In a few days we will be on vacation. It's a simple trip to see a place we used to call home, visit family and friends, and get away from our normal routines. It will also signify the first time I declaredly will not check my e-mail during a break.

For those not aware of my tendencies with regards to technology, I obsessively look over my e-mail. This happens for a reason - I have avoided many a nasty, or at least inconvenient, surprise by staying on top of things. Yet, when in the past several days my mood has shifted suddenly over trivialities, or I have taken slightly annoying occurrences as personal slights, all of which have made the need to seek a counter-balance to my usual patterns that much more apparent.

The whole experience has reminded me of the idea that in every system there must exist an equilibrium - its lack will show in unexpected and dubious ways. A topic that comes up often in academic culture, and particularly in academic professional publications, the "work-life" balance takes center stage when we find ourselves forced to confront our deepest fear ... that we cannot continue full speed all the time without part of our emotional stability and overall psyche giving in. You can rest assured that I've arrived at that faceless, lonely, and disheartening precipice before (as many of us have and will again) and have no intention of looking out again upon the wastelands its perilous presence engenders. In essence, each element of one's mind must find harmony with its antithesis, and as such within itself.

Miguel Torga hints at the fragile, yet necessary, scale of opposites such an approach warrants in the first stanza of his poem titled "Agora":

Abre-te, Primavera!
Tenho um poema à espera
do teu sorriso.
Um poema indeciso
entre a coragem e a covardia.
Um poema de lírica alegria
refreada,
a temer ser tardia
e ser antecipada

...

The opposing forces of cowardess and courage, of the fear of both arriving expectedly and too late, play into an ambivalence which opens the door to the world's beauty and opportunities for prosperity for the poetic subject.  The former seems more clear-cut, since one can imagine in concrete terms the dichotomy the opposition engenders. The latter, on the other hand, requires a certain pre-existing knowledge of the self in order that its significance contribute to the reader's understanding of the poem's true message. This awareness of fear, and of its illogical, although entirely explicable, existence, offers the poetic subject and reader a nuanced and fulfilling resolution to the conflict the various elements of the poem seem superficially to nurture into a place of doubt and self-loathing. They do not respond to a need, but hint at one.

With this, I wish you a good evening and a restful end to the summer. Have a great night / Tenham uma boa noite / que paséis unas buenas noches.

When you realize you've put something off for too long it begins to gnaw at you. Part of your mind keeps on it until you can't shake it anymore. Then you realize you need to do something about it. So I thought I would share something quick so you know I haven't forgotten about you, and in doing so let you know that I'm back.

Literary themes and the real life they reflect can intersect with readers in concrete and overt ways, and in particular, when they engender a necessary, if not postergated, reaction. Take the following poem by the late Vasco Graça Moura, for example:

soneto do amor e da morte:

quando eu morrer murmura esta canção
que escrevo para ti. quando eu morrer
fica junto de mim, não queiras ver
as aves pardas do anoitecer
a revoar na minha solidão.

quando eu morrer segura a minha mão,
põe os olhos nos meus se puder ser,
se inda neles a luz esmorecer,
e diz do nosso amor como se não

tivesse de acabar, sempre a doer,
sempre a doer de tanta perfeição
que ao deixar de bater-me o coração
fique por nós o teu inda a bater,
quando eu morrer segura a minha mão.

("Antologia dos Sessenta Anos")

At first I found it fascinating that the poet would break up the verses by sub-theme, rather than by the traditional Petrarchan sonnet format of 4-4-3-3. Perhaps it has more in relation with the poetic subject's desire to transmit his message; in doing so the author helps this voice to override a formal demand for the more pressing one of relaying important instructions to the listener. Thematically, death in this poem, in this case the poetic subject's own future passing, occurs not in a vein of shame or in a realization of the self's vanishing, but in a movement into passing toward the object of the poem. What I mean is this: the poetic subject does not attempt to fight nor does he call out to "not go quietly into that good night." Rather, his knowledge of the inevitable happens concomitantly with the awareness that the other person will continue on, giving a part of his own life a place to reside. This ontological perpetuity makes for a comforting feeling when faced with the end of the body. Indeed, our evolving notion of self-worth may  find solace in such a message.

Today marks a month since my daughter has surpassed the age I had attained when my father died. When I look at her and see the innocence and playfulness on her face, I feel fortunate that she had not needed to take my hand in the way that Moura's poetic object took that of the subject's; rather, when she takes my hand it is to cross the street or enjoy a stroll together, or just to see "a mão tão grande do papá". The times we enjoy are not of endings, but of continuing to walk side-by-side for all the years we won't have to miss.

I've put off letting these words into my own mind for too long. Tonight turned out to be a good moment to share them. For those of you in the US, I wish you a happy Fourth of July weekend. For everyone else, espero que tenham um excelente fim-de-semana / espero que paséis un buen fin de semana.