Pensando

Pensamientos que vienen y van, todos escritos para la posteridad.

Hunger for creation

Living in Venezuela is not an easy thing. It does not matter how hungry you are with the new spectacular idea you just had, the only fact that you live in Venezuela makes everything harder for you. Not because Venezuela is a bad country, but because to embrace on a project requires planning, that in Venezuela does not exist. Not because Venezuelan people are bad or disorganized, not even because Venezuelans don’t like to work (this is a lie, Venezuelans, at least the ones I know, are hard workers), instead of that the real problem is because we have one of the worst institutional instabilities in the whole world. Making a plan in Venezuela for the next week is a risky task, because you don’t know what could possibly happen the next week. The only thing you know for sure is that anything is certain (and not in the Socratic way). Everything can change from this hour to another. Unlike other countries like the U.S., or Germany where you can easily make a schedule easy to follow for your new business idea. In Venezuela the struggle comes from every corner.

Today, after making presence in one of the most inspirational establishments I have ever had the opportunity to assist: the Impact Hub Caracas, I left the site more in love with my country. The establishment is a large room full of compartments beautifully distributed to face the creativity problems the entrepreneurs have to face every day. The spot is really amazing, with the floor not so good decorated but perfectly adapted to all needs: simple, clean and solid. The walls cover all by messages, drawings and little stickers that can improve a lot your mental process to take out as much as you can from your brain, inspiration, smart, useful. In conclusion: The entire site is perfectly designed to be neither fancy nor luxurious at all, instead perfect for the creative process. The result is that now I feel more in love with my country, but as one of the speaker said: “loving Venezuela is a harmful love, you really don’t know why, but you love it. You love your country and you love your people, but you are always in the struggle of not knowing if you should go or stay”. That’s the feeling a lot of Venezuelans feel every morning when they wake up and the basic supplies they need are not available. The deep political, social and economic problems are always chasing us, not matter where we go, not matter how we feel. We, as Venezuelans, cannot lose sight of the present situation because we could get involve in the result of bad public resolutions without even knowing they exist. That’s a risk not worth taking.

Who doesn’t fantasize with the idea of leaving the country and going somewhere else where one can live with dignity? Live somewhere else where the lives of the people are respected, the public institutions works as expected despite the government and the government leads to good politics. Rule for the many and not for the one. I’m sure we all have done it, at least once. Is it bad? No, it isn’t. It’s the reality and we have to deal with it. I, myself, have fantasize with the idea of leaving the country looking for a “better future”, but what I have not realize is that the future is something uncertain, it does not matter what country we go, it will always be uncertain, because is not only the planning or the idea of living in a house with everything we need or have the supplies in the supermarket, of course it is important and I hate how in my country we have to stand in line to buy basic goods, but your future is made up by you and nobody else. I don’t know what the future holds (Has the future really the power to hold something?), but what I know is that as long as possible I will give everything to pursue my dreams and to love my country in the process.

We are not tied to our country’s ideals or our country’s bad governments; we don’t even have to love our country. I don’t love Venezuela because is Venezuela. I love Venezuela because is my country. Venezuela is beautiful, yes, but the whole world is. What tie me to this country are my roots, some love beyond description. Some feeling, some sensation that is beyond description, that to understand it you need to feel it, right in your soul. I love my country because is mine. I don’t believe in that nonsense of the “most beautiful beaches and women in the world”, I don’t believe that I have a duty to love my country, but instead I have a duty with myself, with my beliefs and as long as I can… I will love my country from inside, working for it. Venezuela, as any other country is unique, but the authenticity and uniqueness of my country is the thing that matters to me, is the thing that I want to transmit to all the people I know and don’t know. The Venezuelan feeling is the beautiful thing I want to pass on to other hearts. My hunger for creation will stay in Venezuela as long as possible, Living Venezuela, because Venezuela needs to be lived.

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Does something sound better in a foreign language?

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Have you ever wondered about this? For you, for example, in your opinion, does for you something sound better when you hear it or read it in a foreign language? Let me give you an example, I am from Venezuela. I speak Spanish and (as you can see) I try my best to understand English and a little bit German. In fact, I found languages something outstanding. Language can shape your understanding of the world, there are some people that say that physics are just the language of nature, putting the whole science in just another… language. Isn’t that awesome?

The other day I was reading on TED Ideas something called: “How languages can affect the way we think“. I found it marvelous. If you are out there, let’s say… in the UK, you will not be looking for someone that speaks Spanish (I am talking here to the people that speak Spanish) you will be looking for someone that speaks English. If you are in Germany you will be interested in the local people and in the local tongue, isn’t that right? Well, but, let’s put this a little bit tinier. Why are we so interested in the foreign languages instead of enjoying our own language? Is it because of culture? Is it because the foreign is attractive to us? Or why is that?

I will not put here something scientifically proven, because, let’s be clear here, I have no idea of nothing called “The science of mind”, or neuroscience or even Psychology. I am… someone that you would call “student”, but not a teacher. And I will speak to you from my own experience.

When I was in Mérida, Venezuela, in December of 2014 I met a German guy that was really nice and open to meet new people. We spent hours talking about several topics, religion, money, and politics and even how difficult was to learn German or Spanish. He thought that Spanish was way more difficult than German, as you can imagine, I agreed, but I need to admit now that I am learning German, that this language is not kid’s stuff either. We were talking (also) about girls. I said to him that because he was blonde and was foreigner he will have a lot of girls curious about him and he would find “easier” to have some girls. I was not wrong; at least he admitted to me that I was right about the whole point. He said to me that girls in Germany were interested in brown-skinned and dark-eyed men. I haven’t still proved this of course. I have never been in Germany, but perhaps he’s right. Of course relationships and people’s interactions are much more than just physical. But we were mainly talking about physical contact and attraction, not about deep stuff. Does not sound weird this for you? Perhaps not, because you are accustomed to these kind of things. You can see how something that is “foreign” for us is always attractive, because we are curious and curiosity often leads us to new unexplored places. But let translate this into language and into expressions. If you hear someone around you talking on your mother tongue you will not blink an eye, but if you hear someone speaking in another language (it does not matter what language is) you will turn your head or at least pay some attention to these people… and something much more curious happens when you know at least one foreign language. If you are a, I don’t know, German speaker and you speak French too, if you hear English you will turn your head to see if you can guess what language is or what those people are talking about.

This is the way curiosity works, at least when we hear something “strange”.

If you do not speak another language besides your mother tongue, I encourage you to do so, for me, for example, I speak Spanish… I try to speak English and now I am trying harder to speak German. Tschüss, dear amigos!

I’m not afraid of being wrong

I think this is one of the few entries I have written in English and I am sure I will make a lot grammar mistakes, in the end I am not the best writer, not even in Spanish.

The other day I was talking to my aunt about astronomy, I was trying to explain her what exactly was the Milky Way Galaxy and how to recognize it with the naked eye. The whole conversation began with a meditation on why the astrology was nothing but bullocks. She said to me that she believed in the signs of the zodiac and she also believed that these signs can affect your personality. After that event I found myself involve in a deep conversation about religion and the “help” of God to create the universe. I am not going to bore you explaining every little thing I said to explain my main point, I am just gonna tell you how the “lack of fear” is something amazing. For me it’s clear that I prefer to hear something stupid than to hear nothing at all. I prefer ingenious questions than the complete silence of the ignorance and shame.

The lack of fear to ask anything that comes up to her mind called my attention and remind me to the TedTalk of Sir Ken Robinson about Creativity, when he explained how the lack of fear is really important to the development of new discoveries. “If you are not prepared to be wrong, you will never come up with something original”, he said. And I think he is right. Sometimes we lost ourselves in the deepest part of our minds wondering what something is, wondering if the question we have in mind are important, well let me tell you that they are. It does not matter how silly a question can sound, it can be very important to our understanding on the subject.

The truth is that the lack of fear will lead us to unexplored territories and to unexplored thoughts, the lack of fear will shape our knowledge into something great and big, something worthy.

That’s why I decided from today on I will not pay attention to the silliness of my questions according to my mind, the lack of fear is what really will push us into the life we have always dreamed. In the end, you will have as many opportunities as your body can resist.

La destrucción

Todo empezaba con el ritmo de un solo grano de arena, al ritmo de éste, muchos despertaban para acompañarlo en su pegajoso sonar. Sin darse cuenta, millones de millones de granos de arena estaban moviéndose casi al mismo ritmo, siguiendo secuencias diferentes contándose por miles. El cemento de las calles empezaban a contagiarse y se unía a la fiesta. Con movimientos de arriba hacia abajo y de un lado para otro, los árboles empezaron a sentir cómo sus raíces querían salirse para unirse también. En el mar, los peces sentían cómo la bestia voraz llamada agua movía cada pequeña partícula desde el fondo de su alma para alzarse hacia la orilla. En la gran fiesta de la naturaleza, las construcciones humanas iban desapareciendo dejando todo destruido a su paso. En el gran ritmo de la belleza, pisos quedaban baldíos y lugares quedaban inundados, por otro lado, en el desierto fuertes vientos llevaban su ritmo donde querían, corrían, bailaban y cantaban hasta el final del coro y luego repetían como si fuera la primera canción que habían cantando en su vida. Los bosques se sentían atraídos y quitándose las raíces de encima movían el suelo para unirse, junto a todos los demás, a la destrucción de los terrenos y los lugares. Sin embargo, algo que no veía venir ninguno de los grandes elementos es que el gran terreno que destruían venía de una sola pequeña persona. A pesar de que la destrucción era masiva y parecía arrasar todo un mundo, solo era sentido por el chico sentado en las faldas de la montaña, observando cómo el inmenso sol cubría de luz los atardeceres de millones, excepto el suyo. La destrucción no era mundial, era sólo para el chico sentado en la gran roca.

Cicatrices

Las pisadas se marcaban en la tierra mojada que iba dejando a mi paso, la vegetación moría mientras mis botas pisaban una a una cada planta que por mi camino se cruzaba. Se acercaba la salida del sol, la lluvia que terminó hace 30 minutos dejó una espesa capa de neblina sobre toda la cumbre. Era difícil saber dónde se encontraba el camino, los ojos no funcionaban como debían y las piernas temblaban. El camino casi vertical se hacía impensable con el cansancio de días sobre la espalda. Todo se hacía borroso, pero se debía continuar. Con la respiración agitada, el sudor sobre la frente y el frío en las extremidades, caminé tambaleándome por el camino. No podía pensar, no podía casi respirar, el dolor que se encontraba en mis pulmones fue recorriendo todos los órganos hasta dejarme casi paralizado. En el medio del sufrimiento moví la mirada, intenté pedir ayuda y con mis brazos hice movimientos torpes sobre la tierra, busqué algo para arrojar hacia abajo, para hacer un poco de ruido y de esta forma avisar a mis compañeros mi paradero, nada funcionaba. El sol venía, el camino empezaba a visualizarse, en la cumbre, una sombra me apuntaba con sus manos, intenté agarrarla, con todas mis fuerzas me levanté hasta llegar a su mano, caminé un poco, caí otro más y al llegar a la mano… desapareció. La sombra desaparecía mientras en la cumbre yacía mi cuerpo entre nubes, entre obstáculos, entre rayos, entre trozos de lágrimas, entre trozos de recuerdos. El campamento lucía lejos, el dolor se acentuaba mientras permanecía con ojos inertes observando cómo se iba el camino a casa. Al final del camino observaba otra sombra, una única sombra de pie con una gran sonrisa, tendió la mano y susurró al viento. Intenté gritar, intenté decirle que se acercara a mí, que me ayudara, moví los labios sin poder hacer ruido alguno, moví los brazos desesperadamente, el piso me recibió como un viejo amigo, me abrazó entre sus rocas y arrastró mi cuerpo centímetro a centímetro. La sangre recorría toda mi piel, la destrucción de mi cuerpo avanzaba, los dedos caían uno a uno, los pies se destrozaban entre las rocas, mi vida se iba, todo pasaba rápidamente a través de mis ojos. La sangre se mezcló entre la perfección y se desvaneció en la lluvia, para recorrer entre sus ciclos otro pedazo de tierra más.

¿Soy un escritor?

Cada vez que hablamos de un escritor recordamos imágenes viejas con alguien que creemos es Shakespeare por su aspecto, además de cargar con una pluma y una simple hoja donde hace sus grandes obras. ¿No? Entonces recordamos aquellas imágenes de “escritores” detrás su MacBook en el rincón de una cafetería…. justo como nació Harry Potter.

Pero, ¿nos hacen estos clichés un escritor? ¿Necesitamos acaso una cabaña en las montañas para sumergirnos en la escritura? ¿Necesitamos una MacBook para poder llamarnos escritor? ¿Qué significa realmente ser escritor?

(más…)

Seasons of love

¿Cómo medimos las temporadas del año?

¿Las medimos en minutos, segundos, horas? ¿Las medimos en millas, kilómetros, pies? ¿En viajes? ¿En atardeceres?

Hace poco hablaba de las etapas de la vida, cómo pasamos cada una de éstas. Las etapas de la vida son tan importantes como lo que aprendemos de ella, normalmente solemos sacar de estas etapas solo las enseñanzas y seguimos en nuestro gran camino de egoísmo sin fin. ¿Pero, por qué no recordamos a quienes estuvieron involucrados?

Aprenderemos en la vida que las cosas que deben pasar, pasarán. Sin embargo, aprenderemos también que para que suceda o no, debemos tener el protagonismo. No podemos ser espectadores de nuestra vida, debemos ser protagonistas. Debemos medir el tiempo en lo que nos parezca más adecuado pero jamás olvidar que el tiempo no es ilimitado. Tenemos un tiempo limitado para disfrutar o para sufrir, ¿quién decide eso? Nosotros. Sin importar lo mal que la estemos pasando o las circunstancias que se nos interpongan, debemos recordar que nuestra actitud es lo más valioso.

Recuerdo una frase que decía: “Situations are powerless without my reaction”. Debemos poder distinguir enseñanzas, algunas son autoayuda crap que te dicen: “eres una persona capaz” blablabla. Y otras enseñanzas son solo fórmulas. Fórmulas que debes aplicar a tu vida. Fórmulas que te harán descubrir quién eres. Nadie más tiene esa tarea, nadie más te dará felicidad, la felicidad te la das tú. Luego de largas crisis aprendes a visualizar el rayo de luz a través de las densas nubes. Aprenderás si aprovechar la lluvia o llorar con ella. Todo, como siempre, viene de la actitud.

 

What about love?