Ritornare a Fare -mentre la Vita si compie- Sometimes we receive items. Rumors flying through the air crisp, carried by a strong east wind that sweeps everything, everything raises. We enter into the ear without permission and began to hum. Hum and whistle. Hum and hiss. Incessantly.
it is not clear what is or what it means. We feel just a movement, a violent push that taken down by our niche. A force that disturbs us, but that shakes us. It puts us on a journey. We do not know what it's like all this mess on his head. And do not even try to listen to, it would be a waste of time. E '-entry period.
And this is not about to stop and try to understand. Yes throw away pieces of life. Have to do, to walk. No matter what or why or how: the essential and do. Simply.
E 'Action that leads to the movement. Stasis binds you to the posts and leave you there, like an abandoned dog. A transformation, illumination-if-you want comes only moving, struggling, sweating. I always remember that Mr. Brunino wisely I shouted "You go to the meeting never see the ball." Even in the game of football is that it meets, is to move from being seen.
With the barrel is a bit 'the same thing. We got up re-learn to do. But it is not strictly necessary to construct or fabricate qualcosa. Non parlo di un’idea di Fare come produzione utile o –comunque- sensata. Anche giocare con un bimbo, prepararsi un dolce, correre con un cane è Fare.
Fare è tutto ciò che ci smura dalla nostra malinconica poltrona e ci sbatte fuori di casa, nel mondo. Fare ci richiede impegno, ci mette in gioco, ci chiede di accendere la testa.
Non necessariamente si tratta di cose prettamente materiali. Non necessariamente. Un po’ di pragmatica attività aiuta infatti a riscoprire la Concretezza della Vita. Impastarsi le mani nella farina. Pulire i vetri di casa. Scrivere una lettera ad un amico. Cercare una Poesia. Son cose piccole, semplici, forse futili. Ma son queste che ci fanno smuovere, che restituiscono dinamismo un'abulica to everyday felted bitterness. It is not the grand gestures, big events to lose out on the trail. Perhaps give us a push: then it's up to us return backpacker and take the road all day.
E 'in Everyday that you can find the zest for life. A little 'attention and a bit of wonder. Caring for those around you, to what's happening next. Wonder at the enormity of the day. E 'absurd our great ability to overlook the existence, losing the magic of the passage of time. Every day you do next to us silent miracles that even perceive. We do not see the taste into a smile, in tears, in shopping, in a flower blooming in a falling leaf. Do not open their eyes when the rain beats, greets us when our mother, died when a fire at night.
We and our society we consider nonsense, useless frills, unnecessary detail. But what's bigger, more beautiful in every moment of life that takes place?
in contact with this life that is making us put in motion. In fact, walking is that walking. Living-in fact-which we live. Loving you love. It sounds obvious, I agree. In reality often think of doing certain things. In reality we are just thinking and not-really-doing.
We all know that the motto "E ' I love thinking of love "does not hold. There is no verse. Regge maybe in our head, but does not flow from our hands, our eyes, our lips. Gets caught between the nerves, does not flow into gestures. That's because Love asks, demands and claims the power of gestures, the essentiality of the Shares. The ideas are only good intentions.
Thought serves to recognize life, to settle down, to adjust to-and-designed. All good, all useful. But it is living the life that is built. It does not dwell in thought. Thought has no time. System and helps bring order into what has been experienced. But it is life itself that gives us all this wealth of modeling clay.
And everything is hidden behind the Making. Behind Making a simple, ordinary, almost primitive. Do not believe it is WHO KNOWS 'WHAT. Even the simple and immediate Stare is a little-different-ways.
Being silent. Stand by. To listen. Stare to contemplate a face, a rose or the world go by. Stare and Stare in reception, open, conscious life is accomplished.
is not a drastic change. It's nothing more than a return to Him. A return to material life, the concreteness of everyday life. What we are is-always-enslaved the ideal life. "Fold Relations" said a fighter. The risk is realized-my-every day. It is to be to be careful, and quite a lot.
The important thing is to always have the thought as a means. And life as only real, substantial Finish.
La drammatica Non-Esistenza di Perchè Some things in life just happens. There is also the reason for above-and-you should not look for it. We must accept reality and live with it, without being too barrel. There are things that can not be explained: the death is one of them. But no matter
go too "difficult" to grasp the inexplicable existence. Sometimes it is an encounter with a person or entity to give us brainy metaphysical doubt as to why. At other times, also a wonderful caress, a glance or a tender thought to leave us speechless, because dangling from a real estate lips.
Why, Why, Why, Why, Why. Each time the usual soup, try to build some logic to a reversal of the soul. We try to rearrange the room. It struggled to find a systematic basis. The solution would perhaps rebuild some excuse or justification for the bloody chaos that has placed that event, if we are content with a false and deceptive the way is the right solution.
But if we try the real substantial reasoning for that scene, That meeting, at The Little Randomness. If we look Realmente Reale capace di far quadrare il cerchio. Beh, alle volte dobbiamo arrenderci e lasciare i nodi intrecciati, i fili appallottolati e la vita arruffata.
Convivere con una Vita spettinata è forse meglio che venirci alle mani, ed uscirne coi lividi. Certo, c’è da spengere il cervello: la cosa non è così immediata, ma si può imparare. Imparare a manovrare in quegli stretti spazi in cui ci è dato decidere, sapere, capire. Al di là, Oltre il limite del conoscibile non siamo autorizzati ad attingere. Forse è lì che Qualcuno ha nascosto la Sostanza delle cose, della vita, dell’amore, del dolore. Le ha rimpiattate lì per non farle strappare, sgretolare da qualche furioso individuo in collera con l’esistenza. Un buon intuito di preservazione, tutto sommato. Anche se continuiamo a pagare il prezzo emotivo di nostre intime domande prive di un’affermazione attendibile e –soprattutto- corrispondente.
Punteggiatura - l'essenza nascosta del nostro Essere- Spesso non abbiamo un Posto preciso. Tantomeno impersoniamo un Ruolo o una posizione sociale.
Spesso siamo pura, semplice, rarefatta Punteggiatura. Tutto qui: dei meri segni intrisi di un qualche strano significato.
Possiamo somigliare ad una Virgola. Rappresentare un passaggio, una pausa. O molto più banalmente una presa veloce di fiato prima di proseguire nel discorso. Così come arriviamo ce ne andiamo, nel silenzio di un infinitesimo attimo di vita. Arriviamo dopo una word-important-and often give the momentum to another that is undertaking. We push, we flow and rhythm to the speech. That's it, finished our task.
Alternatively, we can embody a full stop. There is longer than the rest: we are not passing, we are not futile ornament. On our side, life stops for a bit ', rests and is refreshed. We close a parenthesis, we give you a sense, we give a little touch of salt to a speech that will probably never be fulfilled. We separate the talk and help them to heal the wounds of their work. We have stability, certainty, fixed and permanent. Do not fly away with the first stroke of a pen, in fact.
We can be an exclamation point. Collect in noi l’ebbrezza di un momento, la gioiosa maestosità di una fuga nell’infinito. Avvolgere di passione istanti di esistenza che appaiono così eterni, così belli, così intoccabili. Laviamo via le macchie di una quotidianità abulica per pochi minuti, giusto il tempo di disilludersi della futilità di tutto ciò. Il cinismo riporterà poi il tutto su un piano “normale”, con implacabile inevitabilità. Ma intanto il nostro volo si è compiuto, toccando il cielo con un dito, sentendo nel naso l’odore di aria rarefatta. Abbiamo goduto –per un attimo- o abbiamo fatto godere.
Oppure –amaro gioco del destino- possiamo essere un Punto Interrogativo. E qui il gioco si complica, parecchio. We do not know what it represents, if not a symbol of uncertainty, doubt, loss of consciousness. No one knows the precise value that gives the sentence. Everything is played around intonation, reading, subjective interpretation of the reader. There is no security value. And 'there, suspended between reality and possibility, between being and nonbeing, between life and death. Pending an agreement, a stagnant river, a muddy swamp. There, you see, you can touch. But it's not clear where to go, or what they are, or what it means for us. " We feel that there is and what we limit ourselves. And here Fear surrounds us, and troubles us troubles us: we fear what we do not know, we're so damn scared-and-limited. A question that is wearing thin line between the real and the unreal, between truth and falsehood. There is, I repeat, do not argue. The problem lies in how and what it all meant, girigogolo articulated over a dot.
And probably in life are those that make us casino, we disrupt the normal sequence of days. The speech goes well until we come across one of those damn points. And there we got stuck in the mud plant-in-waiting to come out with a flash with a rope or a friend. Or maybe enough to accept, learn to live with it and give them a simple meaning, of our own.
