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The asymmetry between demand and reception

“In those domains where human expression is not limited to the spontaneous act of showing, but seeks to embody itself in a form that resists the erosion of time—a form capable of sustaining the tension between origin and permanence, between impulse and elaboration—a well-known paradox imposes itself with disturbing regularity: the higher the degree of elaboration of a work, the smaller its audience tends to be. This is not a cultural whim or a statistical anomaly, much less a curse attributable to taste. Rather, it is a structural phenomenon that reveals a certain inevitable asymmetry between demand and reception. Some works were not made to be consumed, but to be confronted.
Excellence—when it deserves that name—is not offered under the logic of performance. It does not deliver immediate pleasure or seek to fulfill a soothing function. On the contrary, it imposes conditions: time, preparation, availability, even an active tolerance for discomfort. Contemporary culture, however, has domesticated attention to the point of turning it into a reflexive, almost involuntary gesture. The measure of value has shifted toward immediacy. What cannot be absorbed instantly is perceived as an obstacle, a waste of time, or a sign of arrogance. It is rejected not because it has been understood and dismissed, but because one has not had the patience to inhabit its difficulty. This does not mean, of course, that all accessible forms are without value. There are simplicities that are the result of long refinement, and there is clarity that does not come from impoverishment, but from rigor. However, such forms are exceptional, not the rule. The dominant pattern is different: ease of reception tends to coincide with a reduction in formal complexity. What conforms too readily to the codes of the majority often ends up losing depth. It produces no transformation and demands no response; it leaves no mark. It dissolves as quickly as it is consumed.
That the trivial dominates the public space should come as no surprise to anyone. It is, in a way, the logical result of a cultural machinery that privileges visibility over quality, number over meaning. What is truly disconcerting is that, despite everything, the valuable persists. And it persists without needing to impose itself. It does not need seduction strategies, it does not resort to marketing artifice, nor does it adapt to the dictates of algorithms. It remains, sometimes in the shadows, because it continues to respond to a need that, although unspoken, has not disappeared: the need to be challenged, to think beyond the given, to encounter something that cannot be resolved with an automatic gesture.”
Prabhuji
Love is not perfect

Love is not perfect

“The desire for excellence has been carefully instilled from an early age as part of an educational model focused on competence, efficiency, and external recognition. We are taught that only those who excel deserve attention, and that the value of an action, or even of a person, is determined by its results. As a result, perfection becomes an unquestionable ideal, while success appears as its visible manifestation. However, this success is unstable, as the pleasure it brings depends on the validation of others and not on a clear understanding of oneself.
Pride—whether for achievements, cultivated abilities, or idealized images—acts as a subtle form of self-defense that, in the long run, erodes emotional life. What begins as self-affirmation ends up hardening sensitivity, compromising judgment, and weakening the ability to relate to others. Under its influence, vulnerability is perceived as a threat, and openness as a sign of inferiority.
Perfectionism, by excluding error as a learning opportunity, interrupts the spontaneous development of emotional and moral intelligence. Its logic denies the possibility of sincere connection, since any attempt to conform to ideal models nullifies the uniqueness of the other. In this context, the demand for flawlessness transforms human interaction into a conditional, calculated, and therefore sterile relationship.
Love, on the other hand, is not constructed or perfected. It is not oriented toward ends or projected as an attainable state. It is a presence that is not defined by attributes and does not operate according to categories of merit. It does not arise from a desire to improve, but from an unrestricted attention that does not seek to transform what it welcomes. The contemporary tendency to replace meaning with efficiency produces a growing mechanization of behavior. The effort to improve becomes a habit without interiority, a habit that produces results but not understanding. In this process, action loses its intrinsic justification and becomes an instrument. The musician no longer plays for the love of sound, but for the symbolic benefit that the performance may generate. Art, then, ceases to be an experience and becomes a technique emptied of meaning.
The current educational and cultural system values competence over understanding, and performance over love for the object itself. Under this logic, the end absorbs all means, and activity loses its autonomy. The beloved thing—be it a craft, a vocation, or a person—is instrumentalized in terms of measurable achievements. But when love is absent, the source that gives meaning to the action also vanishes. Deprived of this dimension, even the most celebrated success becomes a sophisticated form of loss.”
Prabhuji