Faced with the shipwrecks, appears the rescue. The saved castaways are "exploited", as if they had to pay for their salvation. And like this they are silent, in acceptance and in obedience; but not as a being of virtue, but rather as a fear of punishment.
Yes. This does not only happen to the immigrants. This is happening to humanity.
It navigates aimlessly, and gets shipwrecked. The survival becomes the rescuer. And, from there, the supremacy of the saviour becomes the dictator. And it's going to be difficult to return to dare to navigate.
From any point of view, the being continuously migrates. It lives in a place of the Universe that is navigating. And it does not cease to do so, it does not stop. It goes, towards… the infinite, but does not get shipwrecked. The small beings that inhabit the planet, also navigate according to their interests, and their capacity.
There are also navigators, even though they are apparently still, the sedentary ones that with their plots, imaginations and projects seek to amplify their foundations, their possessions.
If in where we reside is in continuous navigation, and does not get shipwrecked, what dwells in that place is not designed to shipwreck… and to need rescue; and, with that basis, the justification for the security and the quietness.
Similar to our place in the Universe, has to be our doing and behaviour: to navigate towards the course of Eternity. Without Attachments; in company. Without moorings; in commitment. Without attacks; in dialog and understanding.
And like this humanity would be declared "Navigators of Universes".
It would stop to be a navigational suicide or slaves of shipwrecks.
Alas!, Divine Mystery the guide of navigators.
You created us as expert travellers.
You promoted us as excellent orienteers.
Alas! You gave us the stars so as not to lose ourselves
in the reference toward the Infinite,
in the bosom of Eternity.
Woe!... Woe! You gave us the necessary help
to feel accurate.
Free, liberated and safe at the same time!
Without owing, the debt,
"something" that could suppose a debt;
and with it, a demand and a punishment.
From the insignificant supplication
is proclaimed the true nature
That Let us become according to the image and likeness of the Creation.
Navigators of exception, amazed travellers
who know that their life
is a pilgrimage toward the Eternal Infinity.
Pilgrims of the Infinite,
of soft tender envelopments of Mercy.
Woe! And that, as we pray,
we feel the satisfied care
of the one who gives without waiting,
of the one who gives without imposing,
of the one who gives with joy,
of the one who gives generously,
of the one who gives in the mysterious silence of the invisible.
Woe! We cannot give in to the one not listening!
before he who only listens to himself
and before he who wants to hoard…
handle, impose, enslave us.
No, no. We cannot waver
before he who is liberated and is a pilgrim of love,
but that has been set up as the saviour,
as protector, as caregiver, as manager…
without being it.
No! We cannot waver
before anyone like us.
We are an expression of joy and complaisance.
We are an expression of astonishments, impressions and curiosities.
We are an expression of attraction, love and fusion!
We are an expression of eternities that await us,
but that carry us!
That with mercy shelters us!
and make us become merciful.
We are the result
of an incessantly creative Mystery!
And to this we owe, to know the truth of our nature!
Which is not of interest and profits!;
of accomplishments, achievements and possessions;
of instances of power and justice.
We do not need justice,
because The Just has created, with precision, that which navigates.
We do not need order or imposition!,
Because the Infinite has foreseen any type of variable.
I do not need to be me, nor us!
We need to be… without possessions, without property.
And we are never alone on the journey.
An echo of hope, faith,
of fantasy and imagination!
accompanies us permanently.
And it makes us be in solidarity with all what travels!
Everything seems to be foreseen, and with surprise.
Everything seems to be… it not only looks like, but it is a gift!
It is a gift, to “be”
It is a gift to breath, listen, taste, see, touch…
Windows of Heaven!, of empty holes,
That if they appear to be filled
it is to be aware of our position.
But in reality they are empty.
And when they come into this emptiness
is when we feel taken,
We cannot leave our packaging of being a gift.
We cannot undo the link of creative communion.
We do not have access to the surprise of who we are.
But we know that we transport mystery.
That the Mystery guides us and “capacitates us”.
We do not have debt nor debit with someone.
We do have attraction and communion with all.
And like this, we are a navigator tribe, without tribute!; without tribune. Sufficiently Loaded with humility, with submission. In permanent mission. With flags and banners of faith, of compassion!, mercy and liberation.
Woe!... I’m not of me. And that frees me from my last… my last slavery!, which is my identity, my project, my possession.
I'm not of me, and I represent a magical creative moment! A surprise and a gift of redemption, capable of being moved and moving!... of being an echo of investment.
I am the investment of a creative act. But I am not in debt. I'm not an income! I am not a producer. I am an expression of love. And as such, to that I am in debt, because this is what emanates from me. This is what gives me sense… to feel that they carry me. And before any arrogance that emerges as important, as impostor, imposing, I have to be alert to recognize my nature, which the prayer continually expresses.
And like this there are no shipwrecks! There is no drowning. Nor funerals, nor burials, nor cemeteries. There are floating beings of Mystery that navigate in its capacity of joy… living! That is to say, "seeing”. Seeing the impressive Creation… close by, immediate, distant and fanciful.
Woe!... The continuous and persevering prayerful reminder encourages me, and frees me from the oppression of my pride. Frees me from the fear that haunts me; that wants to take over me. And takes me towards… towards those who are being lovers and loved! And I go closer to those who do not pursue me; towards those who do not punish me.
No, I am not… I am not an independent unit, pending, and arrogant, of my personality. That, I am not. That brings me to the belonging, to belong to me!; and of course, to try to possess under any trick of confrontation, of persecution or escape.
I do not belong to myself. I am not my owner.
And the more I take belonging of my being, more times I will be shipwrecked. Shipwrecked in such a way that I repeat and I repeat! What terror of repetitions!
He who owns and which possesses does not know how to navigate. It arrives to the shipwreck, and another like him saves him.
But it seems that it is too soon to assume that I am not of me, I don't belong to myself, I am not the owner of my actions, rather that I want… -I want, I want to; not to love, because he who 'wants' no longer loves- but rather I want to be me, without realizing that I am not of someone.
Except in cases where, in an instant, the prayer moves me and gives me the thrill of true liberation. Then I realize the gulf between what I intend!, and what the life intends.
Alas, what a disgrace to be me!, what a disgrace to be of me and of my actions! Always in debt with the others, and the others with me. And like this to constitute a community in debt, avoiding, fearful, insincere, tricky and misleading.
Alas, alas! If I come from love, and I am from the reflection of love, how is it that… how is that I want it and I try to possess it? How is it that I abduct it, reject it, allow it or hide it? How is that they have given it to me in astonishment and admiration, I convert it into a possession… that accepts, that rejects, that goes, that comes? I convert it into a misery without redemption.
No! That's not me!... Not even I am me. “Not even I am me” I am expression.
My representative is the Creation. My equivalent is the Mystery. My demonstration, my love. That is not mine; that is only a reflection of what I continually get.
Woe!... Between slits hints the light. It is not intended to condemn the darkness.
Woe!... Between slits, the Divine Pupil moves.
Woe! And I move like the wind. Like the gentle breeze that passes through the waves.
Woe!... Without boundaries!, dreaming! Becoming an echo of Mystery, that does not need to know!... because I am continually being born.
I feel like a transit of light! And when the firefly jumps, its expression resound on me - oh!- … and I do not need to see her. But what emanates, also I am.
Alas, what a tenderness of life!, that awaits me in every corner... with a better and better and better and better surprise!
As a walking pilgrim that is guided by the smell of love, I am not fooled by the obstacle, and I go around it… or the jump it.
The arms of love call me. There can be no delay. Only precision.
Silence, an accomplice of distances…
Silence, a lover of closeness… that sighs!
Silence… Tears of fantasies.
Silence… Devoted… because we are.