Cuentos para Kati XVII

I see you came back today with your clothes all wet, upset and angry at everything, are you upset with me as well? I am still happy that you are here with me, I could have get wet with you, run under the rain, but maybe just next time.  I see you are upset, I really don't know why, I don't even know where you go when you leave our home but I am happy to see you again.

I see you came back today, with your face all wet, I have see you like that before, that day he was here with us, he said something, I didn't understand what but then your face was wet. Why are you sad? Maybe you can talk to me, though I am not sure I will understand, but I can lick your hand, would that make you happy? I am happy you are here with me, I just want you to be happy too.

I see you came back today and you closed your door, are you upset with me? I try to talk and ask, but I ended up just making noises you don't understand. I just want you to open the door, Are you not hungry? I can't wait that long without food. I can bring you some maybe, but you said I can't open the fridge again, last time you didn't like the food I left on the floor but I wanted to share it with you, I didn't eat it all. Please open the door.

I see you left home today in a hurry, you didn't have your breakfast, it looks so tasty, can I have it? Would you get upset if I take it? You didn't say good bye to me, I miss the "good boy I will see you tonight" but it is OK, maybe you will say it tonight. I don't care anyway, I will just wait by the door.

I see you didn't come back today, the moon is here but you are not, where are you? The neighbor came and said something but I didn't understand, I think he is upset because I was calling you out loud, but I guess he just heard weird noises. Where are you? I miss you. I will keep waiting by the door. 

The cat asked me, how many days are you going to stay by the door slave? So I just said, I love her, I will always wait.

Cuentos para Kati XVI

I have to tell you this my friend, before I forget. Please let me say it and don't interrupt me, it is important. In a few seconds, I won't remember, my memory will fail again. 

God

I have to tell you this my friend, before I forget. Please let me say it and don't interrupt me, it is important. In a few seconds, I won't remember, my memory will fail again, but this is not in my memory, this is in my soul.

Do you know how many times you have repeated the same sentence? Please just tell me ...

I have to tell you this my friend, before I forget ..

Stop please

and don't interrupt me, it is important. In a few seconds, I won't remember, 

Stop it please, what is what you want to tell me?

I try my friend, some part of me remembers, some times, rarely actually, and I know I have to tell you this quickly but I am actually saying it, and you don't understand it.

What don't I understand?

I forget everything

Yes I noticed 

but I learnt something precious from it, from forgetting. Your present might last longer than mine, mine lasts a few seconds, yours maybe a bit more, but you also have to forget and in the future repeat.

Repeat? 

I have to tell you this my friend, before I forget. Please let me say it and don't interrupt me, it is important.

Repeat ? 

Yes, yes, just as I have been repeating. Do the same, do the same you do in the present, the same you do in the present, when you realize there is no past nor future, the same you do in the present, when you accept yourself as you are, when you don't resent what you think, what you have done, when you accept yourself not because of what you want to be, what you wish to be, what you wish to have or to live, but when you accept yourself because of what you are, with the good and the bad, with the fails and the successes, then repeat, repeat the same in your next present. It is a present you know ..

I have to tell you this my friend, before I forget ....

Cuentos para Kati XV

Why do we have to go mama? It is just a bit chilly, I don't want to go, the worms are so tasty in here plus we could end up eaten if we don't chose properly a place to rest. And it is so far, my uncle told me he got so tired once that he just wanted to land, but the leader of his cluster did not allow it.

My little treasure, soon there will not be enough food for all of us and when we come back you will find a wife and give me grandchildren. We will rest many times, don't worry, change is necessary plus the big fellows will cheer upon our arrival welcoming the season of flowers and beauty. 

But mama, I am so comfortable here, maybe I could stay by myself and you can stay with me, yes, let's stay together, you and I mama. With all of them gone, there will be plenty of food for both of us and we can find a place to warm us up. Father didn't make it. Do you remember? If you both would have stayed, he will be with us now. 

My little treasure, I know you are afraid but why? Everything that was created will pass, there is nothing to fear, your father and I loved each other every moment we shared, I do miss him but that is life, passing, changing.  Our love will live forever, because every moment was filled with it.

But mama, it is so far and so demanding, my small wings will get so tired and sometimes we won't find food either, it is so far, what happen if you don't survive or neither do I?. And then after, few months ahead, we have to go again, to come back here or somewhere else, start again, again and again,  the same, all our lives, I want to stay, to live comfortably and you cannot go and leave me, you have to stay too, I won't go, I won't change.

My little treasure, when I was young, I thought that someday we will find a place to rest for ever, a place where everything will be peaceful, colorful and full with love. We were told that, every one dreamt the same, hope for the same and everyone eventually realized there is no such place, no place to rest for ever, only after life has fled, that is what the wise birds said, but they cannot really know. I was sad when I figured it out, when I saw that in no time, we have to move again, we have to keep dancing with the wheel of time, but your father once told me; he said, dear love, there is only the present, thinking about what was or what will be, makes no sense, we are here and now and that is the only thing that exist, accept change my little treasure, accept it, don't think about it.

No mama, I won't change, I will stay, change is not good, I am good here, there will be food for me and for you too.

My little treasure, We all are one, but each of us is free to do as desired, it is your decision, your responsibility,  your call. You are right, change is not good but change is neither bad, change is, as it is, without labels, change is a constant, perhaps the only one of two constants. Out of those two, none can't be stopped, both can be decided, and the other is the only one that can't change.

What is the other constant mama?

The other constant my little treasure is that I love you, and no matter what you decide, I will always love you. 

Cuentos para Kati XIV

You look at me and wonder, how can I be as I am?, how can I look, the way I look?, why do I look like that? You are certain you should be afraid, you should stay awake, you should stay afar. 

You look at me and wonder if you would survive, if you were to be my friend, if you were to be by my side. You heard I am fast as you are, if you are by my side ,you should slowly move afar, followed by my gentle hiss or  maybe poke at my eyes hoping my jaw wouldn't close at 13 tonnes per square inch. 

The little boy's parents had experience, they heard stories, survivors claiming to know, to understand and all in unison screaming, you better run, but the boy was careless, innocent and rebellious. As the light melted with the passing hours, he decided to escape from his mother's constant watch and his father's advice. What would you say should it happen? Would I lie silently underwater? Observing, peacefully moving, with undisturbed attention and discipline? 

The little boy did not hear the stories, other than from his parents mouths, do you really need to put your finger in the fire? Shouldn't you respect history, other than your own story? Are men doomed, when the past is not acknowledged?  

He did not fear the tough skin, nor the speed or the portrayed cruelty, he did hear the technique but his little fingers could not possibly stop me if I were to decide to strike, if I were to be hungry, if I were not, by my son's side. Should a monster always be a monster? Should violence always win? Well, it certainly does, many times, but not as many times, as it does not. Noise is its only trick, when attachment has decided to let go.

As I heard his mother's screams and the angry look, in his father eyes, gazing upon me, I wonder the reason of their rush, the reason of their agitation. I am not very familiar with fear but what you perceive as violence might be only necessity. But even in necessity, there is always something greater, you know what it is, the same feeling that makes you run, not the times you do it for yourself, but those rare ones you forget you can recognize yourself.  

Are you not scared? His father asked him. Why would you escape from us? Did his mother. The little boy smiled at them and said, history does repeat itself, over and over, but some times, it simply can't, some times love wins. 

As I play with my son, spoiling him in the same way you do, fearing for him more that I would ever do for myself, I realized of something, something you tend to forget, nobody is the same all the time and even monsters melt to the touch of love.

 

Cuentos para Kati XIII

Do you know who am I? If you see me walking by your side, on a rainy day, can you spot me at once? If I say hello to you on a sunny day, would you quickly realize my name?

I have many faces, many shades, but only one name. Most of them came as a result of necessity, adaptation you may call it, evolution perhaps. I wonder which one was the first, which one I was born with. After a while, it is difficult to walk by a mirror and recognizing myself. Hear my voice and claim it my own or simply having a mental picture of what am I, of who am I.

But I am still, I am myself, the way I look resembles the environment, though ultimately I could decide not to, perhaps at the expense of finding myself lost, hurt or to irrevocably die. Will that matter though? If I were to die, will I still be myself?

I have many faces, many colors shaping my fate, which one is me? Which color can I claim to be mine? Which face can I introduce if I want to be loved, if I want to be remembered? If I adapt, I am one more, one more subscribing to the idea of comfort, if i don't adapt, I am one more, though of a much smaller group, one more accepting to lose everything I have been told it matters.

I have many faces, many colors, many shades. Most of the time, I do it to survive, or to be accepted, ultimately to be loved, to keep receiving love's better gift, life. But sometimes, It makes me sad not to know who am I or how to describe properly the idea of myself. I still have the same name, but that was given to me, is it really who am I ? You may call me by my name, even if you don't see me, and even if I don't reply, I still know you are calling for me so I wonder if the answer is that?

I have many faces but I can chose to reply or not if you call my name, since sometimes you can't see me, maybe you wouldn't be offended if I don't reply and if I can decide to respond, maybe I can decide which one am I, which face, which color, which shape, which shade. It is the same with you, it is not? You are not the same you were when you were born, you are not the same you were today, nor tomorrow but you have the same name, so who am I? Who are you?

I have many faces but none of them is who am I, I simply am, I am simply what I decide to be today.

Cuentos para Kati XII

The little boy asked her mother, what are these feelings? my heart pumps faster than ever, faster that when we hunt, faster that when we fear the cold on the days to come, but I feel warm when her eyes cross mine, when I catch her sweet scent from afar.

Oh my sweet boy, I fear for you, the same destiny your father's love brought, his love for me, his love for you. During nine weeks he held you close, so you could rise but the winter was too hard on him. His heart also pumped hard for me, same as did mine, our love brought you home but your father never returned.

The little girl asked her mother, what are these feelings? My heart pumps faster than ever, when I know he sees me from afar, when his smile lights up the strong fog, the winds echoing from afar the poetry of his love, when i know our love will warm us up in the cold days to come.

Oh my sweet girl, I fear for you, the sadness of losing your love, of having it for a second just to let it go. Her husband never returned, his father, the one of that you love. 

My father did, did he not? 

Yes, the winter was merciful but many times it was not, how can you know the one you love will return? And what if he don't, where will your heart go?

What should we do my love? I don't want you to go and never return. What should we do my love? I want to be with you. Will the winter be kind, will fate let me come back to you? 

What would you do? Love is not spoiled but sometimes lets you live, sometimes lets you go, but sometimes not, but one thing is for sure, it will always demand a sacrifice. 

Cuentos para Kati XI

We cheer upon your arrival and of that who opens the door for you, for your mother, the sacred vessel carrying you for 22 moons, feeding you with love and illusions. We cheer upon your arrival, upon the first time you open your eyes, surrounding the door with our protection, trumpeting at your triumph, at her triumph, at the end and the beginning.

The young mother questioned father's motives, his inspiration, his reasons to act in such a way, his reasons to force himself on her. The young mother questioned the lack of love, the violence and the fear of seeing father's face on that she might feel obliged to love, trapped in confusion, between resentment and love, force to protect the eternity of such an act, force the love of your life were to become as his father.

The young mother questioned the beauty of the one growing inside her, the health and the creature's future, in a world consumed in sadness, in a world possessed by violence, in a world where ivory taken with hate, leads to beautiful music, corrupted by its origins, by transcending humanity's ears from its violent oblivion. The young mother questioned the creature's future in a world poaching for tusks, in a world empty at compassion, in a world choking at omission, in a world excited at fashion.

The young mother questioned her passing beauty, her expiring charm, wondering, gambling the feeling of desire coming from mates against a life of commitment, gambling her dreams in favor of those of an unborn creature. The young mother questioned herself, her capacity of giving blind love, uncompromising love, free love to a little dot, arguably alive, ready to shake her entire foundations. 

The young mothers feared, the young mothers questioned, the young mothers asked, asked the old mother, why bringing another creature to this world, to this world, as it is, as it seems to be, as it will probably keep being, violent and sad and at the price of losing everything?

The old mother answered, because of love, because love demands everything but asks for nothing, because love has won already, because love is quiet, because love is silence, because love is all and because life is love, there is no logic on it, there is no reason on it, there is nothing on it, nothing that can be thought, nothing that can be calculated, nothing that can be presumed, nothing that can be explained, love is love, love is the decision of love. 

We cheer upon your arrival and of that who opens the door for you, we cheer at the face of violence, we cheer at the fear of discomfort we cheer at the fear of losing all that you blindly believe you are, we cheer because life, because life as it is, as it has been, as it will be, whatever it is, whatever it was, whatever it will be, whatever, life comes only from love. 

Cuentos para Kati X

The little bird found himself caught in the mirror, attempting to see his whole face, but his eyes are not made to look ahead, his eyes are not made to see straight, his eyes are not made to give themselves a name, his eyes are made to have faith.

As the flock drank water and searched for provisions, the little bird kept trying to see his face, though he could only see half of it, but with plenty of time, you can end up believing you are one, with plenty of time, you can end up believing you are alone. With plenty of time, you can end up believing you are two, the left and the right, the bad and the good one.

He did not hear the call, the dots aiming at joining, the whistling wind and the choreography starting. Absorbed and aching to define himself, he thought of going deep into the water, hoping to have mirrors at every possible angle and at the same time, but his eyes are not made to see straight, his eyes are made to have faith.

Confused, desperate and without air, he remembered all those days, flying, feeling the wind, looking only at those by his side, following and leading the dance, without himself, without a name, just flowing with faith. He remembered the gentle touch of wings and the sweet warmness of feeling part of something greater than himself, greater than any of them.

As the black became deeper, the mirrors melted in the peaceful waves, same as in the air, when he became one with his friends, with his mates, with the wind and the air. When his friend pulled him from the water, the tears in his eyes, reminded him all those days, when he had faith in those around, when he didn't worry about himself, when he didn't need to define himself. 

By the shore of the lake, the little bird saw the flock waiting for him, waiting for one of them and realized that his eyes were not made to see straight, but to have faith in those around. Every dot might need to define itself, maybe many times, but the flock is always there to remind us that we are one, even if we seem as many.

Cuentos para Kati IX

I look into your eyes and I wonder, what do you see in mine, do you see mine?  I am afraid, I do not understand, I have to survive, but I am slow to anger, as we all are, those that came from the original mind.  

I am afraid, I do not understand, why do you hurt me? you do not look at my eyes, you are blind by the roar of the crowd, by the gold in your dress, by the edge of your sword, by the speed of your arm. 

I am afraid, I do not understand, why do you make me run? Why do you make me forget, in the red reflecting in my eyes, that you are playing with me, that your sword will not stop, until the red is clearly by my sight?

I am afraid, I do not understand, why don’t you press hard? end my fear, end my life. I am afraid, I do not understand, why do they cheer at a crime? 

I am excited, I do not understand, why do you run? why don’t you stop? Are you blind? The red will not hurt you. I am excited, I do not understand, don’t you know what you are? why don’t you aim at my heart? 

I am excited, I do not understand, such a moment, I looked into your eyes, are you afraid? Do you want to protect your life? Why are you slow to anger, has the original mind accepted your scars?

I am afraid, I do not understand, you have looked into my eyes, why don’t you stop this crime? And you, cheering with a smile, have you looked into my eyes?

I am afraid, I do not understand, what am I doing? I am afraid, I do not understand, I now see your eyes, are they really different from mine? 

I am afraid, I do not understand, why compassion did not stand, on such other times, when my blade crossed those hearts? 

I am not afraid, I do understand, you are a brother of mine, I can’t look into nobody’s eyes, without knowing that I come also from the original mind. 

Cuentos para Kati VIII

I grew up with spines but I was told that my great-grandparents did not have them, they grew up in a different place, a fertile place filled with green and blue, a place filled with beauty, a non-denying place, a place where all dreams come truth, a place where everybody treat them with care. They did not need spines; they did not need to protect themselves. The place I live, is little on mercy, everybody has left, they could not stand the heat, the pressure, they could not stand the scarcity. 

I grew up with spines, so I could survive, I have to hide that, that that makes me live, that, that makes me alive. I did not leave the scarcity behind, I decided to stay and live with my spines.

The first time I saw her, I thought she was the most beautiful, the sweetest, she has the most beautiful spines. I could not avoid to talk to her, to compliment her, to feel her close, but she does not listen, she sees beyond my words, thinking that I have other intentions. It is her spines I know, she wants to protect that, that that makes her live, that, that makes her alive. 

As days pass, I can see her spines fading away, I can see her falling to the spell of love and the touch of weak knees, of a sweet kiss, of a passing eternal hug. 

As days pass, I can see the falling of her spines and that, that that makes her alive falling from herself, as it does from the sky. Am I ready to see her pass? Am I ready myself to pass? 

I grew up with spines so I could survive, I can see her passing, but can I leave my spines behind? Am I ready to pass? She looks at me and tells me, I want you to live, I want you to keep your spines so you can survive. I want you to live a long life. 

Am I going to pass? Not today or tonight, but tomorrow? Or the day after, or the day after? I am going to pass and so will my spines, but that, that that makes me alive is going to survive because I will leave my spines behind so we can hug with nothing in between, other than that, that that makes us alive. 

Cuentos para Kati VII

The mare was born in a common place, one without intrigue and without apparent exceptional sight, those peaceful lands, often desired by the tired, always discouraged by the eager. She never met her parents and nobody explained her where were they, if they left or they fled, if they exist or not. She was one of a kind, like no other mare, like no other stallion, but just the same as any of them, just the same as any of us, wishing for love, dreaming of love, melting at love. 

She felt lonely all her life, wishing to be the same, exactly the same, without "that", that making her look different, making her look unusual, that unavoidable and unmistakable truth, that, that you cannot ignore, that you cannot pretend, that, that dissolves every doubt. But she did not see it, she did not hear it, she did not feel it, the words of comfort, the words of wisdom, she did not hear her voice, her own voice, the inner voice who knows it all.

She grew up wishing, wishing to be accepted, to be embraced. Is it that hard? It is that hard to believe that the only truth is in perfection, in absolute undeniable love? She grew up wishing, wishing to be logical, to be normal. But nobody managed to look at her, nobody managed to accept her, as she is, as she stands, as she sees, clear and direct, pointing at you, but never judging you, loving you even if you do not love her back, always, eternal, unchanging, uncompromising and victorious.

That rainy day, she felt lonelier than ever, all her mates moved away, one by one disappeared, left the lands of the living, so as their children and the children of their children, one after the other. She walked her lands and the ones aside and the ones far beyond and saw time passed by, like drops falling into a broken cup, never changing herself, never getting old as all their pale mates faded away.

As she walked under the rain, a little drop touched the tip of her head, the tip of her unusual head and as it slid through her face and felt to the ground, she saw her reflection in the clear pond. As she stared in herself, she understood why everybody ignored her, why everybody couldn’t reflect on her, she understood her real self, every lie find itself trapped eventually, nothing untruthful can last forever, only the truth will live eternally and the only truth is love, love incapable of stopping, love that cannot fade, love pointing at you, telling you that you are loved, that you are not judged and that there is nothing you can do or don’t that would make love stop loving you.

Aside her reflection, she heard the little voice in the last drop, the last drop telling her, you are not alone, you dear truth, you dear love, you dear unicorn, because I will always walk with you, I will always stay by you, with you, on you, outside and inside you, oh dear Love. The great mare never walked alone again, magic is her companion, magic always walks by her hand, because the only real magic is in the Truth, the only real magic is love. 

Cuentos para Kati VI

Everything looks the same. It is a rainy day, one when light has chosen to be shy, I feel the cold breeze and the drops touching my steel body and my slippery wheels. The little girl is running, she seems agitated, the rain melted her makeup and her smile is absent today.

Everything looks the same. The couple walk slowly, with confidence, holding hands, smiling at each other. The world is absent to them, their love pervades everything. She smiles while he touches her hair. His passion finds confusion its never ending companionship.

Everything looks the same. The old man arrived early. I can see him from afar, silent, careful, peacefully waiting, patiently observing. Only my scream defies his otherwise unconscious  attention.

Everything looks the same. The path I follow never gets disturbed, sometimes delayed but I always see the little girl, the lovers and the old man, sometimes in different places, or different moments. Sometimes she doesn't look the same, sometimes she is smiling, sometimes he is not, sometimes age is not patient, sometimes love is not there. But it looks the same, just not the same passengers, even when they are the same.

Everything looks the same, is it not? I have asked other trains, isn't there always a little girl, isn't there  always an old man? Does not their warm embracing melt your cold chairs? We do recall the little girl, we do recall their hugging shade, we do recall his patient stare. Are we the same train then? 

Everything looks the same, but for them is never the same, for them every day they changed themselves, but for us it is always the same, if you move enough, everyday, there is always a running girl, there is always a patient man and of course love is everywhere.

Cuentos para Kati V

The little kitty wanted to see the world, experience new moments, meet new people, live the fast life, far from those she hold closely, far from the traditions and the old ways, far from the routine of a peaceful place. She knew it would only last the term of a dream, the term of a suspire, one to be taken deeply.

The port looked beautiful, dynamic, blessed by green and blue, blessed by music. The fast motion and the passing of time taught her many lessons, but only two worth remember for ever. The first one was that sometimes, when time is not enough, build something of worth results very difficult, any port in the planet has seen many good byes, sometimes only after saying hello. The second lesson is only for her to find out, at the proper time.

The lion found the kitty cat very interesting, mysterious and beautiful. He felt unsettled by her sharp questioning, the sweet innocent look hiding the keenest of the minds. He knew she was to split his life and their friendship was something that endured her first lesson, nobody can really know why she did not let him go, that is something that will always remain as a mystery, perhaps even for the kitty cat.

The sweet Christmas lights and the Paint in Black caressed the lion's head upon the kitty's lap. The gelato and the flying dots aching for light showed her that for some moments it is worth being illogical. The canals shone with the moon and the stars in such other night, the old sinking friend, embracing lovers at all times, found the lion and the kitty immerse in seduction while the white room in the fashion city heard the sweet voice and the big eyes, saying for the first time, I love you.

Holding hands all the time, the kitty and the lion woke up and the dahlias framed them in her peaceful place, one to be walked barefoot within the sight of ducks merging with the train whistles. A big new room to be shared and the pictures, the one from the artist and those never to be shown, hold them together.

Once more time the lion and the kitty will meet in the port, but now they are more that friends, now they are more, now the port has to learn, that sometimes, even when time is not enough, even when distance is too much, still things matter.

Cuentos para Kati IV

I can't see as you see, I don't distinguish the fascinating shades that form when light passes through materials but I do see it coming from the sky. I can't see you if  you do not move, but I do recognize you, the subtle scent you emit, the lite breeze that walks with you as you walk. It is difficult for me to have friends because they want to chill and I keep asking them to move around.

I can't see as you see, my eyes never came, I ordered them online but the vendor says I do not have the appropriate port. I complained with the quality of service and he just hanged off. I can't see as you see but I can feel you getting close, I can feel the subtle moves of Earth. It is difficult for me to have friends because I keep crashing with them, I apologized with the mole but he kept saying please keep moving. I do not know what he means.   

I can't see as you see, everything moves fast, all of you and sometimes I think there is only one of you, you all look the same very often. My eyes are a many-core GPU, but like those, each eye does not have much precision though it is kinda cool, cause it is like I am high all the time. It is difficult for me to have friends because it is complicated to see which one is actually you, but it is funny seeing the mole keep asking the worm to move while he keeps crashing against him.

I can't see as you see but sometimes is cold and sometimes is warm, that is how I figure it is time to wake up or time to go to sleep. The soft currents carry me, it is exciting I must say because sometimes I eat things that I don't want but when I do, oh boy, it is nice. I guess it is not so good to have all what you want all the time. But it is difficult for me to have friends. I invited them once to come to the shore but I didn't get on time, the soft breezes carried me some place else and the second time, I arrived early but the worm never came, the mole came but he kept asking me to move and if I move the current will take me away and the fly was just all high asking which one are you?

We can't see as you see, but does it mean we don't see? The worm and the fish see nothing, the mole only sees black and white and the fly sees too much. We can't see as you see but we might feel better than you because we can feel the Earth speaking, the light melting and the water caressing us and now that we have finally met, all of us, we have some question for you, are we and you not looking at the same thing? We don't see as you see, but we do look at the same that you are looking, for each of us it looks different but it is still the same, is it not? We can't see as you see but does it mean you are actually seeing?

Cuentos para Kati III

Apollo smiled at the boy walking fast over the long street, walking like if the crowd did not exist, nervous and holding the red rose like priceless porcelain, trying on breathing slowly only to fail, when her face arose from the corner, failing gracefully, like the monitor that skips a heartbeat, failing like the sea that crashes the hot beach, all at once, all in a timeless sight, at her precious smile.

Samson smiled the first time and the second and will smile at the last, at those times their kiss melted the ice, at those times she held his hand, at those times he wiped her tears, at all of those times and at that timeless time they were two, one and three.

Aelius smiled at her first smile and the first time she clapped while the two cheered the first crawl, the first time she stood up and asked, what is that?, that shiny star. The two told the third, that is your friend, you can ask anything, anything you want and he will always reply. Dear star, why don't you always smile? 

Every day I smile, Ishan said, but sometimes you cannot see it, sometimes the little blue dot do not want my smile, sometimes your eyes are closed and sometimes my lady reflects on me so to give you my smile. Do you really always smile? she replied. The two do not clap at my walk anymore cause it has been a while since the first times, I do not play at the yard no more cause now I walk fast, I am a lady now and my eyes are not blind, why would you smile, all the time? 

Sometimes I want to cry, Ra said. On those days the unfair red could only be washed by tears from the sky, I want to cry. Sometimes I want to cry, on those days there was no more green, no more life, no more kind. At those days, I want to cry. I want to cry when you make yourselves cry. I want to cry when the little blue dot cannot smile, I want to cry when you, yourselves do not smile at me. Oh, there are so many times I want to cry, but I always choose to smile, always to smile, because that is what I am, I am the smiley star. 

And why you simply don't cry? Why do you chose to smile when you feel to cry? Everything is as it must be, is it not? Oh shiny star, why don't you stop smiling and there will be no more to cry, no more to stand, no more to shine at? Everything is as it must be, dear friend, Surya said, you are right but I will never stop smiling at you, at all of you, I will have a different shape, a different name from all of those I already have, maybe you won't call the little blue dot home anymore, but I will always smile over you, you who talk to me and those who do not, I will always smile, even if you don't see me, even at nights, I will always smile at you, at all of you, at those that never smile, at those that never cry. I will always smile at your tears and at your smile. Everything is as it is, I will smile because I am, because I am a smile and because a smile is all you need so you to stop the cry.

Cuentos para Kati II

The smart and pretty koala, was marveled by the colors of the leaves, so many flavors, so many options, so much delights. The lite green gave her a sweet refreshing dessert, on those long and boring afternoons.  The dark green, the stronger she felt, oh the sweet energy. And there was those unusual greens, only to be found when the hit start dropping slowly. Oh, those unusual greens, so tasty, like a good nice сметана в банке.

Green everywhere, every day, all her life, only challenged by the blue, that in the water or the sky. Why is there water, both on the ground and on the sky? She used to ask, on her 15 min a day gathering by the river. Why can I touch this one nearby? but the one in the sky, I can only feel when falls on occasion. Why the water stays there, all the time? Why it doesn't move like the one in the river? Oh, i want to try it, will it taste differently?. 15 minutes is not enough, for a philosophical discussion such as that, but that is all you got until tomorrow.

It was paradise, every day, from the first time she opened her eyes till today, till this beautiful day, sunny, warm and comforting. But those questions need to find an answer, those questions cannot endure for ever, those have to be settled. But some answers can't be found, neither on a sunny day nor on a rainy day. Some answers can't be found on the extremes, but are laying perfectly balanced at that rare moment, at that rare place, when extremes have met.

The sweet Koala kept looking up, wondering, dreaming with the taste of the sky, the bright light, the warm light, oh such a pleasant suspire she had, until that drop touch her little tail. What is this? She wonder, why water is falling on a such a bright day?

The rivers falling from the skies attempted to block the shiniest start, but the light fought back, a great fight, like only the most extremes can have.

What is this? She wonder, i have never seen such a thing, there are leaves and water on it, but what are those other five, those other five I have never seen, red, orange, yellow, indigo, violet and leaves and water. What is red? What is indigo? Why are leaves and water at the same place? Why they stayed together.

Some questions must have an answer. Oh yes, oh yes, the great war between the fierce two, the great war between those who exude confidence, those who are so sure of their selves only to find themselves being the same, cause are not light and water of the same color? Oh yes, yes they are, but when together,  over that short and spectacular hug, are not they seven?

Cuentos para Kati I

The little lizard was scared of moving ahead, she fell from the window and found herself trapped within pink-colored walls. She knew her friend was waiting for her in the garden but on a rainy winter day, all windows were closed and the only way to go to her friend was to cross, all the house, into the kitchen. There, the little door for the cat could let her go out, if she was quick enough not to be catched.

She was scared because her friend would go quickly to hide from the winter and she didn't want to stay imprisoned with all those big scary dolls and all the clothing in the floor. The first time she tried, she managed to exit the little girl's room but at the edge of the stairs, she saw her playing and talking with the cat and decided to go back to the room and hide. The cat didn't see her this time but the girl caught her on her rear eye. Her big eyes focused on her tiny tail and she got so excited that run to her room, but the lizard was faster and found herself again trapped, this time by a big-eyed teddy bear. Her hearth was jumping fast and the running-around girl and the smelling-cat terrified her, but mama called for dinner and both the girl and the cat run very fast to the kitchen. She though of following them, the nice smell of warm bread told her to be brave but fear slipped his big claws from her tail to her head.

The little lizard was caught in her head and while days passed, she thought too much of the consequences if somebody were to see her. Remembered all the cruel stories she heard from her parents about those evil felines and those torturing humans. Fear freezed her and her only wish was to see her friend again. Gathering all her strength, she jumped to the window, hoping to see her stiul hiding by the dahlia in the garden, but the snow only showed a white and chilling flower, with no little lizard on it. She thought her friend left her and her tears were only interrupted when the little girl jumped to the bed.

This time, the cat saw her. One cannot know which one is faster or which one would get tired before  but the giant girl was also fast and the scary teddy didn't help. When having those two evil enemies cornering her, she exclaimed to herself, oh dear friend I hope you have found the shelter we always dreamed, closed her eyes and hoped the giants would get tired quickly of her tiny self.

Time goes by very slowly when you are lost and when survival has faded away one discovered its true self. The first she felt was the furry hand pushed her to the wall but one can not avoid to react and with her eyes half-opened she saw her little old friend, she thought herself dreaming or already in the lands beyond life, but this time her rear eye caught the smile on the little girl. She couldn't understand what she said but you, you the one who is hearing this, do can understand when the girl said, we found your friend and you both can stay in our warm and beautiful shelter, so you see, sometimes fear only hides that you have found what you always have dreamt. 

Paths to Enlightenment

Are you quiet? Has your mind slip one more thought? Can you sit and relax? Does the observer actually affects reality? Are you on the road? Has your temper encounter frustration? Is it easy to go till the end? To give up your life?

How many paths are there to salvation, to enlightenment, to deindividualization, to unification? One seems to be quiet, the other active, perhaps only two can be observed at this moment but both seem to require a quiet mind, an active heart and a humble attitude.

There are those who can sit in front of lightness, in front of nature, within and without the world, silencing their pale idea of themselves and the intrusive enemies or temptations, hidden constantly in honorable pursuits like happiness.

There are those who can sit in front of lightness, in front of nature but only for a fraction of their existence, periodically perhaps, as the battery needing recharging, but they can not stand there longer than required. Those need to go upon the road, face the monsters covered in feathers and peacefully stab upon their slaving delusions.

Which of those are the most feared? Does the world has other solution, other than simple elimination? The observer should be first and should be absolute, the warrior is the observer strategically acting when required and to join both in a single cohesive unit, the architect facilitates transition upon both. That is a simple most basic explanation given by a human mind, trapped in ideas of duality and time-consuming existence.

Which one are you? Will you sit and contemplate? Will you do it just for a while? While you stand up and fight? Will you die fighting? Which one are you? 

History

E and D have two children, both loved and cherished, protected and respected, up to some extent. L and L love their parents and the family has one thing in common with all other families and one not very common thing, L is older than their parents and L and L do not like each other on occasion.


D is allegedly the result of a delicious yet rotten apple, philosophically perfectly valid, quite logic in fact. On the contrary, L has always been there, somehow quietly, only acting when its sibling cannot stand any more the pressure given by E or D, or sometimes both.

E is a spoiled child, always on a quest for satisfaction, for comfort and happiness, one that does not recognise inside as it always considers itself as unique as nothing, while occupying billions of vessels at the same time and at different times. E feeds D as well D spoils E and E + E is 2E according to L, but according to L, E + E is E, though D would highly disagree.

E and D love each other, but only as L has taught them. They do not understand that they can't exist if they were to love each other as L has tried to teach them. However, only L can live forever, no matter how much E and D try to survive, they can only change vessel, momentarily, while D mumbles around between one of its faces and the other. At the end, they all, except L, are slaves of T, which has been since the beginning and shall be till the end. Yet, T is a mirror, a projection of E loving D, equally deceitful, equally ignorant and ultimately equally unreal, cause only L exists, no matter how much L try to explain it cause L believes than E + E is D and don't realise that behind all fancy L and all deceitful T, only lies L.

Love & Logic

One plus one is not two. The world's oldest ruler has found it fit to spread itself to every corner of our minds. The old ruler believes itself an absolute, while its mere nature denies its eternity, denies its infinity. Extremes collide in the most beautiful moments, those that defy the logic of duality. Are hate and love so different? Are peace and chaos? Are mathematics wrong?

In a futile attempt of being actually true to our real nature, our logic was introduced with the idea of balance, such a rare outlier, in which equilibrium exists and extremes merge into unity. But how far can we take such idea?, do you recognise yourself in the mirror, do your eyes perceive those others wandering the same streets? Can you think about yourself without being yourself?  Can you get outside and inside of your own logic ? Can you bring a new one, a better and worse one? Can logic exist in a world free of all slavers? Can you be beyond duality, beyond time, beyond space, beyond individuality?

It is logical to survive, it is logical to reproduce, to find comfort, it is logical to judge, to classify, to summarise, to ignore. Isn't it always 50 / 50, isn't it always 2, isn't it always good or bad? What about perspective?, that seems to be the only new discovery, relativity, probabilistic existence and motion, the observer affecting reality.

It is not logical no, it is not logical to look at someone's eyes and see yourself as if you were not yourself, to feel yourself and themselves as one, out of those walls you have placed strategically, out of that body and that mind you claim to be yourself, inside those cells you believe to be part of you, far and close to those that you love, that you miss, far, close, inside, outside, now, before, after yourself, after themselves.

It is not logical no, it is not logical to scream in silence and to hear it in the noise, it is not logical no, to sacrifice your life in exchange of nothing, in exchange of everything. Isn't it always 50/50? Isn't it always one plus one equal to two? But that cannot be true, oh no, it cannot, because one plus one is not two, one plus one is one, just as love is, it is simply one.

Maestra de la humildad

Poner la otra mejilla, negarnos a nosotros mismos, la muerte del ego, ser mas que nuestras propias emociones, convertirse en una decisión, ser más que un hombre, más que una mujer, más que un humano, convertirse en un ideal que vive y sueña, que no puede dejar de existir aun si su envase envejece o muere. 

Poner la otra mejilla, el acto que rechaza nuestra auto proclamada grandeza humana, nuestra lógica fría y limitada. Ser capaz de ofrecer amor a cambio de nada, a cambio de odio, a cambio de dolor, hacerlo con una sonrisa, aunque las lágrimas caigan en la soledad, aunque los ojos quieren liberarse pero los labios deciden sonreír, inocentemente, sin sarcasmo, sin vanidad, sin ego. 

Negarnos a nosotros mismos, la muerte del ego, la verdadera libertad, responder con amor a la amenaza que violenta aún nuestra propia vida, poder responder inmerso en la paz, prefiero morir, toma mi vida. 

Convertirse en una decisión, en aquel niño que le duele, que está feliz, que llora, que sonríe, que está herido, que está satisfecho, que tiene miedo, que es valiente. En aquel niño que no importa lo que sienta, lo que esté experimentado, lo que sea, de dónde sea, de quien sea, en aquel niño que siempre, siempre, responde con amor, aunque la correspondiente emoción sea lo último que esté en su corazón en ese momento. 

De todo corazón, Dios, Universo, como quieras llamarle, al amor absoluto, muchas gracias, pues pusiste en mi vida a una maestra, una maestra en poner la otra mejilla, en negarse a si misma, en ser más que sus emociones, a una maestra de la humildad, madre.