La crisis de identidad del otoño.

Me resulta familiar, sobre todo en el otoño (boreal, puesto que vivo en el hemisferio norte) escuchar cada año acerca de su caracter poético: de como es la estación más bella, la cadencia de las hojas al viento, la lánguida paleta de colores de la flora preparada a dormir; y sobre todo, el fin del calor infernal al que nos tiene sometido el cambio climático. En fin, clichés, clichés. Muchos clichés. Yo pienso en el otoño como una primavera a la inversa, con todo y su equinoccio. Pero tiene una peculiar traza de inestabilidad mental que no encuentro en ninguna otra estación. Si bien la primavera también es cambiante, es relativamente predecible a lo largo de los días (salvo, de nuevo, el horror del daño al ambiente). El otoño guarda en si una confusión. Se sabe camino al invierno, pero posee una mano con muchas cartas de las estaciones restantes y las va jugando como si no le importase demasiado traer a octubre la primavera, la nieve a septiembre o el viento de marzo a los albores de diciembre.

El otoño no abraza la locura, sólo es inestable, una inestabilidad mesurada que en su mesura desmesura todo (pffft).

Tiene muchos "días extraviados":

Porque muchas veces, en tal tiempo del año, se encuentra un día extraviado que pertenece a una estación distinta y que tiene la propiedad de hacernos vivir en esa época, evocando sus placeres, haciéndonoslos desear, y que viene a interrumpir las ilusiones que nos estábamos forjando, colocando fuera de su sitio, más allá o más acá, esa hoja arrancada de otro capítulo en el calendario interpolado de la felicidad

Marcel Proust, En busca del tiempo perdido. Por el Camino de Swann.

Tal vez sea por ello que sea una estación tan socorrida "sentimentalmente".

The answer to your paradoxical questions

A very frequent and maybe inconscious ask for forgiveness. How can I deny it to you. But you ask carelessly, without even knowing that there is just one thing that deserves such petition. And the paradox is that it is not your fault. The thought do not appear to your mind, the feeling isn't printed in your soul. Maybe I'm just a captive of my subjetivity, of my reality (if I can call it that way). Trapped temporarily in the way I think about you and feel about you. May it be for the best. Ignorance is bliss.

Vorágine.

No puedo recordar si antes había usado este título para alguna entrada y no tengo deseos de revisar en este preciso instante. A pesar de mi intención de llenar este escrito de tropos, metáforas, metonimia y cualquier maquillaje retórico que disimule mi palurdez literaria, se impone mi necesidad de expresión cruda y dura.

¿Vorágine? Vorágine. Voragine, vorágine, vorágine, vorágine, vorágine. Cuando dices mucho una palabra parece perder el sentido por momentos. Así quisiera poder repetir mis sentimientos, una y otra vez, para sumir su sentido en el ojo de esa vorágine, vorágine, vorágine.

Pero no me resulta posible, están atrapados, justo entre el gaznate y el plexo solar (donde quiera que estén ambas partes). Entre un chakra y otro chakra. Aturdiendo los cinco séntidos y fuera del alcance del sexto (y el séptimo).

Y aún así, a pesar de estar atrapado, siento una extraña sensación. Es mejor sentir esto a no sentir nada. Y mientras lo escribo me arrepiento. Y me arrepiento de arrepentirme. Y recuerdo que el arrepentimiento es inadecuado.

Finalizo.

I have a little bit of a crush

So, there is no other way to define it. And yes, on the riptide of feelings that accompany this precise one, comes another. At least there is no denial like other times. On the positive side of things, well, it's a reminder that my heart is not hollow or petrified.

But that might be the other issue. As much as I know that my feelings toward the "person" (object sounds horrible) of my affection aren't possible, I still have them. That's a conflict. It is not possible to think clearly (of course hehehehehe). Nothing that can be solved by algorithms or logic. Only time? Only a miracle? What then? Who knows.

Leaving now. It's getting late.

Holding everything together.

So, maybe in some sense (or even in all sense), a phrase from certain writer thinker (I can't remember the exact words right now) it's true: we have a driving inner force to perseverate in our life. Maybe that's why I feel right now so baffled and tired. I might have neglected or overlooked at it for...what, years, lustrums, maybe a decade or so? Even thinking about it frightens me. And makes me sad about the time. But the same thinker said: "there's no use in regretting". (not the exact words again).

The point is (as I am trying to conclude in a crude manner) that you cannot expect the life to just "go on". Even for issues like feelings, sentiments, and so it is necessary an active participation. Conscious if you want to. Just my two cents. Not a medical or psychological advice. This opinion can even change through the years (or through the lectures). But right now, it seems to be the state of the affairs. Grabbing all the edges of your existence and directing them can be a very hard and demanding activity. And you cannot expect the world, the universe, the others, or God to do it by yourself.

Infatuation.

One problem with feelings is that they come at their own will. Somehow learning to identify them gives an advantage but there is always a question: what can you do with them?

Maybe just cope with them. But infatuation is a misleading one. You may feel excited about it, but you know it pushes your will towards someone that won't share your enthusiasm.

Anyway, this was just a quick post. I didnt' want to go to sleep with this in my chest.

Torrent.

Leaves aren't falling yet, but autumn is here now. But this new month has some strayed days from spring and summer, where you can be bathed by the bliss of the sun at noon and washed by cold rain drops at the evening.

Seasons are changing. Everything keeps changing. People changes, I guess. Even if it's a common idea to negate it, nothing is, nor can be permanent. Everyday I convince myself of that. Not even feelings, mind, or even some apparently stable mode of being.

Is this change slow paced or fast? Depends. But if I write about it now, is because I felt something different. A torrent. Or a stream. Flowing upon me. Somehow, I now I am the same, but at the same time, paradoxically, I have changed. Translocation might have helped to operate this changed. To isolate me in a pocket of reality and time, away from petty and big issues, bracketing the time while time were still flowing and meanwhile giving a chance to be. To open up. Could it be? Or is it just an illusion? If so, it feels so authentic, vivid as reality, even more.

If the mind and or spirit were conformed of gears and such mechanisms, some sort of adjustment would have been made. A slight variation, a difference that consolidates reality in such a different way. The mighty stream of feelings, with its overwhelming impact creates a new notion in my consciousness.

More than a week of contemplation of art, of giving some little pleasures, was a week of feeling. And to feel is always a challenge. A challenge to the stability of mental issues, to the stagnation and the fear, and to the denial of feeling itself. Feeling and being became a coherent duality to function: impossible to close one's eyes and negate its existence.

An unfolding of possibilities comes up with the recognition of the fact of feeling. It brings up the capacity to act. But, even if it is tautological, the capacity to feel in a broader sense, instead of holding back the sensation. This might be just a rambling, but sometimes, the right time, space, circumstance, recognition and, most important, the right connections may bring a change: of mind, of spirit, of heart. In my person, that change could be the possibility to let other to enter my life. Scary. Don't know if that is really what happened. Don't know it's permanent. Neither if it's real. Just that I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same.

End of rambling. Start of hope (don't care if hope is rejected by some thinkers).

Disconnection

A disconnection is defined as breaking the connection of or between. A connection is a relationship in which a person , thing or idea is linked or associated with something else (just for clarifying the obviousness of dictionaries). So... Things are connected and disconnected. Even thoughts and feelings. And probably that's the cause of many discomforts. Perceptions that lead to thoughts. And these thoughts or mental representations lead to feelings. But the connection doesn't seem logical. Somehow I know that my feelings aren't...right. And that brings me to the recent past, when I was complaining (yet again) about my inhability to make a choice. To choose the people I like, or whom I feel attracted to.

An so on, this maze of connections and disconnections becomes even more twisted. When I thought that I got rid of the burden of what I call "evil feelings" or thoughts. some conversation, or situation, bring it back to the surface. And suddenly I look at my past...make comparisons, and let the grudge grow. And I cannot change my past, nor obtain another one.

So confusion ensues. And resentment.

'Til next one, even if no one reads. Next one probably won't have nothing to do with this one. Maybe will be related. We'll see.

Una probada

Un buen zapatero hace el mejor calzado con el cuero que se le da

Aristóteles - Ética Nicomáquea.

25 de marzo de 3019 de la tercera edad del sol.

Otro aniversario, esta vez de la caída de Sauron.

Jueves 24 de marzo de 2005 - Jueves 24 de marzo de 2011.

Apenas hoy reparo en que hace 6 años estos días fueron el mismo (jueves). Hace demasiado que no escribia. Tengo mis razones para hacer esta pausa, pero no podía dejar pasar este aniversario mas. Un aniversario y una peculiar casualidad. Que cosas.

Lo dijo mejor que yo.

La mayoría de las personas que conocemos no nos inspiran más que indiferencia; de modo que cuando en un ser depositamos grandes posibilidades de pena o de alegría para nuestro corazón, se nos figura que pertenece a otro mundo, se envuelve en poesía, convierte nuestra vida en una gran llanura donde nosotros no apreciamos mas que la distancia que de él nos separa.

Marcel Proust. Por el camino de Swann.

Status: alguien lo escribió mejor.

Ocurre muy a menudo. Alguien escribe mejor en algunas estrofas de lo que yo podría en cientos de líneas. Más ahora, cuando las palabras se confunden en su trayecto de mi mente a mi voz, o en este caso a mis dedos:

Feel like a big old stone
Standing by a strength of my own
But every time the morning breaks
I know I'm closer to falling

I'm all out of love, all out of faith
I would give everything just for a taste
Everything's here, all out of place
Losing my memory...

No sé lo que piensan acerca de esto, pero se como se siente, se la impresión que da. Como dice un mediático anuncio de la hoy tan popular (y por desgracia, creo tan prostituida) psicología: la realidad puede parecer muy subjetiva. Es por esto mi intento de mostrarles mi percepción hasta donde sea posible. ¿De nuevo, tiene algún caso, o sentido? Creo, de nuevo, que si. De otro modo no lo estaría haciendo. Soy un humano y algo en mi requiere intentar establecer un vínculo con ustedes, quiensea el destinatario de esta voz.

Ahora, el siguiente mensaje lo dejó aquí, después de haberlo tomado. Veo una necesidad inminente en él:

You're asking for friendly advice
And remaining in permanent crisis
Affection is yours if you ask
But first you must take off your mask

In two or three words; how do you feel?

For me, it always have been difficult to tell how I feel. If might be evident, as I am not (or I was not) good at hiding some reactions. But I think everyone is an open book for those with the ability to read it. Right now school should be joyful. But at my face I find it stressful and unenjoyable. That's not right to me as it produces suffering. Unnecesary suffering, as I can tell. But that was a small deviation from the original theme. I guess I have a problem telling someone how I feel. That person is very important to me and I tend to see only defects and vices, which I can't tell if they really exist or not. Well of course, nobody is perfect, but focusing on negative aspects cannot be a good politic. I really want to tell that person: I like you, I love you and I will do the best for you, for your happiness. But everytime we meet, a sound can't escape my throat, nor a thought my mind. And I have to stare at him at the mirror, again....

Patience

The greatest of virtues it seems. Patience is priceless, unvaluable and ever desired by everyone. Who doesn't want to be able to stand the multiples delays of life, the unevitable waiting for something better, the arrival of someone to an appointment.

But those are only the shallow powers of this divine gift, for it would serve perfectly for those with hopes and expectations. Do you hope your pain ends, do you expect your suffering to stop. Well, then patience will be your pharmakon, the perfect remedy. And it will be definitely necessary. Its nexus with hope appears as a "conditio sine qua non". Hope and Patience must be always together. Of course this not always happens. Then, the consequence is suffering. How do you expect something which you don't know when it will occur (in case it occurs)?

Indeed a gift, a stoic one. But if someone comes with a method to develop, train, create patience, please, shut it out loud, write me an email or leave a comment.

Not that I don't like you...

Luckily for me I just remembered August 2 years ago. Now things are different (yes, are, not seem to be). But anyhow, that was just a bit of memories. If something has to be fixed that is, precisely, the permanent gaze upon the past and the future (not denying their relevance, but present is always more important, and the only one that exists).

This thoughts doesn't seem very structured, nor the title adjust to the contents. Of course that I don't like a lot of things. And I would like to shut them out loud. But somehow, education, tradition, habit tend to restrain the desire. Also, fears are still there. The human condition, said a lot of writers, intelectuals and people in their works, a bar, a cafe, or even a bus stop, trying to solve the world with words of pedestrian wisdom. Am I too harsh? I hope not. Or do I hope to be? Fear. Fear is a constant. How to live with it? A permanent stock of prescription drugs? Non prescriptions drugs like alcohol, coffee, soft drinks, cookies, or even that disgusting thing called tobacco? Some think that the idea of a divinity helps to overcome the fears. That doesn't seem to be logical, as major semitic religions instill fear into the hearts of men. God is there, but the humans try to hide him.

Caution breathes a lonely breath...

Change. Why to cherish stability if change is the only stable thing? Hehehe. Now I am trying to solve the world with words of wisdom. Pedestrian wisdom. Well. I recall my words. I am just pointing out, destroying, or trying to destroy. Can't believe that I'm doing what Nietszche wrote in his "Philosopher's book".

This post should come to an end soon. This is too scattered and the objective is not being achieved. If there is such thing as an objective. It might be just the same as the majority of this posts, trying to express, like a painter express something with his work without giving it a recognizable shape or order, like a poet express without using logic, or even metrics. Maybe just trying to express something to me through the exterior. To realize that life is. That things can happen and will happen. And that some things have to be triggered, constructed, nurtured, created, birthed...

Good night

For humans.

The way most of abrahamic or modern major religions are configured points to the idea that they are made for destroying people in some way. As a firm believer of a higher power I just can't understand the major degree of evil present in some so-called "men of God". Anyway, that's not the point.

Recently I have been thinking about buddhism. If I may say, that religion-philosophy-way of thought has caught my interest years ago. But I remember one idea that arisen when thinking about it. It's pretty much for the sake of human. Its main purpose it's quite simple: to stop the human suffering. You don't have to buy an indulgence, kiss some bishop ring or think of yourself as a sinner.

You have a path to follow to stop suffering. And you can do it now. You reach it now, and you got it forever. Honestly it isn't surprising the popularity that it had in Asia. The fact that surprise me is that isn't even more popular. But who knows... religion of philosophy it seems to be a real pharmakon. It makes me think of the stoics combined with the Epicurus. Anyway, just a bit of thought for tonight.

Life unscripted.

Haven't written in a while. But I am sure any reader should be aware of that, considering that every post has its date. I may say, things have been better since vacations ended. Before being whacked with some blunt object, let me explain: vacations are great if you have the money to travel and/or the oportunity to do something different, a boyfriend/girlfriend to fool around, some gang of friends, etc etc. In case of lack of all these factors, vacations can be just a time to think about all the bloody things that happen, how the world will end soon, all the diseases you may have....the list can go on, but the point has been made.

Now, the script is going on. The writer seems to be more condescending, or at least optimist. But i have yet to know if the writer is God, or if I write.

Pray the night.

Is it any wonder? I don't know. Yeah, that's my favorite phrase, whatever. I was banished from the kingdom of the good and true. So I stand here. I was planning to write on things that happened long ago (May) but suddenly I felt so angered and bothered, so I decided that was meaningless. Just as everything seems to be. Reality daunts me as I try to grasp it and to decide what to do. In any case, that effort turns into a complicated net of perceptions, feelings and comparisons. Trying to find answers doesn't look like the right choice. May was a turmoil..confusion, and impending deadlines. June becomes intense heat and a feeling of What the fuck am I doing. July morphs into fear of everything. I would like to have hope. Or better than hope. Faith. Hope is expect. Faith is being sure. Being sure that things might have a meaning and that life is more than fear, than anxiety, than shame, pain and suffering.

¿Es realmente necesario?

Eventualmente seguire con algunas otras reflexiones. Pero ahora es verano, fin de cursos escolares en los paises del hemisferio noroccidental. Y yo me pregunto....¿es realmente necesario tener que tragar todas las malditas ceremonias de graduación?. Son una verdadera pena. Primero que nada gran parte de las escuelas utilizan una musicalización cursi y trillada, claro, pero siempre tratando de dar "realce" o como se diga al evento. En segundo, prácticamente se esta acostumbrando hacer una maldita graduación para cada ciclo: guarderia, jardín de niños, primaria, secundaria, preparatoria, etc. Las graduaciones supuestamente eran para otorgar títulos: bachiller, licenciado, doctor. ¿Por qué carajos entonces hacer las de secundaria, primaria y jardín? Estupideces y pérdida de tiempo. Prácticamente sólo los masoquistas gustan de estas ceremonias vanas.

Para colmo, como ahora cualquiera se "gradua" hasta de licenciatura, (ohh y esto es motivo de vanagloria para los directivos) estas ceremonias suelen ser masivas. Hablan a cada promovido uno a uno entregándoles sus "documentos" (que en la mayoría de los casos, dada la burocracia del sistema educativo y la premura de los planteles, no son más que una carpeta con una hoja medio impresa representando dichos documentos, los cuales llegan meses después).

Además, muy probablemente la ceremonia tendra lugar en un salón de eventos (el cuál estará bastante lleno, amontonado, caluroso, con un mobiliario bastante incómodo y decoración de unicel-nieve seca muy ordinaria), en un gimnasio (lugar no diseñado para este tipo de eventos, si bien algo menos incómodo), o con suerte un buen auditorio (rogemos porque no le afeen con su decoración).

Ahora, el aspecto técnico. Con la llegada de la tecnología ahora lo "in" es mostrar diapositivas por medio de un proyector electrónico. La realidad es que, dadas las condiciones de iluminación, es casi seguro que la proyección no se aprecie bien o ni siquiera sea visible. Ahora, no sé, pero cualquier presentación pierde totalmente su impacto si es posible ver "tras bambalinas" todo el proceso. Concretamente: las aplicaciones más populares de presentación (Power Point, Presentations, Open Office, Keynote) tienen una opción para evitar que veamos el escritorio del la computadora en cuestión, ver como el encargado inicia su sistema operativo, hace click, abre el archivo (y de paso vemos en la memoria toooda su creatividad para nombrar) y comienza el pase de diapositivas. Pero no, ya se paso, regresa otras cinco diapositivas hasta que ya queda listo para empezar. Y no me hagan hablar del sonido. El sonido tiende a ser horroroso.

La organización tiende a ser nefasta, todos quieren estar encima del graduando, los fotógrafos se amontonan y si ya tuvo a bien empezar el evento (raro si es puntual) y empiezan a besarle el #@l0 a los representantes de las autoridades (las autoridades siempre estan muuuuy ocupadas en cosas importantes como para asistir). Comienzan discursos interminables donde se mezcla la lambisconería, la falacia y el proselitismo político entre otras cosas. Numeros musicales y artísticos, me parecen bien, siempre y cuando sean breves y atinentes, y no interminables y mal organizados. Es una graduación, no un maldito recital o concierto.

Tampoco pueden faltar los niños corriendo por cada pasillo, los bebes llorando (para que diablos los llevan...si alguien no disfruta estos eventos, son ellos), la gente llegando tarde, apresurada para cumplir el "compromiso" con su familiar atravesando los angostos pasillos donde la gente se encuentra ya apiñada, sudorosa, olorosa, acalorada.

Año con año se empeñan en repetir este miserable ritual, cada vez en formas mas barrocas (que a fin de cuenta derivan en un espectáculo Kitsch...bueno ni siquiera kitsch). Nadie lo disfruta, es un gasto innecesario. Si hay que hacer una ceremonia, que sea breve, discreta, elegante, agradable, donde permanezca un buen recuerdo, no un deber malentendido e incomodidad innecesaria durante 3 o mas horas.