Arquivo de philosophy | Page 102 of 123

Conviviality Is a Pact of Falsehood

I am faced with the problem, I understand it the same as always. I come back to myself. Two years ago, I launched the only TV series I ever produced. Two years ago, a character of mine said:

“Conviviality is a pact of falsehood. A minimum dose of sincerity throws coexistence into space. One can be an idiot or a cynic, there is no third option.”

And he heard the friend’s answer:

“Conviviality is putting on the clothes and leaving the money on the bed.”

Why always the same question?…

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The Human Being Does Not Change His Essence

“Becoming a better person” demands a merciless and continuous inner annihilation, a humility and a self-denial that borders on repugnance, a superhuman effort to silence the insistent and natural voice of vanity, which manifests itself as soon as the being recognizes his capacity to think. Since this is an almost unfeasible task, since it demands the confrontation of hard battles that never end, it is wise to say that, after adulthood, the human being does not change his essence, even if he wants to, even if he tries, even if he believes.

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Those Who Seem to Live a Lot Live Very Little

I beat these notes, always, in a static environment, in complete solitude. Everything rigorously immobile, except my naughty fingers. Just now, I thought of Fernando Pessoa. To my amazement, he appeared alive at my side. How? That is what I would like to know. I had thought, just before, of writing the following: “Existence is only justifiable to me as an answer to the authors I read, as the continuity of what they began.” And I would conclude that, despite being dead, they did not die. Then Pessoa bursts into my room. It is curious: a century ago, he was, like me, locked in a room in any corner of Lisbon, reflecting in solitude. Did he know the power of his verses? that they would resist, vigorously, the tyranny of time? He knew… Pessoa knew… And, naturally, in the eyes of the world, locked in a room, the poet “was not living”. I ask: and now, and for the rest of eternity, who lives and will live more: the guy who “lived,” or the poet who “was not living”? A century later, Pessoa, breaking the barrier of time and space, finds himself in my room. And if I open his Ode Marítima, I will be taken by a real and strong euphoria, more alive than any other sensation that a contemporary person could give me. And that is obvious: live little—very, very little—precisely those who seem to live a lot, in the eyes of conventional myopia…

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The Human Being Lives in a Vegetative State

I believe it was Hegel who said that “one learns from history that man never learns from it.” Unquestionable truth. But only the symptom of a bigger problem. The human being lives in a vegetative state, although sometimes it seems the opposite. It is not only the lessons of history that he is incapable of grasping, but reality itself. Rationally, living seems an impossibility. If the human being reasoned and used the judgment he thinks to dispose to assimilate his existence, he would immediately put himself on the curb crying. But that is not what happens. It is necessary for a close friend, for a relative to die for him to awakens from the vegetative state and reason something like “it could have been me.” However, the impulse is fleeting: the consciousness awakens and, immediately afterward, puts itself once again into a heavy sleep. Then the being returns to his usual state, in evidence of the vicious character of his judgment. It is incredible! This seems to be an adaptive psychological mechanism, that is, if not plunged into deep unconsciousness, who would move a single straw? Would they build the Titanic, if they knew its end? And of life, the end is very clear… But we are already rambling. “One learns from history that man does not learn from it”: man, the being who ignores everything, the smiling blind being. And it seems the same mental programming that demands numbness to justify from individual stupidity to the collective foolishness of a world that, for more than half a century, has not faced a great war…

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