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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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.

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:

https://www.facebook.com/artamoresitges?fref=ts

and their web:

http://artamoresitges.com/en/

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.  

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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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

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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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)

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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To "The orchesta Sounds (I)"

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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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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

We'll read, only, the love that is written on trees leaves.

Neither cassocks nor hell ; only the Sun and stars.

Neither crosses , nor torture; smiles and hope.

Neither ruined nor eternal punishment; a path of learning, freedom, life, empathy , beauty, joy.

Neither latin words, nor masses, nor boring or obscure temples; songs under the sun or beside a campfire, songs and dances amid laughter... Poems of forest, sea dragons and fairies, love and peace, roots and mud, snow and nakedness, stone's huts and clean and clear days, birds and hope.

Neither opression or headaches by theological thinking, nor doctrinal and moral disquisitions; only "now", "now" when the sun shines, "now" when it rains, "now" when you laugh and when I laugh. "Now" and what you see in "now", and what you love in "now", and what you enjoy in "now".

Neither vocation nor unavoidable missions imposed, nor chosen people, nor chosen persons; only the freedom to do with life what we feel that we need to do, without anyone deciphering anything to anyone, nor chewing to anyone, nor damaging to anyone. Without anyone coercing people to act by fear or interest. Without eternal rests, without yawns or migraines .

We'll read, only, the love that is written on trees leaves, or in the strings of DNA, or in the form of the waves of the wild beaches, or in the dazzling light of the Sun above the blue sea, or in the dark blue water of the big sea's depths, or in the cool rain, or in the smile of  people. We'll interpret the silence of the mysteries as a calling to the freedom and to the passionate discovering of the beauty.

We will taste the fresh and clean wind of Sunday mornings, the warmth of the sun rays, the festival of the water of a fountain's pump in a park. We will only think of the Sun, of the light and of the fountain. We will not think of yesterday or tomorrow. We will not think of before or since. We will swim naked in a cove, without neither time nor watch, without the instant that has just happened nor the instant that is going to come. We will only think of "now", of an special "now" that  don't lack anything and that don't think of anything.

 Life is what it is, without deep thoughts; only with the socks on feet when it's cold rather than convoluted lessons of ethics. only with the slice of bread with tomato and ham. Only with the custom of sitting and doing nothing. Only with the pleasure of laughing for no reason. Only with the habit of watching diversity and feeling good by this. Only breathing deeply and sleeping in a couch after lunch. 

To live in life, perhaps, unnoticed, enjoying it, knowing that each one of us are only one person, and that when we will be deads the world will continue, and nothing will happen. To savor life with discretion and anonymity, without the wish of living the life of the others. To love and let love without jealousy or possessive love, without the golden chains of the possessive love. We will not be afraid of death because we are alive and because we are free.

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To all the posts about NATURISM
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