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share this text Leonardo Boff, I found the blog of Alejandra .




human being: the poetic and prosaic


One of the most inspired German poets, Friedrich Höderlin (1770-1843), said: "Man dwells poetically Earth." This thought then completed a French thinker Edgar Morin: "The human being lives too prosaically Earth." Poetry and prose in addition to being literary, existential express two modes of being.

involves creating poetry that makes the person feel taken by a larger force that brings unusual connections, new lighting, new directions. Under the force of creation sings the person leaves the routine assumes different paths. Then comes the shaman that is hidden in every person, this provision makes us tune with the energies of the universe, taking the pulse of the heart of another nature and of God himself. In this capacity discover new meanings of reality.



"Inhabiting the Earth poetically" means to feel like something alive, evocative, grand and magical. The Earth's landscapes, colors, smells, fascination and mystery. Why did not ecstasy at the majesty of the Amazon jungle with its trees which extended hands upward, with the tangle of lianas and vines, with the subtle nuances of green, red and yellow, with the chirping of birds and the abundance of its fruits? How Not to be amazed by the vastness of the waters that penetrate slowly into the thicket and down gently to the ocean? Why did not feel full of awe when walking for hours through the virgin forest, as several times I had to do with Chico Mendes? How not to feel small, lost, a small bug with its priceless biodiversity?

poetic dwelling in the world when the skin feel soft freshness of the morning, when we suffer under the summer heat of the midday sun, when we calm at sunset, when we invade the mystery of the darkness of night. We shudder, vibrate, we are filled with tenderness and awe before us the Earth in its inexhaustible vitality and to meet the beloved. Then live the way of being poetic. Unfortunately

are blind and deaf and lobotomy victims of modern positivist paradigm simply those who see the Earth as a laboratory for physical-chemical elements, like a disjointed conglomeration of things juxtaposed. No, she is alive, Mother and Pachamama.



prosaically also inhabit the Earth. The prose reflects the everyday life and everyday gray, made of family and social tensions, such as schedules and professional duties, with discrete hidden joys and sorrows, but also hides priceless prose. Are discovered after a long stay in a hospital, or hurry back after spending months away from home painful. Nothing softer than the serene passing of the hours and housework and professional. It gives us the feeling of smooth sailing through the sea of \u200b\u200blife. Poetry and Prose

coexist and alternate from time to time. We need to ensure the poetic and the prosaic of our lives, because they complement and are in danger of trivialization.



Mass culture has distorted the poetic. Leisure, which would the time of rupture of the mundane, has been imprisoned by the entertainment culture that encourages visitors to excess consumption of alcohol, drugs and sex. It is a poetic tamed, not ecstatic, enjoyment without charm.



prosaic has been converted into simple Darwinian struggle for survival, exhausting people with monotonous jobs, without hope of enjoying the deserved rest. And when it is hostage to those who have thought of everything for them, organize them and make your trip unforgettable experiences. And they get it. But since everything is artificially induced, the effect is a painful existential void. And then give them antidepressants. Learn

Lightness live with the mundane and the poetic enthusiasm is indicative of a fully human life.

Leonardo Boff is the author of The Awakening of the eagle: the demonic and the symbolic construction of reality, Trotta, Madrid, 2000.
Claudio Parente Photos / swaily , Kaj Bjurman, blinked, jaffa48 , deputy , Miguel_CD .

To me, I think that lately, or poetic, or prosaic ... say that I have lived, proletariat ...

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What do I do? I start the master plan to be completely forgotten when he is gone and while I'm here quite forgettable. Future payment for cypress.

I think this has ceased to be a funny blog, if it ever was. I think now my mood (which was what I said holding it) has been channeled to the mongo on facebook and the occasional drop bullshit when I'm with my friends. I've left it because I do not feel the need to write my feelings, my stories and my stories. Do not know if it's maturity or existential crisis, or whatever you know that shit analytical and labeling of erratic and meaningless. Although good, yeah who have a sense for me, but be classified as psychopathic (never have to neglect the psychological assessment of a former) and bullshit (ditto). I guess I do not need to write for a while. Although what was coming (not) doing for a while. And that's what I'm doing now. Do you understand the dilemma? Never satisfied and never consistent with yourself. And even with that I agree.

Bah, shit existentialist.

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sounds the alarm, open your eyes and look at the ceiling.

two minutes I needed to get up between gummy and stagger to the sink. Brrrr, water is very cold, but I wake up a little more. Less came tumbling to the shoemaker and I pick up the shirts. Always small in shirts and it's called a linguistic distortion inevitable.
get
After short open between cuddle cat and let me do my stretches. One, two, one, two. "Dad, I'm going." But it is still asleep, so do not full and I get the keys. It's 8:30 and I have no desire to go jogging, but I force myself to do it, but not put me as fit as I wanted. You can not beat the status quo and making it your grandmother will cannelloni for a regiment. What can we do, if a child was flabby.

starts to get hot now. One, two, one, two. I know exactly the route, provided is the same one day after another and another and another. I do not want to get out of it but should, because it tires me one day after another and another and another. But I know and I know that is the journey that has cost me prepare, so I do not want to leave. Although you should, just to know he did not want.

One, two, one, two. A lot of people who cross me. Some are at my pace, some faster and some are even running. Me on and on, but I do not notice them. O yes, I know what they say but I do not notice. I like seeing that little moment of your day and feel that they know just to see how they walk, look around and respond. I always believed that you can meet people just to make the first gesture, some say it's the first impression, the more valid. To me, at bottom, seems to me a bullshit, but it's funny.

Finally, I take a shower. And I'm going to class. And give the class. And I come home. And at home, or out. And I'm going to the library and study or not. And I come home. And I eat dinner, and go to bed. But I feel as much bewildered as this morning when I wake up. E

equally alone.