ALL IN THE PRESENCE OF “HIS MAJESTY THE BABY”

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Freud was using the term “His Majesty the Baby” to address the sense of omnipotence each of us in childhood had to overcome to accept limits and laws (natural laws included) in order to become an adult.

It looks to me that these times have generated a generation of people who can’t deal with the limits and didn’t overcome the perception of omnipotence typical of childhood.

Therefore these people when they meet with laws that don’t fit their vision they change the law.

On the other hand, the power of advances in technology and media progress is giving them new tools to set a new reality according to their desires, they do not have the need to comply with reality any longer, they narrate their own reality.

This phenomenon has to be coupled with the fact that narrative is what the majority of people can deal with nowadays, having lost a logical-hypothetical capability. Why this, in my opinion?

According to Bruner the passage from the iconic representation of reality to the gathering and synthesis of data from reality exerting a scientific thought is the process to reach mature cognitive capability.

Movies in my opinion have accustomed the majority of people to stop this cognitive evolution at the point of iconic thought. The problem, therefore, is, first of all, that these “majesty the babies” came to power positions and they are now operating their own propaganda and their own agenda, and secondly, the majority lost the capability to exert scientific hypothetical logical cognitive process as through “Cinema” has been used to exert a narrative thought based on icons and not data.

The consequence is that whoever reaches a power position, strongly works to change meanings and concepts to fit reality to his/her narration nowadays is way advantaged as the soil

is fertile.

IT TAKES GUTS

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It takes guts to go ahead

with no brain

no superpowers

no Kabbalah understanding

but just a big heart

and still

be guided out of the fence

LETTER TO SUCCESSORS (LETTER FROM SINCERITY)

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Running after lots of things. The music was good though.

I spent my time to see, to receive, to do and I wrote everything down.

My back aches, the neck too.

Remember my son: majority of people do not listen.  The hearth is beautiful, absolutely, but, the sorrow is everywhere.

Me, as well, I played. I started with wonder, then sarcasm, then power, then anger. I played the game. I screamed I laughed, I cried. I won, I lost.

I found that the problems are at the borders. A lot of room as long as you stay far away from them, and sometimes you may think to have won too. Still, the movement is just within the borders.

Note: beautiful to listen to neo tango music and writing during a travel on a train.

This trip was good.

I served my treasure and put them not here, I suggest you to do the same.

Bye bye, heart, coming back to Jesus. Missed him. I wrote even down on a bathroom’s wall in Venice once for him.

Listen, Venice it’s a wonderful city. Do not forget to visit it while you’re down. And travel, travel a lot. Don’t forget to read Bukowsky, my favourite writer, even if I never read anything about him though.

Take care of your feet, lots of problems come from those.

And above all, share this letter of mine, to successors. 

Yours,

Sincerity. 

The best way

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 Variegati palazzoni n.4 - con firma.jpg
the best way
to get into a town
it’s attending its weddings,
kissing its women,
crying and laughing at its jokes,
reaching its essence
of a bunch of colorful blocks,
lingering certain eyes
and then leave.

bailarin

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veo
que
no me acostumbro

yo sé
le dos calles

morir iluminado de la verdad
o abandonarme a vivir

in eso
destino vacante
escribo poemas para Dios

porque yo soy
suyo bailarin
y mi vida
es su tango

no hay
ningun objetivo
aficionado
como soy
a la pregunta

MY NAME IS EMILY

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I would like to share this piece with all the people out there who have felt “awkward” at some point in their lives.

My name is Emily, I am a sociologist of German origin, living in Istanbul since three years.
I have lived in several cities in Europe and I absorbed their culture.
I consider myself one of the many Western women grew up with a void of truth and spirituality that neither the religious faiths nor the philosophical dissertations could fill.
I had a gap made of research, held open by a clear and honest obstinacy in knowing who I was.
The love for the truth prevented me access to social conventions that often keep human choices standing and balance them.
So, I passed from a mild discomfort perceived superficially to a clear concern of not belonging.
And I found in my individual problems, an attempt to answer the general ones.
Yes, because I have been patient, I researched and then I found out that I do not belong to an entire culture.
I understand that the identity of an individual is not unrelated to that of a group, but It often suffers guidelines and boundaries.
The idea of being different from what seems to have become your role in the world, it is perceived as a drama. Something exaggerated and to run away from. Because at the end, the balance that the feeling of belonging and of similarity bring with them, reveals the truth of diversity as a choice inconvenient.
So you accept to live with a distant and constant discomfort, but with the security of not being alone. At least outwardly.
But I believe that every man has his own vocation and that it is his duty to act to recognize it. Understand that the discomfort feeling is not obligated and does not constitute life. Indeed, even if we suffer privately, to act to get better is a social duty. Because we cannot be good if the others are not too, and in a certain how this doesn’t happen if we do not become the best person we can be.
I soon realized that there are always expressions, manners, interpretation of human gestures and aims of civilization, which vary and which are relevant when viewed in “distance”.
One should travel, compare different societies, different ways of expressing the same needs and the different ways in which different parts of the world it has come to resolve them.
So to understand that beyond the instruments and the human interpretations what remains is precisely the human need. That is universal. No geography. No history.
I have therefore taken myself to a place where I could act in harmony with my being without having to feign a mask.
Gradually my thoughts were fitting with reality. People saw what I saw, and in describing what they saw were describing what I would have described In my view. I felt finally to belong to one humanity. Gradually I recognized me under the mask I was wearing and I found myself.
The mask gives clear characteristics. Recognized qualities. Limits, equally recognized.
It gives you the ability to choose clearly what you can and cannot do. In accordance with society said it’s your role, your mask.
Moreover, as it is clear and unique, the more limited are the possibilities, but clear are the choices you have to do. The mask is simplifying an idea, a set of characters and it is unique. It ‘s a unique statement upon reality.
Me, for example, I have a cousin, and she is called Emily.
When we find ourselves at my grandparents’ house, I remember my grandmother when she needed to take something from the kitchen’s shelf called me to help her. To stand out, when both we replied, jokingly specified “the longest”, because between the two I was the “longest”.
To the eyes of the other people, we are often masks, and it is a fact.
More it is the harmony and love, the more we have the opportunity to mitigate and eliminate these masks. But to simplify, to generalize, to crop some aspects and focus on other is always a tendency to which we all have recourse when it comes to relating to one another.
What it is certain is that if after so much time one takes off the mask, it becomes really difficult to act. Everything becomes possible. Because thousands become his faces, a thousand interpretations of reality, and therefore the chances are a thousand and a thousand the choices.
It’s like a flight. And the air between the wings should certainly scare.
So what to do?
One should go beyond the idea of the feelings and feel.
One should go beyond the categories.
For example, In looking the face of a woman who is telling you with sad eyes how much she is in love with her man, one should go beyond the idea that she’s lying, and be able to hear just a person uncomfortable.
When you remove your mask is terrible facing reality because nothing more is clear. Nothing more is clearly unique, but everything becomes a personal choice.
Even deciding if a thunderstorm is an umbrella forgotten at home or the cold on the skin. Or the address lost somewhere of your only contact in a city you do not know. It’s up to you to choose it.
The mask lulls us, taking away freedom, but giving us certainties. Clear codifications of an infinite reality.
In my life, I have met people like me who were locked, wrapped in cultural fantasies thrown at them by those who just could not understand them nor, eventually, wanted to accept them.
And it’s as living in a den. Sometimes you go out. But do not leave it forever. We’re close and we turn around it. We make a few steps and when there is something that creates difficulties you go back into it immediately.
Even if you’re free, you’re not. Because your instinct is to react to things from inside the lair. And that it’s your only way to see and to relate to the world.
You do not know how to live in the free spaces of life.
Withstanding the cold, the view of the majestic trees, contain one’s excitement when guessing in which side will turn the path as you splash galloping and you rediscover yourself skillful.
But the truth is that the lair is within us.
Eventually, every man has one and he lives with the other in a larger one. It is like the myth of Plato’s cave, where men cannot see more than a wall on which are projected the shadows.
Those shadows are but those of other men.
I believe that we do not look directly. The only way to know is to know yourself and understand each other only through the similarities with what we have learned from us.
We do not know what’s out neither by our lair nor in the one in which we all live.
But some tend to jump off, others shut themselves inside.
Some, must know what they see, analyze it and understand it in depth. While others in order to understand and to analyze they must first act, touch and experience. Some are in the den, cloaked by an invincible heat, fascinated by a promise of infinite possibilities. Others are thrown out and roam subjected to the myriad of sensations.
Some people naturally rise masks. There are those who build, maintain and make masks to be worn.
There are those who by nature back in the den even when there is no more threat. There are those who come out ahead from the den instead and always tries to take out others from it.
As the electron spins around its axis in two opposite directions, so a man, in front of life’s questions can withdraw into himself or jump off.
Yet we need to find the balance of these two ways so legitimate and so necessary.
Den’s and grasslands’, if we were animals, would have been this the irretrievable distinction. But we are men and over the natural tendencies, we have the will to improve and act on the right.
Taking off the mask, having the courage to be naked when love seeks us. Jumping out of the cage when the answer to our suffering is a feeling. Throwing inside ourselves, when in fact the solution to a feeling is an idea.
In a careful balance between the ability to float, choose and define our actions, then again, and again choose to float.
All this is called living. And all this is the matter of life.
I realized that we are something beyond the expectations of those around us, behind the fears to change, over the ignorance in which we live, towards the experience that we have not yet.
Sometimes we have to do an action sometimes we have to give birth to an idea. Sometimes, facing the external judgment, we should turn in on ourselves and resist the tendency to react. Other we must react and resist the tendency to turn in on ourselves.

So here are my writings.
With strengths and weaknesses, with dark regions where heat and openings to see the sky may be found.

These dear friends are the crevices of my lair.

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THE GORILLA’S METAMORPHOSIS

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Gorilla scorpione

Deep eyes, soft and shiny hair. He’s’ just born, a strange wolf.
Sturdy and strong, walking among the wolves, babies like him. Respectful, attracted, but intimately intimidated, warned by the truthful nature in the air whispered.
Here, an old wolf, growling fiercely.
The violence of history, loaded by its distrust, hits the little strange wolf.
Strangewolf is hurt but does not fall. He ‘s small, but he reacts.
The old wolf boggles in his mind.
Strangewolf grows and grows walking.
He gets a strange reddish mane all around the head and neck, which covers up to his shoulders.
Strangewolf reddish mane walks and grows.
Again, one of the wolves and he rails against the marks with a paw.
Strangewolf is hurt, he reacts and this time he lands the aggressor.
Strangewolf reddish mane grows, walks and grows.
The wounds go, heal.
He spends his days hunting alone.
One day, some wolves in the pack bring the group around him and surround him.
He makes a rattling sound, which shakes in fear attackers who flee.
At that point, the herd has now decided :
frightened by the strength of Strangewolf is organized against him.
The day appointed, again, the whole herd surrounds Strangewolf, and among these, one of the elders attacked him.
Strangewolf stronger than a single wolf knocks him down. Another wolf and another still lash out at him. He knocks them down one after the other. He leans against the wall of animals in front of him and makes it out to dozens, but they are too many. He fights valiantly but is won.
It ‘s still too young and alone.
The wolves save his life, but they force him to stay with them and participate in the activities of the pack to hunt with them and for them.
Strangewolf rebels for days … then accept them.
He grows between the wolves and he learns their rules, behaviors, patterns and he identifies with them. He adapts and fits into the pack. The wolves do not despise his presence, however, is important for them extinguish his instincts, so dangerous for them.
Strangewolf ends up forgetting his nature and over time can no longer find differences with the wolves.
Strangewolf spent years living quietly, hunting and living with the pack. He grew and became large.
He was ‘ a wolf, this is what he thought, his adaptation, but there was still something that linked him to his past. Discomfort, a deep sadness.
If he were a man it would have been called melancholy of a poet …

Time passes and Strangewolf began to feel bad: he had resented the changes imposed on its nature.
He suffered.

His instincts came back and confused him, leading him away from the life of the pack.

Until one-day Strangewolf disappeared , he hid for days so that the pack was not able to find him. Then he left everyone and began to live solitary, wandering in the forest.

One day in the forest.
“Hey you, lion .”
Strangewolf did not turn around and continuing to call him an eagle came to him until she was in front of him. She said: “What are you doing here lion?”
Strangewolf did not understand what that animal was saying and replyed, ” fly somewhere else crow ”
The eagle heard those words flew away.
Strangewolf, annoyed by the sudden invasion, began to walk again reflecting sadly on those words.
Lion…?
What did it mean? and why she asked him what he was doing there. What did she mean?
He was thinking these things when …
… he felt a slight pinch on the leg.
He turned and instantly he pulled back.
Before him was indeed a strange creature resembling a gorilla, but smaller and with a strange, long tail , hairless, reddish, anything that was less than smooth (Strangewolf had just verified), and ended with a strange sting.
The strange creature called out, “Hey, watch where you’re going ! ”  wagging the tail.
The tail was cut by vertical lines that followed one another creating rounded and oval sections. Strangewolf remembered something, but he was confused, intrigued by the new and unfamiliar form.
“What are you? ” He said.
The pet looking at him with a funny expression, thoughtfully replied, ” What I am? .. who knows. A gorilla. ”
” A species of a gorilla ? ”
“Yeah, I guess. And you? you’re a wolf? ”
“Yeah I guess ”
” A kind of wolf? ”
“Yes”
“Strange that mane on your head, never seen it in a wolf .”
” Yeah .. I am Strangewolf ”
They laughed together.
Then the little gorilla with the sting told Strangewolf his story:
” I remember being born an orphan, and that a female gorilla who had lost her baby, brought me up as his own son .”
“Have you ever had that ? ” said Strangewolf pointing to the tail of the little animal .
” Yes, always. I was the only one to have it in my family. I was the youngest of my brothers and the only one who had it. With my brothers, I was struggling to stay in the family. They did not like me and I was the most fragile among them, but I remember that my mother was very fond of me. ”
Strangewolf followed the story concerned and very involved. The animal continued:
“Me and mom were very close , we were both really happy to be together , but soon we had to deal with a problem : I was too sensitive with respect to her powerful body and when she hugged me affectionately , she could not hurt me and me instinctively always , I answered by shaking my sting . ”
” Weird sting, ” remarked Strangewolf.
” .. And I stung, ” said the strange little gorilla with the sting. ” She loved me and that hug was important for her, the only means of transmission of his affection. On the other hand, I could not help but use the sting every time she hugged me.
Since when I was a kid, my sting could not do harm to her big body, both of us we agreed to make us a little ‘ evil for the sake of the other. But growing the problem recurred. My sting began to emit a strange liquid and my prick was getting worse, until one day, after the usual hug and the usual bite, my mom fell to the ground dying.
My brothers railed against me, so did the rest of the family. I managed to get away and since then I continue to wander lonely without knowing anything about my mother. I remember her lifeless on the ground.
For a long time, I was thrown into turmoil and in full despair. I thought of my sting, I hated it! I thought about how it was the cause of so much evil. How many nights I fell asleep thinking about how nice it would be if I was normal, like my brothers, robust and stingless. Just like them. How many nights I wished I did not have this anomaly. But then, years passed and I followed one another in strange changes, one after another. I became more and smaller, my arm muscles are losing hair and grow harder and harder. I’m assuming this reddish color. I grew up in a vacuum, which torments me, but sustains me”.
“I would have liked to live well with the wolves that I have bred. Be like them. Being able to accept the hunt for the pack. ” Strangewolf said.
‘ It’s for this reason that your physique reminds that of a wolf? You were raised by a pack of wolves? but you are not a wolf. Isn’t it? ”
Strangewolf replied sadly, ” I do not know what I am…I just know that I’m weird. ”
“It’s not a bad thing to be. Look at me, I’m not sorry to be strange, in some way I can do everything. ”
” …However, I think that in any case it is not normal to have those big arms out of proportion with this small body… ”
“Normal … ” he repeated thoughtfully the animal, “look “, he said asking him putting under his eyes the right arm, ” I believe my arms are getting shorter and smaller… and are changing, Look closely … ”
Strangewolf noticed a portion of the arm at the elbow, hairless, shiny greenish of a color. Of what once must have been a huge hand there were just three fingers together confused at the base in one unique body, and instead of the other two there was something like a pair of pliers.
It was just weird but that creature reminded him something…
Then the creature said thoughtfully to Strangewolf
” … My sting … doesn’t tell you anything? ” Beginning to understand.
Strangewolf waited a moment .. the two fellows seemed to follow quickly the same deductions, then Strangewolf said with astonishment :
” A scorpion! ”
“….. I am a scorpion! I’m becoming a scorpion ! ” added Littlegorilla.
Both were aware of the existence and form. Littlegorilla was really turning into a scorpion.
The Scorpion, therefore , finally said :
” I’m not weird, it is finally about to take my metamorphosis. I’ve never been like my mother or my brothers, I’ve always known it. ” He was excited about the new awareness, Scorpio, with simplicity and spontaneity, added: ” So, you too! you are … what you are, and you’re what you are by nature. Sooner or later you’ll find out. You just have to let you live, then nature will do everything. Keep going, wait for the change as mine”.
And he went away happy.

Strangewolf abandoned the Scorpion, stronger than before because of the new truth.

He did not know what he was, but he was now certain that he wouldn’t have to be afraid of it.

So, that day, Strangewolf learned the art of adaptation by the Scorpion, he realized that there was no animal better than another, but each animal was fitted in the wisdom of an extraordinary truth. Everyone had inside, at some point, the ability to live the great circle of life.

Each animal existed because he had the right to live in the wise and wonderful circle.
Thus, he walked into a reborn balance, thinking he did not care to know who he was, rather be.