Affection
Resentment imprisons, the resentful believe they are deserving of power.
When Pedro talks to me about Paulo, I know more about Pedro than about Paulo" — more or less like this, demonstrated the prince of Western Philosophy. We all feel our resentments, our marks, our senseless hates. I always doubt those who are perfect and saviors of the world. Care of the self is necessary. The way we live, the places we go, the movies we watch, the people we love and hate; everything that involves relationships leaves a mark on us and is stored in memory — which can be summoned and twisted at any moment. Reflective activity, or the action of the body, are the means of escape when we are being moved from one place to another, adrift, subjected by an external force — our strength belongs to the common, not to the ego. We are social beings, although it may not seem so. Who has never seen and approved the best, only to choose the worst? Paraphrasing the Roman poet of the Metamorphoses. There are many ways to deal with resentment, and there is no formula for it. Sadness and degradation make the oppressed want to become the oppressor; they seek to reproduce the harm they suffered, or want to forcibly take the object they believe they deserve, simply by following the models. Joy, as a concept, is not just a smile on the face, but a power in action, one that connects and expands. It breaks the chains of resentment. And if resentment visits, it is a provocation for change. Do not insist. Seek the right moment, see from another perspective, create the perspective that makes sense to you. If you encounter a resentful person: If possible, let them go — this battle is probably not worth it. They are imprisoned in their own passions, and while they live, they still have the means to overcome themselves.
The more the mind thinks, the more it can think. The more the body moves, the more it can move. There is no hierarchy between mind and body.
The Nobel laureate in matter and memory helps us to understand. Our brain is an organ that receives stimuli and sends them out (afferent and efferent nerves), just like any other functional organ. There is no predominance of the brain over our heart, lungs, or stomach. The brain does not think; it reacts. Thought and movement are the means of creating reality and meaning. Differentiation is creative. The simple reaction is the animal in us. In the attempt to control our surroundings and ourselves, we establish certainties based on habits — automatism is necessary for transformation, as demonstrated by the cursed librarian who received the theses of the history of W. Benjamin himself before trying to cross the Pyrenees, fleeing from the Nazi regime. Generally, our self-deception of control is like a legion of Frankensteins — or commodities — that sicken us and coerce us — if not others. Drifting in imagination or abstaining from presence kills us slowly from the inside. In this state, we are only reacting, without expanding and differentiating; we cease to be nature and become machine. Locating an object or person that causes our anguish is not an answer — it is not necessary to expel the foreigner, purge a demon, much less kill the different. It is, rather, a path of self-investigation — what matters is the way we relate, nothing is inherently good or bad; the problem lies in the use we make of them — yes, I know, there are scoundrels and villainies, I am human, I agree, but that’s not the point. Ignorance is not a blessing. Suffering is not redemption — much less a punishment; it is fire. It does not mean you are on the right path just because you suffer. That your mind is a transcendent empire that can dominate your body. Listen to yourself more. Pain and suffering can strengthen us, but they should not be romanticized. We all have our path, our desire. And we feed on the process, on the environment. The superstition that if you think, you are a sad person, out of sorts with life; honestly, I think it’s very tacky.
Perceiving desire only as lack is a contempt for life
Desire. A central theme that emerges from the encounter between the historian of philosophy and the psychoanalyst experimenting at La Borde. It is very mature, serious, and respectable — especially in a moment of pain — to come to the conclusion that we are incomplete beings, who subliminally address our lacks. A brute force pushes us to perceive it this way, and we are complicit. The philosopher of words and things affirms in the introduction to Anti-Oedipus: there is a fasc** in each one of us. In the book, hurriedly written after the revolts of May '68, the duo refines concepts: Desire is construction. The unconscious — machinic. Our forces — are not even ours — they are not external but with us; they pass through us and everything else that is extension and thought. Essentially, desire is our force to persist in existence, conatus, as the prince demonstrates. We are affirmative and want to live by nature. Deleuze quotes the descriptive traveler of time and memory when talking about desire in his alphabet; he makes us imagine a picture, not an object. And we aim, in this way, to be part of a whole. In a scene. Whether we want it or not, we create reality. Be it our differentiation or the repetition of what is already there.**
When I follow the tragic news of the everyday, sometimes I want to lock myself away and never come out, I see many lacks there, in other words, I feel contempt — but living is intrinsic to life. Nothing can do more for a human being than another human being; if we can do something, it is to perfect the way we relate. Desire as lack is a discharge. We thus run after one object, then another object, and so on, growing weaker and less alive with each return. I remembered a quote from the anthropophagic poet: The dead govern the living. How many times a day can we perceive the dead acting in us? — I’ve noticed it several times today. Lately, I see many Brazilians running after superheroes — whether in politics or in betting — we are a suffering people. And the corpses thus celebrate our lack of boldness, in the name of a sacred that exists only to save them. They promise latrines and reinforce imaginary fears, in exchange for something very valuable.
