In the society he lived in, people—even leaders—were entirely predictable. Their reactions never strayed from the trivial. They did not provoke emotion in others, nor did they stimulate imagination. What the “ordinary” lacked, the mysterious man standing before Julius Caesar had in abundance. Caesar’s curiosity about his identity grew so strong that he asked again, this time differently. He first looked inward and admitted he knew very little about himself.
“I don’t know who I am; I need to find myself. But please, I insist—who are you?”
The man smiled. Caesar was finally speaking his language. Inspired, he revealed himself. Standing with the setting sun behind him, legs slightly apart and arms raised, he declared with certainty that he was a seller of dreams. He reaffirmed it when questioned, explaining that he offered courage to the insecure, boldness to the fearful, joy to those who had lost their fascination with life, prudence to the naïve, and criticism to thinkers. Then he added something unexpected: for those considering ending their lives, he tried to sell them a comma—a small pause so they could keep writing their story (Cury, 2011).
KPI’s
The epigraph above comes from The Dreamseller. At first glance, it may seem unrelated to the themes recently explored in this journal. In reality, it connects directly to the question posed in the last piece: how to become your oasis?
The answer seemed simple: know yourself deeply. Understand what frightens you, what you long for, what makes you laugh, and what hurts you. Translate that complexity into data (zeros and ones) until a being as contradictory as yourself becomes transparent: 01100011 01100001 01110100 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01100001 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110100 00001010
We concluded that today, many companies use segmentation and its more aggressive version, hyper-segmentation, not only to sell more, but also to divide and shape audiences by exploiting fears, desires, and aspirations.
Hostile Hospitality
It might seem that the solution is to launch a witch hunt against marketers, communicators, or businesspeople. But before pointing outward, it is worth looking inward.
Within this trend of hostile hospitality, where information meant to empower the customer is instead used to maximize profit and control, consumers also bear responsibility. As has been said, at different moments, we are all judge, party, and executioner.
When something goes wrong, the most common reaction is to detach, to put an end to it. But that is not always the best option, especially in the vast world of hospitality, where what is often needed is a comma.
“Salt: as it seasons, so it’s valued.”
Every system contains harmful agents. It is their nature to challenge what is whole. And, uncomfortable as it may be, they serve a purpose: to remind us that everything depends on measure.
Salt can elevate a dish… or ruin it.
But it is not enough to simply “add salt.” What is needed is judgment. And that judgment comes from something essential: a hunger to know.
Think about it: even your favorite meal becomes unbearable if you eat it every day. Not because it lacks flavor, but because of repetition.
As suggested in The Chemistry of Flavor, both the one who prepares and the one who consumes have the responsibility and the right to understand what elements make up what they ingest and what effects those elements produce.
No one is a prophet in their own land… until they are recognized…
This does not mean consuming any course, reading without discernment, or using technical jargon to appear knowledgeable. Knowledge is not synonymous with wealth or arrogance; above all, it is an exercise in humility.
There are those who construct an impeccable image (almost like a decorated military officer) and master the discourse. People who know a lot… but teach very little or nothing.
They become pirates of dreams, charging for the superficial. For example, a so-called Master Cigar Sommelier and Master Habano Sommelier who claims to teach the art of tasting cigars, but only shows how to light one, without explaining how to choose or truly understand it.
That is the equivalent of owing something to someone who merely taught you how to chew.
Yes, everyone needs income. But that does not justify taking advantage of those who do not know. Doing so is like placing obstacles in front of someone who is already walking blind.
The Eternal Learners
Are we doomed? Not at all.
But do not be mistaken, the way out is not comfortable. It requires awareness. It requires responsibility. It requires character.
And though it may sound simple, almost insultingly simple, it all begins with one point: recognizing that you are an eternal learner.
Now, what do you do with that?
If you see someone charging another person to teach something as basic as “how to eat,” and you recognize the abuse disguised as knowledge, you are no longer just a spectator. The moment you notice it, you become responsible.
Responsible for questioning. For not validating. For not applauding. For making others uncomfortable, if necessary.
Looking away is also a decision.
And if you are the one about to pay for something essential, your responsibility is no less. Ask. Doubt. Interrupt.
In the age of gurus, silence is expensive.
It is better to appear ignorant by asking… than to confirm it after paying for something that should never have been sold.
The weeds in a garden are not an accident; they are a constant. Invasive, uncomfortable, inevitable. But what is truly dangerous is not their existence, but allowing them to grow. Because if you do not act in time, they do not just ruin what you planted; they redefine the entire garden.
And there lies the uncomfortable truth: the plague not only destroys, but it also reveals. It forces you to stop being a spectator. It demands that you understand your role does not end with planting and watering; it also involves watching, deciding, and protecting.
Because caring, in the end, is the most honest way of being part of something.
Or, as the dream seller reflects, the past may act as a harsh judge that cannot be changed, but the present offers the opportunity to rebuild and shape what one can become. What ultimately matters is not being remembered for wealth, power, or even virtue as a formality, but as a simple traveler who came to understand, even slightly, what it means to be human—someone who learned to care for others and shared a few dreams along the way (Cury, 2011, pp. 182–183).
Satoricha ~
References
Cury, A. (2011). The Dreamseller: The Calling: A Novel (C. Frías, Ed.; C. E. Landers, Trans.). Atria Books.
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