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.

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