Month: May 2022
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Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feelings as to sight?
I feel fine today; I feel fine most days, but what does that actually mean? Who, or more probably what, is it that feels fine? The words of Virginia Woolf, in her essay On Being Ill haunt me at times like this: ‘All day, all night the body intervenes; blunts or sharpens, colours or discolours,…
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Words, words, words!
I can’t remember when it first became evident to me that my mind was not alone in the universe I occupied; perhaps it wasn’t immediately clear to me that others, too, had thoughts and that they may well be different from my own. The Theory of Mind, as it’s now called, develops early in childhood…
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The web of our life is of a mingled yarn
I’m getting old now and although I don’t regret the slow accumulation of the lately-wilting years, I’ve noticed that a lot of people do -or at least say they do. I’m not sure how well they’ve thought it through, however; even if they somehow managed to continue their lives in a candy shop, they’d soon…
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We have seen better days
Things seem to change so quickly nowadays, don’t they? Of course we often grow impatient if they don’t; we expect a channel to change as soon as we press the button, the Google result to appear immediately; waiting for the red light to turn green at an intersection seems to take far too long. We…
musingsonwomenshealth.com 