For an unknown law of thermodynamics, winter darkness and cold push the body to heat homes. At the same time, the same principle, spirit retreats and leaves no man's land adjacent to the skin. This movement is what I call introspective hibernation and, contrary to popular belief, is something that affects the soul.
This individual-spiritual imprisonment in this case me, to rid the environment is left alone with himself: his memories, desires, possible situations, doubts and fears. When you can not generate new experiences and relive a review old ones, that appear as an echo of the past and have always lost something sharp and wrenching. As each winter
suffer the same "via crucis" I have come to build an involuntary ritual. So good point seizes gray sky, full of pantry a huge number of mandarins, dusted off my discography hears all matters which awakens in me a boost melanólico and keep my hand a generous supply of readings. So I spend my days: eating mandarins and pace of just reading the melodies, letting my mind transit erratic in the lanes of memory. There is a memory
appellant to which I attach particular importance. When I lived in the Antarctic, a penguin when I was a teenager, my mother took me to see every winter night the polar aurora. For this he filled his backpack mandarins and led me to what he called "secret place", a kind of hill away from barrunteo Whimsy other penguins. So we spent the night, eating tangerines and we were caught by the kaleidoscopic movement of the aurora australis.
often on the way back, we kept the same discussion on purpose of beauty and art. My mother, penguin sensible and pragmatic, argued that art was the way he the man to mimic nature's ability to create beauty. I instead, totally influenced by my clumsy formalist readings of theorists, argued that beauty has little to do with art. He thought it was releasing the potential of semantic processing through experiential interaction with artifacts.
To put it more plain does the purpose of art is the beauty or meaning? This dilemma may seem superfluous today as I am sure that most readers were quick to defend positions that the two keep their moment of truth. It really is not difficult to agree with this proposal, it is difficult to know how to think.
Now, after some years, I suspect that my mother he was right, but I still confused on what beauty is. One can define it as something that appeals to our sensibilities, but not respond to the fact that, sometimes, beauty is intellectual stimulation and could also confuse an object of beauty with beauty. It should be remembered that art is often beautifully horrific events. This problem is what in the philosophical tradition is part of the question of the sublime.
Whatever beauty I think it has to do with an experience in which they express a normativity. The experience of beauty is in the form of an outburst in which the object seems to require that all reality should be like him. Through the beauty of reality demands our way. It makes us give in to the voice of this must be! Assuming as true
minimal notion of beauty, I can now understand what kind of action is my process of hibernation. In this beauty becomes a ritual, in order to change (semantics and emotionally) the rupture caused by nostalgia in a sedative state of melancholy.
Thus, the past ceases to be a paradise lost and becomes a small oasis found, we recover the strength to continue the journey.
