23 de abr de 2010

Diverso, demasiado diverso

2010. Ano da Biodiversidade. Estava escrito no caderno de um colega de curso.
A disciplina era sujestiva. Prática de Ensino.
Devido aos acontecimentos um tanto caóticos do meu dia, logo pensei num outro tipo de diversidade: a de comportamentos. Não pude deixar de pensar na prática.
A prática dos nossos dias parece ser a da paciência. E isso me remete a uma escrita minha, já de muito tempo: " que a minha abnegação não seja confundida com a resignação que eu não tenho".
Será?
Passei o dia praticando uma tentativa de paciência, que não sei bem se se encaixa na nação que resigna em mim, ou na minha negação oculta dela mesma.
Me aborreci com a casa cheirando a caldo de lixo e também com o saco de 50 kg que coloquei na rua hoje de manhã. E ao me deparar com a solução simples do meu problema malcheiroso, me deprimi. Livrei-me do meu incômodo olfativo, que outrora era permanente, para me alocar num outro incômodo, confortavemente oculto na minha inanição.
Me aborreci com as burrocracias da minha própria produção cultural, pensando ainda que estas são herdadas de outra, e outra, e outra culturas.O que me remete a uma herança humana, demasiada humana e esperançosamente dinâmica.
Me aborreci com as violências, a minha própria, e as outras tantas, de outros tantos. Me aborreci com o egoísmo, mais uma vez.
Os prazos já se passaram, junto com as mais de três cópias de cada documento que tive de reimprimir. Me aliviei ao colocar as folhas no lixo reciclável, como se assim estivesse gastando apenas metade da água e celulose que as fabicaram. O problema não é o nosso consumo, mas  sim o das indústrias, disse uma colega. Me perguntei por quem e de quem são feitas as indústrias, bem como quem as mantém.
A diversidade anda em alta ultimamente. O bom comportamento, nem tanto.
Não sei se a abnegação é melhor ou pior que a resignação.
Nem sei de fato o que é ser bom.
Em todo caso, vou tentando apostar na paciência.

18 de abr de 2010

What I know Well and What I Know Nothing About

Na aula de inglês, a professora me pediu pra falar sobre uma coisa da qual eu soubesse bastante e sobre uma outra qualquer, da qual não eu não soubesse nada. Pensei, pensei, mas pra variar, não consegui meu foco em nada... simplesmente não consegui falar sobre nenhuma das duas coisas... então, já em casa, fiz uma reflexão sobre essa coisa de saber e não saber, e em homenagem a essa professora, fiz-a em inglês...

I have discovered, some time ago, that I know much less than I thought I knew when I was eighteen. This is the first thing that, today, I’m sure I know well: knowing just a few things. (And, because of that discovery, I also know that I’m becoming old). But I’m OK with that, because I believe that I know the most important things about people and things, and also about thoughts.

I know, for example, that there are a lot of people that really love me and really care about me. On the other hand, I also know that from all of these people, I can only ask things to a few. But more important than that, I know that it couldn’t be different, because we just can’t give enough attention to all the people that we would like to. Unfortunately, or not, we need to choose a few people to have a deep relationship with. And always, when we make a choice, we include things, and consequently, exclude others. It doesn’t mean, of course, that we don’t care about the others or that we don’t like them. It just means that we are not able, yet, to put a lot of people in the first place, before us. We can just do it with a few. This is what we call selfishness. I know that we can change this by changing the way we relate to the world, to people, animals, things, feelings and words. I know that it’s difficult, and I hope it’s possible.

I know what I’ve just had for breakfast, but I don’t have any idea of what I’m going to have for lunch or dinner. But I’m sure that I’m going to have these both meals. However, I know that there are many people that know that they are not going to have lunch or dinner, and remember well that they didn’t have breakfast too. And I don’t know why it is like that and why a lot of people think that is needs to be just like that; I know that it’s important to exercise every day, but I don’t know why I don’t do it even once a week; I know that Tchaikovsky composed the melody that I’m listening right know and that I used to dance it some time ago, but I don’t know Tchaikovsky’s first name, and I don’t also know why I can’t dance this anymore; I know that the DNA contains all the genetic information that forms an individual in all it’s morphological, chemical, physical and even behavioral aspects, but I don’t know where exactly the soul and the feelings fit in it; I know how many frog species are described nowadays, but I can’t explain the concept of specie, because until now, nobody could define it well; I know a lot of best seller books, but I don’t know more than three books by Machado de Assis. And I know that there are a lot of people in the world that don’t know how to read a book, a phrase or even their own names; I don’t know a lot of things about politics, but I do know many bad things about politicking and some good things about some few politicians; I know why socialism didn’t work out, I have some ideas why capitalism didn’t do so either, I have many ideas of why people gave up trying and, again, I don’t know why they think it needs to be like that.

I know a lot of specific things about biology, geology, medicine, anthropology, philosophy, religion, art. But I don’t know anything about my great-grandfather, not many things about my grandmother and not even the name of all my mother and father’s brothers and sisters; I know that putting all my blouses on the same hanger makes me feel really annoyed, but I know also that I would feel much more annoyed with the garbage that I would generate if I bought one hanger for each blouse of mine; I know that I love my dog, and even being a scientist, I’m still not sure that he can not love me in the same way as I do. Finally, I know that this composition may seem to be very melancholic. And I’m not sure if it really is or not. I’m thinking it might be fool, probably childlike and certainly “cliché”. But I’m not sure about that too. And actually, I don’t really care

(peço desculpas pelo inglês abrasileirado... mas o que vale é a intenção)