At the end of this race, tired and smiling because we crossed the line still right and healthy, we will realize how big our home has been. In the midst of new recipes, cleanings scheduled for more than a decade that finally come true, last-minute discoveries with regard to clothes, we are occupying and getting to know our house better. And our home is us.
Before quarantine, the house was already full. It has been, with what we have brought over the years. Whether it is taken care of or not is another matter. We are doing the best we can. But it is full. Our home is our problems, our anxieties, our sorrows and joys.
How many times have we heard phrases like: "I don't bring home work problems." For today we live and will live a new phase of our days. Work at home. Learning to respond to appointments, stick to schedules and, once in a while, send a colleague for a walk on the big billiards while sideways we notice that the kid does not delay send a vase to the floor. It is a new day-to-day, it is a new world.
Today's challenge will be to separate and manage to arrange moments within the same space. The professional moment and the personal moment. Understand that after you get a pan, you have to meet with Paula do Marketing; that after brushing your teeth, you have to close accounts; and that after the Sherlock having gone to the street, we must tell Fátima to proceed with the protocol for the client. It is a new life, a new way of being.
On top of this, our house is gaining space and gaining other memories. On top of this, our time, our thoughts, our tears and our screams. On top of that, the last-minute laugh. On top of that, a storm to take care of. Our house will be the lighthouse and the waves. Our house will be the calm waters of a port and the engine of the boat, rest and travel, calm and change.
The other day I read an author talking about Pascal as a philosopher and boredom theorist when he said that all of humanity's problems stem from the ability of the human being to sit quietly alone in his room. When I shared this phrase with friends, many responded: “Clearly Pascal had no children, otherwise the conversation would be different”.
Well, leaving aside the appeasement of discourse, it is an affirmation that aims to show us a very concrete reality: our difficulty in being calm. Not all, it is true, but a large part. And even those who get the most out of their home and find deep pleasure in meeting their home, are able to approach another trend. The tendency towards discomfort is great. For discomfort, for inertia and above all for silence. I've written about silence several times and this is always a good time to say so.
The world is breathing when collected. This strange and invisible thing is showing realities that are very visible, palpable or even audible. The silence in our homes is the song of birds. Human confinement is the propagation of nature.
And here we are at home. There are those who have a garden, a terrace, some who don't even have a balcony. There are those who have to take about a hundred steps from the living room to the kitchen and there are those who do it in two. Some are brighter than others, it doesn't matter. Our house is our size. It's our mansion. A house where everything fits, from work to love, from routine to leisure in all its splendor. Our home is now a time and place. It has to be ventilated.