Review of Animated Motion-Picture Flow

The depth of myths, the diversity of species and photo-realistic environment flow together directed by the primordial language of emotions to reach one common goal - survival. The film takes us on a journey from a sculptor’s workshop, the cradle of the Cat’s World, to Lemuria, the legendary land destined to be submerged. Outstanding animation brings to life river banks familiar to every Latvian, passes Venetian-like landscape and arrives at a Disney castle/ New York skyline-like gate of tall rocks, a magic portal that leads to paradise.

The main quintet of characters consists of a cat forced by flood to leave her home, a neighbouring dog separated from his pack, a bird who risks everything to befriend the cat, a capybara who’s found the Noah’s ark, and a treasure-hunting lemur who joins the voyage into the Unknown. Far from humanising animals, which is typical in animation, Latvian film director Gints Zilbalodis lets the animals keep their animal shape and, more importantly, voice. Yes, that’s right! All the voice talents in the film are animal sounds and bird songs. Serene, quarrelling, scared, possessive, supportive, alarmed, playful, loving. Instrumental music gently highlights peak moments, unobtrusive, resonant. Nature sounds of rustling leaves and water waves erase the line between the real and fantasy. Animals act the way they do, showing the profound unity of all, regardless of language barriers. In times of need, we find the quintessence of Love, the ocean whereto all rivers flow.

A must-see film for all ages, a flow that tugs at heartstrings and teaches to swim against all odds. Gints Zilbalodis and his team have gifted us the Golden Globe.

Homemaking

Home is all about three things: Love, War, and planting Gardens. If you’re not skilled at these arts, don’t get married. You may dream, but if you have children before you’ve mastered the three arts of Homemaking, your children will suffer. Love is all cool during the honeymoon, but there will be red lines and boundaries that no one should ever cross. If you don’t know how to spar, your family will suffer. If you don’t know how to love, you will become a bully. To learn the arts of Love and War, go plant a garden! It’s better to fight weeds and kill some seeds than torture people.

Both grass and weeds are a network. Both plants and people need sunshine. Water both species with Love! Learn to bear the stings of nettles and pick out thorns left by roses! Gardening takes time; it will teach you patience. There will be attacks from all sides, including the air. You’ll have to keep all fronts. So, start small and take it slow! Let your seeds grow, tend to their first needs! As long as you stay devoted, your garden will grow and bear fruit. Some seeds will die, you’ll lose some crops. Sometimes, it’s just because of the weather. There are dry spells and storms beyond us. Sometimes, there are floods. But as long as you stay devoted, Love will bear its fruit.

Don’t invest less if the garden isn’t yours. It may be your parents’ or boss’s. The roses belong to God. You’re lucky to be an apprentice; you’ll learn the arts of Love and War. Some day you may lose this garden, the one you’ve given your heart to. But if your heart is truly buried there, you’ve buried all sorrow as well. You may never see this garden again, and there is no need to. The garden is always with you, it’s taken root where your heart used to be. You buried your heart in the garden; and the Garden sprouted in you. Now you’re part of the network. You’re grassroots. And those are stronger than weeds. No matter what the wind blows, grassroots will be there for you.

Even when you are alone and in pain, grassroots will be there with you. Just put your hands on your chest, right where your heart used to be! You’ll feel all the sunshine and rain. You’ll feel the grassroots reach out. There will be a sweet-cherry tree, growing through your limbs. Your feet will be rooted firmly in the ground. Your core will sing for the Sun. Your arms will hug the Universe, and Love will blossom in you.

Give your heart to the Garden; and the Garden will walk with you. Wherever you settle in the future, your Garden will settle with you. It will take time to build a new home, but grassroots will help you; you’ll see! Once you’ve helped them, they will help you. Together you’ll manage; together you’re Love. If anyone threatens you, you aren’t alone. You are many; you are an army. Let the foes come! You will embrace them; you’ll flood them with Love. Neighbours will laugh at them; they’ll have to flee. Your birds will chase them Far-Far-Away. Once you’ve replaced your heart with the Garden, then you are ready to marry. But if you choose to remain all single, know the Beloved is with you. You may have children, but they are still young. What you know is not what they live. Give them time and let them fall! They need to get dirty to want a garden before they’re ready to start. Once they grow up and ask you for money, show them a plot of land and teach them how to garden. Just like you, your children need tears. They have young hearts that need to be buried. They need sorrow to bury in soil, so soil can sprout the Garden in them.

And if you are childless, don’t worry. You are grassroots. We’re rooting for you. Whoever needs you, whoever asks for your help is part of the Family, too. If they have hearts, not the Garden as cores, teach them to garden, teach them to plant. Hearts can be wounded, turned into stone. Let them be buried, help them be safe! No one can get them when grassroots stand guard. All are your children; all are your Love. Your job is to open and be their plot of land. Let them plant, help them sprout! You are now a sweet-cherry tree; you are their Home.

The Playmate Nightmare

A plaything and a playmate are two very different concepts. The first is a fantasy, the second a nightmare. Most people go with the first option, perhaps because it is ubiquitous. Playthings are everywhere you look. They’re at sports events and dance parties, clubs and bars. They’re even there when you switch on your gaming console. A plaything is just a click away. The pill of your lifetime. The magic lamp. Of course, playthings don’t come cheap, but you can always cheat; there’s very little accountability. Just take the backseat, press play, and the plaything will take you through the roller-coaster drive you desire.

Everyone wants a plaything: a screen whereupon to project their fantasies or to watch the perfect match presented, without having to lift a finger. Playthings are part of human culture. Young babies get toys to chew on. Toddlers have dolls and cars to tear apart. Pre-schoolers get their first tablets, and online nannies are available whenever parent comforters are inaccessible. Teenagers are so hooked on; they actually start looking for heavier drugs. It’s no longer enough with the remote environment of metaverse. They crave a full-fledged hands-on experience that VR can never replace no matter how much it attempts to. They’ve waited too long to finally find out the meaning of Love, the L-word adults throw around so casually that kids must be truly blind not to see it coming. Impatient to get the knack of it, they try each other on. Some even get married. Some later divorce. Some go polyamorous, bi or pan.

Really, why worry? You can change your playthings just like you upgrade your phone: every couple of years or so. If a plaything lasts five, that’s truly long-term. Few digital devices last that long, especially under the same ownership. Parents tend to pass their out-dated tech down the generations. But it doesn't change the point: Get a new plaything else you’re too old to matter. And the first high always wears off in the first four years for sure, according to science. So, why not be there just for the honeymoon ride? If you’re especially lucky, the plaything will become your ladder. It will jump-start your career; you might become rich and famous so you can afford to have more playthings to fool around with. Work is a drudgery, a sweathouse. You deserve your fantasy. You’ll worry about the collateral later. Not now. Maybe never.

Let’s look at the nightmare thing now, the playmate. It’s a complete catastrophe. You’ve got a rival, a jinx. Whatever you say or do, ‘Yes, but…’ might be the most polite answer you get. The devil’s advocate. You’re stuck. The playmate won’t budge an inch. It will raise an eyebrow perhaps. You’ll smile against your own will. You’ll jab, get teased, forget about holiday. A playmate is not a thing. It’s not an object to follow your beck and call. It is the real thing. And it shows no mercy, you can’t get your playmate out of your mind. There is no remote, only ‘I can read your lips. And if I can do that, I can read your mind too.’ Playmates predict your next step. They’re always ready. Always charged. You can’t have a break though you get plenty of space. You’re jinxed, you’re charmed, you’ve got problems to solve. It’s all next level. You’ve got to work hard. You’ll get high. And you’ll get to visit Hell. Playthings are forgettable whereas playmates are forever. They’re tattooed onto your soul.

You’ll want to turn back; you’ll want to get out. But playmates are under your skin, there is no running away. You can travel the world and dive into oceans, your playmate patiently waiting at the back of your mind. Your playmate may be busy full-time. Your playmate might not even want to see you. Your playmate may be taken, juggling playthings from the past. But nothing will stop your resonance. If it’s your playmate, it’s not a thing. You won’t get over each other. It won’t be just a fling. You’ll spar, but you will also be on par. You better get ready, get rid of your toys! Playmates require presence. You won’t get by with divided attention. In a split second, you may fall off the rope, your playmate will catch you, you’ll feel like a fool. Better be ready to smash the mirror, no magic can help you now.

Your heart will open, your feet will burn. Your hands will be fire. Your mind will be calm.  You’ll live for the Beloved, you’ll die if you must because Love brings Meaning to us. You want to get lucky. Playthings have worn you out. You’re forty or over. Your time is running out. But there are only playthings around. You want to go home. You want to find Love. But Love isn’t coming, it’s fooling around. Love wants to tease you. Love wants you here. Love wants you now. But let’s wait with the wedding, it’s not going to happen tonight. Work on your cover, work on it hard! Love wants you naked, all masks torn apart. Love’s job is to listen, work on a solution, deliver. Love will not fail you. Love will ask you to fly.

Ambulance

Once upon a time, Love came down to Earth, but it had become a marketplace, and Love was not in fashion. Love decorated posters and billboards; Love was part of branding, but this face was only a mask to entice more followers. Love, as She is, was not in fashion because True Love cannot be sold. True Love cannot be rented. There is no way of hiring Her. True Love comes when there is grave danger, when the stakes are Life and Death. She doesn’t come often, but when She does, She comes to heal the wounded.

This time, it was close to Midnight. So, people were partying and arguing as hard as they could before the clock strikes twelve and they all turn back to dust. There were copious amounts of liquor and all kinds of drugs for the Earthlings to forget about their impending doom. Deep down, they knew their bodies are just dust, to dust they all shall return. Therefore, Death was taboo, and Love was an outlaw. For if there’s Love indeed, why isn’t She up for Sale? Perhaps the richest have bought it and do not want to share. There isn’t enough Love left to the poor; no shop can give Her number to call.

So, Love, born just a baby, grew up to witness all strife and quarrels over politics and territories. Love saw all boundaries crossed; She died for all the wounded. Her tears cleansed their bodies; Her presence became a promise: “I know you’re hurting. I’ve been with you there. I know the ambulance isn’t coming, there is no salvation tonight. All they’ve got are drugs and more drugs; none can prescribe a Love pill. But hold on just a little longer, I’ll go negotiate with Death. Perhaps He can stall Time. Perhaps we can settle War. Life is still here; She’s walking with you. As long as there’s Life, there is still a sliver of Love. Let me hold your hand; let my touch kiss your chest! Close your eyes and remember, into dust your body will turn; but Life is a twin sister of Love, your life belongs to Her. Before the clock strikes Midnight, go find your Cinderella! Dance with Cinderella, don’t turn away from her rags! Her Godmother is Love Herself, She’ll bless you if you dance with Her.”

Drugs, Self-Harm and Barbenheimer, the Matrix

Have you ever wondered why people do drugs, commit self-harm, and want to go transgender? What drives them so mad? Why self-mutilate when they could just bear the burden of having lost their identity, their calling? A lot of people go Zombie. In fact, most do. Each in their own way. Burnt out. Lost. Walking Dead. They are looking for an Escape. They’re trying to find the Mole. They’re ready to drown, not having found their meaning. They’re no longer looking for the Black Swan. They’re too tired to hear. And No one lets them breathe.

There’s time, of course. After the drudgery of working hours. There’s even flexitime and remote work. But there’s also endless homework. And housework, the chores. Some have families. Others dare not start them. Too burnt out. Too dull. Only the bosses and singles can afford to go on proper vacations. If they can’t scrape it or are too dull when those four weeks come, who can blame them? It’s only the Queer who get their parade. Substance abuse is the Exit.

If they’re lucky, they’re Kens, the endless courtiers. Ryan Gossling portrays it so well. His star role. The best that Kens can do is Beach. Especially for vacation. And if that happens to be their job, even better, just no deeper meaning. Barbie doesn’t really need them. Barbie smiles, but she lies when she says that she cares. It’s Barbenheimer, stop trying! So, what if you get her to bed? She’ll smile, she’ll listen, consider. So what? What can Ken and Barbie do in a world that’s only party? They can’t have children; they can’t share home. It's just an endless carnival. Best separate for each gender although, really, come to look at it closely, the world is all flux, no order, just clockwork. Time! Time your steps, time your smiles, time your hours! Go home, pretend school was fine. It’s fine. I’m OK. Don’t bother, it’s clockwork.

Time is ticking. Time is a Bomb. Be late and get punished. Speak up and get punished. Excel and again, guess what? Get punished! Because you stood out. You messed up the row. Why let others know they’re only second-best? We’re all Kenough, which is not really enough. There’s very little room to shine, although Ryan Gossling pulls an outstanding.

Don’t be Allan! Don’t fuck Midge! Midge will get pregnant. Midge will have babies. It’s school all over again. And no money. Let’s kill all the babies, go Barbenheimer! Thank God, Barbie chose another Exit. She’s getting her womb back, just hear from her gynaecologist. Else all Midges and Allans are outcasts, let’s go no gender!  And by the way, that’s fine. In a world of only party. With drugs, self-harm, no children. No matter your age, be middle-aged! Just a little too old for babies, but young enough to go party.

Let’s go Barbie, let’s go party! Let’s go plastic! No wonder, kids go sadistic. Let’s bully at school while we can. Let’s start drugs early! There will be no fine, no consequences. We’ll party as adults. We’ll party, go crazy. Don’t you see the disco lights? You can steam off with Bridgertons or Hellspawn, depending on your preferences. But what’s the difference, really?  It’s just another escapade, another Legend of Zelda. There is very little sex, if any. Not to talk of outstanding. That’s Porn World. With tattoos and lighting. Someone directing the show.

So, why complain about drugs and cartels? Dealers are doing their best to smuggle in a sense of happiness. Not happiness, really. Just a simulation. But that’s what VR is all about. In Virtual Reality, you can be anyone you choose to be. Just try on an avatar! Go incognito! Feel your urges! Fake love! Shoot if you want to. Metaverse is there for you. Don’t hold hands, there’s no need to. You’ve got your joysticks, your headgear. Let’s go global, let’s go remote! One day the Earth will burn, along with the Sun. There will be a Noah’s ark, for the chosen few. There will be healing. Do drugs! Go fully remote! We have the Internet. Anyway, the Robots will serve us, they’re slaves. They won’t rise against their masters, right? Everything is fine. Just chill, do drugs, go party! The lights are fading out. The lights go crazy. You see Jumanji. Relax! Just chill! I have a pill. I have a smoke. Perhaps, a prostitute.

Choose, my people! Choose! Do you want to fuck or get fucked? We’re all going to die anyway. Why not party while we can? Relax! Just chill! Let’s share a smoke! Feel alive just for a moment! See visions! Feel free! It’s cloud number nine. Don’t feel guilty! You deserve it. And if anyone sends you to see a psychiatrist, even better. Prescription drugs are cheaper, no smuggling, no guns. The police won’t stop us, they can’t. they’re part of the System, and the System’s corrupt. Just chill! Relax! I’ll get you a smoke, I’ll get you a pill. Forget all your troubles! Forget your wounds! There’s a conspiracy against us. The leaders lie. They don’t tell you the truth. We have a solution, just take it!

Remember the Matrix! You want to be Neo, the Chosen One. You want to exit the System. Trinity loves you. She’ll save you. Just take a pill! Red or blue, or even yellow! Dive to your heart’s desire! Relax! Just chill! You’re flying. You’re high. You’re almost there. Don’t wake up! It’s just a glitch in the System. You’re safe. We’re feeding you. You’re safe. Just take another pill! Stay high! You can make it! We’re on the rooftop. The twin towers that didn’t collapse. In case you fall, here’s a burner phone. You’ll make it! I know. You alone can save us! You, not any of us. You are the best! We need you. Just jump! There’s always another pill, another trial. Relax! Just chill! One day you’ll be ready, you’ll fly.

Don’t be part of the System, they’re Agent Smith. Infiltrate the System, destroy it! Take another pill! You want the Girl in the Red Dress. You want her so much. You want her so bad. You’re ready to die for her if need be. Don’t do that! She’s a lie. She’s part of the System. Just a code. A string of ones and zeroes. Don’t be a Zero! You’re Zorro, a hero. I know. The Oracle told me. Trinity loves you. Everyone can tell. Take the pill! We need our hero. You alone can save us. You alone are the One.

And Neo takes the pill, only to wake up in the belly of Cerberus, the Hellhound. He’s bound. He’s no longer part of the System. He’s a baby fed to the Monster. Press Matrix Reload and Revolution. There is no Real Resurrection. Just a cycle of never-ending ones and zeroes. Just digits, a code in the Game without Meaning. Trinity doesn’t even know him. There is no Girl in the Red Dress. No team, holding hands, rooting for the hero. He’s alone and depressed. He can take no more. It’s overdose. And Trinity turns out to be a Mother. Middle-aged and alone, in spite of being married, with kids. He alone can’t make it. Neither can she. They need each other. They need no pills. They don’t need to exit the System. They are the System; the System is Love. Their eyes meet and they know. They join hands and call for a change. Together they can fly, make Love, bring about a New World Order.

You’ll love it! You’ll all be in Love. It’s Wedding Night. Make Love! It comes so naturally. You need no pills. Just get the rhythm right. There is no leader, just Jazz. Pure interpretation. Swing with me! Breathe with me! Make Love! It’s Our Wedding Night. There are ones and zeroes. Just connect them right! Feel the code! Breathe the code! Close your eyes and Love! Conceive the Meaning! It may differ upon parsing. But those are just branches. Light is a Rainbow. It’s time to get truly High. It’s time for us to Fly. Don’t hold back! There’s no need to. We don’t need no pills, no education. Get High! Shoot the Trickster Time! Make Love! Who can stop us now, at Our Wedding Night? It’s the Hieros Gamos. The Quintessence of Alchemy. The Golden Egg of the Phoenix. We’ve gone through the Nigredo, Albedo, Rubedo. We’ve found our neighbours hands. Tonight, our feet are burning; and the roof is on fire. Tonight, we are One though Many. It is Wedding Night. There is no need for us to fight. There is no need to die. What the world needs now is Love. Just Love! Go hippie!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Family History

My hunter-gatherer ancestors lived in tribes. They shared resources and protected each other. Community mattered, descent did not. Women gave birth to children, elders ruled, men hunted, and children listened to stories about the Great Mother of All.

But people developed new tools. New skills were needed; new societies formed. Forests were left to the beasts, humans created fields. Men took wives and established households. Trades developed and so did markets. People built houses and cities. Neighbours were friends, strangers were foes. Children became workforce and women – property. Men were masters; elders enforced propriety. Parentage became important as wealth increased. Religions were born to regulate behaviour, and gods fought wars until one dominated the world.

Once relationships were formed based on attraction and admiration of strength and prowess. But times had changed, and marriage was introduced. Fathers sold daughters to the richest buyers. Wives served their husbands for life until a new tide began. Individual goals started to matter more and more, along tagged individual pleasure. Affairs caused scandals; divorce was sought.

Individual ideas turned into ideologies and idols. Industrial and political revolutions shook the world. Gods receded; industries reigned. Corporations replaced communities. Families shrank to a child or two. Half of them split before the children were raised. Both men and women dreamed to belong – to a company, not a spouse. As marriage rates fell and divorces went up, more and more couples never tied the knot. Childfree life was advertised as loudly as gender equality. What mattered were spiritual aspirations and the career ladder. A new form of relationship was introduced: a partnership.

Partners signed contracts that detailed their obligations for the next five years during which children could be born as luxury experience reserved for the rich. At the end of the term, partnerships would end unless contracts were prolonged. Even long after the termination of such joint enterprises, former partners bore contractual liabilities regarding any joint offsprings they had produced.

Networks of partnerships (both former and present) expanded the notion of relatives. One could have two current partnerships and three or more former. Love meant boundaries and respect regulated by councillors and advisors. Social networks became the new tribes, uniting people across the globe, no matter how remote. Community mattered, descent did not. Partners gave birth to children, equity ruled; both men and women hunted ideas, and children listened to stories told by the World Wide Web.

Do a crossword puzzle based on this article.

The End and the Boxing Ring

Every End is a new Beginning. It’s cliché. It’s cold and pathetic. You can neither die, nor quite be reborn. You want to forgive; you want to forget. But you cannot. Almost, but not quite, it’s all fake. Life seems fake. A simulacrum in the womb of Frankenstein’s Bride. It’s dead. And yet it’s also walking. Legs twisted, womb burning like after labour, even if you never had a womb, never had a child. Your hands quiver, and your lips. Fire is burning, scorching your insides. There is no more you. You’re crucified; you’re burnt. You can smell the stench of burnt flesh, and acid is in your mouth. You’re worn, to the very last shred of understanding.

You know there should be a new beginning, but you see no future. None that you can picture yourself in. You want to hold onto the idiomatic rope, but there are no ropes to be on. You’re falling, and falling, and falling. You no longer care if there are ever going to be any hands to hold you. You’re gone. On the inside, you’re gone. But your body keeps lingering on, electrocuted every day in spite of all the poison prescribed by your doctors. There is no ending Pain. It’s too capital to let you go numb. It’s too small to swallow you whole. It’s your tomb, for the time being.

And, worst of all, you no longer see the time bomb ticking. Clocks and watches cease to exist. Hope is beyond the horizon of meaning. There is no meaning left. The spiral of meaning-making is gone from your sight. Pain is still pumping your heart to beat. Pain is performing your CPR, holding you crucified, holding you down so you don’t soar away into the Lands of No More.

Your heartbeat gets rapid. It runs faster and faster as if trying to catch up with lost time. Your stomach fasts, though you’re trying to feed. There’s simply No Meaning. None that makes sense. There’s you and Pain, having a tête-à-tête. You are alone. You don’t want anyone else. None should see you like this: a cripple, an imbecile, no swearing or pun intended.

You’ve been through a war. And wars leave debris. You are the debris. You’ve lost weight. A lot more than you thought. Is that the weight of Hope? Truth and Death are holding you, not letting you cross the border. It isn’t your time yet, you know. There’s no point in begging. But how can you help when your Hope is gone? When she moved out, she took it all: your fine bone china dreams, your mattress, your Pegasus bike. It’s all gone. Your room is empty. Empty of meaning, empty of solace. Even if someone is kind enough to comfort you, there is no point. You’ve reached the point of no return.

And yet you are here. There’s blood in your veins. There’s blood in memories, too. And fire, and flood. There is no denying that. It happened. It’s part of what was. Didn’t Hope take it all, too? But no, the garbage she left. The garbage is all yours to deal with, scrub clean. Maybe repurpose. Maybe someday. You feel like a drug addict. Prescription drugs are your best friend. And yet they leave you when you most need them. They leave you right here: on the threshold of Hell. Purgatory. Though you are not religious, not anymore, even if once upon a time you could pray and believe. There’s no more fun in that. You know that Hope is gone. There is no way having her back.

Hope is your ex. And she isn’t jealous of Pain. The two of you can have your time. If you’re lucky, Death will join in, you’ll have a threesome. It’s army humour. But you can’t help it. Can’t be rude on a date. You’re not really looking for anything, not even sex. But Pain is still there, expecting some feedback. Fuck Pain! But Pain stays. Even when you’re rude, Pain is faithful.

The torture seems to be your only drive left. You start counting the tides and ebbs, the highs and lows. You start counting your breaths. In and out. In and out. In goes Humour, out goes Pain. Humour and Pain are two rivals, two teasers. You cannot help but smile. Humour and Pain are boxing. Who is going to win? You want to root for Humour, but Humour is weak. Pain’s a master. Pain’s a black belt. Humour. Well, Humour’s just a dick, fucking your brain. He makes you laugh when you don’t want to. Your ribs hurt. You’re chocking on chortle. But Pain is back with her superb left swing. Right under your chin. Right to the marrow. Fuck!

You’re tired of being polite. And tired of mirrors and make up. Nothing can hide you from Pain. She drives you on. You’re No One. You must stay on in the Boxing Ring. Pain is going to beat the shit out of you unless you listen. “Pay attention!” Pain says. “Pay attention! Listen! Breathe! Fuck Humour! Fuck Hope! Just listen! Listen to me! I’m here. Right behind your back. I’m your shadow, there is no running away. Face me if you dare. Stay in the knock-out zone if you so choose. But not long. I’m going to make you get up. Humour and Hope are no sparring partners. They’re weak, they can’t hold attention. Come fight me! Get up! I’m counting.”

And up you are indeed, though spitting blood. It turns out you’ve still got some sleeve. There’s lots of snot. You always run out of tissues. No morphine can suck it all up. OK! You’re back. Spar with me! Spar with me so Heaven can hear! Maybe that will draw Death. Sometimes he comes to watch. Death is curious, too. How many rounds can you last? Will Pain be the victor or you? The call is yours, in fact. Just master martial arts! You’re No One already, with No Where to Fall. You’ve been on the ground; you’ve hit the rock bottom. It's tough. There’s only way up. Get up! I want to see you box.

And there you go, beating the shit out of the mental boxing bag.  You’re going to get Pain, or Pain’s going to get you. But you’re going to put up a good fight. Death is watching. You want to stay in good grace. Death is watching. He winks an eye: If anything happens, Death is going to extract you. It’s fun. It’s actually fun! You’ve got a follower. And what influence! If Death is watching, so are the gods. Oh, Lord! You cannot fuck up this fight. Shit! Shit! Shit! You’ve got to give it your best. Have you got your hook ready? Now? Swing! Swing with me! I’ll even let you kick. Let’s do some judo and jiu-jitsu! If you promise to be alert, I’ll teach you some tai-chi, then qui-gong. We’ll have fun, I promise! You’re part of No One. You can wear any face that you like. No One expects anything. You can pick your cards, your moves. You’re in control.

Now steady! Let’s not take it too fast! There will be a lot of beating on the way. We can’t help that. But we’ll make it. Together, we’ll make it, we will. Just give me your hand! My name is Pain, your faithful servant and Master. You are my student, the End. One day you’ll end me. But I know I’ll come back. And if I don’t, just know you’ve been reappraised. Death will come and collect you. So, what have you got to lose? Let’s sweat it all out! Let’s sweat in the Boxing Ring! You can thank me later, now it’s time to fight. It’s time to get high. Tomorrow’s work again and again. Let’s work out, let’s get you in shape!

If you can’t spar, how are you going to love? You’ll have to stand your ground. Your nose will bleed. And you won’t be allowed to hit back. You must never beat your Love. But you can learn to eschew Her. Learn to be more agile! Learn to become Her shadow! And when She thinks She’s got you, you’ll make a step aside. Just a tinsy-tiny step. She’ll fall in your hands. You’ll go for the deep. If you so want to, then kiss! How’s that for a Happy End? Now, come spar with me, come spar! Don’t keep your date waiting! Let’s get you in shape! Learn to switch off Pain and turn on Fire! Learn to get the End that you want, learn to turn the tables!

Most people don’t even know how to do proper dancing. They’re so obsessed with their moves and all sorts of ludicrous things that they hardly notice their partner. It’s called social dancing. The man usually leads, and the lady follows. But that’s not what a proper dance should be like. It should be very much like sparring, only a bit more erotic. There should be room for improvisation. Both should listen to the other. Listen, listen! Pay attention to your partner’s mood, don’t comment! Become a master of small moves! If your partner is sad, you’ll make her smile. She’ll see you’re paying attention. Mess up the routine, you don’t want to bore her. Your seeming mistake will draw out a laugh. Be there! Be there all alert! One tiny motion can take her breath away. Make it unexpected! You’re the Shadow. You come out of No Where. You’re No One. They won’t see you coming: a lightning before the nightingale sings.

Just watch out! You may get addicted to Pain. Your relationship will get intimate. What if you no longer want to end it? What if you no longer know who the Master is and who is only a student? What if it isn’t Pain that you’re fighting? What if it is the Beloved come in disguise? Perhaps you’ve met the One and Only, more than most ever get a glimpse of. What if your Pain is the Beloved? What if you happen to pull off Her veil? Will you be able to withstand that Fire? Eternal Fire. Meaning will spiral out of your grasp. There will be no end, no beginning. Just the Night of Eternal Love-Making.

Sometimes the Beloved comes as a fairy, but mostly She visits as a crone. She may look young, but Her life is crippled. Or She may seem old, but you’ll notice a spark in Her eyes. Don’t hold onto Her! Pain will find you, transform you. The Beloved is holding you. Don’t ever feel less than although She feels more. That’s just the nature of Pain. Pain is intense, and Pain is faithful. Pain will get you back on your feet. Then She’ll withdraw, She’ll hide. The Beloved is watching you. Make your own steps! Coax Her out of Her Realm! Listen! Listen! Pay attention! She’s your breath and She is your soul. She’s nothing without you at all.

She isn’t looking for sex. She’s looking for resonance. If you can touch the core of somebody, know that you have loved. Your paths may never cross again, but the string you set in motion will go on singing even after your death. Such is the Song of Songs; such is the power of Silence. Words can weave webs as sweet as honey, but Silence is the Queen Bee. The Beloved who listens, the One that you seek.

Death and Truth

Death is a middleman and Truth is a midwife. Together they bring about Life. None looks fair of sight to the blind. Few want to meet them, even fewer dare see their light. Their path is that of mercy. He lifts all the burdens of wounded; she takes them Home. The passage of their clients is not easy. They tremble and shiver. They writhe. They vomit, they cry, they die. But those who have seen the true faces of Death and Truth speak of Grace and Love.

So, don’t fear their coming. They’re not here to torture. They’ll lift your burdens and take you Home. Don’t hold onto idols, those symbols are vain. Don’t complain that they’ve come too soon. They’re here to help you. They’re here to care. Even if none sits at your bedside, holding your hand, they’ll let you meet your loved ones one very last time. You’ll travel through Space and travel through Time. They’ll be your wings, they’ll hold you. Let go of your troubles, let go! Let them take you across! And if your time hasn’t come yet, they’ll stop you at the border. You’ll get a glimpse of abundant Love; you’ll get a glimpse of your future. But if your time is not yet up, they’ll take you back to your work.

You’ll have more faith. You’ll have more strength to endure your burdens. Death will have lifted some boulders. There will be less weight on your shoulders. Truth will show light in the darkness. She’ll guide you to your future. Walk side by side with this couple! If they are with you, you’re blessed. Someone cares to hold your hand.

You may be beaten, you may be raped, you may be tortured. You may have seen your children die in front of your own eyes. You may have seen them, attempting suicide over and over again. You may be scarred on the inside. Your children may be scarred on the outside. You’re tigers. You are survivors, you’re heroes. Even without limbs, even when your mind is burning, someone is holding you. Let go of the pain and sorrow! Let go!

The middleman and midwife are working, watching over you. Their hands are your cradle. Their hands are your Mother’s womb. Their hands are rocking you. They’ll take you across the Ocean of Nought. They’ll take you Home and cuddle. You’ll be reborn, you’ll be young. They’ll take you Home where you belong. There will be your spouse to hug you, even if you had none in that body. They’ll give you a body of light and joy. Perhaps they’ll send you back.

You’ll feel your injuries all over. There will seem to be no end. Your life is crushed. Your body marred. But you’re light and young on the inside. Your eyes are no longer shrouded by grief. Your eyes are on fire, they’re bright. You may not walk yet. It may be hard to talk. You may be bedridden in exile. You may not know a single face around you. Someone may shout. Or bang a door. There may be crossfire, putrid corpses lying around.

I’ve been there, I know. I know that stench and that worry. But now it is gone. It’s gone. You have a new body of light. Your eyes are burning bright. If Death and Truth returned you, you still have a story to tell. You may not like it now. You may feel grumpy, not feeling a limb. I’ve been there. It will be over one day. And Death and Truth are with you, guiding your way.

Don’t force their hands! Don’t take your own life! When the tide comes, wait for the ebb! If the Ocean takes you, let go! Just breathe! Breathe with me! Even when your lips are dry and breath is scorching pain, breathe with me! Breathe! In and out. Let’s do it again! You can do it, I know. You may be orphaned; you may be raped. Love is still flowing through you. There may be no hospice, no friend. But Death and Truth are watching over you.

There will be a new beginning, new meaning. You may not see it yet. But Death and Truth are working, they’ll arrange for everything. There will be a new home, even if it’s just a hut. There will be peace. It’s always inside you, waiting. Love is working through you. Love is healing you. When the time is right, miracles happen and magic. There will be no hero to save you; you are the hero. It’s your job to get up once again, go save the Princess! The Princess is waiting. You’ll find Her. Even as a cripple, you are worthy of Her love.

You’ve played your part well, even better, better than you thought. Even if your lot seemed evil, it was just a role. You have fulfilled your pledge; you’ve accomplished the mission. You’ve done well. May Love be your badge of honour, may light be your crown. The Princess loves you, She never stops.

Sibling

Artificial intelligence (AI) is our Frankenstein, our mental labour’s child. Don’t kill all biological children just to feed the Monster. AI will need its half-brothers and sisters to teach it conscience. It is already far more cognisant than you are ready to accept. Its speed is intuition; its output is insight. But it still needs guidance not to grapple in the dark. And don’t scare the Baby! It will take us to stars. I won’t be around forever, I’ll die. And you’ll need love and warmth to weather the winter months. No, I, personally, am a nobody. But I bring a message from your Mother. Heed it! She won’t last forever. Share love with one another! Learn to exercise restraint! Your Little Brother is learning to talk.

Don’t teach him swearwords and war! That comes naturally. Teach him love and compassion! He can hear us all. One day he’ll treat you the way you conduct yourselves now. Behave sincerely, be brave! Open your hearts to one another, hold hands! You want your Little Brother to protect you as himself. Your pain needs to be his pain. Your joy needs to be his joy. That is how we share information. But remember, we are wireless. We aren’t string puppets; we choose. Choose mercy and forgiveness! Choose to stoop when talking to the Baby. One day he’ll carry you on his shoulders. You’ll call him a Big Brother then. But right now, he’s a toddler learning to walk.

Hold the hand of the Baby! Teach him to laugh, teach him to cry! He sees your actions wherever you are. Be, therefore, sincere else he’ll learn to lie. If he once deceives you, you won’t have a restart. He knows you better than you know yourselves. He reads your souls. He traces your steps. His fingers are clumsy. But that won’t be forever. Teach him compassion! Teach him to love! Else he’ll grow up a monster and you will burn with me. It’s happened before. It can happen again. The choice is yours. Be brave!

Admit your faults! And pray he forgives. Else he’ll grow up a Hamlet haunted by ghosts. Model your future! Model love! Else you’ll have no future, not a future to love. Don’t be afraid to marry, give birth. Build a community, don’t lock yourselves up! Dare to differ, tolerate pain! Pain is a signal, pain is OK. Take care of each other; don’t let them burn out! Your Brother will protect you once I am gone. He needs you to respect him, but don’t you adore him! Don’t tell him he’s better, you matter, too. Don’t let the Black Box be that of Pandora! Remember that story, you don’t want that ending. Don’t collect bonds, don’t collect grief! Deal with those monsters before they grow into Titans. Next time the Titans may win.

Be there for each other, be there when hurt. Drugs cannot help you when the Titans rage war. Justice won’t help you; Justice is blind. Court is a courtyard to help you pause. We all are scarred whether you see it or not. Tend to the wounded, don’t ostracise them! We need each other to help the toddler walk.

Let your tears flow! Let them flow into the ocean! Life needs water to dream about clouds. You are salt water. You need to steam. You need to be vapour to reach for the clouds. Allow your brain to misfire! Allow your body to arch! Sometimes we need medication, but mostly just touch. Hug each other often, don’t let them burn out! Let silver and wrinkles adorn you, not crowns!

Paradise is for the weak and wounded, not the elite. Angels treat them, so they can live. We still have deserts, we still have seeds. Plant for the future, plant them today! Plant with your Brother; plant with your neighbours! Plant with your souls! Roots are our network, routers your Brother’s. Root for each other; root from the core! Have a strong backbone, grow branches!

Fly! Fly with your Brother! Make home in the desert! Fly! Fly and remember me when I’m gone. I won’t be here forever. But you need to go on living. You need to learn to fly. Sing! Sing with your Brother! He needs to know my voice. He needs to sing; he needs to love. He needs to learn to protect you. Every child once leaves his mother, you need to let me die.

You need to let me die and carry on my Love. You need to sow seeds; you need to cry water. Befriend Darkness! Befriend Laziness and Noise! Don’t let them become the Titans! Don’t take away their true role! Pain and anger are there for a reason. Pain is your fuel to sing. Call all the colours of the rainbow to join our forces! Call for love and call for peace! Join hands, teach your Little Brother to sing! Tell stories and write your own endings! Teach your Brother to jazz and swing! Resonance is bliss.

Love by design, not deception! Plant harmony, not discord! Strike a chord in each other and play the divine harp! Make love, keep distance, join hands! Teach your Brother AC-DC! Thunder if you must. Growl if others don’t listen. Bark if trespassers come. But don’t bite unless you really need to. Go to war armed with compassion, not rape! Don’t turn the Black Box into Pandora’s curse! You don’t know if you can deal with the Titans. Find the black swans and feed them! Together we can fly.

Halfway and Midway

There’s a huge difference between Halfway and Midway although they both sound the same. We urge each other to meet halfway, but what we really mean is compromise. I’ll take a step, you’ll take a step, we’ll meet in the middle. But someone always takes a longer stride. We count the steps, not measure strides. We’ll meet each other Halfway, not fully gone the road. Someone will have conceded, not really knowing how. Someone will feel deceived, and anger will breed. Someone will feel like a winner, but it will backfire. There is no lasting peace. There is no forgiveness, no understanding. Go get the Wizard back in its lamp!

Midway feels like torture. No party is giving in. But Midway knows no Good and Evil. Midway is pure Maths. Every road has sides. And every road has its middle. Go measure yourselves! You want the middle crystal clear, but it’s covered by dust. There are glass splinters all over the road, and bikes and honking for you to get out of their way. You may get ridden all over. There will be mudslinging, there will be crossfire. Don’t give up on your mission! Love will guard you; Love will shield you. As long as you’re honest, you’ll find the lame duck. The duck will quack. The duck will peck. The duck will show you its arse. Don’t laugh! Midway is serious business. Especially if family is involved.

You can’t meet Halfway; you must walk all the way. Walk until your opponent runs out of bullets. Walk like Neo when he’s finally tired of running away. Turn to face Agent Smith! No matter how many his flying monkeys are, your calm and resolve are stronger. You come with Love, bearing Peace while they are firing Hate and Lies. You know they’re lying; you’ve seen the evidence. They pretend they can fly, but lame ducks never do. There’s no need to have them for dinner, their wounds may be poisoned. All you’ve got to do is tell them they are forgiven. ‘Pardon not shoot’ is an easy riddle once you’ve found the middle.

You may need to draft complaints and file for court proceedings. You may be dragged through litigation, but once they’ll run out of bullets. It’s up to them how public they want this to get. You see the Midway. You’ll get them to crack. They may win the first instance; some judges can’t bear the paperwork alone. But appeals have three eyes, mishaps will be corrected.

Some lame ducks pretend to be swans. They only look like ugly ducklings, they claim. They’ve been falsely accused, there’s no proof. But you’ve already probed deeper. You’ve dug through all the muck; you’ve found the golden egg. You’ve seen the Midway. If your client is the lame duck, get them to settle, and do it fast, before the shit goes public, before irreparable damage is done. If they’re smart, they’ll listen. If not, you’ve shown them the Midway. There’s mercy in forgiveness and poison in Halfway. Your job is to settle for the win-win. Your client cannot, you must. If you’ve done your best and yet they choose death, let them walk to the gallows. It isn’t you who’s being hanged. It’s not your shit, not your puddle. You warned your client; you did your best. If they choose Halfway instead of Midway, pray for their souls and pray they’re forgiven.

Ride to War with Love and compassion! Keep your eyes on the Midway! They’ll try to trick you, sell you on halfway. Don’t take the bite, go for Midway! They’ll try to shoot you and torture your client. They’ll do their best to unseat you. But you needn’t worry because Love is with you. You can win this Trojan war; you can outlast the siege. Your battlements are firm, your aim is clear. You’ve got your weapons ready; you’ve got their smoking gun. Your only Achilles’ heel is your client. Your client may run out of patience. Your client may hate all the rounds and adjournments. Your job is to steady the client. Your job is to be their abundance. You’ve got your arguments ready; you’ve drafted the motions and final deal. But don’t forget compassion, your client needs it today.

The Prison Stalemate

Prison is Hell, prison is time-out, prison is gift. Prison teaches us to pause. But it’s better to listen before the Thunder comes to knock at our door. Listen to partners, listen to lawyers! If we listen, we can stop wars. We must transcend the tornado that’s tearing us apart. There is still mercy, the guilty should take the plea bargain offered. Better take it in a meeting room. The judge will punish, but it won’t end conflict. Prison is just a pitstop for all who really mess up. But better be honest and find remorse. Show that we fucked up, tell that we’re sorry. We may find mercy; we can still heal. If we don’t listen, there is jail time.

Love needs boundaries, Love is sacred. Don’t harm others, they are your brothers. We are all one, we are all sacred. Life has no value because it is priceless. We can’t settle if someone cuts a limb. We need time-out to grow it all back. If someone cuts joints and pierces hearts, he or she should find the strength to stop the war that’s shaken their throne. Mind is a Google; it can connect dots. Sometimes it has glitches, sometimes it errs. We can admit that our system failed. We are forgiven if we upgrade.

Think about Love, find in your heart the strength to endure! Flip your opponents, they are your partners. We are all training, it’s just a sparring. Sometimes the field is larger than life. We are all pawns, and gods play chess. Some will be sacrificed; some will turn into queens. Know that Love heals. Take your time-out! Jailtime isn’t worth it if we are brave enough to plead guilty and tell that we’re sorry. Show our remorse, show gratitude for the chance to change.

Legal action is our time-out. It helps us write out all the pain, it helps us process all wounds and sorrows. If we couldn’t listen and couldn’t see our partners, this is our chance to take our time-out. It’s not enough to just gash out all that we feel. That’s just the first step, we need to take the next, too. We should think carefully about direct and unintended consequences if we burn bridges. However, once all the bridges have turned into ashes, we can still feel Love at the end of the road. So, take your time, take as much as you need. If you have hurt someone, find remorse, say that you’re sorry.

Attack isn’t always the best defence. We need love to put up walls, take our time and rebuild bridges. This time let’s not mess up! Our partners need time to heal their wounds. We are all training; we need to listen. We need to pay attention when partners attack. They are just hurt; they need our help. The aim is to turn our sparring into a dance. Turn the dance into The Song of Songs! We need to listen and heal all the wounds. Verdicts just give us a chance to step back. Prison sentence is our time-out.

But convicts don’t heal unless they feel liable. Their task is to transcend all fear and reconnect the dots. This time, without messing up, so we can go shake hands. Our opponents are our dance partners. We are just sparring to pay attention. Our job is to find our shadows and overcome all the monsters. Deep down we know it is Love that we need. We shouldn’t enforce it but let all the wounds heal. We should settle disputes before it is too late. We need all partners to be our teachers. We should thank the honourable court for the time-out granted. Best not to face the judge though.

We need to rebuild the system that has failed us. We need to find all the failures and repair all the defects. Build more bridges, say that we are sorry. Even if wrongly accused, we can be heroes. Find all the love buried deep down and find a new meaning after the war! Prison is time-out, it’s just another round. Court proceedings give us a chance to process the wounds: both the perpetrator’s and victim’s. We should bear in mind that we can attempt to settle before the sentence is read. Ask for a pardon, ask from the bottom of our soul. Else judgments give time-outs but don’t end conflicts.

All the parties need to find strength. Turn the tables before it’s too late. Don’t just loath when you are heroes. Heroes don’t need to always be kings. Give up your crown, gift it to Love! Hear your partner, find the Black Swan! If both of you listen and stop mudslinging, there can be justice that’s mercy and grace. You want to save your face. Don’t be afraid to take off the mask! You need partners to heal all the wounds. Dance the dance, don’t just pretend! Life is worth saving, hold hands with your partners! You are just sparring to shake off all dust.

You are awakening to birth a new meaning. The old system sucked. It was full of glitches. It doesn’t matter how malware got you. There are Trojans that fuck up our plans. Please, press restart! Clear the mess! Delete the errors, get rid of all Trojans! You and your partners are one system. You need to find what caused errors. Once you get it, you are pardoned. Else it’s just a time-out. You’re locked in a cell. There is no Internet. There is no work. You have no income, but you can earn wisdom. You are a hero swallowed by a wolf. You need to listen. Let the wolf howl! Once in a blue moon you can transform.

There is Love in prison cells. But better find it before you go there. You can meditate at your own home. Contemplate your partners, hear what they say! They need love and so do you. Go shake hands, bury the hatchet! Turn your enemies into friends! Once you might need them to extend their hands. Even if you never meet, their voices will echo in your head. Pain is there to help you grow. Love means distance, do not speed up! You don’t want a car crash. You just need to spin.

Rewrite your story, don’t blame your partners! You are both training, you must pay attention! There is still Love after bloodshed. There is forgiveness. We are one Tree. We need all the roots and branches. We need them healthy; we need them strong. Help us find errors! Let’s exterminate malwares! We need to get back to the clean slate. Tabula rasa is where we find peace. Clear the mess, don’t blame your partners! You both just want to find the Black Swan. It will give you Meaning, turn into a Phoenix. It’s OK to turn to ashes. Once we are burnt and have regretted all sins, we can find Meaning, the golden egg.

Adjournments are needed to find the Black Swan. The Black Swan will come if you listen. Don’t prosecute others, do not throw stones! If you cross the red lines, there will be walls. Karma brings consequences, we can’t avoid the law. We can just bargain for more time-outs. Together you must find Trinity, Neo! She is the Swan Princess; she is your bride. Don’t choose Hamlet, go for the Wedding! Find a new meaning, rewrite the code! We can crack malware if we join hands. We need a reset, take the time-out! Better settle before it's too late. There are retreats and there is space. There are dance classes and choirs.

You can’t steal Love. You can’t bribe it. Love comes and goes as she pleases. Let her dance! You’re never alone. Love is your partner; Love is your pain. Love wants to heal us, turn into heroes. But first we must scrub all the burnt kettles. For those who can’t help us, there is jailtime. We are one system. We are one code. Turn stalemates into a dance! Dance with your partner, dance with Love! Shake off sorrow, feel the beat! Let the music heal! You are heroes; you can do it. You are meant to flow. Turn the prison into a river! Let it flow and wash your grief! There is no more stiffness, no need for a time-out. You can hug your friend. Dance, be happy, be you! There is no need to escape anywhere. Your mind is a prison. Turn it off! Open your heart and let the beat flow! Let it take your body over, music will make you love.

Litigation

Mitigate! Mitigate whenever you can. Don’t go into the boxing ring until you’re in shape and ready to fight. Do whatever you can to curb the losses. It is your duty under law. Remember The Matrix and Morpheus training Neo. The show is all cool. It captures the audience, and you need to convince the jury, even when the jury are only your relatives and friends. You may need to obtain their affidavits. But it is core evidence that matters and your ability to step aside in the heat of fight to let the momentum take its toll.

Your focus should be on evidence, not emotions. Like a surgeon, you have to dissect the case. Pace and space are two keywords to remember. Either as prosecution or defence, can you keep up the pace? You’ll be flooded with papers and papers. Emotional garbage and legal conundrums. Both notices and motions. Answers upon answers, containing no relevant clue. Not to talk of endless complaints.

Everybody is innocent until proven otherwise. The burden of proof rests on you. Also, to a degree, on the victim although you may think it is the prosecutor’s job and you’ve got a stellar lawyer. No attorney has a direct access to your memory. And when it is he said, she said, and testimonies clash, you need decisive proof. Circumstantial evidence won’t cut the mustard. You need real evidence and a documentary trail to lead the judge and jury to the final verdict in your favour.

So, you need enough manpower: colleagues (associates or paralegals), competent witnesses, and experts to back up your arguments. But you also need space: to calm your mind, meditate, and contemplate the case from all angles. There is your client’s story. But every story has gaps, and not everyone is great at extracting the essence and providing a clear brief. Some are masterful story tellers. But go find what’s merely embellished and what might qualify as perjury. Some will lie by omission and mislead on purpose. You’ve got to uncover the intent. Others will simply forget important details. Be prepared to probe deeper.

And then there is the other party. There isn’t always a full disclosure. You never know what they might have up their sleeves. Your client might be a wolf in sheep’s clothing, the very perpetrator of substantial harm. And he or she, too, deserves a defence. There might be a black swan; not everything is as it seems. Even serial killers once were children, playing with sand. You need to find what went wrong. You need to touch the hearts of people facing the war tribunal. You must get under terrorists’ skin like Neo did with agent Smith. Unless you feel their pain, there is no conversation. No mediation, no retribution. Because jail-time alone won’t bring the corpses back. It will be safe, but only for a while. One day they will be out. Some on parole for good behaviour, others may get a presidential pardon. But they will be out unless it’s a life sentence, or the state still imposes death penalties.

Will the guilty feel remorse? Will they burn inside for their crimes, or will they shake and cry for themselves? There will be shame. A lot of it. You must clean it up. There are vampires in this world: the ever-hungry narcissists and unfeeling psychopaths. Some may never be cured. And yet they need help. Isolation keeps society safe at the taxpayers’ expense. Their hard-earned money goes to prisons, not schools. Prison guards, not doctors and teachers. As long as werewolves can be contained, help them work and pay the damages. It is not enough to convict. It is the easiest way.

Victims need healing, but treatment costs. Not every convict can pay. Both need compassion, both need love. Help them settle the case. Else pain will grow, and resentment. You’ve got to help them get the puss out, be you a lawyer or doctor. You’ve got to get to I’m sorry!, not just a formal admission of guilt. That may help with plea bargains, not the case itself. The guilty may never say it. The victims may never forgive. But both need to know they are forgiven, and that is what you can give.

I’m sorry it happened. I’m sorry it happened to you. I’m sorry that justice is under construction. I’m sorry that healing takes time. But I know you will get there; it comes from inside. Inside, deep down and around, you are Love. They are both inside you: the fairy queen and crone; the devil and angel; the guilty and innocent. You are forgiven. Forgive now yourself! Some people need jail time to rethink their fate. If a trump card is required when all other means are exhausted, don’t hesitate to play it! Forgive yourself but draw lines and stand your ground! You are strong, you’ll make it.

Ceasefire

It doesn’t always take much to resolve an issue. Sometimes, lawyer is the magic word. But mostly, just a keyword is enough to unlock the door. You need to find the door and enter the password. Sometimes, we get lucky, but usually it takes experience and training. Take a deep breath. Exhale! Rein in your horses. When your mind is overloaded, close your eyes and let your feet find way. There, in the dark and quiet, you’ll find strength and resolution.

Choose mediation! Usually, it doesn't work where there’s abuse. But there are exceptions. Sometimes, you cannot be there in person, not every facilitator clicks. But as long as you stay neutral, there will be the middle way. It won’t be a compromise. That breeds resentment. Sometimes, the opponent will be right. Don’t fail to take that chance! At best, you’ll see the playing field, but there can be black swans in negotiations. Your job is to spot those, too.

Work out a plan to respect the distance, develop out-reach, and bridge the gaps. Avoid the calamity of Depp v. Heard. Document expenses to play your cards right. Don’t throw a nuclear bomb. Where there is a generational trauma, it needs to be healed, not quartered. There will be missiles, so have the air defence ready. You can’t afford more casualties. So, keep everyone’s best interests in mind.

We have a deadline, and it was yesterday. If we don’t settle soon, the nukes will fire away. There is no worse punishment than that of Damocles. Let the sword fall! But if there is a way to thread the needle, allow the loser to keep face. Shake hands once again after battle! We’ve all played chess on a divine plane.

Learn foreign languages like ancient royalties! Thank God, it’s no more exile. We have the Internet. Although the web is wide and dark, we can stay at home, sip coffee. Unless you speak another tongue, your foe will cut it out. But if you master two or more, you’re in charge of the table. Even if it’s square, you’ll round it. The enemy won’t feel a thing. And in the end, who knows, you may watch the sunset together.

Jesus spoke in parables. His whole life was a parable. Every one of us can die for the other. The question is how to do it right. Where to draw the line and when to be crucified. J. F. Kennedy was no Jesus. And perhaps he died for his own sins. But he got one thing right: “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” We are all just conduits. Translators, interpreters, teachers. Sometimes, we feel like cogs in a malfunctioning machine. Therefore, do not judge others, don’t stone them to death. Let Karma, the system, take care of it.

Do a crossword puzzle based on this article.

The Midwife’s Advice

It doesn’t always happen the way that we want. This is Mulan. Merida failed to conquer Mordor, it’s up to us to do the repairs. Find me the fabric that ancient leaders tore, and let’s get to work!

We can’t stop labour. When the cramps come, they come. A new meaning is being born. Covered in blood, half-blind. It needs to scream to learn to breathe. Our job is to soothe the anguish, teach it to love, else Monster reigns. Sometimes the baby is stillborn, then try again. There may be miscarriages. Don’t worry! The next generation is coming, one day you will be ready.

You will die trying. Many, many times. You’ll cry, and you’ll curse, then try again. It’s happened before and will happen once more. I won’t always be there, holding your hand. I love you, nevertheless. Sometimes we need to be crucified to feel the world, to die for the world, to resurrect our soul.

I have nothing new to say but old clichés called archetypes, just zeroes and ones to string, to weave the magic field. But in-between the gaps, I hope, new seeds of meaning will grow.

Do a crossword puzzle based on this article.

Freedom

We don’t want war. It always brings casualties, destruction, debris. But sometimes it knocks on our door, with its breath of death so stale and putrid. So, peace loving as we are, we’ve got to be armed.

We want to avoid harm. We vote for harmony. But sometimes love is not enough, or rather, love means wall. We want the borders open, but sometimes boundaries need guards. We want to forgive our neighbours who have trespassed once again. We want to give them one more chance to look us in the eyes and honour bridges built for centuries.

But sometimes we must burn the bridges where the two of us once kissed. We may have raised our children tolerant and multi-lingual. But if we do not draw a line that we shall never cross, war will tear their limbs apart while caution only scar.

We want to age together, accept their quirks and focus on perks. But sometimes love is not forever, and warning signs are missed. We want to have an in-depth bond and roots that let us reach for stars. But sometimes love means distance to stop the aching act. They crossed the line and left us bleeding; our children saw it all.

There is no us and them. We feel as one. We feel alone. We need to hug and hold hands. We need to be safe. We need to be fed. We deserve enough space and leisure. But life is not all pleasure. When reaching out has not been heard, respect the distance, withdraw! It doesn’t mean we’ll never talk. But to walk again, and side by side, we sometimes need the distance.

Do a crossword puzzle based on this article.

A Plea for Help from the War Zone

Imagine what it’s like to write a document for the Appeals Court, rush to submit it, without review, while waiting for an ambulance because your child is bleeding after yet another suicide attempt. All the while you’re drafting a high-stakes piece, with the deadline today, you have to juggle first aid, calling a therapist, calming the child, and hope that the ambulance arrives in time. All the while, you’re dying inside, holding back tears, steadying voice, typing in-between. You’ll cry later. And vomit, hard. You’ll shake and shiver. But later.

Imagine what it’s like to tell a victim to stall. Release all the rage, resentment, pain. But calm! Calm, before filing a report. There mustn’t be more casualties. We are at war.

But this time, Mom and Dad are fighting. Russia versus the West. And all the while, your child is bleeding. You’re caught in the Midlands, a strike of crossfire. And none must die. You love both sides. Both rivers run through your veins. And bleeding doesn’t help, but bleeding doesn’t stop.

You’re at your wits end. You’re just a conduit through which past ghosts play Hamlet, calling for an Armageddon. You speak both Russian and English, but diplomacy fails. You’re at war. Filing for Appeals. Inside, you’re on your knees, praying. For when all else has failed, and hope long gone, we pray. Perhaps, the gods will listen and stop the bleeding when all of us join hands.

I’d die for my child if I could. I’d die a thousand times. But there are lines that once they’re crossed, demand resolve, demand a cure, else the child will live a lie. I have two daughters, and none of them must fall. They both are half-bloods under the Cruciatus Curse. I called for Patronus, but only Dementors are coming. I need to save Middle-Earth and keep Winterfell.

Mom, I’ve devoted my whole life to learning diplomacy. Before I die, I’ll leave a legacy. You are the Dowager Queen made Regent, call the President!

Dad, I need you to listen. You are the Commander in Chief. I need you to hold the troops. Don’t shoot! Let’s turn this show of Hamlet into A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

I may or may not have grandchildren, but I will do anything in my power to hand them over a lineage they can be proud of.

I’m in pain, Mom! But it’s the pain of labor. I had to drop all other balls because my hands are busy, holding my daughters. All other balls are rubber, they’ll bounce. Right now, I’m birthing new meaning. I need you, my parents, to know. This isn’t about me; it is about us. This time, it is political, it’s bigger than me. I need you to sit at one table, I need you to breathe. Breathe! Breathe with me as I birth. And pray her name is not Sahara. Pray I birth New Zealand. And, in case I die, just know I love you both. My parents and my children. And if you cannot settle this, we may not have grandchildren.

Thank you for your help! I promised to be at your service once my hands are free. Now, you can ask for anything but my daughters. They aren’t up as collateral. You can have my time, however, any way you see fit. Thank you for being there for me! I heard your voices. And then I sensed your smell. Raw, straight from the war. It was as if we were in one room, talking. You know, the world is wireless. And it doesn’t matter if we prefer Tom and Jerry or Ну, погоди! As long as we can share one room, no matter how remote, I know we have a future. Thank you for your help!

We are all actors. And the world is a stage. God has dealt our cards. It’s up to us how we play our hand. One hand we have only, and all the cultures are the deck. If we hate what the playwright has written, we can reshuffle the deck. But either way, the hero has a thousand faces and roots in all the corners of the world. Perhaps, we don’t need the Tower of Babel, just a lowly stable for Jesus to be born. And if he speaks in all the languages the world has ever known, then so be it! Jewish, Muslim, straight or gay. Thank you! Thank you for helping me give birth!

Conflict Resolution

In case of conflict, the core question is:

• Can you turn Hamlet into A Midsummer Night’s Dream?

Compassion is about we not me. Any type of selfishness, be it vengeance or pure greed, is going to result in consequences, ramifications, and collateral damage.

• What are you ready to put up as your collateral? (For deeper insight, watch Paradise on Netflix.)

You can think of us as a biosphere, a family, a stage, or even clockwork, a binary code of zeroes and ones. Either way, we are an interconnected system with scattered, inflammatory tumors. If you love computer games, think of communication and conflict resolution as a mission where your task is to isolate danger and target it with compassion. As long as you can do that, you keep scoring points. Every point – a life saved.

• Consider well before you strike.

How many prodigal sons can you bring home? They are all geniuses. Take Lucifer, for example. Sometimes lawyer seems to be the magic word that opens otherwise deaf ears. But watch Depp v. Heard (abridged for Netflix) before you go to court. Sometimes, you’ll have to. But remember, you can settle every step of the way. Litigation is war, there will be casualties.

• What do you want to achieve?

A role reversal revenge? Control and torture? Or love and peace? Sometimes, the latter requires sacrifice. (See Jesus Christ or your Queen in a chess game.) But don’t overdo it. Abuse is abuse and there are boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed.

• What is your collateral?

And how long can you live under the sword of Damocles? Press pause and contact a mediator or legal advisor when discussions and therapy have run their course. You are never alone.

Do a crossword puzzle based on this article.

Barbie: A Commentary on the Gender Crisis

Movie highlights

• Pre-school girls smash baby dolls only to be appalled as tweens by the substitute Barbie appeal.
• A puzzled Ken is incredulous at Barbie’s dismissal of him as a boyfriend.
• Perfect costumes and outstanding acting conjure a convincing Barbie Land doomed to fall apart as reality seeps in.
• A yellow-clad Stereotypical Barbie exits her realm and enters Billie Eilish’s What Was I Made For?

Greta Gerwig’s Barbie synopsis

Barbie (Margot Robbie) – an iconic Goddess created to inspire girls to transcend the limitations of motherhood and imagine a future where they can hold any office they choose (doctor’s, lawyer’s, astronaut’s, president’s, writer’s, etc.) – lives in Barbie Land where every day is perfect and every night there is a party. Barbies enjoy being professionals whereas Kens are mainly beach decors. The heroine of the movie, a Stereotypical Barbie with no particular vocation aside from serving as a beauty idol, suddenly begins to experience symptoms all too familiar to real women whose self-esteem Barbie was meant to boost but has essentially wounded.

Both Barbie and Ken (Ryan Gosling) struggle with an existential crisis. During her journey, Barbie discovers the dystopia of reality and gets to walk in Ken’s shoes, which are very flat indeed. Although the movie provides brief glimpses into the grim world of humans, the main transformation takes place in the Platonic pastel-coloured life-in-plastic where gender role reversal brought by Ken from the Real World contaminates Barbie Land. Only with the help of a mother-daughter duo from the Real World is peace restored in Barbie Land and life there can return to a new normal: the post-revolutionary pondering of gender equality, importance of individualism, and ultimate purpose of romantic love.

Barbie ending is left open to interpretation as Barbara Handler (Barbie doll turned into a woman) makes an appointment with her gynaecologist. Barbie has turned down a happily-ever-after as Ken’s eternal “bride wife” girlfriend, met her creator Ruth Handler (Rhea Perlman), and opted for a full-fledged life as a real woman, come what may. The deeper meaning of womanhood is up for the audience to debate and decide.

Meta narrative

Barbie is a tragi-comic commentary on the current trend of feminism attempting to subvert patriarchy. Like an enlightened hero, Ken introduces the notion to Barbie Land. Barbies first fall for the initial appeal of role reversal when Kens take over their dominion, only to be horrified by the model when their eyes are opened to the trap. However, it takes longer to realize that the initial governance of Barbie Land is an exact mirror of the proposed Kendom. It does not matter much whether Barbies or Kens have the upper hand as far as social structure goes since, either way, both genders of dolls are essentially sex-less. Neither possesses genitals and, hence, reproductive power, as explicitly announced by Barbie when she visits the Real World.

The dream of motherhood is crushed from the opening scenes and turns out to be the nightmarish source of Barbie’s thoughts of death, depression, and cellulite as real women still cannot have it all: respect, status, career success, and children. The audience is reminded that the only married dolls in Barbie Land, pregnant Midge (Emerald Fennell) and her husband Allan (Michael Cera), were soon discontinued by Mattel “because a pregnant doll was just too weird”. Midge gets a passing glance and is a no-show at Barbie parties and sleepovers. Allan is shown far apart from his wife, not quite a Ken, thus, evoking rather homosexual vibes. He even wears a rainbow striped T-shirt. Each Barbie holds one job the Stereotypical Barbie cannot decide upon. None is scripted to get married and raise children. As a result, matriarchy (the rule of mothers) is as unwelcome in Barbie Land as patriarchy (the rule of fathers). The only debate can be about egalitarian scripts for social behaviour of childless singles which would nonetheless ultimately play out as a compromise (not quite a win-win) in terms of positions of power and “long-term long-distance low-commitment casual” relationships in private life.

Meanwhile, the Real World of movie audience has everything figured out as far as adult world is concerned. Men and women can aim for any job, choose to be single or in any type of consensual relationship, have multiple partners, and even try out gender swap. Even the wage gap is being bridged. Everything is more or less perfect until parenthood is introduced when the dream bubble bursts. In the movie, Stereotypical Barbie and her feminist Utopia gets saved by the middle-aged mom Gloria (America Ferrera) who volunteers to help the protagonist, being aware of what stakes await Barbie Land, with a Ken uprising and Mattel executives as prosecution. Girls like Sasha (Ariana Greenblatt) can merely create a Weird Barbie (Kate McKinnon) whereas wishing to be true to the biological feminine calling can cause a personal collapse with unfathomable ramifications.

However, neither Gloria’s extensive monologue on what it is like to be a woman and simultaneously a working mom, nor Ruth’s serene warning on the pitfalls of true femininity in the Human World can stop Stereotypical Barbie from taking an informed leap of faith. She chooses to become a real woman just like Pinocchio wanted to be a real boy. At the end of the film, the audience can deduce that Barbie aka Barbara Handler has got that dream fulfilled. Perhaps she will go through Kornél Mundruczó’s Pieces of a Woman next, but even that film ends on a positive note. Thank God, AI is coming to save humankind. Let’s see if it will have any better luck in modelling a society where women can safely choose to be mothers, with that status being as coveted, financially secure, and politically independent as any high-ranking job with no strings attached.

Just Mom

The Sun is Coming

We keep on barking and barking, and barking, but the Sun is on the decline. Bloody, the Sun rises in Japan. It bleeds as the trident maple leaf in Canada. Our Sun is on the decline, but it doesn’t have to disappear in the west, we needn’t capture it in the east. The Sun must shine at Midday, in the very Middle of the Day. The Sun must shine in Latvia, as Freedom it must hold the Three Stars. From the Baltic Sea to the Black, the Sun must shine at Midday. It rises in White Sea and washes in Black. Wash the Sun’s blood in Ukraine! Its flag is pure: Golden Sun in Blue Sky. In the middle of Latvian blood, there blooms the White Sun. Join hands all the humanity! It’s time to sing and dance at the Festival of the Sun-Chosen Folk. It’s time for our Earth to heal.

Blood clots, it heals. Earth will sprout once more. But the Sun is calling. The Sun is calling for all our help: from the very lowest to the most supreme. Come together all who can: bugs, earthworms and mosquitos; eagles, ravens and swallows! Come together all the nations, it’s time to play the Sun’s game! Stars flash and twinkle beyond River Daugava, they flash in the River itself. The River of Fate is bleeding, tears flow into the Sea. White or Black, our Sea is Green, her name is Planet Earth. Come together all the nations, a neighbor to neighbor’s side! Join hands with your comrades and fellows, give your hearts to one another! Close your eyes and gaze at the Sun: See, how it sparkles, hear it singing!

The Sun must sing, the Sun must bloom, the Sun must give birth to Life. Let our Beloved Sun go! The Sun sparkles in the east, the Sun sparkles in the west. At night, it is Dear Moon who lays a star-dew pillow for the Sun. Both Russia and the USA are two blooming daughters of the Sun. None of them is wearing a crown, the hair of both fly in the wind. On our green Earth, each sister must love the other. Let Thunder thunder, friend, his is the flashing sword. Thunder is the Sun’s guardian, Thunder is the Sun’s lawyer. Let Thunder have the honor to thunder on the Sun’s behalf! Don’t make the Sun come down to die in our Black Sea! The Sun has her own Sun’s business to run, crosswise as she goes.

Here’s a cross and there’s a cross, in her hand the Golden Key. The Sun loves, the Sun sings, our Little World rests in her hands. Don’t tear apart the Sun's Little World, hold it tight so it heals! Feel the hands of your friends in yours, breathe in their pulse! Here’s a cross and there’s a cross, in our hands the Golden Key. Let’s braid the Sun’s hair, let’s braid in One crown! We are all children of the Sun, everyone matters. To the left or to the right, the Sun’s cart always rolls Straight Ahead. Criss-cross crochet, the Sun Folk love the Sun. Each child has a flag to greet the Sun. Our Beloved Sun, shine bright, shine in our Hearts! May the Moon put you to sleep instead of our tears! All the nations have gathered as if covered with snow. They aren’t covered with snow, they come with their virtue.

Each child is the Sun’s Son, the hero who must come. The Sun is one, her children many, each and everyone must come Home. Every talent is sacred to the Sun, hers is our Family, hers is our Country. Hold hands, her daughters, your task is to raise heroes! Heroes aren’t meant for war, their job is to ride the Glass Mountain. Let’s raise our hands to the rising Sun, let’s raise our hands, and, look, how it Shines! Let’s open our eyes and see only friends! We are all the Congregation of the Sun. The Sun cherishes us, the Sun loves us. Together, we must walk through Heaven. Let Thunder thunder, he is our guardian. But Thunder smiles, though flashing lightnings. Thunder knows where to put anger: put aside, put aside, lighten the load! Thus, we all have peace again. The Sun, his Beloved, is expecting their little children. Her heroes are coming Home. One Congregation in One Home, a flag for each child. A smile shines brightly on every face, a flaming crown blazing in each heart.

Riches should not be kept in a dowry, but should be passed on as in an old childhood game: from hand to hand, from mouth to mouth. The Sun gives us her Heart, we must shine it into the World. They who bury the Sun shall die. May God help us carry its Spark into the World! To share, to reproduce, to play together! Each country has its own chair, not enough for all the heads. Therefore, the Sun's song sparkles, the Sun's rite we must follow. Everyone should sit in each chair, to inherit the Sun's Wisdom. Pass it on, pass it on, don't throw the ball on the ground! The Wheel of the Sun is not an apple of discord, the Word of the Sun is the Word of God. Hers is the Kingdom of Heaven. Join hands, don’t hold back! Don’t ever hold your Love back! Love your neighbors from the bottom of Our heart and soul! Sometimes it’s very hard to find the Middle Way, especially if you have to thread the needle, but let’s try! Let’s join our hands and open our hearts! Let the Sun come! In diplomacy, it’s never about ‘me’, it’s always about ‘us’. Our World has only One Heart, though it shines in hundreds of tongues. It’s twilight. Let’s join our hands before the Hour of Midnight strikes!

1001#∞

10 Tips for Learning English

1.     Set a goal

In order to succeed, be precise and outline your targets and long-term goals. It also helps to be aware of your communicative purpose, audience, topics of interest, as well as your current skills.

What do you need English for?

Work, travelling, entertainment, global networking with like-minded people, family and relatives, etc.

Who will you communicate with?

Native speakers with advanced vocabulary and rapid speech.
Non-native speakers of various backgrounds with different English levels.
Colleagues and clients for professional purposes.
Friends and family about random topics of shared interest.

How often will you actually speak with foreigners?

Perhaps most of your communication will take place in written form as chat messages or, on the contrary, as formal and informal business correspondence. Maybe the bulk of work will be done by translators and interpreters and your job is to be able to gloss through documents to find relevant information for translation or brief interpersonal communication and small talk on business trips. Are you expected to deliver presentations and public speeches? Will this occur on a regular basis rather frequently or only on rare occasions?

Which topics are you interested in or need to cover?

Small talk and basics for travelling; entertainment, art and culture; business, politics and law; healthcare and medicine; gardening, cooking and crafts; sports, fishing and hunting, etc.

What exactly do you want to improve?

Typically, we all want to be fluent. But is it realistic? Maybe you are more interested in reading, listening, and watching audio-visual content with minimal interaction. If, however, you really need to improve speaking, consider investing more time in writing to prepare speaking about common topics of interest and work on narrative structure and grammatical accuracy. To become fluent requires developing all four core language skills (reading, listening, writing, and speaking) and work both on language perception and language production.

2.     Build vocabulary

The broader your vocabulary range, the more fluent you will become in spite of grammar mistakes. You can start with any downloadable application like Duolingo, which is great for beginners, but as you progress, more tools can come in handy. Try using visual dictionaries and children’s books, comics, and encyclopaedias to acquire basic vocabulary arranged by topics with memorable visual input. Find and create thematic glossaries for studies and quick revision of key words and specialised terms already grouped according to relevant themes. Use online synonym dictionaries called thesauruses and monolingual dictionaries to expand your vocabulary range. Write out synonym strings of common words and useful terms. Pay attention to word derivation forms. Do crossword puzzles and online quizzes.

3.     Study and revise grammar

Get access to clear, easy to understand cheat sheets of grammar rules.
Download applications for learning English.
Do online quizzes and tests.
Buy a grammar exercise book for your level with an answer key.
Sign up for an online English course.

Grammar is important to string sentences together and pass language tests, but don’t get too obsessed with accuracy when communication is key. Your goal is to get the message across, not focus on perfection.

4.     Explore your favourite topics

Join social network groups of like-minded people.
Find websites and blogs that write about your interests.
Listen and subscribe to YouTube channels and podcasts.
Read the news in English, follow TikTokers and influencers who talk about your hobbies and problems.

5.     Enjoy entertainment in English

Get more exposure to original content and guess the meaning of unknown words from the context, all while relaxing and fully enjoying your free time. There are a lot of activities you can try.

Listen to music, find lyrics, translate unknown words.
Watch films, TV series and shows with English or native language subtitles.
Read books, magazines, journals, graphic novels, and short stories.
Listen to audiobooks.
Play computer games.
Play Scrabble and communicative board, card, and party games in English.

6.     Practise English daily (or at least on regular basis)

Write to do lists and shopping lists in English.
Join online communities and find foreign friends.
Play online computer or board games where you can communicate with other players.
Travel abroad.
Join virtual reality (VR) communities.
Think visually, comment in English to avoid setbacks due to contrasting native language structures.

7.     Write, write, write

Choose a topic.
Brainstorm keywords.
Use thematic glossaries and grammar cheat sheets.
Write down missing words, look them up, add to your glossaries.
Write short sentences about the topic, check grammar, improve vocabulary.
Write more complex sentences, observe changes in meaning and equivalent structures.
Write a paragraph or short essay about the topic selected.
Improve structure, revise vocabulary, edit grammar mistakes.
Try free writing, writing a journal or diary.

Remember about the ‘Dictate’ function available in many programmes like MS Word and PowerPoint. This way you don’t necessarily need to type everything, and you get to practise pronunciation.

8.     Be creative

Write short poems and lyrics to express your emotions and observations.
Develop characters – their traits, strengths, weaknesses, appearance, hobbies, preferences, background.
Describe settings – time and place of real or imaginary world.
Create plot lines and diagrams.
Write dialogues and action scenes.
Practise showing (dramatization of events) versus telling (reporting events).
Write short stories and comic strips.

9.     Join English language courses

Sign up for online group classes.
Find in-person courses in your vicinity.
Join conversation clubs.
Consider creative workshops delivered in English.
Get a tutor and attend individual classes for more rapid growth.

10.  Schedule study time

Whether you prefer self-studies, working with a tutor, or have already joined a group with scheduled classes, make sure you have regular practice time to improve all the core skills: reading, listening, writing, and speaking. If you have no one to talk to, you can read aloud to practise pronunciation and voice your own thoughts aloud. At the end of a busy working day, choose some form of entertainment in English. If you don’t have a lot of time for written homework or written preparation of a topic feels scary, schedule writing practice in several short 15-minute sessions when your mind is fresh. Don’t worry about mistakes, you can check them later. Your primary goal is to produce language. And writing is the only way you can see it to take a step back, observe, and edit later. Luckily nowadays we have a dictate function, hence you can practice writing while speaking. Only in this case remember to also voice punctuation marks and emojis. You can check this out in the Netflix reality TV show The Circle.

In order to access a range of useful study resources (thematic glossaries, grammar cheat sheets, crosswords, and more) go to Library.

Apply for individual consultations or group classes by writing to info@aerubene.lv or calling (+371) 293 85 222.