The City is dead to me. A growling hungry beast of dust and dimness. Life turned to stone in the eyes of freedom. Freedom truely is a great treasure. As is health, Freedom within the body. The world seems to invite me. There is a lively itching in my feat to wander. There is nothing I need to do. It is a matter of choise. This is the first day of the life where I will no longer do things because I have to. It is an illusion. Why do we do those things, that don't feel right? For fammily? For fear or Glory? For gain of unnessesary material gain? All my life, I was aspiring. Reaching for a goal, trying to prove myself worthy, able, good. Yet life is not about that. My father would rather plant Roses, and that is as good a porpose as any.
Iye do not consider myself a religious person, but deeply spiritual. Spiritual in the sense that I believe/feel/see a universal inteligent spirit that unites all beings, all things. I feel like a leaf on a tree. As soon as it gets separated from the tree, it starts to wither. The leaf cannot live without the Spirit. When life ends, some part of the spirit does not live on somwhere else. All that we recognise as spirit are just different manifestations of the same soul. Like tentacles stretching out. For a tree it must be so obvious that is it an integral part of the soil. Yet for us, as mobile organisms, we tend to forget that we are just as attached to the earth as the greens. The moment that we are separated from the planet, we start to wither too. We need constant nourishment in different forms like food, air, water, support, warmth. So I feel cradled, in the womb of Pacha Mama. A womb, that actually, have never left.
And so I wish to live where I can feel her precence most strongly. Surounded by her beauty. That is where I belong, and that is where Iye flourish.
