Publicado el

Inception of the Tico Commons

Building a NEW framework for collective collaborative global resilient plan

We are all in on it. Somehow we all think that the work we are doing is heading towards this direction. The more we talk about it, the more it actually becomes mainstream «chit chat». It’s happening in the calls we are answering to. Or in the way we are shaping policy, transformational drive, and value-based projects being deployed trying to tackle the systemic biggest and greatest challenges. It’s happening in the local scale, and we see how this local effort resonates to the bigger picture, as the global scenarios condition the sustainability of our planet, the use of our limited resources, the context of the interconected society, and tensions that have limit the continuos economic growth that the neoliberal project promised years ago, and failed to deliver.

On the other hand, populist over-simplistic solutions are spreading their influence among the population that has most suffered from the undelivered expectations from the political and economical models of the past few decades. These explorations and diagnosis is now spiraling into the realms of disinformation, fake news, pseudoscientific theories, falacies, lies, and narratives that are established across platforms, institutions, universities, researches,… that seem to cover the whole spectrum of intelectual and scientific excellence to back up just about any given new age theory. Thus, trust is perceived as something we are only willing to give the people we share the same sort of political, social and thought structure, and everyone else at the opposite end. This is true regardless of where the truth actually lies. But people tend to think they are the ones holding the truth. But the wildest lie is being amplified as a holy truth. Religions now turn to influencers to back up the social agreement and co-dependence on the power drill that some of the old and new players are exercising towards the masses that congregate around an over-simplistic definition of: «us».

Marketing of what’s happening. The branding of a transformational ride. The ultimate sensation of the revolution that is currently taking place, embracing our role in the consumer business of the interconected society, as we have all jumped into the band-wagon of the NEW world.

The computational capacity upgrade and the emergence of IA rapidly evolving as the algorithms capture more and more acurately the information that we willingly or blissfully unaware, share with the AI that’s rolled out seemlessly as a global experiment of the NEW evolving AI, but triggered by the understanding of a common stand for the greater good of our collective interconnected society.

I’ve experienced the risk of overeaching too far beyond, and I have been spelled from the system I’ve help to create. I’ve fallen out of love with the expression of interest in the struggle against our biggest fears taking place right in front of our eyes. And I’ve felt betrayed by my own incapacity to follow through, and by the lack of clarity to transfer the knowledge and experience generated across my own journey to where I am today. And I now know that I am ready to step through that barrier. And let go of the weight.

I’m back in the value business. And I will do my best to interconect the dots that the nine NEW dimentions will unleash in the quest around the first 99 days of 2025. This kickstarts the year of the ethernal return. It will take place in the course of action that has been designed and plotted as a cultural project that goes beyond time and space. It’s been here for oever 999 days, hours and some 99 formats that I will express and explain in at least 9 different ways. In 9 diderent categories.

It’s an old story.

And a brand new scope.

A NEW opportunity.

It’s linked with everything else.

Everywhere.

Here; now; then.

For the common good is the destination of the Tico Commons.

And this overexplanation will still 9 other ways to shape the actual launch of a Tico Commons. And this will happen as we go through the 99 days. You will too have a say in this relevant political reassessment. It’s all NEW from now on. Even in the political design of the agenda. A current active plan.

Join me.

I’m here to help.

Connecting the dots: evangelizing and feedbackloopping.

A classic NEW standard.

And the 99 local narratives.

The voices from beyond.

ALLS

Publicado el

Swift, Thomas Mann, Panofsky, Gombrich

On Moo Pak

Reading material from a reading source. Books that lead you to books. Writing about reading. Thought from another time, still present, still meaningful, still new. Ideas that go beyond the state of affairs, that turn out to be travelling fast nowadays. As always, in accordance with the feeling of each time, magnified by the disruption of sources of meaningless distractions. All the time. Everywhere.

Tuns out I have to read more. More sources. More books. Other cultures. It’s not new. It’s an old assignment. And I still have a to read list that tends to infinity. And yet, somehow, sometimes, I get in the zone, and accumulate a winning streak. I’m reading just about the amount of books I could handle. And still, sometimes, it feels like it’s not enough.

Johnathan Swift

You look at a writer’s picture and wonder. In this case, a painting. That’s the person. Under his skin, there’s the story. How did it come to mind at first? How did it evolve into the final draft of the finished print? How many people got involved in this process?

The writer is the lone creator on it own. It requires no one else to pitch in, while sometimes relevant feedback may help to assist the point. A good friends ear. An editor’s advice. A publisher desire to risk the chances of people caring. At that point, there are more people involved. We are now talking about the industry. About the market, and no longer about the writing in itself. But what’s good writing without readers. Just thoughts. Lonely ones. Aspirations. Melancholy.

Thomas Mann

Thomas Mann was the man. Cigarrete lit, winter gloves of a gentle-man. Carefully shaped and tendered mustage. Four button suit. Stern wooden chair. Glancing eyes.

Jonh and Tom enter a room. They came together. The room turns and judges the two charecters. Something is on. Everybody knows. They still keep their cool, as the spell has been bound, and the action is just waiting to reveal itself. It will take some time. It’s not loud. Not yet. It’s only intriguing. And sparkling. Nobody else has that chill. Yet the party has been transformed. In an unexpected way. A good way.

That’s how you differentiate writers. The ones that can enter the room and light up the space. And the ones that only do that when they enter into their world. Where everything, every card, every sense of joy, every precision, every spirit, every meaning, spells itself out into the page, while leaving nothing left in real life, but the empty container of curious mind without social skills. As writers, they both trascend, as it’s in reading where you build the immaculate communion of two minds, and evolve into the possibilities of creating yet another story, yet another tale, yet another creative outburst.

Van Dyke según Panofsky

You can write about anything. Stories, however, represent a different kind of writting. Everyone writes in their own terms. Art too can be narrated. Text lives beyond literature, and it may be printed on any given matter, in any given surface, for any given purpose.

Ernst Gombrich, Art historian

The Story of Art. Gombrich has influence the narrative of art. Up to the point in which the character of Moo Pak understood that these four characters were bound to be mentioned in a stream of thought, at any given time, to transfer a profound reference to something condensed in tiny hint. Context provides the first field of action. If you are outside of it, the sense of it slips by. And you go on. And so does the inintial intention of that given thought. So going back to capture them, is a matter of being able to rewind time. To back up. To read again. To read. For the first time. An author you don’t know, but now have a purpose to pursue.

ALLS

Publicado el

Monday… once again

It’s a wheel turning. A day in, a day out. And what for? That’s the real issue. The focus on something worth be-ing. And that is achieved in a long process of questioning yourself. Questioning the learnings in your education, in the system, in society. And still, there is no right answer.

Things are tough. And we are dealing with stuff in our very own personal circumstances. The things within our heads. The voices that speak just to us. And the deamons.

But somehow, the struggle within is just a one man show. Or an insider’s job. There is something of us in every conspiracy. And the opposite two. The white angel and the red devil that inhabit our elbows. The duality starts right there. And you are stuck in the middle.

There is no clear alternative but to go on. And find the inspiration in every step along the way. Every step with the confidence that it is taking you places. Places you need to attend to. To show up. And deliver a good version of yourself. Maybe so by inspiring trust. Or building it. Or recovering it. It’s still a massive effort to get out and do your thing. Unless you’re in the zone. But that takes work. And time. And effort.

I’m close to that feeling. The zone is close by. And I’m ready to make that final sprint.

Or this initial drive.

Let’s start the week with this first step: Monday.

ALLS

Publicado el

Ain’t no script for you in Hollywood

Denial letters will keep you going

When am you going to write a script? You think all the script you’ll get for you are going to be as good as «Boys N the Hood»? Hollywood ain’t got no scripts for you. Unless you wanna do bullshit. You can write songs like you write, you can write a movie.

John Singleton to Ice Cube

Representation will not come to you just as mainstream drive. You need to present a case for yourself. You got to do that part of the job. It’s not going to happen just because you think it would be fair. You need to make it happen. You.

The singularity of everyone’s perspective is determined by the uniqueness of our experience, from our very own little point of view. We are the active actors of the development of our vision. And no one else is going to pave the way for you.

I know this shit from way back when. And I’ve never come out myself. I’ve held on to something else. A lame excuse that holds to my very own insecurities to avoid the stepping into the abyss drill. And I’m pretty sure this shit ain’t working, because no one has taken that step for me. As only I can.

As only I should.

Damn, it’s a hard shit.

I feel for the feeling of the underrepresented. Their voices haven’t been heard. They don’t get the chance mainstream stories are depicting. But who’s to change that. The scriptwriters write about what know. About what works. About their own little formulas. The establishement works like that because that how it got established. Something else is up for the up and coming voice within you. And if you are searching for recognition, maybe you should try searching within to find your truth, your soul, your arguments. And from there on, built the narrative that represent the stories you wish you had. The truth you would like to see on the screen. And then you have the type of shit that would look in the character you are playing, in the scenes that you are directing, or in the films you are producing.

Open the door. Assume the responsibilities. Act upon them. Write your own shit. Walk your own talk. Stop complaining to the world, and start showing up with your own voice.

Start with the first.

Start today.

ALLS

Publicado el

La cocina, de Alonso Ruizpalacios

La migración de mexicanos a Estados Unidos es una vieja historia. La segunda generación de mexicanos-americanos, o chicanos como se les etiquetó en un sitio en donde la raza, la religión, la procedencia y el dinero sirven para segmentar la sociedad, han votado a Donald J. Trump como presidente. Esto es un reflejo de que la vida del que emigra adquiere un sentido de renuncia y otro de aceptación, pero nunca del todo satisfecho con lo que en un lado u otro de lo que en el stio de partida o en el destinación se define como «propio». El que emigra siempre sigue ausente, quizás esperando su momento de aceptación. Y su integración siempre está en duda. Quizás porque debe asumir ciertos elementos propios de otra cultura, o asumirse en un contexto en el que desarraigarse de sus raíces le parece contradictoriamente imperativo. O justo al revés.

No hay un crónica única de la emigración. Sin embargo parece que los sitios con historia de emigrantes suelen tener el foco en otro momento anterior, cuando entonces los que llegaron eran los que valían la pena. Pero en algún momento esto se tiene que acabar. Hay que cerrar el grifo. Que es el mantra con el Don T. ha llegado otra vez al poder. El «nosotros» de la Great América de Trump los incluye a ellos; a esa segunda o tercera generación. Ellos ya son de allá.

Y el que es americano de verdad está motivado por la victoria. Por el ganar. Ganar dinero. Ganar el super bowl. O que lo gano tu equipo. Ganar las elecciones. La sensación de ser parte de una mayoría. Ya nos aceptaron, pensarán. No somos como aquellos. Los come-gatos.

Alonso Ruizpalacios acaba de sacar una película que retrata la vida de una cocina en Times Square, que sirve cada día a turistas comida de medio pelo, en un contexto de las cocinas americanas que están llevadas en su mayoría por emigrantes mexicanos. Es el acceso a tener una chamba, con lo que implica para empleadores y trabajadores formar parte de la sociedad, y cómo representa un juego de rol de los que «dan oportunidades» y los que las «toman», como si hubiera alternativa.

El sistema de los indocumentados en USA o en la EU persigue una diálectica de invasión que no es del todo fidedigna, mientras las oportunidades a los migrantes se ven empantanas por burocracias que simplemente se formulan como un sistema perverso que ni avanza ni expulsa, pero que en medio de esa situación genera distorciones y desigualdades de poder en el que aquellos que se mueven entre escalas de grises se encuentran. No es un tema de ahora, sino de siempre. Y reconozco que no sabría cómo plantear un modelo en el que dichas violencias subterráneas dejaran de existir.

Como siempre la mirada y la crítica social de Alonso nos permiten analizar con matices situaciones en las que debemos prestar atención, y disfrutar del buen momento del cine mexicano.

Entrevista de Alonso con Carmen Aristegui sobre su peli La Cocina

¡Hay que verla!

Publicado el

People frightened of silence

Moo Pak ins and out

I’m walking along with this book like a walk in a park with a conversationalist. I’m steping in and out cause I need to come back to it, and then I feel the rush of comming here to write. It’s an exercise I’ve been forced to do by the fact that I cannot jot down a single scribble on the pages, as I am used to, because the book is borrowed. I need to give it back, eventually, as I got it. And it is in impecable conditions.

Nobody imposed this on me. I did. It’s always you who drive things around. In or out. It’s all in your head anyway. And you categorize the exercise. You make it happen so we understand the feeling of where this system is going. The personal system you own set of microcomponents, soul, body and shit… make up for. You are a complete social ecosystem. Yet, you still are just on your own, among the masses of an interconnected society.

So for quite some days I’ve had this urge to go back to Moo Pak to write about this. Silence. Solitude. Being with yourself. But as it turns out, the book has this beautiful constant voice that keeps talking and walking, and there is no stopping. It’s a single thread of a thought that connects logically with the next, and so on, and so forth. Sudenly, I don’t feel alone.

I do the same. This is how I write. No matter the intention. I just show up and start. And I’ve become obsessed with this. It’s time with myself. Alone. In silence. Just meeting the point of interconnectivity with my fingertips, my voice, unheard, within my head. Does anybody knows where this is going? No. And that’s no problem.

The problem is I leave map from Donosti to as a page marker. It’s a bit chunky but it does the job. It does less damage than leaving a pen, which I will avoid doing in this case, as I would like to spill ink, or some shit like that. You know that’s always a chance. Specially with a borrowed item. You are constantly on the verge of messing up. I know. We all know. It’s the pressure of staying consistant, and logical, and sane. We fool ourselves to stay on the game. And it’s there, a little bit on the edge, glancing at the scene.

In any case, what I was trying to say is that every time I go back to that point in the book where I last left my reading, I need to be able to go back to the point where Woo Pak left that last intense message I needed to come back to. To make a point. To deliver this other thought. Writers do that. I’ve heard them say it when they show up in that other state of mind you get yourself into when you are speaking for an audience. And then you are no longer a writer, but also an entertainer. Publicly addressing crowds, sometimes even larger than 9 people.

So when I go back to read I’m not in the page where the last message that signal my writing spirit erupted, so I need to go back to the last two or three pages, in order to get back in track with a stream of consciousness. So I do. And then I wonder what I was looking for. For everything turns out to be truth. Slightly more intense in places I hadn’t wondered upon. And I keep going back, maybe, to find what my past reading found that now is eluding me. And I wonder if I put then, on this second reading, the Donosti map a page earlier than the last time I read, because I’d be already signaling the place where I needed to come back to, to write, not to keep reading.

So you see, Woo Pak becomes like this pleasent conversion of time. I can move back and forth this stream, as time should allow to do, for any given timeline. But we are always so focused on going forward, we sometimes disregard the fact that time also has that negative ride: backwards.

And this also why I don’t feel alone anymore. I found a place in which I can excercise this going back. And I am enjoying myself. In this silent mode. Everytime Woo Pak kicks me out of that book, and into this one.

I keep reading back and back and get entangled with that direction of the book. And I’m already hooked. I’m back to the point that I last wrote about. About typing in a computer or typing in a typewriter. As an exercise to rewrite a single page. Over and over. Until you have cleaned it up. Something I never do. As write directly on the cloud. And almos never edit. Which is my own little purgatory.

It’s the sense of writing. The interconection with reading. How they are both there. The silences. Of the book. But also of this other time: the writing one. Even if it is closer to something you may relate to, like reading a post. Or like reading an actual book. Just to organize your time around something physical. Not just a screen. A real human interaction. I also write on paper. It nos just gives me pleasure, it also sits on a different table than writing on the computer or right into the page with an Olivetti. I used to own a typewritter. Not anymore.

The labour of scribes and editors and printers and proof-readers, [ ] Because of the work of these dedicated people, he says, we can now pick up the words of singular men and women and read them and listen to them and question them and live with them in greater intimacy than we do with our own spouses or partners. For a persona like myself, he says, with no country and no language to call his own, a life without Sophocles and Dante and Donne and Stevens would be intolerable.

Gabriel Jsopivici, Moo Pak

In fact I came into this writing exercise today to speak about the silence in books. The silence in writing. The intimacy of being alright with yourself. How writing and reading is part of it. How the author is aligned with Proust about the kind of special silence books have. And I’ve gone back too far back, to point out he craft of those who rescued the ancient voices of the past. Others burned books and libraries. Entire cultures. Washed away and mistreated by our current western ways, disregarding our infliction of damage in this bluring effect.

The most terrible thing that has happen to people today, he says, is that they have grown frightened ofsilence. Instead of seeking it as a friend and as a source of renewal they now try in every way they can to shut it out.

Gabriel Jsopivici, Moo Pak

This is has grown worst nowadays. Silence is not there anymore. Everyone’s got some source of continuos distraction in the mobile phone. It’s not even a complete song. It’s a message to keep you hooked to a short spasm of blabering. Something intense as pill, or distractful enough to catch your attention. We are switcing channels all the time. Endlessly. Which leaves no space for silence. And that’s not just a thing to miss, but also the source of being alright with yourself. No matter what. Books, silence, writting, it’s all part of the source of inmense power we have refill ourselves. We can bring it up as a routine to heal. Walks. To the mountain. Walks with a friend, with different kinds of friends, to align and talk, and to share the silences in between.

ALLS

Publicado el

Between the 45th and the 47th president

This is an era of disruptive mechanisms to establish who shouts the loudests, and who used the IA tools in the best way to drive transformation and change in our society. It’s not clear. It’s not entirely out there, but the capacity of minorities to drive some doubtful and unproven evidence to the mainstream has turn the seek for truth in a distorted gullible everchanging scene.

It’s like a morphing meme.

Life has taken a turn. And we are riding a wave we don’t control. So the hidden forces has taken a stand and have looked for mechanisms to empower what they believe is most holly. To try to make it happen… for them. A new collective of desperate middle class has erupted with anger and dispear and has taken the lead and command in following the natural-born NEW leader.

This distopic scenario has been also the same sort of thing I’ve been dealing with along the path to understand we are at in this ever-changing world. And the character of that crazy candidate that comes from the raging force of societal cry against the machine used to be a feeling of some people, artist, dreamers, who were fighting to say something that was going against the flow of tides. And from that erupts an emergent field and force. And this takes over. For good.

That seems to have happened with the scenario of Don J. Trumb (like J. as Homer J. Simpson, if we must find a valid reference… everyman) comming back to the number one job at the top of the power ladder in the social scene that has been established in the risk board game we are all watching unfold. The regular players are sitting on the table. The forgotten ones are listening in, without a voice. There might be eight players in there, and their alliances, their similarities, their sinergies, their strategic partnerships, their codepencies, their histories, their commonwealth, their trade relationships, their common ancestors, the common culture, the common law, the kinds of governance, the royal families, the paradoxes. But there lies a ninth seat empty at the table. This is the only space left for us to take a stand. And I wasn’t ready for it, until now.

I’m not going to watch the American entretainment that this NEW american campaign has unleashed, one more time, for us to witness without a vote. The relationship of that executive body will lead to many experimental scenarios where those new people in charge will deal with the way in which the oldest democratic experiment is put to the test of withstanding a balancing act of checks and ballances that are to be ruled by a holy emperor who’s been send by God, according to his fellowship of whisperers and ballot validators.

Will the USA institutional system withstand after four more years of the Trump era. The setting the scene for a radical act is already going to happen as yet another entertainment show that is going to unleash the deamons that have some interconnection with the movilizing of resources and funds that come from highest debt generator since the gold-backed system turn the world around the printing money scheme that supports the modern economic theory of the last 60-80 years. Keynes vs Friedman. But the new set of people in charge are not that kind of theoriest. They are the Bannon-era of Cambridge analytica turn into the perfect gathering machine of a massive movement. This exercise, as Bannon intended yet back in the day, is intended to find the allies in external systems, in order to influence elections and restore leaderships. Something in the line of Russia’s hackers introducing fake-news in other peoples elections. It’s now mainstreamed. And people are already raging on it. Russia is already made a move in fueling the war economy to shaken the options of enemies and allies in terms of a response. This fuels the war economy and those who benefit from it, and also puts presure on the energy business, creating yet even greater havoc into people lives: everthing becomes more expensive.

So we are about to witness some geopolitical movements that will reshape some frontiers and some priorities in how we defend ourselves (always military budgets going up). De-escalation of violence is going to take yet another act of threat: we’ll take piece along the promise of some sort of giving up. Renouncination time. Some of our liberties and hopes. And we are going to move our red lines as well as our values as well as our frontiers. The enemy is always close by. The scape goat. The alibi.

If the world is going to move somewhere in the following four years, my guess is that it should move ortogonally in the direction where the given dimentions of our collective understanding have allowed up to now. The revolts in MAGA, the far right movements, the Arab Spring, Indigandos, the Catalan independentist, the Occupy Wall street, the 8M,… name any given sudden burst of revolution, is not nearly enough to find the common ground for an understanding. Now the situation is not equitable in each case. The actors and history. The violence is not equally distributed. The war on terror somehow shifted the scene into the new wars after COVID: Israel genocide in Gaza, and Russia invasion in Ukraine. The starting point are in the results from the WWII, a NEW state, a balancing act on how to repair the atrocities committed by the Nazis during the holocaust, and sionist dream of coming back home, as stated in an ancient tale. Because God said so. The ever-present man.

Where are thou?

Hear my son.

Here.

ALLS

Publicado el

Starting point

You are where you are. Life has brought you here. That’s the kind of thing everyone, anyone realle, a coach, an influencer, your spouse, your guru, your spiritual leader, your priest, your own private phisopher, your third eye, … would tell you: focus on the moment.

Now is the time.

There’s no other time.

You know about the past, about the future, how they don’t really exist. And then you are stuck with the moment. And the moment is gone. It just shifted. Like these words apearing in front of me.

Reading; writting.

It’s an act of connecting the fingers (in case you are typing), your mind, and the «paper». Or the screen, really. In this new version of the narrative scene.

Short and without derivatives.

I often speak too much. And loose the audience. Not really my thing to be concise and to the point. I don’t just play short and to the foot. I like risk. I elaborate plans. And then execute them. But if you don’t have your team with you. It’s worthless. You are on your own. And nobody is listening. You are just playing for a lame vacuum in your narrow limited story you tell yourself. That’s not the game. It’s your obsession.

Order and adventure

Aparently on day Jorge Luis Borges said that literature was order and adventure. Later, Cesar Luis Menotti repurpuse the idea and said that football was exactly that: order and aventure. Too much order, nothing happens. To much adventure, chaos.

A third derivative of that concept could be apply to impact-driven innovation adoption. What does that mean? Well intaking innovation that actually help to transform the system in a way that represents a higher value for the common good. I know, I know, I’ve lost you a bit. Bear with me. I believe that tha these type of innovation is also oder and adventure.

  • Too much order is not disruptive enough, not quick enough, not meaningful enough. Systems resist to change, if there is still a reward for the ones holding the cards. They would have no desire to move from that position.
  • Too much adventure, it just becomes a messy «I must jump into this bandwagon» by all means, regardless of the value or the direction I want to go to. You then generate some movement, but might jus be spinning in circles. Not quite moving.

So to drive truly meaningful transformational societal change, we must first share a vision of where all these things should be going. And to that, we are often faced with a bigger scale above within our role, as humans or as part of any given institution, that is being played in higher hierarchy. A higher dimention. So too much order is just helping the resistance to change to back up the status quo, while too much adventure is just helping the noise level to rise. How may impact-driven innovation then flourish among these two counter forces: with a proper mix of order and adventure.

This is true for the entrepeneur world and for the the demand-side actors who are willing to make an attempt to drive transformational change to their innovation ecosystem. With demand-driven innovation (pull), these two worlds end up meeting halfway. Conversely, business-driven innovation (push) may also find its way to undertand this as yet another meaningful arena to drive their impact as well as their ROI.

This is the starting point.

NAW is the time.

Let’s start a NEW journey.

Let’s implement our very own theory of change.

ALLS

Publicado el

About a thought

«Whenever we thing of thought, he says, we have before our eyes the image of Rodin’s Thinker, sitting immense and solitary with his great wise head in his great wise hand and gazing deep into himself.»

Moo Pak, Gabriel Josipovici

It’s certainly relevant. A thought. It’s as good as it gets. The inception of new idea. The consolidation of an inspiring new thought, there passing by for the first time in our human experience. And somehow magical.

But Moo Pak nails it, whether the narrator of the writer, or the universal connection between them, and us, plain readers of someone else’s thought. «It does not need Gilbert Ryle, he says, to show us that this image ins only and image of what those who have never had a thought in thier lives imagine the process of thinking to be».

That’s it. It’s not that at all. It’s not really there. Not the precise image, but rather what we hav socially simplify of what should be a very natural development for any human being.

«There is no such a thing as a pure thought, he says, there is only a sudden sharp intuition, a stirring of the blood, which you have to coax into shape, into words».

Precisely. It’s a scavenger hunt that you have not been prepared for. But you have trained yourself to capture them. To coax them into words. As a matter of life or death. The death of deepness in that thought, that if you are not able to recover, it will never be. It’s a dark road filled with intention and failure. «Most of the time you do not succeed. Either you cannot find the words or you find the words but they are not the right words for the feeling you have had».

But he idea is that sometimes when you are hit with one of those moments and actually nail it down to words, the feeling becomes complete: bigger than itself, as well as than yourself.

Such clarity to define the robust and simply nature of a thought. But from a precise persepctive. It’s not that the image of thought of the Thinker is vague, or that he goes out for a walk with a fried to thinkg. Or to come up with thoughts. He does it to talk. To talk and walk. And that has some rules on its own. A common set of rules that you share with the person you walk with, and his own context, problems, and circumstances. No script. No landmark. Just walk. Street. Life. What’s in your head. What’s become of you. What’s in the air?

And that links the two spaces in one. I mean Moo Pak. The idea of thought, as it emerges. But rather the relevance of walking with a friend, talking. That’s the deal. But not only. It’s when you go back to your desk, and you find yourself once again in the solitude of the alchemist producing the mixture of words to define the text that pursues the clarity, the brevity, the spotonness of the ideas, that now, become vividly connected with where we were before that walk. We need to be in places that await for us to link them with their sense of higher being. The final destination. The essence of a thought.

Walk, talk and desk. It’s about the written experience of that solitude, once you’ve done the letting go, the active listening, the silence-sharing, and the harmonizing beats of every step along the ride. And it’s also about aknowledging those places. About nourishing the spirits. Searching for the time to meet, to walk. And talk. In a sensible way friends fill in the time to let you be. And to listen. And to build from there. Whatever fulfills us. Whatever help we need. It’s all there.

Yet, the homework awaits.

You must come back.

A find the place. The time. The desk. And write.

Like this.

Like that.

ALLS

Publicado el

Vamos a empezar… otra vez

Este lugar no es más que un eterno retorno. Siempre vuelvo con la misma expectativa de organizarme y relanzar la oportunidad de salir. Y de ver qué pasa. Y luego no salgo. No pasa nada.

No pasa nada.

Es decir, que tampoco pasa nada si no pasa nada.

Es lo que los que nos ponemos excusas pensamos. Y de alguna manera tenemos razón. Se trata sólo de una autocensura. Un lugar común. Un pretexto eterno. La voluntad de no-ser.

¿Ser o no-ser?

Y elegimos no-ser.

Y no pasa nada.

Pero nada de nada.

Y lo que queríamos ser se queda mirándo de reojo. Como queriendo decir algo. Como sabiendo que es un engaño. Que todo es un engaño. Incluido esto. Una distracción de mago para que nada pase. Y quedarnos tan tranquilos. Dentro de nuestro plan b.

Y el plan b no deja de ser un sitio cómodo. Un sitio que siempre cuesta mantener. Porque también estuvimos sumidos en el plan c, d, e y f. Y no pintaban bien. Fueron caídas duras que forjaron caracter. Y que nos llevaron a discutir con nuestra propia existencia el por qué de las cosas. Y lo que hicimos mal. Y lo que hiciste mal. Tú.

Por mi culpa, por mi culpa, por mi gran culpa.

Y todo vuelve a empezar.

Pero en otro momento decidí que esto no iba a ser así. Iba a a transcurrir en otro tipo de escenario. En otro tipo de actitud. Con otro plan. En otra estructura… o debo decir metaestructura. Soy un arquitecte de arquetipos. Y desde aquí voy creando carcasas vacías que pretendo rellenar, en un primer momento, con un traje a medida. Una especie de Iron Man, ahora que todo tiene que tener un símil militarista-marvelista. Vaya, he caído en la trampa.

En realidad estamos hablando de una narrativa del héroe. Nada nuevo entre todo el cúmulo de historias y estructuras que te promueven los que crearon la manera de contar historias. Y lo que nos hemos acostumbrado a ver. Y de lo que quería hacer a tener que conformarme con la estructura de las masas para la creación light… paso.

Mejor no hacer nada.

Y seguir en el continuum de la vida.

Viendo pasar el tiempo.

En la pasividad de quién se dirige al mundo desde el sofá.

Y no pasa nada.

Y desde aquí las cosas se ven mejor/peor que hace un momento. Y nada tiene que ver con quién soy o lo que hice por adoptar otra postura. Una fuera de este sitio en el que vivo enjaulado. Quizás es mi manera de exponer una situación particular. Una manera de ser en otra dimensión. Un impulso por promover otra cosa más grande de lo que hasta ahora se nos había ocurrido. Megalomanía al servicio de la comunidad.

Ya estamos. Me estoy poniendo trampas en el camino. Para tropezarme y burlarme de mi. Mientras nadie más rie. Nadie más se da cuenta. A nadie más le interesa. Es ese flujo de ideas inconexas que perdieron al auditorio en el primer desvio. Divagaciones trampa.

Yo me fui encontrando en medio de esas divagaciones. Es un poco como el amigo imaginario de Joy en Inside Out, la primera. La segunda todavía no la he visto. Está claro que hay metaestructuras mentales que interactuan dentro de la maquinaria de impulsos, shocks electricos y departamentos en el sistema complejo que se encierra dentro del craneo de cada invidividuo. Ahora mismo el mio se ha puesta a trabajar en este sentido, y nadie tiene el control de lo que aquí está sucediendo. El tren del pensamiento mental está saltándo a la pantalla. Y lo puedo leer yo, porque también lo escribo. Este triple salto mortal. Y de esto algo queda grabado en algún sitio. Pero ya en forma de texto. Esto ya es otra cosa a lo que era yo al principio de este ejercicio de presentarse a escribir.

Y de este lugar he hecho mi casa. Y de aquí no he pasado. Pero el ejercicio de ser lo que escribo está reflejado en el historial de llegar aquí y desatar este truco de magia: escribir.

Hay un punto posterior: compartir. Difundir. Pensar que alguien más podría perderse por aquí. Que aquí hay algo más que un tipo perdido en medio de una tormenta que se arremolina hacia interiores oscuros nunca antes explorados. No necesito estado de consciencia alterada para encontrar un hilo conductor que no vaya a ninguna parte. Es ya parte de lo que soy. Caos.

El límite del caos presenta una noción a contrapelo. El sentido más sublime se encuntra en medio de esta maraña de interacciones. Hemos pasado a un nivel posterior de consciencia. Y este es el camino en el que voy a desborme a mi mismo en un plano temporal que vaya en dos direcciones: atrás y adelante.

Els desdoblamiento de uno mismo en dos direcciones. La primera dualidad. Dejar de ser uno… y dualizarse frente al espejo.

Pasado, futuro.

El presente no existe. Se me acaba de escapar. Y lo persigo otra vez. El tiempo en sí es una trampa, a la que volvemos sin cesar.

No hay más tiempo para divagaciones ni excusas.

Estamos en la puerta de oráculo.

Tenemos la palabra de acceso.

ALLS

El oráculo abre los ojos. Ya estamos dentro.