From a certain time -who knows when...- the being of humanity changed the rhythm of its beat. The one before the change was a rhythm of... nature, of intimate relationship with the whole environment, as well as a rhythm of community, of communal species, in which each individual conserved its particular quality, but needed the rest to exercise it.
A beat of humility... in which the being felt linked, tuned, from its identity, with its group of species, with the environment in which it lived and with the most significant external events: from the birth of dawn, to the starry nights.
But perhaps little by little, or perhaps due to an unexpected upturn of someone who felt that he was superior, interpreter, intermediary and, consequently, imposer of rules, norms, attitudes..., the beat, the beat that was set for the being to smile, to enjoy, to perceive life... changed. And it became... independent.
From being 'interdependent'... it became independent. It distinguished itself from its group, detached itself from its environment and ignored the rhythms of his Creation.
Humility was left behind, and power was put in front.
And another beat was established... another beat.
From the one who included individuality within the communal, from the one who was in tune with his environment, from the one who looked with wonder at the outside... we moved on to the discussion, to the independence of the individual over the group, over the environment, and ignoring the Creational.
The beat was already different: the beat of the blow!
Gone was the clapping... soft and enveloping, with laurel leaves and roses. No. Now it was the blows underhanded by the self-importance each one exhibited. Goodbye humility.
Faith... that once existed, that believing... without senses, that does not see, does not hear, does not taste, does not touch, does not... does not perceive perfumes -similar to water, which is odourless, colourless, insipid, tasteless, but which is fundamental-..., Faith became iron! -like the chemical element symbol (Fe)-. It became the iron of rigidity, of personal achievement, of individual exploits.
And the sense of community, the sense of solidarity, the sense of conviviality, began to disintegrate.
Now the beat was of an open hand. From the muffled blow, to the open hand clarified, that commands that orders, that controls. That writes the history of wars, of sieges, of confrontations!... That devastates the earth!... That violates the seas!...
Where is... Faith?
It became a waiting period.
Religions gathered and brought out their banners, announcing their unique and true truths; imposing them... in open and closed hands, colonising feelings... attractions... dedications, inspirations, dreams, fantasies...
How little was left of that beat!
A soft nostalgia, a thirst... a prayerful thirst in which to take refuge from so many wounds... from so many closed blows and imposition of an open hand!
Hardly... hardly at times... the old beat resounds. And sparks are heard... calling out, crying out for a conversion, for a rebellion, for an innovation, for a hopeful belief in the very being... already beaten, wounded and traumatised.
The closed and open hand beats became overbearing, outrageously important, deliberately defiant... of everything! Towards everything!
That tuning of species, of liberating consciousness... Because there were no imposing rules, and less still, impostors...
Some were missing "something", without really knowing what.
But the imposing obsession of command, the obsessive repetition, the compulsive gaining and stockpiling, the permanent sectarianism... which arrogated affections in order to individualise itself... -affective and mental power, arrogance of knowledge, erudition of power-... became castes, destructive pyramids... in which abuses and impositions are the norm.
And impunity is becoming ever more prevalent.
"Over there is the land. Over there are the others. Over there are the stars"...
What used to count was accumulation. What prevails is arrogance.
And beings prostituted themselves. Yes, they gave each other, to the highest bidder.
It was normal -and it is normal- to buy and sell oneself for money, for interests, for affections, for... importance.
Fidelity to the Revealed became a memory of stories.
And this is how we go about our daily lives: in the vertigo, in the unbridled eagerness to achieve, to secure!...; avoiding any risk, but in reality continually producing risks.
Seeking security. And in this search for security, new insecurities are created.
Because living is not a life insurance. Living is a creativity, for a permanent Creation... that contemplates, that meditates, that prays. And with it... he is astonished, he discovers himself as sent, as chosen to do, as discoverer of his place... even if it means discomfort, difficulty, but knowing that it is.
Oh! But the environment of buying and selling is there, of easy pleasure, of elusive moments... that are self-contemplating.
These are the new "truths". They are the deteriorated and past affections, which did not work... but which become fashionable again and again, to further entrench the blow and the importance of feeling "free"...
Without real awareness that the very expression is false... since he does not know how to identify the one who enslaves him; since he does not get rid of it, and he is the first to enslave. Each in his own position and in his own place.
The Praying Call is identified as the beat, both from the point of view of the precision of that beat that labels curves, that specifies waves...; that has a centre and an expansion. From that beat that sounds...
And it is not a question of returning or going back to another past instance! No.
It is a matter of clarifying and getting out of this freehand blow... and making a liberating passage: the one that interprets and listens to its footsteps; that looks at the green of the leaves; that is fascinated by the flower. The one who writes a poem and falls in love forever. He who knows that he is... loved... cared for... kept!
That is there. That is there waiting...; awaiting our arrival.
Which undoubtedly requires effort, dedication, perseverance, confidence. And a joyful hope of feeling... close to that life that demands us, that awaits us, that waits for us!
 Fe in spanish means faith.