Il Principio - The Principle

Ognuno di noi possiede la verità, intraprende quindi il proprio cammino infinito per conoscerla. Questa è l'essenza del sentire, la luce dell'esistenza. Questo è il cammino che in ogni passo del sogno ci porta dal possedere la verità ad essere la verità.
Each of us possesses the truth, then undertakes his endless journey to know the truth. This is the essence of feeling, the light of existence. This is the path that in every step of the dream leads us from having the truth to being the truth.

Wednesday 3 August 2011

Oh, the stare she gave me. - Oh, lo sguardo che mi ha dato.

Oh, the stare she gave me.

And I thought to myself, come on you're smart enough to understand. You can see it, because if you spend a lot of time observing, processing direct and indirect experience, thinking and then producing and publicly sharing deep sentences in a kind of compulsive search for contact, as if you were some kind of alien looking for somebody of his own species, you're either a homosexual trying to come out or a lonely and mentally fucked up person and I definitely belong to the second category, though I wonder if the first one would've been easier to belong to for at least there would've been nothing wrong about it. I'm smart enough to know the reasons behind my thoughts and actions, I know myself enough to admit the bloody truth to myself. Because I know that if you have spent quite some time in a fucking hospital during the initial years of your life and you've been an unattractive ostracised kid with self confidence issues and physical limitations that you've managed to overcome not without going through some tough times, you might end up looking like some kind of semi autistic individual who thinks he's pretty deep and somehow smart while still having the same fucking lack of self confidence with a good portion of it replaced by repressed rage for old wounds which can sting beyond the regrown skin even nowadays and a complex fucked up mental superstructure built to partially cover the flaws. So when you're like me and you flee from a country which nourished your soul while sucking your blood and time away, where people pissed on your head telling you it was raining, and you end up in a modern and prosperous country, whose wonderful solitary landscapes are sprinkled with a copious splash of dimwittedness, flashy lights and ugly tall buildings that cut the horizon and have no sense of aesthetics, and find that friends are few and you and the ones you trust are far between, that most people pass you by with their emptiness at a speed that could only be achieved by furiously rolling on their selves in a ball shape as if they were trying to suck their own cunts and cocks, well, my friend, you might start asking yourself what the fuck you're supposed to be doing walking on this wonderful red soil, as red as your deepest blood, if it's just as arid as you're invited to become every fucking minute of this new pointless life. The stench of junk food tainted shit and pissed cheap beer is overwhelming, the sight of chubby half naked chicks with too much make up on and too few brain cells is revolting, while luxury consumes itself in long queues in front of loud night clubs that look like filthy temples of superficial intoxication. Oh, how much I fucking despise the shallow corners of this city and reject the shit headed zombies that tread its pavements. And the people, so many are running towards nowhere instead of enjoying the journey, filling their empty lives with toys in order to try and soothe synthetic desires instead of admitting their own ugliness to themselves. At the same time I've met people with who I felt a connection, people of many spiritual forms and deepness, people who have welcomed me and made me feel loved and to whom I am truly grateful. But they can't fill the void completely. Maybe I should do like I did last time I went back to my native country and satisfy my heart and skin with as many ephemeral and temporary emotions as I could steal, leaving beds emptier than the void I'd fill them with, release myself into the flesh and soul of my lovers, greedily feed on the taste of the tender skin between their necks and shoulders, gladly drown in the amazement in their eyes, ride their thoughts and thighs, scratch and bite, only to temporarily satisfy this void that strangles my heartbeats and clings to every breath. No matter how unattractive I am, I can still seduce a soul. But there are far too few souls around me, so I guess it would be pointless to even try. And in the end the void would still remain. I'm breaking down, this is no rant, this is fucking real, and I'm craving for a turning point, without having anything to prove. Sometimes I just feel like I'd want to throw away my soul and knowledge, all my deep feelings and experience and just suck the lymph out of this fucking place till there is nothing left for me to stay here for.

But the truth is that she wasn't smart enough to understand and I only wished she would've been. And I was fucking stupid to hope so.

--------

Oh, lo sguardo che mi ha dato.

E ho pensato tra me e me, dai che sei abbastanza intelligente per capire. Lo puoi vedere, perché se passi un sacco di tempo ad osservare, elaborare esperienze dirette e indirette, a pensare e poi produrre e condividere pubblicamente frasi profonde in una specie di compulsiva ricerca di un contatto, come se fossi una specie di alieno alla ricerca di qualcuno della sua specie, o sei un omosessuale che cerca di venir fuori o sei una persona solitaria col cervello fottuto e io appartengo decisamente alla seconda categoria, anche se mi domando se appartenere alla prima sarebbe stato più facile dal momento che, almeno, non ci sarebbe stato nulla di sbagliato nell'appartenervi. Sono sufficientemente intelligente da conoscere le ragioni che si celano dietro ai miei pensieri ed alle mie azioni, mi conosco sufficientemente bene da ammettere a me stesso la maledetta verità. Perché so che sei hai passato un bel po' di tempo in un fottuto ospedale durante i primi anni della tua vita e sei stato un ragazzino brutto e ostracizzato con problemi di fiducia in se e limitazioni fisiche che sei riuscito a superare non senza attraversare tempi duri, potresti finire per assomigliare a una specie di individuo semi autistico che crede di essere piuttosto profondo ed in qualche modo intelligente, pur mantenendo la stessa fottuta mancanza di fiducia in se con una buona parte di essa rimpiazzata da rabbia repressa a causa di vecchie ferite che possono tutt'oggi bruciare sotto la pelle rigenerata e da una complessa ed incasinata sovrastruttura mentale costruita al fine di coprire parzialmente le imperfezioni. Quindi quando sei come me e fuggi da un paese che ha nutrito la tua anima mentre ti succhiava via tempo e sangue, dove le persone ti pisciavano in testa dicendoti che stava piovendo, e finisci in un paese moderno e prosperoso, le cui meravigliose terre solitarie sono cosparse con una copiosa spruzzata di stupidità, luci sgargianti ed edifici alti ed orrendi che tagliano l'orizzonte e sono privi di senso estetico, e scopri che gli amici sono pochi e tu e quelli di cui ti fidi siete distanti, che molte persone ti passano accanto con il loro vuoto ad una velocità che potrebbe essere raggiunta solo se si rotolassero furiosamente su loro stessi come se stessero cercando di succhiarsi il cazzo o la fica, allora, amico mio, potresti cominciare a chiederti che cazzo ci si aspetta che tu faccia camminando su questa meravigliosa terra rossa, rossa quanto il tuo sangue più profondo, se è arida tanto quanto sei invitato a diventare ogni fottuto istante di questa nuova vita priva di senso. Il tanfo di merda contaminata da cibo spazzatura e di pisciate di birra scadente è opprimente, la vista di ragazze sfatte e mezze nude con troppo trucco e troppo poco cervello è rivoltante, mentre il lusso si consuma in lunghe code davanti a rumorosi locali notturni che sembrano templi di ebbrezza superficiale. Oh, quanto cazzo disprezzo gli anfratti di superficialità di questa città e rifiuto le teste di cazzo rincoglionite che ne solcano i pavimenti. E la gente, così tanti che corrono verso niente invece di godersi il viaggio, riempiendosi la vita di gingilli per cercare di placare desideri sintetici invece di ammettere a loro stessi la propria bruttezza. Allo stesso tempo ho incontrato persone con le quali ho percepito un contatto, persone di varie forme spirituali e profondità, persone che mi hanno accolto e mi hanno fatto sentire amato e alle quali sono sinceramente grato. Ma esse non possono riempire il vuoto completamente. Forse dovrei fare come ho fatto l'ultima volta che sono tornato nel mio paese d'origine e soddisfare il mio cuore e la mia pelle con quante più emozioni temporanee ed effimere possa rubare, lasciando letti più vuoti del vuoto col quale li riempirei, rilasciare me stesso nella carne e nell'anima delle mie amanti, nutrirmi avidamente del sapore della tenera pelle tra il loro collo e le loro spalle, annegare con piacere nello stupore dei loro occhi, percorrere i loro pensieri e le loro cosce, mordere e graffiare, solo per soddisfare temporaneamente questo vuoto che strangola i battiti del mio cuore e si aggrappa ad ogni respiro. Non importa quanto io sia poco attraente, sono ancora in grado di sedurre un'anima. Ma ce ne sono così poche intorno a me che immagino non valga nemmeno la pena provare. E alla fine il vuoto continuerebbe a persistere. Sto crollando, questa non è una lamentela priva di senso, questo è fottutamente vero, e sto anelando per una svolta, senza avere nulla da dimostrare. A volte mi sento come se volessi gettare via la mia anima e la mia conoscenza, tutte le mie sensazioni profonde e la mia esperienza solo per succhiare via la linfa da questo posto del cazzo finché non vi sia nulla che mi invogli a restare.

Ma la verità è che non era abbastanza intelligente da capire ed io ho solo sperato che lo sarebbe stata. E sono stato un imbecille a sperarlo.

3 comments:

  1. Dear friends, I have re-read my own words and I realise they can sound scary. Please let me explain what this is all about:

    Back in Italy, nearly every week, various friends and I would gather in front of a beer or some good wine and food and talk. We'd talk about many things, we'd laugh, we'd share thoughts sprinkled with irony, sometimes fine irony, sometimes dirty, but, most of all, we'd talk about life, science, music, literature and all forms of art, religion, sex, spirituality, emotions, personal experiences and enrich each others' minds and souls. This, my friends, I really miss, and my soul and mind are thirsty from this point of view, deeply thirsty. I know that there are many profound people around me, most of them among you, my friends, and I had some wonderful talks with some of you. I just need more, my hunger for shared knowledge is vast and from such hunger I'm suffering. There is more, but this is something I won't publicly share for it touches the private lives of some people.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hey Alessandro,

    I do read your blog from time to time. I like to write myself, so I find it interesting to read others musings. I've never commented before, but this post made me wonder if what you have described here is in part cultural?

    Australia is a warm country, but it's people can be distant at times, just like our landscapes. I find this even though I've lived here most of my life, albeit from an Irish family. We build houses with big fences, to keep ourselves in and others out. Our houses have also become bigger, more foreboding and less communal.

    Things have also changed so much in our world and the consumption of stuff, of drugs; of sex is insatiable and it's ugly. I'm leaving Australia in less than 2 weeks after some time spent travelling over the last few months. I love Australia, but I dislike the destruction that you have described here sometimes. I often think of it as though many people are sleeping. Many want to stay that way too.

    There is ugliness everywhere of course, but I guess we have to accept our own pain and hurt and the only way to do that is to feel it. It seems that what you describe, "luxury consumes itself in long queues in front of loud night clubs that look like filthy temples of superficial intoxication" is how many people deal with their pain and it only creates more. Fantastic description by the way!

    So how can we expect to heal the planet that is screaming at us to change if we cannot heal ourselves? From the little I know of you (as I am one of those people that came and went), not through lack of wanting to know you, just circumstance I guess? You seem like someone who is working towards healing by doing positive things in your life like capoeira. I have found capoeira so helpful to me in this regard. So keep feeling the pain Alessandro! Also remember to have fun in the process and enjoy life when you can in all those positive ways that you know it can be done.

    All the best :)
    Maureen

    ReplyDelete
  3. Dear Maureen,

    thank you sincerely for your kind words.
    I do agree with you, I think that many people don't even realise the pain they have inside and react to it in some kind of mechanised, subconscious way, by reaching for a numbing excess on a regular basis, getting their weekly fix of intoxicating superficiality. People flee from themselves instead of trying to follow the hard path of knowing their true selves and reach for the true freedom which is the ultimate goal of this never ending journey. A journey that in fact sees the goal in every step, as it is in the nature of every true journey. Feeling the pain, being sincere to ourselves, embracing every part of us, which is an infinite number of lives and shards just as much as it is a whole, accepting even what we don't like about ourselves, some times because we have been inoculated with a particular kind of judgement, these are necessary steps on the path of healing. At the same time you have to be ready to lose yourself if you want to find yourself, so I can only hope that people can still awaken from this web of illusions and I sense that there is a lot of potential, even here, in this beautiful and spiritually wounded country.

    ReplyDelete