Colorblind Sheep (Ovejas Daltónicas)

To be and to appear gives you truth. To appear and not to be is a lie. To be and not to appear equals a secret. And not to appear and not to be is said to be falsity.

If something is known as false, it implies that this something was once a lie and that a secret was formerly uncovered; meaning that the truth is now known and that it once had to ‘come to light’.

HOLA, HOLA dear readers

I am just sharing with you something we learned today in the Creative Writing class. A text called “Up in the Gallery”, from Franz Kafka was analyzed and then the teacher came up with this example of a semiotics sort of puzzle; which was made up by a French semiotician with the last name of Greimas.

(This French man made up another one with ‘black’ and ‘white’ as well; and from two simple terms, innumerable word labyrinths are subsequently brought out! Most of us do not even notice that words use blank spaces in a very ‘dexterous’ manner; the trick is in reading in between lines and finding out a way for ‘decoding’ their “blank looking surroundings” I guess.)

So, this “Up in the Gallery” story ended up being a representation of the hypocrisy present in society. How appearances are used to keep the reality of things hidden from the majority; and even if one person is to notice the truth, chances are that they will not do anything about it, but just “weep” silently “…without even realizing” - a bit disappointing.

It is really a great course this one (…and I never imagined myself saying those words). But it is actually the first time in all my ‘school-life history’ when we are actually said: “You do not have to agree with what I say or with what these authors say”, “you listen your own, individual feelings, thoughts and opinions; and you should try cultivating those”.

Neither have I had someone standing up in front of the blackboard and accept that educational systems have somehow managed to come up with methods of ‘intellectual cloning’; of cutting individuals’ wings (the nearest I had ever come to ‘hearing’ this was by reading Chomsky!). Or to quit with the career you are studying if it doesn’t really make you happy! Even if you are in your third year of studies… who cares, we have to love our lives, right?

It is called Creative Writing, but in reality touches diverse subjects related to philosophy, literature, politics, sociology and even meditation! …it was more than once when we were asked to stand up, close our eyes and just be …a ‘mindfulness’ exercise for a few minutes!

It may sound silly for some, I know and can understand if it does… for ‘your writer’ though, it is simply great (!).

So, just like last time with the Artistic Direction and Design post, I leave you now with an example of what we do in this writing course.

In this case; weeks ago we were asked to write a text of whatever length we wanted, based on our reading of the Guatemalan writer (…Guatemalan OF COURSE) Augusto Monterroso’s short story called “La Oveja Negra” -“The Black Sheep”- which, traduced to English, goes as follows:  

“In a far-off country many years ago there lived a black Sheep. He was shot.

A century later, the repentant flock erected an equestrian statue of him, which looked very good in the park.

From then on, every time Black Sheep appeared they were promptly passed by the weapons so that future generations of common, ordinary sheep could also indulge in sculpture.”

Did my best to translate you the text I wrote from Spanish to English (…and while doing it I noticed that ‘Sheep’ is one of those troublesome words that are singular and plural at the same time… or neither, who knows? Whatever…); hope you enjoy (or not!):

Colorblind sheep

For the white sheep, the black sheep is clearly a black sheep.

But…

For the black sheep, are the white sheep white or black?

And if we were to put together a lot of black sheep for them to form a majority; would the black ones turn white and the white ones black?

What if we are all just black sheep, or we are all simply white sheep?

Or more complexly still, we form an endless rainbow of sheep with infinite color schemes?

Isn’t this taking us away from the fact that we may not even be sheep at all?

Because in a world where, for the mind, only a little is visible and in the mere reality everything is possible; we are probably not even that.

Is it that we play a game where we are all truly one sheep, divided into tiny fragments which are perpetually blinded by the simple desire to see only the difference between our color fragment, and the other color fragments of the additional alleged sheep?

What would happen if the various colored sheep would stop seeing colors and concentrate in that (if all the sheep are sheep) then all sheep have four legs, two ears, two eyes, a mouth and are wrapped up by, what appears to be, a big cotton ball?  

Because, for me, the sheep who is sitting in this moment right in front of me can be black; but for the person standing right next to me, this same sheep can be the whitest of sheep…

But… what do I know?

Perhaps it only remains to accept that from all of us sheep, without a single doubt, none has really access to an oculist competent enough who can let us know how colorblind we are.

Ovejas daltónicas

Para las ovejas blancas, la oveja negra es claramente una oveja negra.

Pero…

¿Para la oveja negra, las ovejas blancas son blancas o son negras?

¿Y si juntáramos a muchas ovejas negras para que formaran la mayoría; las negras se convertirían en blancas y las blancas en negras?

¿Y que si todos somos ovejas negras, o simplemente todos somos ovejas blancas?

¿O más complejamente aún, formamos un arcoíris interminable de ovejas de infinitas gamas de color?

¿No nos aleja esto del hecho de que quizá ni siquiera seamos ovejas?

Porque en un mundo donde para la mente solo un poco es visible, y en la mera realidad todo es posible; probablemente ni si quiera eso seamos.

¿Será que jugamos un juego donde verdaderamente todos somos una sola oveja, dividida en minúsculos fragmentos que están perpetuamente cegados por el sencillo deseo de ver solamente la diferencia entre nuestro fragmento de color, y los otros fragmentos de colores de las demás supuestas ovejas?

¿Qué pasaría si las ovejas de varios colores dejaran de ver colores y se concentraran en que (si todas son ovejas) todas tienen cuatro patas, dos orejas, dos ojos, una boca y las envuelve lo que parece ser una gran bola de algodón?

Porque para mí, la oveja que se sienta en estos momentos frente a mí puede ser negra; pero para la persona que se para de pie a mi lado, esta misma oveja puede ser la más blanca de ovejas…

Pero… ¿Qué sé yo?

Tal vez solo queda aceptar que de todas nosotras las ovejas, sin duda alguna, ninguna tiene acceso a un oculista suficientemente competente para decirnos que tan daltónicas somos.

Hasta la próxima dear readers(!!)
Your writer, 
Maria