5 ante meridiem, the crowing of the cockerel wakes thee up, that electronic crowing that sounds every morning to take thee out of the wonderful world of dreams and bring thee back to this one, the world of labour, the world of feeling tired for hours, then having fun for a few more, and then falling exhausted into bed, until the digital cockerel crow again, and the cycle repeat itself.
Through thy mouth slips thy breakfast, so fast that thou canst not savour it, thou knowst that if thou dost not hurry thou shalt not arrive in time to the central market of the city, the other poultrymen will hoard the best produce and only the chickens at the bottom, the smashed ones, the ugly ones, the difficult to sell, will be left.
The ideal of the renaissance was to be polymath, to learn from the world in all its aspects, and to enjoy it in the same way: to make music, to make poetry, to make mathematics, to make philosophy, all during the same life. The contemporary ideal of having money, of being financially independent, of drinking alcohol, of having a monotonous job, of wasting time doing silly things because one has not energy anymore because the work or the studies – which one does only to be able to obtain a job and money afterwards – have taken all energy away, is it better? Do you think we are better now?!
The former president has a new girlfriend, a young blonde and, perhaps, crazy woman -because one has to be very crazy to want to be with this clown-;;; I was informed of this notice while I was listening to music so sugared that is still sweet in spite of age;;; this made me think about the silly obsession with youth. Why are there so many persons that do everything they can to have youth, if that youth has frequently proved to be so absurd and naive?
Perhaps felicity (happiness, bliss) should not be defined in terms of anything else but the experience of felicity itself. Inherent in our being, immaterial. I think of those who reduce it to neuroscientific terms, or who reduce it to other ideas or emotions, or who want to give quasi-mathematical explanations (one is happy when one tends to unity…). A state of the soul can not be universally explained by a rule (my soul is happy if it finds peace or simplicity…). It can not be explained why «felicity» suddenly arises with a combination (where did felicity come from with that state that supposedly generates it?). There can not be explanations of emergence in a theory, to say that something emerges is not to explain.
Felicity has always been there, infinite felicity in my eternal soul, it is only affected by the diverse circumstances.
Anyway I know that:
Whether it is a state of my soul in general or a specific part, it is in me always, it is my soul itself. And therefore…
I do not obtain felicity from things and it does not emerge and is not given to me. Only circumstances affect it, as they usually affect my whole soul. But the ultimate form in which I shall «obtain» felicity shall be the circumstance which limits it the least, not the one which gives parity or unity or peace or anything like that. The union or any phenomenon does not generate felicity, but in that circumstance felicity is less limited.
Yesternight, after chatting —not for delight but forced by the circumstances— with a historian of the state, I understood that the principal reason why it is impossible for many to think in, and act to seek, a better world, is that it seems unacceptable to believe that we all are equal, or that we have the same intellectual potential.
Thou that never hadst the trust of giving me thy telephone number: When thou walk by the park and thou find a lonely man sitting beside a guitar, that seems to not have been played in weeks, drinking from a silver flask, do not run nor fear thinking that he is a vicious dangerous stranger… Remain tranquil, for he could well be not a stranger but thy vicious dangerous friend that did not achieve to invite thee to drink in the park because he could not call thee because he did not know thy telephone number.
The solar beams against my eyes collide, reflected by the surfaces of the things, and perturb my soul, provoking me colourful ideas, that appear to have a grand profound sense for which I manipulate my will, nourish my hope, and my life continue.