯ„ฮต ฯ„ฮฑ ฮณฯฮฑฯ€ฯ„ฮฌ ฯƒฮฑฯ‚ ฮผฮฑฮถฮฏ ฮผฮฑฯ‚ ฯ€ฮฑฯฮฑฮบฮฌฯ„ฯ‰.


ยซฮ— ฯ€ฮฑฮปฮนฮฌ ฮฑฮฒฯฯŒฯ„ฮทฯ„ฮฑยป (ฮŸฯ…ฮฏฮปฮนฮฑฮผ ฮšฮฌฯฮปฮฟฯ‚ ฮŸฯ…ฮฏฮปฮนฮฑฮผฯ‚, ฮ™ฯƒฯ„ฮฟฯฮฏฮตฯ‚ ฮ•ฮฝฯŒฯ‚ ฮ“ฮนฮฑฯ„ฯฮฟฯ. 1984. ฮœฯ„ฯ†ฯ. ฮ•ฮนฯฮฎฮฝฮท ฮ ฮฑฯ€ฮฑฮธฮฑฮฝฮฑฯƒฮฏฮฟฯ…. ฮ•ฮบฮด. ฮ‘ฯฮผฯŒฯ‚, 2020)

ฮ•ฮบฮตฮฏฮฝฮฟ ฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮบฮฑฮนฯฯŒ, ฮฎฮผฮฟฯ…ฮฝ ฮฟ ฮผฯŒฮฝฮฟฯ‚ ฮณฮนฮฑฯ„ฯฯŒฯ‚ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮฑฮฝ ฯƒฯ„ฮฟ ฮ“ฮบฮฏฮฝฮน ฮงฮนฮป. ฮฃฮฎฮผฮตฯฮฑ ฯƒโ€™ ฮฑฯ…ฯ„ฮญฯ‚ ฯ„ฮนฯ‚ ฮณฮตฮนฯ„ฮฟฮฝฮนฮญฯ‚ ฮผฯ€ฮฟฯฮตฮฏ ฮฝฮฑ ฮฑฯƒฮบฮฟฯฮฝ ฯ„ฮทฮฝ ฮนฮฑฯ„ฯฮนฮบฮฎ ฮบฮฌฯ€ฮฟฮนฮฑ ฮฑฯ€โ€™ ฯ„ฮฑ ฯ€ฮฑฮนฮดฮนฮฌ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮญฯ†ฮตฯฮฑ ฯƒฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮบฯŒฯƒฮผฮฟ ฯ„ฯŒฯ„ฮต. ฮ‘ฮปฮปฮฌ ฮตฮบฮตฮฏฮฝฮฟ ฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮบฮฑฮนฯฯŒ ฯ„ฮฟฯฯ‚ ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮฑ ฯŒฮปฮฟฯ…ฯ‚ ฯ€ฮตฮปฮฌฯ„ฮตฯ‚. ฮคฮฟฯ…ฯ‚ ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮฑ ฮฑฮณฮฑฯ€ฮฎฯƒฮตฮน, ฮฎฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฯ€ฮฟฮปฯ ฮตฮฝฯ„ฮฌฮพฮตฮน ฮฌฮฝฮธฯฯ‰ฯ€ฮฟฮน. ฮŸฮน ฯ€ฮตฯฮนฯƒฯƒฯŒฯ„ฮตฯฮฟฮน ฮฎฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฮ™ฯ„ฮฑฮปฮฟฮฏ ฯ‡ฯ‰ฯฮนฮบฮฟฮฏ ฮฑฯ€ฯŒ ฮผฮนฮฑ ฯ€ฮตฯฮนฮฟฯ‡ฮฎ ฮฝฯŒฯ„ฮนฮฑ ฯ„ฮทฯ‚ ฮฮฌฯ€ฮฟฮปฮทฯ‚, ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮถฮฟฯฯƒฮฑฮฝ ฯƒฮต ฮผฮนฮบฯฮฌ, ฯ€ฯฯŒฯ‡ฮตฮนฯฮฑ ฯ‡ฯ„ฮนฯƒฮผฮญฮฝฮฑ ฯƒฯ€ฮฏฯ„ฮนฮฑ โ€“ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮดฮฟฯฮปฮตฯ…ฮฑฮฝ ฯƒฮต ฯŒ,ฯ„ฮน ฮผฯ€ฮฟฯฮฟฯฯƒฮฑฮฝ ฮฝฮฑ ฮฒฯฮฟฯ…ฮฝ ฯ€ฯฮฟฮบฮตฮนฮผฮญฮฝฮฟฯ… ฮฝฮฑ ฮตฯ€ฮนฮฒฮนฯŽฯƒฮฟฯ…ฮฝ ฮบฮฑฮน ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฯ„ฮตฮปฮนฮบฮฌ, ฮผฮต ฮบฮฌฯ€ฮฟฮนฮฟฮฝ ฯ„ฯฯŒฯ€ฮฟ, ฯ„ฮฑ ฮบฮฑฯ„ฮฌฯ†ฮตฯฮฝฮฑฮฝ.

     ฮ‘ฮฝฮฌฮผฮตฯƒฮฑ ฯƒฯ„โ€™ ฮฌฮปฮปฮฑ, ฯ…ฯ€ฮฎฯฯ‡ฮต ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฮผฮนฮบฯฯŒ ฯ€ฯฮฟฮบฮฑฯ„ฮฑฯƒฮบฮตฯ…ฮฑฯƒฮผฮญฮฝฮฟ ฯƒฯ€ฮนฯ„ฮฌฮบฮน, ฮบฮฟฯ…ฯ„ฮฏ ฮธฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟ ฮญฮปฮตฮณฮตฯ‚ ฮบฮฑฮปฯฯ„ฮตฯฮฑ, ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฯ€ฮฌฮฝฯ„ฮฑ ฮผฮฟฯ… ฯ„ฯฮฑฮฒฮฟฯฯƒฮต ฯ„ฮฟ ฮตฮฝฮดฮนฮฑฯ†ฮญฯฮฟฮฝ, ฮฑฮปฮปฮฌ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮดฮตฮฝ ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮต ฯ„ฯฯ‡ฮตฮน ฮฝฮฑ ฮผฯ€ฯ‰ ฮผฮญฯƒฮฑ. ฮฅฯˆฯ‰ฮฝฯŒฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฯƒฯ„ฮท ฮผฮญฯƒฮท ฮตฮฝฯŒฯ‚ ฯƒฯ…ฮฝฮทฮธฮนฯƒฮผฮญฮฝฮฟฯ… ฮผฮนฮบฯฮฟฯ ฮบฮฎฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮบฮฑฮน ฮบฮฑฮผฮนฮฌ ฯ†ฮฟฯฮฌ ฮญฮฒฮปฮตฯ€ฮตฯ‚ ฯƒฯ„ฮทฮฝ ฯ€ฯŒฯฯ„ฮฑ ฮญฮฝฮฑฮฝ ฮทฮปฮนฮบฮนฯ‰ฮผฮญฮฝฮฟ ฮฌฮฝฯ„ฯฮฑ ฮฑฯ€ฮปฯŽฯ‚ ฮฝฮฑ ฯƒฯ„ฮญฮบฮตฯ„ฮฑฮน ฮตฮบฮตฮฏ ฮบฮฑฮน ฮฝฮฑ ฯฮตฮผฮฒฮฌฮถฮตฮน, ฮบฮฑฯ€ฮฝฮฏฮถฮฟฮฝฯ„ฮฑฯ‚ ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฮผฮตฮณฮฌฮปฮฟ ฮบฮฑฮผฯ€ฯ…ฮปฯ‰ฯ„ฯŒ ฮตฯ€ฮฌฯฮณฯ…ฯฮฟ ฯ„ฯƒฮนฮผฯ€ฮฟฯฮบฮน. ฮ•ฮฝฮฝฮฟฮตฮฏฯ„ฮฑฮน ฯŒฯ„ฮน ฮฎฯฮธฮต ฮท ฮผฮญฯฮฑ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮผฯ€ฮฎฮบฮฑ ฮบฮฑฮน ฯƒโ€™ ฮฑฯ…ฯ„ฯŒ ฯ„ฮฟ ฯƒฯ€ฮฏฯ„ฮน.

     ฮœฯŒฮปฮนฯ‚ ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮฑ ฮตฮพฮตฯ„ฮฌฯƒฮตฮน ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฯ€ฮฑฮนฮดฮฏ ฯƒฯ„ฮฟฯ…ฯ‚ ฮ ฮตฯ„ฯฮญฮปฮฟ ฮฎ ฯƒฯ„ฮฟฯ…ฯ‚ ฮ‘ฮปฮผฯ€ฮฏฮฝฮฟ, ฯƒฮต ฮบฮฌฯ€ฮฟฮนฮฟฯ…ฯ‚ ฯ„ฮญฮปฮฟฯ‚ ฯ€ฮฌฮฝฯ„ฯ‰ฮฝ, ฯŒฯ„ฮฑฮฝ, ฯŒฯ€ฯ‰ฯ‚ ฯƒฯ…ฮฝฮญฮฒฮฑฮนฮฝฮต ฯ€ฮฟฮปฯ ฯƒฯ…ฯ‡ฮฝฮฌ, ฯ„ฮทฮฝ ฯŽฯฮฑ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮญฯ†ฮตฯ…ฮณฮฑ ฮท ฮณฯ…ฮฝฮฑฮฏฮบฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฯƒฯ€ฮนฯ„ฮนฮฟฯ ฮผฮต ฯƒฯ„ฮฑฮผฮฌฯ„ฮทฯƒฮต ฯƒฯ„ฮทฮฝ ฯ€ฯŒฯฯ„ฮฑ ฮผโ€™ ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฯ‡ฮฑฮผฯŒฮณฮตฮปฮฟ.

     ฮ“ฮนฮฑฯ„ฯฮญ, ฮธฮญฮปฯ‰ ฮฝฮฑ ฮตฯ€ฮนฯƒฮบฮตฯ†ฮธฮตฮฏฯ‚ ฯ„ฮฟฯ…ฯ‚ ฮทฮปฮนฮบฮนฯ‰ฮผฮญฮฝฮฟฯ…ฯ‚ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮผฮญฮฝฮฟฯ…ฮฝ ฮดฮฏฯ€ฮปฮฑ. ฮ— ฮณฯฮนฮฟฯฮปฮฑ ฮตฮฏฮฝฮฑฮน ฮฌฯฯฯ‰ฯƒฯ„ฮท. ฮ”ฮตฮฝ ฮธฮญฮปฮตฮน ฮฝฮฑ ฮบฮฑฮปฮญฯƒฮตฮน ฮบฮฑฮฝฮญฮฝฮฑฮฝ, ฯ…ฯ€ฮฟฮปฯŒฮณฮนฯƒฮญ ฯ„ฮฟ ฯƒฯ„ฮท ฮดฮนฮบฮฎ ฮผฮฑฯ‚ ฮตฯ€ฮฏฯƒฮบฮตฯˆฮท. ฮคฮทฮฝ ฮฑฮผฮฟฮนฮฒฮฎ ฯƒฮฟฯ… ฮธฮฑ ฯ„ฮทฮฝ ฯ„ฮฑฮบฯ„ฮฟฯ€ฮฟฮนฮฎฯƒฯ‰ ฮตฮณฯŽ ฮบฮฌฯ€ฮฟฮนฮฑ ฯƒฯ„ฮนฮณฮผฮฎ. ฮ˜ฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟ ฮบฮฌฮฝฮตฮนฯ‚ โ€“ ฮณฮนฮฑ ฮผฮญฮฝฮฑ;

     ฮฮฑ ฮผฮทฮฝ ฯ€ฮฎฮณฮฑฮนฮฝฮฑ; ฮ‰ฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฯ€ฯฯ‰ฮนฮฝฯŒ ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฮ™ฮฟฯ…ฮฝฮฏฮฟฯ…. ฮˆฯ€ฯฮตฯ€ฮต ฮฝฮฑ ฮบฮฌฮฝฯ‰ ฮผฯŒฮฝฮฟ ฮปฮฏฮณฮฑ ฮผฮญฯ„ฯฮฑ ฯƒฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮดฯฯŒฮผฮฟ โ€“ ฮผฮต ฯŒฮปฮท ฯ„ฮท ฮธฮญฮฑ ฯ„ฮทฯ‚ ฮฮญฮฑฯ‚ ฮฅฯŒฯฮบฮทฯ‚ ฮฝฮฑ ฮฑฯ€ฮปฯŽฮฝฮตฯ„ฮฑฮน ฮผฯ€ฯฮฟฯƒฯ„ฮฌ ฮผฮฟฯ… ฯ€ฮนฮฟ ฯ€ฮญฯฮฑ ฮฑฯ€โ€™ ฯ„ฮฑ ฮปฮนฮฒฮฌฮดฮนฮฑ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮฑฮฝ ฮฑฯฯ‡ฮฏฯƒฮตฮน ฮฝฮฑ ฯ€ฯฮฑฯƒฮนฮฝฮฏฮถฮฟฯ…ฮฝ  – ฮบฮฑฮน ฮฝฮฑ ฯƒฯ€ฯฯŽฮพฯ‰ ฯ„ฮท ฯ‡ฮฑฮผฮทฮปฮฎ ฯ€ฯŒฯฯ„ฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฮผฮนฮบฯฮฟฯ ฮปฮฑฯ‡ฮฑฮฝฯŒฮบฮทฯ€ฮฟฯ….

     ฮŸ ฮทฮปฮนฮบฮนฯ‰ฮผฮญฮฝฮฟฯ‚ ฮฌฮฝฯ„ฯฮฑฯ‚ ฮผฮฟฯ ฮฌฮฝฮฟฮนฮพฮต ฯ„ฮทฮฝ ฯ€ฯŒฯฯ„ฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฯƒฯ€ฮนฯ„ฮนฮฟฯ ฯ€ฯฮนฮฝ ฯ€ฯฮฟฮปฮฌฮฒฯ‰ ฮฝฮฑ ฯ‡ฯ„ฯ…ฯ€ฮฎฯƒฯ‰. ฮงฮฑฮผฮฟฮณฮตฮปฯŽฮฝฯ„ฮฑฯ‚ ฮบฮฑฮน ฮบฮปฮฏฮฝฮฟฮฝฯ„ฮฑฯ‚ ฯ„ฮฟ ฮบฮตฯ†ฮฌฮปฮน ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฯ€ฮฟฮปฮปฮญฯ‚ ฯ†ฮฟฯฮญฯ‚ ฮฑฯ€ฯŒ ฯƒฮตฮฒฮฑฯƒฮผฯŒ ฯƒฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮณฮนฮฑฯ„ฯฯŒ, ฮผฮฟฯ… ฮญฮดฮตฮนฮพฮต ฯ„ฮฟ ฯ€ฮฌฮฝฯ‰ ฯ€ฮฌฯ„ฯ‰ฮผฮฑ. ฮ”ฮตฮฝ ฮผฮฏฮปฮฑฮณฮต ฮปฮญฮพฮท ฮฑฮณฮณฮปฮนฮบฮฌ ฮบฮน ฮตฮณฯŽ ฮดฮตฮฝ ฮผฮฏฮปฮฑฮณฮฑ ฮนฯ„ฮฑฮปฮนฮบฮฌ, ฮญฯ„ฯƒฮน ฯƒฯ…ฮฝฮตฯ‡ฮฏฯƒฮฑฮผฮต ฮผฮต ฮฝฮฟฮฎฮผฮฑฯ„ฮฑ.

     ฮ‰ฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฯ…ฯ€ฮญฯฮฟฯ‡ฮฟฯ‚. ฮˆฮฝฮฑ ฮตฯ…ฮณฮตฮฝฮนฮบฯŒ, ฮบฮฑฮปฮฟฯ€ฯฮฟฮฑฮฏฯฮตฯ„ฮฟ ฯ€ฮปฮฌฯƒฮผฮฑ, ฯˆฮทฮปฯŒฯ‚ ฯŒฯƒฮฟ ฮบฮฑฮน ฯ„ฮฟ ฯƒฯ€ฮฏฯ„ฮน, ฮผฮต ฮผฮฑฮบฯฮนฮฌ ฮฟฮปฯŒฮปฮตฯ…ฮบฮฑ ฮผฮฑฮปฮปฮนฮฌ ฮบฮฑฮน ฮผฮตฮณฮฌฮปฮฟ ฮฌฯƒฯ€ฯฮฟ ฮผฮฟฯ…ฯƒฯ„ฮฌฮบฮน. ฮšฮฌฮธฮต ฮบฮฏฮฝฮทฯƒฮท ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮญฮบฮฑฮฝฮต ฮฑฮฝฮญฮดฮนฮดฮต ฯ„ฮฟ ฮฌฯฯ‰ฮผฮฑ ฯ„ฮทฯ‚ ฯ€ฮฑฮปฮนฮฌฯ‚ ฮฑฮฒฯฯŒฯ„ฮทฯ„ฮฑฯ‚. ฮœฮฟฯ… ฮตฮฏฯ€ฮต ฮบฮฌฯ€ฮฟฮนฮตฯ‚ ฮปฮญฮพฮตฮนฯ‚ ฯƒฮฑฮฝ ฮฝฮฑ ฮฑฯ€ฮฟฮปฮฟฮณฮฟฯฮฝฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮดฮตฮฝ ฮผฯ€ฮฟฯฮฟฯฯƒฮต ฮฝฮฑ ฮผฮนฮปฮฎฯƒฮตฮน ฮฑฮณฮณฮปฮนฮบฮฌ ฮบฮฑฮน ฮผฮฟฯ… ฮญฮดฮตฮนฮพฮต ฮพฮฑฮฝฮฌ ฯ€ฯฮฟฯ‚ ฯ„ฮฑ ฯ€ฮฌฮฝฯ‰.

     ฮคฮฟ ฮผฮญฯฮฟฯ‚ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฯƒฯ„ฮตฮบฯŒฮผฮฟฯ…ฮฝ ฮฎฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฯŒฮปฮฟ ฮบฮน ฯŒฮปฮฟ ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฮดฯ‰ฮผฮฌฯ„ฮนฮฟ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮต ฮผฮญฯƒฮฑ ฯ„ฮฑ ฯ€ฮฌฮฝฯ„ฮฑ: ฮœฮฑฮณฮตฮฏฯฮตฯ…ฮตฯ‚ ฯƒฯ„ฮท ฮผฮฏฮฑ ฮณฯ‰ฮฝฮฏฮฑ, ฮญฯ„ฯฯ‰ฮณฮตฯ‚ ฮดฮฏฯ€ฮปฮฑ ฮบฮฑฮน ฮบฮฑฮธฯŒฯƒฮฟฯ…ฮฝ ฮฝฮฑ ฯ„ฮฑ ฯ€ฮตฮนฯ‚ ฮผฮต ฯ†ฮฏฮปฮฟฯ…ฯ‚ ฮบฮฑฮน ฯƒฯ…ฮณฮณฮตฮฝฮตฮฏฯ‚ ฯ€ฮฑฯฮฑฮดฮฏฯ€ฮปฮฑ. ฮคฮฑ ฯ€ฮฌฮฝฯ„ฮฑ ฮฎฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฯ€ฮตฮฝฯ„ฮฑฮบฮฌฮธฮฑฯฮฑ ฮบฮฑฮน ฯ…ฯ€ฮฎฯฯ‡ฮต ฮผฮนฮฑ ฮฑฮดฮนฯŒฯฮฑฯ„ฮท ฮผฯ…ฯฯ‰ฮดฮนฮฌ ฮฑฯ€ฯŒ ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฮผฮตฮฏฮณฮผฮฑ ฯƒฮบฯŒฯฮดฮฟฯ…, ฯ€ฮนฯ€ฮตฯฮนฮฌฯ‚ ฮบฮฑฮน ฮตฮปฮฑฮนฯŒฮปฮฑฮดฮฟฯ…, ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฯ„ฮฟ ฯƒฯ…ฮฝฮฑฮฝฯ„ฮฌฯ‚ ฯƒฯ…ฯ‡ฮฝฮฌ ฯƒฯ„ฮฑ ฯƒฯ€ฮฏฯ„ฮนฮฑ ฮฑฮณฯฮฟฯ„ฯŽฮฝ.

ย ย ย ย  ฮฅฯ€ฮฎฯฯ‡ฮต ฮผฯŒฮฝฮฟ ฮฌฮปฮปฮฟ ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฮดฯ‰ฮผฮฌฯ„ฮนฮฟ ฮฑฮบฯฮนฮฒฯŽฯ‚ ฮฑฯ€ฯŒ ฯ€ฮฌฮฝฯ‰. ฮ“ฮนฮฑ ฮฝฮฑ ฮฑฮฝฮตฮฒฮฑฮฏฮฝฮฟฯ…ฮฝ ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮฑฮฝ ฮฒฮฌฮปฮตฮน ฮผฮนฮฑ ฯ†ฮฟฯฮทฯ„ฮฎ ฯƒฮบฮฌฮปฮฑ. ฮ— ฮบฮฑฯ„ฮฑฯ€ฮฑฮบฯ„ฮฎ ฮฎฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฮฑฮฝฮฟฮนฯ‡ฯ„ฮฎ ฮบฮฑฮน ฮท ฯƒฮบฮฌฮปฮฑ ฯƒฯ„ฮท ฮธฮญฯƒฮท ฯ„ฮทฯ‚. ฮ‘ฮฝฮญฮฒฮทฮบฮฑ. ฮŸ ฮทฮปฮนฮบฮนฯ‰ฮผฮญฮฝฮฟฯ‚ ฮฌฮฝฯ„ฯฮฑฯ‚ ฮญฮผฮตฮนฮฝฮต ฮบฮฌฯ„ฯ‰.

ฮคฮน ฯƒฮบฮฏฯฯ„ฮทฮผฮฑ! ฮฅฯ€ฮฎฯฯ‡ฮต ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฯ„ฮตฯฮฌฯƒฯ„ฮนฮฟ ฮบฯฮตฮฒฮฌฯ„ฮน ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮญฮผฮฟฮนฮฑฮถฮต ฮฝฮฑ ฯ€ฮนฮฌฮฝฮตฮน ฯƒฯ‡ฮตฮดฯŒฮฝ ฯŒฮปฮฟ ฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฯ‡ฯŽฯฮฟ ฮบฮน ฮฏฯƒฯ‰ฯ‚ ฮผฮฏฮฑ ฮฎ ฮดฯฮฟ ฮบฮฑฯฮญฮบฮปฮตฯ‚ ฮดฮฏฯ€ฮปฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟฯ…, ฮบฮฑฮฝฮญฮฝฮฑ ฮฌฮปฮปฮฟ ฮญฯ€ฮนฯ€ฮปฮฟ, ฮบฮฑฮน ฯƒฯ„ฮฟ ฮบฯฮตฮฒฮฌฯ„ฮน, ฮฒฮฟฯ…ฮปฮนฮฑฮณฮผฮญฮฝฮท ฮผฮญฯƒฮฑ ฯƒฯ„ฮฟ ฮผฮฑฮปฮฑฮบฯŒ ฯƒฯ„ฯฯŽฮผฮฑ ฮบฮฑฮน ฯƒฮบฮตฯ€ฮฑฯƒฮผฮญฮฝฮท ฮผโ€™ ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฮตฮพฮฑฮนฯฮตฯ„ฮนฮบฯŒ ฯ€ฮฟฯ…ฯ€ฮฟฯ…ฮปฮญฮฝฮนฮฟ ฯ€ฮฌฯ€ฮปฯ‰ฮผฮฑ, ฮฎฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฮพฮฑฯ€ฮปฯ‰ฮผฮญฮฝฮท ฮท ฮณฯ…ฮฝฮฑฮฏฮบฮฑ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮผโ€™ ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮฑฮฝ ฮบฮฑฮปฮญฯƒฮตฮน ฮฝฮฑ ฮดฯ‰.

     ฮคฮฟ ฯ€ฯฯŒฯƒฯ‰ฯ€ฯŒ ฯ„ฮทฯ‚ ฮฎฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฯƒฯ„ฮตฮณฮฝฯŒ ฮบฮฑฮน ฯ‡ฮฑฯฮฑฮบฯ‰ฮผฮญฮฝฮฟ ฮฑฯ€ฯŒ ฯฯ…ฯ„ฮฏฮดฮตฯ‚, ฯŒฯ€ฯ‰ฯ‚ ฯŒฮปฮฑ ฯ„ฮฑ ฯ€ฯฯŒฯƒฯ‰ฯ€ฮฑ ฯ„ฯ‰ฮฝ ฮณฮญฯฯ‰ฮฝ ฯ‡ฯ‰ฯฮนฮบฯŽฮฝ, ฮฑฮปฮปฮฌ ฮฑฮบฯ„ฮนฮฝฮฟฮฒฮฟฮปฮฟฯฯƒฮต ฮผฮต ฯ„ฮฟ ฮฏฮดฮนฮฟ ฯ…ฯ€ฮฟฮผฮฟฮฝฮตฯ„ฮนฮบฯŒ ฯ‡ฮฑฮผฯŒฮณฮตฮปฮฟ ฯƒฮฑฮฝ ฮตฮบฮตฮฏฮฝฮฟ ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฯƒฯ…ฮถฯฮณฮฟฯ… ฯ„ฮทฯ‚. ฮ›ฮตฯ…ฮบฮฌ ฮผฮฑฮปฮปฮนฮฌ ฯƒฯ„ฮฟ ฯ€ฮปฮฟฯฯƒฮนฮฟ ฯ‡ฯฯŽฮผฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฮฑฯƒฮทฮผฮนฮฟฯ ฯ€ฮปฮฑฮนฯƒฮฏฯ‰ฮฝฮฑฮฝ ฯ„ฮฟ ฯ€ฯฯŒฯƒฯ‰ฯ€ฯŒ ฯ„ฮทฯ‚, ฮบฮฑฮน ฯƒฮต ฮผฮญฮฝฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟฯ…ฮปฮฌฯ‡ฮนฯƒฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮดฮตฮฝ ฯ†ฮฑฮนฮฝฯŒฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฮบฮฑฮธฯŒฮปฮฟฯ… ฮฌฯฯฯ‰ฯƒฯ„ฮท.

     ฮ•ฮฏฯ€ฮต ฮปฮฏฮณฮตฯ‚ ฮปฮญฮพฮตฮนฯ‚ ฯ‡ฮฑฮผฮฟฮณฮตฮปฯŽฮฝฯ„ฮฑฯ‚, ฮฑฯ€โ€™ ฯ„ฮนฯ‚ ฮฟฯ€ฮฟฮฏฮตฯ‚ ฮบฮฑฯ„ฮฌฮปฮฑฮฒฮฑ ฯŒฯ„ฮน ฮดฮตฮฝ ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮต ฯ„ฮฏฯ€ฮฟฯ„ฮฑ ฮบฮฑฮน ฯŒฯ„ฮน ฮฎฮพฮตฯฮต ฯ€ฯ‰ฯ‚ ฮดฮตฮฝ ฯ‡ฯฮตฮนฮฑฮถฯŒฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฮณฮนฮฑฯ„ฯฯŒ ฮบฮฑฮน ฯŒฯ„ฮน ฮธฮฑ ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮต ฯƒฮทฮบฯ‰ฮธฮตฮฏ ฯ€ฯฮฟ ฯ€ฮฟฮปฮปฮฟฯ โ€“ ฮฟฮน ฮปฮญฮพฮตฮนฯ‚ ฮฑฯ…ฯ„ฯŒ ฮตฮฝฮฝฮฟฮฟฯฯƒฮฑฮฝ โ€“ ฮฑฮฝ ฮฟฮน ฮฌฮปฮปฮฟฮน ฮดฮตฮฝ ฮตฯ€ฮญฮผฮตฮฝฮฑฮฝ. ฮ‘ฯ†ฮฟฯ ฮฌฮบฮฟฯ…ฯƒฮฑ ฯ„ฮทฮฝ ฮบฮฑฯฮดฮนฮฌ ฯ„ฮทฯ‚ ฮบฮฑฮน ฯˆฮทฮปฮฌฯ†ฮนฯƒฮฑ ฯ„ฮทฮฝ ฮบฮฟฮนฮปฮนฮฌ ฯ„ฮทฯ‚, ฯ„ฮทฯ‚ ฮตฮฏฯ€ฮฑ ฯŒฯ„ฮน ฮฑฮฝ ฮฎฮธฮตฮปฮต ฮผฯ€ฮฟฯฮฟฯฯƒฮต ฮฝฮฑ ฯƒฮทฮบฯ‰ฮธฮตฮฏ โ€“ ฯ‡ฮฑฮนฯฮญฯ„ฮทฯƒฮฑ ฮบฮฑฮน, ฯ€ฯฮนฮฝ ฯ€ฯฮฟฮปฮฌฮฒฯ‰ ฮฝฮฑ ฮณฯ…ฯฮฏฯƒฯ‰ ฯ€ฯฮฟฯ‚ ฯ„ฮท ฯƒฮบฮฌฮปฮฑ, ฮฑฯ…ฯ„ฮฎ ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮต ฮฎฮดฮท ฮฑฯฯ‡ฮฏฯƒฮตฮน ฮฝฮฑ ฮตฯ„ฮฟฮนฮผฮฌฮถฮตฯ„ฮฑฮน.

     ฮŸ ฮทฮปฮนฮบฮนฯ‰ฮผฮญฮฝฮฟฯ‚ ฮฌฮฝฯ„ฯฮฑฯ‚ ฮผฮต ฯ€ฮตฯฮฏฮผฮตฮฝฮต ฮบฮฌฯ„ฯ‰. ฮ ฮตฯฯ€ฮฑฯ„ฮฎฯƒฮฑฮผฮต ฮผฮญฯ‡ฯฮน ฯ„ฮทฮฝ ฯ€ฯŒฯฯ„ฮฑ ฮผฮฑฮถฮฏ, ฮตฮณฯŽ ฮฝฮฑ ฯ€ฯฮฟฯƒฯ€ฮฑฮธฯŽ ฮฝฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฮตฮพฮทฮณฮฎฯƒฯ‰ ฯ„ฮน ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮฑ ฯƒฯ…ฮผฯ€ฮตฯฮฌฮฝฮตฮน ฮฑฯ€โ€™ ฯ„ฮทฮฝ ฮตฮพฮญฯ„ฮฑฯƒฮท ฮบฮน ฮฑฯ…ฯ„ฯŒฯ‚ ฮฝฮฑ ฯ…ฯ€ฮฟฮบฮปฮฏฮฝฮตฯ„ฮฑฮน ฮบฮฑฮน ฮฝฮฑ ฮปฮญฮตฮน ฮบฮฌฮฝฮฑ ฮดฯ…ฮฟ ฮปฮญฮพฮตฮนฯ‚ ฯƒฯ„ฮฑ ฮนฯ„ฮฑฮปฮนฮบฮฌ ฮณฮนฮฑ ฮฑฯ€ฮฌฮฝฯ„ฮทฯƒฮท. ฮšฮฑฯ„ฮฌฮปฮฑฮฒฮฑ ฯŒฯ„ฮน ฮผฮต ฮตฯ…ฯ‡ฮฑฯฮนฯƒฯ„ฮฟฯฯƒฮต ฮณฮนฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮบฯŒฯ€ฮฟ ฮผฮฟฯ… ฮบฮฑฮน ฯŒฯ„ฮน ฮปฯ…ฯ€ฯŒฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮดฮตฮฝ ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮต ฮปฮตฯ†ฯ„ฮฌ, ฮบฮฑฮน ฯ„ฮฑ ฮปฮฟฮนฯ€ฮฌ ฮบฮฑฮน ฯ„ฮฑ ฮปฮฟฮนฯ€ฮฌ.

     ฮฃฯ„ฮฑฮผฮฑฯ„ฮฎฯƒฮฑฮผฮต ฯƒฯ„ฮฟ ฯ€ฮฟฯฯ„ฮฌฮบฮน ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฮบฮฎฯ€ฮฟฯ…, ฮฑฮฝฯ„ฮนฮผฮญฯ„ฯ‰ฯ€ฮฟฮน ฮผโ€™ ฮตฮบฮตฮฏฮฝฮตฯ‚ ฯ„ฮนฯ‚ ฮฌฮฒฮฟฮปฮตฯ‚ ฯƒฯ„ฮนฮณฮผฮญฯ‚ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฯ€ฮฑฯฮตฮผฮฒฮฌฮปฮปฮฟฮฝฯ„ฮฑฮน ฮบฮฑฮผฮนฮฌ ฯ†ฮฟฯฮฌ ฯƒฯ„ฮท ฯƒฯ…ฮถฮฎฯ„ฮทฯƒฮท ฮผฮตฯ„ฮฑฮพฯ ฮดฯ…ฮฟ ฮฑฮณฮฝฯŽฯƒฯ„ฯ‰ฮฝ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฮธฮญฮปฮฟฯ…ฮฝ ฮฝฮฑ ฮบฮฌฮฝฮฟฯ…ฮฝ ฮบฮฑฮปฮฎ ฮตฮฝฯ„ฯฯ€ฯ‰ฯƒฮท ฮฟ ฮญฮฝฮฑฯ‚ ฯƒฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮฌฮปฮปฮฟ. ฮšฮฑฮธฯŽฯ‚ ฯƒฯ„ฮตฮบฯŒฮผฮฑฯƒฯ„ฮต ฮตฮบฮตฮฏ ฯ€ฮญฯฮฑ ฮฑฮผฮฎฯ‡ฮฑฮฝฮฟฮน, ฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮตฮฏฮดฮฑ ฮฝฮฑ ฮฒฮฌฮถฮตฮน ฯ„ฮฟ ฯ‡ฮญฯฮน ฯƒฯ„ฮทฮฝ ฯ„ฯƒฮญฯ€ฮท ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฮณฮนฮปฮญฮบฮฟฯ… ฯ„ฮฟฯ…, ฮฝฮฑ ฯ€ฮฑฮฏฯฮฝฮตฮน ฮบฮฌฯ„ฮน ฮฑฯ€ฯŒ ฮบฮตฮน ฮบฮฑฮน ฮฝฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟ ฯ„ฮตฮฏฮฝฮตฮน ฯ€ฯฮฟฯ‚ ฮตฮผฮญฮฝฮฑ.

     ฮ‰ฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฮผฮนฮบฯฯŒ ฮฑฯƒฮทฮผฮญฮฝฮนฮฟ ฮบฮฟฯ…ฯ„ฮฏ, ฮผฮฑฮบฯฯ ฮณฯฯฯ‰ ฯƒฯ„ฮฑ ฯ„ฯฮฏฮฑ ฮตฮบฮฑฯ„ฮฟฯƒฯ„ฮฌ ฮบฮน ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฮตฮบฮฑฯ„ฮฟฯƒฯ„ฯŒ ฯ€ฮฑฯ‡ฯ. ฮฃฯ„ฮฟ ฮบฮฑฯ€ฮฌฮบฮน ฮฎฯ„ฮฑฮฝ ฯ‡ฮฑฯฮฑฮณฮผฮญฮฝฮท ฮท ฮฑฮฝฮฌฮณฮปฯ…ฯ†ฮท ฯ†ฮนฮณฮฟฯฯฮฑ ฮผฮนฮฑฯ‚ ฮณฯ…ฮฝฮฑฮฏฮบฮฑฯ‚ ฮพฮฑฯ€ฮปฯ‰ฮผฮญฮฝฮทฯ‚ ฮผฮญฯƒฮฑ ฯƒฯ„ฮฑ ฮปฮฟฯ…ฮปฮฟฯฮดฮนฮฑ. ฮคฮฟ ฯ€ฮฎฯฮฑ ฯƒฯ„ฮฟ ฯ‡ฮญฯฮน ฮผฮฟฯ…, ฮฑฮปฮปฮฌ ฮดฮตฮฝ ฮผฯ€ฮฟฯฮฟฯฯƒฮฑ ฮฝฮฑ ฯ†ฮฑฮฝฯ„ฮฑฯƒฯ„ฯŽ ฯ„ฮน ฮฎฮธฮตฮปฮต ฮฝฮฑ ฮบฮฌฮฝฯ‰ ฮผโ€™ ฮฑฯ…ฯ„ฯŒ. ฮœฮฟฯ… ฯ„ฮฟ ฯ‡ฮฌฯฮนฮถฮต;

     ฮ’ฮปฮญฯ€ฮฟฮฝฯ„ฮฌฯ‚ ฮผฮต ฮผฯ€ฮตฯฮดฮตฮผฮญฮฝฮฟ, ฮฌฯ€ฮปฯ‰ฯƒฮต ฯ„ฮฟ ฯ‡ฮญฯฮน ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฯ€ฮฟฮปฯ ฮฑฯ€ฮฑฮปฮฌ ฮบฮน ฮตฯ…ฮณฮตฮฝฮนฮบฮฌ ฮฝฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟ ฮถฮทฯ„ฮฎฯƒฮตฮน ฯ€ฮฏฯƒฯ‰ ฮบฮน ฮตฮณฯŽ ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฯ„ฮฟ ฮพฮฑฮฝฮฑฮญฮดฯ‰ฯƒฮฑ. ฮคฮฟ ฯ€ฮฎฯฮต ฮบฮฑฮน ฯ„ฮฟ ฮฌฮฝฮฟฮนฮพฮต. ฮคฮฟ ฮบฮฟฯ…ฯ„ฮฌฮบฮน ฯ€ฮตฯฮนฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮต ฮบฮฌฯ„ฮน ฯƒฮฑฮฝ ฮบฮฑฯ†ฮญ ฯƒฮบฯŒฮฝฮท. ฮคฮฟฮฝ ฮตฮฏฮดฮฑ ฮฝฮฑ ฯ€ฮฑฮฏฯฮฝฮตฮน ฮปฮฏฮณฮท ฮฑฯ€โ€™ ฮฑฯ…ฯ„ฮฎ ฮผฮต ฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮดฮตฮฏฮบฯ„ฮท ฮบฮฑฮน ฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮฑฮฝฯ„ฮฏฯ‡ฮตฮนฯฮฑ, ฮฝฮฑ ฯ„ฮท ฮฒฮฌฮถฮตฮน ฯƒฯ„ฮท ฮฒฮฌฯƒฮท ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฮฑฮฝฯ„ฮฏฯ‡ฮตฮนฯฮฑ ฮบฮฑฮนโ€ฆ

ฮœฮฑ ฮฒฮญฮฒฮฑฮนฮฑ, ฯ„ฮฑฮผฯ€ฮฌฮบฮฟ! ฮฆฯ…ฯƒฮนฮบฮฌ. ฮ•ฮฝฮธฮฟฯ…ฯƒฮนฮฌฯƒฯ„ฮทฮบฮฑ.

     ฮšฮฑฮธฯŽฯ‚ ฯฮฟฯฯ†ฮฑฮณฮต ฮผฮนฮฑ ฮณฮตฮฝฮฝฮฑฮนฯŒฮดฯ‰ฯฮท ฯ€ฯฮญฮถฮฑ ฯƒฮบฯŒฮฝฮทฯ‚ ฯ€ฯฯŽฯ„ฮฑ ฮฑฯ€โ€™ ฯ„ฮฟ ฮญฮฝฮฑ ฯฮฟฯ…ฮธฮฟฯฮฝฮน ฮบฮฑฮน ฮผฮตฯ„ฮฌ ฮฑฯ€โ€™ ฯ„ฮฟ ฮฌฮปฮปฮฟ, ฮผฮฟฯ… ฯ€ฯฯŒฯƒฯ†ฮตฯฮต ฯ€ฮฏฯƒฯ‰ ฯ„ฮฟ ฮบฮฟฯ…ฯ„ฮฏ โ€“ ฯ€ฮฟฯ„ฮญ ฯƒฯ„ฮท ฮถฯ‰ฮฎ ฮผฮฟฯ… ฮดฮตฮฝ ฮตฮฏฯ‡ฮฑ ฯ€ฮฌฯฮตฮน ฮผฮญฯฮฟฯ‚ ฯƒฮต ฮผฮนฮฑ ฮดฮนฮฑฮดฮนฮบฮฑฯƒฮฏฮฑ ฯ„ฯŒฯƒฮฟ ฮตฮบฮปฮตฯ€ฯ„ฯ…ฯƒฮผฮญฮฝฮท ฮบฮน ฮตฯ…ฮณฮตฮฝฮนฮบฮฎ.

     ฮ ฯฮฟฯƒฯ€ฮฑฮธฯŽฮฝฯ„ฮฑฯ‚ ฮฝฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮผฮนฮผฮทฮธฯŽ ฯŒฯƒฮฟ ฮบฮฑฮปฯฯ„ฮตฯฮฑ ฮผฯ€ฮฟฯฯŽ, ฮผฮฟฮนฯฮฌฯƒฯ„ฮทฮบฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟ ฯ„ฮฑฮผฯ€ฮฌฮบฮฟ ฮผฮฑฮถฮฏ ฯ„ฮฟฯ… ฮบฮฑฮน ฮณฮนฮฑ ฮผฮนฮฑ ฯƒฯ„ฮนฮณฮผฮฎ ฮบฯŒฮฝฯ„ฮตฯˆฮฑ ฮฝฮฑ ฯ€ฮตฮธฮฌฮฝฯ‰. ฮ”ฮตฮฝ ฮผฯ€ฮฟฯฮฟฯฯƒฮฑ ฮฝฮฑ ฯƒฯ„ฮฑฮผฮฑฯ„ฮฎฯƒฯ‰ ฮฝฮฑ ฯ†ฯ„ฮฑฯฮฝฮฏฮถฮฟฮผฮฑฮน. ฮฆฮฑฮฝฯ„ฮฌฮถฮฟฮผฮฑฮน ฯ€ฯ‰ฯ‚ ฯฮฟฯฯ†ฮทฮพฮฑ ฮปฮฏฮณฮฟ ฯ€ฮนฮฟ ฮดฯ…ฮฝฮฑฯ„ฮฌ ฮฑฯ€โ€™ ฯŒฯƒฮฟ ฮญฯ€ฯฮตฯ€ฮต. ฮœฮต ฯ„ฮฑ ฮผฮฌฯ„ฮนฮฑ ฮผฮฟฯ… ฮธฮฟฮปฮฌ ฮฑฯ€โ€™ ฯ„ฮฑ ฮดฮฌฮบฯฯ…ฮฑ, ฮญฮฝฮนฯ‰ฯƒฮฑ ฯ„ฮฟฮฝ ฮทฮปฮนฮบฮนฯ‰ฮผฮญฮฝฮฟ ฮฌฮฝฯ„ฯฮฑ ฮฝฮฑ ฯƒฯ„ฮญฮบฮตฯ„ฮฑฮน ฮตฮบฮตฮฏ ฯ‡ฮฑฮผฮฟฮณฮตฮปฯŽฮฝฯ„ฮฑฯ‚, ฮผฮนฮฑ ฮตฮผฯ€ฮตฮนฯฮฏฮฑ ฯ€ฮฟฯ… ฯ€ฮฑฯฯŒฮผฮฟฮนฮฌ ฯ„ฮทฯ‚ ฮดฮตฮฝ ฮธฮฑ ฮพฮฑฮฝฮฑฮถฮฎฯƒฯ‰ ฯ€ฮฟฯ„ฮญ ฯŒฯƒฮฟ ฯ€ฮฑฯ„ฮฌฯ‰ ฯ„ฮฑ ฯ€ฯŒฮดฮนฮฑ ฮผฮฟฯ… ฯ€ฮฌฮฝฯ‰ ฯƒโ€™ ฮฑฯ…ฯ„ฮฎ ฯ„ฮทฮฝ ฮฌฯ‡ฮฑฯฮท ฯƒฯ†ฮฑฮฏฯฮฑ.


Encuentros virtuales en vivo: sรกbado 27 junio, 14:00 EST

Tuvimos nuestra segunda sesiรณn en espaรฑol resultรณ muy enriquecedora! Atendieron 20 participantes en total, representando a estados locales (incluyendo NJ y NY) y otros paรญses (incluyendo Chile, Espaรฑa, Argentina, Uruguay, Reino Unido y Repรบblica Dominicana). Para varios de los participantes รฉste era su primer acercamiento a la Medicina Narrativa.

Nuestro texto fue โ€œAlma Ausenteโ€ de Federico Garcรญa Lorca, publicado a continuaciรณn. Dos lectores leyeron el poema en voz alta. La conversaciรณn alrededor del poema fue muy filosรณfica y diversa, para algunos el poema reflejaba โ€œpresenciaโ€ a pesar de su tรญtulo. Para otros, el poema fue entendido como una autรฉntica โ€œoda a la muerte,โ€ en que el objeto del poema, no es una persona, sino la propia muerte. La muerte siguiรณ siendo parte importante de la conversaciรณn, pues a varios les permitiรณ reflexionar acerca de lo mucho que se evita hablar de la muerte hoy en dรญa, en contraposiciรณn a la idea de que la muerte es parte de la vida, y que algunos reforzaron con la idea de que โ€œestoy feliz de lo que me dejaste.โ€

Al mirar mรกs detalladamente el poema, varios notaron que las primeras estrofas relacionaban la muerte con el olvido, como una queja, mientras que las รบltimas la mostrarรญan como un โ€œregalo.โ€ A raiz de esto, varios participantes vieron el poema como un equilibrio entre distintos aspectos o matices de la muerte. Sin embargo, para otros, el poema presentaba cierto desequilibrio, siendo mรกs predominantes los aspectos mรกs negativos de la muerte. Un participante pudo โ€œleerโ€ a lo largo del poema distintas etapas del duelo, desde la depresiรณn a la aceptaciรณn.

Al preguntar por los โ€œรกnimosโ€ presentes en el texto, algunos participantes reconocieron la pena, mientras que otros se vieron mรกs movidos por la amargura e incluso la dureza. Algunos reconocieron que el poema habรญa sido hermรฉtico para ellos, y que sรณlo la participaciรณn de otros fue lo que posibilitรณ el โ€œabrirโ€ el poema para ellos.ย ย ย 

De este modo, propusimos para la escritura โ€œEscribe un โ€˜cantoโ€™ de la muerte.โ€ Varios participantes compartieron sus escritos, inspirando una rica variedad de respuestas de los oyentes.ย En general, los textos fueron escritos โ€œa la sombra del texto original,โ€ lo que generรณ un ambiente de continuidad con la conversaciรณn previa. La muerte fue representada como algo inevitable y necesario, sin la que se hace mรกs difรญcil valorar la vida. Una de las participantes escribiรณ una autรฉntica oda a la muerte, en que se presenta a la muerte como una entidad que estรก cumpliendo su trabajo, pero sin que necesariamente lo disfrute, al contrario, pareciendo que โ€œsufreโ€ al hacer su trabajo. Otro participante escribiรณ en su texto que la muerte es alguien a quien le encantarรญa conocer, lo que sin duda generรณ varios comentarios y reflexiones. En general, la visiรณn de la muerte que saliรณ representada en los textos fue muy positiva, en contraposiciรณn al tono general del poema de Lorca. ยกSin duda, se hizo corto el tiempo!ย ย 

Se alienta a los participantes a compartir lo que escribieron a continuaciรณn (“Deja una respuesta”), para mantener la conversaciรณn aquรญ, teniendo en cuenta que el blog, por supuesto, es un espacio pรบblico donde no se garantiza la confidencialidad.

Por favor, รบnase a nosotros para nuestra prรณxima sesiรณn en espaรฑol: Sรกbado, 18 de julio a las 2 pm EST, con mรกs veces listadas en inglรฉs en nuestra pรกgina de sesiones grupales virtuales en vivo.

Se alienta a los participantes a compartir lo que escribieron a continuaciรณn (โ€œDeja una respuestaโ€), para mantener la conversaciรณn aquรญ, teniendo en cuenta que el blog, por supuesto, es un espacio pรบblico donde no se garantiza la confidencialidad.

ยกEsperamos verte pronto!


Alma Ausente
de Federico Garcรญa Lorca

No te conoce el toro ni la higuera,
ni caballos ni hormigas de tu casa.
No te conoce el niรฑo ni la tarde
porque te has muerto para siempre.

No te conoce el lomo de la piedra,
ni el raso negro donde te destrozas.
No te conoce tu recuerdo mudo
porque te has muerto para siempre.

El otoรฑo vendrรก con caracolas,
uva de niebla y montes agrupados,
pero nadie querrรก mirar tus ojos
porque te has muerto para siempre.

Porque te has muerto para siempre,
como todos los muertos de la Tierra,
como todos los muertos que se olvidan
en un montรณn de perros apagados.

No te conoce nadie. No. Pero yo te canto.
Yo canto para luego tu perfil y tu gracia.
La madurez insigne de tu conocimiento.
Tu apetencia de muerte y el gusto de su boca.
La tristeza que tuvo tu valiente alegrรญa.

Tardarรก mucho tiempo en nacer, si es que nace, 
un andaluz tan claro, tan rico de aventura.
Yo canto su elegancia con palabras que gimen 
y recuerdo una brisa triste por los olivos.