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.