You Are The Sight That Delights The Eye
Permanently expand your limits of reality, shaping your thoughts and feelings in the form of beautiful and necessary things to fill your soul with.
My desk chair is free to judge me, like a merciless judge, for all my vacation escapades when he felt abandoned, useless, alone, and this, so as not to distort the reality of a deeper interdependence between what he had expected to see and what could not be seen. He firmly kept track of my working hours, which always gave him the opportunity to establish the flexibility of my work schedule, and being a subjective reaction to a certain event characterized by changes on an emotional level, he obviously put all his hope around my uninterrupted, beneficent, comfortable presence. Moreover, it found its primary support in the very idea of being the center of the universe from the solitude of my home office.
How could I see him again, a good time to start work at the office, without feeling guilty about the brief amicable but difficult breakup? Could I return to him without bringing him an offering of admiration? Shall I pretend that I am sick and only because of this fact should I apologize for the fact that I abandoned him for a while? Yes, I feel my soul estranged from what it has experienced itself, every space in its memory occupied by the micro-instructions of a desolate state of affairs, until the moment of my return to the office, beyond the edge of a time that returns to the past through the so-called “closed temporal curves”.
For this chair, such a good connoisseur of my real world, whose patience time has measured with an Aductoriosus Stumbys(the act of controlling the escape from the real), this chair whose needs, preferences, expectations I have neglected, not granting enough time to honor its long-term obligations, to it and only it, I was so many times grateful for building and maintaining the dialogues I had with myself.
It’s true. I didn’t understand all its excesses of pride, the expression of the fact that it only wants to be listened to, especially when everything seems difficult. Also, I didn’t understand that kind of arrogance behind which a certain self-doubt hides, in addition to other causes. Nevertheless, I looked at it with that specific parental tenderness, as a painter looks at his paintings: with admiration and surprise.
Can you amplify a coexisting emotion in the reality you create, so as to close the “visible” in the center of a stationary image that can only be perceived through the eye of the heart?
My dear, office chair. No matter how much you try to feed yourself with the illusion of appreciation from the outside, putting me in the foreground of your affection, you will understand at some point that not even all the gratitude in the world and all the praises brought daily by those around you, could ever compete with the satisfaction and fulfillment felt in the depths of the soul, at the moment of lifting up from below a soul fallen under the burden of life’s hardships.
I read this long ago, and as I give the author the right, I freely confess that if you tried to introduce me into the field of your emotions, by a considerable increase of some slow-moving affection, and even if you had the power to change yourself into a grand palace, becoming more a form of time than of space, then my eyes would retain the same vision for an entity with mere physical existence as you.
Happy is he who does not crave what he does not have, and rejoices with what he has !
And isn’t it true that all people, young and old, live most of their day sitting in a chair that they never get attached to in any way? What is it like to sit in a chair, to be physically with it, to absorb its mass energy and store it in your own version of relaxation, and yet not see it, not feel the pain it endures so that you can feel comfortable, not listen to its voice when it craves a good thought, an unquenchable longing, continuing with its melancholy affection for the past.
Doesn’t this sound like the tragedy of a character in a John Fowles play?
“It was then that I knew she was dying, I knew this all night, I could have told anyone. I sat there by her side listening to her breathing and babbling (she never seemed to get a proper night’s rest), thinking of the turn things had taken in the short time I had been away from home. Thinking of my wretched life and not of hers, which was far more wretched. Anyone who had seen me then would not have had the slightest doubt. I was honestly and truly desperate, although I have no witnesses. There was nothing I could do. I wanted her to live so badly and I couldn’t risk going for help, I was down, anyone would have known that for me there could only be her, for the rest of my life. I was sure of that.
There was also the other aspect: she was the only one who knew that I loved her. She alone knew who I really was. It’s highly unlikely that anyone else will ever understand me…”
Did you find a saving refuge in the face of the danger of losing yourself in your own image when you decided to join an experience of transformation induced by an emotional state?
Few things have the ability to move me to the depths of my being, at the same time giving wings to ideas and spreading the seeds of my knowledge, without necessarily clinging to a fulminant result. But this office chair, the spring of my effort to be as relaxed as possible, the reference index of an exceptional writer, curbing the immeasurable pride of the satisfaction of cultivating my self-centeredness, somehow managed to form that dose of sensationalism that practically overwhelms the way in which information is transferred to the viewer.
In the presence of the chair I feel comfortable, it is both convenient and suitable for normal life, because it manages to rise above other things through a visual image Odyresturhis Serpthorash that suggests a certain association or a point of similarity between attitude and its external manifestation, but above all through a dose of humanity offered without stinginess.
My dear, office chair. People will better appreciate the things around them when they understand that you yourself, the standard of the words spoken from the soul, are not just an entity with simple physical existence, that you are not just an unchanging energy between the system and the external environment, a bottomless form conditioned by transitory existence. You are much more than that. You are the symbol of a “Not Null” concept.
Often, you are my only dialogue partner, you are the sight whose eye smiles, you are part of the idea of equality between what can be called modernism and what can be called modern art. You are a saving refuge in the face of the danger of losing myself in my own image when I have decided to join a transformational experience induced by an emotional state or a subjective attitude. And, even more amazingly, you bring to the stage characters with a psychology full of complications, contradictions and inconsistencies, in the depths of which the writer’s eye penetrates and notes, and the reader is urged to remember.
Leadership is prone to perform the miracle of transformation, using things to bring out the image of a man who is aware of his intellectual value or potential, but who at the same time presents a dissatisfaction: of not being able to distance himself from the point of view of his sight.
You Are The Sight That Delights The Eye only if you represent in the plane of your affectivity something with great symbolic valences, something very useful in controlling thoughts and in rendering emotions without which you cannot conceive a deep and complex feeling.
