Start over again

I have forgotten where or when it was that I first met the structure of a wave. Probably I did not think about the similarity between them and life. But now, this is interesting.

Waves are everywhere. They are oscillations that travels through space and matter transferring energy. Structurally, waves are formed by cycles (red arrow), which are determined by crests and throughs. These terms mean the maximum and minimum value within a cycle, respectively. Waves are everywhere, from the sounds we hear, the communications, medicine, to the colors we see. However, no matter where they are, they always display the same structure: energy that moves infinitely up and down (between crests and throughs), over and over again. And here we have another great metaphor about life: it is all about cycles. Up and down. Like waves, after each through (which could mean bad times), everything starts again. The wave starts to return to its original shape, to reach the top and go down again and so... But what really matters: you can't corrupt the structure! After a crest, it will come a through. After a through, it will come a crest, again. No choice. It is a rule of nature.

I believe it was Maquiavelli who wrote once that humans live in cycles: when they reach the highest point of civilization and progress, and in the event of it not being possible to improve more, the only possible thing to happen is to get worse. And then again, when societies reach their most miserable point of their existence, it not being the option to get worse, they have to improve. It is a must. It can't be helped. Cycles. Like waves. Crests and throughs. I was thinking about it because my days here have been plenty of ups and downs, and I have been trying to figure out the meaning of each 'descent'. And now, I think it is simply about letting go.

Every through brings something we must let go in order to get back up. And it's not the easiest thing to do, especially since we are a species that tend to create bonds with everything. We love people, things and actions and we want them all with us forever. But the secret (and hard thing) is just to let them go, and this relates to my previous post about time. We have to get used to the fact that we can't control it! Your hair will fall, the ice cream will melt, you will leave your place, people will die, your beloved will find a new love, right-wing extremists will still gain support, the winter will come and so... like it or not. Get over it. Like the structure of waves, non-breakable, uncontrollable... every through will bring something with that you will have to let it go in order to continue with your life, in order to reach the next crest. Like cards in a game of chance, you won't be able to change them but to use them in your benefit.

You could certainly ask yourself what sense makes to live if you know that everything is finite and that after every crest you are going to face a through. Well, at least for me, it is all about how we understand time. If the climb was worth it, you enjoyed the crest... who cares about the through? I mean, you need some bad times to notice the good ones! We are here to learn, and every cycle translates into learning. If this were your last cycle, would you dare stop doing something to save it for the next one?



In this exact moment, 4.31 A.M, I look through the window to see the moon of New York City pale and veiled with filmy clouds. For some reason, I can't sleep. There was a premonitory change in the atmosphere today, a quickening of tempo, an increased volume of sound. I am probably about to face a 'through'. Maybe it is time to let something go. In the phantom gleam of dawn I can see a new ascent. And there I go.

Rolling camera

I was so filled with the thought of coming to New York that I could think of nothing else... and yet this moment of arrival has come and gone, I have scarcely sensed its passing. But I am starting to get accustomed to the fact that time will fool us again and again so, quite mindless of the future, the last weeks I have surrendered myself to the flow of time, and it started to pay off.

I'm just about to become a film camera. Since I am here, I have almost spent more time with a camera than with my pillow, seriously. And it has been majestic: I was able to experience firsthand what so many great cinematographers have felt since the very beginning of cinema. Loading the camera with rolls, checking for speed, measuring light with a light meter... those actions sound nowadays nearly archaic. In fact, as a member of the Generation Y (also called The Millennial Generation), sometimes it is difficult for me to figure out that there is no chip in those cameras, that everything is mechanical, that getting the image is just a matter of light physics and chemistry. Amazing. But what made me sit down and write today is what happened in the middle of a party in a patio in Brooklyn. I was sitting by a little fire drinking sangria when I had this epiphany that made me understand life from a new and deeper perspective: I saw my life as a film camera. No kidding! Now comes the explanation:

Film cameras use rolls of film stock to capture images. The camera I have been using, an old german Arri designed by the Hitler government in the 40s, uses rolls of 100 feet, each one with enough footage to film about 2 minutes and 50 seconds at normal speed. After filming, to 'discover' what it was filmed, the film needs to be developed. I know, it is a process. It takes time, but especially, it costs money ($$$). And a lot! Filming is so outrageously expensive that I now know why the digital market is devastating film industry. When the camera is rolling, the film inside makes a beautiful noise as it runs through the mechanism that allows the light to enter and expose it. That noise means that film is being exposed, so every time that I film a scene with an Arri, I take care of everything that I can control before starting to roll and I cut in time because I don't want to waste footage, which translates into time and money.

So, let's go back to the party in Brooklyn. I was sitting there, alone, sipping my sangria calmly, my head plotting a million revolutions per second, when I started to hear in my mind the familiar noise of the camera rolling. And that feeling that comes out when the camera is rolling but nothing is happening in front of it and you know you are wasting film... that's called desperation. I kind of despaired, and I told a friend about my feeling. I felt that I had to make a change. However, he barely managed to nod and then said: "You are right, let's grab some drinks". I don't think he understood, but anyway it became clear to me.

The point is that with film, it is evident the feeling of wasting it because it costs money and when you have to pay for it, it hurts. But what about my life? If it was a camera and time was a film roll... shouldn't I be taking care of every time that the 'camera' rolls and nothing happens? Why is it so difficult to understand that time is finite like film and it is also valuable enough not to waste one iota? I am glad I have been working with a camera enough time to get this metaphor.

Now I know how it feels to waste film (and life). And I'll try not to let myself feel that way ever again. You should too. And if it is too difficult to understand, you can always get an Arri, film stock and try it yourself. In the end, life and cameras aren't that different at all.