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If the wind doesn't push me, if it doesn't try to make me fall down, I will not know how to walk in the windstorm



If all was easy, wine wouldn't be worth, and human life would be like the life of a stone that is dragged by water. There wouldn't be either impressionist pictures or lives that would be exhausted because of having fought for freedom, or poems that would denounce the destroyers of the life. If there were not tyrants, it would be more complicated loving the deep value of the freedom. If there had never been squalid inquisitors, it would be more arduous that science was deemed a great treasure, and so do the logical methodology, and the prudence, and the intellectual humility, and the mental objectivity. If there had never been squalid inquisitors, we would hardly have taken out of our heart poems that would be bloody because of our love for the freedom of thinking, the life and the happiness. If pain didn't exist, or sadness, or suffering, personal happiness wouldn't be a conquest, we wouldn't become skilled in the art of being happy; happiness would be gifted as the color of a flower, or as the flavor of the spices.

And if you weren't crying, I wouldn't be able to comfort you. If you didn't feel lonely, I hardly could keep you company. And if you didn't cry, you would find more complicated to be aware of the times when you are glad, and you would likely find harder to sympathize with those who are crying.

And if we never saw our existence at stage, it would be unlikely to grasp and help those who see their existence and their future at stage, and who see the existence and the future of their loved ones at stage.

I appreciate all the pain I sufffer, because this pain makes me stronger, and because it compels me to become the builder of my own fate, to decide who I am, what is worth for me, and what my life will be like. The darkness compels me to settle down beside the light. The hate that rips up my meat helps me to settle beside the unconditional love. And I decide to stay beside the light and the love as the identity signal of my existence, as waybill, as a source of happiness.

And I don't need to believe in any religion to proclaim all theses ideas or follow any messiah, or being more than an imperfect human being. From everything around me, I intuit and love a misterious spirit; a soul that embraces me. This misterious being doesn't come up from any doctrine or spiritual arrogance, or mithology, The roots of this being are deeply buried in the existence and nobody can describe or explain this being.

If the wind doesn't push me, if it doesn't try to make me fall down, I will not know how to walk in the windstorm. If my heart has never a breaking pain, I'll never learn to walk and to love with a breaking pain in my heart. If all was easier and I didn't need to strive to pave the way to a bright future, this bright future wouldn't be so mine, and I wouldn't be so me, and all would be worse.     


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