And knowing that the whole moves, the being tends, in its paths of history, to settle in truths, in securities, in dominions, in possessions…

And the sensation of movement is given by justifications.

It seems that millions of courses are needed to modify a decision, a proposal.

On the one hand, the great justification is the word "always": "I always... I always sit here, I always have this place, I always...".

The word "always" is a worthy aspiration, because it places us in our immortal presence, but in an exercise of it, rather retained, rough, customary...; without the curious attitude of courage.

And it is insisted over and over again: "No. It's just that here, always...". "It's just that I always...".

It seems as if the beings have been put as nails or pins in one place and cannot move... and thus guarantee the safe movement and possession of "their place".

 

The being, with its consciousness, has mapped the position that this one, that one, those... must occupy.

If one looks a little, at oneself, it is possible to discover that… little -"little"- has moved from its place; in the global sense of its consciousness.

 And at the same time there are the throbbing demands of what is pending, of what is absent, of what is imaginable, of what is 'dreamable'…

Thus, each one can contemplate its own "relics" to be made.

The Praying Call reveals to us those positions, which do not correspond to the place we inhabit in the Universe. That we don't know what it is; that we define it based on our egocentrism... and we can say that we are at the right "of", at the left above "of"... But where is that?

So, we remain cloistered with the pole star, the north, the south, the east and the west and... the father, the mother, the child....

 The creative consciousness of the Universe has not yet blossomed.

 It is a "proposal" that beats in the stars, that endures in the verse, that takes shape in the poem... and that makes us feel wind: invisible, transparent, mobile and sonorous at the same time; all simultaneously.

They take away our chairs, our doors, our windows...; they take away what is mine...

 The wind cannot say to itself that it is its own.

And, to that extent, we do not cling to the monolith of a reason, security or belonging. We become volatile travellers, laden –without load!- with stories; with everything to hear, and even more to... to say.

As wind, we listen; we perceive the one who moves us, who needs no effort, who needs no help.

 As wind, we gravitate to give, to serve; so that, with the consciousness of breathing, we can inhale perfumes... listen to the incredible... and pay attention to where they take us.

Converted into transparent and invisible ones, but listeners, speakers and indispensable and necessary at the same time, we cannot be subject to chains, dominions or belongings.

The Praying Sense, in its call, calls us towards the "unfinished": a step of immortality that does not... that does not end. And it does not therefore have something pending, but the pending awaits him... and carries him.

 When we "conclude", we close the doors, cracks, windows… And the being tends to make its nest, but not to promote itself towards new adventures, but to "secure"; to ensure spaces, times... and to make it look good, and thus to be able to tell to future generations.

Isn't it a bit pathetic...?

And to say "pathetic" is to express all that is missing, all that remains to be done, everything that we do not know. Thus, we must conclude with the remains, which most of the time are justifying elements for theoretical "new" expectations.

By those adhesive measures of "always", consciences become conclusive, and time appears, the limit: that fierce marking of history, which marks a beginning and an end. And he usually finishes it off by saying: "That's how it has always been".

 Language has undoubtedly become an accomplice of prison.

We said in another prayerful moment that we were on probation. But we could add, as consciousness passes, that it is an eternal probation...; which is the same as saying "life imprisonment".

Voilà!

Thus fossils, bones, land are perpetuated and preserved… and writing histories that justify the "truths": those that prevail at the time; but which, due to their imperial position, are no different from others of other empires.

And if we continue with the simile of "probation", "life imprisonment"... we should look for or change lawyer, shouldn't we?, to see if this one -before the judge of law, of order, of tradition...- could find some legal loophole so that at least we could have an unconditional, reviewable prison. But it seems to be ...

It's curious -it seems that we're going to take a prayerful leap, but we're not-. Notice that there is "the devil's advocate", isn't there? And it is used on a daily basis: "I'm going to play the devil's advocate: What if everything goes wrong? What if the column falls down? What if...?" .

Okay, okay, okay, okay! And where is God's advocate?

Because, in that conversation, you don't usually say: "Well, now I'm going to play God's advocate: What if things go well for us? What if we do great? What if we get along better? What if we greet better? What if we understand each other? What if we listen to each other? What if we collaborate?".

Ah...

Actually, the devil's advocate is the prosecutor. And we are without defence at the present time.

 And what is our help? "The Name of...". We do have the advocate of the Nameless. Yes, it is that Prayerful Calling our advocate, who pleads to free us from an unfair trial, without evidence!; of a manipulated trial!; from a profited trial!; from a trial of slaves.

And as the literature already says, we have the right to legitimate self-defence.

If we know what our help is, it does not need to be legitimised.

Our origin qualifies us as libertarian defenders, a reflection of Creation. But we need to be aware of it, so as not to fall into the "mob" of the conditional.

Yes, because that mob becomes turbulence, and becomes incisive bars, and the rules of our freedoms are established.

Freedoms that have norms cannot be called "freedoms"; they are simply “regulations”.

It is like when you try to legislate freedom... and from the start you deny liberation.

Look at how societies are set up in states of rights... -which is the closest thing to a tombstone-. Because in the history of humanity, the idea that the rest were useless was imposed and developed by a few people…

And so, immediately each one imposed its own law, and the flights of the wind stopped blowing, and the skeletons of words remained.

The word claims its breath. The word demands its nature. The word as the soul of the wind, whispers!... its presence.

 Its message is not one of submission. It is of relief, comfort, kindness, gentleness, softness, smile...

Words that remain suspended...

And that, to the extent that we pick them up breathing, breathing in listening, we become diverse, original, exceptional, unique; we discover our natures... and we cease to be conditional, conditioned, justifiable, justifying.

We become viable invisibles; viable invisibles that fulfil.

Following the call that promotes us, that places us in complicity with the good, makes of our silence the worthy ally that allows the sound of the word; and makes, of the word, a living story, without conditions...; with the eternal fluttering of the immortal butterfly.

Flying.

***