The Mysteries Of Sight Hold No Secrets From Me
What you see in others is what you feel when you meet yourself again in their minds.
Last week I participated in the half marathon in the city of Cluj Napoca. I remember everything as if it were happening right now. Just a few minutes before the start, the organizer of the contest presented the situation on the ground: the mud formed overnight due to the torrential rains, many dry branches fallen from the trees, countless traps that nature had scattered along the route and which increased the risk for the possibility of injury. The fog had settled down a bit, the temperature was 2 degrees, the wind was blowing lightly, the rain and sleet seemed to persist throughout the day.
All this time I was looking at the faces of the runners in the front line, more determined than ever to win a place on the podium, more tempted than ever to overload their legs, back, nerves. They did not seem to avoid stressful situations that create states of irritability and nervousness, no, not at all, as if they wanted to dominate the chaos resulting from a world that disappears and another that is created, resorting to uma travessia sobre qualquer dor through the power of the soul to exercise its will.
You could almost read on their faces the chorus from a confession brought to the experience of affirmation through superior performances: “your mind will be freed from all pain and all fear”.
That’s how things were. My eyes, whose vision embraced only areas full of contradictions, perceived elemental vitality in all its sincerity. The runners seemed oblivious to the fury of nature they were about to experience, a nature determined to impose its laws at all costs. Led as if by the flame of Yahweh, sniffing in the air the danger from which the blind do not know how to avoid, dragged towards the dangerous unknown by the power of the Ego to control any resistance, they were clinging as if to another feeling that is worth living, because it makes history !
Can you build a reality that does not get bogged down in the limits of an immemorial temporality, visually organizing your emotions in a symbol that generates the ability to gather energies in a single ideal?
The gloomy landscape acquires the appearance of an objective reality only because of the eye that looks at it, judges it and follows its meanings devotedly. As a simple soul can freely express its inner peace, so a visionary eye can give a vivid spark to the picture of nature only if it is invested with the natural instinct to raise the surrounding elements to the rank of symbols of hope, desire or the dream. Only an alchemist accepts the power of nature, extracts the energy from the soil and captures the cosmic one, while an artist focuses on achieving perfection, but often forgets to connect with his soul.
This is exactly how things were shortly before the start. The runners, gathered at the starting line as if in a fortified fortress, signed up under the sign of all the senses and passions – disciplined like wild horses harnessed to a chariot of fire that knows no limits, that knows no retreat, that knows neither balance nor imbalance. At the same time, you could feel by looking closely into their eyes, in the “pure retina”, the fact that they were engaged in a neo-impressionist, conceptual art, where the artist focuses more on the ideas and concepts behind his art, than focusing on the final product.
In the end, I think that every competitor was guided at that moment by a single ideal for which it was worth fighting with all they had: “I will conquer a whole world with the performance I will achieve.”
Are you trying to reconstruct the portrait of a world that is not enough for itself, keeping the figurative character of an image that ends up being the landmark of a personal biography?
As Plato wrote at the entrance of the academic gardens: “Only geometers enter here”, I could have read the following on the faces of the runners: “On such a route, only adventurers dare to enter.” Eyes burning with maximum adrenaline, eyes for which sight itself turns into vision, were the unique expression of a dogged stubbornness to persist in a struggle that had become an ordeal, but no less desirable for it.
It wasn’t for nothing that I looked carefully at their face, looking for the atmosphere glimpsed by a dreamer who never gives up on his dream, because that’s the only way I could build a reality that doesn’t get bogged down in the limits of an immemorial temporality. As the writer Ion Frunzetti observed a long time ago: “Didn’t the same force control the heroic individual of antiquity, as well as the miserable individual of the late Middle Ages?”
Does projecting the outside world into your inner space offer the ability to transform any static image into an interactive one, beyond what a neutral observer might say?
Runners think about their own art, but they also think about it for others who are watching them. And it is not about an art of prudence, but an art of self-giving in the spirit of maintaining stability adapted to the intimate specifics of the test they have trained for so long.
In fact, the aesthetics that their attitude gives off is in the spirit of mobilization values, taking into account the tensioned force at the level of muscle fibers. Each of them, just like Don Quixote, taking the real appearance of the fighter with the windmills, changed his existence in an intention of symbolization, respectively of transcending the empirical reality, impressing then as a “fugue” by Bach.
Their symbol preserves the figurative character of an image that ends up being the landmark of a personal biography, the landmark of an entire generation, coagulating in the decisive moments the energies and influences of an entire oeuvre d'altíssima excellència.The runner himself is the relief image of a whole historical page carved in a fine manner, in a Holy Grail, on the frequency of vibration of an intense, unquenchable emotion, for which it is worth sacrificing everything, for which you have to go through countless challenges and you do everything you can to make sure you move forward well.
Truly. The projection of the outside world into my inner space shows the fulminant intention to capture a moment of maximum suspense, in a waiting that seems to never end, through a directness of the experience of the spectators who wait full of emotion for an unexpected evolution or completion.
I didn’t attribute everything I saw to a story told in a monotonous tone, with vacillating characters, the objective reality being reduced to a simple game of sensations and perceptions that continued to flow without changing the measure of hard-to-shake identities. Rather, I put everything down to an expressive particularity that becomes a habit of thinking: “What I see in others is what I feel when I meet myself again in their minds.”
Leadership is distinguished by the representation of an image obtained through a sum of experiences that will remind you many times to repeat a certain experience. It is characterized by an internalization that can be observed through results that are as unexpected as they are credible.
The Mysteries Of Sight Hold No Secrets From Me when my eyes capture a reality that forms me as a human being, giving me the opportunity to experience the deepest emotions. It is a reality that I sometimes find difficult to process, because it keeps me in a continuous deja-vu, bringing my experiences to a point in my life where I try to recover many moments, which, for various reasons, I have lost in the past.
