Nudity is the antidote to avoid the sexualization and reification of the body.

 

In summer, may be it’s because the season is favorable, I always like to write about nudity. I almost always say the same thing in a different way; the evidence that sexual tension is not increased by the absence of clothing, but precisely by its opposite: the forced and perpetual concealment.

It's a simple concept that I discovered many years ago.

In my adolescence, and due to the influence of my Judeo-Christian education, I was convinced that the strength, the sting, the fever, the rush of sexual attraction, ignited with nudity, and that the concealment of the body protected minds from the insurmountable force of sexual drive. Forty years later, I have evidence to the contrary; it is not an opinion, it is evidence, a proven fact, a progressive discovery. A coexistence in absolute nudity with diverse human groups of all ages, sexes, genders, shapes, cultures, styles... produces, in a very short time, the absolute assumption of the totality of the body as a neutral natural reality, which does not it has a direct and irrepressible relationship with sexual stimulation, or in any case it has it to the same extent as the clothed body has it. This short period of adaptation will depend on the user's decision, his education, the degree of repression to which he has been subjected... but anyway, it is a specific time after which that morbidity (that years of social concealment have been piling up in the conscious and unconscious corners of the human mind) fades like the fog descends on a hot summer day when the Sun becomes the lord of an immaculately blue vault of the sky.

This is why the fear that certain conservative religious groups have about the naked body and its vision makes no sense. What they have to do, if they want the human body not to be a fetish for them, is to incorporate it into the set of noble visions of life, to recover the naked human body for the sober day-to-day life, achieving that the material part of the human essence does not become a curse or an enemy, and that the education of children is not tainted or conditioned by concealment and fear. Nothing natural and human is cause for shame. Abandoning the use of bathing suits on beaches and swimming pools would be the triumph of the recovery of innocence; innocence damaged by concealment, by ignorance of the body, by fear, by morbidity... All in all, concealment is firewood for uncontrolled sexual tension, and cause of immaturity and neurosis.

And then, where would the sexual attraction be? Would we become asexual? No way. Sexual attraction is a treasure; it is not a phenomenon to be fought. But the boundary line of sexual attraction will be where we decide it to be, not where our repressed unconscious decides; and it is necessary, in order to be freer and to live happier, to respect each other more, to not stop seeing people, souls, where there are naked human beings, and to achieve that the spark of sexual attraction it is not born impulsively from the simple vision of the body, but submits itself to the most human features and expressions of people, in free relationships decided by the heart and the mind.

Nudity is not a scandal or a provocation. Nudity is not sex. Nudity is a part of the human essence. Nudity is precisely the antidote to avoid the sexualization and reification of the body.

Normalizing what is normal in a society that is not normal.

I do not consider that bathing in the sea and sunbathing without a bathing suit is an outrageous or strange practice. By my view, it is normal, pleasant, comfortable, civic, healthy, and it does not have a bizarre or exotic character. Normally, when I go to the beach I try to go there where traditionally this bizarre and paranoid society (that makes everything work) will not recriminate anything, nor it will throw stones at me for not wearing a swimsuit. This does not mean that down there everyone wears the same clothing; sometimes it will happen, sometimes it will not, but there are places where people do not have problems with the image of people.

And I want to emphasize that I just think about going to the beach, to the sea ... That is, when we get up in the morning, and decide to go to the beach, we don't usually think: "we're going to do nudism" nor even "we're going to a nudist beach"; instead of this, we think with desire and illusion: "we are going to the beach". And we think of the sea, the sun, the sand, the wind, the feeling of relaxation and fusion with nature ... I never think of human nudity, nor the word nudist or naturist , nor the feeling of going to a marginal or minority space, nor the conviction of being doing any strange practice. I am not an enemy of clothes; I like clothes, I like dressing as a form of identity expression, as a protection, as an artistic expression; clothing and fashion are another way in which art manifests itself, and at home I stay dressed,and in the city as well, and in everyday social life.

I don't consider anyone as an idiot for wearing a swimsuit, even though someone considered me an idiot for not wearing it.

Perhaps due to this habit of not considering the body a reality of obligatory concealment, it happens to me that naked or dressed bodies don’t dislodges or disturbs me if I do not intend to happen it. 
On the other hand, I realize that another negative consequence happens to many people; this different and negative consequence happens specifically to people that are not used to see naked bodies in a non sexual environment. These people see nudity and get excited. I can say that I usually observed this phenomenon; in fact, the same people who suffer from this phenomenon confirmed it to me. Therefore, I can certify that there are people (many people) that enter into a state of sexual alert, of excitement when they face to the sight of certain naked bodies.

It doesn't happen to me. A body is not enough for me to start a sexual desire. I find the human body beautiful. I can even affirm that nudity is the most beautiful dress of all. I can assure you that when I see naked people I always find them more beautiful than when I see them dressed, but this fact does not awaken any disturbances. And it happens to me whoever that people are, and no matter how old they are. I attribute this phenomenon to the fact that the habit of nudity on the beach throughout the summers makes my mind not to associate nudity with sexual excitement.

On the other hand, people who are usually denied the vision of the material and biological reality of the species do consciously and unconsciously attribute to it an erotic value, and therefore these people are unleashed an excitement, and sometimes this excitement appears even without nakedness, just because of the shape of a body. And some of these people, sometimes, end up seeking naked images in pornography, and so they feed back the phenomenon; that is, they further strengthen the nudity/sex association.

In my opinion, the habit of not hiding nudity in a normal and natural way on the beach undoes the sensual burden that social concealment increases.

We see what we are. We see things and people as we are and not as things and people are. The distance from the natural state of people, in all its spheres, does not lead to anything good, it falsifies each other, it turns us into objects of desire or tension, it further distances us.

On the other hand, the nudity on the beach is not just the custom of a group, or the habit of some associations, but a right of any person in society what ever ideology or militancy this person has. What is needed is to be respectful of everyone's way of life. This educational, civic, healthy value of not hiding human body should be understood better and better by people. Even today many people scandalize and prejudge and above all they lose the possibility of being humanly normal and not having a sex obsession in their heads when they encounter the vision of a body that is only human and that by the fact of existing, by the fact of going naked , or by the fact of going with tight clothes... it does not stop being spiritual, rational, cabin of an infinitely valuable spirit; a soul that is called to human friendship.

The human respect among people grows when we live this value; a value that is still unknown to many; the value of the custom of the normal vision of non-sexualized nudity in a natural, human, relational, playful and familiar environment.

And the first thing we have to do to normalize what is normal (in a society that is not normal) is to feel that it is normal, and therefore we have to avoid closets and secret groups. We don’t have to fear intolerant ones.

Even today, and even more so today with all the far right in power in so many institutions, and with the fear of everything installed in the hearts of citizens, we must work for freedom; the freedom that inquisitors of all times consider diabolical. With the slow and disguised cut of this freedom in the name of a thousand reasonable excuses, little by little the human species is moving towards a scared way of being. Enough is enough.

Kindness, evil, and teaching.

We want them strong like oaks; efficient, effective, safe, responsible. That's good. We should ask ourselves if we also want them to be human. Human in the sense of goodness.

Goodness has a bad reputation in our pragmatic world, even so it is the core of our species. As far as we move away from goodness, we lose humanity.

We want them to be empathic. I want them to experience empathy, feelings, emotions, understanding, respect. I want them to be flexible, dialogues. I want them to exercise an enough degree of reasonable tolerance.

I wish it for them and for the society they will build.

And I wonder if I have to punish them with harshness and without exceptions when they do not give the teacher all that they were asked. If I do not punish them, I run the risk of not preparing enough for a society that does not forgive the mistakes about time and time required. Even so, this last idea is the trap of the system.

The harsh and inhuman hardness of the system feeds on pedagogy that teaches us to live in a rugged and inhumane system. When I teach a boy or girl that when she does not deliver her or his homework, she or he will be punished, then I’m not only teaching her or him to be strong in this system, I’m also teaching him or her to become a controlling agent of this inflexibility. And this infelxibility is perpetuated. If I act like this, I teach him to be strict, not to understand, not to listen, and to turn (for someone else) into the difficulty against which I am preparing him or her.

On the other hand, If I decide that when he or she arrives and tells me that he or she has some family problems, trouble-makings, may be hard for him to be explained, and that have caused him or her to forget to take the order … so, if in these circumstances I listen to him or to her, and I encourage him or her to open up and tell me the problem, and if then, once I’ve listened to her or to him, I understand him or her, and so grant himor her one more day to deliver the work... Will not I be teaching him to be more human? Will not I be building a system that will work in a more harmonious way with the respect that individuals deserve as persons they are? Will not I be gaining his or her heart and making it more receptive to later teachings? Will not I make him or her stronger to resist a system that wants him or her to turn into an insect of the swarm?

I have the answer. Let each one answer for him.

My musical trip to IRELAND. Meeting Mickey McConnel and Gavin family.

On August 22, we met the Family Gavin, and their Gypsy Wagon TV. They had invited me to sing and to be recorded in their wagon, and I had the luck of knowing their natural paradise in the middle of Fintown's Nature; a green paradise of trees and grass, lakes, rivers... They were very kind with us and we spent a happy and nice afternoon of music and friendship. You can see their awesome channel of folk and music.

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCoiry3FOj-18ibNQe9FijDA

The other great experience of this summer was meeting Mickey McConnell.

First of all, I met the song. “Only our rivers run free”. I listened to it some years ago, through YouTube, sung by a young man in a pub of England; this man seemed a worker or a syndicalist, and he sang for freedom. I felt upset with that song, it made me cry and I didn’t know why. May be It happened because its meaning was applicable to the situation of my country, Catalonia. As I told you, It happened some years ago.

From that moment on, I searched and I discovered that that song was written by a man called “Mickey McConnell”. I learnt things about him. He was born in Northen Ireland. His song “Only our rivers run free” talked about the constittutional status of Ulster, and this song became a hit in Ireland in 1968. He made many other songs like “The little drummer boy” and “Follow the flag”. The songs of Mickey were sung by singers like Christy Moore, The Wolfe Tones, Mary Black, The Kelly Family, The James Last Orchestra...

I listened “Only our rivers run free” again in YouTube from a young singer called Sheena (now she is older and lives and sings in pubs from New York. Few weeks ago she was in derry) and I cried again. Finally I learnt to sing this song, and... from time to time, even now, I perform it in the kitchen of my home for my daughter. Now she is 11, but when she was three or four, she hardly ate his dinner, and I sang this song, an others too, so that she had dinner easier, and really she did. Now, I have just made a Catalan version of the song. I told it to Mickey last night and he loved the idea.

So… after all that… I met Mickey McConnell through facebook one or two years ago. This summer, my family and me decided to visit Ireland and I asked Mickey where did he sing and he told me about McMunns, in Ballybunion. We went to have a dinner there on August, 26, and it was great, magic, exciting… My family and me enjoyed a lot, and, in two occasions, Mickey put his guitar on my hands and asked me to sing a couple of songs. It was very exciting to contribute to the magic of the pub with two Catalan songs. If only I had knew that I was going to sing I would have prepared some irish song; I usually sing “Grace” and “The great majestic Shannon” but I don’t know them by heart, and I sang two Catalan songs that I remember and feel very well. Anyway, It was great. The atmosphere of the McMunns was bewitching, entrancing, gripping, awesome… Mickey sang “only our rivers run free” “Viva la quinta brigada” and many others. Other man whom name I don’t remember that had been a very good football trainning (and player) many years before sang too (a deep song about a worker). A woman stood up and sang too (Me and Bobby McGee). Mickey made us feel welcomed; he dedicated songs to us, he explained to the whole pub that we had come from Catalonia, he introduced ourselves to one of the owners of McMunns and some other kind people, he helped us to feel very happy in a warm and kind human climate. That night, the Irish people of McMunns turned out to be like a group of friends for us, openminded, open to other culture (Catalan culture), cheery…

So… I want to thank Mickey such a wonderful night, three days before I turned fifty years old.

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Singing in GypsyWagonTV

Singing in GypsyWagonTV, on August, 22, 2018. In Fintown (Donegal, Ireland).

Children in cages

Children in cages,

and tyrants in the White House.

Smoke in suburbs.

Maroon velvet rugs under the feet of an artificial fool.

Children in cages and human beasts in the White House.

Those who have a sick soul inhabit the palaces of the republic.

The fighters languish in the suburbs.

Where have the America of California gone?

You no longer wear flowers in your hair.

You were afraid of the freedom of your soul

and you decided to imitate 

the decadent and unfair tawdriness of the Sun King 

and all the pathetic kings in the world

that are considered superior people.

Where have all the flowers gone?

They ripped them out of the earth 

and kept in the wicker basket 

of an old grandmother who had lost her head.

They now stink, and they will not be longer flowers.

Where is the harmonics of Key West?

Where does the girl with eyes of heaven live?

The girl who swam in the nude under the bridge of San Francisco?

She abhorred freedom because of a bad hangover,

and because of the silver mirrors 

with which they bought the sacred message of the Great Spirit.

Where are you John Sebastian?

Where did you leave the younger generation?

You don’t ask your darling to be home soon anymore.

You no longer stop your song in Woodstock to make the audience sing.

Where did you leave the spoon and the dreams?

Children in cages

Children in cages

Kids in cages and decadence in the White House.

Robert Conway, Shangrila, June 19, 2018

A better life

I think you've got me mixed up

when you direct me to expire

the sweet deep wish for wind and sand

for wildness and the pure desires

shining near the waves and foam

under the burning sky of fire.

I think you've got me mixed up.

Further the water, the line of dreams,

my heart is born at noon again.

I'm just a child naked and free,

only a man beside the sea.

Further the water, the line of dreams.

Where are you, fellows, taking me?

I don't get here often enough.

Your way is bright, empty and tough.

I only need a bit of love.

Where are you, fellows, taking me?

I'm pushing for a better life,

poorer, may be, but clear and nice.

I do not want a dice to choose

my steps, my thoughts, my words, my mood.

I'm pushing for a better life.

I think you've got me mixed up.

Further the water, the line of dreams.

Where are you fellows taking me?

I'm pusher for a better life.

Concealment perverts whereas knowledge and freedom civilize.

As well as surviving, I'm trying to live. Well... In fact, I could say: As well as trying to live, I'm surviving, because the goal of our life is not surviving but living. As well as walking safely, I'm walking freely.  What good would it be to walk (even to live) if we didn't walk (or live) freely?

Our societies are full of frightened people; frightened and sluggish. They fear trying new experiences, changing outdated habits, fighting for higher freedom. They are sluggish because they preffer to stay in their humdrum life's style than to improve their sanity by leaving old and obsessive impositions. 

I have just come from paradise, a place where people is in harmony with their own body and with the body of the other human beings. The validity of the monstrous repression of the moral doctrines of the big religions has expired. Human beings can live without a continual battle against their naked bodies. The knowledge and the usual seeing of naked human bodies doing natural and familiar activities get the sanity for all the human minds that grow in these circumstances. Concealment perverts whereas knowledge and freedom civilize.

Do you like being naked?

-Oh! You like being nude! Isn't it?

-No... In fact, I never think about being nude... What I like is feeling the Sun, the wind, the sea... on my whole skin as it was just one reality... I like doing it while I smell the pines and hear the wave's sound, and fill myself with such a beautiful landscape... If I thought I had to be nude... or if I wished the idea of being naked... I would lose all those perceptions

The little foolish things of life are the core of our life:
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3QFCtveFZdM

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If you don't leave all, you will stay in the hustle.

I'm seeing you in the end of the Earth, in a wild spot where you have just arrived, because you decided to go further than the famous and popular paradises of the travel agencies that sold you the trip. But I realize you wear your shimmering shorts in red and blue, clean and ironed; and the Ray-Ban glasses, and your face and attitude a little bit hidebound, tense... It looks as if you didn't want to mess with the sand.

In fact, you are still in the civilization, in the frenzy of owning and feigning. 

If you don't leave all (all you have, all you believe, all you fear, all you want to look like...), you will stay in the hustle, far away from this freedom. 

If you don't blend yourself into this landscape, you will keep in you mind the invisible chains of repression. 

If you don't get naked, you will be just a visitor, and you will not be part of the landscape. 

#naturism #freikörperkultur #fkk #nature #freedom #beach #sea #mediterranean #calafonda #waikiki

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