This heatwave, this European hell, has once again made it clear to us – if it was necessary, which it clearly is – that we are not prepared. That if heat doesn't suffocate us, rivers do; if the economy doesn't strangle us, an epidemic does; if corruption doesn't asphyxiate us, cynicism does. Europe is the continent warming up fastest, and down here, luckily, we know what heat is, and even if it's unbearable, we have blinds and trained sweat, but up there they have no idea; in fact, they used to come down to seek this heat that they now have at home and that enters through windows and walls designed to store warmth and get rid of cold. But neither the north nor the south are prepared for this 21st century that advances relentlessly like a conquest burning its ships. Because while the thermometers break records and need new digits, the human world is putting out fires, rescuing lives from the rubble in a country where it rains on the wet and awaits new political earthquakes that spark wars and place more dead lives under the remains of disaster. AI also makes us tremble, and we know that, like heat, it is unstoppable. But, like heat, we do not know, want, or can stop it. The good news is that it is a propitious moment for craftsmanship and calm to return. So that everything is done more slowly again and we stop this haste that only makes us sweat.
The holidays are approaching and more and more people tell me they want a quiet holiday, without too many new things or discoveries. In fact, traveling is a cause of stress. It's a joy and a privilege, but it also creates an imbalance, because breaking routines and absorbing so much new information is a lot of work. Although a trip, if no serious incident occurs, usually pays off and leaves you with good memories that appear over the years. It's wonderful to have good memories to rest your head on. You even forget those tedious moments at airports. But without any statistical or even scientific data, the feeling around me is that there is a need, above all, to rest in the summer. Perhaps it is also a need influenced by these heatwaves, that even if you have the opportunity to work in cooler places, the general atmosphere and this heat haze that surrounds us take all your energy. Perhaps I'm only talking about people my age and older. But the truth is that there is a very deep rest in taking holidays in a familiar place. Because FOMO, the fear of missing out on things, doesn't get to you. If anything, JOMO, the joy of missing out, not as an act of resignation but of will. Not having the need to go where you are supposed to go once in your life, nor to read the book that is in fashion or the concert you will miss because you couldn't buy tickets. The joy of enjoying yourself wherever you are with whomever you are. The luck of being alive among the ruins and of being more or less well and of being able to continue sharing moments with partners, friends, flies.
We are not prepared, but we are designed to survive. Even the most helpless. Life is a journey that when it ends you cannot go home. We are observers of misery and beauty, neither optimists nor pessimists. Spectators of this parade of absurdities and wonders; of extraordinary advances and apocalyptic setbacks. Permission is a synonym for holidays. Let's give ourselves it to recover. That, as Brossa said, "And if everything begins to end, everything ends to begin again." Happy summer and thank you for reading me.
