At noon, the day shrieks under the sun, as if it was alive, as if it was a person. The hotest moment of the day shrieks like a crying girl who misses her life, her dreams, a delightful place to stay and to enjoy.
When this happens, life travellers must roll over and go to the golden city, to the town where the palms grow up towards the sky and the wind moans in the night. Sometimes everybody needs to change the direction of the travel of his or her life, specially when the mistake is obvious. However, many old foggeys stay stranded in their delirious. They writh watching the freedom of the new generations as if the world should have been frozen by the old stoned ideas, the old views, the old fears... The lazy attittude of the foggeys is like the sultry pace of the cowards. We can't be alive if we are not ready to take risks. If we don't dare to accept the possibility of being defeated, we are never going to win. When we leave the amazing and throbbing sense of the life, we are already died.
The old death's carriage whirles around seeking old stranded men or women, looking for empty persons, coward ones, doleful human beings, wilted citizens... I'm not talking about biological death, but about living death. Living death is the death that dominates those who are afraid of being alive. The day in which anyone dies is the day in which anyone decides not learning any more lesson, not discovering any new land, not living any different experience, not dreaming of any amazing future.
We are alive when we decide siphoning off all our existencial fears into a deep and unlimited hope and curiosity.
The vital inspiration wells up from the strong will of going ahead, of peering across the life details, of sucking the existence's beauty, of learning creativity every life's instant. We have the privilege of being, and when we realize what the existence means, we can just be upset and shuddered.
When I was a young child my soul prickled; it wanted to vault over the black fences that demarcated its movements. Isticked out of the windows of my existence and stared at the wild landscape where my body had evolved. My scowling face received the fresh breeze of my country. The plunging way of life of my daily existence had wrought a grimace on the face of my soul. And now, musing, I think that even though every step of our lifes has a sense, I wouldn't like to back into that time. A child can do no more than obeying, because he (or she) has an absolute confidence on the adults, and every child considers adult's world as the best one. But adults are victims too; they have been moulded with the shape that intolerance decided for them. No one who has been sculpted with the rythm of the authoritarianism can be free. The odd thing about it is that nature has produced all these strange phenomenons. We live in an universe that allows the authority of some ones over some other ones. Competition is a tool of the evolution; and so, this is a strange universe; an universe that seems not made for us. We are consciousness with a strong trend towards the love. But if we love anyone, we feel that we must not defeat him or her. We know that we must not destroy anyone, we must not hate anyone... but respect his or her freedom and dignity. Love and vital competition are contradictory ideas, but they both dwell inside everybody. This is the seed of the human inner conflict. Yet, this contradiction doesn't justify desperation, nor sadness, nor violence, nor resignation. We shouldn't agree to accepting a violent way of existing. We can overcome our own way of being. We must overcome it. The future of the human civilitation depends on this surmounting. Every step in the history of Homo sapiens evolution has come after a deep and essential change. We are in a fit state to decide our own evolution. The adding of all the individual decisions will decide the future of human kind and the life of our descendants. Life is not like it is, life is like everyone makes it. We make the life, everyone makes his or her part of the life, everybody is a builder of the life, so... life is not like life is, life is like you make it, like I make it, like everybody makes it.
On the other hand, future is not in the stars, nor in the shape of the sheep guts, nor in the lines of the cafe's foam, nor in the tarot, nor in a glass ball... Future is not written, future is not decided, future is open and depends on many factors; the main factors are the work, the will, the effort, the mood, the hope, the self confidence... And there are other secondary factors like the chance, the coincidence, the random factor, the luck... But the most powerful luck is the endeavour.