Every day, to a greater or lesser degree, a lesson. Sometimes, an expansion of awareness through study. Other times, observing people and their interactions offers very rich information. Now and then, a dark cloud lets me broaden my repertoire of responses. And, almost always, I learn in the dialogues I take part in. They bring me light. The walk is rich.

I am fully aware that this learning, far from romantic, comes from a decision of awareness: to be present, to trigger different choices at different moments.

Seeing through the fog of the frenzy of the days we live is not something that fits in a self-help manual, like “ten ways to gain awareness.” I fear these quick, magical solutions, because sometimes it seems to me that, instead of removing layers of opacity, they add new ones. And the person, under the illusion of making contact, will do so through one more layer of self-deception.

Awareness presupposes knowing oneself: the life journey so far, its impacts and the resulting behaviors. It presupposes understanding oneself and one’s reasons for being and for living together.

Much of the information needed for this process of recognition is not available for quick, immediate access in explicit memory. So the willingness to seek it must be allied with the unforeseeable risk of unexpected answers, which lie in unknown corners.

The care of observing ourselves can be carried over to a careful look at other people, validating their stories and, above all, listening to them. I think the mystery of the bond between humans passes through here, a theme that has inhabited my mental condominium these days.

It is striking, the moment when the relational field between two people lights up with understanding: the translator of meanings present, mediating the encounter, and each person’s focused attention, validating and recognizing the other. The dialogue flows, unhurried and without the abrasion of competition or comparison; in these moments, people experience the sweet delight of complementarity.

It is natural to think of the misery of relational fields that are stages of violence of every kind, from the barefaced lie to physical violence, passing through each station of the horror of psychological games or power plays that fill the space generated by ignorance.

The dread I feel on seeing or learning of such situations is as intense as the pleasure of taking part in the fluidity between people or of watching it happen. Whatever purposes move people in abrasive relational fields, it is as if they were in complete absence of light while living one of the most intimate human activities, which is conflict.

Seeing people chosen to look after the public interest using violence as a method, as a strategy, as a way of life, is appalling. They were expected to debate (even if vigorously) the collective interest, well-being, the surviving of citizens.

The inelegant, sterile dueling inflames the fabric of coexistence and (worst nightmare) people, lost in their own shadows, feel represented and authorized by public violence. It is curious.

In seeking to defeat the other, the person loses control of themselves and surrenders, handing over (sometimes to strange hands) control of themselves. Then they do not see, do not notice, do not qualify. Through abrasive relationships, loneliness becomes their companion.

On one side, the bond; on the other, the conflict. Between the two, myriads of choreographies of living together, each one an attempt to dodge loneliness. For those who want to learn while living, they are precious opportunities to value the journey. And to seek and nourish bonds.