Balint Journal 2003; 4(4): 101-108
DOI: 10.1055/s-2003-45178
© Georg Thieme Verlag Stuttgart · New York

Climbing to Delphi

A. M. Lazar1
  • 1Bucuresti, Romania
Further Information

Publication History

Publication Date:
02 January 2004 (online)

Existential Prologue

At the beginnings of life, the Painter created beauty-he wisely played with colors, he devised nuances, he combined them and he created a unique picture - alive, full of light, full of soul. In the ring dance of life, green, yellow, white, blue and what not cheerful and blushed nuances became chained, listening to the sound of music and laughing unhindered as the immortal goddesses of Earth. Seeing them, the Painter thought that these little girls of him won’t learn a thing bathing all day in the sun that they are too superficial and, looking at them, they seemed too off-color, too alike. Then, on the palette, he threw the strong, glossy, infernal black, smiling grotesque and chasing them, he caught them in his net allowing them to live, but under his kingdom. That moment Painter smiled, knowing that his creation was perfect, it was not unilateral, but full of contrast; the cheerful and slothful colors were left to fight for life, for existence. Beauty exists only in contrast with grotesque, light can smile only in contrast with darkness, life worths to be lived because it is afraid of death. The earth clock tells us to hurry, because our existence here is limited.

There are many people, but much more illnesses. We look around and we see people that suffer, dying people. And we rejoice that we aren’t those ones, that not our relatives are the struggling ones now. Maybe some of us think that it is our merit, because we approached a correct attitude of life. But be sure-everyone has his cross, everyone will be caught by one or more arms of the black and he will be devoured; everyone has his suffering and death. I never feared for my own death, because once dead the mechanisms of regret disappear. Even some times, death is benefactor, because it kills pain. But sometimes, the instinct of conservation, of survival of man is so strong that pain doesn’t count anymore as long as human lives. The sick, no matter how suffering, catches of the slightest hope, of the slightest illusion with frenzy. Medicine can’t kill death, but sometimes it can suppress pain, it gives hope, other times it prolongs life, other times it provokes pain in the name of some rigid medical principles that sometimes prove to be against this being with such a fragile mechanism, so easy to wear out; once damaged, whatever you will do, you can’t bring it to that initial integrity, to that unity that functions without knowing its secret - the element that made all the machinery work, the initial impulse.

Lazar Angela Madalina

Str. Calea Rahovei Nr. 321, bl. 28

Sc. C, et. 8, a. 95, sect. 5

764231 Bucuresti