Sunday, August 27, 2017

Lost souls

My brother is a wise man.  Many times I find him odious, but truth be told he has got my admiration as far as life situations and experiences, mostly in all this wisdom he carries around, but that generally never uses.  Hence his barren, lonely existence.
Yesterday he was telling me how the Greeks had actually written everything there was to write.  Since the Greeks, there has been nothing new.  Everything that has been written, everything that has been said can be identified without problem as a byproduct of Greek thought.  Except for love.  Greeks never philosophized about love.  But for that, humanity required situational attributes that only the experience of centuries could provide, since everything we experience, in many ways, passes on in memories throughout the generations.  The pains of the heart, the passionate love, the warmth in one's muscles as one becomes a participant of a full surrender to the other.  The envy and jealousy made to come, in many a chance thoughtlessly, by the one we love.  The very same obsession and even the very feeling of being possessed by feelings that are impossible to get a hold of.  Centuries had to go by for someone to be able to write the only thing that still needed to be written.  Finally, William Shakespeare gave it to us.  He granted our kind with a brutal understanding of incomprehension itself.  He gave us all the right to set out on restrictionless loving, with outbursts and ravings, with the desperate and euphoric surrender that only can be supplied by those who suffer from spasms and panic attacks in lieu of the momentary loss of that only person that sets them on fire like dragon flares.
It is so easy -says my brother as he lights his cigarette- for two souls that have found each other to give themselves away in the deepest of ways.  All that is required is both wills.  That is all.  And there will not be a force in the universe that prevents them both from finding, loving and interweaving each other's fates together.  Montagues, Capulets, whomever there may be, and as widely they may be distributed within the universe shell.  If the wills of both are there, distance in all of its shades will matter nought, and absolute hatred will not transcend above them.  Nothing will stop them both from loving, given that is their wish.  If that is what they truly want.  Two souls will overcome all obstacles in order to get to the experience of being, in unison.
Sadly, it is easier for the most intrinsic bonds to fade, get destroyed, and eventually turn into nausea and dark, painful oblivion.  Because, for that to occur, all is needed is that, from both, only one becomes undecided.  For two hearts to wind out dead to each other, all is needed is one of them bringing up excuses.  Only one to stop committing.  Or that only one starts giving conditions to love, or decides ceasing their loving.
My brother is wise, and he tells me all of this with gleeful loud voices, since that is the way he makes actual conversation.  Little does he know that this thing he is sharing with the joy of recent discovery is too painful to be heard.  I look into my watch, and make up that I have to go now.  We say goodbye, and I walk crying to the nearest subway station.


Spanish version here

No comments: