03-31-2011, 12:00 AM
“I am happy that you finally asked me about my controlled folly after so many years, and yet it wouldn’t have mattered to me in the least if you had never asked. Yet I have chosen to feel happy, as if I cared, that you asked, as if it would matter that I care. That is controlled folly!”
We both laughed very loudly. I hugged him. I found his explanation delightful although I did not quite understand it...
"With whom do you exercise controlled folly, don Juan?” I asked after a long silence.
He chuckled.
"With everybody!” he exclaimed, smiling.
"When do you choose to exercise it, then?”
“Every single time I act.”
I felt I needed to recapitulate at that point and I asked him if controlled folly meant that his acts were never sincere but were only acts of an actor.
“My acts are sincere,” he said, “but they are only acts of an actor.”
“Then everything you do must be controlled folly!” I said truly surprised.
"Yes, everything,” he said.
“But it can’t be true,” I protested, “that every one of your acts os only a controlled folly.”
“Why not?” he replied with a mysterious look.
“that would mean that nothing matters to you and don’t really care about anything or anybody. Take me, for example. Do you mean that you don’t care whether or not I become a man of knowledge, or whether I live, or die, or do anything?”
“True! I don’t. You are like Lucio, or everybody else in my life, my controlled folly.”
I experienced a peculiar feeling of emptiness…
We both laughed very loudly. I hugged him. I found his explanation delightful although I did not quite understand it...
"With whom do you exercise controlled folly, don Juan?” I asked after a long silence.
He chuckled.
"With everybody!” he exclaimed, smiling.
"When do you choose to exercise it, then?”
“Every single time I act.”
I felt I needed to recapitulate at that point and I asked him if controlled folly meant that his acts were never sincere but were only acts of an actor.
“My acts are sincere,” he said, “but they are only acts of an actor.”
“Then everything you do must be controlled folly!” I said truly surprised.
"Yes, everything,” he said.
“But it can’t be true,” I protested, “that every one of your acts os only a controlled folly.”
“Why not?” he replied with a mysterious look.
“that would mean that nothing matters to you and don’t really care about anything or anybody. Take me, for example. Do you mean that you don’t care whether or not I become a man of knowledge, or whether I live, or die, or do anything?”
“True! I don’t. You are like Lucio, or everybody else in my life, my controlled folly.”
I experienced a peculiar feeling of emptiness…