Motivation is tempered and hardened by patience; only patience is capable of channeling it and transforming its intensity into a lasting force, something that is necessary for it to bear fruit. It is therefore fragile and can easily be lost. However, when combined with patience, it renews itself and loses its ephemeral character, finally justifying the very effort spent on stabilizing itself.
Category: Notes
The Devil Really Is That “Just a Little Bit”
The devil really is that “just a little bit”, that “just once” that makes the transgression of morals a reality and disfigures one’s very being. It is true that motivation fluctuates and effort always ends up giving way; however, we need to be very careful that the fluctuations do not descend into a practice that completely sucks the spirit dry and ends up in the most complete betrayal. Rigidity and daily effort, yes, even if it is for a constant desire that does not always carry over into the real world.
No Philosophy and No Religion…
No philosophy and no religion that wants to be truly great can do without practice, that is, can do without realization through a real human being. Only example convinces, and only positivization in practice justifies theory, which, no matter how superior it may seem, will never be superior unless it also proves itself through its fruits. So, as convenient as listening to what it says, it is important to pay attention to what it actually does.
Once, a Few Years Ago…
Once, a few years ago, I was told that there was a piece of music whose weight was so tremendous, so dark and so dramatic that it seemed to contain something infernal. It was Prokofiev. I recognized the music immediately and smiled. Then, to make it clear that there was nothing exaggeratedly tremendous, dark or dramatic about it, I played a track from the Réquiem. At the first note, astonishment and certainty, opened up by an overwhelming contrast. The same feeling was repeated last night when, after four years, I returned to my favorite novelist, to the author to whom I have devoted the most hours and from whom I cannot separate myself. On the same day, I finished a work by Thomas Bernhard, a work in which the same technique is used exhaustively to express psychological tension, affliction, restlessness, despair, and who knows what else. So, Dostoyevsky. No need to say anything more.