Truth, lies and mediatism

 

There was a time, long gone, for me, who am old, but nevertheless very important, a time when life's teachers and the environment formed our character and personality. In that golden age when we believed in the immortality of the body, we played "truth or dare". Anyone who doesn't remember it didn't grow up in my time. I was born in 1968.

What did the game consist of?

A group of boys, who must have known each other at least a little (this game was played between neighbours, classmates, cousins ​​and siblings and, at that age, no one knows anyone, not even themselves), risked pushing the limits, testing their pulse, and, addressing any of the participants in the game, asked them a question that they wanted answered. There were only two ways out of the question raised: truth or dare, because we refused to answer. I remember some games and I can't even write that I miss them, that would be untrue. I don't miss anything that happened after the departure of my father, grandfather Rodrigo, my brother, grandmother Bina, Cláudia, Fernanda, Viriato, aunt Carmen and now, more recently, uncle Mingos. Now that immortality has gone, which coexists very closely with the game of truth and consequence, now that I only find beauty in very rare souls, in nature and animals, now that I understand that we don't know the unfathomable mysteries, now I only miss the future.

The consequences of the game ranged from the serious look or the laugh, as a confession, to the question asked earlier, which was the most elusive way of tripping someone up (in search of the truth), from the harmless kiss on the cheek, to the elaborate or childish stratagem, trying to be seen as something malicious or, effectively, as something truly innocent. We always discover the other in the mirrored way in which we live our experience and reality of the environment. And where I see shadow, another will see light. Today, when I heard my mother exchanging pleasantries with a man her age, perhaps older and still active, I realized that what frustrates us today about the past has only to do with our expectations, when compared to the passing of time and the loss of opportunities, and/or correction of mistakes. Isn't that where we lose the now, in that yesterday, so flowery with the passing of days and so distant? What was good in the past were not machines, nor progress, what made time shiver happily were people, human attitudes, the mitigating factors that today serve to remind us that if Don Quixote sees windmills, then they must have been windmills and giants, all mixed together, saying that it was a sadly happy time, or unfortunately sad, and still choosing not to miss it. Because everything is good while it lasts, in a match, and everything lasts too long when it is bad. The choice is internal. The game of life goes on, but what leaves its mark on us, in my opinion, are people, animals, seasons, flowers and fruits. The lessons that are not consciously chosen, at least from my perspective, also leave their mark on us when we decide to learn. If we do not learn due to carelessness, negligence, naivety, pushing ourselves to the limits imposed on us, obsolete standards or bullying, diarrhea, dandruff or kunami, it will be a leap year or an unlucky one. For me, the hardest lesson is that of human conduct. Believing in human beings today is harder, but that is when I believe in myself the most. I am a human being. And overcoming difficulties and pain requires adaptability and flexibility. And that only comes with maturity. For me, this task is arduous. If we are creative, if we use our imagination, if we know what a dream is made of (all human beings, when hurt, learn to dream), it should become easy to be flexible. Except when we are taught to be strict. With ourselves. With others. It doesn't matter. Everything becomes Herculean when the format demands of us what goes against the grain, that is, our true nature. This is where we can see the duality within us, but "wait, what I want has nothing to do with what others taught me to be". Overcoming it.

Learning resilience is more important than saying that a leap year is a year of misfortune or good fortune; reading someone's soul is the natural order of life itself. It's not luck. It's will and desire. God, love and friendship, on the other hand, are unconscious ideas that are part of the path, of the journeys, I mean that they are innate in us; lies, like consequences, are not innate but learned. To serve our purposes. Not always noble ones. And everyone lies. Lies so as not to hurt, or lies to hurt. Tiny lies or dense, heavy lies, the size of the twin towers, or of the sterile branches that seem to never wither, to remind us that there once existed an unfinished truth. Something unshakable that seems to never let go of our skin. Life teaches us. If we don't learn, consequences will follow. Life is each person's truth happening, materializing. The consequence is a moment in which we meritoriously collect what is ours, by right. If mistakes are corrected, the truth is legitimized. When we don't, we legitimize the act of pushing Saturn with our belly and its rigidity entering us, knocking down the sandcastles we have invented for ourselves or for others, and boom, a view. Or both. Or...

I believe in life. I have seen the tail of death and it is called illusion. Nothing dies, everything transforms. Even the vehicle we inhabit. But we are more than a body. And this is the most enlightened awareness I have of the human being. We are not only human, but immortal students. One day I thought I would know a lot when I grew up, and now that I have lived through so many winters, I realize every day that I know nothing, or that what I know fits in a bag of Pingo Doce. Today, because of this, I will heal a wound. Today, by accepting my modesty, by embracing my insignificance, I have taken another step in this adventure that has its days numbered, but that should not be counted. I have learned that life is a vibrational frequency where the quality of the impulse should prevail over quantity. It does not matter how much pain, what matters is the impact, the depth with which we surrender ourselves to the experience and to the so-called overcoming. An eraser doesn't come to erase anything, it's a flash of lightning that signals to us, in this synaptic, cognitive encounter, that if we had let ourselves be guided by pure intuition, by the heart at the exact moment of learning, everything would be easier.

Today I found many lies and dismantled them. I don't watch television, except when I'm talking to my mother who, to distract herself, watches SIC every day, and boom, in both views. There was the lie dressed as truth, wanting to parade for the so-called populism that I put in the text's headline, next to the truth and the lie. Because the projection of populism makes (falling) stars of everyone and rolls out the carpet and hides the trash. The woman was talking about domestic violence. Experienced in the second person. The mother lived through horrors. The woman who spoke on Júlia's show lied with all her teeth. That lady who, when I was 28, I hired as a backing singer for the musical band I named after myself, Bailarte, said she had been hired as a vocalist. The band Bailarte had only one vocalist, Ivo. A great vocalist, by the way. He had worked with La Feria. In the absence of falsettos, voices that embellish the music, creating background, we found ourselves needing to hire another backing vocalist. But let's not be mistaken, Ivo's voice was beautiful and full-bodied. And he sang with passion. She became that backing vocalist. She never charmed anyone, but she sang. The man she is talking about is not her ex-husband, but herself. Before she fell ill with the brain tumor of soft tissue origin, the man who would become her husband and now ex-husband had already been very ill. And I believe that loneliness always haunted him. He married her because of his illness, to protect and safeguard his daughters in terms of his assets, and of course, because of the immense pressure she felt. She didn't want to be happy or devoted, she wanted to get married. And she did. The only truth she told about the man she talks about is that he was married when she met him. She married three times. He never "bothered" to get a divorce. She was like me, she hated bureaucracy and paperwork. She had never had anyone demand marriage in exchange for love. It was my partner, with whom I had lived for 13 years and with whom I had my first child. He seduced her after she was hired as a chorus girl, not letting her leave the studio where he had always worked like a slave, and using the cunning of an old fox. She was still a girl, but she had already learned a lot, and after asking me for a damn lingerie and having spent two days in our house, I saw him leave, not even two months later. And she mentions that he cheated on her. They will always do to us what we did to someone else, won't they? Népia, it's Saturn. Referring to his current girlfriend as a café waitress, he gives the slight idea of ​​prejudice against the restaurant staff, she who had worked so much behind the counter, as if merit were being a chorus girl, a person who uses others to climb the social ladder, in this case, to succeed in the world of music. If she were a showgirl, a manicurist or a Prosegur security guard, would it be less embarrassing for her to be replaced by a bullet of justice, someone just like her, that's what it would be. There are brooches that can't even be made with soap to imitate TV stars, like "bread and butter" or "I left everything for her, I left, I left". I agree with Ágata in "you can have everything, but you can't have him".

The lie is so chaste and pure that I no longer delude myself with the society that I intend to continue criticizing. It outrages me to see people whose character is beyond doubt and without being tarnished being defamed. A generous man. Dedicated. Unhappily married, I heard her say. My mother, next to me, who had found her a job in a so-called nursing home as a cook, who didn't even make anyone's stomach happy when she cooked, said: liar, look at that liar! It's true, mother. There is nothing uglier than using others to climb the ladder. Are we used to horizontal climbing? It is unworthy to continue using the same man who used you for over 20 years, in the ugliest, dirtiest way, with lies, to ennoble yourself! Very noble. No applause. The music video doesn't reach the necessary subscriptions, I'm going on TV to use it as a marketing ploy, because I was exchanged for a mixed toast and half a glass of milk. The lie is so sad and vain that I bet that the makeup, brooch and other buns will run out of stock. I buy subscribers. And I'll go there and be right back. To get my little life together, the lack of ethics and the attack on morality doesn't matter. I'll pass over the means to achieve my ends! What I want is a stage, lights, action. And by the way, another idiot to support my luxuries and say that I sing well outside the shower. Let me add a hint to the poorly staged play: If lies need makeup, the truth can come naked and even ordinary. Truth or consequence?

Sit Ubu, sit. Nice dog.