Nature…

I am not a nature enthusiast. (Stones!) I know that for many — all? — the word nature inspires a silent, pure landscape like a fresh fountain lying down in the quiet rustle of trees under the gentle movement of the waters. Not to me. When I think of nature, my mind associates — and does not ask me for permission! — first, to the image of a closed forest; then, to the sensation of my lungs being inflated with fresh air and, abruptly, I hear an unbearable buzz of mosquitoes, which turns into the aggressive hiss of a rattlesnake. Scared, I feel a shiver. Yes, yes: my house is pollution and ash.

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About Self-Help Books

There are some things I find impossible, for example, Donald Trump dressed as Buddha at a carnival party. Another: an author of self-help with a Dostoevsky book in his hands. And not only Dostoevsky but Shakespeare too: writing self-help to someone who read Shakespeare is an absolute impossibility. I could continue extending the list of authors, but summary: the classics; no self-help author read the classics. And why is it so obvious? Because there is a total incompatibility between what is in the classics and what is found in self-help books. I reflect: there is an intellectual heritage transmitted through the centuries that must be respected and absorbed by someone who intends to teach lessons to others. If we still talk about Shakespeare, it is because there is something valuable, perennial, common to all mankind in Shakespeare. And I would even say that for someone who wants to know the human being at all or be minimally cultured, the classics are indispensable. I repeat, therefore, in my obsession: ten works, no more; I doubt that any self-help author has read ten works either between Shakespeare and Dostoevsky. Could the author understand nothing? I do not think so. Could the author see easy money in self-help? Maybe… But I feel free to be bold and generalize: a self-help book is not intellectually relevant — I am sorry, but it is not.

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Solemnity While Praying

Why do evangelicals — there I go where I should not… — improvise prayers? I think and the conclusion is inevitable: Whenever, listening to an evangelical praying, the phrase withers, the word fails or the feeling is not expressed with power, I see the seriousness of prayer thrown to ridicule. I wonder if only I am repairing the mismatch of the unplanned phrase that, showing helpless, uses intonation to express itself and — excuse me of sincerity — should be ashamed. So much more beautiful is ready prayer, and more when silent. It must be some defect of discernment, but I see as clear the relationship between silence and reflection, silence and respect, silence and solemnity. And I am concerned with the unanswered question: why does the man of faith not follow God’s example and shut up?

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