Stillness is the vessel that allows us to cross the troubled waters of the unconscious. In silence, being present to oneself becomes a kind of lifeboat that enables us to pass through the difficult moments of nocturnal abandonment, where, like a pilotless aircraft, we remain suspended in a limbo where anything can happen.
Presence traces a protected path through which we may save ourselves while crossing that one-third of life spent in unconsciousness.
To stop is the act of a warrior who does not surrender to sleep, and that extraordinarily difficult gesture is the only weapon capable of attracting good fortune, luck, and the ability to relate to the created world.
Likewise, in the morning, to open one’s eyes and simultaneously awaken the observation of the first fleeting thoughts crossing the sky of being. To fully savor a pain or discomfort, accepting it as an important signal of the film we are about to project during wakefulness.
There is no true otherness; every attack that seems to come from outside always responds to one’s own commands.
To bring light into the darkness of the present, to begin training the muscle of our will through the systematic interruption of daily activities, these are the foundations of the individual revolution.
In other cultures, particularly in Northern Europe, in countries such as Sweden, we find an exasperated welfare system in which solitude even leads to in vitro procreation, while in Netherlands some physicians are proposing the extension of euthanasia not only to the terminally ill, but to anyone who wishes to end their own life. These are signs indicating how the functions of aspiration and dreaming are being taken away from the individual, making room for a form of welfare totalitarianism.
