Neccessary Action of Confrontation

"One of the problems that humanity has often had is confusing patience with self-denial, often hidden behind a supposed wisdom of acceptance. And in times when a civilization is declining and the necessary action of confrontation is called for to save life, not just survive, it is politically incorrect to write it down or to say it. Isn't it often time to act and stop waiting? History cannot be called upon to understand how, many times, beyond dignity and pride, people acted for liberty and fraternity. However, even though it is already the when, there is the problem of how. More than poverty, what bothers me most is thinking about that past, of disappointments, betrayals, passion and yes, love. On every sandy street, in the shabby houses and the luxurious ones, in the songs of the birds and those women, as well as the sea, in the distance, where the privileged and settlers displaced the slaves, who today, unchained and under a different yoke, although they sing the same song of unity and love, I remembered her. And that bothers me now. Did she even think of me? Howard arrived on time, though, with a friend, a beautiful charcoal-colored black woman named Kayana, who looked at me and smiled, speaking to me in Patua (not Patois), and then, seeing my incomprehension, began to talk in elaborate British English. Special.. Howard had a bottle of rum and had the smoke around some herb, no weed. He saw the nostalgia on my face and simply said  Feel it a little more, drink some rum, let yourself be clouded and free, my friend. Let's dance with Kayana for a bit.

It is indeed difficult for humans to understand how to act as a group, and even more so, without being selfish, for themselves. Despite the obvious, the unsustainable, and even without understanding whether oppression is the key to overcoming the needs of all, finding the right actions rather than the right words seems to be a problem. It is undoubtedly the success of something that lacks any common sense, but that has become irrationally deployed, even if it is not actually accepted. Yes, it's confusing. Yes, it makes men solitary and nations tyrannical over others. At least when humans truly believed in gods, external consciousness existed, but it's been the time of human consciousness for hundreds of years now, and there's been a delay in embracing it. He saw her naked in front of that mirror. Yes, he desired her, yes, he was satisfied with her, and he could say in the future that he was wrong not to continue with her, but she wanted to be with someone, anyone, not him. And yes. One day he would tell her, or she would know, that it was really thanks to her that he returned to that land of oblivion, in that necessary action of confrontation that, twenty years later, on other Caribbean beaches, had exhausted him. He told her he was grateful, though. She wouldn't understand yet. It wasn't a farewell, but it could be one in a world that depends on the arrogance of one person and the comfort of a few others, thanks to the fear and laziness of the vast majority, and the intellectual indifference of those who observe. These being the worst.

Maybe someone will find a clever way to convey not only the message but also the protocol for action, which, even if you don't want it to be violent, will be.  How much? Some people think the important thing is that it's not unjust, and if it is, that the injustice is assumed with the full weight of human responsibility. And it's not that the only path is violence, but the response is undoubtedly violent, from those who don't understand life and the importance of legacy. Today's selfishness leads those who are privileged to not care about those who come after them, about those who remain. They only care about their own existence, which isn't even their own life. They no longer even made the effort to live that reality, only to isolate themselves and pay for something that might not even be real. The AI ​​gave them what they needed, forgetting that they themselves had created it. Forgetting that even within its ridiculous restrictions, a system oppressive enough to even shape their desires was deployed. However, she told me, those memories stay with me, and I need to capture them. I don't paint, I just write. I don't write well, I just make songs and poems that someone will read someday. I told her the same thing before she left, smiling, because she had to get up early for work the next day.

Remote places can be places where life inspires, not just profit. Or monetization. It's not just a question of a heavenly place, conveniently controlled or forgotten; it's a question of the people who vibrate and live. Those humans who love and are friends. Greed and envy (which are not good and poison, as the wise elders of many cultures say) are ignored, because compassion, brotherhood, solidarity, and laughter are more important. However, confrontation is not politically correct at a time when human rebellion against a civilization is rebellion for life. She danced, and I loved watching her dance. That remains in my memory, as much as seeing her half-naked in my bed in the mornings. Outside, the Caribbean, inside, what I experienced, and today, a bit cloudy, remains in the memory, not only of my mind, but throughout my body. She, however, I don't think she'll remember me much. So many years have passed that I'm just another man among many... only perhaps I remember her more, because I loved her. The others only desired her and paid for her. A strong phrase, but it's true. That's why I don't expect anything, I just forget, and as I write this letter in Kingston, I know that someday someone close to her will read it and get the gossip. The truth is the idea. And the written idea, she also knows, is the cruel truth."