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Student Publications
Marthe Elena Vald�s Liz�rraga
Genuine Human Stories
Area: Human Development
Country:
Program: Education Doctorate
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I n t r o d u c t i o n
Because my existence proceeds
from the fountain inexhaustible joy,
I offer my dreams to the divine
light,
the spring of the inspiration from
�the holy one�.
The softness and delicacy of the
spirit has its subtle manifestation
through the written word, verse or
prose, harmoniously, covered up with
free thoughts woven in open mind.
This mind is without bonds; the
spirit invites the mind to travel
and, leads the creative imagination
on a trip with no destination point.
The trip is dizzying and penetrates
the most intimate fibers of the body
that sprout, like sparkling lights
and with the permission of the
conscience, use words as mediators.
The words approximately take a
photograph like the effect of the
ray that penetrates the heart and
the mind as a literary dreamer.
As the thoughts silently announce
that they are resting an allegorical
manifestation is generated in the
feelings. The serotonin show their
conformity and loyalty to the heart;
that in turn knocks on the door of
the spirit, which without delay,
pushing the energetic flow, removes
its garments to let out the
spontaneity and profundity of the
human being.
Thus, the evolution of the conscious
in perceived rapidly through any
type or genre of writing that
occasionally remains like an
explosion of repressed feelings. In
the projection of the �I�, the
shadow, and the centaur follow. And
in others it is the vivid presence
of the spirit that covers these
cloaks of fictitious mental creation
and flourishes brightly, accompanied
by the chant of the cosmic universe.
In this moment there is no time, no
space; these remain in nothingness.
There is only a profound perception
of peace, harmony, and conciliation
with humanity. From a compassionate
and empathetic state, human beings
fight on imperceptible scales,
between turbulent demons and
melodious angels. That fight resides
in one�s own intimacy where triumph
is negated by sublime sentiments.
Cybernetic humanity awards a trophy
to the human passions that give a
hand to suffering, rancor, anger,
jealously, and avarice. Human beings
are sunk in a black hole, as they
confusingly nap in the shade of
negation of life, smothering the
most sublime right of existence.
The tendency to flee from the
goodness of life qualifies this
stage as dehumanizing and
antipoetic.
Literary expression has been
limited, as our conscious is limited
to the point where it is similar to
a balsam, where we human beings
write when there is suffering in our
hearts.
Nevertheless, this period of
literary creation emerges as a
necessity of my spirit, of my
commitment of existence. Or perhaps,
it rises from my ego; I don�t know.
The journey through poetry, stories
and monologues will give you
permission, my friends, the readers,
to enjoy with me the trip I wish to
undertake.
Thank you for being here and now let
us accompany each other on that
truly solitary experience. Do not
quit being a restorer, so that my
spirit and yours that wish to wake
up from this nightmare of
millenniums would resoundingly beg
to wake up in one universal
conscious.
Thank you, humanity of centuries,
for being part of me. To you I
dedicate this literary compendium,
titled: �Genuine Human Stories�
(With your permission, humanity, now
it is our turn to live).
Waking Up
A bitter song of prayer
engulfs the gale of human
inspiration.
from all sides the clamor
of pain rings out.
Oh, human race? What do you harbor?
Resentments, wrath, and rancor,
crushing the tenderness inherent
in the beat of each heart
The discovery of new paths
sanctifies the justice;
and in the dark room infinite
anguish and worry hide.
Human beings, brothers,
if what occurs does not disturb our
intellect
or our magnificent invention,
why aren�t we content with such
opulent radiance?
And Mother Earth is teaching
with patience and understanding
that there are no borders that
divide
the infinite creative cosmos.
Unity, integrity, and connection
are the lessons modern selves must
learn
before our stubborn determination
destroys our home.
I am sure that wisdom
is not an intellectual invention,
but is the compass that steadies
the horizon of the integrated man.
Wisdom is the orchestrated love
of mankind, nature, and celestial
universe
that synchronizes silently
and echoes with sonorous silence.
Still, we acknowledge the marvels of
technology,
scientific advances, the orbiting of
the planets.
Meanwhile, the imbalance of humanity
grows
Like a noxious weed devouring the
harvest.
We call in unison
for a compassionate dialogue
that sows
transcendent change.
Bringing out the beauty
of a curative universe,
embracing the multi-ethnic bloom
and feeding the destitute.
The richness of spirit
will emerge to admire its mission,
lacing its ties
in one heart.
Decisive dreams cry out
in my ardent intimacy,
upon seeing this humanity
relishing such close joy.
Here you are happy, vibrating
like the birth of a sun;
the face of a mother leans over you,
cloaking you with caresses.
Winds and chills fall from the West
tidal waves from the East,
we go to the peak of the mountain
to contemplate our disdain.
If our group consciousness emerges
there would be new roads,
that are not decayed discourses,
rather spirit with a child�s
innocent laughter.
Rivers, prairies and lakes,
mountains, deserts and pines,
comets, stars and moons
dance like witnesses.
Come on! Move consciousness!
Awaken from your millennium-year old
sleepwalk!
Realize that the solution for your
invented conflict
Is near, very near.
Without dogmas, tortures, or myths
divest the known effortlessly from
your heart,
as you realize that your only answer
lies
in the intimacy of your nest.
A nest with the scent of flowers,
with the taste of honey,
and the sound of warbling
frolicking with pleasure.
Thank you life, thank you death,
for this present, unitarily
perceived,
without rules, or borders, or
differences,
secluded silence, so alone,
dissolved in total emptiness.
The Miniscule Stature of Humanity
The miniscule stature of humanity
spurts up in each divided brain.
While the eternal prescience of the
mobile universe
awaits patiently the dim but
redemptive light.
A golden infinity, magnificent,
grows even in the twilight of a
painful life,
from obscurity, from agitated
whirling;
every instant shapes a linked whole.
Every movement, every silence, every
tear
forms a cosmic dance,
sketches destinies in song,
composes rhythms of vibrant fantasy.
Our life is an unfinished melody
that with sweet notes and lost tunes
stirs a sole song in wandering life,
and bitter sweetly contrasts joy
with wounds.
The most intimate essence of mankind
awaits the mythical introspection.
While individuals masking their
routines
Trust the obstinacy of evasive
deeds.
There is no echo that thunders in
the silence
there is no movement that doesn�t
shake the cosmic harmony
and no individual who with strength
satisfies his infinite interior
and reconciles with life giving love
to his own self.
Brotherhood is only lived from the
profound.
Looking tenderly to the Olympic, we
see
our face reflected, transformed,
like birds with intuitive wings.
Worries are alleviated.
Rebellion increases
and from the union between universe
and self
an authentic act of love takes
flight.
Like a drop of water that joins in
the sea
we merge together in the endless
ocean of our lives
and with varied hues we paint our
encounters,
deciding, approving or renouncing
our union with the eternal.
Not conforming with what we have or
are,
unconscious of the lived moment
we ramble with debris
that freezes our repressed
potential.
Look, falsehood blocks you.
With a gust of truth you erode.
However, the trained mind corrals
you and contradicts
any intent of a conscious state.
Our quivering union is impossible to
imagine.
To conquer human yearning,
authentic love must move in balance.
The confidence to exist reaches out
a hand to us.
A Hidden Treasure
I hiked fatigued into the mountains
and at the peak exhaustion detained
me on a rock.
I contemplated the union of sky and
earth
behind a sunset that illuminated the
atmosphere.
I realized the scarcity of time we
dedicate
to meeting with Nature�s offerings.
Each day we scorn her celestial
displays.
Still they give us ineffable
tonalities, a grand esteem for life.
For an instant I felt like a leaf
fallen from a tree in autumn.
Living without respite, amid
crushing noises and intense fear
of reflection, of discovery of
myself -- behind the silence --
the treasure that lies hidden and
asphyxiated inside.
Still, the fallen leaves, yellowing
and lifeless,
reminded me that in the tree from
which they grew there is a lesson:
�Return fearlessly to green life,
bravely, in a pastoral cycle.
Open your arms to the loving birds
and give breath to all else.�
I recognized the futile distance
between myself and nature,
that I must shed the heavy life of
routine
and face the stubbornness that
alienates me,
leaves me without delight in hues
and essences.
Then, I could gaze upon the sky, the
earth, the ground, the sea,
with gladness, and a great vitality
and energy.
I realized the marvels granted us by
the planet
that shares, without laws, theories,
or racial divide.
Behold the teachings granted us by
nature.
Men walk without seeing the
footprints they leave on the path;
Thinking only of control, force,
power,
determined to travel the road that
will dominate all else.
Fallacy that clouds human vision,
when will we see with clarity?
When we embrace nature�s hidden
treasure.
We must not lose an instant of its
marvels.
I Am Not Alone
Walking, with nostalgia,
I wanted to cover my face.
Was solitude this black cloud
that shrouded me at whim?
I cried, I screamed, distressed.
Beseechingly, I asked the cosmos
for a moment of peace.
I knew something was about to
happen.
I could not resist; I felt it
approach
and overwhelm me with shrieking,
crippling my soul time after time.
I confronted my irate, depressed
shadow.
My soul leaned away.
I didn�t want to hear more
of this furious self
that incited me to quarrel.
For a moment, my ego seized power.
At the mercy of that bitter
outburst,
I lamented my impure existence,
my life of challenge, my love of
singularity.
But my inner voice relieved me
and succored me in that emptiness.
�You are not alone. You are not
alone.�
It sprang up, insistent, like the
dew.
When I heard this tiny voice,
stirring
between my temples, I burst into
tears,
and with joy I welcomed the
unnamable
nestled in the folds of my mind.
Sobbing, I stayed in silence,
delighting in this sweet company,
fulfilled by an encounter
without bonds, without guilt,
without melancholy.
I ask only that this light
illuminate me forever.
I am ready to follow the path it
lights
as a spirit at peace
with the truth of the universe.
Ink of Light
With the fragrance of a cold
morning,
I nestled, grateful
for this life, this breath
that gently wakes my cells.
For a moment, my stubborn desires
rested.
My adventures were tired.
Ink, like a tender light,
clearly illuminated the path.
Behind my earthly vision, blurry and
flat,
a compassionate melancholy lay
dormant in my internal fibers,
calling for a new awareness.
I imagined myself in such solitude
that life flourished,
joyful, bitterness fading into
memory.
The magic of that galactic
consciousness
broke the false bonds of my
purgatory.
I sketched a planet in tune,
where we humans beamed.
We met ourselves, emerging from
obscurity,
to the universe�s cosmic rhythms.
On the planet, an infinite light
enveloped both night and day, both
hemispheres.
It sheltered us all without
distrust,
without differences. The tranquil
silence thrummed.
Harmony transcended words;
we lived in peace, without religious
bias.
With �mitzvah� we translated
comfort, compassion.
With heartfelt �shalom� we ourselves
transcended.
We walked without shadow, without
hindrance,
with wisdom, with humility, with the
joyous cries
of having found, in an instant,
a new universe beyond centuries.
The group mind beat in tune;
it traveled with sure steps,
without imagined worries,
with the torch�s light spread to all
corners.
And millions of people appeared.
Elbow to elbow they trembled at the
encounter:
Mother Theresa of Calcutta, Gandhi,
Parahamanda
fenced along the drawn-out path.
Krishnamurti, Ramayana:
they too smiled with visible ease.
We awoke to the eternal
with our consciousness timelessly
united.
Our minds, in ecstatic vibration,
Found what was lost
from the parts of ourselves impeded
by ego.
They expanded and shone on the
truth. .
Mother Nature stayed still,
contemplative, content, waiting
for bewildered humans
to see certainty with the three eyes
of knowledge..
At once, the trees extended their
arms,
forgiving humanity for its neglect.
With a prayer of earthly
resurrection,
we embraced, resting in a place of
mercy. .
Though I had only dreamed, and
translated that dream
to paper, I know it is the throbbing
vision of all humans
aware of the destruction of beauty.
We pray that more enlightened ink
shines.
In cosmic resonance, small lights
burned,
and centuries of humanity connected,
achieving the just, the true, and
the beautiful,
breathing in immensity, without
dogmas.
Humanity, only a blink of an eye and
you cease
to carry regret with you. You awaken
heartily
and give up your armor. You are
rebuilt.
Lean on a foundation of peace and
felicity for the whole world.
Bless all humanity.
Oh that the strength of collective
prayer
would transform vanity to wisdom
and the material mirage would yield
to joy.
Hope in Life
Confronting a mountain of papers of
the day, correspondence and notes,
�Hope� overworked by the humor, the
agony and the sweat of the ordinary,
toiled at the same time as trying to
achieve a childhood dream that
intensified like a whirlwind every
instant of her life. It was an
internal voice that told her �come
on write, let out your spirit that
knows the essence of awakening an
inspiration, timeless, without
space� eternal.�
As she worked �I� observed her
carefully. She felt something pushed
her; something in her transcended.
�Well, what are you doing?�, �The
Boss� surprised her in a pensive
state.
Hope jumped and responded �I�
perceive, living my existence. No!
Excuse me, organizing, yes, of
course, organizing the mail.
�The Boss�, impatiently and with an
authoritative tone states: Hurry up,
as your sighs cut the little
activity in your brain and make
people less productive. Let�s go!
Let�s go! Hurry up! Minutes are
dollars and hours are�� -pausing
with an astute gesture and
continuing as she savored that
philosophy that will bring her the
future-. �� mmmm, more dollars, a
fortune.�
�Ma�am, ma�am, wait�, with a warm
smile and with the coolness of a
transparent heart, Hope inquired
�What flavor and aroma does your
life have?�
�What?. What?, What flavor does my
life have? Ha! Forget about that
question. One can see that you
continue in the same way, imagining
possible worlds that don�t exist.
Questions that take away time. Let�s
see, tell me who would be interested
these days, where�modernism reigns
and technology shakes our brains.
That�s only for those who behind
comic glasses and a pen and paper
believe they are saviors of the
world. These are the ones called,
mmmm, yes philosophers, authors, and
they are no more than screwed up
vagrants lost in the dimension of
time and ones that say that life
should believed in harmony and
criticize any type of business
deals. Thus, they consider
PROO-GRESS like the extermination of
reality. Tremendous fools. What
pains in the neck they are,
ingrates. So, how do they survive?
Where does their substance come
from?
Hope, with a sweet and insistent
smile, repeated the question:
�ma�am, what flavor and aroma does
your life have?�
�Ha!, Ha!, Ha! She halted and turned
with an offensive look, turning her
head negatively and said: �It�s as
if, you foolish girl, that thinking
of this useless way of life would
give the planet change of direction
and� the human mind would
miraculously change.
�The Boss� gave a half-turn and
walked towards her office, Somewhat
perplexed she stopped, altered her
mocking face, at the same time
turning and realizing that the
relaxing of her face was clear. The
uncertainty of the complexity
already occurred by then. Walking
with slow steps, she stopped at the
door and simulate her wisdom, her
face transformed from malice and
manipulation and said energetically.
�Don�t you see that entertaining
yourself with this is pure utopia,
fantasy, craziness, Chinese stories.
Go, put your feet on �The Earth� and
move your fingers with great speed
on the keyboard for which we hired
you. We pay you pretty well, so
don�t rob time immersed in this
nonsense.�
Hope was my companion my whole life.
�I� felt an intense affection for
her. And although I didn�t tell her,
I thought her perception of life was
something strange, so strange that�
I repeated to her insistently:
�Friend, friend, I like your
simplicity and this�how�how can I
explain it; I don�t know. This
naivete of yours, this unexpected
harmony. See, I don�t know but it is
something that is felt deep inside,
way down, yes, yes in the spirit.
It�s like a lovely indescribable
energy that sooths and calms the
demons that lie in the entrails of
this body. And its creases become
more pronounced over the years. But
I can�t lie to you. You are so close
to me. And you know that I feel
tremendously and inexplicably
confused. There is a distance
between good and bad, between love
and hate there is another; and
between�well, let�s see, why do I
talk of distances? Also, what is
between me and my soul?... I don�t
want to reply. Although I want to
hide it with spoken words, well-spun
empty talk surely, there is dread,
fear, emptiness, vast emptiness. And
after, after I ask my self what
there is beyond this mind that lives
in fantasy about that imagined
future full of illusions, dreams
that God knows will happen.
My self, �If I exist contemplating
the past and discerning the future,
when do I live?� What flavor does my
fugitive life have in his moment,
this eternal moment. Already,
already, enough, I don�t want to
think any more �The Boss� is?? The
sort of successful woman, who
secured by �blue blood� doesn�t
connect with those matters that
could appear and debilitate her iron
heart. She is afraid to let go of
mask after mask, since to do so,
brings dread and of course destroys
the fascination, the sweetness, or
as Stop! Stop! But why such
complication. Look what I am
creating in y head. Really, after
all, �The Boss� is rich
ostentatious. Her demeanor is high
class with enormous jewels, no less
this choker of 18 karat gold that
rests on her neck. Yes, yes, a neck
of an elephant. I can�t imagine the
sum of money she spent. Ay, mother!
I know I�ve let my tongue out and
offended this funny mammal. Although
she is rough and massive, she is so
tender that she lures ones
fascination, similar to a magnet,
attracting those who have a child
like spirit.
Although Hope and I conversed
profoundly our values of life were
opposite. While �I� �the mind�
analyzed and scrutinized everything,
my faithful friend, Hope, took a few
minutes of peace for herself and
experienced a pleasant affection for
life. Therefore the constant
observations of the boss didn�t
worry me at all as the practical
intelligence of Hope was up to all
tests, demonstrating a great ability
and excellence in all of her tasks.
These were impeccable, end with a
touch of creativity that wouldn�t
have even occurred to �The Boss�.
Her tasks were submitted timely. And
although �The Boss� would never tell
her, she always learned from Hope.
The boss signed the reports, and
because of their qualify they
appeared in the newspapers of the
community. And of course �The Boss�
photograph appear, the jewels always
will displayed, whose size could be
confused with the soundness of her
face. It was just a reflection of
the abundant spicy food, the
pleasures of tequila, the nocturnal
sleeplessness in the plaza that were
in favor of planetary life.�
Strangely it was the presence of
Hope that softened me. Sometimes we
chatted, and sometimes I didn�t find
her, perhaps because I spent too
much time on the business of the
day. Nevertheless, I was in the
habit of writing, and this allowed
me to be closer to her.
In Hope�s diary entry that day there
was a note that conveyed:
Today I feel in harmony, thinking
about the unity of my being that
gently trebles at the contact with
this energy. This intersection is
knocked over with contentment an
orchestral music by the stars of the
cosmos, witnesses to this
transformation and connection with
my molecular particles and the great
infinite immortality.
An aroma is perceived, hummmm, and
smells of peace, justice and
equality. I listen; I see; I turn
over in the space without space, in
the timelessness. In the� si-len-ce,
si-len-ce, I go; I go. I flow to the
vacuity where my spirit is flooded
with profound, nameable joy. I feel
one with the world, one with the
universe, one with �The holy one�.
This is indescribable. It is more
than a sensation. It is �LOVE,
farther away than time and space, in
the implicit order of the marvelous
cosmic creation, without limits,
without borders and in complete
creative freedom.
September 6, 2012.
I only know that Hope is in a cosmic
dimension. And although it is
difficult to understand, it is the
internal light, burning and vibrant.
We cannot perceive it because of our
eclipsing and bewildering routine.
Here am I; Here are you; and where
is Hope? Tell me. What flavor and
aroma does your life at this moment,
our lives?
A comet through dark lenses
On the eve of a comet, the crowds
were entrenched, eagerly waiting to
witness of the most surprising
phenomenon of the Universe.
The hours passed more slowly. The
shouts were heard; and there were
pushing and panting. No doubt, the
phenomenon turned into a carnival.
The vendors did not miss the event,
offering large 3-D glasses that
insured the best view of the
spectacle. On each corner, in aloud
commercial voice, they announced:
�These are the best! A reasonable
price, try them. Don�t let yourself
be deceived by those: these are
glare-proof.�
Nevertheless, there was some truth
to the propaganda. The spectators
should have protected themselves
from any type of alteration of light
provoked by the crossing of this
announced event and the chaotic
state of weakness of the earth.
As the squeezing was getting more
and more intense, the sky silently
cleared its corpulent clouds to open
the curtains of the immense
infinity, without charging a price,
with emblematic dance, to reveal the
apparition of one of the most
captivating marvels.
Besides the fever of the promoters
of the glasses, there were hundreds
of creatures consuming corn cobs,
peanuts and all sorts of junk food,
contaminated by the impure air of
the environment, capable of causing
tremendous digestive explosions. The
streets filled up with beer and
liquor. And the young girls paraded
in their tailored clothes
intentionally provoking the hormonal
fluttering of the boys and also the
malicious old men, who looked out of
the corners of their eyes in front
of their wives!, vigilance and their
impish kids.
Mandito asked, �When is the sky
going to paint itself?�
�Don�t be impatient, child. The
comet will come at it�s determined
time. Hey, hey! Don�t be foolish.
Don�t remain without a seat Run;
look; there�s someone with his eye
to the sky. And surely at the first
distraction, you�ll remain
speechless.
As evening approached, the forecast
of the astronomers seemed to lose
the exactness of the event. The
updates jolted the people, waiting
impatiently. Suddenly, the stars
were more visible in the twilight.
�Mad, mad, is the sky sleeping?�
�No, Mandito, evening is coming and
night is filling the sky.�
�But, where is the tail, that you
told me would be large and colored
with diamonds?�
�Now you will see it and will
confirm what we read in that story.
Come on; eat your French fries and
drink your soda. Stop your questions
for a moment.�
Suddenly, unexpectedly a great smoke
filled the sky. A missile had
exploded in the vicinity of the
town.
The terrorized people left in a
flash. The celestial spectacle was
covered up, and the little boy was
prevented from admiring that which
he had longed to view.
�Mad, you told me that it was a long
bright tail that covered the sky. I
think you made a mistake. Instead of
giving me clear glasses, you bought
me dark ones, and I saw he universe
as black.�
Mandito kept the illusion of
experiencing the comet and in his
diary he drew a black spot. At the
bottom of the paper he wrote in
large letters: �IF I HADN�T WORN
DARK LENSES I would have fulfilled
what mad told me in my dreams about
that beautiful comet that happily
invaded our sky with light�.
A Lasting Smile
I was enticed by the idea of my
professor of Psychology who insisted
on the value of the smile. Using
anatomical explanations, she showed
us that our jaw was strengthened
each time we smiled. It was a
fantastic exercise to reduce the
crevices that clung to our face,
with the passing of time to denote
the accentuation of old age.
�Do I look old?� queried my
professor, �look at me well, for the
age that I am. The scar of the years
only stayed in those that didn�t
know how to move their dentures and
they are for from appreciating that
beautiful gift they could get by
smiling. A sincere smile, with love
and comfort gives strength to the
soul to energetically propel its
flight.
Look around you; marvel for a minute
at the street. Observe the huddle
faces that travel, like plastic
objects of wax, hard, tense. Others
walk, nodding their heads, bearing
the exhaustion. But it seems they
don�t recognize; they don�t feel
human. With a lost gaze they count
the minutes, prolonged minutes
without strength to continue with�
The usual.
Yes, with the routine.
I asked my teacher if I could share
an incident that had impacted my
life. It had to do with my
grandmother who smiled all the time.
Your grandmother, well also mine.
And mine.
And mine.
Shhhh! Well, tell us what you have
learned from life.
I remember with joy, the days that I
spent with my grandmother; she
always possessed a smile. She was a
beautiful woman. I thought she would
live forever, and her body would not
wrinkle. I assure you that I never
saw her as old; she was always full
of life. She shared her coffee; milk
and rolls with anyone who had the
kindness to greet her and declare,
�what a beautiful day this is�!
Look what devotion you had for her.
These are fantasies of yours.
Foolishness!
Let her finish; you always interrupt
when the stories have a rich taste
of melancholy, it seems everything
bothers your that doesn�t agree with
your bad temper and sophisticated
life of superficial magazines,
luxury cars and your impoverished
soul.
Well, I continued with my
crystalline eyes, remembering the
image of my grand mother, who in the
mornings greeted her neighbors. She
took her basket and brought food
from the nearby store to hand out.
She watered her garden and pet the
birds and dogs that turned up to
meet her. The little gifts were not
lacking for the line of
grandchildren. And we were there on
each of grandchildren. And we were
there on each birthday to receive
her affection. The music played
while she regaled us with soda,
beans and grand repertoire of
stories.
Time passed; and while I grew up, in
all of the situations of my life,
the image of my grandmother remained
fresh in my mind on weekends I ran
to see her and enjoy her smile. This
smile, full of charm offered me a
look that was different from books,
professors, he university,
scientists, theories, social modals
and so much babbling that invites
combat, envy and hides beauty.
With her I felt alive and eternally
young. I felt that it was potential
nourishment for my spirit to return
to comprehending the structural
roles of divisions through culture,
music and attire.
I comprehended then that life can�t
be studied through a microscope, or
on printed papers. We needed to feel
it, live it each moment, without
delay, without dogmas like that . We
spontaneously fearlessly open the
door that leads us to the gibberish
of the verbally inexplicable of the
inner soul.
My grandmother offered so much
teaching, that even on her deathbed
this smile remained eternally
pleasing, like an angel of light,
gratefully she concluded one or
phase on Earth with wisdom.
With moist eyes, but yet satisfied,
I concluded my story grateful for
life for giving me an opportunity to
have a grandmother for whom time
lacked value, coming after her
mission of life to share her riches
and internal integrity.
From then on, professor and friends,
I haven�t renounced the smile, and I
tell you with conviction that it�s
one of the gifts that life gives us
freely, to accept that we are a
shared essence. Important ideas
don�t have a price. Life in this
eternal moment teaches us that a
smile is the communication of love.
My teacher, with happy intonation
said: �Take the eternal youth and
invigorate our spirit every day by
practicing a smile that lasts
further away than the boundaries of
life and enter in contact with
beauty.
My friends, shaken with memories,
raised their hands to continue the
episodes lived with the eternal
value of a smile that comes from
within.
An Image; a mirror; perhaps this is
�I�
My image is formed in the mirror.
Is that me? The one who carries a
first name, a last name, a
profession.
I�d be too insignificant to imagine
I�m merely a name tag stuck on, and
I strive in the corner of silence to
recognize that I am part of
everything.
The test is like a scientific
approach that reveals its frequent
discoveries. However, my intuition
confirms, without parameters at hand
that I am not this floating body, or
these fake masks that only satisfy
human desires.
I perfect my goals with the ink of
pseudo intellectualism, on paper
they remain inscribed.
A flutter of obstinacy, whims,
presumptions, vanity like the glass
of a goblet, they disintegrate.
Among the yeses and nos, my thoughts
dart about a culture installed in my
brain about an ego perched on a
throne on the familiar byway and
about and internal voice, bursting
into the emptiness.
I resist a change,
Yes, of the theatrical role of life,
I tell myself at he same time,
without hesitation, perhaps, is our
existence so poor that it has
defined notes.
These are the absurd thoughts, of my
intellect stressed with concepts
that similar to the hum of notes are
repeated in my academic discourses:
Creativity! Ingenuity! These are
armed with snags.
However, I peer at my image again in
the mirror and I pause a long my
eyes, I admire the rarity of nature
that has given me two doors
connected to the external, and even
one more to the eternal.
I can�t resign my self to the absurd
material world where the parade of
fashion ins deceptively consecrated
or the comedy of dancers with
tattoos that search for peace,
taking advantage of the dark side of
commercial barbarism.
My yearning returns to my iris, to
my hand, to my mind,
To energy, to movement, to
everything,
where de body is unfolded in the
cosmos penetrating,
receiving the totality from the
minimum substance of who we are.
My face is happy being the mirror,
Displaying a hop for life
The road replies without turning
back,
Before the majestic light of this my
third eye.
A New Song
I repeated over and over, for many
years, the melody of Julio Iglesias
that penetrated my bones and I
wanted to be part of the tune, when
I heard it, I confused my misery, my
sadness, my exhaustion, my
rebelliousness. But well, I believed
it gave emotion to my life. I
couldn�t find the way to shake off
the memory. I felt as if the song
was sculpting my mortal confinement.
How can I continue with the torture
of a miserable song and create dark
resonance from my life? How can so
many years elapse and I am nothing
more than a fly, without wings,
waiting for the fictions image of
this memory to appear. And I would
tell my self, �Come on when are we
going to share the laughter?�
The ego is a terrible mystery, and
with disguises I am converted into a
marionette of thought, bogged down
in the comic books of my opulent
mixed heritage, my color, and my
cowardice to leave my own burial.
I am hidden behind the glasses of
fame. I hurriedly reject my I latent
intimacy; I review my labels of
fashion, consulting cosmetologists,
to tug my hanging skin. I expose my
body, my skin, my wrinkles to
subjects who don�t even share even a
speck of universal love.
I visualize my arrival to these
bizarre places. When I enter,
immediately the utilitarian symbol
that unites the hemispheres is
stamped on their faces: Yes, $$$.
Maybe you don�t recall, but even in
your dreams, you idolize it. But,
let�s continue with the consolation.
The eyes of these crows shine with
avarice, contemplating how much
money they will take, persuading me
with sweet phrases. With hollow
resonance, they shake my esteem, my
value, my self confidence and �my
money.
How could my mind not notice the
indomitable fraudulent world? This
frenetic world of exotic make-up
lines and, transformations of
wrinkles, stretching tugs of skin
that transfigure our childhood
smiles that always accompany us.
We have constructed an unhinged
world I humbly ask pardon for those
who can survive this chaotic
creation of unbalance. Give
permission to the eternal light of
wisdom to shine without return, with
profound vibration on the state of
true consciousness.
Vibrate; pray; define yourself like
a complete being in harmony. Shake
off the cobwebs of your memory, of
your songs, of the world that we
have grotesquely sketched with
divisive lines, with strong biases,
with stigmas, with songs that circle
the globe, offering bitterness,
uncertainty and hopelessness.
Revenge the fragile, hardened minds
that seize ingenuity and negate
without scruples, ridiculing all
that is related to beauty.
Surely the world would be different
if we took small pauses that
connected us to our existence,
pauses, pauses, pauses that
transport us to the serenity of our
existence.
Act already, well, yes, it�s
alright; repeat the melody, Now,
Linger; listen to it with a
benevolent heart, with your
transcendent spirit, with your
generous love.
Have you found a trace of it? No! I
know. Because in the inevitable
flowing of your intelligence, you
will realize that the magic of your
life is placed in that underplayed
immensity. Life, once conquered,
will bring new songs that will
illuminate your consciousness. It
will fortify the unity of hearts, in
the immeasurable harmonious balance
of this life, and all lives,
recreating the existence and all
lives, recreating the existence and
harmonizing in melodies like this
one:
♫
I have sketched a road that leads to
yours
Without stepping on your liberty
We touch, shoulder to shoulder
Without invading your dreams
We give each other strong energy
We feel each others� emotions, we
look at each other
And you see your lovely image
through my eyes.
Your pupils are beautiful when seen
through mine
Delicate hands soften my actions
Melodious songs harmonize our hearts
Your goodness radiates my presence
in everything.
Your hands have touched my spine
And you have given tranquility to my
delirium
You have accepted my random journey
And with a loving spirit your, have
helped me
Sketching the road that leads to
brotherhood
Without returning back.
I have painted my steps in life,
firm and sure
With my hand resting on you
shoulder,
With the benediction of your loving
spirit
That circles in the dance of the
cosmos.
♫
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