Saturday, May 31, 2014

Badly wounded by a deep blue

 "Nakedness is the most beautiful dress but..."

"...freedom is the best ideology"

Many years ago, I was badly wounded by a deep and bright blue; this light and the scent of pines and salt, beside the Mediterranean sea, touched my heart. I was decorated for my sevices with woods and oceans, just for loving their shape, their mood, their poem... Earth's soul decorated me, and the reward was an intense sense of hapiness. This hapiness walks with me when I'm in the heart of nature, but It also comes with me when I'm in the core of a big town or in an artificial environment, because our mind cant be encaged. I try to report on what I feel when I watch my homeland that is called wood, or my homeland called beach, or my homeland called mountain or lake or river or desert... Our homeland has an original face, an stamp, an ancient desing that has a strong relation with our brains. We belong to the landscape. The landscape has made us. If we destroy the image of the landscape we destroy a part of ourselves, our origin, our beloved mother. I resigned from the eagerness of amassing comforts, because the freedom that nature gives me is the sweetest treasure, the sketches of nature when It imagines our bodies, our skin, our lands... are the most beautiful pictures that anybody ever can see. I've resigned from the din of civilization to devote myself to the nature's sounds. I settled in the sand of a lonely shore, near the trees. 
Nature played  a valuable part in the formation of my ecological awareness when I was a child. I remember myself running almost naked surrounded by pines and oaks, or swimming in a clear and clean water. I enjoyed the great feast of the wood when it was raining and all the scents spread. I felt that rain converted the wood into a festival of soft lights and divine aromas. There's no use fighting for anything different to nature. Nature is our mother.
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To all the post about Naturism
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Thursday, May 29, 2014

Dust of foam



In the wide light, bumping into waves,
water is burning, shining in blue,
earth's skin converting in man's skin,
as an alive brown flower in bloom.
The warm meat loves the grand bright sea, 
and the wind moans its deep truth.

I freely watch the far horizon,
breathing salted pure air
with dust of foam.
The ocean and I are oneness,
at once, and in an instant, that never finishes.
I'm only me and the sea, the sea and I,
when we live in the core of light, we fly,
inside the instant that grows and stays,
and eternally smiles and prays.
The rumble of the waves 
is the psalm of Earth.

Monday, May 26, 2014

Catalonia's people talked in the EU votes. Nothing can silence the voice of a nation that knows that is a nation.



Once again, yesterday, Catalonia's people talked in the EU votes. Yesterday, Catalonia voted to the parties that defend the celebration of a referendum to decide if Catalonia remains in Spain or if Catalonia turns into an independent state. In spite the strong and furious opposition of Spanish government, people have spoken, and people is the only legitimate power. More legitimate than the heritage of the kings, than traditions, than legality, than the army, than the violence. Nothing can silence the voice of a nation that knows that is a nation, and now Europe, and the world, knows what says this voice and which is its decision. 

Here you have the links to some international newspapers that reported on the EU votes in Catalonia:

REUTERS


NBC NEWS


LAINFO.ES:


PRESSTV:


BBC:


NEW YORK TIMES


ASIAONE:


THE LOCAL:


CHANNELS NEWS ASIA:
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To all the posts about Catalonia
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Sunday, May 25, 2014

Sitges and "Artamore". Art and Beauty. Art and love.


Yesterday, we visited an artistic shop of Sitges that is on the one hand an Arts Gallery and by the other hand It is a shop too. Its name is “Artamore”.
In Artamore you will find artistic handmade products, crafts, paintings, pottery, all sort of unique designs. With these products, the artists have explored all the possibilities of creativity.
The customers can often find works made from reused or recycled materials, with a stamp of identity impregnated of beauty and originality that goes further than the products you can find in any other shop.
Several artists periodically exhibit and offer their works in Artamore, so that the shop hasn't ever the same face.
Artamore also offers the possibility of designing and producing personalized works, in the way the customer wants: presents for weddings, aniversaries, trade designs, products for corporations, etc.  

You can visit their facebook:


and their web:


After our visiting to Artamore, that is in the core Sitges, we enjoyed the beauty of Sitges, the coquetry of the harbour's siren, and the wet and marine afternoon of may.  

Thursday, May 22, 2014

The wild sea of Trafalgar. The beauty of the nude light.


Sometimes in live, I have known people that don't understand how can I be impressed by that as a place, as a beach, as a shore, as a rough sea. But Trafalgar is a Cape full of deep sense. If you watch the deep blue of the sea, you know that below dark and rough waters, there are wrecks and treasures, perhaps the bones of the old sailors or the warriors who were killed in a terrible battle, perhaps the blood of many people that thought that were giving their lives for a homeland or a king. Trafalgar is the silence of words and the simphony of wind, the cold of ocean and the hot of sunrays. Some centuries ago, Trafalgar was a place for fighting and dying, today It is a place for singing, for swimming and sunbathing naked, for writting poetry, for thinking about the beauty of nature, for enjoying freedom and loneliness. 
Trafalgar means a lot for those who see in the Earth the soul of the ancestors, for those who enjoy the deep power of the natural and virgin places. Sometimes, lying on the sand, It seemed to me I heard a gunshot, or the cry of a soldier. Probably It was just the wind, the strong wind, the howling wind, the “Levante” frightening, the wind of east, the wind able to drag a big vessel offshore, the wind that moans the claims of the sirens, the anger of a God, the enraged poem of the hardness of the existence, that is so beautiful and so cruel. 
Below the lighthouse there is a wild and nice beach, a clothe optional beach, a paradise for the last or new hippies, or for the people who love the freedom, the liberty of a little of chaos, the pleasure of living (at least for a while) without a clock, without timetables, without social rules, without protocols, trying to discover the power of existence on the sound and on the nude light of the landscape.











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To all the posts about Naturism.
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Sunday, May 18, 2014

Let's go back to the time of love and flowers


  When I was reading the book "Fiesta" of Hemingway (to improve my english writting) I discovered the expression "Let's go back" Then I put myself to learn the use and the meaning of this expression, and so I started to write phrases that contained "Let's go back". The result was this poem that talks about the peace and that feels a little bit of melancholy towards the times of love and flowers. Then I put music and saved it. I hope you like and you sing it; surely better than me.




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To all the posts about "my music"
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Friday, May 16, 2014

First light



Let's go back to the first light
when we enjoyed the being
dazzling shower of sun drops 
in a strange world of cold.

Our first sight, was a puzzle
all made of fear and hope
holy scents of bright mother
spreading always around.

Slowly, the mind awakes
understanding the unknown.
The unknown is all, and increases
the more we learn, more it grows.

It's a hard work, the long life,
growing till be a child,
we'll have had to burn much clothes,
a lot of empty gold gods.

One day we thought we were adults,
grand men or women, wise lords.
Strong Time’s hammer sculpted us
with a mysterious love.

At the end, we keep our hands,
our eyes, a smile, a few words,
a guitar, a sunset, a clean beach,
and the slow pace of joy.

Jeremias Soler

Monday, May 12, 2014

Sunset's land



In sunset's land,
where mountain gets in red and thyme presents its soul,
my name is uttered,
from wall of stone to wall of stone.
The night grows up
and stars tremble and shine, 
and scent of pines spreads around the sight
of sky dressed in blood and night.

And borns, the calm
as if the ethereal sea all made of dying light
flooded the space and land, 
as it embraced your skin and took up to the sky. 
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To all the posts about poetry
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Saturday, May 10, 2014

This weekend, Terrassa is a Modernist Town again.


Today and tomorrow, Terrassa celebrates its Modernist Fair. The people of the town get dressed in vintages clothes. Wherever you walk, you find expositions, gadgets, shows, performances, traditional trade, crafts... The city gets full of people as if it was the town's festival. 
Terrassa has a lot of Modernist Houses, little palaces built in the style of Antoni Gaudi. One of the pupils of Gaudí was Lluís Muncunill, the Architect of the Masia Freixa, one of the most beautiful designs of the city.
















Museu de la Ciència i Tècnica de Catalunya (Terrassa)


                                           Museu de la Ciència i Tècnica de Catalunya (Terrassa)



Friday, May 9, 2014

The orchesta sounds (II)



The orchestra sounds,
the orchesta that celebrates the privilege.
A man laughs and has a clown's nose,
and children jump on sand dunes.
The waves come and go
while the sun is going down
and dyes landscape in red.
Someone is dying,
but before leaving life,
he dances with the person he love most.
They follow the melody
of a young man with dreadlocks
that plays a guitar and sings 
an old John Sebastian's song:
"And then all that I know
I've learned, assuming my kid.
And all my deepest worries
must be true historical cartoons..."
And really they dance badly,
but they know that the sweetest experiences in life
are those we have not learned.
Wherever someone walks,
between the forest and the beach,
he, or she, feels a mixture of scents,
salt, pine, grass, algae ...
And when you want, you can sit or walk. 
And you think that the fact that you exist 
is a good experience, 
in spite that tomorrow 
you will have gone away.
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Thursday, May 8, 2014

The orchesta sounds (I)



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. 
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Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Spain is not U.K. And the President Rajoy is not David Cameron.



Spain is not U.K. And the President Rajoy is not David Cameron. 
U.K. has accepted a referendum for Scotland, to decide if It remains in U.K. 
Spain despises the will of the most of Catalan People.
President Rajoy does not tell the truth when he says that the most of Catalonia doesn't want the referendum to decide if Catalonia goes on into Spanish state or if Catalonia turns into an independent state. President Rajoy should dominate maths. 87 deputies of a total number of 135 deputies, belong to parties that claim the referendum. This parties won the elections of the last 25th of November with this claim on their electoral programs. Last September 11th, more than two milions of persons went out to the roads and streets of Catalonia and built an human chain than was 400 quilometers long, from the northest point of Catalonia till the southest. 
Catalonia is marching with the will full of joy, with a pacific mentality, with an open hand offered to Spain, with the democratics values in their hearts... to built the desires of a nation that has been despised for centuries. 

We ask for to Mr Rajoy's behaviour only a little bit of dignity. We understand he wish a Catalonia into Spanish State but... Does he want this against the will of the people of Catalonia? What is the sense of a possession that works against the will of the people who are possessed? Why Mr Rajoy doesn't tell the truth? The maths say that most of Catalan People wants to vote to decide the future of Catalonia, but Mr Rajoy doesn't believe in maths or perhaps he lies or perhaps he thinks that citizens are idiots. His blindness guides the future of Spain towards an horizon of slavery and conflicts. The international thinkers, newspapers, governators, states... are not idiots, and they realise that between Spain and U.K. by now, there are deep and haunting differences. The differences consist of the democratic sense of states and persons.
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To all the posts about Catalonia
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Monday, May 5, 2014

The dark nights of the life.



Sometimes I feel that life winds and twists around me, 
like a rope that brings to live and tries to tie me.
I want to be reckless and transmit so much braveness as I can 
to my son and daughter.

In the dark nights of the life
I hear warblings and the wind's song
and my hypothetic braveness.
It is only a dress that covers my fear
because the beauty of the landscape 
asleep my mind with honey dreams and nude light.

I hatch my brood with my blindness
avoiding the images 
that destroy the core of my bones
and, as better I can, 
I sketch on my face 
something that seems a smile.
The enforced smile, then, 
turns into a sun's ray that appears after storm.

Those to come 
deserve our love
as we have deserved the love 
of those that have gone away.
Every voice singing from the deep of the heart
springs an only poem, an unique piece
that have ever yet been heard upon Earth.
Our voice borns from the love that flows with our blood, inside us.
Sometimes our love seems cold because It is free,
but free love is perhaps the only sincere love,
because It only seeks the good for those It loves.

I cry some nights, 
because my own weakness scares me,
the same as any.
But I know that no one will be dropped by death,
It is one of my deep secrets.
I can't say that I believe this, because I know this.
This idea allow me to go forward.
There's another idea I know too:
All persons are equal,
In spite the facts or evidences.
If each one of us would be the thief that yesterday stole a bank,
then, each one of us would has stolen the same bank.

Jeremias Soler


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