Most people have no right to be humble. Humility is a privilege, it is only for those who have achieved something, who then show humility as a kind of positive, constructive vanity. Having achieved nothing, I know my place, I must be foolishly brash and proud of the nothing I have done, to keep pushing and pulling, till one day, hopefully, I can really be proud, and shut up.
We always need words for things, to remember to forget that we don’t know what we are talking about.
Comme dirait Pessoa, les autres n’existent pas, je les existe, “allons plus loin, je n’existe pas, je m’existe”.
The simple harmonic oscillator is an undecided system. It doesn’t know which way to go. The simple harmonic oscillator is the most ubiquitous thing in the universe. The creator is expressing himself, in the fabric of existence there is indecision. For if the creator knew what he was doing, He would have done it by now.
As I look in despair at my body that, already imperfect in its youth, has now decided to show signs of a steady and ineluctable decline into middle and then old age, nothing frustrates me as much as to look into a mirror. And Pessoa confirms my intuition, when in his book, the “Book of disquiet” (which I simply cannot recommend enough to better understand the modern world we live in), he explains that the mirror has poisoned the human soul, that must be perfect in its own eyes, that in ancient times, people would rarely, if at all look at themselves in a mirror, and if they would, it would be by bending down in an act of belittlement, to look into the water. In another part of his book, he describes how greek literature did not have mention of this modern day angst, despite all the statues they made. This is also ofcourse the content of the Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, where a man is driven to madness, seeing himself age. We do not see the origins and the subtle, ill-effects of the modern world, the way fish do not see water….
Ma tête se dégarnie
L’ombre de la mort flotte sur moi
Mes cheveux comme les vagues de la mer se reculent
Mais non pas comme eux,
ils ne reviendront plus jamais.
Le temps ne se voit pas dans les vagues
C’est pourquoi on aime les regarder
C’est pourquoi les formes arrondies nous apaisent
le bonheur est dans le cycle
Le bonheur familiale est là aussi
Les enfants nous font croire que nous sommes de nouveau jeune
Le quotidien se répète
La mort a peur de qui?