“Everything Is Illuminated.”  Jorge Luis Borges

 “Any life is made up of a single moment, the moment in which a man finds out, once and for all, who he is.”  Jorge Luis Borges    

Flickr photo by Stellablue72

Upon finding a great Author that captures your heart, look further down the rabbit hole to find the writer that captured theirs.   Literature is often a road map of wisdom sending omens and random coincidences to guide you.  I’m always listening and watching for a recurring name or title to seek it out.

I found Jorge Luis Borges in Paulo Coelho’s book Confessions of a Pilgrim.  Paulo shared a story about taking a long bus trip to see Borges in person.  Upon arriving and seeing Borges, he didn’t talk to him or ask him any questions.  He just looked at him and then returned home.  I pondered why he didn’t saying anything to his favorite writer. What stopped him from a hello or hand shake.  Paulo is an avid blogger communicating directly with his fans on a regular basis, so I have a good chance of finding my answer.  I will keep you posted on the results.

In the mean time, I would love to hear your thoughts or theories on why he didn’t say anything. What would you say given the opportunity to meet your favorite writer?

Short Bio on Borges From The Modern Word

Jorge Luis Borges was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina on August 24, 1899. He was always expected to be a writer… He started writing at the age of six, mostly fanciful stories inspired by Cervantes. When he was nine, he translated Oscar Wilde’s “The Happy Prince” into Spanish, an effort which appeared in a local newspaper called El País.”

Poetry Spotlight on Jorge Luis Borges:

“Poetry remembers that it was an oral art before it was a written art.”  Jorge Luis Borges

Flickr photo by kai photography

Flickr photo by Eric Flexyourhead

Instants by Jorge Luis Borges

If I could live again my life,
In the next – I’ll try,
- to make more mistakes,
I won’t try to be so perfect,
I’ll be more relaxed,
I’ll be more full – than I am now,
In fact, I’ll take fewer things seriously,
I’ll be less hygienic,
I’ll take more risks,
I’ll take more trips,
I’ll watch more sunsets,
I’ll climb more mountains,
I’ll swim more rivers,

I’ll go to more places – I’ve never been,
I’ll eat more ice creams and less (lime) beans,
I’ll have more real problems – and less imaginary
ones,
I was one of those people who live
prudent and prolific lives -
each minute of his life,
Off course that I had moments of joy – but,
if I could go back I’ll try to have only good moments,

If you don’t know – that’s what life is made of,
Don’t lose the now!

I was one of those who never goes anywhere
without a thermometer,
without a hot-water bottle,
and without an umbrella and without a parachute,

If I could live again – I will travel light,
If I could live again – I’ll try to work bare feet
at the beginning of spring till
the end of autumn,
I’ll ride more carts,
I’ll watch more sunrises and play with more children,
If I have the life to live – but now I am 85,
- and I know that I am dying …

Flickr photo by xiaming

We are the time. We are the famous by Jorge Luis Borges

We are the time. We are the famous
metaphor from Heraclitus the Obscure.

We are the water, not the hard diamond,
the one that is lost, not the one that stands still.

We are the river and we are that Greek
that looks himself into the river. His reflection
changes into the waters of the changing mirror,
into the crystal that changes like the fire.

We are the vain predetermined river,
in his travel to his sea.

The shadows have surrounded him.
Everything said goodbye to us, everything goes away.
Memory does not stamp his own coin.

Flickr photo by Miceeatcheese

However, there is something that stays
however, there is something that bemoans.

Jorge Luis Borges

In Confessions of a Pilgrim, Paulo Coelho recited one of his favorite poems by Jorge Luis Borges:

I will not be happy now. It may not matter.
There are so many more things in the world.
Any random instant is as crowded
And varied as the sea.  A life is brief, and though
The hours seem long, there is another
Dark mystery that lies in wait for us-
Death, that other sea, that other arrow
That frees us from the sun, the moon, and love.
The happiness you gave me once and later
Took back from me will be obliterated.
That which was everything must turn to nothing.
I only keep the taste of my own sadness
And a vain urge that turns me to the South side,
To a certain corner there, a certain door.

Jorge Luis Borges

Flickr photo by takiostavim 

 

“To die for a religion is easier than to live it absolutely.” Jorge Luis Borges

Related Posts: My response to Ed Varney’s poem titled Happiness

The beautiful & enchanting wisdom of Hugh Prather

 

 

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