The necessary violence

I spent some time to choose the right terms so the “necessary violence” is not a nonsense. I still have to figure out if that’s the case.

Here I can only speak about the fact that pushed me onto this subject.

I was visiting an aunt of mine and there was also another aunt with her daughter, my cousin N, that was, at the time, sixteen or so. I was twenty.

Both my aunts were out and my cousin and me, we were at home trying to kill each our own time. The condo of my aunt was at the ninth floor and, sometimes, was worth to stare at the landscape. Or that I was thinking she was doing. I was not so wrong. She was riding the balustrade of the balcony with one leg hanging in the void and with the other on the inside of balcony not touching the floor. She had lived all her life at the countryside, climbing trees and riding horses, but now she had put herself in a danger never seen before, humming something and paying no attention to the height. She was staring at some different landscape, indeed.

Never, until then, I had felt the terror on an imminent danger. With the sweetest and neutral voice, I called her inside to ask her something. After I have her getting inside and locked the door to the balcony, I beat her up, shouting out on the stupidity of what she was doing.

When her mom return was the second, and the bitter, slice of the “cake”.

Since then, when we meet each other she still recalls, with a smile and little embarrassment, about that scene.

As we should already know, the memories are stored because of the feelings and not of the reason. Bad and good feelings are longer kept as memories. The mistakes that we make, and the feelings that come along, keep the fresh memories up and push us to continuously improve our experiences.

The learning curve is steeper if the feeling is stronger.

And the fear is a very good teacher.


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