"Though it had wings it still looked back"

Those Good Old Friends

     Tento há muitos anos encontrar amigos de infância e adolescência. Consegui localizar alguns ciscando sites de endereços, revolvendo sobrenomes em bancos de dados como um consumidor em fim de feira buscando algum velho tesouro escondido. Às vezes sinto que procuro quem não quer ser encontrado.

     Assim, já com cara de imbecil, esses meus olhos materiais resolveram encarar os do espírito e perguntaram:

- por que essa busca?

     Os do espírito, cheios de pretensa sabedoria, estabilidade e equilíbrio tinham a resposta na ponta da língua com requintes de dramaticidade tendentes à tragédia:

- ora, o quanto foi bom ter descoberto o universo junto com aquelas pessoas merece ser rememorado e compartilhado agora que as inseguranças foram vencidas e que bom seria o reencontro, as velhas brincadeiras inteligentes identificadoras da afinidade que sempre nos permeou.

     Aí esses olhos, de imbecis passaram a sarcásticos, esboçando aquele sorrisozinho encoberto, silencioso e de perfil indicador do reverso do sentimento anímico ingênuo, antiquado e fundado em expectativas que dependem mais das variáveis de terceiros do que de si mesmo e os esses olhos alfinetaram:

- ...e os outros amigos sabem disso e estão sintonizados na mesma freqüência da rádio saudosista que Vossas Inocências? e mais, que obrigação eles têm de estar disponíveis à procura? se quisessem continuar a descoberta do universo usando as lanternas daquela época, eles se fariam conhecer.

     Agora já sem tanta certeza os estrábicos olhos etéreos pasmos de espanto volveram espaços e tempos e acordaram. Não dormiam. Entraram em acordo com os zarolhos olhos físicos. Enxergaram que o tempo passando implica que novas ferramentas trabalham mentes o tempo todo. A partir de quando os amigos se separam, embora ainda se amem e a afinidade conduza para condicionamentos e conclusões ainda congruentes, os interesses são outros, os problemas também.

     Não é culpa de ninguém. É a vida. Somos nós, os humanos. Mutantes com memória. Às vezes é bom. Às vezes dói tentar que a felicidade se repita. Memória!

     Dizem agora, em quase sintonia, os olhos do espírito com os do corpo: admitimos que amamos nossos amigos de infância e adolescência. Graças a Deus que os conhecemos. Fomos muito bons uns para os outros no passado. E sentimos que seremos ainda melhores se formos deixados lá, no passado, prezando as boas lembranças.

Aqueles bons e velhos amigos.

     I have tried for a long time to find my childhood and adolescence friends. I managed to find some by scratching address sites, rummaging names in data basis like a costumer at the end of a fair looking for hidden treasures. Sometimes I feel like looking for who doesn’t want to be found.

     So, feeling like a fool, these material eyes of mine decided to face those of the soul and asked:

-why searching?

     Those eyes of the spirit, full of pretentious wisdom, stability and equilibrium had the answer on tip of the tongue with touches of drama trending to tragedy:

-Now, how good it was to have discovered the universe together with those persons and it deserves to be recalled and shared again now that the insecure feelings have passed and how good it would be meeting again, those intelligent jokes which identified the affinity that always permeated our thoughts.

     Then, these eyes, changing from foolish to sarcastic, drawing that hidden silent smile indicating the reverse of the ingenuous spiritual feeling, old fashioned and bound to expectations that depend more on variables of others than in themselves and these very eyes stabbed:

-…and the other friends, do they know about that and are synthonized with the same frequency of the radio memory as Thy Innocences? and more, are they compelled to be available to this search? and if they wanted to keep discovering the universe using those ancient lanterns they would let themselves be known.

     Now, not more so full of certainty, the squinting ethereal eyes astonished watched space and time and agreed. They were not sleeping. They agreed with the half blind physical eyes. They saw that time passing brings new tools working minds all the time. Since the day friends get apart, albeit they still love each other and affinity leads to conditionings and conclusions that still are congruent, the interests are now others and so are the problems.

     No one is to blame. It’s life. It’s us, the humans, Mutants with memories. Sometimes it’s good. Sometimes it hurts to try to repeat happiness once more. Memory!

They say now, almost in harmony, the spiritual eyes with the corporeal ones:

-We admit that we love our childhood and adolescence friends. Thanks heaven we knew them. We were very kind to each other in the past. And we think that we will be still better if we are left there, in the past, praising the good memories.

Waiting for the party

            Whenever returning home from a party a question should be brought: what was the best part of it: the party itself or that period of time waiting for it.

            The same logical thought may be applied for the weekends, friendship contacts, visits to restaurants, vacation tours, marriages, or a film or a book release. And most of all: Why is it so?   So my blog is about equilibrium and this is what I’m trying to deal with here.
            Building expectations is generally the planting of the seeds of frustrations. Waiting for it and being there are two functions to be seen as parasympathetic and sympathetic nervous system harmonious balance facts. One force is pulling and the other is pushing. That makes the balance. If by any reason one of them is strengthened, it will unbalance the situation and the opposite of the expected will take place.
            If you are the one that gives the party, instead of pleasure you experience terror fearing what guests will say if anything goes wrong and if you are a guest you will surely say something was missing and over look what was available.
            And I feel so good when I’m not invited to any party that’s rolling on. But it was not always so. As says Ariano Suassuna, “I was too shy to impose my will on others” but now my white hairs allows me like a passport, may be because of my condition of retired bank manager or maybe my ancient presence and old fashioned opinions are not necessary any more, I really feel so free to say I hate parties and I don’t want to go to any. Of course I still have to fulfill my prior engagements, keep my commitments and agreements going on…
            But that is already an achievement of balance! To be able to choose as you please.  It took time. It was not easy. But it’s true. I don’t have to care what anyone will think about me. I just will not do what I don’t want if I have the choice!  My will - what I do. It is surely equilibrium.

                                                Persistence of Life

            I took this photo from a fence at a road that leads to Praia de João Francisco leaving from Quissamã RJ (Brasil). The wooden posts that were driven in the ground were taken from trees near Parque Nacional de Jurubatiba (National Park of Many Thorny Trees in Tupy). The posts are made out of the branches of the trees and the one in the photo refused to die and be a dry piece of wood. It kept on living and the brackens springing out gave it an air of strength like Cristovam Buarques’ words about Amazon.  It grew and lived by itself. Full of effectiveness and credence.  Strong enough to stop a debate!
            But it still is a barbed wire fence and as the post, now a tree, keeps growing it will, like the words, tighten the wire and possibly endanger the integrity of the fence by pulling the other posts up.     Then two things may happen: they may loosen the  wire by releasing the nails from the trunk OR cut off that post which is bringing troubles, imagine if other posts take the example and start to live. What would be of the fences?
            I’m looking for balance here. Values. Fences or Trees? Words that call the rights like a clarion calls soldiers. I believe in life. And I am sure life will find ways to react and still be present on earth as it has done the last billion years despite of all agression.  We need to find the balance between nature values and development.

            We need to have in mind that environment shouldn't be more important than men. But we can't live without it. On the other hand it is not right to arest a person for killing an armadillo but leaving one that primarily killed another person free while waiting for trial. May an animal worth more than a man? 

 I am cheering for that fence tree.

INTERNACIONALIZAÇÃO DA AMAZÔNIA

Durante debate em uma universidade, nos Estados Unidos, o ex-governador do DF, ex-ministro da educação e atual senador CRISTOVAM BUARQUE, foi questionado sobre o que pensava da internacionalização da Amazônia.  Um jovem americano introduziu sua pergunta dizendo que esperava a resposta de um Humanista e não de um brasileiro.

Esta foi a resposta do Sr. Cristovam Buarque:

“De fato, como brasileiro eu simplesmente falaria contra a internacionalização da Amazônia. Por mais que nossos governos não tenham o devido cuidado com esse patrimônio, ele é nosso. Como humanista, sentindo o risco da degradação ambiental que sofre a Amazônia, posso imaginar a sua internacionalização, como também de tudo o mais que tem importância para a humanidade.

Se a Amazônia, sob uma ética humanista, deve ser internacionalizada, internacionalizemos também as reservas de petróleo do mundo inteiro. O petróleo é tão importante para o bem-estar da humanidade quanto a Amazônia para o nosso futuro. Apesar disso, os donos das reservas sentem-se no direito de aumentar ou diminuir a extração de petróleo e subir ou não o seu preço.

Da mesma forma, o capital financeiro dos países ricos deveria ser internacionalizado.  Se a Amazônia é uma reserva para todos os seres humanos, ela não pode ser queimada pela vontade de um dono, ou de um país.  Queimar a Amazônia é tão grave quanto o desemprego provocado pelas decisões arbitrárias dos especuladores globais.  Não podemos deixar que as reservas financeiras sirvam para queimar países inteiros na volúpia da especulação.

Antes mesmo da Amazônia, eu gostaria de ver a internacionalização de todos os grandes museus do mundo. O Louvre não deve pertencer apenas à França.  Cada museu do mundo é guardião das mais belas peças produzidas pelo gênio humano. Não se pode deixar que esse patrimônio cultural, como o patrimônio natural Amazônico, seja manipulado e instruído pelo gosto de um proprietário ou de um país. Não faz muito, um milionário japonês decidiu enterrar com ele, um quadro de um grande mestre. Antes disso, aquele quadro deveria ter sido internacionalizado.

Durante este encontro, as Nações Unidas estão realizando o Fórum do Milênio, mas alguns presidentes de países tiveram dificuldades em comparecer por constrangimentos na fronteira dos EUA. Por isso, eu acho que Nova York, como sede das Nações Unidas, deve ser internacionalizada.   Pelo menos Manhattan deveria pertencer a toda a humanidade. Assim como Paris, Veneza, Roma, Londres, Rio de Janeiro, Brasília, Recife, cada cidade, com sua beleza específica, sua historia do mundo, deveria pertencer ao mundo inteiro.

Se os EUA querem internacionalizar a Amazônia, pelo risco de deixá-la nas mãos de brasileiros, internacionalizemos todos os arsenais nucleares dos EUA.    Até porque eles já demonstraram que são capazes de usar essas armas, provocando uma destruição milhares de vezes maiores do que e as lamentáveis queimadas feitas nas florestas do Brasil.

Defendo a idéia de internacionalizar as reservas florestais do mundo em troca da dívida. Comecemos usando essa dívida para garantir que cada criança do Mundo tenha possibilidade de COMER e de ir à escola. Internacionalizemos as crianças tratando-as, todas elas, não importando o país onde nasceram, como patrimônio que merece cuidados do mundo inteiro. Como humanista, aceito defender a internacionalização do mundo. Mas, enquanto o mundo me tratar como brasileiro lutarei para que a Amazônia seja nossa. Só “nossa” “

Intentions and Perceptions

     Necessarily I have to ask whether anybody's perceptions will ever meet my intentions. Here I go again in lack of balance.

     So, sharing my astigmatismized point of view with all beings whose intentions are good and who are often misunderstood, I have to ask: what about perceptions?

     Don't we, victims, sometimes get our fellows’ intentions wrong as well? Certainly! We should play the reverse game to understand how it feels to have one's face burning due to a tough reply received from someone you love or even a stranger who mixed up things.

     I think the point is: "If you don't want to run the risk of having your good intentions cruelly butchered by   someone's perception, stay in bed and shut up your face."

     If you assume the responsibility for talking to people, playing jokes with friends, discussing candidates' debates, saying your thoughts about religion, showing your point of view about homosexual rights, feminism, alcoholism or any other isms and conflicting themes, be sensible! Be sure you'll be walking that path which was described by Saint Bernard of Clair Vaux (1091-1153), as "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions".  

     I'm still stubbornly trying  to find the balance between these two historical antagonistic Latin terms as they come dangerouly to life.  Anyway, I hope my perceptions will kindly welcome my intentions!

Equilibrium

     The achievment of harmony in adjusting the many parts of my processes, emotions, thoughts and results in a perfect balance has always been one of the heaviest tasks in all my days. I should have registered it whenever it happened, so I would be able to analyse each time I hit happiness. It comes and goes so fast and it's impossible for men's eyes to see what makes it spring out. That's why Siddartha Gautama said we shouldn't search for happiness in the earthly things. They change in time and these changes vary the conditions of balance between the shifting and opposing forces which is a characteristic of matter. When we put our hopes and faith on idols or things, even on the external beauty of a person, we run the risk of frustation and grief and will be trying for the rest of our lives to return to that point of fake joy that doesn't exist since it changed. Lost its balance. And as all nature's work is always changing, for Siddartha, it is impossible to find real happiness on this earth. But for me, while I'm alive, it is my duty to do my best to get the nearst I can of the balance that leads to the plenitude of a human being. I know it is impossible in just one round. And I am counting the rounds eighty years long as says the expectations of life in this century. It is hard to change, to set the chisel of intelligence on my imperfections and hit it with the hammer of my will, though this is the only way to turn the tough stone into smooth and usefull for building.