Reflecting on matters of life and death,
purpose and chance, relations with others,
and the many turns of life,
a life mostly wonderful, sometimes hard,
but all too often plainly absurd.
Of all the words I could think of
I just kept coming back to these ones,
a clarity I could not rival nor surpass,
written from the perspective of age,
wisdom and experience, and the highest power
someone at that time could attain on Earth.
Let the words just flow then,
as they were written eighteen centuries ago
by that great soul, wise among the wise,
dear Marcus, admired teacher,
please speak, I am here listening …
Look down from a height
on the countless herds of men,
and their countless rituals,
and their various journeys
through storm and calm,
and the many different beings who are born,
live together, and are gone.
Imagine the life lived by others long ago,
and the life that will be lived
after your departure
and the life that is lived
at this very moment
among alien peoples,
and how many are not even aware of your name,
and how many will soon forget it,
and how many who now praising you
will very soon be deriding you;
and reflect that neither remembrance
nor fame nor anything else whatever
is worth a passing thought.
Marcus Aurelius “Meditations”, book 9, verse 30.
I chose silence and simplicity to make my home
not because some priests or prophets told me so
but because I felt the less I have the happier I am.
I chose to deeply connect to life and by Nature abide
not because some books or gurus told me so
but out of realization that She is all there is.
I chose to ditch the straitjackets of ritual, dogma and fear
not because I am a hopeless rebel (although perhaps I am)
but because I saw that blind obedience is tool for evil control.
I chose love, compassion and understanding for my social life
not because some customs and laws may say so
but out of sincere appreciation of who we are and what we need.
All my life I tended my garden and served the greater good
if when my final hour comes I meet whatever gods out there,
in all modesty, they won’t have much to complain about.
Go on dear friend, listen to your own noble heart you too,
it is surely full of sincere goodness, you are not sheep in a herd,
be your own shepherd, and make your own virtuous spiritual path.
Lost and found in this world
This is what I got
This is what I became
Some strange and unique mesh
Of heart, spirit and mind
Of history, company, upbringing and luck
How could I ever pretend
That I am someone else?
How could I ever hide
Behind some curtain to fit in?
For better or worse
I now am who I am
The one who that child became
The seed of the one I will become
out of this entangled mess
I need to brake and emerge
put my burned out soul to rest
back to my passion connect myself
set to bloom and grow again
in a meaningful resurgence
for whatever is left of my days
the late spring of my heart
sweet clouds in red skies
tell me what became
of those alternative paths
the untold stories
that my choices left behind
Whatever we call reality
Even if such a thing exists
Will forever remain elusive
A truly hard picture to paint
Partly objective and measurable
Partly interpreted and beyond form
Whatever we experience and remember
Whatever we tell others and ourselves
Goes well beyond events and things themselves
And delve deep into the intricacies of the self
With our story, upbringing, environment and brains
Steering up swirls of joy, fears and hopes
Forming myriad of mental images and verdicts
No matter if right or wrong
Without ever telling us a thing
We frenetically spun those stories
That we will tell ourselves
Oh! How on Earth are we going to communicate?
How can I tell you the way I perceive my world?
So you see the same thing as I do?
How can we reach a common ground?
How can we steer away of conflict
And reach that dreamed of future
Of peace, understanding and love?
infused with the fury of spring
a mighty young river flows
powerful and hopeful
with the buoyancy of youth
although unbeknownst to it
whatever rocks it may move
wherever it goes at the end
its force remains deeply constrained
by mountains long ago built
by framing ideas that persist
thick influences lingering past their due
as it happens to us as well
deeper than we can know
we keep flowing ahead
sometimes meandering around
towards a vast and distant sea