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Do you remember the last time you got a real hug? Over the past year, I can remember four very special hugs.

The first one happened when I was waiting in line to get into the Municipal Theater for a performance by the exceptional musician Maurício Einhorn. After he tried his luck with some people in line, without much success, a homeless man approached me and asked for money. When I offered it to him, he spontaneously gave me a hug so tight that he wrinkled my outfit a little and walked away smiling.

The second hug and the third hug were similar, as they both came from two young women, accompanied by their companions, also homeless. One of them was pregnant and, unlike the man at the theater, on both occasions the ladies asked permission to hug me.

The fourth hug happened when my travel backpack arrived from the dry cleaners. Before putting it back in the closet, I took it out of the plastic bag and the smell that filled the room evoked so many memories… That simple object represented a whole series of experiences lived throughout the year, and without really realizing it, I hugged my backpack. For a long time.

In my defense, I would like to say that the power of small things to release powerful memories and affections has already been the subject of great masters of literature, such as Marcel Proust.

There is a lot of power in small things, in small gestures, in small events, those that seem trivial, but that together are responsible for the largest part of our existence.

In this year that has just begun, I want to wish you many memorable experiences, of all sizes. And, of course, lots of tight hugs.

Happy New Year!

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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Last week a bad cold left me in bed, feeling like I was at the mercy of a relentless wave of congestion and fatigue. It is not the end of the world, I know, but it certainly made the passing of each day feel like a century. In order to find some confort, I kept reminding myself that it was just a temporary setback, and tehre was nothing not do but rest.

During the long days of waiting for the flu to pass, I realized that in these moments of extreme vulnerability, we learn to value the small miracles of everyday life (who would be able to think, outside of the flu state, of the wonders of a decongested nose?). Taking for my own example, we also become much more sensitive to gestures of kindness (or lack thereof).

The heightened awareness of our own fragility makes us more attuned to the actions and attitudes of those around us, whether it is a friend offering to run errands or a stranger showing impatience in a crowded pharmacy. The absence of a helping hand or a comforting word is felt more deeply, while an unexpected act of generosity can lift the spirits to an unimaginable degree.

It is as if the slowing down of our usual routine allows us to truly appreciate the simple pleasures we often take for granted, like a warm cup of tea or the comfort of a cozy blanket. Being aware of both the subtle joys and the shortcomings of human interaction can build a quite profound connection to our environement, shaping our perception of the world long after the illness has passed.

But there is also another connection that strengthens when we are sick: the connection with our own body. Only when we are sick do we really realize all the intricate mechanisms and the amazing processes that keep us healthy and how delicate they are.

Personally, I always considered being sick an alert. It is the way our body reminds us to listen to it and take proper care of it, nurturing and respecting it. A flu, as annoying as it ca be, can also prompt us to appreciate the complexity of our bodies and the resilience of our immune system. It offers us a chance to reflect on the importance of self-care and the need to listen to our bodies.

When we are unwell, we become acutely aware of the numerous small signals and sensations that our body constantly sends us, and that we mostly ignore. We start to pay attention to the subtle changes, the twinges, and the discomfort that we might otherwise overlook in our busy lives. As we navigate through the discomfort, we may find ourselves reevaluating our habits and priorities, considering how we can better care for ourselves.

And last, but certainly not least, going through a cold made me, once more, admire the capacity of this wonderful machine called the human body to heal itself. I have always admired the power of the human body to recover. Even when faced with adversity, the resilience of the human body is a true, yet not completely understood wonder.

It is truly remarkable how the immune system kicks into high gear, working tirelessly to combat the invading pathogens and restore balance within. When it comes down to it, it is all about the immune system, working hard to keep us going strong.

Yes, of course I also thought about all the things I want to do differently from now on, more aligned with a mens sana in corpore sano stance. After all, we cannot avoid catching the flu every now and then, but we can, at least, try to use the experience to become a little smarter.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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Dix pour Cent (“Call My Agent”, in the English version) is a French sitcom released in 2015 that revolves around the lives of talent agents working at a Parisian agency. The plot focuses on the professional and personal challenges they face while representing a diverse array of clients in the entertainment industry.

Throughout its four seasons, the show portrays the intricacies of deal-making, client relations, and the glamorous, yet demanding, world of show business. The first season ends with the following sentence, said by senior agent Arlettte Azémar, played by actress Liliane Rovère:

“When things are not going well, there will always be the cinema“

I really like this phrase, and whenever necessary, I resort to its variant:

When things are not going well, there will always be the music.

For me, this is not just a catchphrase, but rather a profound belief that serves as a key to open the door to a refuge that welcomes me when things are going wrong and the world seems like an incomprehensible place.

It is as if the music becomes a soothing companion, providing solace and understanding when the challenges of life feel overwhelming. Far from being an exclusive privilege of music, this healing element is present in all arts.

I am sure that different forms of art have already provided comfort in challenging situations in your life, just as they have in mine, but I would guess that most times you did not realize that they were the ones doing the trick, crediting you well-being feeling to external factors (the place, the company etc), instead of ralizing the magic was happening in you.

I mena, you do not need to be a painter, or a dancer, or a filmmaker to feel the same way about Painting, Dance or Cinema. Just find a form of expression that is dear to you and enjoy it.

Whether producing or consuming art mindfully, by focusing on the comforting and healing aspects of it, you unlock healing companions, who can be very helpful in seeking refuge and emotional relief. In times of difficulty, it is important to intentionally make space for art to manifest itself as a source of comfort in our lives.

The transformative impact of art during challenging moments comes from its power of providing emotional support and, sometimes, that is all we need.

One way to do this is by setting aside dedicated time for creative activities. It does not have have to be much, it can be minutes or hours, you will find out what works best for you.

Whether it is writing, painting, playing an instrument or simply listening to that song you like (and if you suddenly feel ike dancing to it, even better). Creating a designated space for artistic expression can also help, as it signals to the mind that this is a priority. It can be as simple as choosing a nice place to read a book.

Actively seeking out and immersing yourself in art forms can provide a sense of comfort when the world is being mean to us. It is all about recognizing the value of art in providing emotional nourishment and intentionally incorporating it into your daily life. Every simple gesture counts.

When everything goes wrong, the arts always remain, as a healing source that never runs out.

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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I just discovered (and most probably I am the last person in the world to do so) that the classic film Back to the Future has undergone several cast changes. Even the main character, Marty McFly, was played by an actor other than Michael J. Fox during a few weeks of filming. The footage ended up being discarded, which contributed to nourishing the gigantic memorabilia of the iconic production.

The lead male role of Marty McFly was originally played by actor Eric Stoltz. However, after several weeks of filming, the producers and filmmakers decided to replace Stoltz with Michael J. Fox, who was the original choice for the role. The problem is that Fox was also involved in the sitcom Family Ties and would not have time for filming (the situation would later be resolved simply by doubling the filming routine of the actor, an experience that Fox himself later classified it as “insane”).

The decision of going not taking Stolz was based on the belief that his the portrayal of the character was not aligning with the comedic tone of the film as envisioned. As a result, they had to re-shot all scenes of Stoltz, leading to the final version of the movie that is well-known and beloved today.

Even a person like me, uninformed about the precise numbers of the finantial impact of reshooting weeks and weeks of footage (and let us not forget that they were dealing with the technology available in Hollywood in 1985), understands that the costs involved are immense, and that such a decision can lead to the failure of any project. Therefore, it is not difficult to imagine that no production will go through this, unless ii is absolutely necessary.

But what was the problem with Stolz? According to actors who shared scenes with him, Stolz was a “method” actor, meaning that following his acting rituals was extremely important to him. Examples of his method would include, for instance, being addressed only by the name of his character, not talking (and pretending not to listen) to his colleagues when they were not in a scene with him, and using real physical force (instead of staged moves) during fight scenes.

Since Stolz did not get the job, does it mean that having a method is a problem per se? Not at all! Having a method with rules that impose a deep dive into the character may have been the reason for the success of the previous roles played by Stolz, but it was for sure the cause of his departure from the cast of Back to the Future.

The search for character depth ended up taking the actor too far (and in the wrong direction). By privileging the detail, Stolz lost the sense of the whole. His compreehension of Marty as a tragic hero who ultimately returns to a future in which his family is financially well off, but where he lands as an outsider, certainly added layers to the character, but it also took away much of his charm and humor.

While the approach of Michael J. Fox is extremely humanistic in his fumbling quest to “do the right thing”, Stolz highlighted the futility of any action. As interesting as this “memento mori” version of Marty may seem, it takes a huge step away from comedy and it is no surprise that Stolz was removed from the project.

The biggest problem of Stolz, ultimately, was his method apparently made him a prisoner, instead of helping him. Reviewing from time to time the rules we impose on ourselves can be as important as the method itself, because if the rules are preventing our growth, then they are not rules, but chains holding us back.

No method is equally applicable in all situations, and it will always be necessary to contextualize and to adapt, which reminds me of another story told by the great Brazilian accordion virtuoso and composer Luiz Gonzaga in an interview.

In his youth, Gonzava tried to join the army band, but was dismissed after failing in playing the “E flat” the conductor demanded. At the end of the interview the reporter asked him if in order to be a great accordion player it was really necessary to know how to play an E-flat.

Gonzaga responded between laughs: “Look, to this day I do not know what a E-flat is. I play by ear.”

Be seeing you!

G.F.

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I recently went to a small chapel that is literally across the street from my building. It is a welcoming place, with white walls and a very sober atmosphere, with a wooden roof. The austerity is broken only by the colored light of the stained glass windows. On this day, in particular, there was a celebration of the patron saint and after having lived on the street for more than a decade I thought it was time to check it out.

When I arrived, the place was practically full, but there were still some seats on extra benches placed along the side walls. I adjusted myself as best I could and, despite the need to keep my back straight in a seat without backrest, everything was going well, until a woman stood between me and the extra bench in front, blocking my view of the altar. Without seeming embarrassed, she turned to me and asked: “Do I get in the way?”

I thought it would be a sin to tell a lie in a church and I answered sincerely (taking care to embellish my words with a smile): “It does get in the way, because you are blocking my vision.”

She pretended to move to the side, which meant being right in the middle of the path and, as it would obviously be impossible to remain there, she returned to her starting point, that is, blocking my view. As, at that point, the mass had already started, I resignedly accepted her lack of politeness and thought I might turn my neck a little.

However, I was not prepared for the addiction of my vision to her cell phone. very thirty seconds, like clockwork, she would sneak a peek at the screen. Then, as if that was not enough, she would whip out her glasses from her bag just to read her messages better.

There is no way to dodge that distraction with a mere neck twist, so, once again, I had to muster up the courage to say, “Could you please stash your phone away? I am trying to focus on the Mass” And guess what? She gave me a death glare (yes, in the middle of mass!) and put down her phone, for the most part anyway.

Although much of the sublime experience of the divine was profoundly ruined by this setback, it also gave me a chance to think about the terrible contemporary inability to remain still, and even more so, silent.

In the realm of aesthetics and philosophy, silence often serves as a gateway to the experience of the sublime. Within this context, silence is not merely the absence of noise, but rather a profound and intentional act of creating space for contemplation and introspection. It allows individuals to connect with their inner selves, enabling a heightened awareness of beauty, truth, and the ineffable aspects of existence.

In embracing silence, we not only gain access to a profound form of expression that transcends verbal communication but also open ourselves to the vast realm of introspection and self-discovery. Silence carries the power to convey emotions, thoughts, and intentions in a way that words often fall short of. It allows us to communicate on a deeper, more authentic level, fostering a connection that goes beyond the limitations of speech.

Through the stillness of silence, we can truly listen to our innermost thoughts and feelings, and in turn, understand ourselves and others more fully. This practice can lead to a heightened sense of empathy and a greater understanding of the complexities of human emotions. Embracing silence can be a transformative experience, enriching our lives and relationships in ways that verbal communication alone cannot achieve.

This paves the way for a deeper understanding of the perception experience, creating a sense of awe and transcendence.

In many ways, silence can be seen as a canvas upon which the sublime is painted, as it provides the necessary space for the mind to grapple with the profound and overwhelming nature of the sublime. At the same time, the sublime can also be thought of as a kind of metaphorical silence, representing a moment of profound stillness and overwhelming grandeur that transcends the limitations of language and human expression.

And the lady in front of me lost all of this. What a waste!

Be seeing you!

G.F.