I remember that Christmas I asked my grandfather why Aunt Marta had died. And he only answered me: "Scio me nescire". "What, Grandpa?" "It's Latin, mijita, I just know that I know nothing."
How so I didn't know anything? At least he knew Latin. Also, what was that answer? Not only was he not answering me, but he was leaving me more questions. Can you say something like that? If you say you don't know anything, at least you know that, and that is nothing, then how can you say that? And, ultimately, what is nothing ?, and the death of Aunt Marta, what?
Then I entered school and the number of questions increased considerably. But there I found some firm points that began to guide my interests: the answers must be found by myself; the answers will surely change, but that does not mean that there is not something true and it is important to look for it, to always look for what is, not what seems, not vain, not superfluous, not the ostentation that hides the essential; every corner of existence, every corner of the world has a meaning; Speaking clearly and coherently is necessary to express what one thinks and to be able to understand each other; sometimes (many) it is better to keep quiet, and, above all, you should not settle for the first thing that appears, not swallow whole.
With that concern I have always lived. With that of knowing, that of knowing the truth, that of finding answers to the questions that arise in the situations I live in and that confuse me. That is what I have done. That is why I studied philosophy and from his hand I entered classical philology and discovered that the word is fundamental. Then I fell in love with the idea that there is an original language in which sounds express the essence of what is named - as I had read in Borges' “Golem” at school - and that each language expresses an aspect of the essential, that to know a language is to go into a way of thinking, of knowing and understanding the world and others.
Yes, with this attitude I have always lived and, of course, I have become entangled. Because the dream is great: find the truth, what else? And I have failed, yes, many times; but questioning me always has not let me stay there. I have also wanted to give up, when I feel that the current of the world that does not know what it is and what it is not, that tries to measure everything with the size of success, that makes up selfish motivations with real overtones, when I feel that I do not fit in the models they want to impose on me, when I hear them tell me: "Stop thinking so much and be happy" ... Then the ability to resist and resist that I learned thanks to the austere and demanding education of Jeangros appears: and who said that happiness It is not thinking? Who said that sadness is superfluous?
Thinking is necessary, thinking for yourself is necessary, to get out of the holes in which we enter, to understand the other and accompany him on his way. And I have gone through long self-imposed silences, for the joy of finding the best translation for a Greek word or of understanding the grammar of a new language, for sterile investigations enclosed in myself, for the amazement at the correspondence of grammatical times and the “physical” time, for the naive search for a truth that is immobile and inert, for the satisfaction of accompanying children in their curious exploration of the world, for the fear of not being able to communicate and lose myself, for the fullness of being a mother with the challenge that this implies, for the uncertainty of what it may mean to walk in the negative or meet someone after he has died, for the pain of listening to those who do not find a way out of failure, for the effort to translate authors who they talk about God or men, about being and not being ...
Have you ever wondered if the questions asked make sense? If the curiosity they feel makes sense? Is it worth spending time looking for answers? The meaning of my life has been that. And it has been worth it, because existence is not something immobile, because history does not leave us standing still in a corner, because that is how we discover that there are others around and that we are all in the same search, although sometimes we are not aware of it.