Remembering the warm times of summer

Here, in the north of the Earth, winter is coming, and we remember the warm times of summer, and the freedom of nakedness. Every golden beach, every little creek, every misterious cove where the sea arrived again and again, the blue light of the water when it was crossed by sunlight, the whole human skin of the human beings who were not aware of their nakedness, the brown, the dark and golden, the coppery color of the human body, the quiet mind of the quiet souls of those who are like children.

All this beauty is usually attacked by those who have empty minds; different kinds of people of various ideas, or even without ideas, despise or confuse or assault the simple experience of freedom. To be naked is just to be naked. To be naked is not necessarily a way of life or an ideology. To be naked is a way of enjoy nature, and it is a right of every human being whatever his culture or ideology is. To be naked is not necessarily a search of sexual stimulation. Almost always, the experience of nakedness is a family and simple-hearted party.

Wallowing in the winter we enjoy the natural cold weather too. Now we live every moment of the nature's travel, waiting for the summer to come, and the sweet moments in the cliffs near the ocean, when we lived deeply by swimming in the sea, sunbathing on the rocks, hearing the waves sound, enjoying the quietness of the shore...  
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Staring

On the pleasant shore of the universe, there’s a strange being who thinks that he is the center of the existence. He has a treasure, but he doesn’t realize. Around him, beauty and mistery. 
In fact, this strange being called human being is deeply atracted by the mistery. As a curious mind, he loves searching and seeking answers. But many times his pulsions compels him to rush, fight, hate, fear... This poor devil has not chosen to live like this. Something, or someone, has put him in front of the cruel laws of the biology. He has to eat living beings to survive. He has to kill either vegetables or animals. Williy-nilly, he has to destroy other lives to keep himself alive. And, as I have already written, he has not chosen this situation.

Sometimes, this strange being sits down and think; and he feels he loves, he feels every human being is infinitely worth. And this awareness just happens sometimes, when the power of the pulsions stops and the mind of this being is clear and clean.

Inside every human being there is an actual heart; and when this heart is sane, every human being understans that somewhere about there is more than fight, more than fear, more than hate, more than destruction, more that violence, more than money, more than utilitarianism, more than brutality, more than domination. This strange being watches himself and realize he is more than he looks, and much more than society thinks.

Many times, on this pleasant shore, strange and powerful buildings stands as if they were the answer everybody looks for. Churches, mosques, several temples arise towards sky with the verse of the fear to convince people to obey; with the grey poem of the interest to compel everybody to believe. Unknowledge is too unbearable for too many people and they rather accept inventions than search answers or hope through logical and honest thoughts. People usually live quavering as the image of a great mountain is quavering in the clear shallows of a lake that works as a mirror. People should be the mountain more than the quavering mirror. People should remember that they have been settled in this strange existence without having chosen it, that they did not decide the rules, the scenario, the fight, the death, the weakness, the blindness...

By staring at nature, this strange being can figure out little but strong evidences. By having confidence on sunshine, this strange being can feel answers. May be he can not hear or understand these answers, but he can feel them and hopefully live.    

Fumbling along a bit...

Ets tu! from Jere Soler on Vimeo.

Sometimes, I fumble along a bit the hidden beauty of existence. In that moments I hear sounds and I feel melodies like birds flying, or waves pumping into the beach. 

I made this song during the last summer, and It is a message that wind talks to human beings. It is a poem about the sea and the freedom too.

I hope you like it.

The dark time

Image of Mario Modesto Mata from the wikipedia
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During the dictatorship of Franco, Spain was a land of legal murders and children's torture. The ideological heirs of Franco have still the power and refuse seeing into the criminal responsibility of that time. They even make fun of the people who was killed.

I’m going to write about the teachers of my parents. All that I’m going to explain is concerned with the teachers of my parents and generally the teachers of that time.

They used to use fear to convince the children. By terrorizing them, they got their obedience. During their childhood, those adults had been scared by authoritarian teachers, and they had grown up learning that their world was a wild forest of miserable people, and that only discipline and catholic education could save them from human hell. When Franco took power they discovered themselves as teachers, and they applied what they had learnt according to the ideology of the time. As children they learnt that if they wanted to be fair people, they should obey and accept their grey and boring fate.

Besides, they were slaves of the image as the whole society was. They should take care of the image they showed to people, the image that sorted everybody, and that decided who was honorable and who was a shameful citizen. Teachers taught their pupils to live according the dictatorship of image and prestige.

The main tool of the teachers of my parents was violence. They believed in violence; the violence of the punishments, the violence of their religious ideas about the hell and the devil, the power of the blood. «The words are taught through blood» they used to say.

They screened these cruel ideas upon the minds of the children, and this screening worked not only through what teachers talked to them but what they didn’t tell them either. Silences were as loud as shouts were. Screams were the usual poetry of the imperfect children. Those educators were ill; their minds were as ill as the society where they had grown up were.

Today we can talk about their deep mistakes: their obsessive separation between girls and boys, their insane fear of sexuality and nakedness, their neurotic fight to reach the perfection in the goal of achieving the order in life and things, in the timetibles, in the way that they wanted everyone to dress, in the way they wanted everybody to speak, walk, play, dream, live...

Their pedagogic lines consisted in memorizing more than understanding. It happened that many times not even the educators understood the core of what they taught.

Since 1939, and during decades, most teachers were settled by the government of Franco. They were young adults, eighteen years old sometimes, and they were sent to thousands of towns and villages down the poor and devastated Spain after the civil war. By that time, thousands of old teachers had been killed due to their republican ideas.so that either the teachers that remained working or the new and young teachers were all keen on the dictatorship, or they tried to seem so at least. There were terrible injustices, like the teacher that was condemned to death for having taught about the reproduction of donkies, or many other teachers who were killed for having been talked to the children about freedom and resistence against the fascism. So teachers who survived were like scared sheep obeying an evil wolf, or maybe evil sheep worshipping an even more evil wolf. Since that time, two or three generations of people have been educated wallowing in the darkness of an evil society, learning to close their mouths, to obey without claiming, to value their survival more than the quality of their life, to distrust freedom or anything related to freedom.

It was a sad time. Nowadays education is much better.

Vine and thoughts

A free mind will unroll an endless succession of magnificent possibilities. The completeness of our life will be transformed when we decide to release our mind, live in a free way, and reach our highest dreams. Give yourself a dream, and you’ll be giving yourself a reason to live. Our mind’s change will open up whole new worlds for us. Now it’s time to sit up in our chairs; it is even a time to stand up, and walk, and move award, and be brave, and peaceful. Many people is given to decaying, drifting by the seamares, giving up, being torpid, depressing by what they feel as a nonsense life. We have our treasure inside us, in the way we see our life, but we have to go ahead and breath the clean air of the wild landscape. The wild landscape is the book where we can read the secret of the happiness, our «homesoul», the mother of our blood. We had scarcely been born when somebody decided to prevent our lives from wallowing in the wild nature, in the mud, in the cold water, in the earth... We had scarcely started to walk when somebody compelled our steps to follow the written rules of the civilitation, far away from our homeland, far away from our true core. We had scarcerly reached the age of the matureness when somebody forced us to be afraid of living, and by fearing life we started to be invisible slaves of the civilitation’s pace. We have to solve this drama by ourselves; our life is in our hands; our freedom is the power that makes the bricks of the «Freedom Human Being Building»; our bravery is our main weapon; our loving to life is our strongest energy. And somewhere about there is somebody who thinks the same; somewhere about there are a bright sun, a wide sea, a fresh and clean wind... But somewhere about there are slaves too; a dim reality that languishes in the darknes of slave minds. Don’t let them sink us. We have not to fight them with our violence either with our agressivity; our way of fighting is going ahead with our heart full of peace and hope.

I like staring at the red and gold leaves of the vines, arriving to a little village and going to any staminet to have a drink. Then I usually play a song with the guitar, and sing any song rooted in the season and the spot. I like the unknown songs of the country (any country); the songs that made cry people many years ago; people who is already dead. I like the songs that make still cry the invisible beings that stand around us and that come to listen to me. I feel the nearness of them, their love and their feelings. Singing gives me more energy than any pill or therapy. Singing is a way of speaking with God and with the people who have already gone. Singing is not just a hobby either a way of cheering a party; singing is a tool to talk to a world that exists beyond our universe and our time.

A lot of people make a mistake when they think about singing and performances as if these were simple ways of wasting time; they usually pay attention on the resplendent neons names of the streets, the false glare of the fame and the fortune that the civilitation values as if these were all in life. They watch and assume the wrong glistening of the act of singing, a lie that the mass media repeat and repeat till people strongly and wrongly believe. But singing is much more and inner. Singing is a treasure for every person, as praying is too.

The life of the power lovers becomes empty and stale. Power rots its slaves and feels even more hungry. Power slaves usually get blind; they reach the starkest grotesqueries decaying thinkers that once were bright can reach. We have to be humble and we have to be dreamers. We have to live with the idea that we are wooing thousands and thousands of human beings that one day will receive the fruits of our creations. The most tiny job is a path towards the creation. The most simple verse can carry news from the angels. The more we love the more the world will be saved. We always live in a twilight. The light of a dying sun is always yelding its beauty and singing a soft and peaceful song of hope. We live always waiting for the time we will live and stay in the land of the freedom. We were born for the freedom. We must not live like dozing car drivers along the road of existence; there are too many stars above. We must not let ourselves lost such a lot of beauty. We have to go ahead with our mind full of hope while the world thunder by. Our being has to be a peace’s refugee. We have to receive our fellows as the lull between a stale gaiety and a cold egotism. We have to enjoy the healthy taste of the existence by freely living in touch with the wild nature and the invisible beigns around us. The streets, the corners, the squares, the lights of our towns are full of lovely invisible forces that love our existence and inspire creations. The smart sense of the existence push towards the peace and the empathy of everybody. Justice is not a word that asks for revenge or punishment but an absolute liberation from the evil and the emptiness. Punishments just add more evil and don’t solve anything. No one understands love through punishments, on the contrary, many people get more and more harsh, blind and agressive. Only love can create love. Only thoughts can change thoughts. Only peace can develop peace. Of course, I’m not talking about general solutions for a whole state but about individual attittudes. The completeness of the individual attittudes is the power that can change the world.

The leaves that fall.

Green and red twilight 

during the last instants of the day.

I know where my ashes will rest;

beside the roots, wallowing into the mud,

swallowing drops of life and breath.

This will is not an attack or a despise,

but the true wish of a dying soul.

I don't want dogmas of tortures and redemptions,

just the love and the bless of an awesome Earth.

People who love me know 

where my ashes will rest,

and this yearning is not an incitement 

or a provocation.

A little part of me, 

clean and mineral,

will symbolize what I will have been,

what I will have loved.

But my mind will stay 

with those who I love,

for ever and ever. 

Our main God

There will come back the leprechauns,

the fairies rings, the Morrigan,

beyond the hills, under the clouds,

when rain is back and dew is pure,

we will recover the freedom’s pace,

without the death’s machines of fear.

Our god is green and made of land;

I’ve seen its face in every man,

in every woman, in every child,

in every song, in every smile.

Above the homeland of my soul,

we’ll worship life deeply again,

and we’ll proclaim that every person

is our main God and our main chant.

Sheeps

When I was born, they had already decided how I should be, what I must do, what I had to believe, how I was going to dress, to speak, to smile, to walk, to look... They designed a world to turn me into a sheep, a good and obedient sheep, a beautiful and traditional sheep. They drafted glorious declarations of honour and dignity to dress up the slavery in which all the sheeps were going to live. The sheeps were born, grew up, worked, married, had children, got old and finally died. The sheeps only thought to unwind from their tedious lives. Their thoughts were tolerated if they were silent and quiet. The sheeps were allowed to enjoy culture and arts if they priorized the needs of the productive system. There were big stadiums where the sheeps were able to shout and scream like crazy beings to unwind from their apparent empty lives.

Sometimes some sheeps were different. Sometimes some sheeps were black. Sometimes some sheeps were not like they were supposed to be. Everybody needs a little bit of freedom sometimes, but some sheeps need to be free always. The rulers of the society said that those sheeps were like cancerous cells, because society needs the self-deny of every sheep to achieve greater goals, but those sheeps said that they were no tools of a greater being but already great beings. They said that every sheep is a goal itself, and that nobody should treat any sheep as if it was a cell or a tool. These sheeps lived trying to do what they liked to do, and... even though they tried to earn a livelihood for their children and to improve their world... they also said that they had been born to be free and to create.

It is as if it was necessary not to be humans to be survivours

While I was sweeping my room, they built a wall in Calais. While I was singing at home, they decided to lock the door of Europe. While I was growing up, they prepared the new Europe made of concret and iron. While I was dreaming of a white christmas, they managed to turn Christmas time into the most lucrative trade It has ever existed. While they were teaching me to be obedient, I started to be blind. While they were scaring me by talking to me about hells and devils, I started to be a slave. While they were designing the main lines of the educational system, I became a product of their civilitation. And again, while I was sweeping my room, they arised a concret's wall in Tijuana, in Ceuta, in Greece... May be its because we priorize the shine of our houses that the walls are arising all over the world.

-You are a ripping citizen, because you work in a bank -he told me. And I believed in him. But while I was being happy by working in a bank, some people were losing their houses because they had believed in banks. Some people had been growing up with the credo I had learnt too: being obedient, being scared by hells and devils, being a cute slave of my perfect world, being a perfect product of this civilitation... And all of them, like me, had been arising the sad world of the walls and the iron.

When someone talks to my daughter, she demurres, because she is a shy girl, and because she has a special hint to sort people. Sometimes I wonder why we lose our childish gifts. It is as if we got sick by developing our animal pulses. It is as if we got mad by being adults. It is as if it was necessary not to be humans to be survivours. The eyes of children are so clear! They may be hard, or sored, or upset, or even violent... but these eyes expresses what there is in their heart. May be, they would arise a wall or a jail or a killing machine... but if they understood the bad core of their acts, they would cry and cry... and would change. Adults would hardly do it.

Our hidden paradise

Children know that the only good attitude in learning process is not fearing of making oneself ridiculous.

Some people think that all in life is a competition. For instance, when they are drawing or painting, they always compare themselves with the great masters of painting, and many times they feel themselves as losers. And when other people are drawing, (and mostly the other people don't draw as good as them) they compare these other people with the great masters of painting too, and most times they criticize them and tell them to drop this hobby because they say they make themselves ridiculous.

People that despise those who are not genius can't assume the painting or any other hobby just as a pleasure, or just as a way of enjoying... or expressing oneself... or being in life. They think that all the people have the same sense of ridiculous they have, because they consider that all the things we decide to do in life must be tools to win, to beat, to look, to captivate, to dazzle... They live as if life was a showcase where the genius should be contemplated and admired, and they think that people who are not genious should hide their works in a drawer to not make themselves ridiculous.

This attitude shows a deep and strong self-worship, because they dream about hovering over people, and therefore they criticize those ones who dare to show they works. They feel the works of the other people as threats. They feel that the people who enjoy practising the same hobby than them are competitors or opponents, and first of all, they despise and compel them to drop their hobby to feel safer.

But life is a learning process, and children know that the only good attitude in learning process is not fearing ridiculous, and daring to show and to enjoy our works and our progress. No child feels bad when he or she makes a mistake in his or her first words. And he or she hasn't even learnt to read or write yet. Life is too short to be shy or to be slave of our fears, or even worse... to be slave of the fear to make oneself ridiculous. If we fear, we are not free. If a little child feared to start to speak, he would never start to speak. Life is too short to listen to those who think than life is a competition and a fight to dominate or being dominated.

Anyone is capable of anything, if he or she dares to chase his or her dreams, and if he or she spares no effort to fight against his or her own despondency, and if he or she specially does their hobby to enjoy and not to be conceited.However, it's not always that easy to ignore the harsh words of those who despise our work and our happiness; but, if we want to be free, we must forget them and their poor words. They usually are envious and jealous, and they know it. They know their own weakness and they feel sad for it. The attack is the way they try to compensate their painfull feeling. Their mainly envy our freedom and our happiness.

On the other hand, there always will be harsh people, moron, unsensitive, intolerant... Bring it on! But our life is ours, and we must be free. At long last, some sweet and foolish things make our life worth, the simple and foolish daily things that bring back magic to us. No matter if we are not the best painters, the best writters, the best singers or actors... We must paint, write, sing, play, have a bath in a lost corner of the nature (like you can see above in the photo)... The life is made of all the foolish things that make us happy.

So... go ahead!   

The love I will have given... The smiles I will have achieved... The time I wil have shared...

Death always looks so bad! And losing dear people is sad, indeed! Specially when they go too young. We can try to avoid the sad face of death, but we should try to watch further, and accept the natural rules of game. The death that we have to understand is the natural death, not the unfair death of wars or hates, nor the unsuitable death of young people. We are not going to be friends of the cruel deaths of so many people who pass away out of line. We have to work for a world without the unbearable deaths of those who should be still alive.

But the quiet death of old and illl people even seem down right friendly sometime; a death at the end of the life when the wisdom of a deep lifelong has been transmited to all the people that he or she loves.

In the beginning, death, whenever it comes, just shows its ugly face, until you get to know it a little bit better. But nobody likely would be able to born (future babies) if those who are alive never died, and human species would not keep evolving if individuals didn't die; there's no evolution without death. And even though it seems that the evolution of species has stopped, it is really still working. We have to fight to achieve that this evolution works in the direction of a human being with more empathy and kindness.

We appeared just for a little while, so... the best thing we can do is smiling. Life is so short than we can't waste our time not loving. Life is so precious than we can't waste our time not loving. The fact of the death should compels us to live as if every day was the last one. There no use enjoying selfish pleasures if this pleasures don't allow to share happiness with the people we love. We have been alone all the eternity, and maybe we will be alone all the eternity after our death; in fact, we really don't know. A writer said once that life is the vacations of the death, so... we should afford this vacations to do what we will not be able to do during the eternity. And the evil is always a dark side that gives us a painful and heavy sense. We must not waste our vacations acting as if people had no a heart. We must feel the feelings of the people as if those feelings were ours. The idea of the death should help us to deeply live.

Many times we have to tell our life:

-Don't lie to me... You will vanish. All is provisional. I'm not going to take richness away, nor power, nor prestige... However, I will take all the good times beside the people I will have loved, the love I will have given, the smiles I will have achieved, the time I wil have shared... You, life, will vanish... and when you vanish, I will take my treasures away.   

Poor human being

He plays to be an angel,

and thinks he really is,

but he is just a little puppet,

slave and full of bliss.

His happiness is light dust

flying in the wind;

a mirage in his poor mind

of tribal steam.

Nasty blows of hazing,

dressed up in peace,

under bright appearances,

he stings like a bee.

He works just for his swarm

According a main wish

the will of the thin strings

that move the puppet's swing.

Nudeness and teenagers

Maybe it's because I'm a father of a teenager that I deeply know the mind's attitude of the teenagers who live in a nudist environment during the summer. I'm grateful to nature powers for the gift of not living chained to any social taboo, and the chance to teach my children to love wild nature, starting with their own body and mind.

The teenagers of this environments are 12, 13, 14... until 17 years old. In these places that people call «naturist», nudeness is not tied to eroticism, but rooted in a natural, familiar and friendly, sense. These characteristic produces a feeling of calm and normality. Adults and children are usually always naked, however sometimes teenagers put a swimsuit on, or take a swimsuit off, when they want. They like often change their image, and by their view, clothing is not a way of hiding their bodies but a tool that they use to adapt their image to what they feel in every moment. They usually strip to swim, play with the waves, sunbath, walk along the beach, but they put their swimsuit on when they want to play volleyball.

Campings make possible a deep friendship between young ones of different cultures, languages, styles... Girls and boys, Catalan, Navarrese, German, French, Dutch... spend hours laying on the sand, in the nude, without swimsuits. They usually speak for hours in english about many different matters, about the usual issues they are interested in. They spontaneously share knowledges, exchange cultural characteristics, laugh, enjoy... These moments show us how people are equal wherever we are, whatever our cultural environment is. Everybody tries to survive, fit, be accepted , accept the others, share, know, expand cultural horizons. I realize that despite the violent pulses in the human hearts, and despite the social strengths... deep in the heart of human being, kindness exists, and in the natural environments, all of a sudden, it appears. Kindness is a reality that stands inside all the human hearts when we are born and when we grow; however, as time goes by, prejudices, bias and ambition... stifle it.

There is one difference between the teenagers of free-clothes areas and teenagers of traditional and conservative campings; this difference is the obsession with the body, and specially the obsession with the hidden parts of the body that many teenagers of traditional areas feel when they meet young ones. However, the teenagers of nude areas assume the body with calm, they don't feel the necessity of watching the parts of the body that in the daily life of the society, people hide. When the young ones are used to coexist in the nude, I realise that the relationship between boys and girls in the daily society is more egalitarian, they are free from the inner strength of discovering the hidden shapes of the bodies they wish; and I'm talking not only about their life in the nude areas but also about their posterior life in their usual towns. Sometimes, the romantic love appears (the tipical summer love), and even though they live in the nude, they don't mainly fix on the topic hidden body areas, but in the color of the eyes, the beauty of a smile, the deepness of a glance, the voice, the way of being, the sweetness of a face... I talked away a long time to some of them about this matter, and instead of being fixed on the parts of the body that are usually hidden, they feel them assumed as any other part of the body. There's no obsession, there's only normality.

And they speak so long in english that they feel as if they had been in an english summer camp. At the end of the summer, they exchange their instagrams, their whattsapp, and henceforth they keep talking in the distance during the school year, despite the fact they are thousands miles far away.

The following summer, they meet again; they are older, but they do the same than the precedent summer: blue paradise of golden sea, coppery or brown free skins in the nature, cheerfulness shouting, smiles, beach parties, volleyball, dancing on the sand during the full moon nights, respectful community spirit, parties without strange substances nor stunning drinks, welcoming attitude towards newly arrived, farewell towards those who depart, interest in the culture of the country, beauty, freedom, sanity... and the skills, traits and normality of their awkward age.

Sometimes, in the beach, some strange men appear as if they were ghosts; they are the classic «voyeurs», who arrive to the beach rigid and expressionless. They walk outlandish and extravagant, everybody notices their aims. They are usually harmless, but they make themselves ridiculous. They are victims of their poor education; they are collateral damages produced by the puritanical society that condemns and hides the nude body instead of assuming its natural value. Fortunately, they are sporadic, an anecdotal minority.

At times, some integrist ideologist turns up with his inflexible rules about nudenees in FKK areas.The other day, I saw one of them He wore a cowboy hat, and he was upset because some teenagers had put their swimsuits on to play volleyball. He thought that those young ones had broken the enforced nudity of the naturist areas. «That's not right here!» he said, and I realised that everywhere the integrist people work in the same way. The integrist people assume nudeness as an enforced uniform instead of embracing freedom as the sign of any kind person. We have been evolving from a hard repression that banned the beautiful picture of the nude human body towards a freedom that we love and embrace. That old repression sentenced many generations to live in the dark of the traditional morality. According the integrist people, it seems that we have to accept the imposition of the nudeness, as if it was the victory over the old prohibition. The victory is not the imposition but the freedom; the freedom to choose, the freedom of speech, the freedom of deciding our own image. In a free society, nudeness will be chosen the most of the times, we don't need impositions. The aim that can't survive without impositions doesn't deserve to exist. The teenagers wear in their souls the spirit of the freedom; they don't fear nudeness and they don't fear freedom to choose in every moment.

In the society, the members of some families, or some groups of friends, don't think always the same about being naked at the beach; some of them like being nake, other ones prefer wearing a swimsuit. According some integrist people they should be separated and segregated even in the natural public areas, as if they belonged to different worlds. Will a group of teenagers destroy the naturist movement just because they prefer wearing swimsuit when they play volleyball?

The integrist people of any ideology (political, religious, social...) prefer the quantitative growth of their group to the growth of the freedom's level in the society. They dream about uniforms and homogeneous groups, without shades, hues or tints. They are intolerants for fear that everybody freely choose their aesthetics, ideas, believes, strategies... They are afraid for the extinction of the orthodoxy of their group. They need the orthodoxy to feel safe, because they feel that freedom it's not good enough to get their safety. Even though sometimes they think themselves pacifist, they are an army; even though they say they fight to get freedom, they are intolerant; and even though sometimes they say thet are naked, they wear uniform. Fortunately, all the aims that want to be fair and healthy breathe freedom, and integrist people are a minority. Diversity is the favourite trait of the human being, because it stems from his or her freedom, and because it also produces a new and posterior freedom. Diversity comes from freedom and produces freedom, yet the strongest chains are not the chains of integrist people but the chains forged by the tradition, the morality, the old religions, the poor education... One day people will be free at least.

Nudeness is the most beautiful dress; the natural dress of the human body. The view of the human body (of the human bodies in a natural landscape) gets to improve the human mind and its growing. The natural views, the views that all we have saved inside our brain, make us feel that we are at home, we are in our homeland, in our landscape, in our healthy environment. The natural views adapt us to our adult life, to our necessities and our maturity. On the contrary, the prohibition of that views, cuts the developing of our mind, and produces tense and repressed people, even though they don't know they are repressed, tense or nervous. What do we prefer? A teenager that has been knowing and assuming the human body as a natural and good reality in a familiar environment during his or her growing from the born to the adult life? Or a teenager with a part of the body of his or her own species banned and condemned, and continuously tied to the eroticism, as if his or her own body was a fetish? This prohibition developes a dark attraction. Forbid someone something and he or she will be for ever tied to the banned thing. The prohibition of a thing is like pointing out that thing to someone, and if that thing is a human and natural thing, the prohibition turns that thing into a dark mistery when in fact that thing is just a natural reality.

The attraction that society feels towards the banned body is exploited by some unhealthy industries and by the marketing, so... it is also a tool of manipulation and a dark shadow that works against the equality between men and women.

Maybe it's because of all this realities, that human kind (slowly but surely) is releasing from the group's morality. As years go by, nudeness is accepted as a non sexual reality; at least, no more sexual than any other reality of the life. The best ideology is the freedom; the freedom to decide our own image, and to live as everybody feels. The will of liberty will never vanish. The wish of liberty will be always beside any fair and victorious fight.

To Krystyna Trzesniewska

Majdan Królewski 

The green of your land is alive as your name is alive in my heart. Because your life was so sacred that suddenly I worship it right now.

Every human being is a God who ignores his own divinity. The true God turns into every mistreated human being.

Whenever my life gets me so down, and my way is destroyed by causes that I can't control; I'll think of you, and your dignity, and your hope. I'll feel you near, I'll declare that you are worth and adorable. And I'll strongly advance towards the country of the freedom. And I'll pay tribute to your life with my courage and my struggle.

The forgotten children of the death and injustice will remain in our minds for ever as stars; milions of persons like you, young and bright. 

Live your life through mine, I'll share it with you.

And we will fight for freedom and happiness.

Fascism will be defeated for ever.

Majdan Królewski 

Majdan Królewski 

Majdan Królewski 

Majdan Królewski 

Majdan Królewski 

Majdan Królewski 

 Majdan Królewski 

Majdan Królewski 

The imperfection is the identity of the beings, and (after all) their beauty

The natural colors of the city. The line and the light. The details. The dirt poetry, with its core drenched in humanity. The alive niff of the colors. That which is alive spreads a natural niff that in any sense is deeply beautiful, and we can't trap this beauty. This beauty is invisible when the aseptic minds watch it.

The light, the orderliness and the chaos. The beauty of the alive imperfection. If we look at all the dead things of the world, it turns out that only the lovely imperfect things are alive. The imperfection is the identity of the beings, and (after all) their beauty. The chaos is the main performer of the beauty every time it destroys the dead perfection of the utilitarianist obsession of the Homo sapiens. The chaos save us from the ugliness of the status quo, and it beautifies the humdrum perfection of the orderliness, the humdrum perfection of that which is only valued for its utility.

We need shadows, cracks, moistures, dirtiness, astringency... and an entropy that be constantly creating an inimitable freedom. We need minds that open as the flowers do when the sun lights them up, and be able to see the beauty of the imperfection; the imperfection as a motor of the creation and the beauty; mistery of the instant; natural and astonishing drive that compels us towards the random. Once the random created us as a surprise, as an imbalance of the placid nothingness; and then, the chaos and the beauty appeared.

They are my children too

  image cc-by-2.0 by Irish Forces in wikipedia

My friend is dying in Siria,
he didn't choose to be born there.
My little son is in the water
trying to swim and survive.
My daughter is crying in a ruined town.
she is terrified because of the bombs.
She has seen a baby dying drenched in blood
and nobody knows it

It turns out that I was born in a Human and European society.
A wall was shot down,
a new world started,
but now, somebody is thinking about arising
a new battlement,
as if beyond our lovely Europe
there were no human beings.

The capitals are free,
and free is the richness,
and free is the protocol,
and the damned neckties of the distinguished gentlemen
who have built the Europe of the financial powers.

I don't want money, nor richness, nor comfort, nor posessions...
I beg the life and the happiness of my children
who are dying in the mediterranean,
in the borders, in the war.

Because they are my children too,
and if they are not alive,
if they have no their life,
I'm not alive, we are not alive.

The invisible realities that stand around us

The core is not in the tools, nor in the material means, nor in the technological level... The core is in the way we teach, the way we do whatever we do. The children learn what we do more than what we explain. This idea is also useful for parents and for any educator. We have been suffering the empire of the discipline for centuries. Men and women have always thought that the only way of teaching has much to do with the fear of punishment, as if the young human beings were little animals about to be domesticated as horses in a horseback-riding school. 

Only the thoughts can change the thoughts. The power of the habits is very strong, I accept it, but... what kind of transformation is made in human heart, in human mind, if we do the things well only because we are used to do that things in this way? 

Things happened, our life changes, perhaps a war comes, the society breaks down, the appearances and the social forces that hold our behaviour fade away as the light when the night arrives... In this situations, if we are only domesticated as animals, we lose all what we thought we had. On the other hand, domesticated beings are not utterly free; they do what their internal forces compels to do... The deeds we do when we are not free doesn't give us happiness, our life stays in rut, we are not really we, and we can't evolve. 

The discipline borns from the hidden need of revenge. The angry teacher who applies discipline is really trying to relieve the rage, even though he thinks he is educating. What changes the human mind is not the punishment but the fact of being aware of what he or she has done bad and what she or he should have done in a different way, Most times, discipline is clearly an obstacle, because the violence of the punishment produces a reactive violence in the heart of the young one. The reactive violence darks the mind and the educational process stops. The knowledges we receive through the rage and the fear are not assumed in the best conditions, and sometimes, we hate those knowledges only because we acquired them through violence and stress. 

 So... How can we educate in a right way? How must our educative process be if we want to do the things well, and to do any good? First of all, we have to say that educating in a good way is not an easy task. Punishing is easier, and it often gets fast efects. People often applaud the consequences of the discipline; the clear and the immediate consequences of the discipline. But they don't see the inmost in the human mind, they don't see the future, they don't see the social consequences of the society that works with the tool of the law and the punishment. They will likely criticize the harsh pace of the society, their cold heart, their deep and terrible mistakes... but they don't realise that they are building this society through the education they are giving to their children. 

(While I'm writing this, I peer through the bus window and I see the green grass, the wet landscape of Girona, the grey and cloudy sky. Meanwhile, I listen to an irish song «The broad majestic Shannon», and this song gives me goosebumps, because I'm thrilling.) 

A new time is coming, a time where the teachers will not be punishers. The good education is a slow education. We have to let the children fail, fall, get wrong... We have to teach them how to forgive. We have to teach them that they must start again, again and again, because the path of the life is nice but it cheats us many times, and we have to know this reality. We have to learn, as teachers, that we have to learn every day, that we can learn from our pupils, that we must learn from our pupils, at least new ways of teaching, new ways of loving them, new ways of watching the life and the world. 

Teachers are always between two worlds, the world that is going, and the world that is coming. We see the sweet and beautiful color of the last sunlight, and we see the thrilling light of the sunrise that is borning. We are privileged due to these both views. We are building the future society, and we have to be aware of this responsability. Life is not worth if we don't use it to reach high goals; but the high goals are not the fame or the money but the sacred errands of loving the men and the women of the future world. Human kind needs to be loved, and our duty is loving the little part of human kind we have beside us. 

However this love is not a sweet but a torch. It is a love moving in one direction. We have to give and not to receive. We have to teach and to be forgotten. We have to love reaching nothing more than the fact of loving. Our reward is our task, nothing more than this. 

To achieve this high attitude we have to discover the invisible realities that stand around us. The scenario of our life is full of invisible beings, like magnets that attract our souls and guide our deeds. We have this invisible realities as if they were headlights in the middle of a dark storm. And despite the fact they are invisible, they usually shine with a pure light that empowers us. Sometimes they shine when we discover an unique smile that borns from the deepness of the heart. Other times, they shine with a silence, or with some tears, or with a magical moment of wonder, or even in the silence of an empty classroom when we feel the intense lack of the people we were with some minutes before. This invisible powers are not in the shops. We can't buy them as if they were computers or books. They appear beside our attittudes, our way of watching people and life, our way of valuing our work and our pupils. We need them, and they love us.

At dawn, light is blowing down darkness, and a new day is starting again.

About half way between Coll d'Estenalles and Coll d'Eres, there is a place where oak and pines trees stand under the early stars, while the sun is sinking behind Montserrat mountains. After walking through the forests of this area, we usually sit on the ground, and with the faces flushed by the last sunlight of the day, so red, we sing the songs we love the most. These are the deepest instants in life, perhaps the truest instants. The North wind cools us, however we wear suitable clothes, and despite the cold weather, we appreciate the harsh intensity of the forces of nature. We love the cold in winter, the heat in summer, the strong blow of the wind when it awakes, the silent falling of the snow in the heart of the forest, the loneliness of the wild valleys... The energy of the nature is not our enemy but our mother. We emerged from the strongness of this nature that we love, and we accept its power.

In this scenario, time stretches as if it were ethernal; perhaps because we don't think about time. We don't think about what existed before this instant and we don't think about what will exist after this instant either. The dazzling image of the sun dissapearing in the west like a red ball of fire reveals to us that we are in heaven, but we are in heaven not because of all these realities but because of our heart, our mind, our love, our way of thinking, our way of living, our lack of utilitarianism, our submission to the forces of nature.

Lately, we have become usual visitors of this countryside, and sometimes I think that the trees, the wild pigs, the hills, the winds... know who we are, and love us, and are glad to have us so near.

This place is the farest spot from fashionable people. It is a hidden place in the heart of the wild Earth, where the core of the existence lives naked, and so we can see it naked and clear as it is.

Some skin stone's tops cluster near this place. They are made of red rocks, and these rocks are made of thousands of more little stones. Below the tops, the trees cluster around the stone's hills, and from these trees, a wide and deep forest stretches like a green prayer rug. The big temple of the mountain embraces a deep silence, and only the wind, some animals, and our voices singing in the night, break the strong and peaceful stillness of the evening.

The distant image of the old monastery of Sant Llorenç is cast across the wood. There is a quavering light on its windows, and from there to us there is only the deep darkness of the tree tops in the night. Now, the ripples of the clouds are dyed red, and the wind blows stronger. Rosemary and thyme scents are sent up by the blowing of the wind. I put my hand on a rock and I feel it chilly almost as if it were ice. We sing a song and when we finish we flounder for a minute because we don't know what to do. Perhaps singing another song would be a good idea, or instead perhaps we should go back home. Suddenly, we discover we are not alone because somebody is coming down to where we are. He or she comes from the top of the mountain, and appears as a little point of light that grows as it gets closer. This man or woman crawls slowly as if it were a distant ship in the horizon of a dark and cold sea.

When we go away, and the night rules and goes by, the dew is going to moisten the leaves and the grass. Yet, at dawn, light blows away the darkness, and a new day starts again.

This forest is full of winding paths that guide toward magical places, isolated wells, little old churches, lonely and neglected old farmhouses, charmed palaces, deep caves... I specially want to talk about a cave, the dragon cave, whence many centuries ago, a dragon went out from the dephts of the Earth to eat whoever it found on its way.

Sometimes, I went into this cave, a crevice in the heart of a red stone's crag, and I have to say that I didn't find any trail of the dragon, but something inside me compells me to believe that it is real, and that I have to believe it exists. This narrow cave is dotted with inner crevices, and it has two holes as entry and exit. The dragons have some sort of magic that makes them glorious and therefore they usually appear in the armorial shields of many important families around the world.

These days, the days we go on a journey, a mountain trip, are very important because time tends to slip away. And when we decide to start a trip, a trip towards nature spots we have not to hope or to expect anything. We have to enjoy whatever we find whatever we live. If we imagine our trip before it starts, it doesn't quite live up to our expectations. To make the most of our journey, we have to enjoy what we find without expecting anything. Every day has a surprise, something to savour, a specific identity. Every trip is a gift, a mystery, a magic experience. Of course, we have to plan it out, but we have to keep a chance for the random factor. We have to have free time, a time without timetables or specific goals; a time to walk without any direction, discovering more than seeking, living more than thinking.

Many people cringe when they think about travelling without any safety. People put the comfort on top of all the goals in life, and they destroy any magic to be more comfortable and more safe. When magic dies life dies. And if we don't fight against the rut every day, we will mindlessly end up in the mind's jail where most people live. If we don't fight, we will succumb. Social pressure is far too strong.   
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