The Dark Path

The dark path I ran away from, years ago, has apparently been following me; like a black snake. A black two-headed vermin with no eyes and with no more occupation than stalking me.

It is now weaving at me, with its long meager hand, a palm that wants to cover me completely, remove me from sight as if I was dust on a screen.

I go out and notice that the blinking eyes of strangers reminded me of handclaps. Everyone hard sounding, like little bricks crashing into each other. All of them watching the world crumble while making deafening sounds. They believe the dark path is also away from them? Maybe they have never seen it. Are their lives so simple.? So bored and predictable than their mere existence found satisfaction in forgetting, episode after episode, that they are dying? -Am I living? -they asked every minute. No, you are not living, you are dying but you don't realize it yet.

While I am getting submerged in my grievance, I can picture myself in front of a bush made of small white flowers whose brightness has been dimmed by the dust. It is summer, 6:00 PM, somewhere close to the Pacific. The light is barely seen, there is only a hard red shine over the city. The concrete walls look ominous, while I am giving small jumps trying to smash the autumn leaves on the sidewalk.

The cats, the dogs, and the birds have left the city. There are no more animals to pet, to admire.

I can see many sick women in the street. They are licking their arms and hands, tasting the flavor over their bodies. There is one however who doesn't do it. This woman knows the truth, but at the same time rejects it. She is doubtful, but she still prays for revelation.

Eduardo Guillen.

The corrupt, the purity, and the way we are

How can a man who promised himself to work for the people end being so corrupt? I have been thinking about this problem (in the sense of transformation) for several days now. The fact is that no men become corrupt suddenly. In other words, let us say this change is done, first, with small steps, baby steps.

Moreover, this is the dilemma that haunts men in every aspect of life, good or bad. In ancient Greek men wonder and continuously ask themselves about the purpose of life. Many felt into the idea that the 'Logos' of life was to pleasure oneself incessantly, asking for more every time; and with each new episode of pleasure, their need to seek more innovative ways to satiate a hunger that became increasingly dangerous and pernicious.

Only one taste, one single touch could get you into an overfall of desire. This can be translated to the corruption of the politician, the intellectual, the philosopher. Corruption means that something has been altered, atrophied, debased. And the corruption of the pure and beautiful are the kind of denigration that deals more damage to the collective mind of society.

Are purity, and the desire to be pure, wrong? Why people nowadays see it as wrong? Why we ask so much less from ourselves when it comes to being a better (pristine) person?

I don't want to belong to a society that drills into the mind of young people ideas of moral and ethical imperfection. The nature of men, by default, is always asking for more, whatever the men choose to go for: good, bad, or lame. If a man decides to be bad  eventually this will grow, and it could only be stopped for two reasons:

1) The corrupt imminently knows he is going to be caught and for that reason stops, for a while.
2) The corrupt dies.

Not only that, the corrupt will make his case to justify his deeds. At this moment you know he has normalized his behavior because the evil has taken his eyes, ears, and tong. This person is completely transformed and cannot be trusted again, because for that purpose he would have to be renewed.

I just keep seeing this pattern happening continuously, incessantly, and it is taking a toll on me.

Falling or Failling?

People believe the enchantment is unconscious, No. It's conscious; it gets you through your five senses, being aware or unaware of it. You can feel something beginning to burn inside.

I ask myself, is this what I want? Maybe it is. Part of me wants this to happen. It reminds me of this book called: 'This unbearable lightness of being,' from Milan Kundera.

The book expresses, briefly speaking, you only have one life. And you sometimes fall into doing things you don't want to do but that you are called to do from deep inside of you at the same time. This doubt is inherited by every human being. (Christianity has a better and easier way to describe this. It calls it: 'Temptation').

There is fear, anxiety, small pinches of panic. That fire is burning, but burning what? Something must be ignited to be burn. I know, maybe dreams, expectations, ideas, hope.

I was thinking about how to describe my feelings now. It gets clearer with time. I am saying this is getting clearer. The message is that I must make decisions. I cannot keep running out of them. I have to close some paths to open others.

So, I need to hurt others to keep my sanity? I need to be honest; if that means to hurt, then it must be like that. There is no motive to keep evading the truth. Freedom is unavoidable. It is called being honest. I must speak with the truth.

This also means I will have to pay the price. I can't deny this either.

Another stone in my way

These past days have been hard to come up with. I have felt the stress before, but this time there are complex considerations in play. Living far from home carries a feeling of displacement. This comes to me from time to time.

I am not weak, but doubts assault my mind every day. Still, nothing clarifies my sight there is only a foggy road ahead. Sometimes, I discover myself numb, in automatic mode, performing daily tasks I already lost any interest in doing.

Regardless of that, there is light at the end of a tunnel. There is hope, I can find my way in the middle of so much confusion. I need to take radical desitions now. Be braver. There is so much to do, so little time, so little energy left.

The conclusion is simple. If you want something you have to fight for it. I mean, literarily fight for it. There must be a hidden meaning into all of this. Maybe here lies a mistery, a divine purpose disguised as mundane perspective. The only thing clear is that you must go foward. There is no other way, you must go further.

Humans are dangerous creatures, there are never satisfied.