Why?

That who eternally seeks, by universality devotes his life to seeking. He rarely finds.
Who has found never lost what he's encountered. He's always known where it was.
Who has arrived just as he promised didn't get lost on the way. His essence is spotless.
Who has been found was waiting for his being looked for. His need has defined him.

That who always knew himself has always been what he is.
He exists.
He guides.
He chooses.
He does not touch: He feels.
Lives.
His value goes further away from what simple mortality represents.
His joy resides in everything that there is, everything that is surrounded by his presence.
The truth is that his happiness does not matter, though.
He does not search it, he does not claim for it, does neither frivolize nor idealize it, doesn't yearn for it.
Why?

invited

Books I've read the last months:
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1.Alvin Maker Jr I. - Seventh son of a seventh son (Orson Scott Card)
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2. Disciplina Inteligente (Vidal Schmill) - I don't like reading this sort of things, but I had to because of work.
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3. Complete tales II (Isaac Asimov)
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Music I've recently been hearing:
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1. RUSH
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2. DREAM THEATER
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3. Diego Torres - haha, this one is not from work, I admit it. I really like it.
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4. Los toreros muertos
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5. Laco Tayfa
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Movies I've seen recently:
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1. American gangster.
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2. I am legend.
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3. Ratatouille.
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4. 27 dresses

Monday afternoon

Unemptying. Filling back. Little by little. With your own beat. With your veins. With your legs. I elevate my structure and I fit it into your song. Beautiful piece of intact future. Of ever growing palpitations that from this moment forth shall rule and stick us together. Rhythms that even without simetry display our symphony and turn us into this which we are after orgasm. Heating calm fire light. That grants and softens our peace...


Spanish version

Espacios

Jonás was his name and, like everyone or like no one, the whole of him was an enormous cetacean due to all he carried within. Pondering were all of the meaningful figures that wandered inside his stomach. Memories, wounds, recalls, beautiful moments. We can't go on being stuck in here, said all to each other. All of them agreed on this, however none could simply go away. There was a memory of her lost mother that kept clinging there trying to heal his stress-related heartburn. The images of his wedding and his first happy days with his wife smoothed the pain caused by his stomach ulcer. And so on. Jonás himself sometimes talked with his organs and apologized for the work overload or thanked them for their always punctual and efficient duties. His heart seemed particularly praiseworthy to him. Always in a constant struggle with the nervous system. Blood flowing and electricity thundering here and there.

Sometimes, Jonás realized that he -meaning his essence- was not in any of his organs. It was in those moments, as he floated in air without looking back or without allowing any physical sentiment, that he felt truly Jonás. He flew then. Suddenly a whole new series of ethereal appendixes like enormous rows sprouted from within his whale fins and everything turned into simply pure. He forgot nothing, but nor did he remember. His body was at peace: the ulcer, the small clots in his veins, the hereditary inkling from arthritis that would never develop fully just because he was a man, the callus that was turning into stone underneath his left food, the recurrent pain in his ears. The whole of him was a weightless little paper in the shape of a sperm whale.

When Jonás was at one, some of his memories managed to get one-way tickets to oblivion. They raised their tiny little thousand-shaped and varied-smoothed hands as if they were old-fashioned single virgins hopping and jumping to reach for the just-thrown-to-the-air bride's bouquet. They said "me! me!" And in the end some of them went away, leaving empty spaces for the others to fill at will, and others remained there sunk in envies and unevenness. They sent then messages to the brain that said "we're still here!" And the pain started once again. Jonás then went back to his litany of ailments and unprescribed medicine, and peace was then missed, longed for as beauty is needed when it's not there.

Then some day, cancer arrived and all, all of the organs without exception, started to fear a coming invasion. The stomach died and along died the rest of the organs and it was like so that Jonás died. With nothing else to say. Like everyone or like no one. His last thought was in fact a feeling. A moment of communion of his body in which all of the moments, memories, experiences, schemes, feeling and images of his life gathered together just to say " "

Spanish version

That good-byes might as well be welcomes...

That the new year, thought Martha. What's such concept to me? My planning of the year started some months ago, when I decided what I would do for the rest of my days, when I saw myself at last getting new calls from the alternate-dream makers and I told them no more. When my mind was so made and resolved to keep on its verdict.

She realized that she was thinking in Spanish with phrases in another language and remembered Sandra Bullock in Forces of Nature: "How can anyone decide which clothes they're going to wear for the next 25 years?" Well, she stated to herself, I can. Not only can I do it, but I also accept it with pride and devotion. With determination, respect, patience and worship that transmute the anger that was left by an absence that should never have been. Today nothing starts, she kept on thinking: Starting this year, my new years start in November, that's why I'm saying my goals started to take place one month and days ago. The world is beautiful when the appropriate decisions are taken. Unfortunately, it so happened that in order to know what was best, I first chose the wrongest. It hurts, but I'm working within myself so that it won't hurt anymore, so that my memory can be that of a gentleman's before his lady, and nothing may rise above the surface anymore.

Hot water. Lots of sugar. Well, not that much. A muffin. Raspberry jam. Small joys that now had a meaning. A duvet underneath which to lay her feet -and his too- and a light movie for both of them.

Martha rained serenely. Her whole self, with her thoughts and her recalcitrant heart that kept on pulsing with the images from her mind emerging from within the heat with tea smell. She burned. She roared. She flowed like a river at times overflown. Then she eased again. She trembled in tiny orgasms. As in little goosebumps made music by sighs. She let herself be drawn away as if being a desert sandstorm, and the closer she was to her expanded and abysmal goal, the wind that was transforming her into this storm slackened at last and let her lie on the ground she so truly loved and allowed her to be part of a new and humid land that happily permitted her to adhere. For her to turn into fertile soil where the most gracious and beautiful plants were about to sprout.


Spanish version

You and I

You and I

Light poles that entwine...
I'm a sun...
I shine...
I've faith...
I've got strength and drive...
And all I give to you...
I share...
Easy, without rushes, it's all yours...
In this new start...
Within this original glory...
Within this unedited challenge...
That transports us to eternity...
Both shining...
With a new light...
Clear flash communion...
Displayed upon infinity...

The trees

There was a time when the trees grew with their boney and crooked branches only and exclusively up. The scientists looked at such wonder with faked awe and said that the Apocalypse was very soon to come. Religious people came close to the trees with peace and study in their faces and gave all kinds of explanations related to botany. It was the fall. The remaining leaves fell and the branches were left completely shelterless as the wild animals ran off the frozen trunks in order to go hide on the other side of the horizon, into the sea. The branches finished then their straightening when the Winter ended. Spring made the insects come back and they all became plague. Harvests were destroyed, animals sacrificed and food was compressed. The youth came out to the streets to announce the end of the world with enormous banners and protest yelling aimed at the Creator. Children and professionals left out pencils and, at seeing themselves disabled at erasing, they wrote with electronic keyboards, without mistakes. Summer came and all the trees were now over two meters high. A year had passed and man still could not understand the why of nature's behaviour. Churches began to give and forgive people's sins on the squares, which were left without plants since they had to cut everything down for everyone to fit in. Scientists started to study the trunks and branches with real eagerness, and they realized that they were more normal than ever. So, every person on Earth that was not linked to science or religion started to lose their faith in evolution and creation when they realized scientists and priests were getting rich at their expense. So, one day, they simply threw them into the void. The following day a true Spring began and people came out into the streets to work and live in peace, without using more than was needed and thinking only about the future with patience and wisdom. From the trees leaves sprouted, branches bloomed and flowers gave abundant fruit. And then said God: it is amazing that these poor men require so much in order to understand that science and religion should consist only of being happy.

Written in 1991

spanish version