RIEN ...!!!!!! NOTHING...!!!!!!!

They know that I know that they know nothing!!!!!!

 That was the famous answer that a friend, actually a very close friend, gave me a few years ago when I asked him why he suddenly was not being considered for an important position anymore, or for a new job, or for even for a guest appearance just when he was reaching his highest level of competence, the total control of his potential.

He added: We live in a world where nobody knows anything or even tries to learn anything… It seems that knowledgeable people are looked at with distrust, with contempt and almost with hatred….
Some people turn their backs when they see them, or ignore them ,or act sometimes as though they don’t recognize them or even know them…
They are disturbing the new order of things, they are preventing the world from functioning according to new rules they have set up, they are pushed away from all possible important decisions…
It seems that today to get ahead in the new society, in politics, in business, or in the arts, you must know NOTHING for the terrible reason that you should not and will not bring with you an old world, old methods, or an old style.
They believe that the less you know, the more inventive you can be, the more creative and the more adequate you are in order to fit in with the surrounding mediocrity and that then you will bring new ways.

My friend may have been bitter or dissatisfied by the turn of events in his life or couldn't admit that a time comes when we have to accept to put our weapons on the table, look at the changing world with a smile of tenderness or with a wink meaning ” I know, I was there before”.

But recently his statement came back to me very vigorously, and I am asking the same questions because the world we are living in seems to be more and more in realm of his thoughts…

 Or perhaps because I am becoming like him.

NOTHING!!!!

It seems that today to know or to have references based on history is obscene and against the new world…
We find individuals in key positions with no experience, no culture, no background, no desire to improve and they believe this is inventive, and that by acting this way, the followers, the ordinary men and women will feel safe and will accept their so called great ideas to reinvent the world and will even protect them.

I remember the time when someone who was a real leader in ANYTHING was the one who had the gift to surround himself with people who knew more in their department than he did. The leader knew enough about every aspect of his work to be able to discuss with his associates….and then the leader could make the final decision, have the last word and under his guidance everyone would go ahead in the right constructive direction…

It seems that now, too often, things function the opposite way, everything is filled by a crowd of people who know nothing led by somebody who knows even less, and everybody navigates floating in the mirage of appearance. 

And these people with no experience or background or knowledge and worse without the desire to learn, lead other people…

This system has created the so-called new way of looking at things. We no longer try to understand human feelings, human souls, human hearts, social dramas and joys, relationships, we just disguise all this by a so-called new approach attempting to reveal a new way of understanding.

In my profession, this situation may be the worst…I sometimes find myself guilty of falling in this trap… and we see more and more, actually almost as a rule, some truly unbelievably silly things…
The child of Butterfly in the Puccini opera is a puppet, Scarpia is Mussolini or a Maffia boss from the suburbs of Palermo, the chorus of Manon is a bunch of people dressed in tuxedo instead of the popular crowd of Paris, the men in Rigoletto are disguised and made up as lady bugs and I have seen some operas set in toilets or in a subway or anywhere except where the story dictates … and the list is infinite…

In order not to be “passé”, in order not to be considered as a “routine”, they have to become irrelevant and even silly.

When we go to the Louvres Museum in Paris, do they distribute special glasses at the entrance, so we can see the painting of LA GIOCONDA in red and blue, or in three dimensions?
Is The THINKER by RODIN dressed in a military costume in order to make him relevant to our times?
What if we were projecting on a Rubens painting the images of the red Sea?
What if we were translating a novel by Goethe in the strongest English slang?
What if we were listening to a Beethoven Symphony performed by some rappers?
What if pasta was cooked on a grill?
What if cars had 3 wheels?

A friend sent to me recently a copy of this letter sent by Beckett in 1973


Beckett was not always the genius we believe he was…
While he was my god, my inspiration and my intellectual guide in the sixties, I met him in 1967 in Paris, and it turned out being the most incredibly disappointing experience of my life.

I spent 2 hours with him and another friend, the actor Lucien Raimbourg who created the part of Estragon in Waiting for Godot….
I have related this encounter in my book “The Shattered Sky”. It was indeed a low moment, but life taught me later that Beckett was just a man and should not be put on a pedestal, there is Beckett the writer of genius and Beckett the man.

The following words are screamed by Faust before he called Satan…

RIEN… EN VAIN J’INTERROGE EN MON ARDENTE VEILLE LA NATURE ET LE CREATEUR, PAS UNE VOIX NE GLISSE EN MON OREILLE UN MOT CONSOLATEUR.

NOTHING…

IN VAIN I QUESTION IN MY SLEEPNESS NIGHTS NATURE AND THE CREATOR, NOT ONE VOICE WHISPERS IN MY EAR A COMFORTING WORD.

And He adds: “Nothing…I see nothing, I know nothing, nothing, nothing.”

He tried all the good ways and the purity of asking questions, he tried the innocence of Knowledge, and he tried to be respectful of his culture and his belief...

 and the result was… HIM screaming:” nothing “

So, he turned the other way, and called in the devil…

Can we say that we are living in a similar period? We have to try Satan in order to continue to exist?

But of course we will use a new way of calling Satan …reinvent everything, recast the basics of our world, recreate human relations, political order, artistic values?
And should we believe that the silly and dangerous period we are living is only a moment, hopefully a transition?
And soon, we will be ourselves again….I don’t know what anymore.

But we need to try to live in these surroundings and with these new laws of our society.

THEY KNOW THAT I KNOW THAT THEY KNOW NOTHING…

Do we have to lie? 

 Do we have to fake? 

 Do we have to disguise ourselves in order not to be transparent and then play the games?

Can we be transparent and show what we know and be ignored and lose all opportunities of making progress in our profession or in life? 

Can we spend our entire life denying the changes, negative for us, to protect ourselves? 

Until when are we going to ask questions about this and that because we do not understand the mechanism of the new society?
Will we perpetually wonder why this one or that one is more successful when we believe we are better, we know more, we are more talented, more dedicated, more anything and everything?

How can we deal with those who are pushing us aside because we know?
What choice do we have?
Should we lie to ourselves?

Should we decide that we know nothing!
Should we melt in the surrounding mediocrity and when we are in a position of power or when we reach the desired point of our life, be back to ourselves and show THAT WE KNOW??????

By doing that taking the risks of losing other possibilities of achieving more or even continuing in our successes?

Or should we persist in our truth and become a Pariah?


I LET YOU DECIDE.

La parole est d’argent mais le silence est d’or..... Words are silver, but silence is golden…

This line of another time means nothing today!!!

It seems that yesterday I was still walking in the streets of Philadelphia or Antananarivo or Paris or Dakar or Taipei …I don’t like to walk in cities anymore, and when I was younger I loved that so much… There is nothing left to discover, to see, only the surrounding mediocrity, the poverty… and  people wandering without knowing where they are going, who they are or what they really want … 

What happened to the dreams of happiness and the dreams of an equal society full of purpose and aspirations?

Words are silver, but silence is golden

In today’s world, it is accepted, no actually it is the only way to function: close your eyes, your ears and shove your tongue in your throat in order NOT to say what you believe could be the wrong choice, the wrong decision, the wrong behavior… 

BUT WRONG ACCORDING TO WHAT??? I don’t even know, it seems that no criteria is in order anymore.

SILENCE IS GOLDEN: Let people choose perpetually the wrong individuals for different responsibilities in order to obey today OBLIGATIONS, all based on what they believe is to be fair…. Fair to what? Fair to whom?

I cannot believe that some regimes 50 or 60 years ago were considered as PUBLIC ENEMIES,  and today  we do worse… we base our decisions for employing , casting, hiring on everything except work ethics, real talent,  knowledge or devotion.

Enough with that!!!!!

We are now afraid to offend anybody and everybody by having opinions or expressing judgments….The world around us does not want US to be able to think, to create, to exist… 

All is happening as we should be dead…Or we should be sitting in an armchair in a retirement home or community and look through the window at the emptiness around us…

We should look at the nonsense of life, we should contemplate what has not existed for a long time in order to justify everybody’s opinion and behavior or we should respect with no opinions the youth of some, their ambition to be, even though they still do not know enough…

 Finally we should stop existing by being Silent and understanding of everybody.

We should be able to live in denial, we should be like them and sometimes worry about the disease or the death of somebody, in order to prove that we have feelings, we have a soul, and we know how to be a good person.

But most do not know or actually refuse to see that the world should not and cannot enclose us in the silence of the semi-death. The silence of acceptance, sometimes the silence of old age, the silence of the false peace of the soul….

We always have the strength to tame life, we should always  have a creative knowledge and the desire to act… 

We were and still are even if the majority is not and will not be…We cannot be satisfied by letting life leading us by the nose, no, not even life, but the irrelevant events of life …

Those who want to make us live in the silence have the nerve, the effrontery, and the blinding attitude to believe that they are superior and in charge of our destiny…

 If we try to be, we become UN EMMERDEUR DE PREMIERE CLASSE, A ROYAL PAIN IN THE ASS, preventing them from dictating as they look at us with impatience, trying to find a weakness, expecting a misstep and ready to send us to the doldrums…

They want us in bed at night, content to still be alive, happy to have good leaders and they force us to be attentive to the small problems of everybody around us in order to justify our humanity…

Today it’s snowing…I have seen snow very often…I do not like it…It creates a false impression of purity all this immaculate white, a false impression of quietude, of unexpected silence, a piece of white velvet protecting our wounds.

 Julien (Julien was the main character in my novel “The shattered sky”) walked often in the snow, and for the past 45 years he has been walking on the white velvet extending on his wounds trying to redo what was not… he is still walking since the sky was vaguely glued by all these years trying to finalize what never started.

The shattered sky has changed sky…I look at Julien and I forgive him… He is no longer that child full of anger…He doesn't want any more to assassinate the truth any more, he wants to reinvent the truth.

 The truth? The truth of what? Of the lies of imagination? The Truth of the unfinished fantasies? Forty five years since the corner of a blue sky in Paris…

Forty five years??? Did wisdom take over my self-destruction? Does wisdom leave some bitterness on the truth? Is that the reason why some people like the snow? Because snow covers the bitterness of the truth?

Julien you are now far, lost in the uncertain memories, in the memory of the lost senses, but I keep for you a tenderness full of bewilderment… Surprised to see that you are no longer, you are someone else, built by life and shaped by others…You too have disappeared in the fog of life, in the path of life called existence…You have disappeared recreated by the look of others, you became someone else…

Julien are you still capable of reshaping the world? Can you rethink it? Or do you also accept the fact that it is impossible to be yourself? Are you finding refuge in the cocoon of silence?

LE SILENCE EST D’ARGENT MAIS LA PAROLE EST D’OR

They always want to know: Is this all truth? Is your life true? Is it true? True? What does true mean? What is the TRUTH? Everything is the truth, and all is invented…There is only one truth, the one we want…

You have a tormented soul…A tormented soul? Not at all… Only a mind trying to understand the meaning of all this, the aim of life lost in the infinity of life…I am not tormented, the young Julien was not tormented, on the contrary, He knew how to tame adversity… he knew how to stay complete in his fragmentation, he was capable of staying strong and whole…

I love Julien, I admire him, I miss him…I miss his strength, his passion, his vision…Forty five years since my decision to start again from scratch, to turn the page, to go conquer a new world…Where did those years go…They went faster than the years spent to try to understand,  trying to live.

Too many people believe that life is what it is…We should not…Fatality, fate do not exist, we can change the world by looking at it in a different way, by interpreting it…Yes, sure, soon I am going to believe in Santa Klaus, should I just believe in the silence and let people continue to do whatever and never tell them anything?

 Everybody has good reasons for being what he is, to believe what he believes, to act according to his desires…

So, what should I expect anything from anybody? Why should I believe that what I know is more important? Why should I expect people to show some gratitude for what I did for them and give something back…

After all these years, I still have not understood that it means nothing…expect nothing from anyone, provoke nothing and no one…ask for nothing… BUT wait like an idiot that things happen and accept in SILENCE in order not to be difficult…

What a punishment, what a bore…

I just woke up sleeping in the plane, was this my last dream? Or a nightmare? Or both? Was I really asleep or just letting my mind ramble…

Can I be again a gypsy in Seville or a spy in Berlin…

It will never change…Life is a perpetual farce. 

Next to me in the plane a couple is exchanging words of love, they are cooing like two doves, they must be in their honeymoon…They are both extraordinarily ugly but they look at each other with eyes full of desire and admiration…They will build a life together, they will tell each other everything except the truth, they will take care of each other except for the big decisions, they will love each other with a quiet love, appeasing and silly…

NO…NO 

SILENCE IS SILVER BUT WORDS SHOULD BE GOLDEN

The me, me and...ME generation

I am a member of the baby boomer generation and was raised in a world where the idea that I had to think about my desires, my future, and my needs was the normal way to behave, was the right choice and the only approach to overcome all of life’s challenges.

ME had to be the center of my thoughts, of my preoccupations, of all my efforts to reach my goal in life: to become who I am.


Two weeks ago I celebrated or more exactly some people wanted me to celebrate what they call an important birthday, a stepping stone in life for all of us who reached that age…
Yes, last week I turned seventy.


My god or my devil, SEVENTY…I cannot believe it, where did life go? Where did my dreams, my fears, my wishes, my successes, my failures go?
Are they still around me, making me, sculpting me, changing me, making me happy or destroying me?
Did I fulfill the purpose of the ME generation? Did I find myself? Did I find peace?
Do I have answers about the eternal questions of life, love, friendship, career, and relationships?


I am now seventy with all that number means…
Wiser that I were at 20 or 30, but less strong that I was at 40… Full of stories and adventures to share but less of a desire to conquer the world like I had most of my life…
Still lots of energy but using it with discernment… is that being wise or cautious? Is it being wise or full of fears?
My imagination remains the primary power, but choosing the paths of possible realization instead of throwing myself into new adventures without giving any thought to its purpose.


In short, I am boring myself…and spend a lot of time thinking about the past, about some people, about who and what and why, but not thinking of the next step or the next adventure that much anymore …
Is that BECOMING OLD? Is that a definition of getting old? Or is it another moment in time when what is happening does not coincide with my reality?


Most of us reach the different steps of life, youth, maturity and then the AGE DE RAISON, thinking that it is forever, that nothing will or can stop us, that it is a perpetual story in the making… We just have to find the next chapter…


Yes it is the perpetual search of the ME generation…looking for answers and questions about ME and to want to be an artist is probably the most obvious search for…ME


AN ARTIST?
I am wondering more and more if the definition of the artist can even be expressed…what does ARTIST mean?
All my life I would hear from everyone around me, from friends and people met on social occasions, in a supermarket or in a meeting with lawyers, from my garbage collector or the head of the public library:
He’s an artist, how can you trust him?
Or
You know, he’s an artist, so you know…what can you expect from his kind of brain?
Or
He’s an artist, so deep, so intense, so intelligent, so creative…
Or
Really? Really? An artist? How does he make a living?
Or
An artist? What does he do for a living?


What does it really mean to be an artist?
To see the world in a different way?
To bring to the world a different vision of reality?
To accept the perpetual changes and be able to adapt to them by having a different attitude every day?
Do we completely lose control of whom we are by accepting to change according to different values, different fashions, different needs…and these changes happen faster and faster.


More simply is being an artist the ultimate attempt to look for…ME


I wonder sometimes if the path to be honest and dedicated in the artistic profession is an illusion and a leftover of childhood guilt or may be an open wound…It seems that false knowledge, the attempt to enter into a dream world, being an intellectual poseur can bring you to the heights, the pinnacle of success…
Years go by, and I am still trying to find some answers to all this, and sometimes chance, the unbeatable law of fate gives us some answers or more exactly some elements of answers. These possible answers push us to think and to try to be generous with others, understanding our enemies and protecting the ones we love…


Is reaching a certain age the beginning of the end of the perpetual search for ME?


Unfortunately it will become an even harder task for the new generation, The ME generation is now part of the oldies and has been replaced by the me, me and …ME generation…
And not only in the artistic profession but all over the map…it seems that it’s not a preoccupation anymore but the only way to live, the only guide for a good or successful life…


Social media have dictated a way of life…Every day we must tell the world what we think, what we feel, what we want, what we don’t want, what we hope, who we like, who we hate, who is intelligent, who is not, we have to share pictures with so called friends on line, pictures of our cousins, of our dinner out, of everything ME is doing…
I rarely have a conversation with anybody that doesn’t turn very quickly to his or her feelings, his or her next action, his or her next inaction, his or her next step or decision…
Nobody or almost nobody spends time reading Goethe or Descartes anymore, looking at Picasso’s painting evolution, or even reading Shakespeare and Gogol.
NO TIME FOR THAT, what is more important is to share real feelings and thoughts like posting pictures of the last drinking party…
People study their phones all day long, and I am sure they can find the real questions and answers about the purpose of life and human adventure right there.
I don’t understand the notion of personal or intimacy anymore, some people believe that to share ideas can be too personal and disturbing, but to expose all their life on Facebook is fine.
In a few words we believe that me, me and ME deserve the attention of all…We even sometimes write a blog…


The human voice has been replaced by MY voice to the Humans…
La voix humaine…
The human Voice? Almost ironic when most real voices have been silenced around me and have been replaced by the voice of ME to Me…
Will we find a balance between the perpetual contemplation of our navel and the attention that others deserve…sometimes?
Should we try to use our voice the way we should? Sharing ideas and moments without talking about ME???? And eliminate all the harsh words we have for others, all the condemning words and keep only the ones bringing joy?


I am wandering… My thoughts dictate what I am writing… Me is dictating to I what I think…Maybe I should use my voice on others before typing words and eliminate the senseless words invading a blank page…


Voltaire wrote in Candide “Il faut cultiver notre jardin” meaning “we must tend to our garden”… Did we go too far? Are we cultivating ONLY our garden?


How is the next generation, going to react in the next few years, to this new way of living, of thinking?
Today, most of us are torn between the need to be and the reality of non-belonging to any system…Too many people, who are not respected by others, in their artistic profession or the business or political world, in every profession, are now making decisions… we don’t believe in them or trust them but they do… I know it has been the same since the world was created, and the me generation tried to fight this in the sixties…so why are we surprised to see the turmoil and chaos all over the world when we live in the me, me and ME generation?


Is this a moment in time? But how much time is left? Life goes by very fast…
The me generation was trying to convince the non-believers to fight against the usurped power and to refuse to bow in front of the fakers…
The me, me and ME generation has to find its own struggle, and to put aside for a moment the self-attention…


I am sure they will.

CONTROL???

The sea is very quiet and very light blue, I can see the bottom and the sand... Not one wave, it is like an infinity of calm and peace.

I am in our summer home in Carthage, 13 miles from Tunis, I love to be alone daydreaming in the water and in peace…This place is full of history, some Romans or Carthaginians may have been right here where I am...

 I am floating on my back, my eyes are closed, and I am finally free and happy... There’s no one around, nobody to tell me anything, to tell me what to do.

I look at the sky, also very blue, and without clouds, not even one. 

I am so happy and at last I am in control of all my movements.

The sun is bright and warm, am I in Paradise? Time goes by, not a sound…

And then my entire family is around me, how strange I thought some of them did not know the others, but they are all around smiling at me, holding my hands.

I feel so good, I am in heaven, I am in the “Mediterranean sea” in Tunis, I am young, and I am in control of everything.

I feel something pulling my leg from under, very lightly, almost like a caress, I smile again, it must be a small fish teasing me, or the fingers of an imaginary whale.

The pulling is suddenly harder, like the hand of a giant grasping me,  I try to fight it with my feet, with no results… the hand of the giant is now holding both of my legs,  I change position and start to try swimming, but I cannot... All my efforts are useless, I am not advancing and the pulling is stronger and stronger, trying to sink me under water… I am losing control, I am not myself anymore… 

The sky becomes a mirror and I see the face of an older man, who is he? He looks like me but much older, and seems to be in a panic, his eyes are wide open and he is screaming but I can’t hear a sound...

I am not in the ocean anymore, I am in a crowd of people screaming at me, laughing, and playing cards and making speeches... Some are standing up talking with lots of gestures as if they were giving instructions, and I wonder what they are saying, I don’t understand, it’s a language I don’t know and cannot grasp, I can’t control anything… 

 I start to walk away, and fall in a huge hole in the ground, I fall and fall and fall, my head is hitting some rocks and my legs are trying to become wings.

I wake up…

Another bad dream, no actually another good dream, or maybe both.

I am thinking about it. Today is Thanksgiving Day, and I am thankful for life, to a few people in my life, and I am wondering. In that dream, I was in control and happy at first, and then suddenly I lost control and was losing everything else.

Why?

Lots of people say that I am a control freak, that I always want to be in control, that I tell everybody what to do and not to do, what to think, how to behave, what to dream and even to stop dreaming or even to stop hoping when it is no longer, possible, according to me, naturally.

I remember my youth, even at the young age of 10, I was sitting at my desk in school and the other kids would come to me and I was telling them what to do, who to like and who to dislike.

And they were listening.

Today, I would be called a bully, but a mind bully since I was frail.

CONTROL, CONTROL

Some people have control and some are followers because they do not like control or because they are not capable of it.

I wanted to be an actor but I quickly went in the direction of becoming a director, control?

I became a director but soon turned into a general director, control?

And that went on for most of my life, the need to be in control practically dictated all my life moves, and almost all my decisions.

We all know by now that this need to be in control comes from a youth trauma, which is most of the time untold or undiscovered...

The lack of the need to control, and the choice of being a follower have probably the same origin, in a youth trauma.

BUT some do not need control and stay independent and some find the balance between controlling and following… 

These people are happier most of the time and have a more balanced life, but they are rarely leaders, but again they do not need to lead.

Some others have found their way in life and in professional life by pleasing others and at the same time to impose their thoughts, to control through no obvious actions those they need to please in order to advance their personal aims.

It is amazing to see very often some of us taking on new responsibilities, new leadership... 

They advance quickly in their life, in their profession, and seem always to bounce back somewhere else if they fail, never totally defeated, never totally desperate, always finding new paths, new ways, and new adventures.

They learned how to impose their thoughts, to please individuals and a crowd, to show what they know and to hide carefully what they do not know…

They can talk about everything, they are specialists about everything, they immediately find our weaknesses and how to use them… They are great talkers and great seducers, using every tool or every trick, they know how to manipulate others, how to say exactly what we want to hear, how to make us feel important and deserving their attention.

THEY ARE THE REAL CONTROLLERS

They control our actions, our decisions, our future and too often our life, we look for their approval, and we feel better when they give us a little nod of recognition.

They take charge of big companies, large corporations, they become the new stars of Wall Street or the entertainment business.

We look at them, like them, despise them, respect them, fear them, we want to be chosen by them, hate them, envy them, and finally wonder about them.

Every day we wonder why this one or that one is in charge, why this one or that one is so successful… 

We know they do not know, we know that they do not deserve it, and when we make our knowledge about them too obvious, they try to eliminate us by ignoring or demeaning us.

We believe we are basically better, more talented, more knowledgeable but they are the chosen ones, why?

Yes, they are the chosen.

They were the gifted and they learned how to find the balance between CONTROL AND PLEASING; they have always the right word, they have the gift to say banalities and we believe it is pure genius, they have a solution for everything even when they have no idea of what the problem is.

Unfortunately, it can become a rule in our society, especially in the arts, and we have to be very aware of it, and very careful of what we say, what we do, what we think.

We have to learn, not how to become like them, but how to deal with them, to accept their control but keep the freedom to sometimes refuse it or deny it.

 I know that sometimes we don’t have a choice and must accept the decision of the CHOSEN, but our mind should always be free to question it and even to deny it.

We have to see or guess what is behind the facade, use what we find and then we will have a small possibility to have the opportunity to play their game. 

We are confronted with these CONTROLLERS in our professional life but also in our private life, and it has to become our task to deal with it, and manage it in order to stay who we are and obtain what we want and need… 

AN ABSOLUTE CONDITION TO BE OURSELVES.

MEMORIES

We all have lots of memories, good ones, bad ones, useless ones and sometimes some memories that really forge our personality, our temperament, our character, and behavior.

As we go forward in life, we accumulate more and more memories and it’s difficult sometimes to go through it and find the ones that have really shaped us…Sometimes I have the feeling that I am carrying an endless catalog of memories and I catch myself more and more telling people my experiences, my stories, my memories.

 I am sure that sometimes people must think: here he goes again, telling us his stories and I am sure that sometimes I must sound like a boring older man perpetually rehashing his experiences.

It seems that some MEMORIES can become the leading instrument of our actions, often unconsciously, and sometimes they become the determining factor for some of our creative blocks, our inaction, or even the impossibility of communicating at any level.

Can we call MEMORIES experience? Maybe…but I believe that there is a difference: to become a MEMORY an experience has to be digested or at least controlled.

MEMORIES of encounters, memories of family history, memories of professional experiences, memories of new discoveries, memories of everyday surprising events, etc.  They decide who we are, who we become and also who we will be until a new MEMORY takes over.

I have noticed that I am not impressed by individuals because of their position in society, or their reputation, or the possibility of being recognized by them… I admire some achievements, some thoughts or some actions, but I am not impressed by the person and am not overwhelmed by what they represent. WHERE DOES THAT COME FROM?

A MEMORY

In 1967, I was acting in Paris in a new play with a group of actors, some young and some others less young.

One of the actors was Lucien Raimbourg, a much older wonderful actor who actually had created the part of Estragon in “Waiting for Godot” by Samuel Beckett. He was generous of advice to his colleagues, and a great mentor. One day, after learning that I was a huge fervent follower of Beckett’s ideas and his theater, that were actually part of my studies at the university, he told me:

“Bernard, I know how much you admire Beckett, he is in Paris and I am meeting him tomorrow afternoon in his apartment, would you like to join us?”

I almost fainted, gagged and answered with a voice full of emotion:

“Lucien, of course I would love that, he is my idol… the writer I want to be, the genius of the century, the man I want to become, please let me go with you.”

The following day after the rehearsal, we were on our way to Beckett’s apartment in Paris…I could not contain my excitement, talked nonstop during the walk while Lucien was smiling and did not say a word…

I was going to meet one of the men I had put on a pedestal for the past seven years, he will be in front of me with his genius, overwhelming me with his knowledge, his passion, his wise advice, his incredible way of being a human being.

We arrived at the door of the apartment and Lucien rang the bell …No answer, he tried again, no answer…I was becoming nervous, was I going to miss the encounter with the genius?

Then Lucien looked at me, and nodded… 

He knocked on the door many times followed by three knocks… like what we call in French LES TROIS COUPS in the theater, signaling to the audience that the curtain is about to rise and the audience should be silent… (Actually what Puccini used before the Musetta aria)

The door opened almost immediately, as if he were waiting for the right thing…LES TROIS COUPS…

I saw BECKETT in front of me … He was unshaven, his hair was dirty and he was wearing an old bathrobe covered with spots of all kinds, probably the leftovers of his meals and other things for the past four days.

He didn't say a word, we followed him through a hallway leading to his living room…On the floor of the hallway and the living room, there were old cans, old empty bottles, old papers, and the level of dirt was unbelievable.

 I sat on a dirty sofa with Lucien, Beckett took an armchair facing us.

I was ready… To listen, to hear, to learn, to grow…The great man was going to talk about theater, about life, about everything I was eager to learn and become a better man.

For the next two hours, he didn't look at me once, he was exchanging ideas and information with Lucien about the advantages of big tits over small tits, with details and stories of their experiences…

 They were laughing nonstop, and went on and on …I didn't know that so many ideas about women’s breasts could be exchanged…

 Beckett was punctuating his laughter and his jokes with belching or farting, and they went on and on … After two hours of all THAT, he finally looked at me with his white eyes and asked Lucien :

 “ why did you bring this little turd here?”

He got up without a word and I understood that we had to go, he had said all he had to say.., he let us reach the door and we left…

In the street, Lucien didn't say a word , he looked at me and nodded.

From that day on, I never again put anyone on a pedestal, I never idolized anybody, I could admire some actions, respect some decisions, but I never idolized anyone else.

This experience digested after time turned into a memory.

I cannot remember a moment of affection or tenderness with my mother… maybe that explains why until recently in my life I have been incapable of showing emotion or concern about most people.

The only memory I have of my father: in 1959, three years after the independence of Tunisia, my father lost everything, we had practically nothing and were getting ready to immigrate to France…One day, after school I went home and I heard my father, alone, crying in his room… I could not even attempt to go inside, he sounded so sad and so lost, I ran to my room and looked at the street through the window and swore to myself that in life I would be strong, that nothing would prevent me from doing what I wanted to do, what I was inspired to do; I would be defying bad fate, I would be in control of myself in every circumstance.

The phone rang and I answer…

“Bernard Uzan?”

“Yes.”

“Your brother had a car accident and is dead.”

End of conversation… I was 19, my brother was 6 years older than me, I never had a real rapport with him… this is practically my only memory of him, a phone call telling me that he was dead…

Until a few years ago, I did not think of him, he was buried in my pain, only a memory to used when I wanted to be suffering and have an equivalent on stage … who was he? I don’t know… I have a few pictures of him. Did this memory carried for 50 years made me vulnerable and strong?????

Memories are not only dramatic or painful.

 Diana brought me many good memories, many of them helped shape the person I am now… I hope I am a better man but certainly I hope to be a more caring human being, and certainly a more giving person

My daughter Vanessa brought me many good memories, many of them helped shape the person I am now … I hope to be a better man but certainly a more caring human being, and certainly a more giving person.

.

I have many memories of people who brought me artistic revelations, the definition of what being a man or a woman means at any level, acts of pure generosity.

All these memories do shape who we are and what we become… Can we control them? Can we change one memory with another more positive one?

                                                                                                                                                                 In any case, they have to be present, controlled, managed, and used. 

                                                                                                                                                            Let’s continue forever to know who we are and why, to understand our actions in order to be able to grow, be better, be happier… if possible.

IS IT TIME?????

I look at the clock in the darkness of my room, it is 2 :30 am… Is it time to get up? Even for me, it seems that it is very early, much too early…

I stay in bed, and I wonder: Is it time to start the day, I have so much to do, especially since I have so much to say to some people about what I think about their last idea, their last commitment, their last adventure…They want my opinion, my “feedback” (God ! how I hate that word “feed back”) but actually they want me to tell them that they did well, that they took the right decision, that they are on the right track…

Is it time to tell them the truth about what I really think?

Is it time?

This question is haunting me now … How many times in my life did I say IS IT TIME?

In 1961, my family left Tunisia after many, many generations in that country to immigrate to France, but  was it time? We were scared to live there; we had lost almost everything, we were nobody and we had nothing. France was opening its doors to us, yes, then  IT WAS TIME.

In 1971, I left Paris and my burgeoning career as an actor and a theater director to live in Boston and start a new adventure, was it time? While I sometimes regret my acting career, and I will never know if I missed the opportunity of becoming the new Marlon Brando, I very quickly grew into my new life and found other ways to express my artistic needs. Yes, PROBABLY IT WAS TIME.

In 1981, I left Boston, my university teaching job and my theater company to live in New York and start a new career by directing Opera, was it time? I think it was time to throw myself into a new adventure and to try to conquer new territories, since my world was becoming sterile and routine… YES IT WAS TIME.

In 1988, I left New York to take a big job in Montreal, was it time? After all those years as a professional in the opera world while depending on the decisions made by others, I needed to be totally responsible professionally for my decisions.  YES IT WAS TIME.

In 2001, I left Montreal and returned to New York, and very soon started an opera management division, was it time?

I don’t know.

In 2011, I started my own management company and went in another adventure, was it really time?

After the experiences of the past 10 years, IT WAS TIME.

It seems that every 10 years or so, the question “is it time?” becomes the center of my preoccupations and the trigger for a possible new life…No, actually this question is asked every day, many, many times, even if we are not aware of it.

Is it time to change apartments, to go on a diet, to stop drinking, to change career, to change partners, to eat better, to avoid gluten, to change my hairdo, to dress better, to go to bed earlier, to answer questions asked to me, to work more, to work less, to realize that my career is going nowhere, to become an adult, to take responsibility for myself and others, to be more generous, to be more giving, to be less giving, to face reality, to look at the world with more generosity, to forgive people who do not like me, to punish the offenders, to say NO, to say YES, to accept the betrayals of friends, to cherish the good ones and be thankful to the givers, to…to…to… The list is infinite, and can go for pages or hours. IS IT TIME?

Every day, many times a day, we must make decisions and face reality… Not an easy task.

Time is a relative notion, is the question irrelevant? Can we answer by just saying: “When the moment comes, I will know if it is time.”

Certainly for the ones who are passive and are just looking at life, it is a possibility, but for those who want to have something to say about their own destiny and the paths of their life, it is not the best choice. We should not be looking at our own image with indulgence because this image could become the reality of who we are.

Must we take in our hands, make it our responsibility to answer this haunting question: Is it time?

Some people spend their life refusing consciously or unconsciously to act: education, fear, narcissism, religious belief, laziness, or just ignorance prevent them to try to answer.

It is not easy to face reality, to try to know who we are and how much we need, to go on to the next step.

Is it time to know what people really think of us? The difference between what we believe we are and what we project on people is immense…

How can I really make decisions about myself if I have no idea how I project to people?

Of course, we project very often what people want to receive and we are the result of who they are and what they believe…

But we cannot deny reality by hiding behind this idea.

Do others receive my everyday actions with the meaning I give to them? It is time to work on this? Is it time to know?

Today, we are submerged with a million more obligations to confront reality and life that even 20 years ago, or 10 years ago… and it goes faster and faster, the notion of who we are and what we do and what we decide is challenged every day, every hour, every minute…especially if we make our life public and at the mercy of all judgments.

Is it possible today to address this question IS IT TIME? Or should we just continue blinded by self-satisfaction and the advantages of a relative easy life with no fundamental questions?

We have to have the courage to address this question about each aspect of our life, it is certainly exhausting but necessary and we have to try to answer it… We cannot spend our life hiding behind an image, behind a myth we have created about our self.

Many times, in different aspects of everyday life or even in important decisions we know we are on the wrong path, we know it is time to act or to change, but we continue to ignore it and we refuse to think about a new way… NO MORE ABOUT THIS…

IS IT TIME???? YES, IT IS…

Is it time to accept that maybe we will not be successful in the career we have chosen?  Is it time to confront the fact that often we live behind a curtain of self-preservation? Certainly, it takes an immense dose of courage even to ask these questions and an incredible strength to face it.

Of course, we cannot spend most of our life doubting everything, and too much doubt sometimes fosters inaction, but we should know when the question IS IT TIME? Truly becomes a priority.

IS IT TIME FOR ME TO RETIRE? Is it time to stop my activities, to leave some room to a new generation? I have probably reached the top of my possibilities and the culmination of what I can do… 

So is it time to stop?

There are other elements to the puzzle!!! The pleasure we can derive in knowing that what we do is the result of a long experience; the feeling that we can convey our thoughts to others.

 I will always have in mind the genial line of Edouard Herriot: La culture, c’est ce qui demeure dans l’homme lorsqu’il a tout oublié…Culture starts when we have forgotten everything… what he means is: the accumulation of digested knowledge becomes our entity and our identity… what can be for some a discovery and hard work, can also become for others the elements of who they are..

And let’s not forget the perpetual desire to adapt to the new needs and sensibilities  of a new generation, to find new ways of expressing our art and be able to try it.

NO IT IS NOT TIME.

It is now 5 am I the morning, is it time to get up? Yes, I have a lot to do and to think about.

Is it time to stop writing the blog? May be.

QUE SONT MES AMIS DEVENUS?????

QUE SONT MES AMIS DEVENUS?????
 What happened to my friends?

 I went to bed last night with a song on my mind, actually just a few words of the tune: Que sont mes amis devenus? It was dancing in my head again and again, like an obsession… I had not heard this song in thirty years but I could not stop having this tune in my brain… AMIS, AMIS…. I could not get to sleep and was wandering in my memories …Who are my friends today? Who were my friends in my youth?

I know that very often here, I have mentioned that I do not have many friends and actually never did… I was probably too busy with my own search for identity, too focused on my own problems, too preoccupied by the questions about tomorrow, too selfish, sometimes too judgmental, l was basically hard to take.

 Not too many friends… but I realized now that a few persons have been extremely important in my life, have given me friendship, have helped me trust myself and some others, have given me more positive thinking in my searches, have contributed largely to who I am now…

 Most of them have disappeared, swallowed by life, by death, by other people, by different interests or by being disappointed by what I was giving them… But I remember them with affection and pride, feeling often that without them I would be a different person and certainly I would not have completed many adventures I began. (Maybe some people will regret that).

 Almost every day I hear about a man or a woman I knew who passed away because of an accident, old age, or they got tired of the life he/she had….How painful it is to hear about the disappearance of people we knew, we respected, we loved, some of whom we could call friends. I wish I had been more available to them, I wish I had recognized in time what they had done for me, what they showed me, what they gave me now that they are no longer here.

 We become not only what we experience, what we go through, what we dream or dread BUT we are ALSO the result of all the influences coming from people we meet. Our life will be filled with huge regrets, self-punishment and even penalties if we live it believing that all is owed to us, that everything given to us is normal because we deserve it, and if we do not feel any kind of obligation by denying the input of others.

 I have reached the age drawing up a balance sheet of my life and I am asking questions about my passed life, questions about the men and women who have been important to me….this can sometimes be a source of sorrow and questions….I ask myself, who was really a friend ? Was I a friend to anybody? Was I present when somebody needed me? Of course, I am sure I brought certain things to some people, but FRIENDSHIP?

 Yes, many, many individuals are close to me and can be called friends and I believe like me, or respect me, or find me interesting, funny, or whatever… But are they friends? What does that really mean: the word friendship? Are they ready to sacrifice anything for me and am I ready to sacrifice anything for them? Will the world change for them when I pass away, and if yes, for how long, an hour? A day? A month? A year? How long will I be present in their thoughts or their hearts? I have a few people who have disappeared from my life but I realize that they are still present in my thoughts and they have changed my way of being, of thinking, of feeling:

 Roger, I do not know where you are now, but if you read this, know that I am thankful to you for what you did for me all the years I spent in Montreal… Montreal was a very difficult period for me, a rich artistic time of great achievements, but a very lonely life, and very isolated. Not only you believed in me professionally and gave me all the possible freedom in my responsibilities as general director of the opera company, but you also gave me personal support, affection and an always ready presence if needed. You understood my temperament, not always easy, you were always ready to share a meal or to talk about life and laugh with me…. THANK YOU ROGER

 Robert, my friend for more than 50 years… You are still here, we spend sometimes years or many months without seeing each other, but we know that we will always be around for each other. I never heard you passing judgment about me or my choices, never criticizing my actions but always ready to give your opinion and your advice. Always around in difficult times, always at a phone call distance; with time we had different life and different options but always with respect for each other. I know that if something happens to one of us, the other will be there if needed for our family. THANK YOU ROBERT.

 Roberto.... You are now a man with a family, you were practically a child when I met you. All these years I have seen you grow up, maturing, becoming a man and someone with serious repsonsibilities. You are like a son to me, but also a friend... always present, always inquisitive, always attentive to my needs...I sincerely hope that I gave you as much as you gave me, affection, respect, trust and understanding even without talking. I am proud to have you as friend, proud of your achievements as a family man and as a professional man. I look at your children and it makes me happy. THANK YOU ROBERTO for giving me that.

 Mark, you have been gone for many years…. You brought me your knowledge of music, your understanding of others, and your generosity towards life. I learned from you how to deal with traumas, how to respect different lifestyles, how to feel needed, and give affection with no second thoughts, how to share ideas and beliefs. I know I could have asked you anything, I know you could have asked me anything, I still smile thinking of you, I still quote you, I still repeat some of your words and some of your jokes. I miss you and will miss you to the end, you were a friend, a brother. THANK YOU MARK.

 Speight, David, Margaret, Jim, Michael, John, THANK YOU.

 It seems that in the new way of living, it is more and more difficult to have friends, even for the people who have a great capacity to make friends. It is ironic to see that in this socially connected world how truly hard this becomes.

 Am I once again projecting my ways or is it our superficial life style? Can we in this world of CHANGES really create special connections and special relationships with a few others?
 I still hear often people saying “my friend” or “friend from childhood” or “my best friend”, I am glad it exists and it happens. Be sure to keep these friends as long as you can and if you are separated by life, be sure to keep them somewhere in your heart or your memory.

 I know that sometimes because we all change, and because life imposes new challenges, new ways, new thoughts on us, some “friends” no longer fit our new needs, but let’s be sure to keep their memory close to us.

 This poem of Rutebeuf, was written in the 13 century

 "Que sont mes amis devenus
 Que j'avais de si près tenus
 Et tant aimés
 Ils ont été trop clairsemés
 Je crois le vent les a ôtés
 L'amour est morte
Ce sont amis que vent me porte
Et il ventait devant ma porte
Les emporta"

I KNOW THE FRENCH LANGUAGE IS SOMETIMES HARD TO GET, SO IT MEANS:

 “What has become of my friends
 Those who were so close to me
And that I loved so,
They have grown thinner
I think the wind blew them away
The love died off
Those friends that the wind brought to me
As it blew at my door
And then whisked them away.”

 A little sad but this is to be expected from a French poet… Very interesting to note that Love needs to die to disappear but the wind can blow friendship away... Is friendship so fragile? Is friendship a temporary feeling? Is friendship an illusion? Perhaps it’s a fantasy?

What about the people that we believe were friends and suddenly turn their back when we are not useful anymore, who were they? Just …Just what? I do not even know how to define them by a word….

So let’s just ignore it for today.