The Walk

13 enero, 2012

Thursday afternoon of a hot summer day. I went to downtown for a few quick steps. I was heading to the bus stop, thinking that I could have a car again but this time hiring an experienced driver, maybe permanently. So long it has been since I decided not having a car anymore, after seeing so many patients suffering negative consequences from automobilist accidents. Then I decided use the public transport for being sustainable and effective. It did come quickly. The bus was very comfortable, had air conditioning, not too many passengers had either.

This time everything was quite easy despite some stressed people in the bus, some others were all dressed up and a few of them just tired from work. The driver was a good one by driving, with good sense of humor indeed. Everything was fine. There was a guitar man playing “Tu Vens” from the sertanejo Alceu Valença, pretty good for being played in a bus.

Somehow, when I was almost getting my destination, I started to feel uncomfortable on a way too difficult to explain. I had no reason for feeling that way. I just wanted to walk, so I got down the bus and walked the two blocks to my destination. I felt better by walking, even ignoring some extremely strong noises out there.

I made my formalities really fast.

Then I went my way back. I saw a huge plume of smoke, fire and the street empty from the regular traffic but full of all kinds of vehicles running with open horn. I started to walk slower the few blocks until I get there, to the right place when I got down the bus.

Multiple car crash.

It was all a mess and I couldn’t help shed some tears. It could have been me, but I wasn’t there at that time when it happened. Suddenly I found out that those tears running in my face wasn’t entirely about me. I was fine. Then…, why I was crying?

Who are those people I was crying for? And I was not exactly sad, but overwhelmed by a strange feeling, a very similar feeling like respect, but greater. “This is Love”, I – my future me- said with a little voice. Strange Love that I rediscovered about every life, cause I used to think I was three, but I am maybe more, maybe seven in one.

I prayed for them while walking.

A whole host of thoughts came to my mind. You can’t go back the time, you can only remember the best lessons you’ve learned. You can not advance the clock, you just can set your plans for the future. These two things are happening now. We only have a Present time, and it is this. Here and Now.

Everything has its time and place to happen. Why hurry, then? Every life is affected by our thoughts and feelings… You hurry, many lives run away; you drink, many lives get drunk. Why can’t we sit and talk peacefully about us?…

When I got home, went to the bathroom and saw my self in the mirror, this time with different eyes. I am an old soul in planet Earth, although a too much young spirit in Universe for handling certain things. “We are all One”, easy to say, easy to understand, but is it that easy to feel?

I turned my hair to clear my face. Something was moving there. A small humidity bug was running like crazy, he was running for his life because of me. I stayed quiet there, looking at him, but he was still freaking out.

“So…, we humans we are causing all this mess?”- I asked to… myself? Well, one of them, another future me. But I was in fact talking to him, to the insect. I could feel his fear, for one second I knew how tremendous his panic was. That strange feeling came back to me. It could be called Respect for every life, or more clearly LOVE.

“Hey, I know there is good moisture here… But this is not the right place for you. Not safe here. Come on, little buddy, you have to go now.” So he walked to the window and went away.

In a simple two-blocks walk I forgot all about a car and a driver, and learned the unconditional love you can give and receive to and from all forms of life. I am one, I am three, I am seven, and I could be many, possibly I am all, just in different times and places for everyone, different moments of yours that already happened and others that anyone saw yet.

Are you still waiting for some moral in this story?

This is the little moral of the story: I am you.

One comment

  1. Quite true, I’ve lost count of how many I am, because basically we are one.


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