Throughout the ages, candles have been polyfuncional. Before the invention of electricity, they served a purpose to illuminate homes and such.
They are used as remembrances to perpetuate eternal loves that passed away.
Hardly anybody knows that they are also heal body and soul. I’m not talking about prayers while candles are lit or beautifully adorned cathedrals exclusively…
But rather healing candles that dwell in the catacombs of unknown dimensions…
Upcoming stories reflect such anecdotes… some of them are tales of healing love, while others are fables of soothing portals through eternity… and others are…well…frightening, chilling, and romantic perpetual smirks…
Very perpetual…
CORNUCOPIA
I am an average man with extraordinary dreams and goals.
I search for meaning in life, not only my own’s but others’ as well. I believe that human growth must pass the threshold, the ordinary, the basic, the “everybody does it this way” kind of mentality. Most of us live just exerting our basic instinct needs, like vegetables…with no meaningful purposes, we just live and breathe every day. And many of us live like there is nobody else in the environment, except ourselves.
I have stopped cold on my own tracks myself; and, by the way, I believe that growth begins from within, and my vision of my surroundings is nothing else but a reflection of my own essence. I must begin with myself before I can improve my environment. I have spent most of my life trying to fill up my essence with different ways and persons: living the American dream (a family in the suburbs with the white-picket-fence home), having a career, being economically comfortable, and my ultimate desire: a great companion, a lady, if you will, to share my life with. With the exception of a career, which I started at comfortably 59 years young in March 2022, I have not accomplished such dreams/goals. And then, I realized…
I have been behaving like my last introductory sentence reads: living for myself. I have been mostly a taker, rather than a giver, and even though I gave myself to my former family (I am divorced), I admit I have been mistaken. There is so much to do in this life, no matter how long our lifespan is since time is relative. I have met or heard of people who in three months have done more than other people in 50 years…or 59…
I looked in the mirror this Christmas morning, and I realized that I expect a lot from society, and unfortunately, this is the “victimhood” trait. Nobody owes me anything, I must make my life happen; fabricate it, if you will. I have spent a seeming eternity waiting for the rainbow to come to me, and I have realized this morning that I must go and find it. I have spent too long waiting for my dream home to build itself, and I have realized I must gather tools and build it. The clock is inexorable, unforgiving, and as they say: “you only live once” (Acronym: YOLO).
In order for me to accomplish such a feat: of building my future, I must be a mathematician working with irrational calculations. Mathematically, there is one abstract concept that when it gets divided, multiplies: LOVE. Sharing is caring, these three words summarize the whole point of my story. It feels wonderful when we share our talents/gifts/belongings with others. It is priceless, and although it is an abstract concept/feeling, it contains the most aromatic essence of humanity. I read once this wise phrase: “share with others in need your bread, for you will see that it will be tastier.” Nothing further from the truth. Once we begin giving, we will not notice diminishing our belongings, but rather we will notice a sense of purpose or meaning. This act gives inner peace, which is precisely the beginning of purpose in our lives.
Hereby I am not implying that whatever we share/give must be of great monetary value, for the best feeling of giving is when we give our most precious possessions. As with most concepts, giving/sharing is relative. To a poor child, his most prized possession could be his soccer ball, but once he gives it away or shares it with another human being, an amazing phenomenon occurs. Not only unity with the person he shared it with will form, but life will reward him with further, precious possessions, and that is when irrational mathematics happens.
Throughout my life, I waited for Santa to bring me great presents, and I expected a great companion to share my life with, but I forgot to do the irrational mathematical calculation. How about if I give on Christmas, rather than expecting gifts or miracles? There are so many lonely people out there on Christmas, and poor ones as well. How about if I become THAT person I have searched for so long?–A person that gives generously, and that brings to my mind another beautiful concept: we receive when we give. And we will take such satisfaction to the grave since nobody or nothing can take away our virtues and values.
My whole point is not a business transaction: “If you give, you will reap” but I am rather shedding light on the key to a better world: we are all part of this universe. Once we realize that the formula to a better world is to become one, we will decipher our meaning, and our purpose: Sow seeds of love everywhere. And if you planted such needs in the infertile ground (there are many ungrateful people out there), you have worked on your life purpose, regardless, and your backpack of goodies will hold much happiness for yourself and others.
What do my cover pic and “cornucopia” have to do with this concept of love/sharing? If you notice, those yellow flowers sprouted from the ground and through the cement. Such flowers did not complain that the ground above them was sturdy and made of concrete, they just sprouted, and they lived their purpose. They gave bypassers, like me, a nice view, which is a message that the cornucopia of plenty is possible: If you are determined enough and do not complain, but rather give all of yourself to others to contribute to a beautiful universe.
Give, give much, for not only you shall reap smiles, but you shall fill up your cornucopiawith your own smiles, smiles of satisfaction, of happiness, of peace.
MERRY CHRISTMAS 2022 AND A HAPPY GIVING NEW YEAR 2023
uncared-for tombstones, in which weeds creep over them?
cracked, broken ones?
blurred inscriptions?
evident forgotten ones?
In a particular cemetery dwelled a certain man whose only objective was bizarre…
perplexed grievers gazed…
“There, there…” the man mumbled as he wiped and shined the deteriorated, neglected tombstones with uncanny devotion.
As he slit off covering weeds, he hummed an unknown melody, as if he were trying to break a millenary curse that the damned spelled over such tombstones.
He shed a couple of tears when observing the cracked, broken ones since there was nothing he could do about it; then, he wiped off his tears leaving a dark mark over his face from his muddy hands. “Oh, who has forsaken you, poor souls, nobody ever visits you anymore?” He would mutter silently and weepingly…
For countless hours he would gaze at the ones with blurred inscriptions as if trying to decipher hieroglyphics. He wiped the inscriptions off with a cleaner, hoping to get a clear reading. “Who were you, and why were you expunged, tell me!” “Oh, but clearly, you were not erased from the book of life, for you live there forever, talk to me!” “I am not going to blame such effacing on erosion, but on your beloved ones who inscribed you on their books of annihilation and forgetfulness.” “Erosion does not forgive, but hearts do, where are their hearts?”
“Who forsook you, my dear child?” “Is it maybe your beloved wife who silently takes her last gasps of breath in some convalescent home, abandoned forever?” “Well, if so, let me tell you, she remembers you, even if she has dementia or amnesia, or that disorder they call Alzheimer’s.” “The brain forgets, but not the heart, how ironic, huh?” Those were his words at evident forgotten ones…”Who forsook you, my dear child?”
“Is it maybe your lovely husband?” “NO!” “He sits in a wheelchair, in a hammock, or perhaps in a rocking chair, wiping his tears and looking aimlessly as if he had hopes you would come back to him someday.” “People wave at his eyes looking for signs of life in him, but he does not respond. It is not that he is clinically dead, but rather spiritually dead. His heart stopped because yours did, and now here you lay, lifeless. But…let me tell you, he claims you, and is waiting for you to take him along your eternal journey.” Were his words at other evident forgotten ones…
“Excuse me, sir, why do you care for all these tombstones?” “You cannot be a relative of all of them, I reckon..?” A gentleman approached him one day.
The man glanced at him, then…”I need not a reason to care for these poor abandoned souls, nobody visits them anymore, and one day I thought…why not care for them?”
“You see, my dear gentleman, in this world, many souls dwell who are into themselves: a successful career, a loving family, fame…but…hardly any souls do unto others what they would like for others to do unto them…” “In this world, there is one poisonous belief: do what are you supposed to do.” “Please forgive, sir, but…what is that, exactly?” “And, evidently, caring for these abandoned, neglected tombstones is not one of those things ‘we are supposed to do.'”
“Is it what ‘we are supposed to do’ for grievers here at this cemetery to care for only their own ones?” “Why?” “Is it not helping strangers along, such as calling 911 if they are in distress what ‘we are supposed to do?'” “What is the difference, dear sir?” “Are not these neglected tombs worth of dignity and respect?” “If many tears were shed at their burials, why there are non-existent tears now?” “I reckon these souls would much rather get their tombstones cared for than those tears that were shed initially at their burial.” “If tears are expressions of souls and hearts, and love is eternal, why did such tears extinguish forever?”
The man continued to pull weeds as he hummed the usual melody, while the curious gentleman walked away, hands in his pockets, kicking a small amount of dirt on one of the tombstones, and fixing his hat as he mumbled away:
In my room so bold and bright,on the wall with gold and light,was a tree with leaves to pluck,and waved this day to spin my luck,but I said no, I’ll take a stance,and find my way through time’s expanse.
Yes, that’s right, with an exclamation mark…I let my emotions splash on these blogging pages like blood over an artist’s canvas, and that’s precisely what I am going to talk about.
I am a man who has gone through so much pain, at times is unbearable. It is true that many other people have gone through worse than I, but I am speaking for myself. And I am about to open up my heart and speak to you, my beloved reader, and to the world, I live in.
I am not talking about my physical death, although I am terrified of traveling into the unknown when my existence extinguishes forever. I mean…I have been surrounded by many enemies since I remember. It is true that “enemy” is a relative term since it can be an evil one that destroys us physically or psychologically, or it can be a state of mind, or in some instances, we ourselves are our own enemies, which brings to my mind the fact that we are actually our own enemies, but that is another story that I will mention in another blog.
Such enemies have tried to vanquish me for different reasons that many times I haven’t understood, since I am a person that does no harm to anybody, not even to my foes. Some have tried to totally destroy me, others have controlled me in different ways to the brink of my destruction. I have been brought down by them, but I have risen again from such falls, and the latest attempt from them has made me write this blog.
“I can’t take it anymore” is a popular phrase that denotes exasperation from being pushed to our limits, to our threshold, and although 90% of us who exclaim such a phrase end up back into the comfort zone and don’t do anything about it, I can assure I am doing something towards freeing myself from another crushing blow…I am determined to not be brought down AGAIN!
An old enemy has come back to bring me down, but unlike the first time, my spirit is stronger than ever. I learned a couple of things in life: that whoever attacks you, is filled with emptiness and hate. and that in order for us to be happy and succeed, we must plant roses in the gardens of our souls to repel undesirable weeds and, consequently, we attract the beautiful things life has to offer. With this in mind, I am determined to repel its attacks with confidence in a consistent manner and with my most powerful weapon: my positive, happy attitude.
I shall succeed, I shall be victorious, my enemy is not aware of my capabilities, I was a dormant giant, but the awareness and the acknowledgment of who I am, have been decisive in my success in life. What is success, in my own definition? Nothing but be as happy as I can be despite the most adverse circumstances and I am determined to have a strong mentality, one that assures abundance, and I am now releasing such a cornucopia that will sprout much love and happiness in my life.
That’s what I want, as simple as that, and that’s enough to defeat my enemy because now is my turn to be on the other side. Victimhood was in my mentality for too long…no more, Mr. successful and happy guy…
The below photo is me, at 3 years old…since then, I have never given up…I am a tireless warrior that wants to live…forever, because, as I said…
It is the essential core of humanity, even though many claim they’re not artists at all; but you see, there’s art in each and every one of us. Furthermore, art is present everywhere…art in cooking, art in crafts…and art in sports.
Oh, I love football, it’s been my passion since my childhood. I never missed every single world cup. My passion was watching players dominate the ball with such magic, and of course…art. That’s why I believe there’s art in every one of us. Ladies and gentlemen, you have no idea how I wish I’d be in Qatar witnessing next year’s world cup to contemplate the art of football in such stadiums…
But for the time being, the 2021 Qatar Art Festival is taking place, and just like I’m a huge fan of football, I’m a huge fan of art as well. I adore eternal works of art from yesteryear…DaVinci, Michelangelo, El Greco, Picasso…oh how I wish I’d be in Qatar to witness works of art from emerging and promising artists; local, and international. Katara will be bathed in talent.
Art is instilled in our hearts, in our minds. Tyrants or dictators might take away certain parts of our lives, but never the capacity, the ability to foment the art that beats in our hearts. Art lives in our hands, in our fingers, and whether we’re wealthy or impoverished, art roars from within, it’s intrinsic, essential, and allows us to express our natural talents.
I’m quite excited for this date to arrive so that the world can see what these artists are made of, and undoubtedly they’re eager to expose their beauty, their love, their passion, their natural expressions that live within.
Let art be expressed and exposed like a roaring lion, for it must be loosened to devour the world’s hearts and furthermore, awake hidden talents and dormant artists that have succumbed in forgotten fields of beautiful flowers
This term or concept has been used throughout the ages to define maximal ecstasy. As with most terms, this particular term is relative. It contains a variety of connotations…
As human beings, we seek light, joy, power…which take us to summits of our lives…or at least it seems like it when we reach such spiritual altitudes. Yes, glory is a spiritual term, and although it can be concrete; such as a trophy or medal, it denotes victory, celebration, pride, celestial bliss.
Actually, human beings never achieve maximum glory, just like knowledge, because as the Socratic Paradox says: “I only know that I know nothing,” the human spirit always pursues tirelessly seeking for innovative and more powerful forms of glory, it’s innate…it’s undoubtedly essential and basic.
But there’s a special form of glory, which very few of us have been able to discover, and it generates a simple, yet seemingly difficult question: “what is my purpose in life?”
What is life, by the way? I don’t mean in its intrinsic definition: biological or physiological, but as an abstract term: what does it mean to the individual? Another relative term, right?
Throughout my life I’ve come across people who hate their lives, they literally have told me that, I could feel their pain through their voice, and it has a correlation with the question I asked above: “what is my purpose in life?” Needless to say, such people didn’t have their purpose defined: they just eat, sleep, and work…like a vegetable, practically inert. Automatons…
If they only realized their brain has amazing capabilities to transform their lives by being able to answer such simple question….to me, it’s the greatest human tragedy, because from such fallacy all the ailments are generated.
If I wander aimlessly through my life, my body, mind, and spirit will decompose. The Greek philosopher Thales said: “sound mind in sound body.” Such a true quote. If my body is healthy, my mind will be healthy since they’re interconnected. And if I’m unaware of my purpose in life, it’s going to be very hard to love and appreciate my body which consequently will affect my mind. Nobody can give what they don’t have, and if we don’t have a purpose, we can’t share our healthy essence because, as I said, we can’t give what we don’t have. After all, most of us want to be surrounded by healthy, positive, happy people, not bitter, sour, aimless, negative ones. There’s the key. There’s the glory: to be the best we can be because we’re all connected in this marvelous, ingenious, perfect universe and if we’re ill, it creates a chain reaction with disastrous consequences. And how do we become the best we can be? by a simple element: LOVING OURSELVES, which gets developed by having the ultimate purpose in life: SOUND MIND IN SOUND BODY. Our personal glory starts and it’s rooted right there.
Such purpose shall create a beautiful chain reaction: promote, stimulate, and soothe the greater good, which will create a healthy, sound universe, a universe in which we all can delight and enjoy, because we will have created a…
Soy un hombre como cualquier otro…con una diferencia…me busco a mi mismo.
I’m a man like any other one…with a difference…I look for myself.
Me contemplo a mi mismo a traves de meditaciones y reflexiones que me llevan hacia otra dimension…un pasado lleno de aprendizaje.
I contemplate myself through meditations and reflections that take me to another dimension…a past full of learnings.
A traves del tiempo sin saberlo me auto-criticaba de una manera absurda e irracional, arrastrandome injustamente como un muneco de trapo, o acaso como una estatua sin sentimientos ni capacidad de amar. Todo esto ha sido inconscientemente…si…en mi subconciente fomentado por mentiras abstractas y absurdas.
Through time, unknowingly I criticized myself in an absurd and irrational manner, dragging myself unfairly like a raggedy doll, or perhaps like an emotionless and heartless statue. All of this has been subconsciously…yes…in my subconscious fed by absurd and abstract lies.
Ahora me contemplo en el espejo, y con amor visualizo a un hombre distinto, diferente al que ha sido promovido por monstruos…algunos llenos de odio, otros que fueron construidos por las mismas mentiras las cuales ahogan a muchos seres humanos. Me veo con amor, y acaricio mi corazon y me sostengo con fuerza escuchando mi verdad.
I now contemplate myself in the mirror, and lovingly I see a different man, different from the one who has been promoted by monsters…some full of hate, others who were created by the same lies which drown many human beings. I see myself lovingly caressing my heart and I stand strongly listening to my truth.
Lamentarme? Para que? Es un camino que no me llevaria a ningun destino, un absurdo que me acabaria gota a gota. La vida es muy corta, y si bien es cierto que ya no soy un jovencito, el tiempo es relativo, y he decidido vivir el resto de mi vida a plenitud y sin reparo alguno. Cuando me vaya no habra regreso, y entonces mi unica vereda es el camino marcado por las agujas del reloj, que implacablemente marca las horas sin dar segundas oportunidades.
Lamenting? What for? It’s a path which wouldn’t take me to any destination, an absurdity which would destroy me slowly. Life’s too short, and although I’m not a youngster anymore, time is relative, and I’ve decided to live my life plentifully and without qualms. When I leave this world there’s no coming back, and so my only path is the road marked by the clock’s hands, which strike the time mercilessly without giving second chances.
Me aprecio, me quiero a mi mismo, no en una postura narcisista, sino en un autentico carino hacia mi mismo, despues de todo, soy un ser que respira, que duele, que siente, que huele, que escucha, que saborea, que…en fin…tantas caracteristicas que definen a un ser humano…y yo lo soy. Yo valgo mucho, yo soy capaz, yo soy un hombre completo, genuino, autentico, que tengo la capacidad de amar y ser feliz. Nada me detiene, nada me sofoca, nada me apaga…solo yo mismo soy capaz de mutilar todo mi ser. Mi palabra es solo flor, solo amor…solo verdad.
I appreciate myself, I love myself, not in a narcissistic way, but rather in an authentic way; after all, I’m a being that breathes, feels, hurts, listens, savors…that…anyway…so many characteristics that define a human being. And I am one. I am worthy, I am capable, I’m a bold man, genuine, authentic, I have the capacity to love and to be happy. Nothing stops me, nothing suffocates me, nothing shuts me off…only I am capable of mutilating myself. My word is only a flower, only love…only truth.
I stand at the same station every day at five o’clock waiting for my beloved wife.
A million faces stare at me, judging me…calling me insane…
What the hell do they know?
She promised me she’d be back in April, but so far…nothing…it’s December…but I’ll never give up.
Some whisper at my ear telling me it hasn’t been eight months, but rather eight years…yes…I’ll never give up.
Anomalies occur in this God forsaken train station-homeless people who mumble incoherent, absurd phrases, unbearable odors, and seemingly normal people who are extremely rude…why do they call themselves normal? I don’t have the foggiest idea. But these absurdities don’t matter to me…I have a greater concern…to greet my beloved.
Some of them claim irrational, imbecile theories as to why it’s been eight years and she hasn’t arrived…
…Perhaps her soul departed and awaits for me in another station…in heaven.
…Maybe she ran away with another man.
NONSENSE! They just try to discourage me, but I’ll never give in to such outrageous possibilities, my love for her trespasses the threshold of anybody’s imagination, really…they just don’t know what true love is…
What the hell do they know?
I’ll wait right here as long as I can, who cares if it’s been eight, ten, or one hundred years? Who cares if my hair turns pale and my face reflects roots…some call them disrespectfully wrinkles…after all, I’ve grown roots right here, under my aching feet, but my heart feeds them…with its own dripping blood of love.
A lady, who tried to be kind to me, approached me and assured me that there are many ladies out there who’d love to be with me, but I responded that there might be a million ones out there, but my heart hopes and lives for my beloved wife…it doesn’t see any other one, and that it will wait right here until its last beat, if necessary.
I stand at a pub. Meditating…thinking about my own life. And I love it…
I’m totally alone, having a brew, while I observe smiling faces who share unbeknownst issues to my character. Thinking of a thousand stories to tell as a writer to my fans. Glorifying my lone wolf spirit. Crushing my past demons…it’s not pretty; nonetheless, necessary. I don’t rejoice in my healing process, but rather in the outcome.
I’ve finally realized this life is a battlefield, yet incredibly beautiful. I don’t regret living through the fire of this thing called life. The outcome is precious. Think of it as the molten iron which ends up succumbing to inevitable beauty. It’s a matter of perspective after all, right?
We spend too much time fighting back our miseries, our tragedies. Until we realize we must let go of them and LIVE! That’s the magic of life. To be able to determine what’s our purpose. Is it a paradise, or is it a barren land? Again…a matter of perspective. Just let yourself go…
I want this, or I need that? What’s the key? As for me, it’s what I need, which is…as I said…appreciation of life by looking in the most conspicuous places of my journey. That’s what I need, so I can conquer the summit in its highest altitude.
I’m about to head home. But I harvested a bountiful garden. Roses that never die. Roses that don’t wilt. Roses with precious petals. Yes. I’m very happy about my life. I won’t ever regret it. And the smiles? They seem wonderful. I’m happy those people posses them. And I’m happy that I’m totally alone, heading towards the long yard to my house…
Thank you beautiful life, thank you beautiful people…
THE INNER MIND 