Borges. The Person, the Übermensch

Watching Borges, I cannot but be struck by his extreme graciousness, his humor, his honesty, his lack of pride, and his magical smile. (Here’s the interview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj4kajdoSfc&t=3826s&ab_channel=EDITRAMA)

There I see a lover of the world without hatred, envy, or the natural tensions of the lover; no chip on one’s shoulder, or apple above one’s head. A confidence that allows for sincerity, even when sincerity creates an appearance of weakness, a weakness through which strength, wisdom, and courage emanate. As they say, “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”

“I believe that the one who hates is destroying himself… so hatred really turns against oneself. That is why it’s convenient not to hate.”

A certain common sense fills Borges’ words, a common sense that does not make banal the meaning of the sentence, but allows it to radiate all the more. It’s not cliché, for the cliché is never common-sensical, but mendaciousness that dresses itself in common sense’s clothes. As common sense, the words are devoid of high philosophical flourishes (though Borges is certainly capable of speaking in grandiosities), but gains all the more in the universality and pathos of simplicity, like those most ancient of poems, where art reigns supreme against sophistication. There, everything seems to be at ease, like listening to my Grandpa, the universal Grandpa of humanity, on a Sunday afternoon in our garden—just listening, feeling his kindness and clarity, those two beautiful gifts that time bestows, along with the autumn breeze.

And el fin, there’s in Borges that touch of Amor Fati that’s both resignation, acceptance, and movement.

“No, I am not Schopenhauer.”

“You’re Borges.”

“Well yes, and what are we going to do?”

If there exists an overman, he would be like Borges. Not someone who, in hatred for humanity, makes flamboyant proclamations and thinks himself higher for those fatuities, but the one saturated with gelassenheit, that repose within oneself. The one who uses the simplest words and uses them wisely; the one who does the easiest thing and does them well; and the one who smiles, and smiles magically, with that smile which justifies everything, anything at all, however and whatever.

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