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The coherence

It is Sunday. Just I raised the pages, and I am writing yesterday for reasons several; let us say that sometimes one knows must make certain things, and sometimes one knows that it must remain quiet. I write because there is something to say that not that it is, and nevertheless he is coherent. Perhaps I must speak on the coherence.

I am in one of those stages of the life that create or destroy, of those stages in which one decides if it survives or it surrenders, and where there is no return. But the same inertia of the training, and to be in a determined way of life, answers the question, if sometimes it existed. Pass to the battle.

It does about two years was in a Sanborns (store with cafeteria and magazines and books), hoping at that a person arrived who asked for my aid. As ground to arrive early, half an hour before to all my commitments, labor or no, I put myself to leaf through a magazine. I received a beeper cancelling the meeting, and being there, it takes a magazine that affected me by an idiot scene (of those pretentious happy end to but not being able) and I was until the edge of the tears, and then something I commit myself to think, that you think that you are? Somebody needs to you. You are the champion: thus you cannot serve to anything or nobody to him. And the pressure in the chest disappeared. I went out, something made me walk, until I arrived at a place where it apparently passed a manifestation of students, with its masks and sprays of painting; one Mrs. began to cry when seeing that they were going to him to paint his business, and children watched while they had left in the floor his equipment of baseball.

I approached and I took bat. Nobody approached the business of the Mrs. at least, and later it invited a coffee to me. Then I realized that throughout the years, sometimes one is in situations that do not have anything to offer, and is when the downheart comes. Of between all the alternatives, always there is a way with heart; perhaps it is not easiest, but he is that that makes leave the laughter in the eyes, and that makes think us to see of a as it touches to us.

But sometimes it is difficult to see it there although this. When one is in one of those situations that do not have anything to offer, where nothing has sense, is question to hope; but to hope not much, and at the moment at which he must be, or the light of the sun or a moon ray, they illuminate the principle of a way.

While I write, knowing that he wanted to write on the coherence, I see that I am not being very coherent. The actions of the people are governed by many things, but usually we understand the coherence as winning but battles.

NO.

A LOSER CAN GAIN MORE BATTLES THAT A WINNER; BUT THERE IS NO SINCRONIA; THERE IS NO RATE; AND THEREFORE; THERE IS NO COHERENCE.

There are people who think that to win she is to win but battles. But no, it does not serve as anything to win a battle against badly, if in the tactically important point we give the victory him by default, when not being fighting in the correct battles.

The battles of a loser are isolated, the battles of a winner are part of the war that began with the man. For a winner there are victories that are defeats, and glorious defeats.

A soldier does of the place where this its battlefield. Sometimes one knows to where it goes, it knows that the heart wants to go to a place, but... sometimes the place no longer has nothing to offer at the moment. It does not serve as anything to make a trip of thousands of kilometers if it is not hoped to find something that justifies the trip; and when it is arrived at a place, where there is nobody hoping, is single a crossing site, where the magic does not exist, and where single is the defeat for the wolf and the man.

There are battles that do not have to be fought unless they change the circumstances. The opposite is suicidal. If the heart says sees, that we must do? It is question of every one.

They say that the emotional thing is but evolved that the physicist, and that the mind when it combines itself to the heart sees the things as they are; he has a little while in which the senses are like the truth and the fire, can purify or destroy.

And sometimes, those senses, and what could call the sixth sense, the heart of wolf, request us not to go to some place, not to lower to the forest, but to be to us in the hill, thinking, hoping that they change the circumstances, and if they do not change, it will be the moment for looking for new forests. The King of the mountain, the father of Bambi comes to the mind of Walt Disney.

To lower from the mountain to the forest is single for two reasons, to protect or to eat. And single this will eat well when all, because to eat in the days of single hunger it is to eat when it needs somebody for that is not possible to change of mountain; because some find grass until in the mountain, and others can die of hunger if they do not eat of the grass that there is where chose or it was called on to them to live.

A completely brutal history comes to the mind, of the death of the Nagual Andrés. Please, unless this arranging to cry everything afternoon, or the night, brínquela. Whenever I think about that death, the eyes fill to me of tears, and I understand what it called " the blessing that torments ". If it decides to read it, perhaps it is under his own risk, forgets the rest the page, but its death, never will be forgotten. It is between "<**>", and I repeat, by his own good, does not read it if he is not able to support the pain.

< * * >

In an excursion by the mountain range, the Nagual Andrés took to a person of the group whom it loved to learn of the heal grass and others. They left the house of Tonalá about the 8 in the morning, went nothing but this person, her baby of between two and four months, and the Nagual.

The mother of the young one was physically a weak woman; and the Nagual thought that the air of the mountain range could help him. To the return, about the 16 hours, it slipped in a slope, and without wanting she pushed the Nagual, that took to the boy loading, and it fell of the stop of the hill, fact small ball, protecting to the boy.

When the mother began to lower, the Nagual said to him that no, but she followed ahead, and caused deslave, or collapse of a part of the hill, when the dust cloud disappeared, was nothing in the low part of the hill, they lacked trees, and the Nagual.

It went by aid, but at night nobody could give with the hill. At dawn it continued the search, and in the end, Adriana, a young person of 16 who soon would be part of my group, found it. The Nagual reached to see deslave, and it put with the boy to a small cave, in spite of having a broken leg, and of its years (like 80 approx).

The rare thing is that all but were worried about the baby, that by; it will be because to his 80 years it had the force and agility of a man of 50. When they found it, they realized that the hill buried it alive. It always took with himself pencil and paper. And next to its corpse was this note.

" I want that they know that I did not die of the blow. I am in a cave, and my clock says that they are the eleven at night, the one that we called the hour of the wolf. I have committed a terrible error; I did not consider that the air is not sufficient for two people; and to grief that I made things to lower my breathing, the boy cannot do it, and the air reserves are low. That you will arrive and they will remove it from here, but the coherence forces to me to go to me, the heart of the single wolf obeys to the spirit of the man."

And the asphyxia language swallowed, dying so that the baby lived.

< * * >

Then. to grief that sometimes the heart and the body request another thing, sometimes it is not the moment. And that is the moment at which it appears the way with heart. For that reason there are trips that must be made in a while, and not to become in others, but it will arrive the moment at which the barriers of the distance perhaps fall because they are not right to be, but, the distance is not for protecting to the Nagual, but to the port of arrival, the bay.

I know that the Nagual Andrés went to meet with loved his, and that at its moment I will arrive at my bay, and if makes lack, I will die in my own mountain.


Alfonso Orozco - May 1999
ICQ 41907900