Нашр шудааст: 21.02.2021
In the past few weeks I have been very busy and my muse is in quarantine, so I couldn't think of a suitable topic for a blog entry. Therefore, this text is about the maturing of wise thoughts and actions. After all, a pimple on the face also needs time until it is beautifully white with pus, so that it can be squeezed out without much effort. If you interfere with your blackhead too early, it usually ends in an unappetizing massacre on your face, which will remind you of your impatience for days. Life has taught me that forced actions, although presented as very reasonable by my Mahut in the attic, usually end in disaster. As we all know, timing combined with intuition is everything. I could tell some anecdotes from my life where the wrong timing threw me off like a horse throwing off its unwelcome rider. While my life resembles a wild rafting trip on a raging mountain stream, I think of a colleague whose life seems to resemble a rubber boat trip on the Linth Canal. Studies, a bit of travel, a good job, the best man, two lovely children and a little house in the countryside with cattle. Maybe she has figured out the art of matured time and perfect timing, but still, I wouldn't want to exchange my daily chaos with her.
If you rely only on the perfect timing, there is a danger that you won't move at all. As an avid ski tourer, but suffering from a fear of falling, I attribute the supposedly imperfect conditions at the summit to my fear. Sometimes you just have to tighten your butt cheeks and push off. Like many things in life, it's all about balance.
Meanwhile, this text has also matured and hopefully the touch of wisdom in it has not turned into a shallow puddle.