A letter from John

"Carolina “Carissima”,

Time has passed (as always), the days behind me have gathered dust (human molecules and what’s left of summer smiles), and so the last letter you sent me is stored in the past, (while I can’t gaze at it) collecting moments safely hidden from the world…

I write to you from the University, my back in some pain from poor sleep, awaiting the next class, always waiting for something…

Have you found pleasure in existence lately? What makes your being tingle? Have you walked alone and arrived at any conclusions worth mentioning? Write to me with your essence, not your ego…

Lately, I have been avoiding the “sameness” of everyday activities. Singing out loud as a madman, dancing through the city across the streets, making the authentic movements of infinity while AMORFATI. What does this mean? I leave it to you to interpret.

My dear friend across the sea, have you found stability? If so, get rid of it, for you lie to yourself. Have you tried to make sense of “it”? I tell you: “scream to the sky and await an answer from the stars.”

My body laughs at me with its physical barriers. My mind laughs at me with its mental barriers. Everywhere there are walls in which I hit against. “Man is born free, but everywhere he is in chains.”

Make a boat of this letter, so you can board it and visit me. Cry, laugh, and sing.

I promise to write a letter of more substance next time. All the best and forgive the lack of words, as well as the improvised nature of this token.

Jonathan Ropiequet"

Important Things

Death is one of the few (if not the only) certainties we have, yet we all manage not to think about it. At least not when we can avoid it.

There’s a Buddhist master who teaches that thinking often about the possibility that we may not survive to see ‘tomorrow’, helps putting life in perspective.

Think about it. Living with the feeling that you may die any moment brings the urgency of doing that which is really important. It’s impressive how some things come right from your unconscious mind to your priority list once some serious thought is given to this teaching. Most interesting of all, one realizes that life isn’t really meant to be wasted with petty things.

Is there anything important you have to say to anyone? Is there anyone who needs your hug? Is there anyone who needs to know how much you care? Is there anyone you need to forgive?

If you have answered yes to any of the questions above, consider doing something now. I know how difficult it is to be brave and take action, but be warned that tomorrow may just be too late.

Everlasting Happiness...

...is nowhere to be found but within ourselves.

Insolvable Matters

Over highly caloric french fries and cheap beer, my friends and I spent part of the night complaining about the lack of prince-charming material in the market (at least for us). We had previously had a heated discussion over the weakness of political institutions in Brazil, so we needed to fuss about a lighter topic.
*
I have got to be honest – we are quite likable. And smart! I can’t figure what’s wrong, really. Perhaps we failed to embody the can’t-go-wrong combination of ignorance coupled with striking beauty, or exceptional brains with striking beauty. If either happens to be the issue, I’m doomed: I’m no Bündchen or Einstein-Bündchen.
*
By the end of the night the girls and I had shared good laughs, but we arrived at no definite conclusions. We went back home wondering what might (really) be wrong with us. And politicians.

About a Boy

This little brown-haired boy was probably eight. He sat next to me, commanded by a grandma who had exclaimed in embarrassingly high notes, “There, why don’t you sit next to this beautiful girl?” I figured the cute boy would want to bury his face somewhere, but he just followed the orders and remained silent. I actually felt relieved that he chose not to yell “she-is-horrible-and-I-do-not-want-to-sit-by-her” in protest to the voice of authority. It seems to me that at this stage in life, kids do not quite understand or care about the social rules which often demand us to restrain from being boldly honest.

*
I wondered if he wanted to sit by the window. Did he keep glancing at me or at the world outside? The later hypothesis made me feel like I was supposed to switch seats with him. Predictably enough, just when I was about to make him this proposition, grandma called him up and they got off the bus. As my eyes wandered, looking at nothing in particular, they were caught by the sight of the middle-school boy turning to wave me goodbye. I waved back and smiled, amazed with I don't know what.

Minding My Own Mind

After a pleasantly insightful conversation over coffee and soft background music, it struck me that my approach to life might not have changed as much in the past three years. In my late teens, I really believed my unquiet spirit would only be satisfied if it was fed in the highest academic environment there could be. I assumed that being intellectually challenged would provide an endlessly sublime experience. I really couldn’t picture myself doing something other than studying in the U.S. In the end, despite all my efforts, I never got to have this experience. It’s been a year since those academic plans went down, but I no longer mourn about this – I am certain that I wouldn’t have found what I’m still looking for at Harvard or Yale. Today I query myself, how did it once occur to me that happiness depended on having access to Ivy League education? Perhaps I just attributed the achievement of some kind of enlightenment to being drunk on intense intellectual activity.
Lately I’ve been searching for answers elsewhere, but I find myself haunted by the thought that I might still be pursuing the wrong things, even if the reasons are right. Thoughts and more thoughts, they never leave me! I can’t help rationalizing just about everything. Does the reliance on a mind that conceptualizes feelings of compassion and love indicate the existence of a dry heart? I would hate to admit this, but it seems like I have become too comfortable with the feeling of melancholy that follows reflective thought-processing. What on Earth has happened to me?

Generosity

Around 8 PM last thursday, I boarded a rather empty train to finally go back home. As I sat there, I instantly started reviewing the happenings of the day - It started with an statistics final, which I'd been dreading ever since I learned I'd have to study statistics. After that traumatic experience, things ran much more smoothly; I spent a great deal of time at the library, had lunch and ran to my French class. By the time I was ready to go, I realized it was already 4:30. Anyone who lives in São Paulo knows what this means: Super packed public transportation. Knowing I'd have to spend at least 1 hour and a half commuting under such unpleasant conditions, I quickly concluded I'd be better off staying a few more hours at college.

*

So, there I was: sitting in the midst of people who looked incredibly tired. They were probably dreaming of tasty meals and hot showers, just as I was. Four more stations, and then I'd finally be home. As I reached for my music device, I heard a squeaky voice that I found hard to ignore. I looked up, and I saw one of those people who sell candy on the train. There was nothing specially different about him - aside from his voice - but the candy caught my eye. Not because I love sweets anyway, but because they were so carefully and thoughtfully wrapped. I though of the time he must have spent in doing that at his home and then I though of the many train wagons he most have hopped in and out to sell them. I wondered how tired he'd feel at the end of the day and how lucrative his business was. Neither of my thoughts led to happy conclusions.

*

I decided to buy the candy. I opened my wallet, but with grand surprise I realized there was no money at all. With a disappointed smile, I apologized and told the expectant candy seller that I wouldn't buy anything because I was out of coins. He gave me a two-second perplexed look and then moved away without saying a word.

*

As I wondered if he had gotten mad because I somehow made him believe I was going to buy his product and then didn't, he approached me again:

*

"Hey there, do you want this?"

*

Now I was the one giving him a perplexed look. Was he offering me candy despite the fact that I was broke for the day?

*

"If you want to have this, go on and take it."

*

I was still trying to figure out why he was doing that, but managed to refuse politely and thank him. The train doors opened and he got off.

*

When this man first boarded the train, he announced he was in a bad financial situation and that any kind of help would be more than welcomed. Why on Earth would he want to give me free candy? I tried to rationalize what had just happened, but I didn't succeed.

*

I guess he was simply being generous to a stranger. Despite the difficulties, despite his life. I'll never know what led him to do that, but the one thing I know is that he taught me a lesson. His generosity made me feel really ashamed, for I don't know if I would be concerned about being generous were I in his shoes. I don't even know if I'm as generous as I could and should be today. Probably not, but I'm comitted to be more like the man who sells neatly-wrapped candy on the train.