The sunrise advises us that… we have to renovate the loves.

 The nocturnal leaves us… the mystery of having, once again, awoken.


It is as if we are submerged in an immense capacitation that does not have -does not have- limits. Our reason puts the limits, our manner of comprehending, our form of observation.


 It is similar to a great storm. When… millions and millions of drops of water fall, could we count them?, could we see a cloud discharging?, or would we see the sky, grey, uniform… and restless?

 When it clears, everything seems to be very outlined, very uniformed, very determined and above all very defined.

 And once again, the thinking becomes obstructed, it makes mistakes, it does not clear! It is guided by the appearance. It is guided by the scissors that make the pattern.

 It should clear with this infinity of stimulus and of events. But, as it gives an interpretation, shortened, encapsulated, and of oneself, it sees nothing more… nothing more is heard, nothing more is tasted, nothing more is smelt, it does not know how to touch.


 When our ‘mental-ness’ clears, our humour, our sentimentality, it doesn’t matter with what cuts appear or how diffused it is done, the so-called “reality”.

 We have to know the soft haze, sweet and kind, that envelops all! What gives the elixir of the encouragement. That provides the smile faced with the grace. That makes us ‘future-ize’… and fills us with possibilities.


Ay!... When the mind and the feelings become cloudy, and everything seems to be known, the being writhes, becoming a tightened screw. And its attitude is of a drilling machine that tightens, and tightens, until it manages to fracture the wood that it pretended to join.

Ay!...  When the mind and the feelings cloud, only the sigh alleviates. It seems as if the soft velvet of the Divine Kindness had left, had abandoned us. But it is not like this. It is a soft test… because of what before was realised and for what the future has prepared -in this Mystery… of the enamoured life-.

 We could be as bitter as the dagger that is plunged and, in the pain, gives the agony. But the design is not of nails, daggers, stilettos or swords. We are a design of feathers! of birds flying; of leaves, like pompanos smiling to the dew. We are fragile and gullible, growingly with illusion. We are a doing… without ‘buts’! It is like this how the being, really, is sane.


 When it is decided, on the contrary, to make “our” world, create “our” life…, the tangles become knots; the nets do not untangle; to fish becomes impossible; the anger, the owner.

Ay!... the clumsiness of vanity, of a power believer in empty faculties!

 How many smiles, how much happiness wasted because of a reason with foundation.


 The heaven is so close!, that we do not notice that, in each inhalation, in us penetrates; and in each exhalation, we show our supplication, consciously or unconsciously. Now is enough of… the manoeuvring evidences!


And it arrives and penetrates, or caresses us with the soft breeze. And feeds us, encourages us.

 And, usually, what we exhale is a proposal, a disagreement -as if we had not inhaled-.

 And each time that we see, smell, hear, taste or touch, what do we do?, what function do these holes achieve? Permit the entrance of the Breath of the Divine.

 Is it perhaps that we were made perforated… for what?! So that we recognise, so that we notice! Like a perforated card that is introduced do identify who carries it. So that we notice what surrounds us, what arrives to us. Not so that we analyse it with the scalpel of our consciousness: of challenging and of confrontation, judgement, prejudice or… rejection!

Ay! It seems to be similar to when the biblical expressed that the Divinity made each being pass in front of the human being, so that the name was given, so that it was called something. Evidently, so it was felt to be… united. The name united, the word fused.

 And carrying on with the story, this was not sufficient -as it would be nowadays-. From he itself, beauty and fantasy had to emanate. And then he did love himself, through the ‘feminine’.

 But soon… -soon, very soon- he rejected it or put it in doubt, or criticised, or mistreated it. What an insatiable creature of power! What disrespect towards so much kindness, that gushes, that the Creation took charge of and is in charge of demonstrating! What spitefulness! As if it was abandoned. Unjust!


 The Mystery waits, silently. And, at the same time overflows and overflows with abundances!... pulses of events, coincidences, the unforeseen… that are the gifted surprises, to discover what really maintains us.


 The same as the coming and going of the sea or… the insinuating surge attracts us as if hypnotised, it is similar to -when we are awake- the coming and going and the beauty with which we adorn, we are adorned! And we have to show these adornments!

 The beauty with which we have been created is not there to be saved! It is there to be shown.

 We are to be enchanted! Like when we say, automatically: “enchanted to meet you”.

 We are to be enchanted, not to destroy ourselves.


 When we were born, life was promised to us! And for this, one had to live.

 When we lived, and we were conscious of this, we were promised future! And it had to be constructed each day.

 When the future was realised, we were promised longevity! And we had to assume this perspective of disdain or… of something worse.

 When was assumed the distance and faraway, we were promised eternal life! And ay!, those who believed, continue indefinitely eternal. Those who not, got mixed up in the cycle of returning to be material, particulars… dissolvent. ‘Di-solvent’.

 Yes! Is a very lineal figure… and maybe it is not so true, but the promise, yes is true. If not, life would have finished a long time ago.

 The continuous promises -as if they put the plate on the table- that makes the Creation, is the attire for our presence. They are… the notes for our essence. They are… the dreams -yes, the dreams- that become eternally truthful.


 We were given, as a species, a land to get to know, seas to navigate, rivers to refresh. All pleasure! And immediately, when we believed to know what was a forest and a jungle -when we believed to know what is the forest or the jungle-, the man put a mark, to limit!, to parcel spaces, to create -as was done in Africa- countries of clear warlike re-colonization, so that amongst themselves they annihilated each other.

The seas were marked, the miles, the rivers… Everything was left perfectly classified. But terribly treated as an object, enslaved and… with an owner! Since when does the forest have an owner?! Who is the owner of the jungle or the desert!?

 There was not… there were not libertarian calls to claim so many pieces, so many divisions. Each one seemed to conform with its territory.

 And like this, everybody had their own element of endeavour. And, consequently, could litigate as much as it wished, stopping to seeing that the Universe was there, that the promised existed.


 Is it Now! the moment to re-accommodate our blindness? Is it Now! the moment to modify our striving…? Or do we have to wait a… greater demonstration of power and destruction, to strengthen my guilt and the irremediable correction?

 Is it not possible to begin now? Is it not possible -is it not possible- to untie myself from such fracture and solder myself as an infinite, dreamer?

 Would we lose something, if we did it? Would we stop being the lords and ladies, if we tried now to leave the fractures… and be melted in ideals?


In some way –although it is like this: “in some way”- small!, so that there is no fright, an enchantment, a longing, an illusion… could sprout up? Although the rest is in sectors, partial and dominated by the inquisitive reason.

 It is possible that the time has arrived. That the time and the now combine… in now! Now!, now!... Now!




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