The Void

Some days nothing seems to work. You know when things just don't flow? This is what happened yesterday with me. I was leaving home a little late for my bus and on my way downstairs I felt something was missing. While walking I reached for my pocket and felt the empty space: I had forgotten the book I am reading on my subway rides. I hesitated for a moment before deciding to quickly go back and pick it up. When I finally arrived at the bus stop I had missed it by just a few seconds! And there you go… I knew I had messed up the feng shui of my day: missing that bus, led me to take the wrong train, which, by its turn, led me to the wrong train station.

So, there I was, standing at the wrong station, already super late for my class, when I decided I might as well skip it for the day.
I left the station and started wandering around, thinking about life, when I noticed I was still carrying the book that had caused this small revolution in my Monday morning’s plans. Isn’t it funny how almost every day small things can have an impact on our lives? If I hadn’t decided to go back and pick up that book, I would then be learning the Konjunktiv II. But instead I was now taking a walk.

On my way I spotted a gap in a row of buildings that looked like a square, or better: a garden. It was kind of funny, because it really looked like someone had taken an entire house out of the middle of those two buildings, as easily as someone cuts a piece of cake. And then, the neighborhood, without having anything better to do with the empty place, had decided to make a garden out of it. It reminded me of my hometown, Brasilia, which also has lots of empty spaces. In fact, there are so many empty spaces in Brasilia that I wondered if it could ever be covered with gardens. If that happened, there would be no prettier city. But anyway, I was not in Brasilia. And as far as I knew, I had found the prettiest garden in Berlin. I decided to sit there and enjoy the flowers, feel the sun, and watch the kids running around.

As I watched those kids, I tried to remember how many “books” I had come back to pick up in my life. And how many times those books had taken me to places I had never imagined going… I must confess I couldn’t remember a single one of them. I guess our limited capacity to keep memories makes us erase several of those unimportant decisions that make small revolutions in our everyday life.

One of the children came running towards my bench and hid behind it. And only then I realized those children weren’t randomly running. They were playing hide and seek. So I carefully pretended I didn’t know what was going on with this small fugitive and kept my Monday morning’s thoughts. I guess it is better not to remember everything. We do not have a vocation to be God and carry the weight of knowing everything. And this is good. I doubt those kids would be able to run so lightly if they had to carry all this weight.

This idea became even clearer to me just a few moments later, when I stood up and walked away from the garden. On my way out I could read a sign that explained how that empty space was actually a house destroyed by bombs during World War II. I tried to digest such information. But it was just Berlin being Berlin, and asking permission not to forget its past.

Yes, this is typical Berlin. She is always telling me that her empty spaces have meanings; that her sidewalks have small golden plaques; that her fountains have lists of names from people who were taken away before their time. Yes, this was only Berlin trying to teach my mind that it is not ok to forget everything; that some things should never be forgotten.

And there you go. As I kept walking through Berlin’s perfect sidewalks my mind travelled to Brasilia once more. If Berlin carries the weight of its own heavy past, Brasilia aims for the opposite. She constantly turns our heads to the sky. And everything is so light there that we keep forgetting our recent past which we just started to build. While in Berlin all those empty spaces are there to remind us of things that have been, but no longer are, in Brasilia empty spaces make us think of the future. Emptiness means potential and possibilities.  And all this lightness of having possibilities can also bring weight with it. The weight of the responsibility we have when we decide how to fill them.
And then I couldn’t help but smile, just like I always do when I suddenly see those improbable correlations.

And all became even more special when I realized that exactly one year ago I left the city with no past to the city with too much past. The only city that could add a little bit of heaviness to my twenty-five years of Brasília.

Versão em português

O poder do vazio

Tem dias em que as coisas parecem estar amarradas... Sabe quando o dia não flui? Comigo isso acontece uma vez por mês, mais ou menos... Ontem mesmo, por exemplo. Saí de casa alguns minutos atrasado pra pegar o ônibus, mas no meio das escadas percebi que tinha esquecido o livro que to lendo no metrô... Parei por alguns instantes e decidi que iria voltar pra buscá-lo. Quando cheguei no ponto, tinha perdido o ônibus por alguns segundos! E aí aconteceu... Eu tinha que decidir entre esperar o próximo ou andar até a estação de trem. Mas comigo, quando isso acontece, eu sei que o feng shui do dia já ficou todo embaralhado. E não deu outra! Decidi esperar pelo próximo ônibus, que chegou atrasado. E aí eu perdi o trem, novamente, por alguns segundos. Como peguei o próximo trem que passou, nem percebi que era outra linha, que não me levava aonde eu queria...  E foi assim que eu fiquei super estressado logo de manhã! Parado na estação errada, já com meia hora de atraso, resolvi que não fazia sentindo mais me apressar pra aula. Então, eu iria só pra segunda metade da aula mesmo. Era melhor investir meu tempo em refazer minhas energias.
Saí da estação e fui caminhando enquanto pensava na vida. Olhei pro livro que eu ainda segurava em minha mão. A causa disso tudo. Engraçado como todos os dias a gente está constantemente mudando nossas vidas. Se eu não tivesse ido buscar o tal livro, estaria agora aprendendo o Konjunktiv II. Mas parece que foi mais forte que eu. E agora eu estava aqui. Passeando...
Avistei um espaço entre os prédios que me pareceu ser uma praça ou jardim. Na verdade era não bem uma praça... Parecia mais que alguém tinha tirado uma fatia entre dois prédios. E naquele terreno baldio, os moradores mesmos se empenharam em construir um pequeno jardim, com árvores e banquinhos. Me sentei pra observar umas crianças que corriam pelo sol.
Enquanto olhava as crianças, tentei me lembrar de quantos “livros” eu já tinha voltado pra buscar. E quantas vezes eles já tinham me levado pra lugares inesperados... Confesso que não consegui me lembrar de um sequer. Acho que nossa capacidade limitada de armazenar memórias nos faz apagar várias dessas decisões desimportantes que fazem pequenas revoluções em nossas vidas. Uma das crianças veio atrás do meu banco e se abaixou, rindo baixinho. Só então percebi que as crianças não estavam correndo aleatoriamente... Elas estavam brincando de pique-esconde. Fingi que não tinha nada a ver com a agitação ao meu redor e continuei meus pensamentos de segunda-feira de manhã. Que bom que não nos lembramos de tudo. Acho que não somos – e nem temos vocação pra ser – Deus e carregar o peso de tudo saber. E isso é bom. Se a gente carregasse todo esse peso, duvido que nossas crianças conseguiriam correr com tanta leveza quanto eu estava vendo em minha volta.
E isso ficou ainda mais claro quando me levantei pra continuar meu passeio e fui ver a placa no canto do parque. Lá no cantinho eles explicam que onde havia a pequena praça, ficava uma casa que foi destruída por uma bomba na segunda guerra. Sorri pra mim mesmo enquanto tentava fazer essa informação fazer sentido. Mas era apenas Berlim sendo Berlim e, pedindo licença pra não esquecer seu passado.
É... Berlim gosta de fazer isso. Sempre me diz que seus vazios tem significado. Que suas calçadas tem umas pequenas lajotinhas douradas. Que suas fontes tem listas de pessoas que se foram. Sim, era apenas Berlim, tentando lutar contra minha mente imperfeita que tudo tenta esquecer.
Mas que coisa! Enquanto continuava meu passo pelas calçadas perfeitas de Berlim, comecei a lembrar de minha cidade. Se Berlim nos traz o peso do passado e nos deixa com os pés bem firmes no chão, Brasília se propõe a justamente girar nossas cabeças em direção ao ceu e, em sua leveza, nos esquecemos do passado que ainda estamos tentando começar a construir. Se, em Berlim o vazio me lembra do que já foi e que precisa ser reconstruído, em Brasília o vazio nos remete ao futuro... É aquilo que ainda não veio. E toda essa leveza da possibilidade do futuro também traz seu peso. Os vazios de Brasília nos lembram da responsabilidade que todos nós temos ao decidirmos como vamos preenche-los.
Sorri de novo, como sempre faço quando vejo essas associações improváveis. E tudo ficou ainda mais especial quando percebi que hoje faz um ano que saí da cidade sem passado para a cidade com passado demais. A única cidade que conseguiu colocar um pouco de peso necessário aos meus vinte e cinco anos de Brasília.

English version

Because we are still here, and we still love you.

Portuguese 

- But... So now I have to say that I "loved" her, mom?
- That is right, sweetie - explained the mother, while trying to choose which was the best option for her son to wear at church that sunday: black or yellow shirt?
- But I still love grandma, mom... - said the boy, paying attention to a bird he could see through the window flying outside.
- I know, sweetheart - said the mother, finally deciding that her boy didn't have to wear black. Afterall, who would demmand a propper mourning from a six-year-old... - But now grandma is in heaven... And this is how we have to say now. Whenever someone goes to heaven, we don't say that we love the person. We say that we loved the person. Now take off this dirty shirt, so I can put this new one on you.
The boy obeyed his mother, but didn't stop asking.
- Do you love her, mom? I mean, do you love grandma?
This direct question hit her with all the weight of reality. Her mother was now dead.
- Of course I did, sweetie. I loved her.
- You don't love her anymore? - asked him, looking deeply in his mother's eyes, a bit confused, a bit sad.
- It's not this. It is just the way we say it... She is in heaven now, remember?
- But I am still here. And I feel the love here inside - explained him pointing to his chest.
The mother was touched by that... Actually his confusion made sense. She still loved her mother.
- I feel it too, sweetie. I guess you are right. I do love her.
As he heard his mom saying this, he smiled again! And he raised his arms to his mother, asking for a hug.
- So let's say goodye to grandma, mom! And let's tell her we love her!
And his mother hugged him, with tears rolling from her eyes.

To Dione. Because we are still here, and we still love you.