Thursday, July 08, 2004
SONG TO HALL UP HIGH
I know you watch over me
Father of all the past
And all that will ever be
You are the first and the last
The watcher of all that lives
The guardian of all that died
The one-eyed God way up high
Who rules my world and the sky
Northern wind take my song up high
To the Hall of glory in the sky
So its gates shall greet me open wide
When my time has come to die
(This words are in the memory of Quorton, also known as Thomas Forsberg, creator of the legendary band Bathory, who died on the seventh of June in Stockholm and that, through many years, was a creator of thruth and of dreams. One of the people touched by his words and by music was the teenager that I once was. Quorton, I deeply thank you for all the strengh that you thaugh me.)
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
Everybody used to call him "Ti Saturninho". "Ti" is a small word that we use in this part of the country for older people and that shows respect. It derives from "tio" (oncle). "Saturninho" comes from the name "Saturnino". Here, we have a chapel devoted to Saint Saturnino and the father from Ti Saturninho had a small property close to that chapel. He sold it when he was still alive and Mr. AML got that name only because of his father.
He used to live in one of the last houses of the village on the way to the road that leads to the city. Nowadays, there are a few more houses close to his house. It was one of those neighbours that found him dead. He was still in his bed and he probably died during his sleep. The woman that found him dead, was going to his yard to pick some lemons. She knocked on his door but he didn't answer. Like most people, he didn't have his door locked, so she entered and found him cold and dead.
I still remember when he worked. I was a child and, on my way to school, I would pass through him on the street. His job was to sweep the streets. He would greet everybody without stopping to sweep the street. He had a huge broom. It was bigger than him.
He never got married. He never had children. Nobody ever heard of him having anything with anybody. I have always seen him as a nice, polite and gentle man.
There weren't many people on his fu,eral: one sister, that came from a village that is ten kilometers away, with her family; some people from his age and some of his neighbours.
With all respect, I hope that he may now get all the freedom and all the peace. I am sure that he was much more than his story. Still, I leave it here in the form of these simple words so that we may know that he once existed among us.
Monday, July 05, 2004
Mr. Antonio "Satorninho" passed away. He was found dead in his house this morning. He was more than eighty years old. He will be burried tomorrow. I will spend the whole day working on his grave.
"Way out at the end of a tiny little town was an old overgrown garden, and in the garden was an old house, and in the house lived Pippi Longstocking. She was nine years old, and she lived there all alone. She had no mother and no father, and that was of course very nice because there was no one to tell her to go to bed just when she was having the most fun, and no one who could make her take cod liver oil when she much preferred caramel candy.
Once upon a time Pippi had had a father of whom she was extremely fond. Naturally she had had a mother too, but that was so long ago that Pippi didn't remember her at all. Her mother had died when Pippi was just a tiny baby and lay in a cradle and howled so that nobody could go anywhere near her. Pippi was sure that her mother was now up in Heaven, watching her little girl through a peephole in the sky, and Pippi often waved up at her and called, "Don't you worry about me. I'll always come out on top."
Pippi had not forgotten her father. He was a sea captain who sailed on the great ocean, and Pippi had sailed with him on his ship until one day her father was blown overboard in a storm and disapeared. But Pippi was absolutely certain that he would come back. She would never believe that he had drowned; she was sure he had floated until he landed on an island inhabited by cannibals. And she thought he had become the king of all the cannibals and went around with a golden crown on his head all day long.
"My papa is a cannibal king; it certainly isn't every child who has such a stylish papa," Pippi used to say with satisfaction. "And as soon as my papa has built himself a boat he will come and get me, and I'll be a cannibal princess. Heigh-ho, won't that be exciting?"
Astrid Lindgren, The Adventures of Pippi Longstocking
Thursday, July 01, 2004
How many are we?
Three simple existencial exercises:
1 - Spin
How to do it: Just spin around for as much as you can take it. Focus on the spining and focus on the way that the ground and everything around you is still moving after you stopped.
Time needed: 3 to 5 minutes.
Conditions required: 2 square metters of empty space.
Results desired: A new perspective about a specific problem, about space and about the world. Sensation of confort afterwards.
2 - Water
How to do it: Drink lots of water and pee. Drink lots of water and pee.
Time needed: 2 hours.
Conditions required: 1 bathroom. 1 water tap.
Results desired: Taking conscience of the body. Sense of property over the body. Knowing and accepting weaknesses.
3 - TV
How to do it: Spend 4 to 5 hours watching TV.
Time needed: 4 to 5 hours.
Conditions required: 1 TV.
Results desired: Loosing conscience of time. Understanding what is essencial about the way ones uses time and attention.