“That’s life (that’s life) that’s what people say, You’re riding high in April, Shot down in May”…Said Sinatra and he was right. “But I know I’m gonna change that tune” and I start this morning. To begin I wake up at 9:00 am…instead of 7:00. I told to my self: «I want wake-up with a purpose» because the rigor of the rules with which we live doesn’t suit me. I like to think, to play, to dance, yes, to dance, even alone, swirling my body like a shaman. That’s my profession, my real profession: shaman. To me a shaman is someone able to call the dark and as well light forces of the hidden universe, it is someone beyond the arithmetic of life, 2+2= 4. I want to live near people who have a higher purpose in life and doesn’t fear death. I want to live near poets, scientists-poets, beautiful ladies that aren’t aware of the treasure hidden inside their souls. Maybe you are not quite following me, but Brexit and the right-wing parties in the UK and the stupid guys in power in Brussels put me thinking about this damn life. Have you heard the news? The guys in Brussels want to push things faster for the UK to leave for good the EU… It is unbearable to watch them acting like teenagers because their bodies are old, but their minds were fabricated in the tumultuous, tortuous process for winning the political power. So, they didn’t grow up as we are supposed to do, and we, citizens, didn’t figure out yet how to put them out of the political power. They pretend to be liberal, democrats, but in practice, they follow the Marxist-Leninist-Maoist slogan “Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun”... Of course, these unspeakable criminals that call themselves warriors of religions, AKA terrorists, they are teenagers too, because they didn’t grasp one damn thing about life (in fact, they destroy life)… All this apparently confused thoughts result from a sad news I received. I am talking about a friend of mine, a women, that was a teacher in high school and poet. A poet. Her life wasn’t riding well. She died three days ago, but another friend of mine (and her), in Cape Vert, received from her, one day after she was dead from a heart stroke, a phone message telling her some trivial kinds of stuff about life and ending with an «I love you».

And that’s when I understood her message. We may die, but we all should leave in this material world a beautiful message for our friends. That should be our purpose.

 

Advertisements