In Times Which Seem Like Self-Psychotherapy He Says To Himself:
Oh, Vienna

Novel: Times 1–4, Chapter 50 But I wasn’t at one, I wasn’t at ease

Niet van der Zand
3 min readMay 23


The society around me couldn’t get through to me; eventually the easiest path was to discard me, to forget about me, which looking back didn’t help me, nor did it help anyone else either for that matter.

Do schools now take psychology and philosophy more seriously; have we moved on from rote learning to genuine understanding. Are we developing personal tools, a skill set, with conversation, encouraging empathy with others at the very core of the curriculum.

I wanted to be with you

Then I didn’t want to be with you

It didn’t make any sense to me then

I don’t want to be with you

Then I do want to be with you

It doesn’t make any sense to me now

I have to tell you that I am writing this in order to fill time in my workplace; I have nothing that I have to do, I have nothing that I want to do, other than to escape, to place these words here for you. I am on the home straight now, just one quarter of an hour to go, to add on to the eight and a quarter hours which have already passed. It seems such a waste, I am thoroughly saddened by the wastefulness.

I read this from Osho: The capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. It may look paradoxical to you, but it is not. It is an existential truth: only those people who are capable of being alone are capable of love, of sharing, of going into the deepest core of the other person — without possessing the other, without becoming dependent on the other, without reducing the other to a thing, and without becoming addicted to the other. I struggled to find my capacity to be alone, in the sense which I believe Osho means to be alone; yet I often was alone, yet I wasn’t often lonely, in those times of absolute aloneness.

But I wasn’t at one, I wasn’t at ease; when I have sought out solitude I haven’t found the peace, or the calm, or the joy. Most certainly I never found the absolute joy in aloneness, not in the same way in which I found that joy when I was together with you. That joy did extend; to being…



Niet van der Zand

words often hidden from ones inner self