The “others” are not bothers but brothers; brothers and sisters in this strange and beauteous existence.

Sometimes, life is unable to tell us why we feel as we missed some indeterminated thing. This misterious thing that we miss may be a reality that society has always stealing us.

A swift ride may not be enough to understand the issue. We need a slow walk to contemplate the instant that we are living.

We are often sucked by the black pipe of the productivity. The world convinces us to feel as we were bees chasing a happiness that we always seek in the future; in a future hive of honey.

The modern world's priests of fashion and power with the dazzle of their clothes, and their cars, and their rings, and their snobs shapes... seem to grant us the privilege of imitating them. They assure us that our existence have only value if we live like them, if we seem to them.

The secret of the power over the men and women of the world hides in the fear and in the lie. Therefor, those who aren't afraid become free, and those who don't believe all the mermaid's songs, become free too.

The greatest deeds aren't the wars but the smiles, aren't the far and dangerous travels but the wisdom of walking slowly by a street of your town, discovering the hidden beauty of the daily shapes. The greatest deeds are the capacity to be free, to go beyond the edges of the social canons, keeping the strong will of loving people because we feel that they are those who we may had been if we had existed in their circumstances. The “others” are not bothers but brothers; brothers and sisters in this strange and beauteous existence.

Sometimes, our mind ascribes false skills to the “others”. Another times, it ascribes them false defects... because our mind is a product of the species evolution, that fights to survive, transforming the reality into a different story, a story that reinforces our ego, our self-esteem.

We need to be happy to be able to answer our own mind, to tell our mind that the “others” are only those who we would have been if we had existed in the body and the circumstances of the “others”.

We must grant them the gift of being loved by us. No one should bypasses the empathy, the compassion, the true and deep love towards all the people.

Our inmost mind knows that the “others” are like each of us.

The life looks curiously at us when we watch it without fear in our eyes. It's easy enough to see the happiness when we leave all the fears. 

It's hardly worth examining and sifting all the causes and explanations of the individual attittudes. We can try to study them in a general way through the brain's science, however we must leave the trend to judge or to condemn or to hate.

The love is the most effective therapy for those who hate. If I hate you, please... love me... because (due to my hate) I need your love more than any other person. Usually, when you offer love, you generate love too.

Meantime, happiness arises like the sun in a bright summer morning near the sea. 

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Edinburgh in the night.

Edinburgh in the night,

and a explossion of light,

with the stone of the fronts,

drawing up smart lines 

of the dreams and the drums,

in the dark city's closes,

while a fairy sings loud,

and a lullaby sounds, 

through a window in pale

yellow candle of oil,  

under the biggest moon

beyond the fog it shines

dress of colours and roses

beside the freedom's minds

where the great poet lies

despite the time goes by.

For a soul of his age

he is pure like a child

at the end of the days.

                                                Jeremias Soler

TED approaches us to the art of Miru Kim

I am always positively shuddered with the point of view of Miru Kim

Unscrupulous sheepherders.

I don't like many things of the world where I live. 
The utilitarian education creates narcissistic monsters.
Fear manufactures bad persons.
People often is a herd moved by unscrupulous sheepherders; 
every sheep has tied dreams;
the identity of every sheep is sheared;
every sheep is punished for being creative.

I don't like the exemplars of monkeys 
that consider themself superior;
they shepherd the flock to where the livestock industry is
to kill or to enslave the sheeps.
But the herd is made of hearts,
and every heart is a creator,
every heart has an unique capacity to create, to love, to grow up.

Everybody has the right to be a superior aim, 
higher than the drove.
Every consciousness is the main aim of the universe.
People should fight for everybody's freedom,
for the right to be free, for the right to be creator, for the right to be able to love.
Everybody has the right to identity, the right to be oneself.
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We don't need none to clap us, none to pay us, none to enrich us, our richness is that we like doing.

Many people do the things they like rather well (painting, singing, writting...), but many of these people usually think that they don't do well enough. It happens because they compare themselves with the stars, with the artists that people admire. There always will be someone who will do the things better than everyone of us, and many people will not be able to enjoy their practises by comparisons. Perhaps they'll do in a hidden place, probably they will not show what they do, they will act as if they were making a mistake, a crime, a sin... This is a wrong attitude because happiness doesn't born from the aim of doing things in a way as perfect as the stars or professionals... Happiness flows simply when we do the things we like, just because we do these things, because we like doing these things, because when we do these things, we feel as if we put in touch with a high reality beyond the material world, a reality that takes us to the imagination's world, that takes up our brain, our soul, our mood.

We don't need none to clap us, none to pay us, none to enrich us, our richness is that we like doing. We don't need to do anything as perfect as the masters. We don't need to hide us or to hide our work  when we do what we like. We only need to do freely the things we like, because we enjoy doing and showing those things.  

Everybody have strong creative capacity; it's worth develop it. Society often (probably unconsciously) tries to drown this trend to convert individuals into useful elements of the production's chain. But we are all creators. 

Don't obey those who say you can't. You can. If you feel, you can. Don't listen those who will put their fingers in your eyes to discourage you. They feel bad because they know that you are the proof of their failure, because they could and they didn't want. The society's pace convinced them to forget their soul.    

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Why do so many people hate what is different? The identities are rights of the peoples.

Aurresku is a traditional dance of Euskadi

Source: www.dantzariak.com

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The Universe agrees with a nod when a culture works to survive. He nods his head full of stars, and smiles with a nebula, and turns on the light of the suns. He stares my little country, despised for centuries.  

Why do so many people hate what is different? 

I've watched carefully some non french persons, and I have realised how many of them detest some french people only because they are french people. I've discovered them throwing an empty plastic bag on the ground of France while they say “the trash for the french people...”. Why do so many people hate the cultures that are different, the languages that are different, the differences, after all...?

Some people hate still stronger the internal differences of their states. For instance, some Spanish people say that they are against the idea of independence for Catalonia or for Euskadi... but they don't realise that they have a brisk separatist attitude when they don't accept that catalan language or euskera may be official languages in E.U. parliament or in Spanish parliament, when they deny the convenience of teaching catalan language or Euskera in all the spanish schools. They, innerly, consider that every culture different to castilian culture is not really a Spanish culture... so... they are the strongest separatists with their contempt for the catalan language or for the non castilian culture. Everybody must freely think and opine, but with respectful attitudes, and using democratic and pacific tools to decide the future of the states. Every people must decide its own future; the union that borns from a free decission is the strongest of all the possible unions. If the union is an imposition, really doesn't exist.

There is no many  sadder realities than the hate that borns from ignorance. I'm not talking about an ignorance caused by the lack of knowledges but about an  ignorance that  arises from an special sort of attitude. There are many intellectual people, with university degrees, with academic prestige, that suffers from a deep ignorance in their attitudes. They are like prehistoric men, attacking any non tribal symbol, and trying to justify the contempt for the cultures that they don't understand. They feel resentful because of their inability to understand feelings and cultures that they don't own, and this resentment angers them.

We must work for a world that may shine with the diversity of its cultures. The cultures, the languages, the identities are rights of the peoples... and anyone who hates any culture, is also hating all the cultures of the world, and after all is hating himself.

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A place where the stars draw, over the sky, the answer to the questions about the beauty's misteries.

 Parc Güell, Barcelona.

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There is a place on mind where consciousness flies over gleaming colors. These colors take their hands and start the elevated dance of existence. A place where the stars draw, over the sky, the answer to the questions about the beauty's misteries.

There is a place for the thoughts that calls us to fly over the Mediterranean waters and over the patchs of the olive-trees, to see the geckos beside the lights of the old country houses and the tall palm trees that hold the dome of a sky full of twilights.

There is a red earth that  is ours. An earth made of blood, sweat and hope. An earth irrigated by the aches of many mothers, and by some special scents: wine's scent, and scent of ancient cellar, and scent of wet and mown grass. An earth irrigated by the tears of some ancestor that feel happy for the sight of the growing life, in spite the sorrows, the wars and the death.

There is an space that no critical can touch with the tips of the nails. A place beyond the rational reality. The wise critical is silent in front of the art, because the art doesn't walk by plotted routes. The unexpected realities discover never seen oceans; indescribable blue stained oceans.

Suddenly, in the middle of this immense space. The true “I” recognises itself in the outside light. This light explains why we are, and why no matter if the beauty is (or isn't) useful, and why  worth breathing, and why we should fear nothing, and why is all so deep and so beautiful.