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3:13
Avoid heat stroke
I still seem to see the old man arrive at the end of the afternoon, with clothes that could be wrung out with sweat, after having planted his faith in life in the furrow. He fertilized the land with perseverance every day and he was not martyred, but with a smile that indicated that, rather, he was enjoying that style of existence that has expired in our days.
Today we walk like headless ducks complaining about everything : the heat and if it's cold, the cold, the wind and the rain, our circumstances and our brother-in-law. And there is an automatic pilot that has taken over our lives, which works in two very simple ways: something is missing right now to be perfect, something here is crooked, it does not work as I would like.
In everyday work, there is a kind of hurricane that overturns everything and the colleagues are a bunch of selfish people who only think of themselves, those who do not fit in that bag are fools, other lambs, with the honorable exception of the person with the who am I talking about and of course. Could such irony be understood?
The house is a pot of crickets, the parents misfit fossils and the children too heavy a burden. It is better not to talk much about the couple, because being so close, it may be that the whirlpool engulfs us. For more signs, it is far from what one expected, it has become one divided from what it was when we met her.
In this way a fly on the wall bothers us and then, a fervent desire arises that this moment passes and that it be replaced by another where I can feel comfortable, or I immerse myself in the memory of someone else, where everything was wonderful and divine.. Projected like fireballs into the future and the past, the magic of now escapes us.
I remember how the drops of sweat, muddy in the soot of the burned cane, ran down my face, during a military mobilization to fulfill I don't know what goals. The wagon pulled by a tractor where I used to go at dawn comes to mind, together with my father and other peasants to work the land, the strong smell of the clothes that were not washed every day. And I understand the privilege I have had of not being the son of kings this time, but of vassals.
Now I ride for pleasure almost every day, and in winter I feel like the air freezes the cartilage in my ears and they hurt. How much would I give for a little stronger sun! In summer the shirt sticks and the rays of the star king, threaten to set fire to the exposed skin. How much I would give if they were softer! Until I decide to accept without complaint!
Is it really unbearable heat, cold, thirst or hunger? Could you take the reins of the mind and accept with curiosity what happens? Could you pay full attention to my discomfort with something? What is it that really bothers me so much? If I breathe and calm down, would I have a better chance of finding a more effective solution? Could it transform anxiety into wonder? Do I solve something by getting desperate, running more than I can, sleeping less than I should?
The heat stroke is possibly in our dissatisfied mind, just like the cold shock, the blow of non-acceptance, of the arrogance of thinking that we should understand everything, solve everything, control everything. Luckily there is an intelligence, to which we do not have access, an intelligence that lies within ourselves, in the same relationship that an ice floe is under water. Six out of seven parts of our essence, if they know what they do.
