It has already been wisely noted that in times of crisis a nation has no choice but to cling to the past. In the despair of uncertainty thrown open by the crisis, tradition emerges as a safe haven, and thus it is overcome all the more easily the more solid a people’s past is, the more ingrained and present it is in the present stage. From this it is evident that there are more and less vulnerable nations; it is impressive, however, when we notice that the so-called less vulnerable ones, even for a short period, become the negation of what they have always been, seeming to break the historical link that defines them. We automatically think: and then, what will it be? But it is curious to note that, more often than not, due to conjunctures that perhaps escape our reasoning, the traditions—always them—appear reinvigorated, and end up as saviors of a future that seemed to be summarized in chaos.
Category: Notes
There Is Nothing More Ridiculous Than the Importation of Cultural Garbage…
In the contemporary West, there is nothing more ridiculous than the importation of cultural garbage produced by the United States by countries that, in doing so, humiliate their own tradition. Henry Adams correctly predicted that nothing good could be expected from a rising civilization that has been denied a decent cultural-historical basis. And there it is… All the nonsense conceived in America, with the impressive speed of the digital age, is instantly exported to the rest of the West, which seems to delight in this vexing packaging of an English corrupted by the absence of British tradition. As for Brazil, it is better not to say.
A Whole Year to Weave a Handful of Verses!
A whole year to weave a handful of verses! And I still have not finished them… The sensation is of an unacceptable slowness for someone who has in his own work the raison d’être. It bothers, and bothers a lot, this tortoise-like productivity, when at the same time the ideas seem desperate, banging on the bars of a cage, clamoring for release. They want to flood the papers immediately, as I also want to, but I do not let go of the prudent recommendation of “one job at a time”. There is no way to ignore the possibility of an immediate death: should such a scenario come true, there would remain, to a much greater extent than the very few verses I have composed, a disorganized and almost incomprehensible jumble of notes.
The Design of the “Great Work”
Goethe, in the Conversations, regrets having allowed himself to be seduced by the design of the “great work”. He says he knows how much it has harmed him, and regrets that he has allowed himself to block his mind for its valiant spontaneous manifestations which, although they demanded attention, had to be discarded for the sake of the greater goal. Understandable… it is not hard to admit that something is lost due to this need for concentration of effort that is imperative for the creation of a “major work”, as Goethe says. But perhaps it is a fair price, as perhaps it is risky to bet all one’s chips on a fragmentary, occasionally inspired work. Much of Goethe derives from Faust, and if he lost something by creating it, well, he gained it after all! It is very difficult to fully adhere to the recommendation to avoid the “great works” when we see that the best of the great authors have come from them. If, on the one hand, it is very justly observed that they are dangerous, and that perhaps they are not indicated for the majority of artists, on the other hand, in some cases it seems extremely beneficial to channel efforts toward a single purpose.