Eat metaphysical chocolates
Modesty rose to the table again, this time more heated and I realized that it doesn't matter what each one tries to hide. It becomes visible to those who know how to read pain. And I cautiously guarded the silence made of mute screams and established a limit, a boundary. Unprepared to move forward. The meal was very heavy, not because of the topics brought to the conversation, nothing like that, but because of the itching detected right there, diagnosed to a sensitive eye that not only reads pain, but behaviors that speak much better than mouths and eyes. I kept the conclusion to myself. I share it. It is necessary to talk about everything. Of everything that causes pain and smiles. Dialogue is very important. The absence of it creates distances and misunderstandings that promote disease, human suffering, self-esteem, attacks the defense system, coping mechanisms, and breaks any attempt at human cooperation. It promotes loneliness, disinterest, exponentiates negligence, opens dangerous shortcuts that affect all human societies. It does not depend on skin color, social stratum, status, age group, gender, nation. It defines us and accompanies us until the final stretch.
-No, you wouldn't understand anything! He would need to go through all this, so that he could evaluate what one feels in the face of such a dilemma. Pain, like teeth, like the first phonemes, double laughter, can come early and, if that is the case, it is difficult to leave our lives, sometimes lasting beyond the memory of our baby teeth and canines, our marriages, our divorces, the joys, the deceased, the diaries of drunken moms, of sad grandmothers, lasting beyond us. Because it defines and shapes the memory we leave before leaving, remaining in a photo album, or in memories, in conversations revisited about this and that, may God have it, that preserved or already faded image of those who deprived us of us.
The dilemma of human suffering. We need to suffer to know how to appreciate its damage, the magnitude of its consequences, to hurt inside, from the inside out, but there are those who say that first it hurts outside. Lie, it always hurts inside. Behaviorism tells us that this is so. No. We just need to develop empathy, interest in the other, in the well-being of others. A look of observation and not of curiosity for the lives of others. Understand from the inside. Empathy is an organ that grows when we understand that the happiness of the other is healthy and contagious and that their sadness and hurt exiles them to an inaccessible place where we cannot even help. It leaves us powerless and infects us in the negative. The device fires and always comes from within. Come the pain of psychological, physical, emotional suffering. The shrapnel of it may echo on some front or in all, in some generation or in all, like the old beliefs and superstitions against black cats. Just like a fire that incinerates and takes over everything in its surroundings. Therefore, a kind of perimeter, a limiting circumference, must be created, so that it does not expand, so that it does not take over everything. Thus, it would be possible, you see, it would be possible to stop from there, from the first impact, from the first spark of fire, the pain, by columns! No child deserves to be born with a situation that promotes fires and does not prevent risks. How to do it? She didn't see the answer come out clear, but she knew it existed. There is this form of stagnation, a redemptive exercise for all human children. And that are we all? All wounded children, sickened by the countless mechanisms of pain that one day arrived and burst our dreams, dynamited everything around. To be able to dream. Even with all the pain in our pockets, dripping through our tissues, pushing us against the walls and scaffolds where we sneak away, running away from us. When, in some way, we can protect dreams, pain is like the garbage of tidal waves, which drags houses, pieces of wood, debris of what we are and what we will no longer be entirely. There were fundamentalists and defenders of suffering, there always were. Promoters even. But don't tell me that, after having had a comprehensive view of everything that the pain, the suffering of others causes, don't defend pain from me as the fine gold of endurance and endurance! Do not defend wars or use peace to justify it. They are only wanderings of matter, when it loses the thread of the spirit. The spirit does not want pain. You well know, the spirit, far beyond matter, comes to fulfill the fulfillment for evolution. And this, sir, does not come through the measurability of the apex of each sneer in the human facis.
I opened the trunk many times, my Pandora's box. That the pain made me bend and ovulate inside, obviously yes. That caused hurricanes and raised questions that I never got answers to and those that did come with a hidden address, but I knew they were mine. Because they came entirely answering what I was asking. Others, not so much. To the pains, I direct my haughty gaze, telling them of my gratitude for showing themselves, not for having rooted this revolt against the script, against the authors who provoke such magnitudes in us. In me! Could he dispense with them? What the hell is this question? I would appreciate that the children of the whole world, we as humanity did not need to bleed. But here we are, on the verge of a new war, here we are choosing tortuous paths, impregnating dreams and giving birth to broken dolls, hearts and necks compromised by lack of commitment, ignorance, lack of maturity, levity and so many adherents, so many anxieties, so many ites, that we could hardly collect in the same trunk. The worst thing was not the pain I gave birth, it was that there was no use in them to rectify the pains of other children, the damage is the one I carry everywhere, where no one but me, learns from them, to avoid being born again in other people's bodies, in other people's houses, in countries outside of them. I talk to myself, without masking any revolt or excuse, without avoiding shedding tears. Without fear of anything, because I allowed myself for some time now, to give them voice, content, expression, and coherence is the merciful act of understanding them, even if they are fractured, embracing them, even without any beauty, loving them, because they have been companions present all this life. The rag dolls, the crocheted horses and rags were soft companions, the pains were not, they were aggressive companions, they were present all the time, it didn't matter if they brought a new dress, if on a birthday, if playing with others, if in a job interview, if at a meeting of friends or family, they were always present. And they have no term of comparison with the pains that others hid from me, with the mask that one wears to disguise oneself, the makeup that one puts on to become invisible, none of that matters. They are present on the outside, but above all on the inside. Voracious animals, hungry, who, so often, do not accept reconstruction, less deconstruction, do not accept without questioning, a new smile, the energy of new beginnings. In every pain there is an hourglass. Not to determine its outcome, but to ours, as if it were a trap, a time bomb, a field mine, a dispositor that, in the approach of joy, short-circuits, an alarm only heard by us, inside, always inside, that promises to revive it to the exponent. An internal earthquake that grows to the extent of our smile or renewed hope. Vile every pain, every ghost that reminds us of our mortality, but above all of the mortality of others, those who were ports and anchors or who were not, when they should have been.
In this trunk, where I am left with old sneers, feelings of orphanhood, ridiculous forms of fear, I observe their coexistence with the other children outside of me and I would know how to name each one, not because they were revealed to me, but because I learned to read pains. In all languages, pain must be communicated, signaled, circumscribed, abolished. Abolished, yes gentlemen. After being digested, treated, stagnant. And we do this from a sick memory (but we can prevent it before the memory gets sick, maybe it's the most beautiful way of saying I'm here), the memory that accompanies us.The one we held, the one we put on bandages and tried to convalescence. We are parents and guardians of our pains and the pains of others. We produce behavioral diseases such as garbage, affective diseases, as if we did not even know of their existence, enemies cultivated in deception, naivety, lack of information, inversion of values, shame, complicity, laziness to face, looking at the face of knowledge in the sense of cowardice. The social fabric is full of this. Of that dense matter that promises much more wars than courage to face them, let alone fight. Which contains harmful seeds that will proliferate in human camps like those of Auschwitz, never to forget, like the bombs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the damage will line up until the next centuries of human hospitality, of voluntary death, recursively, causing pain in future generations. I believe that ignorance is the greatest competitor of intelligence and overcomes it by fatigue and apathy, by negligence and disinterest in the collective.And I remember quite often authors such as Bertolt Brecht, Thomas Hobbes, Zygmunt Baumann, Krishnamurti, Schopenhauer, Pessoa, Drummond de Andrade, Lao Zi, Giacomo Leopardi and so many others who would not fit in my memory and even less on this page who told us about the lack of success in eradicating human pain due to the prevalence of all human selfishness and the absence of empathy. This is shown to us by history.
The children we carry are tired, but not extinct. There is still time to avoid neighboring fires, there is still time to circumscribe and delimit the surrounding areas, to still try to combat contagion and multiplication, there is still time to avoid sacrifices and crowns of thorns in young children. What must be abolished, gentlemen, is hypocrisy, modesty, itching, shame, fear, theft, gratuitous violence, what we need to extirpate from human societies is the absence of dialogue and segregation, persecution and fanaticism, religions and wars. It is necessary to promote justice, truth and dialogue. They would be great steps for human evolution. But all this is heavy and people don't like uncomfortable conversations, which shake the supposed balance. No fuss. The solutions are heavy. It was determined that in the twenty-first century it was still too early for heavy subjects! Holy hypocrisy!
Eat small chocolates, (antidepressants and anxiolytics) that there is no more metaphysics in the world than that of chocolates! Close your eyes, clench your wrists and silence the screams. Do not show weaknesses, we all have a heavy ordeal to take, everyone, even the children we guarantee to love. Nothing! We have to protect children from adults! And this is a malady segregated in all aspects. What is the lobby that protects pedophiles? Narcissists? The criminals? Oh, fuck! I know, it's the lobby of the holy power. May a god of others come to allow it then! Here, we need to grow. The pain of our inner children is sickening the world! Talk about suffering! Don't be prudish, man, be metaphysical!
Children need to be informed of human completeness covered with shadows and light. Dialogue cannot be segregated, nor can the harms of cigarettes, men, fast food, stress, toxic relationships, bullying and the whys and wherefores of all this. They will understand, they can believe it. And their innocence is not torn with the truth!
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