The day goes by, the week goes by, the month goes by, the seasons go by, the year goes by. Everything passes. What if, instead of everything, it was nothing? No day, no month, no seasons. Or rather, just one season: autumn. Everything would be a gathering, yellowing, shrinking. Everything would be a pre-winter. Nothing to renew, nothing to hope for, nothing to improve. What would it be? Could we, objectifiers of everything, live in nothingness?
It's the waters of March closing the summer. When March ends, when summer ends, it's time to think about autumn. Autumn: let the leaves turn yellow, the fruits ripen, the air cool. autumn. Think about creating time indeterminate intervals. Create empty spaces in the days. Durable gaps. Impossible production conditions. Investing in the impossible to do, the impossible to achieve, the impossible to think about. autumn. A verb that refers to an unthinkable dimension in the year: the dimension of non-existent places, the dimension of impossible spaces. autumn. Appropriating the saying of an era to say something else, saying nothing. Go beyond the mere representation of the seasons and fall into the world in a splendid coming-to-be of nothingness. Nothing to be. nothing be. Wait for nothing and eat it like a fruit. Desire nothingness and drink it like juice. Blackberries, guavas-nothing, grapes-nothing, peaches-nothing, tangerines-nothing, pitangas-nothing. No fruit, no juice. Juice of nothing. Why is it that, in our world-shaping movements, there is so little room for autumnal nothingness? To fall off the nothings? Is waiting for nothing more difficult than utopianizing an everything? If nothing is expected, what will come? For those who expect nothing, is a little thing everything? What comes with nothing? Autumnal Autumnize. Whoever falls into nothing, becomes everything: scream, death, fright, whisper, cry, laugh, sigh, yawn. When March ends and autumn arrives, why don't we get ready for winter by autumn? Why always this cheering for the uninterrupted activity of a whole? We think of the world as a thing, we think of ourselves, our bodies, as things and, as things, we always want to be other things, other everything. Avoid nothingness, avoid winter, avoid autumn.
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- Gather your fragments together with your Higher Self
- Be amazed by the energies of the autumnal equinox
- Learn to take better care of plants in autumn
- Take advantage of autumn to change your interior
We always want spring, always the tender, the new, the renewal of everything. Waiting for nothing, knowing nothing, making sure nothing. If everything in the world is double, has a movement of becoming, what is the double of nothingness? Nothing times nothing equals nothing? Does a chronicle about the autumnal nothingness differ from a chronicle about the winter nothingness? What changes? Did we exchange juice for tea? Mint-nothing? Mint-nothing? Chamomile-nothing? Is saying nothing still saying? Waiting for nothing is still waiting? Is autumn the nothing still autumn?
