It is well known that the human mind very often makes decisions for reasons it clearly does not know, presumably because it does so after having travelled the paths of the mind at such speed that, afterwards, it cannot recognise those paths, let alone find them again.
Saramago quite poetically points out that the human mind is so complex and varied that it often functions beyond its recognized capacity. Here, Saramago uses this complexity to account for the convoluted and often unexplainable ways in which the human brain functions. In other words, the brain’s synapses are so varied, complex, and fast that the brain cannot even account for its own actions. For Saramago, this understanding is critical because it accounts for the brain’s complexity but inability to remember or repeat certain functions. The brain is in constant motion and action and therefore simply does not have the capacity to store and recall every path, decision, and/or action.
All the great sadnesses, great temptations, and great mistakes are almost always the result of being alone in life, without a prudent friend to advise us when we are troubled by something more serious than our normal everyday problems.
Saramago points out that humans are almost always our own worst enemy. He points out that we often convince ourselves that we know our mind, body, and soul best. As a result of this assumption, humans have a tendency to overlook the troubles that are plaguing us. As a result, Saramago suggests that we often need a close friend—an outside eye—to look at our ailments, concerns, and problems and then identify them as such. In other words, we are often blinded to our own terrible problems due to the assumption that we know ourselves best. Saramago urges his readers to recognize the importance of a confidant and outside eye—someone who can identify our most serious problems, even when we are incapable of seeing them ourselves.
[...] we know that it is the search that gives meaning to any find and that one often has to travel a long way in order to arrive at what is near.
Here, Saramago points out that it often takes humans a great while to understand and genuinely see that which is—and always has been—right in front of us. In this way, he implies that it is often the truths and discoveries that lie closest to us that are the hardest to identify, grasp, and accept. Saramago also points out that the search (read: journey) is infinitely more important and significant than the find itself. This metaphor is very similar to the old adage that the journey is more important than the destination. In short, Saramago points out that the process of searching yields more information, experience, and knowledge than the end result. Also, the longest journeys are often those to discover and understand that which has always been right in front of us.
Nothing so tires a person as having to struggle, not with himself, but with an abstraction.
An abstraction is best defined as an idea, rather than an event or object. In this way, Saramago suggests that humans are not designed to battle with themselves (their own conscience) but rather with ideas, which are inherently abstract and theoretical. Saramago argues that this is so tiring because ideas are not concrete. They can change from minute to minute, person to person. Additionally, because ideas are abstract and non-concrete, they require a great deal more exploration and contemplation that concrete objects and events.
