No matter how many instruments man invents across the ages, to measure, define or organize time, the world will never be defined by time or by time’s keepers for that matter. Instead it will always be ruled by all of the things that exist outside of it… immeasurable substances, that do not follow earthly rules, or respond to “dimensional” dictums, but rather to the other invisible systems that co-exist with this material world. These things live, not in clocks and broken logics…. but somewhere both far and close… both in the heart and in the vastness of the universe….giving life to our cells, granting sparkles to the stars and always making sure that what survives of this life is not the bones or ashes, but the fluttering essence of all that is worth saving……. love.
‘’ Some people come, some people go. Some come to teach you how to love, others to teach you how to let go… Some things burn to ashes, before they have even begun, others are built, day by day, slowly and patiently. It’s beautiful… this ever revolving push and pull of life, isn’t it? This not knowing, which is which? Maybe the destruction is a construction… and the things we think we are building, slowly, are the ones that are burning after all. Maybe it’s all exactly the same thing. ‘’
- From my notes.
We break, we laugh and we keep going,
It is the heart of the wanderer,
The soul of the free,
To search and to never stop trusting,
The inner fire that keeps propelling,
Ruthlessly and instinctively, as sure as the day.
As steady as the halo of the moon,
Long after we travel into ourselves,
We find what we have been looking for,
Was inside this shimmering spirit all along,
But still we keep on, becoming the
Queens and Kings we are meant to always be.
Maybe unicorns and rainbows always do go together. Maybe life is always a series of maybes… maybe there are no great timings at all. Maybe we make our own timings and we just have to trust that everything will be ok. That our hearts are stronger, that our souls are wiser, and that our minds will be silenced enough for us to really live. And maybe just maybe, that is more than enough.
In High Palaces voices sing,
Through invisible distances
Of lost times and broken stones,
Listen! Listen to the lullabies.
They are angels of others,
Way down in the depths of the self,
In vast alleys of the great unknown
Grown fast, deep and wide,
Stretch out to the open sky.
Let the roots sink and the wings fly.
Become a flower that shines,
A bird that is endlessly gliding,
A spirit that forever loves.
Go down darling, deep down.
Listen to the songs that come.
Be ready to sacrifice yourself,
And what is yours will come to you
As it has always been.
Let your own voice laugh in the shadows,
Be ready to cry in your little heart,
And what has been will become.
Once again, as designed, as promised,
As it is meant to be.
We are not only intellectual beings, whose lives are dictated by mind and reason. Kant was wrong. He was so wrong: pure judgment does not describe us or define us. We are emotional bodies, filled with beating hearts, full of emotions and wonder. We are souls, living in these temporary vessels we call bodies. To grow is not to develop reason, but to engage in the growth of our own consciousness. Only in that way, do we become closer to our hearts and to our souls. Only in that way, do we begin to wander back home.