Dawn arrives… with an impeccable certainty.
The environment softens, according to the need and needs of the situations.
Perfect chronologies are made… of maximum balance.
The luminaires express without error… And here and there they are found!, solemn.
The tides culminate playing on the shore of the beach… meanwhile the clouds confabulate with the sun.
The seeds germinate, with an appreciated message that does not decay… despite how adverse the environment is.
The winged displaced rush in each season, to emigrate; pilgrims of the wind, who trust in their feathers with absolute certainty.
And amongst all of this magnificence, the human being finds itself. And it finds itself embroiled in itself and… with knots in the environment, without really knowing where it should find itself; without knowing, in its wisdom, what is its true place.
And it investigates and seeks and discovers… its outrages that still let it be.
It seems to not matter to anyone what the human being does. As if it was so “passing by”, passing, passing that … almost it has passed.
And everybody, in its micro-world, asks itself what should be its position, its posture, its attitude… within its own species. This dominates the obsessive mind of the humanity, without assessing sufficiently the environment that gives it shelter, support and position so that the time and space clothes them, coordinates them, establishes the references.
But the head is thick, and although it has holes that feed on sounds, smells, flavours, vision and touch, it does not seem to be sufficient for the porous and osmotic being that should constitute the human being, behaves as such, and not as a warehouse with its own attitudes, which seeks hegemony through making walls, fences, rifles… and defences that are always attacks.
The human being, has converted into "humanity", when its project is to become an "eternity"!...
Our evolutionary presence is not a comfortable stay. It is a transit of continuous renovations, conversions!, assaults of the soul!... towards new dimensions.
That is our operative consciousness, when realizing our origin… and the inspirations that the Creation gives us.
If the being has these perspectives, this will allow the development and continuous recreation of life. And will make, of your life, not something of your own but something solidary; with the originality of each being, able to impress and be impressed with every step, as if each advance would generate an orchard.
There are resources to do so. We are not mouldy processes of stagnant fears and possibilities. We are potentials of grandiosity. And we cannot contain ourselves, impede ourselves, repress ourselves!… We cannot fail to express ourselves in the endless deserts, in the endless forests or in the endless mountains.
The Universe, as an expression of Creation, asks of us a position of joyful dignity, creative and innovative; not a ruined inheritance and progressive decline!
The Creation calls us, to the verses, to the compliments, to the fantasies. And not because of this we stop eating!
The Creation calls us, to realize the liberating position in which is our creation. We do not need to secure ourselves! The delight and satisfaction call us! Not the pain, the suffering and the sweat.
The friendly delight of "complaisance", that leads us to an enamoured rapture of a permanent nature, with its ups and downs in the warping of space and time calls us.
Ay!... Knowingly! " -knowing already- that each being should feel sufficiently loved to only reflect this experience. And not, entangled in the lusts that it does not know how to unravel; which embitters, for some and for others, the existence!, with words, gestures and attitudes; and that instead of being surrounded by beauty, emphasizes its ugliness.
With the simple admission of the evidence, in each dawn there is a new option that cannot be wasted. Because each time that the being surrenders itself!, whatever its activity is, it discovers its grandiosity. On the other hand, each time that, suppressed, it retracts, is scarce in its service, doubts in its dedication and faced with the challenges it becomes frightened, alas!, then it becomes unrecoverable waste. It converts into random manias that do not admit surprises or gifts, incapable of offering with its presence, and even less to be a remedy!... with its beauty.
This is not the faithful way. This ruin is not necessary. It is not necessary to fall into it, to later try to overcome it, when we are already, in ourselves, overcoming!
Although it advises us and warns us, our own delegation, that we are not overcoming but suppuration!; and that we have to be in permanent treatment of the ungodly dehiscence that… degrade us!
It calls!... it calls for, the prayer, for the prestige of our presence.
The prayer calls for!... the transparency.
The prayer calls for!, the condescension that adapts. That becomes a layer of tenderness. It becomes caresses of listening. It becomes, of every sense, a feeling; a feeling of harvests: harvests of colours, aromas, royalties of elegance, of blessed presence.
Less is treason. Less is flight. Less is… to deny! Less is failure. Less is… unpresentable!
The Revelation of prayer is to reclaim, in every moment, our revealed presence; in which each offers its message, gives its blessing at the same time it receives it, and devotes with passion!, without reservations for the trip back. Because there is no turning back! There is expansion and wishes of anxiety, of infinite anxieties!, of experiences of eternities.
To awaken to resurrected consciences that become immortal, and that wander lovingly through the Universes in all its corners.
There is no subtraction or division. There are additions and multiplications.
They lead us, and offer us permanently… new spaces and dimensions. Open the lens of our sense!
Do not stay in the obstinate hedonism, which is the product of slavery!, of the kidnapping!, the prison!...; of these prisons of the soul…
To pass through the bars is our idyll. To dissolve the shackles is our function. To open the way swimming!... is our progress. Without kidnapping. The sea and the love await us, as a faithful reflection of the blue that envelops us, that affects us… generously.
Thresholds contemplate us, from far and near. And places us on precipices to teach us how to fly; to take away the fear of the jump… and give us the certainty that we are going to float.
The abysms are not infernos waiting to punish us. They are the crypt of the Great consecrated Temple from which emanate the mysteries; from where secrets bustle. Everything that arouses our curiosity. Everything that attracts us for the bond of love, willing to melt in the midst of Creation, and that she will use us as elements according to the occasion: now, as lights; tomorrow, mountain; the next, a garland, then as fire…
No matter in what the Creation entertains, if I am in the mass of it; if I am fermenting, like good bread, to meet with the fire of passion… that lets me become an unforgettable delicacy.
Nectar are the lives, and not, ploughs of torture.
Nectar are the actions, and not, the lost possessions.
Nectar of illusions that adorn our sounds, are the true words, and not, those which announce fears.