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 "Viver Intensamente (Living intensely) is a slogan which, in Brazil, constantly comes back into vogue. In the late 1960s, taboo-breaking actress Leila Diniz promoted the phrase as the way to "find the truth in the things one does." Writer Paulo Coelho recently told O Globo newspaper that he was only a VIP if this acronym stood for "Vivendo Intensamente o Presente" ("Living the Present Intensely").
But it was the success of last year's documentary Vinicius that caused its same central message "viver intensamente," to again reverberate widely here. Since I'm a person who lives intensely only when driving in Rio de Janeiro, that message doesn't reverberate in me. First of all, many of those famous for living intensely, from Ernest Hemingway to Janis Joplin, die tragically. Second, a life driven by excess requires a level of energy I no longer have. Finally, those who live the most intensely, those homeless and penniless do so because they have no other choice. My choice has been to try to live in harmony with myself and those around me - my definition of happiness. Vinicius said "it's better to live than to be happy." That is, his insatiable need for the precipice of passion was worth all of the sadness it caused him. But maybe Vinicius married nine times and never tired of romantic involvements simply because, as some have written, he dreaded solitude and monotony? After all, Vinicius even treated whiskey as a companion, calling it "bottled dog." When I had a life that was anything but monotonous, it only accentuated my solitude. In the mid 1970s, when I was in my mid 20s, I spent two years hitchhiking around the United States, stopping to visit rural hippie communes, pick apples, build log cabins, learn mountain climbing, apprentice as a river-rafting guide, and work as a waiter. It was perhaps my most fascinating 24 months on the planet - a kaleidoscope of constantly-changing faces and experiences. But the adventure's lack of direction left me, not only confused, but forlorn because I had no one to share it with. As the lyrics to a Neil Young song go: "If you follow every dream, you might get lost." When I was 33, that same gypsy spirit brought me to Rio and almost made me leave. After three years here, I told a friend that I was thinking about moving to Bangkok, "to be a more interesting person." "Why?," she asked. "Are you surrounded by people more fascinating than you and trying to catch up?" And when I said "no," she retorted "then why put all that pressure on yourself?" That's when I got off of my roller coaster. I married one Brazilian, separated nearly five years later, then married another with whom I've been married for 14 years. And I have learned how to share my life with someone. I now know, not just about the beginning and end of a relationship, but about its long middle period, whose daily routine can make the Dionysian romps of Vinicius so glamorous, so enviable. Vinicius was never enamored of - and perhaps was even afraid of - the middle of a relationship because he hopped off of his romantic roller coaster ride whenever it hit a long, horizontal stretch. My not getting off during this stretch has transformed my adventures into more internal ones. And although my life is characterized by high cholesterol, not high adrenaline, levels, it still has its peaks and challenges. I am not the most interesting person in the room. But I am also not the kind of person poet T. S. Eliot wrote about in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock who "has measured out (his) life with coffee spoons." I don't live with self-imposed limits on appropriate behavior. My life is not that controlled, not that conventional. And although it would make a boring documentary, it has stretches of harmony that last longer than the poet who wrote "tristeza não tem fim, felicidade sim" ("there is no end to sadness, just to happiness") would have thought humanly possible. Michael Kepp is an American journalist who has lived in Brazil for the last 24 years and who has written for Time, Newsweek and many other U.S. publications. He is the author of the book of essays Sonhando com Sotaque – Confissões e Desabafos de um Gringo Brasileiro. (Dreaming in an Accent: The Confessions and Critiques of a Brazilian Gringo), published by Editora Record. For more information on the author and book consult www.michaelkepp.com.br. This article was originally published by the Brazilian daily Folha de S. Paulo, on April 13, 2006.
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"Mr. Jones is a former high school phys. ed. teacher turned enterprising real-estate agent who also writes books in his spare time. His latest can be found at Amazon.com."
This article wasn't too terribly interesting anyway but maybe that's the point: write a lukewarm article with just enough of a hint of "hobo adventure" to motivate us to by the book . . .