The orchestra sounds in these brief moments of joy that someone gives us. Few moments that stretch over the years and that get the nuances of the seasons, rain, sun, winds, heavy snow of beautiful winters. The orchestra sounds inside us, everytime stronger. Sometimes it is soft like a distant background. It is the soundtrack of a privilege. The privilege of existing beside the thorns that scratch our skin and the breeze that kisses this skin. This privilege is based on the fact of being, of feeling, of being alive, of loving, of longing, of reasoning, of creating, of building, of producing happiness every day, in every bouquet of moments that existence gives us.
The perception of privilege melts down the most powerfull chains. The most powerfull chains are the most easily fusible, and the most easily destroyable. We only need the awareness of being privileged ones. And we are privileged beings whatever happens. We are privileged because we have lived beside those who have sadly gone away. We are privileged because we have understood the meaning of having been loved and the meaning of loving. We are privileged because we have created and built. We are privileged because we have felt, because we feel, because we exist.
Why we are not a dog, or a fish, or a gorilla? Why we are not any other person? The fact of being who is each one of us determinates what we do, what we think, what we feel, what we decide... And we can't choose who is each one of us, in spite that this choice defines us. We can't decide who we are. If we were God, we would be God without our consent.
Then... take a deep breath. Something or Someone has made you. You have been made. Even that part of you that you have made with your efforts have been made by you because you are who you are, and because you have the capacity of deciding to make that. Take a breath! Relax your arms! Nobody can produce Sunrise with his effort.