Fabrizio Ulivieri - TrendSetter

  "Perhaps I did not live as I ought to have done." ( Leo Tolstoy) When we speak of death, we have in mind two kinds of death: death in life and death after life. While we are alive, we avoid speaking or thinking about death, as though it were not part of life; we live as if we were immortal. Death after life—as far as we can conceive of it while still alive—can only be imagined, and we begin to imagine it when we start to feel old, when death draws near. Then reality begins to seem unreal, and everything we have experienced up to that point loses its tangibility, its coherence, and its shape. We begin to realise that the life in which we believed no longer exists—indeed, that it never truly existed—and that the only genuine reality is death: the everlasting end of all illusions, all hopes, and everything, great or small, that we have managed to achieve within the span allotted to us. In this way, we learn to die, just as we once learned to live. ---------- Telegram: De Unamu...

  „Galbūt aš negyvenau taip, kaip turėjau gyventi.“ — Levas Tolstojus Kalbėdami apie mirtį, turime omenyje dvi jos rūšis: mirtį gyvenime ir mirtį po gyvenimo. Kol esame gyvi, vengiame kalbėti ir galvoti apie mirtį, tarsi ji nebūtų gyvenimo dalis; gyvename taip, lyg būtume nemirtingi. Mirtį po gyvenimo – tokią, kokią dar gyvi galime įsivaizduoti – galime tik įsivaizduoti, ir pradedame tai daryti tuomet, kai pradedame senti, kai mirtis artėja. Tuomet tikrovė ima atrodyti netikra, o visa, ką iki tol patyrėme, praranda savo apčiuopiamumą, nuoseklumą ir pavidalą. Pradedame suprasti, kad gyvenimas, kuriuo tikėjome, nebeegzistuoja – iš tiesų jis niekada ir neegzistavo – ir kad vienintelė tikroji tikrovė yra mirtis: amžina visų iliuzijų, visų vilčių ir visko – didelio ar mažo – ką mums pavyko pasiekti per mums skirtą laiką, pabaiga. Taip mes išmokstame mirti, kaip kadaise išmokome gyventi. ---------- Telegram: De Unamuno Whatsapp: De Unamuno

  Às vezes, em dias de luz perfeita e exacta, Em que as coisas têm toda a realidade que podem ter "A volte, nelle giornate di luce perfetta e precisa, Ecco che le cose hanno tutta la realtà che possono avere" (Fernando Pessoa) La tua presenza - leggera sembravi E costante andavi tutta la vita. Eterna promessa a me passavi. Non era quella la terra smarrita La terra di mezzo di ora data Era l'unica terra e la mia vita. E lí radicati a noi fissata Tu la carne insegnavi e lo spirito Modellavi di me tu dedicata. Una madre sperimenta il suo debito Al figlio dà vita di stesso sangue Va al presente delle cose suo credito. Ma la memoria fa tempo esangue Si scolora come mai avvenuto Tutto quello hai creduto poi langue. ---------- Telegram: De Unamuno Whatsapp: De Unamuno

  Mi chiedo se un Dio davvero piccino Come l'essere umano così sia Da chinarsi a sua altezza meschino. La miseria dell'uomo nella via Di sua vita molte bassezze chiede Che per un Dio sarebbe sol follia. Un Dio per uffici e riti cede? Pare. In tutta la storia irretito Vedo nella liturgia si concede. Non da altro modo è appetito. Ma davvero un Dio buono è quello Che per darsi deve venir circuito? Rispondere né so e neppure bello Dire che sia quel Dio a noi maligno. Un Dio è di amore a sé sacello. Dio, io spero tu a me sempre benigno E nel dubbio ogni giorno straziato Ti imploro padre - non mai patrigno. Telegram: De Unamuno Whatsapp:  De Unamuno

  I believe there is a single transversal category embracing all those subsistentiae of which Richard of St. Victor writes [ HERE ]: subsistentiae quae sunt illae substantiae quas participare non potest aliquid aliud - those subsistentiae of which each is that very substance in which no other being can participate. It is the category expressed by every human being on this planet throughout his or her life: “Here I am. I exist. Me too.”  The following short story beautifully exemplifies this: Nymphomaniac "Ηθος Ανθρωπῳ Δαιμων" A man's character is his demon. (Heraclitus) Men call me a whore. They say I'm a whore. How simple men's minds are. To them, a woman is either a mother, a sister, a saint, or a whore. I'm twenty-five years old. I've been with about two hundred men. I made love for the first time when I was eighteen. I don't remember all their faces. I don't remember all their names. I remember their smell, though. Their bodies. The pleasur...

  C'è un momento in cui la tua storia Si chiude - se altre insopportabili Diventano alla tua santa boria.

  In my opinion, the philosophy of Nāgārjuna and that of Candrakīrti, his greatest commentator, offer profound help in understanding the true nature of the world in which we live today. एतच्च दुःखमार्या एव विपर्यासप्रहाणे सति दुःखमिति संजानते etac ca duḥkham āryā eva viparyāsaprahāṇe sati duḥkham iti saṃjānate "Only the Noble Ones recognise this as suffering once false views have been abandoned." People who do not question the world do not suffer. Et scientia auget dolorem : καὶ ὁ προστιθεὶς γνῶσιν προσθήσει ἄλγημα — "He who increases knowledge increases pain" (Eccl. 1:18). न अनार्याः विपर्यासानुगतत्वात् यथादर्शनं च पदार्थस्वभावव्यवस्थानात् nānāryāḥ viparyāsānugatattvāt yathādarśanaṃ ca padārthasvabhāvavyavasthānāt "Common people do not recognise suffering as suffering because they are governed by cognitive distortions ( viparyāsa ), lack the vision of things as they truly are ( yathādarśanam ), and take the intrinsic nature of phenomena ( padārtha-svabh...

This is a question Aristotle asked himself. It is clear that Aristotle also recognised the possibility that the dead are in some way affected by what happens to their loved ones among the living. If Aristotle remains ambiguous on this point and does not give a clear answer, Dante Alighieri shows how this connection is very much alive. Let us consider the episode of Cavalcante de’ Cavalcanti in Inferno X, 61–72, where one can clearly see how the fate of the son influences the happiness of the father: E io a lui: «Da me stesso non vegno: colui ch’attende là, per qui mi mena forse cui Guido vostro ebbe a disdegno». And I to him: “I come not of myself: he who waits yonder leads me through this place, perhaps the one whom your Guido held in scorn.” Le sue parole e ’l modo de la pena m’avean di costui già letto il nome; però fu la risposta così piena. His words and the manner of his punishment had already revealed to me his name; therefore my answer was so complete. Di subito drizza...

  Sento che già non appartengo  Più al mondo - solo nella rabbia A lui ancor mi vendo - per il resto Come se non fossi. Tutti i volti Del mio viaggio lungo non sono qua e lontano a un dove senza Luogo trasparente mi consegno E a qualche ultimo istinto d'uomo Per dire "Ehi! Ancora sono. Vivo!" Li ho persi tutti quelli in cui credevo Solo ombre nomi e memorie vacillano Attorno in una folla indistinta vanno Come sudicio maleodorante, porto Loro nel naso nella pelle e fra le gambe Nelle mani nei capelli e nel corpo ovunque. Se Dio non fosse, sarebbe grande L'inganno e disperazione un gorgo senza segni che notte ovunque spande.