Kalianna mou, another year and still unrest is visibly your adversary. A bedfellow who permits you not sleep, and in the daylight hours seeks you out like a gadfly. Only tis not Socrates that would have you awaken to the slumbers of a herd-like existence. The curvatures of your being are too complex for the innocence of your sensibilities that whisper: “Mommy?”

“I am too intelligent, too demanding, and too resourceful for anyone to be able to take charge of me entirely. No one knows me or loves me completely. I have only myself.” Simone de Beauvoir might have known you just a little. Her words often fall from your lips. Though not emancipatory when spoken by you. 18 never was so old! A plague of the Gen Zs who have it easier than us baby boomers, but for all that, the baggage that has been hurled your way has amassed fears and an alarming sense of exposure. Things just don’t roll off your back; everything is an issue; everything is complicated; everything is an affront on you. When Epictetus’s words finally find a foothold you might better take charge in a manner that designs a life of quietude. For as he has famously said in his Enchiridion: “It is not events that disturb people, it is their judgements concerning them.”

Happy birthday, my precious girl!

One thought on “MY DAUGHTER

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  1. That’s so beautiful… maybe the world would be a better place if we all take the time to write wishes from within.
    wishing her all the best!



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