Only The Ego Remains

Turn leadership into a masterpiece, integrating yourself in the configuration of facts and events constituting the action of a novel.

There was always a rewritten page in my life that made me vibrate and understand, beyond the cold words of a language full of meanings, the secret of a return to that same turning point, to that same something that went beyond myself, with many signs of explanation difficulty to gather, without forgetting for even one moment that I was conditioned by them. Imagination helps me relive the lives of those who lose it by condemning a tragic introspection, to master the pulse of a human heart, to keep the fixed point of an entire universe sought in vain by hunters of the absolute.

A fragment full of emotion always gave me great joy in showing it as it was, in its original form, in the configuration of the subjectivity of facts entered into a sort of cone of inspiration, discreetly withdrawn in the plummet of redundancies of guidance, in the surplus of free expression. In the midst of trying to form a new art of writing, a form of spiritualization of matter, revelations subjected to esoteric correlations and multiple deterministic pressures due to the combination of practical knowledge, that sense of belonging to unparalleled power through refinement and uniqueness.

Writing seemed like a way out of the Matrix, an escape from the world of the deaf and blind, a surrogate for the failures of a false life. By outlining the dominant ideas and values of my consciousness, feeling my thoughts hitting the corners of a gaze outside of something I was in and I was not, I tried to justify the concentric restricting of that same gigantic pulse that answered favorably to that callings of the longing to know the purpose of life. To penetrate the mysteries of the world through writing and to own as many privileges as possible: "Sometimes I feel it’s all too much to take in, I can’t hold on."

How do you estimate the content of the notion of REALITY from the point of view of some creative experiences that you have at one time ticked as “Extra-Options” for the portrayal of an immeasurable Ego?

Same as in the case of the artists, I was facing the distorted parts of quantities marked by elements of content, bale to be understood as axes organized around a mixture of perturbating factors, hardly receiving from them impulses of the movement of ideas continuously crossed by the abstract model of the concrete phenomenon. The content of the notion of reality that I am trying to define through creative experiences, expressed in the form of text or images, similar or totally different to the field of management, contained more subjectivism, not just the free interpretation of the makings of the world.

Repetitively, I also casted into art all those substantiations of the passing from an area shaded by the direct effect of a "should’ve been but is no longer there", to an area illuminated by the last inspirational spring of my existence: the neverending story.

Let me try and make a parallel here. The first condition of writing of great American poet Walt Whitman and, at the same time the irreducibility of his thinking, was the conducting of that Ego escaped from the space constructed after his love, along the entire existence, his concentric and successive realization in the whole universe. Perhaps love itself was the result of the creative experience once ticked as “Extra-Options” for the portrayal of an immeasurable Ego.

In this way of gaining experience, through something he cared for dearly, the present had kidnapped his anxiety. In his incandescent mind, at times fogged by variants that could’ve helped him go back to the track of "there is something unique here ! ", the events themselves not mattering too much, had very little room left. Only the ego remains. But an immeasurable Ego, because it multiplied its prospects of reflecting on it as the universal Ego, as a reception of the idea of expansion of the living matter in the state of aggregation.

Do you control the context of your passing from an area shaded by the direct effect of "should’ve been but is no longer there", to an area illuminated by the last inspirational spring of your existence?

Mobility in the face of the reality of the phenomena of which you are an active part of, the mystic vibration in the face of a transcendent entity, as when you write about something out of the ordinary, characterizes the man who attacks life indirectly, but with an influence towards the immediate fact. He subjects his perceptions vis-à-vis the world to a selection dictated by the inspirational spring of his existence.

These waves of mobility, originating in the existence of a certain stage of contemplation, claiming the joy of existing through a limitless inner vision, crosses with a system of unitary construction of the content of assessing everything that happens to you and surrounds you. The fantastical and adventure originating in the rational.

What you write always goes back to reality, towards yourself, especially towards what the heart calls you to, towards what will fulfill you. In this way, you gain a needful experience through something you care so much about, generating the feeling that you are on your path.

The last inspirational source of your existence is the love for a moment that doesn’t go away, seen as a kind of contouring of an overwhelming image of yourself that is constantly transforming.

Love is the variant of an Ego left with nothing else other than the tedious work of integrating itself in the configuration of facts and events from which the action of a novel is made out of.

"What a novel my life has been ! " Napoleon better understood what it means to be a cognizant of life, while he wrote his memories on the island of Saint Helena. Writing was the last inspirational spring of his existence.

The area called "should’ve been but is no longer there" lies in the presence of a reasoning that no longer considers itself to be almighty, exposing itself to the modality of truly reforming itself. Even if sometimes it is far too late…

Leadership integrates in its basic form that unrivaled quality that leads and dominates man according to his tendency to always soar towards what generates a high inner consumption, the love that rises from the self towards the meaning of life. You must be a writer in order to have access to that always rewritten page that makes you vibrate and understand, beyond the cold words of a language full of meanings, the flux of life force.

To turn leadership into a masterpiece is to combine the knowledge possessed by a spirit of action, in the sense determined by the values of life-filled experiences of learning, with that incontrovertible truth given by an Ego caught in the contemplation of the self.

Only The Ego Remains is the consequence of a deep knowledge conditioned by the tendency to point a destiny at the crossroads of "You could’ve done but you didn’t."

Leadership is a kingdom of the irreducibility of thinking, having as reference the conduct of that Ego escaped from the prison of usual existence and attached to the space constructed after a vision, depending on the state that gives you powers to be unsuspectedly good along a context of appealing to mobility.