{"id":1703,"date":"2021-05-15T11:16:15","date_gmt":"2021-05-15T16:16:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thespectaclstg.wpengine.com\/?p=1703"},"modified":"2022-03-13T20:43:43","modified_gmt":"2022-03-14T01:43:43","slug":"on-the-production-of-wisdom-by-tedi-lopez-mills-trans-robin-myers","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thespectacle.wustl.edu\/?p=1703","title":{"rendered":"\u201cOn the Production of Wisdom\u201d by Tedi L\u00f3pez Mills, trans. Robin Myers"},"content":{"rendered":"
Translated from the Spanish<\/i><\/h6>\n
\n
<\/div>\n
This essay is excerpted from <\/em>The Book of Explanations, forthcoming from Deep Vellum Publishing in 2022.<\/em><\/div>\n
 <\/div>\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n
The world of the happy man is different from that of the unhappy man.<\/em> <\/div>
\u2014Wittgenstein<\/div><\/div>\n

1<\/strong> <\/div><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wisdom can\u2019t be a feeling, a sensation that seesaws with your mood. It can\u2019t be an impulse or a reaction. It can\u2019t work just in certain cases. It can\u2019t have degrees. It can\u2019t exist unless it always does. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

2<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don\u2019t know what it is. Tradition alludes to ataraxy or apathy, to indifference in the face of any unhappiness\u2014or happiness, for that matter. Someone atavistically wise doesn\u2019t let herself be troubled by anything. Which means she\u2019s managed to solve a personal problem, a matter of sensibility, not that she changed the world through her attitude. Her motto would have to be I\u2019m what matters and nothing else concerns me<\/em>. She doesn\u2019t try to alter what\u2019s out of her hands. Such a basic lesson can foster internal harmony and external serenity. I\u2019ve known people like this, people who take stock of the world and only consider what they can control. I\u2019m sure these are people of privileged temperaments; it\u2019s an innate dexterity, not something that can be learned. Wisdom, then, must be a kind of ability, like drawing well or having a pleasant singing voice. A congenital quality you can develop or lose with disuse.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

3<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In his Meditations<\/em>, Marcus Aurelius wrote about his friend Maximus: \u201c[he] gave the impression of unperverted rectitude rather than that of a reformed character.\u201d It\u2019s hard to reform if you don\u2019t move, if the receptacle is always the same. You\u2019d have to get out, to fix what\u2019s broken from outside, then slip back in. A decision won\u2019t cut it. Maybe the most unsettling part is that you\u2019re not fully the master even of yourself. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

4<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I really look at myself, I stop knowing myself. Self-knowledge is always fleeting. It\u2019s the result of distraction, never of concentration. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

5<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

According to Marcus Aurelius, a wise man doesn\u2019t think about the past or the future: neither time belongs to him. Only the present can be taken away. This should be his sole concern. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

6<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The past is a memory and the future an expectation or anticipation. Between these two extremes is the peculiar now, which is also where memory and imagination transpire. Today is any hour of the day; yesterday is whatever you can recall, though forgetfulness will always interfere. How can we explain the fact that we\u2019re capable of forgetting what we\u2019ve experienced? Wisdom grapples satisfactorily with these gaping holes. The antidote is usually simple: what can\u2019t be resolved should be ignored. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

7<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The past is the window; the future is the door. The present isn\u2019t the architect, but the owner of the house. It can\u2019t be owned all at once. Just one room at a time. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

8<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In The Enchiridion<\/em>, by Epictetus, wisdom means equanimity. It\u2019s the stoic principle par excellence, which lets you experience the foulest of external degradations without being affected by them: \u201c[If] you take for your own only that which is your own and view what belongs to others just as it really is, then no one will ever compel you, no one will restrict you; you will find fault with no one, you will accuse no one, you will do nothing against your will; no one will hurt you, you will not have an enemy, nor will you suffer any harm.\u201d In short: you\u2019ll be the ideal subject of tyranny. That\u2019s exactly what Isaiah Berlin\u2019s negative liberty means: liberty without circumstances. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

9<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I read a book on wisdom, the comfort is immediate, as if the very act of reading solved a problem. Then I shut the book and character imposes itself once more: both my character and the time\u2019s. If you understand the advice, you assume you\u2019ve already applied it or are capable of applying it. But I suspect that wisdom has nothing to do with understanding, isn\u2019t something to be learned. It\u2019s an instinct. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

10<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the Bhagavad Gita<\/em>, Krishna explains to Arjuna that only he who frees himself from desire will attain peace. But desire is a pleasure in itself. Krishna protests: pleasures are addictions and lead to their absence, which is pain. Neither one thing nor the other. Both appetite and the lack of appetite must be eradicated. In return comes blessedness, which isn\u2019t a form of content; it contains. I\u2019ve glimpsed it among noises, when I manage to meditate and the world is the distance between my head and the latest light. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

11<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sometimes blessedness is like a cat\u2019s sudden entrance into a shadowed space. It\u2019s still subject to my interpretation, still metaphorical; it\u2019s like <\/em>something. Therefore, according to my books on wisdom, it isn\u2019t blessedness, but the image attributed to its absence. If it were real, we wouldn\u2019t be able to talk about it. We\u2019d be immersed in its atmosphere. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

12<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The teachings of the wise tend toward silence. I don\u2019t know if there are words after enlightenment. Wise books confirm a path, not a point of arrival, and their instructions produce a kind of wisdom as you follow them. But as soon as you get distracted, nature comes crashing down on you again. And nature, no matter how authentic it may be, is chaotic. And it doesn\u2019t obey any virtues. As nearly as I can tell, it behaves randomly when doing good, almost by accident. When it comes to the bad, however, it seems plotted, calculated. A plan. There must be something to conclude from the difference. But conclusions aren\u2019t wise; they eliminate all access to curiosity. You should always be able to add another remark. In the kingdom of interpretations, every word is a cog that prompts another meaning. Only a wise person can make the machine stop. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

13<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My essence, if I have one, is rustic. It sees nature in anthropomorphic terms, as if it were someone, or as if it were inhabited by presences. A tree makes me want to communicate. It must be the divine flaw that precedes reason. As soon as I come into picture, the bond is smashed. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

14<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Bhagavad Gita <\/em>recommends that you live in accordance with your natural tendencies and don\u2019t try to become what you\u2019re not. At the sign of the slightest deviation, it suggests you meditate, put your head in order: an exercise that simulates the void. Emerging from the trance, you realize that you are what you are and nothing more. The world hasn\u2019t changed, just the texture of perception. It\u2019s been sapped of its electrical current, the risk of short-circuit. Things no longer revolve around the I<\/em>, but around the concavity you live in; the shell of consciousness, we might say. It\u2019s easy to fill it with thoughts, which move faster than the body and in all directions. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

15<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The trance is like a drug trip. Whatever you saw, whatever you learned on the other side, it stays there, it doesn\u2019t come back with you. As if it weren\u2019t an experience, but something more like a hallucination, too big to fit in an everyday mind.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

16<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every morning, Marcus Aurelius wrote in the second book of his Meditations<\/em>, we must remember that we \u201cshall have to do with meddlers, with the ungrateful, with the insolent, with the crafty, with the envious and the selfish.\u201d All such people, he adds, have seen neither the light of good nor the shadow of evil. Which means they aren\u2019t following an immutable sequence of principles, but a corroded chain of reactions. Was that what Brodsky meant when he declared, \u201cI have no convictions, I have only nerves\u201d? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

17<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

His Meditations <\/em>must have worked as a kind of nocturnal therapy for Marcus Aurelius, who found himself perpetually at war, always fighting off Germanic armies and expanding imperial borders as he wrote his twelve books or sections. They\u2019re the log of an extreme vigilance, a corrective to hubris and vanity. The goal was to behave well\u2014stoically, that is\u2014every single day. And the failure was constant: otherwise, the book never would have existed. \u201cWilt thou ever, O my soul, be good and single, and one, and naked, more open to view than the body which surrounds thee?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

18<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The wise people I\u2019ve known move lightly. They are wise in part because they don\u2019t see themselves as examples, don\u2019t impart lessons. They\u2019re spontaneous, which an unwise person never is. In the company of a wise person, I feel ashamed of my complexity: I can see that it\u2019s an evolutionary limitation, a vestigial organ that gets in my way. Mental labyrinths are exposed as a serious design flaw, useless, dizzying. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

19<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wise people lack indecisiveness. They act as if they knew. Or they don\u2019t act; they behave with prudence. This infuriates the unwise. How can you abstain from intervention?  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

20<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don\u2019t know if wisdom equates to happiness. I suspect not. There\u2019s something anonymous about wise people and everything narcissistic about happy people. Although happiness is a good platform for doing good; you love your neighbor when you\u2019re in a good mood. The wise thing, though, would be to do away with moods altogether, shutter the business of emotions. Ataraxy doesn\u2019t judge, love, or hate. It doesn\u2019t even have opinions. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

21<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Both the Meditations <\/em>of Marcus Aurelius and the Bhagavad Gita <\/em>are books written in times of war. Maybe wisdom is only attainable amid adversity. Or maybe it\u2019s not a form of normal conduct and only stands out in contrast. There\u2019s no need for it in the middle of ordinary, everyday life, as there are no major solutions or faults. Such a life seems wise in its lack of extremes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

22<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The pride of winning a war must be threatening, because then the conflict of ego begins. According to wise people, this pride must be stamped out, though not necessarily its acts. Ego\u2019s gluttony is insatiable, Krishna says, though it\u2019s certainly pleasant to indulge. Falling in love with yourself leads to absolute power: you won\u2019t compete with yourself or strip yourself of self-love, which feels like a sign of health. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

23<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

From an aesthetic or literary perspective, psychology is downright vulgar. Wise people are above it. Their attributes aren\u2019t personal; they have a kind of omniscience. At most, a mere individual can invent an inner life and make it their primary dilemma. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

24<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isolation is a condition of wisdom, at least in legends. At the age of thirty, Zarathustra left everything behind and sought shelter on the mountain. There, for an entire decade, \u201che enjoyed his spirit and solitude.\u201d When his heart was enlightened, he decided to descend and impart his teachings on the people: \u201cI want to teach men the sense of their existence.\u201d He was so wise that he seemed crazy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

25<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Solitude\u2014mine, at least\u2014is unfocused, can\u2019t find its own center. A decade on a mountain rustles up ghosts in your monologue. In the struggle to compromise with them, you end up taking your own side. The next step is the urge to explain why you\u2019re right.  That\u2019s why you go down: to speak.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

26<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once I went up to a little rooftop studio to learn whatever it is you learn in solitude. I\u2019d stare at the ceiling in search of respite, a glimmer of wisdom. But there were too many mundane voices in my head. According to Zarathustra, two people make for an ideal solitude. It\u2019s a riddle I haven\u2019t yet solved. In my solitary room, my thinking revealed all the dimensions of its own banality, more Joycean than Nietzschean; erratic, like a captive butterfly. On the mountain, Zarathustra listened to nature and subjected himself to the metamorphoses of the spirit. He came down ready to dance like an authentic god. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

27<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

If solitude is meant for two, it would have to take root between me and myself, which aren\u2019t the same. The inner gaze can tell them apart. It\u2019s wise because it knows. The fundamental virtue of this communion is that others don\u2019t pop up in your ahead like representatives of someone else\u2019s time. It keeps you up at night. Up on his mountain, Zarathustra realized that \u201cone must have all the virtues in order to sleep well.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

28<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The urban landscape clashes with consciousness in its search for tranquility. You need wilderness to commune. Thoreau moved into his cabin at Walden Pond in 1845, at the age of eighteen, and stayed till 1847. The experiment was a success, judging by the diary he kept during his pastoral stint. Thoreau returned with a message. Wise people usually have messages. They discover goodness when they\u2019re alone, which is suspicious. In the end, the world crashes down on them and they can\u2019t reaffix the coordinates of contemplation. Goodness becomes a source of ideological anguish. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

29<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Marcus Aurelius recommended that you \u201cdo every deed, speak every word, think every thought in the knowledge that you may end your days at any moment.\u201d In other words: \u201cAct as if you could die anytime.\u201d Which also exempts you from responsibilities: you\u2019re going to die anyway, so there\u2019s no problem if you cause harm. There ought to be a midpoint, a dialectic: learning to die means learning to live. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

30<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wisdom gauges the consequences, then abstains. I\u2019ve known wise people who go against themselves for the sake of reaching an outcome that would suit them all. They\u2019re well-trained in the art of yielding, of stepping aside, of shrinking themselves down so the space can expand. They don\u2019t complain or ask for recognition. Ataraxy has eliminated all traces of vanity. Before bed, after they\u2019ve turned out the lights, when they think back over their day, I wonder if they congratulate themselves. Virtue must need at least a pinch of pride to nod off at night.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

31<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ve heard that wise people never complain. But then they must not believe in politics. Excessive tolerance allows for any regime. Complaining may be the only way to participate. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

32<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the morning, before I get out of bed, I tell myself: I\u2019ll try to be wise today. Which doesn\u2019t mean I won\u2019t let anything bother me. Still, simple obstacles leave little space for pursuing wisdom. With the first blackout, an animal instinct lurches against the bars of the cage. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

33<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

To Boethius, philosophy proposes the need to reconcile with fate; to accept it, like it or not. If wisdom thrives in hardship or adversity, you\u2019re on the right path. The most tangible wisdom is born of unhappiness. The other kind is more like good luck. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

34<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the ideal of ataraxy, neither the negative nor the positive sparks a reaction. A wise person remains unruffled by their own and other people\u2019s actions. At most, they\u2019ll admit a surreptitious slip into melancholy. It\u2019s a wise emotion because it\u2019s a passive one. Melancholy people tend to be patient, and, as Brodsky notes, they\u2019re never hysterical; paralyzed by a mix of skepticism and fear, they\u2019re associated with the kind of stillness that Krishna prescribes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

35<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I know wise people who suffer from outbursts of joy, and then their particularity is erased: it\u2019s in suffering that they reveal their vocation. Which is quite a punishment. The gestures of happiness are generally vain, possessive. By contrast, sorrow and melancholy are austere, self-absorbed enough to be mistaken for ataraxy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

36<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Certain virtuous people come off as invasive, as if they were campaigning for something. They aren\u2019t wise. Shaken by the death of God, Zarathustra explains that the superior man must learn how to be bad, \u201cfor the evil is man\u2019s best force.\u201d This advice, he adds, is so subtle that few will understand it. His evil must give off a vital energy so overwhelming that it looks radiant. The evil I\u2019ve seen stands out only in its brutal negligence. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

37<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The terms are antiquated. Maybe there\u2019s already an avant-garde of wisdom, a more modern or technological expression of the unconditional soul. Some wise people have fully assumed the paraphernalia of their age. But their wisdom isn\u2019t unlike that of Marcus Aurelius. Which may mean that wisdom and life don\u2019t use the same instruments. Or that we\u2019re just as rudimentary inside as we were centuries ago. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

38<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I ask a wise person to teach me to be like her. The wise person studies me, baffled; she has no idea what I\u2019m talking about. I rephrase more clearly: I want to take wisdom lessons. Her perplexity fumbles for words to apologize with. She doesn\u2019t know how to teach because she doesn\u2019t know what she knows. It\u2019s an instinct and it\u2019s ineffable. I press her. A kind of stoicism glimmers forth again. Mostly I need to cultivate indifference. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

39<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Which is much like boredom, which is a keen awareness of duration, which is a form of anxiety. There must be a place, a proper medium for the wise person to do their thing. In my case, the place still involves types of external support, like cigarettes or cats. When I\u2019m alone, my head replays discordances. Or, in its active, clever mode, it wonders who to imitate; wisdom, at least, as carbon copy. Maybe that will be enough. But the result is usually just a rough-hewn pantomime. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

40<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It must be a matter of vocation: not all of us were born to be wise. If we can admit this, then we become mildly wise, and our modesty can be mitigated through our admiration for the truly enlightened. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

41<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Epictetus writes, \u201cPeople are not disturbed by events but by opinions of events.\u201d The example he cites is death: it\u2019s nothing terrible, but the opinion of death is that it\u2019s terrible. Silence becomes a positive force: unexplained, things have no mental consequences. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

42<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m superstitious: there are no superfluous examples. We\u2019ll never know if Socrates really did learn to die before he died. The riddle of his last words shows that he paid attention to duties and details. More than a garment of memory, Asclepius\u2019s rooster is a bet: in the face of transmigration, debts must be settled. You can\u2019t have a fowl flapping about in the beyond. What makes this any different from opinions? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

43<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wise people say we should always act according to reason, whose orderly flow we can hear in our heads. It urges equilibrium, albeit on a tightrope. What\u2019s curious, though, is how often we disobey it, no matter how right reason may be. Its voice is audible, pristine, but it coexists with enemies, hurt feelings, moods. And it takes a certain pleasure in stringing us along, wounding, provoking. But a wise person never succumbs to temptation. Their even-temperedness doesn\u2019t guarantee purity; that\u2019s only attainable through risk or remorse. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

44<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Guilt is the best exercise for innocence. Maybe a wise person is so self-sufficient, so mature, so confident, that their lack of uncertainty makes them opaque, satisfied. Their behavior isn\u2019t dangerous, which means they\u2019re spared nothing. They don\u2019t accumulate experiences or include them. In fact, they exclude them in the name of rationality, which offers every action an identical shape. Just as it should be: what good can atonement do? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

45<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

On many social occasions, wisdom means not telling the truth; it means pretending. I prefer the melancholy sorts who would rather abstain than lie. You step out into the world with your mask firmly in place; if you complain about how uncomfortable it is, you\u2019ve succumbed to childish rebellion. \u201cThat guy has no feet!\u201d a little boy shouted frankly the other day. The footless man went red and everyone laughed in complicity with the boy. I saw his face. To be wise, you must learn to fake things or silence them, even when drawn-out silence starts to resemble pedantry. \u201cTell me what you\u2019re thinking\u2026\u201d \u201cNo.\u201d Then you read between the lines and exegesis, or paranoia, begins. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

46<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wasn\u2019t wise yesterday. Or the day before. But I live with someone who\u2019s almost always wise, and a pantheistic cat. They teach me nothing that isn\u2019t grounded in the realm of deeds. Which is like learning about time with a calendar. You forget to pay attention. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

47<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I met another wise person. They smile at disorder and carelessness while I despair, because reality is a crude rehearsal for some scene to be performed later on, without an audience. When it\u2019s finally theater, it will play out like something planned ahead of time. For now, I sense confusion where the wise person sees people, humanity. Nothing obstructs their self-love, because equality is a concession of feelings, not a moral value. Wise people love themselves as profoundly as they love others and their smile is kind to the fractures contact can cause. I immediately ascribe them to some mistake of my own. I\u2019m not wise because I insist on being guilty. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

48<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wise people don\u2019t like to speak poorly of others, which is a total mystery to me, and also a literary obstacle, because it prevents life from being told as a novel. Without flaws, other people are puppets or parables. There\u2019s a lot that can go wrong or average; saying nothing about it causes gaps in our knowledge. As if you halted your senses by inflicting general welfare, a dictatorship of optimism. That yoke with a slogan: put a good face on it. Someone is always watching us, even in private. The mind is a public place, a tiny polis. That would be the best doctrine against overlooking possible spaces of sensibility, where I fear I may never settle for good. I\u2019m too morbidly curious about the accidents of thought, mine and other people\u2019s. It skids past the \u201chere and now,\u201d trying to escape into thoughts of me or itself. It never becomes the center of its center.   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

49<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It happened last night amid murmuring voices. One told me again that I need to learn the supreme lesson of simplicity. It\u2019s unquestionably problematic to see yourself as more complicated than the world. Inside, you should be transparent and accessible and the walls of the corridors leading outside must never be smudged. The haze is caused by confinement and perspective. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

50<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I read in an essay that the present is overrated and we should defend the art of disappointment and digression. How to advocate for pessimism? Requesting loyalty to the present is like demanding that faith be grounded in a tautology. The inevitable is here, if only from instant to instant. Disappointment invaded me before expectation did. By now, I suppose I\u2019ve developed a certain aptitude for transforming it into a spiritual resource. The present isn\u2019t welcoming, unless you add some aimless nostalgia to it. When I digress, all directions appear before me: twists and turns and nooks and crannies where judgment hides to keep from having to choose. The present flings you into the open air, promising that wisdom will come once you\u2019ve dominated the obvious. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

51<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

According to William Hazlitt, good people are the most hypocritical; bad people are the most generous. Good people care about nothing but themselves: they don\u2019t get hot and bothered, don\u2019t get indignant, don\u2019t get riled up. Bad people, by contrast, strain against the circumstances and want to rectify offenses. This, of course, makes them angry, vulnerable, and unpleasant to others. Behind the cleverness, there must be a clear distinction: the truly good and the truly bad. It would be comforting to conclude that a wise person, deep down, is an utterly selfish person, and that their opposite, the unwise person, answers to the stirrings of a noble soul. And so we\u2019d have to act through paradoxes and protect ourselves from any affection that distracted us from apathy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

52<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Proper nouns are a disservice to nature. Communion transpires in total anonymity. This often befalls wise people on beaches, when they contemplate the ocean and make professions about the future. I observe them observing and long to emulate them. But I saddle myself with deadweights: I <\/em>is one of them. Such interference keeps the ocean from comfortably revealing itself and I join the storyline of the spectacle.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

53<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe I\u2019ll become wise if I act like it. At first, I\u2019d follow the rules to a T, obeying the protocol until I\u2019d successfully eliminated anything original. My goal would be to replace my personhood with a series of conventions that would unravel the snares of inner life. My dreams and unconscious would be granted all the rights of the eccentric mind. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

54<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019ll start early tomorrow. The first step is to cultivate indifference. The second is to forget I\u2019m cultivating it. In the space between the two, there will be discoveries I\u2019ll have to accept with total neutrality. If I get ahead of myself, I break the rule. If I imagine them, I\u2019m committing an act of arrogance, as if their genesis were up to me. There are litanies in the air that only the alienated can discern. I hope to transcribe them. So that the defectors have a score of their own and I can soften my urge to dig deeper: what does identity sound like? Once erased, wisdom sands the walls and paints them white. You can live there almost every day. Jot it down, spread the word: the real remedy is to embark from no one.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n
<\/div>\n\n\n\n

De c\u00f3mo se fabrica la sabidur\u00eda\u202f<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

El mundo del hombre feliz es diferente de aqu\u00e9l del hombre infeliz.<\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wittgenstein <\/p>\n\n\n\n

1<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

La sabidur\u00eda no puede ser una sensaci\u00f3n, algo que va y viene dependiendo del \u00e1nimo. No puede ser un impulso ni una reacci\u00f3n. No puede funcionar s\u00f3lo en ciertos casos. No puede poseer grados. No puede ser salvo si es siempre. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

2<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yo no s\u00e9 qu\u00e9 es. La tradici\u00f3n alude a la ataraxia o la apat\u00eda, a la indiferencia ante cualquier forma de infelicidad o, incluso, felicidad. El sabio at\u00e1vico no se deja perturbar por nada, lo cual significa que solucion\u00f3 un problema personal, de sensibilidad, y no que cambi\u00f3 el mundo por medio de su actitud. Su lema ser\u00eda: \u201cLo importante soy yo y lo dem\u00e1s no me concierne\u201d. Lo que no est\u00e1 en sus manos no consigue alterarlo. Una lecci\u00f3n tan elemental puede desembocar en la armon\u00eda interna y la serenidad externa. He conocido gente as\u00ed, que registra al mundo y s\u00f3lo toma en cuenta lo que puede controlar. Casi estoy segura de que se trata de temperamentos privilegiados, de que no se aprende a ser de ese modo, sino que es una destreza. La sabidur\u00eda ser\u00eda entonces semejante a una habilidad, como dibujar bien o tener buena voz para el canto; una cualidad cong\u00e9nita que uno desarrolla o pierde por desuso. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

3<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

En sus Meditaciones, <\/em>Marco Aurelio escribi\u00f3 acerca de su amigo M\u00e1ximo: \u201cDaba la impresi\u00f3n de un hombre que no puede desviarse del bien, m\u00e1s que de un hombre que se ha mejorado a s\u00ed mismo\u201d. Dif\u00edcilmente puede mejorarse uno si no cambia de lugar, si el recept\u00e1culo es el de siempre. Habr\u00eda que salirse, arreglar desde afuera lo que est\u00e1 descompuesto y luego volver a meterse. No basta con una decisi\u00f3n. Quiz\u00e1 lo m\u00e1s preocupante es que uno ni siquiera es enteramente due\u00f1o de uno mismo. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

4<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cuando me miro de veras ya no me conozco. El autoconocimiento siempre es pasajero; un resultado de la distrac ci\u00f3n y nunca de la concentraci\u00f3n. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

5<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Seg\u00fan Marco Aurelio el sabio no se ocupa del pasado ni del futuro, pues ninguno de esos dos tiempos le pertenece. S\u00f3lo se le puede quitar el presente. De ah\u00ed que \u00e9ste deba ser su \u00fanica inquietud. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

6<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

El pasado es un recuerdo y el futuro una expectativa o anticipaci\u00f3n. Entre los dos extremos se halla el extra\u00f1o ahora, que es donde ocurren tambi\u00e9n la memoria y la imaginaci\u00f3n. Hoy es una hora de un d\u00eda; ayer, lo que uno puede recordar, aunque siempre interfiere el olvido. \u00bfC\u00f3mo explicar que uno sea capaz de olvidar lo que uno vive? La sabidur\u00eda lidia satisfactoriamente con esos agujeros. Su ant\u00eddoto suele ser simple: lo que no se puede resolver, debe obviarse. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

7<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

El pasado es la ventana y el futuro la puerta. El presente no ser\u00eda el arquitecto, sino el due\u00f1o de la casa. Nunca es toda suya al mismo tiempo; s\u00f3lo estancia por estancia. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

8<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

En el Enquiridi\u00f3n <\/em>de Epicteto la sabidur\u00eda equivale a la ecuanimidad. Es el principio estoico por excelencia, que permite que uno viva en la peor de las degradaciones exteriores sin que por ello se deje afectar: \u201cSi s\u00f3lo lo tuyo juzgas que es tuyo y lo ajeno, como realmente es, ajeno, nadie te coaccionar\u00e1 nunca, nadie te pondr\u00e1 impedimento, no increpar\u00e1s a nadie, no acusar\u00e1s a ser alguno, nada har\u00e1s que no quieras, nadie te perjudicar\u00e1: no tendr\u00e1s enemigo, pues no te dejar\u00e1s persuadir de que haya algo perjudicial\u201d. En pocas palabras: ser\u00e1s el s\u00fabdito ideal de una tiran\u00eda. A eso exactamente se refiere la libertad negativa de Isaiah Berlin; libertad que prescinde de las circunstancias. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

9<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Cuando leo libros de sabidur\u00eda el consuelo es instant\u00e1neo, como si la lectura ya hubiera resuelto un problema. Luego cierro el libro y vuelve a imponerse el car\u00e1cter, el m\u00edo y el de la \u00e9poca. Uno cree que si entiende el consejo significa que ya lo aplic\u00f3 o lo podr\u00e1 aplicar. Pero sospecho que la sabidur\u00eda no pasa por el entendimiento, no es un aprendizaje, sino un instinto. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

10<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

En el Bhagavad-Gita, <\/em>Krishna le explica a Arjuna que s\u00f3lo consigue la paz quien se libra del deseo. Pero el deseo es un placer en s\u00ed mismo. Krishna reclama: los placeres son adicciones y conducen a su ausencia, que es el dolor. Ni una cosa ni la otra. La apetencia y la falta de apetencia deben erradicarse. A cambio est\u00e1 la beatitud que no es un contenido, sino un continente. Yo la he atisbado entre algunos ruidos, cuando logro meditar y el mundo es la distancia entre mi cabeza y la luz m\u00e1s reciente. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

11<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A veces la beatitud es como la entrada s\u00fabita de un gato en un espacio en penumbra. A\u00fan est\u00e1 sometida a mi interpretaci\u00f3n y sigue siendo metaf\u00f3rica: es como <\/em>algo. Por lo tanto, seg\u00fan mis libros de sabidur\u00eda, no es beatitud sino la imagen que se le atribuye por ausencia. Si fuera real no se podr\u00eda hablar de ella, pues uno estar\u00eda inmerso en su atm\u00f3sfera. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

12<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Las lecciones de los sabios tienden a conducir al silencio. No s\u00e9 si haya palabras despu\u00e9s de la iluminaci\u00f3n. Los libros de sabidur\u00eda comprueban un trayecto, no un punto de llegada, y las instrucciones generan una forma de sabidur\u00eda mientras uno las cumple. Pero tan pronto se descuidan, vuelve a caer encima la naturaleza. Y ella, por m\u00e1s aut\u00e9ntica que sea, es ca\u00f3tica. Y no obedece a las virtudes: seg\u00fan he podido observar se comporta de manera azarosa cuando hace el bien, casi por accidente; en cambio, el mal da la impresi\u00f3n de calcularlo, de planearlo. Como si fuera un designio. Algo habr\u00eda que concluir de esa diferencia. Pero las conclusiones no son sabias; cancelan los accesos a la curiosidad. Siempre se debe poder a\u00f1adir otro comentario, pues en el reino de las interpretaciones cada palabra es un eslab\u00f3n que inaugura otro significado. S\u00f3lo un sabio sabe detener esa maquinaria. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

13<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mi esencia, si la tengo, es r\u00fastica. Concibe a la naturaleza en t\u00e9rminos antropom\u00f3rficos, como si fuera alguien o estuviera habitada por presencias. Un \u00e1rbol me provoca deseos de comunicaci\u00f3n. Ha de ser aquella tara de lo divino que precede a los razonamientos. Una vez que entro yo en juego, se desbarata el v\u00ednculo. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

14<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

El Bhagavad-Gita <\/em>recomienda que uno viva de acuerdo con sus tendencias naturales y que no intente ser lo que no es. Y a la menor desviaci\u00f3n sugiere meditar, poner en orden la cabeza con un ejercicio en que se simula el vac\u00edo. Al cabo del trance uno se percata de que es lo que es y nada m\u00e1s. El mundo no ha cambiado, s\u00f3lo la textura de la percepci\u00f3n; como si perdiera su electricidad y el peligro de un cortocircuito. El asunto no gira en torno al Yo, sino a la concavidad en la que uno vive; digamos, la c\u00e1scara de la conciencia. Es muy f\u00e1cil llenarla con el pensamiento, que acostumbra ir m\u00e1s r\u00e1pido que el cuerpo y en todas las direcciones. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

15<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

El trance es como un viaje de drogas: lo que se vio, lo que se aprendi\u00f3, se queda del otro lado y no regresa con uno. Como si no fuera una experiencia, sino algo m\u00e1s cercano a una alucinaci\u00f3n, cuyo tama\u00f1o no cabe en la mente m\u00e1s cotidiana. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

16<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

En el segundo libro de sus Meditaciones, <\/em>Marco Aurelio escribi\u00f3 que hay que recordar todas las ma\u00f1anas que uno se topar\u00e1 con \u201cel metiche, el malagradecido, el arrogante, el embustero, el envidioso y el hura\u00f1o\u201d. Toda esa gente, acota, no ha visto la luz del bien ni tampoco la sombra del mal. En consecuencia, no act\u00faa seg\u00fan una serie inmutable de principios, sino seg\u00fan una cadena deshilachada de reacciones. \u00bfA eso se habr\u00e1 referido Brodsky cuando declar\u00f3: \u201cNo tengo convicciones, s\u00f3lo nervios\u201d? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

17<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Las Meditaciones <\/em>han de haber funcionado como una terapia nocturna para Marco Aurelio, quien se hallaba en campa\u00f1a perpetua, luchando contra los germanos y expandiendo las fronteras del imperio mientras escrib\u00eda sus doce libros o secciones. Son la bit\u00e1cora de una vigilancia extrema; un corrector de vanidad y de hubris<\/em>. El prop\u00f3sito era comportarse bien \u2013 es decir, estoicamente \u2013 todos los d\u00edas. Y el fracaso era constante: de otro modo no habr\u00eda existido el libro. \u201c\u00bfNo ser\u00e1s nunca buena y simple y una y pura, alma m\u00eda, m\u00e1s manifiesta que el cuerpo que te rodea?\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

18<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Los sabios que he conocido son ligeros; parte de su sabidur\u00eda consiste en no erigirse en ejemplos ni en impartir ense\u00f1anzas. Son espont\u00e1neos, como no lo es nunca una persona no sabia. Cuando estoy con alguien sabio me averg\u00fcenza mi complejidad, pues s\u00e9 que es una limitaci\u00f3n evolutiva, un miembro que me sobra y me estorba. Sin duda los laberintos en la cabeza se acaban revelando como un grave error de dise\u00f1o, in\u00fatil y vertiginoso. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

19<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Los sabios carecen de indecisiones y act\u00faan como si supieran; o no act\u00faan, se muestran prudentes. Y eso a las personas no sabias les provoca ira. \u00bfC\u00f3mo abstenerse de intervenir? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

20<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

No s\u00e9 si la sabidur\u00eda equivalga a la felicidad. Sospecho que no. Hay algo de anonimia en la persona sabia y todo de narcisista en la feliz. Aunque la felicidad es una buena plataforma para hacer el bien; uno quiere al pr\u00f3jimo cuando uno est\u00e1 de buen humor. Sin embargo, lo sabio ser\u00eda prescindir de los estados de \u00e1nimo, del negocio de las emociones. La ataraxia no juzga, no ama, no odia. Ni siquiera opina. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

21<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tanto las Meditaciones <\/em>de Marco Aurelio como el Bhagavad-Gita <\/em>son libros escritos en medio de la guerra. Quiz\u00e1 la sabidur\u00eda s\u00f3lo sea asequible en la adversidad; o quiz\u00e1 no es un comportamiento normal y s\u00f3lo resalta por contraste. En la vida m\u00e1s convencional o rutinaria no hace falta, pues no hay grandes soluciones ni grandes culpas. La vida as\u00ed parece sabia por su falta de extremos. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

22<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

El orgullo de ganar una guerra ha de ser amenazante porque surge el conflicto del ego. Seg\u00fan los sabios \u00e9ste debe borrarse, aunque no necesariamente sus actos. La gula del ego es insaciable, seg\u00fan Krishna, si bien procura gusto paliarla. Enamorarse de uno mismo desemboca en un poder absoluto; uno no va a competir consigo ni despojarse de ese amor propio que se asemeja a la salud. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

23<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Desde un punto de vista est\u00e9tico o literario, la psicolog\u00eda es una vulgaridad. El sabio est\u00e1 por encima de ella y sus atributos no son personales sino que ata\u00f1en a una especie de omnisciencia. El mero individuo, en cambio, a lo mucho se puede inventar una vida interior y convertirla en su principal dilema. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

24<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

El aislamiento es una condici\u00f3n de la sabidur\u00eda, al menos en las leyendas. A los treinta a\u00f1os Zaratustra abandon\u00f3 todo y se fue a refugiar a la monta\u00f1a y ah\u00ed, durante una d\u00e9cada, \u201cdisfrut\u00f3 sin cansarse de su esp\u00edritu y de su soledad\u201d. Cuando se le ilumin\u00f3 el coraz\u00f3n decidi\u00f3 emprender el descenso para transmitirle sus ense\u00f1anzas a la gente: \u201cQuiero ense\u00f1ar a los hombres el sentido de su existencia\u201d. Era tan sabio que parec\u00eda un loco. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

25<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

La soledad, la m\u00eda al menos, es dispersa, no halla su propio centro; diez a\u00f1os en una monta\u00f1a generan fantasmas en el mon\u00f3logo y a fuerza de transigir con ellos uno termina por darse la raz\u00f3n. De ah\u00ed a querer comunicarla hay un solo paso. Por eso uno baja: para hablar. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

26<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alguna vez me sub\u00ed a un cuarto en una azotea para aprender eso que se aprende en la soledad. Miraba el techo en busca de alg\u00fan solaz, un atisbo de sabidur\u00eda. Pero en la cabeza hab\u00eda demasiadas voces mundanas. Seg\u00fan Zaratustra la soledad id\u00f3nea es de dos. El acertijo no lo he resuelto. En mi cuarto solitario el pensamiento mostraba todas las dimensiones de su banalidad, m\u00e1s joyceano que nietzscheano; err\u00e1tico, como una mariposa encerrada. Zaratustra escuch\u00f3 a la naturaleza y en la monta\u00f1a pudo someterse a las metamorfosis del esp\u00edritu. Baj\u00f3 dispuesto a bailar como un dios aut\u00e9ntico. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

27<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Si la soledad es de dos, tendr\u00eda que darse entre yo y uno mismo, que no son iguales. La mirada interior sabe distinguirlos y es sabia porque sabe. La virtud fundamental de esta comuni\u00f3n es que no surjan los otros en la mente como representantes del tiempo ajeno. Se pierde el sue\u00f1o. En su monta\u00f1a Zaratustra cay\u00f3 en la cuenta de que \u201ces preciso poseer todas las virtudes para dormir bien\u201d. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

28<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

El paisaje urbano choca con la conciencia que busca apaciguarse. Para comulgar hace falta la intemperie. Thoreau se mud\u00f3 a su caba\u00f1a en Walden Pond en 1845, a los veintiocho a\u00f1os, y estuvo ah\u00ed hasta 1847. El experimento fue un \u00e9xito, a juzgar por el diario que escribi\u00f3 durante su residencia en el campo. Thoreau regres\u00f3 con un mensaje. Los sabios suelen poseer mensajes. Descubren la bondad a solas, lo cual resulta sospechoso. Al cabo se les echa encima el mundo y no consiguen fijar de nuevo las coordenadas de la contemplaci\u00f3n. La bondad entonces se transforma en una angustia ideol\u00f3gica. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

29<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Marco Aurelio recomend\u00f3 que \u201cdado que es posible que uno deje la vida en cualquier momento, hay que regular cada acto y cada pensamiento en acuerdo con esto\u201d. La m\u00e1xima ser\u00eda: \u201cComp\u00f3rtate como si pudieras morir en todo instante\u201d. Lo cual tambi\u00e9n exime de responsabilidades: como uno va a morir, uno puede hacer da\u00f1o. Habr\u00eda que encontrar un t\u00e9rmino medio o una dial\u00e9ctica: aprender a morir es aprender a vivir. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

30<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

La sabidur\u00eda mide las consecuencias y se abstiene. Yo he conocido sabios y sabias que se contrar\u00edan a fin de que el desenlace les convenga a todos. Son personas instruidas en el arte de ceder el paso, de hacerse a un lado, de reducirse para que el espacio aumente. No se quejan y no piden reconocimiento. La ataraxia ha eliminado los rastros de la vanidad. Me pregunto si en las noches, ya con la luz apagada, cuando hacen el recuento del d\u00eda, no se congratulan. Tiene que haber una pizca de orgullo para que tanta virtud adormezca. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

31<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He o\u00eddo que las personas sabias nunca se quejan. Pero entonces descreen de la pol\u00edtica. La tolerancia excesiva admite cualquier r\u00e9gimen. La queja puede ser la \u00fanica forma de participaci\u00f3n. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

32<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Me digo en las ma\u00f1anas, antes de salir de la cama: hoy intentar\u00e9 ser sabia, lo cual significa que no permitir\u00e9 que nada me moleste. Sin embargo, algo tiene el subdesarrollo que no contribuye a la sabidur\u00eda local. Al primer apag\u00f3n el animal se golpea contra los barrotes de su jaula. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

33<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A Boecio la filosof\u00eda le indica que hay que reconciliarse con el destino, aceptarlo aunque a uno no le guste. Si la sabidur\u00eda medra con la desgracia o la adversidad, el camino es correcto. La sabidur\u00eda m\u00e1s tangible es la que nace de la infelicidad. La otra se asemeja a la buena suerte. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

34<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

El ideal de la ataraxia es que ni lo negativo ni lo positivo provoquen reacciones. La persona sabia permanece imperturbable ante sus actos y los actos ajenos; a lo mucho acepta que se introduzca, subrepticiamente casi, la melancol\u00eda. Es una emoci\u00f3n sabia por pasiva. Los melanc\u00f3licos tienden a la paciencia y, como se\u00f1ala Brodsky, nunca son hist\u00e9ricos; una mezcla de escepticismo y miedo los paraliza y los identifica con esa quietud que prescribe Krishna. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

35<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Conozco personas sabias que padecen arrebatos de alegr\u00eda; ah\u00ed se borra su particularidad: es en el sufrimiento donde revelan su vocaci\u00f3n, lo cual representa una condena considerable. Los gestos de la alegr\u00eda tienden a ser vanidosos, posesivos. En cambio, la tristeza o la melancol\u00eda son austeras, tan ensimismadas que pueden confundirse con la ataraxia. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

36<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hay ciertos bondadosos que resultan invasivos, como si estuvieran en campa\u00f1a. No son sabios. Zaratustra, conmocionado por la muerte de Dios, afirma que el hombre superior debe aprender a ser malo, \u201cporque el mal es la mejor fuerza del hombre\u201d. Aclara que ese consejo es tan sutil que muy pocos lo comprender\u00e1n. Supongo que su mal apunta hacia una energ\u00eda vital tan avasalladora que termina por mostrarse luminosa. El mal que yo he visto sobresale \u00fanicamente por su brutal negligencia. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

37<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Los t\u00e9rminos son anticuados. Quiz\u00e1 ya exista una vanguardia de la sabidur\u00eda, una expresi\u00f3n m\u00e1s moderna o tecnol\u00f3gica del alma incondicional. Hay personas sabias que han asumido plenamente la parafernalia de su \u00e9poca. Sin embargo, su sabidur\u00eda en realidad no difiere de la de Marco Aurelio. Lo cual tal vez signifique que la sabidur\u00eda y la vida no comparten los mismos instrumentos. O que adentro somos tan rudimentarios como hace siglos. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

38<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yo le pido a una persona sabia que me ense\u00f1e a ser como ella. La persona sabia me observa con perplejidad, pues ignora exactamente a qu\u00e9 me refiero. Se lo planteo con m\u00e1s claridad: quiero lecciones de sabidur\u00eda. La perplejidad busca palabras para disculparse. No sabe ense\u00f1ar porque no sabe lo que sabe. Es un instinto y es inefable. Yo presiono. Sale a relucir de nuevo una especie de estoicismo. Principalmente, debo cultivar la indiferencia. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

39<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Que es similar al tedio, que es una conciencia aguda de la duraci\u00f3n, que es una forma de la ansiedad. En alg\u00fan sitio ha de estar el justo medio donde se acomoda el sabio para hacer lo suyo. En mi caso tal sitio tiene que ver a\u00fan con apoyos externos, como los cigarros o los gatos. A solas mi cabeza reproduce disonancias o, en su modalidad activa, ocurrente, se pregunta a qui\u00e9n va a imitar para que al menos la sabidur\u00eda sea una calca. Quiz\u00e1 baste con eso. Pero suele producirse s\u00f3lo una pantomima burda. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

40<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ser\u00e1 cuesti\u00f3n de oficio: no todos nacimos para ser sabios. Si lo admitimos, nos hacemos ligeramente sabios y nuestra modestia puede mitigarse con la admiraci\u00f3n por los iluminados. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

41<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Escribe Epicteto: \u201cLo que turba a los hombres no son los sucesos, sino las opiniones acerca de los sucesos\u201d. Y ejemplifica con la muerte que, comenta, no es nada terrible salvo porque se ha opinado que es terrible. La carga positiva recae en el silencio: sin explicaciones las cosas carecen de consecuencias mentales. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

42<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Soy supersticiosa: no se puede plantear un ejemplo en balde. Nunca sabremos si S\u00f3crates de veras aprendi\u00f3 a morir antes de morir. El acertijo de sus \u00faltimas palabras lo muestra atento a los deberes, a los detalles. M\u00e1s que una prenda de la memoria, el gallo de Esculapio es una apuesta: como habr\u00e1 transmigraci\u00f3n, las deudas deben saldarse. No puede revolotear un ave perdida en el m\u00e1s all\u00e1. \u00bfEn qu\u00e9 difiere esto de las opiniones? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

43<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Los sabios dictan que se debe actuar siempre conforme a la raz\u00f3n, cuyo flujo n\u00edtido uno escucha dentro de su cabeza; aconseja el equilibrio, aunque sea por una cuerda floja. Lo curioso es cu\u00e1nto uno la desobedece, a pesar de que la raz\u00f3n tiene la raz\u00f3n. Su voz es pr\u00edstina, audible, pero habita con enemigos, los sentimientos heridos, los estados de \u00e1nimo. Y procura cierto placer darles por su lado, lastimar o provocar. Pero la persona sabia nunca cede a la tentaci\u00f3n. Su ecuanimidad no garantiza pureza; \u00e9sta s\u00f3lo se consigue a trav\u00e9s del arrepentimiento o el riesgo. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

44<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

La culpa es el mejor ejercicio para la inocencia. Quiz\u00e1 la persona sabia sea tan autosuficiente, tan madura, tan confiada que su falta de incertidumbre la haga lucir opaca, satisfecha. Carece de peligro su comportamiento y, por lo tanto, no se salva de nada. No acumula experiencias ni las incluye, sino m\u00e1s bien las excluye en aras de la racionalidad, que ofrece una horma id\u00e9ntica para cada acci\u00f3n. As\u00ed debe ser: \u00bfde qu\u00e9 sirve la expiaci\u00f3n? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

45<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

En muchas ocasiones sociales la sabidur\u00eda consiste en no decir la verdad, en fingir. Prefiero a los melanc\u00f3licos que, en vez de mentir, se abstienen. Uno sale a la calle con su m\u00e1scara bien encajada; quejarse de cu\u00e1nto incomoda equivale a caer en una suerte de rebeli\u00f3n infantil. \u201cEse se\u00f1or no tiene pies\u201d, grit\u00f3 un ni\u00f1o con franqueza el otro d\u00eda. El se\u00f1or sin pies enrojeci\u00f3 y todos se rieron c\u00f3mplices del ni\u00f1o. Yo vi la mueca. Para ser sabio hay que aprender a simular o a callar, aunque el silencio prolongado termine por asemejarse a la pedanter\u00eda. \u201cDime qu\u00e9 piensas\u2026\u201d \u201cNo.\u201d Entonces uno lee entre l\u00edneas y comienza la ex\u00e9gesis o la paranoia. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

46<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ayer no fui sabia; antier tampoco. Pero vivo con una persona casi siempre sabia y un gato pante\u00edsta. No me ense\u00f1an nada salvo por v\u00eda de los hechos. Lo cual es como aprender del tiempo con un calendario. A uno se le olvida prestar atenci\u00f3n. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

47<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Conoc\u00ed a otra persona sabia. Al desorden y al descuido les sonr\u00ede mientras yo me desespero porque la realidad es un ensayo tosco de alguna escena que acontecer\u00e1 posteriormente, sin testigos; cuando sea teatro, podr\u00e1 contemplarse como algo planeado de antemano. Por ahora, yo concibo confusi\u00f3n donde la persona sabia ve humanidad, gente. Nada obstruye su amor propio porque la igualdad es una concesi\u00f3n de los sentimientos y no un valor moral. La persona sabia se quiere tanto como quiere a los dem\u00e1s y su sonrisa es benevolente con las fracturas que a veces produce el contacto. Yo de inmediato las atribuyo a un error m\u00edo. No soy sabia porque me empecino en ser culpable. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

48<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A los sabios no les gusta hablar mal de los otros, lo cual para m\u00ed es un enigma y un escollo literario, pues impide contarse la vida como una novela. Sin defectos los otros son par\u00e1bolas o t\u00edteres. Hay mucho que puede salir mal o regular; no comentarlo genera lagunas en el conocimiento. Como si uno suspendiera la funci\u00f3n de los sentidos por forzar el bienestar general, por una dictadura del optimismo. Ese yugo con lema: ponerle buena cara. Alguien siempre nos est\u00e1 mirando, incluso en la intimidad. La mente es un lugar p\u00fablico, una polis en diminuto: tal ser\u00eda la doctrina m\u00e1s adecuada para no perder de vista los espacios ideales de la sensatez, donde me temo que no logro vivir de modo permanente por causa del morbo que me despiertan los accidentes de la conciencia, m\u00eda y ajena. Ella se derrapa cuando trasciende el \u201caqu\u00ed y ahora\u201d buscando abstraerse para pensar en m\u00ed o en s\u00ed. No consigue ser centro de su centro. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

49<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anoche transcurri\u00f3 entre voces. Una me dijo otra vez que debo aprender la lecci\u00f3n suprema de ser sencilla. Sin duda es una traba que la personalidad se asuma todav\u00eda m\u00e1s compleja que el mundo. Adentro tendr\u00eda que ser transparente y accesible y jam\u00e1s podr\u00edan emborronarse los pasillos que conducen afuera. Las brumas son efecto del encierro y del punto de vista. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

50<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Le\u00ed en un ensayo que se ha sobrevalorado el presente y que habr\u00eda que defender el arte de la decepci\u00f3n y de la divagaci\u00f3n. \u00bfC\u00f3mo militar a favor del pesimismo? Pedir que uno se atenga al presente es como exigir que la fe se construya sobre una tautolog\u00eda. Lo inevitable esta aqu\u00ed, aunque sea s\u00f3lo de instante en instante. A m\u00ed la decepci\u00f3n me invadi\u00f3 antes que la expectativa y supongo que ya he desarrollado cierta habilidad para que se transforme en un recurso espiritual. El presente no es acogedor a menos que uno le a\u00f1ada la nostalgia sin rumbo. Cuando divago todas las direcciones se muestran: meandros y recovecos donde se esconde el criterio a fin de no elegir. El presente lo arroja a uno en la intemperie con la promesa de que la sabidur\u00eda vendr\u00e1 cuando se domine la obviedad. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

51<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Seg\u00fan William Hazlitt, las buenas personas son las m\u00e1s hip\u00f3critas, y las malas, las m\u00e1s generosas. A las buenas no les importa nada salvo s\u00ed mismas: no se molestan, no se indignan, no se acaloran. Las malas, en cambio, luchan contra las circunstancias y quieren deshacer agravios. Eso, claro, las enoja, las hace susceptibles y poco agradables para los dem\u00e1s. Detr\u00e1s del ingenio tiene que haber una clara distinci\u00f3n: los verdaderos buenos y los verdaderos malos. Ser\u00eda reconfortante concluir que el sabio, en el fondo, es un perfecto ego\u00edsta y que lo contrario, el no sabio, responde a las agitaciones de un alma noble. Habr\u00eda entonces que actuar por medio de paradojas y cuidarse de cualquier afecto que distraiga de la apat\u00eda. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

52<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A la naturaleza no le van los nombres propios. Si la anonimia es completa se consigue la comuni\u00f3n. Eso suele ocurrirles a las personas sabias en las playas, cuando contemplan el mar y afirman cosas sobre el devenir. Las observo observar y quisiera emularlas. Pero tiendo a engatusarme con los pesos inertes: yo es uno de \u00e9sos. Tanta interferencia impide que el mar se revele a sus anchas y me ponga en la trama misma del espect\u00e1culo. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

53<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Si pretendo que soy sabia quiz\u00e1 acabe por serlo. Al principio seguir\u00eda al pie de la letra las reglas de un protocolo hasta anular cualquier tipo de originalidad. Mi objetivo ser\u00eda sustituir a mi persona con una serie de convenciones que aniquilaran las trampas de la vida interior. Al inconsciente y a los sue\u00f1os se les conceder\u00edan todos los derechos de la mente exc\u00e9ntrica. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

54<\/strong> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ma\u00f1ana temprano empiezo. Lo primero ser\u00e1 cultivar la indiferencia. Lo segundo, olvidar que la cultivo. En ese espacio habr\u00e1 descubrimientos que tendr\u00e9 que recibir con plena neutralidad. Si me anticipo infrinjo la regla; si los imagino cometo un acto de soberbia, como si el g\u00e9nesis estuviera en mis manos. Hay letan\u00edas en el aire que s\u00f3lo escuchan los enajenados. Yo aspiro a transcribirlas. Para que tengan su partitura los tr\u00e1nsfugas y yo mitigue mis ansias de hurgar: \u00bfc\u00f3mo suena la identidad? Cuando se borra, la sabidur\u00eda alisa los muros y los pinta de blanco. Ah\u00ed se puede vivir casi todos los d\u00edas. Habr\u00e1 que anotarlo y difundir la noticia: partir de nadie es el gran remedio. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n

Translator’s Dispatch: Robin Myers on Tedi L\u00f3pez Mills<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n
\n\n\n\n

Tedi L\u00f3pez Mills (Mexico City, 1959) has published twelve books of poetry: Cinco estaciones<\/em>; Un lugar ajeno<\/em>; Segunda persona <\/em>(Efra\u00edn Huerta Award); Glosas<\/em>; Horas<\/em>; Luz por aire y agua<\/em>; Un jard\u00edn, cinco noches (y otros poemas)<\/em>; Contracorriente <\/em>(Jos\u00e9 Fuentes Mares Award; English translation by Wendy Burke for Phoneme Media); Parafrasear<\/em>; Muerte en la r\u00faa Augusta <\/em>(Xavier Villaurrutia Award; English translation by David Shook for Eyewear Publishing); Amigo del perro cojo <\/em>(Carlos Pellicer Ibero-American Poetry Award); and Lo que hicimos<\/em>. She is also the author of five prose works: La noche en blanco de Mallarm\u00e9<\/em>, El libro de las explicaciones<\/em> (Antonin Artaud Award), La invenci\u00f3n de un diario<\/em>, Mi caso Rimbaud<\/em>, and Cascar\u00f3n roto<\/em>. She is a member of Mexico\u2019s National System of Artists. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/div>\n\n\n\n

Robin Myers is a Mexico City-based translator and poet. Recent translations include Animals at the End of the World <\/em>by Gloria Susana Esquivel (2020), Cars on Fire <\/em>by M\u00f3nica Ram\u00f3n R\u00edos (2020), and The Restless Dead <\/em>by Cristina Rivera Garza (2020); coming later in 2021 are works by Leonardo Teja, Keila Vall de la Ville, Daniel Lipara, and Adalber Salas Hern\u00e1ndez. She writes a monthly column for Palette Poetry<\/em>. Her translation of Tedi L\u00f3pez Mills\u2019 The Book of Explanations<\/em> will be published by Deep Vellum in 2022. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Translation Series curated by Jae Kim<\/a>. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Her motto would have to be I\u2019m what matters and nothing else concerns me. She doesn\u2019t try to alter what\u2019s out of her hands. . .<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":1729,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[77],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thespectacle.wustl.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1703"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thespectacle.wustl.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thespectacle.wustl.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thespectacle.wustl.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thespectacle.wustl.edu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1703"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/thespectacle.wustl.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1703\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thespectacle.wustl.edu\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/1729"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thespectacle.wustl.edu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1703"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thespectacle.wustl.edu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1703"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thespectacle.wustl.edu\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1703"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}