If there is something we can reproach progress for is having weakened human beings in terms of self-control. The virtuosity of machines, our high-tech prodigies are useless if humanity does not come to terms with those things it cannot change: attachment, suffering, mortality.
Veronica Vega’s diary
When the decades of the 70s and 80s in Cuba are termed the “innocent years”, I can’t help feeling a passing shadow, remembering the official “repudiation” of those who had the courage to confess that they didn’t feel satisfied with the shared poverty nor with the simulation of freedom.
I want to talk about this sensitive issue that people leaving comments mention: What have we ordinary Cubans done to get out of this mess? Why don’t we protest the low wages, price gouging, poor product quality, deteriorating education or medical care, lacking public transportation, etc.? Why is the solution still a raft or a visa?
If I said that my country’s dysfunctionality has afforded me great opportunities for spiritual growth, most would think I’m being ironic. However, it’s true. The slings and arrows that daily put my patience to the test (and even my physical condition) vary from…
I am interested in joining the debate sparked off by the post “Uniformophobia” through this post – not because the author of the article in question is my son (who can answer for himself) but because of the criticisms one reader levels at his parents.
What would humans be like without the ability to “edit” their memory, preventing neurosis and depression? Although, according to psychologists and psychiatrists, many mental disorders are caused by wounds buried in the depths of the subconscious.
Lately, I seem to sense a light breath of optimism in the official slogans, something of an attempt at modernization, like this slogan that I’ve seen on several Havana billboards: “NEW CHALLENGES, NEW VICTORIES”.
After watching Away From Her, a touching film about Alzheimer’s disease, that mysterious and devastating affliction whose depredations I’ve experienced up close, I can’t help ask myself whether everything else in life isn’t governed by a similar, fatal destiny.
While reading the article “Love in Times of Indifference” posted by my friend and colleague Warhol P, I find myself talking to him in my head because we live at opposite extremes of the city and neither of us has a home phone or a cell phone, much less internet service.
Watching Cuban filmmaker Tomas Gutierrez Alea’s legendary Memories of Underdevelopment (1968) with my son, I somewhat cynically mused that the author of the novella on which the film was based, Edmundo Desnoes, could have said much more on the subject – hell, he could have written a whole saga and even a soap opera.