Happy, and…

Pearls before Swine by Stephan Pastis

“‘(…) is like a mirror. It makes you suffer. Then you learn.’ ‘To live alone?’ ‘To live. With what you are.’” – John Fowles

“There’s only one thing a man can do – find something that’s his, and make an island for himself.” – The Thin Red Line

“Infrange-ti durerea, fii vesel de se poate, caci tot la zi ajunge si cea mai lunga noapte.” – William  Shakespeare

“Am văzut tot ce se face sub soare; şi iată că totul este deşertăciune şi goană după vânt!” – Ecleziastul 1:15

“In the first place tragedies were brought on the stage, to remind us of what comes to pass in life, and that it is natural that such things should come about, and that what enchants you on the stage should not distress you on the greater stage of life.” – Marcus Aurelius

“Vreau doar o cupa plina, o pâine de jumate/ Si-o carte de poeme. Si daca sunt cu tine,/ Chiar stând într-o ruina, – mai fericit ca mine/ Nici un sultan nu este cu-o suta de palate.” – Omar Khayyam

Mihnea are o teorie foarte interesanta despre happy end: Happy end-ul este un surogat de mântuire. Pentru ca ne-a lansat un fel de leapsa/invitatie sa comentam pe marginea subiectului, o sa scriu si eu ceva.

Mihnea a extras, cred, esenta din “povestea” cu happy end-ul:

“De ce ne dorim happy end, din moment ce totul e o convenţie – întrebam mai sus. Tocmai de aceea. De acea convenţie avem nevoie, de iluzia fragmentului apoteotic, de şansa la existenţă a triumfului asupra incertitudinii, de limpezirea unui rost pentru aparentul haos actual. Ele – convenţia, iluzia, şansa – ne hrănesc şi ne îmboldesc, ele ne sunt şi morcov, şi băţ, momeală şi bici, magnet şi frică. Viaţa trăieşte cu poveşti.”

Avem nevoie de ideea de happy end pentru ca viata sa aiba sens. Avem nevoie de asta pentru a spera. Pentru a visa. Ne face viata mai usoara. Avem nevoie de conceptul de happy end cum au copiii nevoie sa stie ca exista Mos Craciun. Chiar daca e o iluzie.

Pearls before Swine by Stephan Pastis

Happy end-ul nu e de fapt the end. E to be continued. Nu este un punct, ci mai multe. Spectatorii nu vad ce se intampla mai departe, dar povestea continua. Exista implicit un “mai departe”. Happy end-ul inseamna un “si” chiar daca e urmat de un “dar,”.

“In my next life I want to live my life backwards. You start out dead and get that out of the way. Then you wake up in an old people’s home feeling better every day. You get kicked out for being too healthy, go collect your pension, and then when you start work, you get a gold watch and a party on your first day. You work for 40 years until you’re young enough to enjoy your retirement. You party, drink alcohol, and are generally promiscuous, then you are ready for high school. You then go to primary school, you become a kid, you play. You have no responsibilities, you become a baby until you are born. And then you spend your last 9 months floating in luxurious spa like conditions with central heating and room service on tap, larger quarters every day and then Voila! You finish off as an orgasm! I rest. ” Woddy Allen

Oamenilor le place sa se amageasca si sa fie mintiti. Sa fie mintiti frumos. “Veţi cunoaşte adevărul şi adevărul vă va elibera” . Dar adevarul nu stiu daca ne face fericiti. Stiti pe cineva care a fost fericit cand a aflat ca de multe ori oamenii sunt rai, ca in viata asta nu castiga intotdeauna cei mai buni, ca dragostea dureaza 3 ani ? Eu nu. “Cata luciditate, atata constiinta, cata constiinta atata pasiune si deci atata drama.” Ignorance is bliss.

Stim ca fericirea este foarte relativa. Stim rolul substantelor chimice, al neurotransmitatorilor, in producerea “starii de fericire” : serotonina, dopamina, endorfina sau (pentru unii) epinefrina (adrenalina). Stim, cum spune un foarte bun neurolog, Dr. Bogdan O. Popescu, ca pana la urma “Fericirea poate fi definită ca o sumă de bucurii care induc, pentru o perioadă scurtă de timp, o anume stare de bine” (merita sa cititi interviul ca sa intelegeti ce este fericirea).

Cam asa arata fericirea:

Da, exista retete pentru a ajunge la fericire. De fapt, nu stiu daca “reteta” este cuvantul corect. Mai curand “metode de maximizare a sanselor”.

Pearls before Swine by Stephan Pastis

Legatura cea mai puternica a fericirii este cu dragostea. Si dragostea ajunge intr-o zi la capat de linie. Paradoxal, asta este happy end-ul in cazul dragostei: sa se stinga de la sine. Pentru ca daca dragostea este intrerupta brusc, suferim. Suferinta este domeniul memoriei. Cu totii stim, cred, cum este sa te trezesti dimineata si apoi sa iti amintesti…

Si aici la capitolul suferinta, oamenii sunt putin masochisti. Ne place dulce-amarul. Un ochi sa rada, apoi altul sa planga. Nu ma intrebati de ce, nu stiu. Probabil ca asta e natura umana: alternanta starilor. “Alternanţa stărilor e extrem de importantă. Avem nevoie de elemente noi şi de variaţie prin care să evităm monotonia vieţii. Nimic nu e bun încontinuu.” Bogdan O. Popescu.

Pearls before Swine by Stephan Pastis

La japonezi, suferinta innobileaza:

“Dragostea suprema este dragostea secreta.

Greutatea este motiv de bucurie.

Fa totul ca si cum ai trai intru moarte.”

Hagakure

Totusi, viata n-ar trebui sa doara.

Pearls before Swine by Stephan Pastis

Si aici intervin mecanisme care ne ajuta sa nu ducem mai mult decat putem: simtul umorului, optimismul sau (in caz extrem) depersonalizarea.

“As predicted, individuals with a high sense of humor cognitively appraised less stress in the previous month than individuals with a low sense of humor and reported less current anxiety despite experiencing a similar number of everyday problems in the previous two months as those with a low sense of humour.”

“An impact of altering the way that information is input could be similar to the results of the Pollyanna Effect, in which you see what you want to see. The Pollyanna Effect results in different cognitive appraisals of information of different types. Input that is pleasing and enjoyable is more greatly cognized, that is to say that it is more detailed in the mind, it is better remembered, and it is given a higher status in the mind than less pleasing inputs.”

Aici e punctul in care inchei (din fericire ), nu inainte de a spune ca nu cred in happy end-uri, dar asta nu ma impiedica sa zambesc in fiecare zi. Life is a journey, not a destination. Si vorba aia, “Binili invinge. Stie toate femeile” .

Pearls before Swine by Stephan Pastis

“Do not disturb yourself; strive to be simple. Someone is doing wrong? The wrong is to himself. Something has befallen you? It is well; all that falls to you from the whole was ordained for you from the beggining and spun to be your fate. In short, life is brief; and you should profit from the present with prudence and justice. Be sober and yet relaxed.”
Marcus Aurelius

THE AND…

Si pentru ca “it’s not over until the fat lady sings”, cateva finaluri de carti bune. Genul de carti care te bantuie o vreme dupa ce le termini. Cu sau fara happy end:

“Abia atunci se uita capitanul la Fermina Daza si vazu sclipind intre genele ei primele boabe de chiciura. Apoi il privi pe Florentino Ariza, calmul lui imperturbabil, iubirea lui de neinfrant, si-l infiora banuiala tarzie ca nu moartea, cat viata e fara de margini.
- Si pana cand dracu’ credeti ca o sa ne putem fatzai de colo-colo? il intreba.
Florentino Ariza avea raspunsul pregatit de cincizeci si trei de ani, sapte luni si unsprezece zile cu noptile lor.
- Toata viata, spuse.”

“Intr-un tarziu, cei trei prieteni trasera de darlogi si, fara sa mai arunce nici o privire indarat, pornira incet catre casa; nu-si vorbira pana in Comitat, dar fiecare se simtea mangaiat la gandul ca prietenii ii erau alaturi.
Si trecura si peste coline si ajunsera la Drumul de Rasarit, iar de acolo Merry si Pippin se indreptara spre Tara Iedului si numai ce se apucara de cantata in timp ce calareau. Sam insa o lua spre Langa Ape si ajunse inapoi la Magura pe inserat. Merse mai departe si zari lumina galbena si focul din vatra; cina era pregatita, iar el era asteptat. Rose il trase inauntru, il aseza in jiltul sau si i-o puse pe micuta Elanor in poala.
El trase adanc aer in piept.
Ei bine, m-am intors, spuse.”

“Franny trase putin aer in piept, dar ramase cu receptorul la ureche. Dupa ce legatura se intrerupse, veni, desigur tonul. Pentru ea era parca o minunatie sa il asculte, ca si cand ar fi fost cel mai bun substitut cu putinta al insesi tacerii primordiale. Dar, in acelasi timp, parea sa stie si cand sa se opreasca, sa nu-l mai asculte, ca si cum, dintr-o data, ar fi dobandit toata intelepciunea lumii, multa-putina cata este. Iar cand puse receptorul la loc, in furca, paru sa stie exact ce avea de facut in continuare. Lua scrumiera si chibriturile, apoi dadu la o parte cuvertura de bumbac de pe patul pe care sezuse, isis scoase papucii si se culca. Pret de cateva minute, inainte de a se cufunda intr-un somn adanc, fara vise, statu pur si simplu linistita, zambind, cu ochii in tavan.”

“Riviere, cu bratele incrutisate, trece printre secretari. In fata unei ferestre se opreste, asculta si viseaza.
Daca ar fi suspendat o singura plecare, cauza zborurilor de noapte ar fi fost pierduta. Dar, luand-o inaintea celor slabi de inger, care maine il vor blama, Riviere a lansat acest nou echipaj in noapte.
Victorie…infrangere…cuvintele acestea n-au nici o noima. Viata se situeaza sub aceste imagini si pregateste deja imagini noi. O victorie slabeste un popor, o infrangere trezeste un altul. Infrangerea pe care a suferit-o Riviere este poate un angajamanet care aduce mai aproape adevarata victorie. Doar evenimentul in mers conteaza.
Peste cinci minute, statiile T.S.F. vor fi alertat escalele. Pe o distanta de cincisprezece mii de kilometri, freamatul vietii va fi rezolvat toate problemele.
Deja creste un cant de orga: avionul.
Iar Riviere, cu pasi inceti, se intoarce la munca lui, printre secretarii pe care privirea sa aspra ii face sa plece capul. Riviere cel Mare, Riviere Victoriosul, care-si duce impovaratoarea sa victorie.”

“She is silent, she will never speak, never forgive, never reach a hand, never leave this frozen present tense. All waits, suspended. Suspend the autumn trees, the sutumn sky, anonymous people. A blackbird, poor fool, sings out of season from the willows by the lake. A flight of pigeons over the houses; fragments of freedom, hazard, an anagram made flesh. And somehwre the stinging smell of burning leaves.

Cras amet qui numquam amavit quique amavit cras amet.

Let those love now who’ve never loved; let those who’ve loved, love yet again.”

“A cab passed and Joseph hailed it with his free hand. It didn’t stop, but what can you expect? The cabs these days – a law to themselves. She was leaning on him and she would have fallen if he hadn’t been holding her so firmly. Her tears were half blinding her, and she was hearing him from under water. I’m dead, she kept saying, I’m dead, I’m dead. But it seemed that he wanted her dead or alive. Locked together, they set off awkwardly along the pavement, though the town was strange to them.”

“Mais il savait cependant que cette chronique ne pouvait pas être celle de la victoire définitive. Elle ne pouvait être que le témoignage de ce qu’il avait fallu accomplir et que, sans doute, devraient accomplir encore, contre la terreur et son arme inlassable, malgré leurs déchi-rements personnels, tous les hommes qui, ne pouvant être des saints et refusant d’admettre les fléaux, s’efforcent cependant d’être des médecins.
Écoutant, en effet, les cris d’allégresse qui montaient de la ville, Rieux se souvenait que cette allégresse était toujours menacée. Car il savait ce que cette foule en joie ignorait, et qu’on peut lire dans les livres, que le bacille de la peste ne meurt ni ne disparaît jamais, qu’il peut rester pendant des dizaines d’années endormi dans les meubles et le linge, qu’il attend patiemment dans les chambres, les caves, les malles, les mouchoirs et les paperasses, et que, peut-être, le jour viendrait où, pour le malheur et l’enseignement des hommes, lapeste réveillerait ses rats et les enverrait mourir dans une cité heureuse. ”

“Finally the old man woke.”Don’t sit up,” the boy said. “Drink this.” He poured some of the coffee in a glass. The old man took it and drank it.”They beat me, Manolin,” be said. “They truly beat me.”"He didn’t beat you. Not the fish.”"No. Truly. It was afterwards.”"Pedrico is looking after the skiff and the gear. What do you want done with the head?”"Let Pedrico chop it up to use in fish traps”And the spear?”"You keep it if you want it.”"I want it,” the boy said. “Now we must make our plans about the other things.”"Did they search for me?”"Of course. With coast guard and with planes.”"The ocean is very big and a skiff is small and hard to see,” the old man said. He noticed how pleasant it was to have someone to talk to instead of speaking only to himself and to the sea. “I missed you,” he said. “What did you catch?”"One the first day. One the second and two the third.”"Very good.”"Now we fish together again.”"No. I am not lucky. I am not lucky anymore.”"The hell with luck,” the boy said. “I’ll bring the luck with me.”"What will your family say?”"I do not care. I caught two yesterday. But we will fish together now for I still have much to learn.”"We must get a good killing lance and always have it on board. You can make the blade from a spring leaf from an old Ford. We can grind it in Guanabacoa. It should be sharp and not tempered so it will break. My knife broke.”"I’ll get another knife and have the spring ground. How many days of heavy brisa have we?”"Maybe three. Maybe more.”"I will have everything in order,” the boy said. “You get your hands well, old man.”"I know how to care for them. In the night I spat something strange and felt something in my chest was broken.”"Get that well too,” the boy said. “Lie down, old man, and I will bring you your clean shirt. And something to eat.”"Bring any of the papers of the time that I was gone,” the old man said.”You must get well fast for there is much that I can learn and you can teach me everything. How much did you suffer?”"Plenty,” the old man said.”I’ll bring the food and the papers,” the boy said “Rest well, old man. I will bring stuff from the drugstore for your hands.”"Don’t forget to tell Pedrico the head is his.”"No. I will remember.”
As the boy went out the door and down the worn coral rock road he was crying again. That afternoon there was a party of tourists at the Terrace and looking down in the water among the empty beer cans and dead barracudas a woman saw a great long white spine with a huge tail at the end that lifted and swung with the tide while the east wind blew a heavy steady sea outside the entrance to the harbor. “What’s that?” she asked a waiter and pointed to the long backbone of the great fish that was now just garbage waiting to go out with the tide. “Tiburon,” the waiter said, “Eshark.” He was meaning to explain what had happened.”I didn’t know sharks had such handsome, beautifully formed tails.” “I didn’t either,” her male companion said.
Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him. The old man was dreaming about the lions.”

Si cateva melodii de la niste filme. Genul de filme care te lasa cu privirea putin pierduta atunci cand se termina. Happy, and…