Not long ago I’ve read a very good poem about the fear and now, while listening to the symphonic poem n· 29 of Rachmaninov, and remembering what I’ve been reading about Mary, queen of Scotland, “the fear” as a belonging, occurs to me. Do you have twenty dollars? Do you have fear? Let’s agree that it could be a question of a degeneration of the language, but normally nobody says: Do you feel fear? No. The verb that is used is to have. Since then that sounds pretty logic the phrase of losing the fear , because of course, following the logic one loses what it has, not what it feels.
But: what is that one has but what it feels? Then: is it possible to lose the tenderness or the rancor as the fear? Is it possible, as Pink Floyd, to be remaining comfortably lulled with the feelings more and more anesthetized blurred of its primary colors? I am sure that it is possible, as I am sure of the opposite process. That is to say, that we can gain fears, resentments, even emptiness and darknesses, which the palette of the human soul can be of many tones. The joke is in the game of dependences that begin to play for everyone.
Returning then to the thing of the “divine treasure”, it doesn’t stop sounding in my head the famous phrase “the best years of my life”. And look, I that I have sold so many things, some of them excellent, some of them rustic, I understand that people sell themselves for what they know – meanwhile it is capable of teaching, or transmitting somehow that knowledge- and for what they feel, because both things are tied. In this way, one puts price to what one is as a company, because this is finally what one has to sell, nothing else.