Letters of Insurgents: Part 2

losing your illusion in the land of gigantic objects and monstrous toys

Hello there world. It has been a busy week, with the official start of summer, and one more set of letters.

One idea that really sticks out for me in this set of letters that of illusion. The title of this blog is viva la ilusión, which can be thought of something as “long live the illusion” or maybe, if you get wild “all power to the illusion” (but, that really isn’t the exact translation / it’s just the thought). So, it was kind of ironic when I thought about it, and when I found myself reading about losing your illusion and shedding it off for something else. The word illusion appears throughout these second letters,

Since we all know we’ll eventually die, since any of us might die tomorrow, are all our hopes and dreams illusions?

- Sophia (2)

How does one
go about shedding their illusions,
losing them,
like death,
nothing else is imaginable

Shedding our illusions, repressing our wants, forgetting our possibilities: these are the slogans of the ruling order; coming from you they sound bizarre.

- Sophia (2)

Just for fun (and what else can I say?): When I was living in La Habana, I saw an orange cargo truck with the words “viva la ilusión” spray painted on it, toting the anarchy symbol. It has stuck in my memory ever since, even though I have no picture – it stays – and that is how I came across the name for this blog. While I didn’t live in Cuba for exactly the longest of times, parts of the book remind me of experiences there.

Originally, if you will – I’m from middle of nowhere-awesome New York, so living in Cuba was a complete change from everything known before. It seems for the most part, their are two options; one can read about things, or one can go and experience things [of course, their are more, it just sounds nice]. Although, truth be told, it’s really not that simple, but – summed up, I was fortunate enough to live the student life there. Teachers / students discussing matters, but to a certain extent. And yes, this happens everywhere, but it is quite defined there, especially to what I have known growing up in a place that really emphasizes the idea of free speech.

Sophia seems to learn what a teacher is from Yarostan. And then, Sophia herself goes on to become a teacher. Her stories, along with Yarostan’s in relation to this idea of the student or/and professor (SOAP) is one area that I’d like to focus on throughout the reading.

Leaving it all, to wonder…

What is your life project?

The following are headlines from the media: (of course only jokes, but actual quotes, just with titles that define them from the get-go!)

Yarostan, the killer:

“At first I shot to avenge my parents. Later I just shot; my only concern was to hit.”

- Yarostan (2)

Sophia on friendship:

“A complete lack of human warmth, understanding, sympathy, comradeship. A cold, dispassionate disection of an animal.”

- Sophia (2)

Sophia on Hakim Bey:

Can you really be saying that insurgents only rise against the ruling order so as to reimpose it? Can you really be saying that the only dreams of rebels are dreams of authority and submission?

- Sophia (2)

Sophia on the radio:

The radio is an instrument which kills communication; it robs people of their tongues; it broadcasts the voice of a single individual to millions of listeners, reducing them to passive receptacles. If communication has the same root as common and community, the radio is an instrument for uprooting all three.

-Sophia (2)

Sophia on teaching:

“I decided during my first teaching job that I wasn’t going to let myself be reduced to a means of production for the production of means of production.”

- Sophia (2)

Sophia on life:

“I’ve tried to show you that my whole life has revolved around the experience I shared with you and that all my life I’ve sought to communicate with you.”

Well, goodnight all. Till, next week and then some. Saludos…

ps. sophia = much sweeter? love struck? and regretting leaving paradise?