What have you made of yourself... if I have given you everything?


It is common to get carried away... by the burnished anguish of awakening, because... memory reminds us of what is pending, what is absent, what is necessary, what is wanted, what is had, what is kept, what is lied about, what is forgotten...

And it is equally frequent to "indulge", in that tide of humanity that lives fighting, and fighting, that lives events without meaning, under the protection of wills, reasons, and explanations.

An existential baroque style, full of filigree, that lets little air pass through...; that takes a long time to stretch out...; that yearns not for dawn light, but for the accommodating darkness of night.

To the extent that the being allows these attitudes, it aggravates its awakening to love. He experiences it as an effort, as work, as "difficult"...

In fact, the whole process... of these characteristics, is due to the demand that, with imposing eagerness, the consciousness develops in order to try, again and again, and again, to make the world in our image and likeness.

And it turns out... it resists.

We don't really know what "the world" is about, but it can be related to “what is close", "the environment", "proximity"...; contacts, kindness, courtesy, respect...

The prototypes of culture, teaching and knowledge greatly hinder our originality, our perspective, our expectations.

The Prayerful Call highlights the inconveniences of being, of doing...that, loaded with reasons, events and happenings, does not promulgate projects, novelties, adaptations... but remains in a rigid disposition to calculate, condemn, prosecute...

When our reference is discovered! -under the Prayerful Call- in Creation, in the Creative Mystery, to present ourselves to that call, with that baggage, is... fearful; it is... unsettling.

Because it immediately comes to us... –due to evidence- that, when they call us, they would ask us:

"What did you do, what do you do with the talents I gave you, with the chances you had, with the circumstances that... happened?

Do you think that I abandoned you? Do you think that... this whole world, created for each other and connected to each other, was made by you...?

Haven't you noticed... haven't you noticed my mysterious hand, in the coincidences, in chances, in the unforeseen, in the unexpected, in luck, in accident...?

Have you not noticed my Breath, in your dreams, in your kind feelings...?

Have you not noticed my loving hand... in your loves...?

Have you not noticed the alerts I have sent to you, in your feelings...?".


And it could... be heard as well, as a culmination:

"What have you made of yourself... if I have given you everything? Everything that you... needed. Everything that allowed you... to... be, to feel, to serve...

What have you done with yourself..., that you have forgotten my Love?

Do you think that you have continued because of your strength and your capabilities? Don't you realise that every single one of your heartbeats... I have breathed them in?

What have you made of yourself...? That in life... I have given to you; in life of eternities, I have endowed you!

You have stoned them as your own, and there is no harvest but dryness…

There is no sweetness but bitterness...

What have you made of yourself, with all that I have... and I love you?

Yes, when we are called to pray... the murmurs of the Creator Mystery do not stop; they are amplified!... And it is our mission to listen to them!; to listen to them!, to interpret them!, to follow them and to consent to them. Because on this depends our solidarity, what is surprising, joyful, new, renewed, what is regenerated! What we really are!... but we have changed.

The being has twisted in its own being. And he has put his love into practice... turning the subtle into quicksand...; turning that "wordless" into just another tool.

The senses, the feelings... have been placed at the service of others; of others similar ones... and of the own soul, which claims power.

The being has not been allowed itself -"the being has not allowed itself"- to be an Awakened consequence of a Mystery of Love, as all the true loves are.

The Praying Call... suggests to us, with elegance and rigorous gentleness, to listen... to our living mystery. May we, in addition, listen... to what we suppose, is the whisper of the Creator Mystery. To listen to the silence, so that, when we dare to speak, we do so without profaning the temple.

And so, let our words resound in the Templar dome like divine sounds... that make the darkness shine. That makes patches whiten by diluting them. That they make us discover "the right measure" of our dedication; that we appreciate what is needed; may we be a permanent support for what we long for, as a way of communion, collaboration and consciousness of being connected!... That life needs everyone! That feelingis... a permanent miracle.

That when choosing situations, attitudes, decisions... it be done with the conviction that the being has listened to itself, and has listened!... to the murmur of the Eternal.

And with that murmur he is ready to modify, change, adapt, discover, offer...; to feel worthy of the talents received... without complaints!, exchanging protest for a serving and rewarded fulfilment.

In this way, the everyday becomes extraordinary; the ordinary becomes flow; the usual becomes... surprising. Such a different life!

Thus, when we are called again to pray, let us listen to praise and merciful complaisance of the Unmentionable.

To feel worthy of having been kind, condescending, complaisant, courageous, supportive and... with the reference of Love as our flag.

Mercy dawns... and, with it, the ointment of forgiveness.

Mercy dawns... And with it, human consciousness awakens to its innocence.

Mercy dawns every day!... with its siren song, with its lively silhouette of coloured crystals; suggestive... demanding... and sweet as the restlessness of a poppy, which seems to call us by its perfume.

Mercy dawns!... to rescue our rough edges, our prejudices, our "impossibilities": a scourge that has nothing to do with the Eternal.

Mercy dawns from the Creative Mystery, enveloping us with a mantle of tenderness.

It does not condemn us; it does not punish us. It encourages us; it 'innocents’ our life.

Mercy becomes the representative of this DAWN-LOVE... to remind the being -in its Prayerful Call- that it is capable, that it is recursive, that it is necessary!, that it is indispensable!....

That this Mercy takes pity on the ravings... and calls us to the right direction: that one... that one that shows itself to us in what is in need.

When I ask myself: "What have I done with myself?" –because the whisper and murmur of the Eternal has asked me -may I answer myself by saying: "with the tenderness of Mercy I have allied, and my sufferings have been soothed; my pains have faded away; my anxieties and fears... the wind has taken them away".

Subject to the complaisance of the Mystery of the Beloved, we awaken to that Dawn in love... which fills us with surprises, with questions of innocence, because we have been covered by the Mercy.

It is not just another day!

And that must stress that daily. It is not another day; it is an inaugurated Universe that dawn has given to us. It is a new Universe full of details!... and of meticulous complaisance, for us to be able to feel what is truly inspired!, what is truly in love, and discard the splashes of vanity, of circumstantial and indolence.

We have been called to renew ourselves, to be rearranged, to be regenerated... To feel the exceptionality of our presence from our being. Without vanity, arrogance, pride, without idolatry, without egomania. With the simple whistling of the wind. Being a new and renewed breath... of the Creator Mystery. Feeling in the exceptionality of our influences!... Doing our arts of complaisant adaptation... And valuing virtue as a permanent exercise.

The Call may be felt as overwhelming but actually, as we look at ourselves, we feel that it is absolutely complaisant! Otherwise we’d not be alive, “we would not be alive".

But by giving us -without limits- new and new heartbeats... loaded with confidence -trust!- in our configuration, in our reviews of gifts received... -oh, and so often ignored!-... it is not a call of self-punishment; of imperial whip that demolishes itself.

It is rather... vaporous water that envelops us to make, of our skin, a subtle sensitive veil... kind!... accomplice... of so many gifts received!






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