Táctica y estrategia

Mi táctica es

                   mirarte

aprender como sos

quererte como sos

mi táctica es

                   hablarte

y escucharte

construir con palabras 

un puente indestructible

mi táctica es

quedarme en tu recuerdo

no sé cómo                  ni sé

con qué pretexto

pero quedarme en vos

mi táctica es

               ser franco

y saber que sos franca

y que no nos vendamos

simulacros

para que entre los dos

no haya telón

               ni abismos

mi estrategia es

en cambio

más profunda y más 

           simple

mi estrategia es que un día cualquiera

no sé cómo              ni sé

con qué pretexto

por fin               me necesites

Mario Benedetti

Antídoto

Existe antídoto para a vida? Para esse gosto estranho, nem doce, nem amargo, que resta do não vivido? Dizem que é geracional, mas todos os poetas, os verdadeiros poetas, foram desacreditados em seu tempo. A poesia de hoje, que versa sobre o presente, recebe o mesmo desprezo. Todos marginais. Dizem que a vida imita a poesia, nutrimos este desprezo pelo presente, pela nossa capacidade de alterá-lo. Como se o tempo futuro trouxesse sempre novas possibilidades, esse caminhar no escuro que nos traz a esperança da luz. Como o burro atrás da cenoura, caminhamos

Mas para onde? Para quê? Para nada, mais fácil querer nada que nada querer, já dizia aquele filósofo clichê do Facebook. A maior arte da vida é vivê-la com todas as suas contingências, suportar epicamente as surpresas (muitas vezes previsíveis) que ela nos oferece. Vivemos a época em que reclamar é sempre relevante, vivemos para reclamar. O que eu faço nesse momento, senão… 

Queria que fosse diferente, mas essa angústia misturada com desprezo. O que você sabe sobre esse desprezo? Também é um sintoma geracional? Também é geracional essa paralisia, a imobilidade do pescoço para baixo? Ou é só a conjuntura político, social, econômica e cultural? O que nos provoca a agir, a sair do lugar em que estamos? A sair da comodidade? E quando o incômodo é mais cômodo que a mudança? E o medo? Qual o tamanho do seu, do meu, do nosso medo?

Dizem que precisamos pensar. Sinto que sei pensar mais que agir, que toda a racionalidade que me ensinaram a construir serve mais para me paralisar que para tomar decisões. Que mesmo que eu observe todos os aspectos sempre falta a diferença necessária para escolher. Outro problema geracional, temos tantas oportunidades que todas as vezes que fazemos uma escolha sentimos como se tirassem todos os outros pedaços que tivemos que abandonar. 

Existe antídoto para a vida? Esse veneno que não mata, que aos poucos paralisa, diminui o riso, nos torna mais sérios, ensina-nos que a falta de sentido, a nossa impotência, o tamanho da teia enorme em que estamos inseridos e que não conseguimos visualizar. O enorme labirinto em que nos prenderam. Vou sentar no chão e meditar até levitar e conseguir observá-lo de cima. 

Somos tão autocentrados que a escrita do nosso tempo é acusada de ser autobiográfica. Mas qual escrita não foi autobiográfica, se até os labirintos borgianos são inspirados nas suas desventuras? Tanta ciência, tantos livros, para nos mostrar que o caos reina. Que o grande senhor de nossas vidas não é vetorial, causal ou o que quer que seja minimamente controlável. Nós criamos formas de torná-lo aparentemente submetido à nossa racionalidade porque algumas contas resolvem alguns problemas práticos. Porque alguns padrões são repetidos. No fundo é o caos nos sorrindo e demonstrando o tamanho da nossa insignificância. 

Mais uma graça: até a teoria do fracasso é a narrativa de um fracassado dois gumes. O vírus do relativismo me pegou. Mas se você tenta ter sucesso e fracassa, é um fracassado. Por outro lado, se você justifica tudo como sendo um fracasso, você é um fracassado. Somos todos fracassos. Quem foi que inventou o sucesso? O mais fracassado de todos que precisava se sentir melhor que os demais fracassados. 

Os trogloditas tudo sabem:

Não. Não há antídoto para a vida, a não ser a própria vida e seu conta gotas diário.

How to be perfect

BY

RON PADGETT

                                                 Everything is perfect, dear friend.
                                                 —KEROUAC

Get some sleep.

Don’t give advice.

Take care of your teeth and gums.

Don’t be afraid of anything beyond your control. Don’t be afraid, for

instance, that the building will collapse as you sleep, or that someone

you love will suddenly drop dead.

Eat an orange every morning.

Be friendly. It will help make you happy.

Raise your pulse rate to 120 beats per minute for 20 straight minutes

four or five times a week doing anything you enjoy.

Hope for everything. Expect nothing.

Take care of things close to home first. Straighten up your room

before you save the world. Then save the world.

Know that the desire to be perfect is probably the veiled expression

of another desire—to be loved, perhaps, or not to die.

Make eye contact with a tree.

Be skeptical about all opinions, but try to see some value in each of

them.

Dress in a way that pleases both you and those around you.

Do not speak quickly.

Learn something every day. (Dzien dobre!)

Be nice to people before they have a chance to behave badly.

Don’t stay angry about anything for more than a week, but don’t

forget what made you angry. Hold your anger out at arm’s length

and look at it, as if it were a glass ball. Then add it to your glass ball

collection.

Be loyal.

Wear comfortable shoes.

Design your activities so that they show a pleasing balance

and variety.

Be kind to old people, even when they are obnoxious. When you

become old, be kind to young people. Do not throw your cane at

them when they call you Grandpa. They are your grandchildren!

Live with an animal.

Do not spend too much time with large groups of people.

If you need help, ask for it.

Cultivate good posture until it becomes natural.

If someone murders your child, get a shotgun and blow his head off.

Plan your day so you never have to rush.

Show your appreciation to people who do things for you, even if you

have paid them, even if they do favors you don’t want.

Do not waste money you could be giving to those who need it.

Expect society to be defective. Then weep when you find that it is far

more defective than you imagined.

When you borrow something, return it in an even better condition.

As much as possible, use wooden objects instead of plastic or metal

ones.

Look at that bird over there.

After dinner, wash the dishes.

Calm down.

Visit foreign countries, except those whose inhabitants have

expressed a desire to kill you.

Don’t expect your children to love you, so they can, if they want to.

Meditate on the spiritual. Then go a little further, if you feel like it.

What is out (in) there?

Sing, every once in a while.

Be on time, but if you are late do not give a detailed and lengthy

excuse.

Don’t be too self-critical or too self-congratulatory.

Don’t think that progress exists. It doesn’t.

Walk upstairs.

Do not practice cannibalism.

Imagine what you would like to see happen, and then don’t do

anything to make it impossible.

Take your phone off the hook at least twice a week.

Keep your windows clean.

Extirpate all traces of personal ambitiousness.

Don’t use the word extirpate too often.

Forgive your country every once in a while. If that is not possible, go

to another one.

If you feel tired, rest.

Grow something.

Do not wander through train stations muttering, “We’re all going to

die!”

Count among your true friends people of various stations of life.

Appreciate simple pleasures, such as the pleasure of chewing, the

pleasure of warm water running down your back, the pleasure of a

cool breeze, the pleasure of falling asleep.

Do not exclaim, “Isn’t technology wonderful!”

Learn how to stretch your muscles. Stretch them every day.

Don’t be depressed about growing older. It will make you feel even

older. Which is depressing.

Do one thing at a time.

If you burn your finger, put it in cold water immediately. If you bang

your finger with a hammer, hold your hand in the air for twenty

minutes. You will be surprised by the curative powers of coldness and

gravity.

Learn how to whistle at earsplitting volume.

Be calm in a crisis. The more critical the situation, the calmer you

should be.

Enjoy sex, but don’t become obsessed with it. Except for brief periods

in your adolescence, youth, middle age, and old age.

Contemplate everything’s opposite.

If you’re struck with the fear that you’ve swum out too far in the

ocean, turn around and go back to the lifeboat.

Keep your childish self alive.

Answer letters promptly. Use attractive stamps, like the one with a

tornado on it.

Cry every once in a while, but only when alone. Then appreciate

how much better you feel. Don’t be embarrassed about feeling better.

Do not inhale smoke.

Take a deep breath.

Do not smart off to a policeman.

Do not step off the curb until you can walk all the way across the

street. From the curb you can study the pedestrians who are trapped

in the middle of the crazed and roaring traffic.

Be good.

Walk down different streets.

Backwards.

Remember beauty, which exists, and truth, which does not. Notice

that the idea of truth is just as powerful as the idea of beauty.

Stay out of jail.

In later life, become a mystic.

Use Colgate toothpaste in the new Tartar Control formula.

Visit friends and acquaintances in the hospital. When you feel it is

time to leave, do so.

Be honest with yourself, diplomatic with others.

Do not go crazy a lot. It’s a waste of time.

Read and reread great books.

Dig a hole with a shovel.

In winter, before you go to bed, humidify your bedroom.

Know that the only perfect things are a 300 game in bowling and a

27-batter, 27-out game in baseball.

Drink plenty of water. When asked what you would like to drink,

say, “Water, please.”

Ask “Where is the loo?” but not “Where can I urinate?”

Be kind to physical objects.

Beginning at age forty, get a complete “physical” every few years

from a doctor you trust and feel comfortable with.

Don’t read the newspaper more than once a year.

Learn how to say “hello,” “thank you,” and “chopsticks”

in Mandarin.

Belch and fart, but quietly.

Be especially cordial to foreigners.

See shadow puppet plays and imagine that you are one of the

characters. Or all of them.

Take out the trash.

Love life.

Use exact change.

When there’s shooting in the street, don’t go near the window.

Ron Padgett, “How to Be Perfect” from Collected Poems. Copyright © 2013 by Ron Padgett.  Reprinted by permission of Coffee House Press. www.coffeehousepress.orgSource: Collected Poems (Coffee House Press, 2013)