First. This is a bit strange post, just to say it before you read. It's sad, given the argument, it's intimistic, and I hope not so dark, a bit unbearable, absolutely personal, of no interest except for those good friends who read me in the net, with whom I have a relationship of continuous astonishment ("You truly you read me? Ah.").
Today it's one year since my father disappeared. Therefore, cold, I write it so I then say the same to me and to you. His memory in my heart is always alive, and always suffers everier time that I rethink to how much I could be better, with him, when he was here.
I do not know which type of purgatory he is doing now, but surely all that problems that I have made to him while he was still alive, will be very useful now. On the other side, I think by now he has finally understood that I wanted so much love to him, although I never succeeded to say it to him. And this, sincerely, is Bad.
In kind, each time it happens something important, there's an anecdote to tell. In effect, I don't have so much wish to tell now, but... the anecdote is much simple.
Yesterday I was in phone with a dear friend of mine, and I was remembering to him 'You know, tomorrow is a year that...'. Then he says 'It's already passed a year.' a bit darkened. So he asked me: 'You have felt this year?'
I obviously answered yes. For me this has been a year lived intensely, much difficult, much dense and... a lot suffered. Before the passing of my father, then a sentimental story that I was living so much. Nevertheless, this question has made me reflecting.
One year is gone. And, apart from the suffering, the pain for the beloved persons, what has happened in me?
In the conversations between Morpheus and Neo, in the interesting "Matrix" movie (the first one), there's this phrase that's one of most hitting me: "It's all the life that you have the feeling that is something not quadrant in the world. You do not know well what it's about, but you perceive it".
How many of us have thought the same things, and continue to having this same feelings, as I have had.
We perceive when we see the suffering on the face of the others, when we see a unjustice on a brother, when we think to the outrages but also when we feel ourselves in guilt, for having more than it's up to us, and we ask ourselves which sense has this disparity.
We perceive when we read the history books, when we assist to the natural catastrophes, when we endure twisting, when, in bottom, we do not succeed to understand the logic that there is behind all this.
Nevertheless we know already the answer: just like in Matrix, the problem is the question. Everyone gives the own answer, the own life key, the way in order to go ahead: who tries to believe in the immutable laws of the universe, like if were one that is there from eternity, who believes in religious kinds...
We have the religions, yes, that they supply the answers. But Jesus, in particular, was much precise one and revealed, something of disturbing on that Jewish one (but he is not about that I wanted to speak now).
When we try to make ourself that question, we always end in the order to deceive to discover some new illusions. In the film Keanu Reeves will ask "What is the Matrix" and the illusion will be that it's a machine, even a bit mystical, but always bad.
In the question there is therefore the paradox of knowing that often the answer is within of us.
Well, if I can say to have made something in this year, this is the inner search. To face ourselves, believe to me, is the more difficult thing. Often we fight against us, and obviously, we are our worst enemy. I'm still searching..
I like to have discovered this phrase just yesterday, reading for case one of Hermann Hesse.
'If you hate a person,
you hate something in him that is part of yourself. What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us.'
Recent Comments