Para finalizar, todavía se añade aquí una advertencia. Después de atravesar las aguas, sólo se le puede a uno hundir la cabeza cuando con frivolidad vuelve a dirigirse hacia el agua. Mientras uno marcha hacia adelante sin mirar atrás, se salva uno del peligro. Pero hay cierta atracción seductora en el deseo de detenerse para mirar hacia atrás y contemplar el peligro superado. Lo cierto es que semejante vanidosa autocontemplación, como en un espejo, no aporta ninguna dicha. Esto sólo conduce al peligro y si uno no se decide a tiempo a avanzar incesantemente hacia adelante, será víctima de ese peligro.
arriba, K´an, Lo abismal, el agua
abajo Li, Lo adherente, el fuego
del I ching
¡¡¡Muy Feliz 2012!!!
viernes, 16 de diciembre de 2011
lunes, 12 de diciembre de 2011
Mr. hard heart
Mr. Duke Dick, DD as everyone used to call him, was smoking nervously in the hall when Dr. Tass came in and told him everything was all right. He had stopped smoking since last year when he had decided to put an end with his agitated way of life. His wife had been happy with his decision, at last “they could enjoy their life together and live as a family”. She had dreamed with the white dress, the house with the backyard, the plants, the dog and kids. Nothing had gone in this way. He had spent most of his time and also his money emptying gin bottles. At the end, he had lost his strength. His life was a complete mess. Work and friends seemed to be vanished. And, last but not least, Sondra was meeting someone else. Like a great magician, he turned his life down to up. Three months later the new was announced. Sondra was pregnant.
“The mother and the boy are perfectly well, in a few minutes you will be able to see them. Yes, take it easy, everything is ok now. But, well, you know, there is something else i want to tell you. How can i do it? Oh, let me see…I told you, both are very well but there is something…I don’t know…I had read it on some special medical books but i had never seen a case directly…Your boy…has a peculiar condition…anyway…his heart is harder than usual…it is a very peculiar condition, nothing specially alarming except a peculiar detail on it which is called HHS, Hard Heart Syndrome added the doctor pretending to be more especific . And, what does it mean?, Mr. DD mumbled. Nothing particularly important except that his heart would not suffer a lot from difficult circumstances, Dr. Tass explained.
So, it was like that. In spite of that fact, firstly Mr. and Mrs. Dick took care of the baby with a lot of dedication, but when time began to go by, they turned more confident and relaxed. At the age of four he could remain alone in a dark room with no signal of excitation until someone appeared. He had no anguish at any kind of animals or ghosts. Maybe because of his condition or just by chance, the boy hadn’t suffered any kind of illness or accident. His life went on and he grew up living as if his body were in a pressure box. He had witnessed tremendous circumstances and his heart had always pounding in the same way. He could be in danger or he could be in an easy situation. He could be afraid of something or he could feel in peace. He could feel worried about something or he could feel in calm. Whatever he felt, his heart went on in the same constant rhythm. He was absolutely sure he wasn’t going to die from a heart attack. His heart was so hard and strong, so impermeable at every kind of different circumstances that nothing could happen to it.
Nevertheless he didn’t feel like a lucky man. He perfectly knew his life had been full of cut endings. His heart could be strong, but his mind couldn’t be that. He had a lot of bad memories which used to visit him again and again. He wished to find the way in which he could get rid of them. They were awful images, but he couldn’t have feelings according to them. They were images without feelings. Many times he had blamed himself for being a man who didn’t have a good heart. But, it wasn’t the case. He had a good one, a bit peculiar, but anyway, it wasn’t so bad.
He still remembered when his puppy was crashed by a car. That noon he had come back home walking without any sign of agitation or something like that. Despite the absent feelings, the scene was recorded in his mind. Something similar happened many years later, when he met Silly, his ex, having sex with his best friend. He had never felt any shift in the way in which his heart pounded. However he had thought to kill him.
Dr. Tass was right, he had an unbelievable hard heart.
He was thinking about this story while he was turned in bed. For the last two weeks he had kept there. Since then he didn’t wash his face, didn’t put clean clothes, didn’t eat anything else except what was staying at home, and he only went out of bed when he felt his body cramped. The last cigarette had gone some days before. He kept there with no willing at all, focused on his poundings, checking their monotony. Deep in his mind it seemed to be unexpected.
I don’t want to live with you anymore, she had said. I don’t want this kind of life. It’s enough, she had explained. I hate you! You are the best selfish I ever met. You, piece of ice. I’m going to leave you, i want to know nothing about you, you are so insensible, she had shouted while talking the luggage she had prepared the night before. Those had been the last words he had heard coming from her since she had gone out of his life.
And now, Mr. Hard Heart, DD JR as everyone used to call him, was in bed, trying to understand what had happened. How could she treat him in that way? What does it mean? Every word she had told him is wrong. Specially “piece of ice”, of course.
“The mother and the boy are perfectly well, in a few minutes you will be able to see them. Yes, take it easy, everything is ok now. But, well, you know, there is something else i want to tell you. How can i do it? Oh, let me see…I told you, both are very well but there is something…I don’t know…I had read it on some special medical books but i had never seen a case directly…Your boy…has a peculiar condition…anyway…his heart is harder than usual…it is a very peculiar condition, nothing specially alarming except a peculiar detail on it which is called HHS, Hard Heart Syndrome added the doctor pretending to be more especific . And, what does it mean?, Mr. DD mumbled. Nothing particularly important except that his heart would not suffer a lot from difficult circumstances, Dr. Tass explained.
So, it was like that. In spite of that fact, firstly Mr. and Mrs. Dick took care of the baby with a lot of dedication, but when time began to go by, they turned more confident and relaxed. At the age of four he could remain alone in a dark room with no signal of excitation until someone appeared. He had no anguish at any kind of animals or ghosts. Maybe because of his condition or just by chance, the boy hadn’t suffered any kind of illness or accident. His life went on and he grew up living as if his body were in a pressure box. He had witnessed tremendous circumstances and his heart had always pounding in the same way. He could be in danger or he could be in an easy situation. He could be afraid of something or he could feel in peace. He could feel worried about something or he could feel in calm. Whatever he felt, his heart went on in the same constant rhythm. He was absolutely sure he wasn’t going to die from a heart attack. His heart was so hard and strong, so impermeable at every kind of different circumstances that nothing could happen to it.
Nevertheless he didn’t feel like a lucky man. He perfectly knew his life had been full of cut endings. His heart could be strong, but his mind couldn’t be that. He had a lot of bad memories which used to visit him again and again. He wished to find the way in which he could get rid of them. They were awful images, but he couldn’t have feelings according to them. They were images without feelings. Many times he had blamed himself for being a man who didn’t have a good heart. But, it wasn’t the case. He had a good one, a bit peculiar, but anyway, it wasn’t so bad.
He still remembered when his puppy was crashed by a car. That noon he had come back home walking without any sign of agitation or something like that. Despite the absent feelings, the scene was recorded in his mind. Something similar happened many years later, when he met Silly, his ex, having sex with his best friend. He had never felt any shift in the way in which his heart pounded. However he had thought to kill him.
Dr. Tass was right, he had an unbelievable hard heart.
He was thinking about this story while he was turned in bed. For the last two weeks he had kept there. Since then he didn’t wash his face, didn’t put clean clothes, didn’t eat anything else except what was staying at home, and he only went out of bed when he felt his body cramped. The last cigarette had gone some days before. He kept there with no willing at all, focused on his poundings, checking their monotony. Deep in his mind it seemed to be unexpected.
I don’t want to live with you anymore, she had said. I don’t want this kind of life. It’s enough, she had explained. I hate you! You are the best selfish I ever met. You, piece of ice. I’m going to leave you, i want to know nothing about you, you are so insensible, she had shouted while talking the luggage she had prepared the night before. Those had been the last words he had heard coming from her since she had gone out of his life.
And now, Mr. Hard Heart, DD JR as everyone used to call him, was in bed, trying to understand what had happened. How could she treat him in that way? What does it mean? Every word she had told him is wrong. Specially “piece of ice”, of course.
miércoles, 9 de noviembre de 2011
Something (serious) to say
What time is it? It is around seven p.m. Two people are sitting in a bar. A woman and a man. Obviously. They are looking for something, waiting, alone. They keep in silence, watching nothing except the clock which is on the wall. They haven’t been there for a long time. Nevertheless they have been watching the time again and again. They are waiting for something, evidently. Both are smoking, but in a different way. The man takes the last cigarette from the empty box and lits it up with a match. He smokes calmly, taking care when it’s time to throw the ash. A cup of coffee is near the ashtray, he is going to drink it soon. He looks very manly with his clean clothes. Black jacket and pant, Armani’s sunglasses. Does he have a date? For sure he has an important one. In spite of his calm manners he is looking at the clock anxiously.
The woman looks into her handbag. She takes her Marlboro’s, tears the cover, and lits one with a golden lighter. She is doing it in a wrong way. She doesn’t realize it until she feels a bad taste in her mouth. She throws it immediately and lits another one. This time she watches it out to do it in the right way. What is she thinking about? She seems as if she were worried about something. She has a lot of papers on the table which she has been reading and she is tidying them up. She looks pretty tired. Perhaps she is over about those papers, or maybe she is over about her own life. It’s difficult to say what is really happening with her. She keeps facing the time.
Suddenly, at the same time, both get up and go to the door. They have decided to stop waiting, evidently. They go on watching nothing. They realize it when they run into each other. Then the papers are laying on the floor. So is the man. Some of them are under his back. Everything is fallen. The woman begins to pick her papers up. She has to turn him over to pick the rest. They are so dirty. With all the papers in her hand, she goes on her way while he begins to stand up, carefully.
I liked a lot that woman. I knew her some years ago while i was trying to deal with my life. I was a little elder than her, however she looked very young. At first i had looked up her face, but when time began to go by i had found out more than that. She was that kind of woman who was difficult to meet. Even more, she was completely different than my old wife. We had been married during six years, luckily no kids. The first month together everything had been okay. During those days we had spent a funny time, having sex almost every time, without any words about themselves. Everything went on the right way. She began to spend more time in my home, to leave some clothes there, and, when the first month was ending we were living together. The first day after the first month we began to talk. That day, the troubles showed up immediately. Nevertheless we remained other five years and eleven months trying to get rid of them. I couldn’t understand what kind of troubles we had really had. Besides, i could never understand why i had kept living with her. And, of course, vice versa. We shouldn’t have talked. That had been the solution. But, as always, it had not been possible. So, our issues went on rising until that day when i found himself with an empty bottle in my hand, trying to throw it on her. I had stopped myself just in time. The end was easy. Without any word she had taken all her things, called a taxi, and vanished forever. Firstly, i had to admit, i had rarely missed her. I met myself alone again and i didn’t know how to deal with the new situation. After some days i felt he began to come round. Loneliness could be an interesting way of life. For that period i saw her for the first time. We met each other and began to be friends. We used to talk about work, music, movies and that kind of things that people use to talk when they are just meeting themselves.
I enjoyed her company and i began to feel that body-sensation that men use to feel when they are in front of an amazing woman. What could i do? She didn’t seem to have the same feelings than me. Surely she never watched out a man like me. I had just decided to take her as a friend when, last week, she told me she had something serious to say to me. What does she want to tell me about? Thinking about it, i put clean clothes on and went to the bar where we had to meet each other.
Where have i left the papers? I can´t find them. I really need these papers where everything is explained. I could tell him about the matter, but writing-word has more value. I know it. With papers everything will turn easy. Where are they? Yes, they are in my handbag. I have put them there not to forget them. Is everything there? I have my cigarettes, my lighter, money, my lipstick, and of course some tissues just in case. I am ready. I have to do it because i told him i had something serious to say. He wants to know about it, surely. Maybe he suspects something. Never mind. i have to go to the bar and to tell him everything. I have been waiting for the right time, but it has never happened. I have kept in silence, enjoying his company, dying for love. I had to change the situation in some way. He is the man who I have always dreamt with. Never ever would i find someone like him. I wanted he had invited me to go to somewhere. But he didn´t say the first word. So, i had to do it instead. I have invited him to drink a coffee one day. And today is this day. At last my secret feelings will going to show up. How am i gonna to begin the talking? What am i gonna to say? I have rehearsed the scene many times. I have read the papers so many times that i am be able to repeat the exact words without reading. Still i need them. I am afraid of forgetting something…I am afraid of a lot of things. How do i look? It´s ok. Time was over.
It was an autumn Friday evening. It was beginning to be cold. The clouds were moving by the sky, changing the light. The sun began to disappear among them. There were many people in the street. Many of them were coming back home after a hard work’s week. Their faces looked very tired. It seemed as if everybody were in his own mind, alone. Perhaps many of them were suffering from loneliness. Perhaps when they were at home they would imagine to look for someone else, to join with somebody. However they went on walking without paying attention to the others. They looked busy. So did the street. Some people came in the bar before going on with their ways. The bar had its customers. Inside it the landscape was a little different. The noises weren’t so loud and nobody looked very hurried. Some kind of different expectations were there going around. There was a group of middle aged women near the window, who were drinking tea, talking and laughing; some couples of people were talking seriously in different tables; some kids that looked like students with their schoolbooks were in the middle of the place; and, at the back, a man in black, who was smoking, and in another table, a woman who was reading some papers. There were also some empty tables. It was cute because the place wasn’t too big. Some kind of intimacy could be felt there. Besides its own noises the place had its own rules. Every table kept just in its own business like isolated worlds. Like the calm which was before the storm. Just like that was that atmosphere.
And then, suddenly, the two lonely people, stood up. They seemed focused in their own minds. Like two clouds, they were moving to the entrance. Just there they crashed each other. A storm of papers broke out. They were falling all over the floor. The woman looked desperate. The man was fallen on some of her papers. Without any words, she picked them up. She was in the street when the man tried to stand up from the floor. On his feet, he put his glasses on and went on his way.
The woman looks into her handbag. She takes her Marlboro’s, tears the cover, and lits one with a golden lighter. She is doing it in a wrong way. She doesn’t realize it until she feels a bad taste in her mouth. She throws it immediately and lits another one. This time she watches it out to do it in the right way. What is she thinking about? She seems as if she were worried about something. She has a lot of papers on the table which she has been reading and she is tidying them up. She looks pretty tired. Perhaps she is over about those papers, or maybe she is over about her own life. It’s difficult to say what is really happening with her. She keeps facing the time.
Suddenly, at the same time, both get up and go to the door. They have decided to stop waiting, evidently. They go on watching nothing. They realize it when they run into each other. Then the papers are laying on the floor. So is the man. Some of them are under his back. Everything is fallen. The woman begins to pick her papers up. She has to turn him over to pick the rest. They are so dirty. With all the papers in her hand, she goes on her way while he begins to stand up, carefully.
I liked a lot that woman. I knew her some years ago while i was trying to deal with my life. I was a little elder than her, however she looked very young. At first i had looked up her face, but when time began to go by i had found out more than that. She was that kind of woman who was difficult to meet. Even more, she was completely different than my old wife. We had been married during six years, luckily no kids. The first month together everything had been okay. During those days we had spent a funny time, having sex almost every time, without any words about themselves. Everything went on the right way. She began to spend more time in my home, to leave some clothes there, and, when the first month was ending we were living together. The first day after the first month we began to talk. That day, the troubles showed up immediately. Nevertheless we remained other five years and eleven months trying to get rid of them. I couldn’t understand what kind of troubles we had really had. Besides, i could never understand why i had kept living with her. And, of course, vice versa. We shouldn’t have talked. That had been the solution. But, as always, it had not been possible. So, our issues went on rising until that day when i found himself with an empty bottle in my hand, trying to throw it on her. I had stopped myself just in time. The end was easy. Without any word she had taken all her things, called a taxi, and vanished forever. Firstly, i had to admit, i had rarely missed her. I met myself alone again and i didn’t know how to deal with the new situation. After some days i felt he began to come round. Loneliness could be an interesting way of life. For that period i saw her for the first time. We met each other and began to be friends. We used to talk about work, music, movies and that kind of things that people use to talk when they are just meeting themselves.
I enjoyed her company and i began to feel that body-sensation that men use to feel when they are in front of an amazing woman. What could i do? She didn’t seem to have the same feelings than me. Surely she never watched out a man like me. I had just decided to take her as a friend when, last week, she told me she had something serious to say to me. What does she want to tell me about? Thinking about it, i put clean clothes on and went to the bar where we had to meet each other.
Where have i left the papers? I can´t find them. I really need these papers where everything is explained. I could tell him about the matter, but writing-word has more value. I know it. With papers everything will turn easy. Where are they? Yes, they are in my handbag. I have put them there not to forget them. Is everything there? I have my cigarettes, my lighter, money, my lipstick, and of course some tissues just in case. I am ready. I have to do it because i told him i had something serious to say. He wants to know about it, surely. Maybe he suspects something. Never mind. i have to go to the bar and to tell him everything. I have been waiting for the right time, but it has never happened. I have kept in silence, enjoying his company, dying for love. I had to change the situation in some way. He is the man who I have always dreamt with. Never ever would i find someone like him. I wanted he had invited me to go to somewhere. But he didn´t say the first word. So, i had to do it instead. I have invited him to drink a coffee one day. And today is this day. At last my secret feelings will going to show up. How am i gonna to begin the talking? What am i gonna to say? I have rehearsed the scene many times. I have read the papers so many times that i am be able to repeat the exact words without reading. Still i need them. I am afraid of forgetting something…I am afraid of a lot of things. How do i look? It´s ok. Time was over.
It was an autumn Friday evening. It was beginning to be cold. The clouds were moving by the sky, changing the light. The sun began to disappear among them. There were many people in the street. Many of them were coming back home after a hard work’s week. Their faces looked very tired. It seemed as if everybody were in his own mind, alone. Perhaps many of them were suffering from loneliness. Perhaps when they were at home they would imagine to look for someone else, to join with somebody. However they went on walking without paying attention to the others. They looked busy. So did the street. Some people came in the bar before going on with their ways. The bar had its customers. Inside it the landscape was a little different. The noises weren’t so loud and nobody looked very hurried. Some kind of different expectations were there going around. There was a group of middle aged women near the window, who were drinking tea, talking and laughing; some couples of people were talking seriously in different tables; some kids that looked like students with their schoolbooks were in the middle of the place; and, at the back, a man in black, who was smoking, and in another table, a woman who was reading some papers. There were also some empty tables. It was cute because the place wasn’t too big. Some kind of intimacy could be felt there. Besides its own noises the place had its own rules. Every table kept just in its own business like isolated worlds. Like the calm which was before the storm. Just like that was that atmosphere.
And then, suddenly, the two lonely people, stood up. They seemed focused in their own minds. Like two clouds, they were moving to the entrance. Just there they crashed each other. A storm of papers broke out. They were falling all over the floor. The woman looked desperate. The man was fallen on some of her papers. Without any words, she picked them up. She was in the street when the man tried to stand up from the floor. On his feet, he put his glasses on and went on his way.
martes, 4 de enero de 2011
Turning over again
She had had a terrible day. She was exhausted. She had been working all day long. She had gone to different places looking for something that could help her in some way. She hadn’t found anything. Still she kept expecting something. She felt her head terribly heavy. She felt her heart terribly empty. Maybe because of that she had decided to take a bath instead of a shower. She filled the bathtub with hot and clear water and added an apple salt bath. She kept there for a long time. She had taken a magazine, but she kept into the water doing nothing. Not even could she think a single word. After that she put her robe on, played Foreign Affairs, her Tom Waits favourite record and lit a cigarette while she turned in. She smoked it calmly despite her tiredness.
Meanwhile Bette Midler was singing “your life is a dimestore novel, this town is full of guys like you and you are looking for someone who takes the place of her”
She turned off the table lamp. She tidied the pillow and put her head there. She felt her body so heavy. The only thing she could think about was to get asleep. She kept with her face focused on the ceiling while her eyes began to close. She could feel her bones sinking into the bed. She couldn’t think anything. Her head was very confused. Suddenly she was going to fall asleep, surely. So she turned over with her face focused on the wall which was close to her bed. Yes, all of her was over. It was time to turn over again. Now her face was focused on the pillow. She took it and put it over the wall. Everything was in the right place. She would be able to sleep. A few minutes later her common world was going to vanish and she was going to find herself in another kind of world. But suddenly her heart began to pound wildly. How was it possible? It was not the right time to get nervous. She had taken her time to do everything in the way she had to. Nevertheless it was happening. At first she couldn’t recognize her thoughts clearly. It was a body sensation. But a few minutes later she realized she couldn’t stop thinking about that kind of things she could work out the following day, or month, or year, or life. Whatever… None was a very important one. Yet they had been taking up her head as if they were the most important things in the whole world. She didn’t understand what she was doing. How could she stop thinking? She would have wanted to put her head away. Instead of it she thought to get up and to prepare a cup of tea. What kind of it would she prefer? She had a lot of different ones, jasmine tea; black tea; mint tea; and also a cheap one. But tea could be a very stimulating thing for her, wasn’t tea precisely, but she could forget to turn the flame off. If it happened a burning could be possible. Could she work it out on her own? She wasn’t sure. Maybe she couldn’t do anything and she would die among the flames. Someone would find her too late. Maybe it had been difficult to recognize her face. She didn’t want to die in that way. She had always thought that her death would happen in another way. She had imagined her body laying among a lot of roses. Many people would go to say to her goodbye, someone would say a few sensible words, Kentucky Avenue would be the perfect song for that occasion. Her eyes were opened again.
Too much time had went on since Tom Waits had replied “you’re bitter cause he left you, that’s why you are drinking in this bar” That song was wonderful. It was a perfect dialogue between a man and a woman. She had never had anyone like that. Not even someone a little similar. Even her own and privates dialogues which she thought while she used to try to fall asleep were poorer and more boring than that. She used to think about a lot of different things when she went to bed. It was not an easy work to get asleep. Every night the same thing happened. She couldn’t remember when it had begun but she was sure it had been some years before. During a long time she had been a perfect dreamer. She turned in and she fall asleep immediately. But things had changed. Unaware of something when she went to bed she kept perfectly awake. She had developed a hard process to reach the sleeping. Every night she turned the television on and lit a cigarette. After that she turned it off, light as well, and kept looking at the ceiling, it was a common white one, with nothing particularly interesting. After that she turned herself over to her right side looking, every night, at the same wall. At last, she turned herself over again looking at the pillow. She didn’t use to sleep with a pillow, because of that she used to take it off when she arrived at that time. When she was in that position, another work began. She tried to think nothing. If it weren’t possible, she used to remember something about Yoga-relax. She had practiced it some time before. Now she practiced it in her mind. It wasn’t the same thing, of course. However it could help her depending on circumstances. When Yoga exercises were finished she used to imagine a peaceful landscape, for instance a lonely beach, with a cool breeze. Sometimes if she could stop there she could reach her sleeping. But it didn’t always happen. Some kind of wishes could mix themselves with the image. Obviously it stood for a trouble. When it happened, a lot of different circumstances showed up and went up in spite of her efforts to think nothing. Generally they weren’t as cool as the breeze. Many feelings covered her head and also her body. Sometimes she had to lit a new cigarette to reach the calm again. When her feeling and thoughts began to be confused and she could feel her heart pounding calmly, she could get rid of herself plunging into a dream.
Tom Waits was playing his piano. A brief introduction before his voice showed up. . “…is mysteriously attractive due to circumstances knowing it will only be parlayed into a memory”.
It was the last song and she knew that. However she went on awake.
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