Philosophy
Mix Fix
The choir of a storm by Filippo Massariol
A beast with the appearance of a man is about to die in front of a whirlwind that bars his
way. Tormented by anguish, he no longer gives himself peace and feels no longer the master, but rather the slave of his destiny. At that point, the Shadow, a metaphorical figure representing the flow and will of life, comes to him. The storm in this case is only a metaphor, what the man is really fighting with are his beliefs that detach him from self-realization and from the flow of life. And that will continue to return if he does not face them. What the man learns by talking to the Shadow is that difficulties and sufferings are part of life. You cannot rejoice without suffering and you cannot live if you have not died at least once. And so in the end he abandons himself to the storm, accepting his fate. In a more distant time that man will become the author of a great revolution, and he will thank that storm for being part of the existential energy.
:“Yo, I’m coming home now!”- Said the man. He tried to start the engine but it was jammed.
ings? Block the pain, block the confusion, stress and block the storm that is coming here to get me. I wish I had an answer for that. I wish I had “There you are right there, in the middle of a des- a plan B, but I don’t even have a plan A, except to ert with a storm coming in front of you. What just keep going nowhere. shall I do?”- The man murmured to himself. And Fog! Fog was there when all the people from this he remembered how many times he felt the same world decided to get sick? Fog was here when situation even from distant childhood memories. they all went against each other, does it work like He wanted art and artistic inspiration and he that? Like when a cell from your body goes crahad that, sure. But now, how. How to deal with zy and then the whole system does. I can hear it clear, yes, the storm is coming, and now I’m a storm? gonna die as I already did many times. No virus, The brain is so tricky, it can be a garden that no burglar, no hitman has killed me so far, but gives birth to the nourishment of your inner soul. this storm that talks into my head is doing so. I Or it can condemn you, sort of like a death sen- can’t believe I could be so silly. I rode the wave tence, because that’s how it feels. Death, pain, so many times: tsunamis and nuclear disasters! chaos. What are those if not just part of the mel- I found a way out when there was not, but I can’t ody? What can I do to be able to block my feel- make up my mind with this decision. © Picsart
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