As humanity, we come to be transiting... in gorges that compress, oppress, impede... reward and punish.

Gorges that, “supposedly”, passing through them, the being will find itself liberated, motivated, encouraged and enthusiastic... for having passed the test.

But the test, the tests, have become... habit, custom, laws, norms: "normalities".

And living in that gorge implies mistrust, infidelity, insincerity...; "appearances".

So much has been carved out of that gorge that, the desire to get out of it, to open up to another reality, does not seem to exist. They seem to be fables or fantastic stories.

In this gorge, one lives and progresses, in a manner of speaking... but, with the rules of narrowness, rigidities, impositions... and institutional lies.

The Praying Call warns us that the position that each being occupies, in global humanity... is in a time of suffocation, of narrowness, of tightness.  Beings are trying to stand out without progressing. Excelling over each other, without hesitation.

A permanent blockage in the flow towards the valley of prosperity; towards the open field of forests, jungles and deserts.

The simile is easy to grasp, when we contemplate coexistence in a big city, where everything is compressed, oppressed and... desperate.

The species was looking, within those narrow places, the treasures, the secrets, the mysteries... that seemed to be locked up there, cared for and trapped.

And they identified the passage, with difficulties, with impediments, with risks, with damage, with pain... as the irrefutable proof that progress was being made, that they were managing to discover, learn and know... about the unfathomable mysteries.

The high walls of the mountains, which formed the funnel -the narrow part of the gorge- made some people to look up... and even try to climb up. Useless.

They pierced the gorge even further to extract resources and remedies... in such stagnation. And humanity became chronic, repetitive!...

It imagined sighs!... through the walls, but did not project itself towards the exit.

It was entrusted to its overcoming, to its capacities, while it became waterlogged or dried up...; and it delved deeper into its own nature, isolated from its surroundings, considered as something to exploit or an enemy to be distrusted.

Yes! Depending on how deep you were, sometimes you could see a star... or who knows!

There... -there, here-, in this description is the species.

This is how the Prayerful Call reflects our position.

It warns us -from the Creator Mystery- about our resources, about our heritage, about where we come from... which is to fly into the vastness; which is not to go deep into the gorge; but to go out into the vastness; which is to contemplate the open sky; which is to breathe without permanent sighs; which is to contemplate... the Infinite; not to remain trapped in the secondary things, in the immediate, the right away, the now...

It is... swimming...; swimming as "flight" in which water is the wind; in which water is love, is sustenance.

And when the rains come... and the gorge is flooded, it is time to swim and swim to get out, to discover the way out; to be aware of getting out of this 'stuck' and compressed existence. It is the moment to fly... swimming in the bosom of Love.

And this is how it is possible... that the consciousness of the exit from the compressed compression can be realised. Because today it is as if obstructed; it even has a "stop": forbidden to cross this sign; forbidden... forbidden... forbidden. How many "forbidden" are there?

There are so many that, it is not possible to realise that you are in a compressed and... legalised gorge. What's after that stop?

And the being of humanity strives for its potency. And when incapacity arrives, it has no more memories, no memory of its ancestral connection with the thread of the stars, with the dewdrops, with the eternal dawn...

And in this monumental blockage... information does not fly. Information contradicts each other. There is deception, manipulation and control. You can't go beyond that limit.

And so, the being is condemned to its laws, to its rules, to its science, to its philosophy, to its belief, to its religion...; to its small belonging in the ghetto of the crossroads of not knowing how the entrance was, and if... is there a way out...?

The Praying Call calls us, like water, like dew that in any circumstance pours out, to swim in Love... that is the winged wind that brought us to this paradise of the Universe… and which we have taken over. Instead of letting ourselves be served by it, we have taken hold of that winged loving wind that brought us. We have hijacked it... and we barely walk or crawl. Sometimes we swim, but soon we drown. And flying is an imagination so... increasingly sparse exhausted by oblivion.

Yes, the outlook is... somewhere between distressing and anxious; without adapting, desperate, with one on top of the other, as if there was no room...

Oh!… But the Praying Call insists on our swimming waters, on our awakenings of "loving-dawn", on our liberating consciences, which timidly... hardly express themselves, but they are there. They are there when we cry, when we dream, when for a moment we sing... as an attempt to fly...

Yes: singing becomes inspiration, sigh... and propulsion.

And likewise, each word, when felt, springs -like a spring- from the heart, in which we dive and swim to escape from so much oppression, so much repression, so many postures, so many impostures!... that are imposed on us, that we impose on ourselves, that we justify... without realising that we are robbing ourselves of our essence. Because, by possessing it, by exchanging it, we establish pacts of possession, of dominion!

And Creation was not made by dominating. Creation was not made by possessing. Creation did not come into being by usurping. Rather... it expressed itself in an infinite... long!... and eternal flight of luminaries, of obscurities...

And it's there, and it continues! It's not something that was...

And that "knowing" must inspire us, from the gorge... to the sigh of our essence, to the recollection of our innocence, to the awareness of our reference, to the awakening to our liberated nature.

Thus, to take the leap of signing, of flight, of swimming over oneself. Swimming and getting out of that narrowness... in which the mind, feelings, actions have become...

Getting out of that permanent burden of prejudices. Entering into the mist that opens up to the light... in which the senses transcend, see, hear, taste, smell the Eternal, caress the clouds...

And that doesn't stop us from walking, from being curious, from relating, from discovering that we are in permanent contact with everything that surrounds us…

It is... it is time -the Prayerful Call tells us- to aspire to liberate ourselves.

The crowded narrowness oppresses us, depresses us, despairs us...

There... there, there!... there it is, waiting, the open funnel ahead.

The campaigns that hold us back, the threats that overwhelm us... must be put in reference with our essences, with our true loves!, and then they lose, they disappear, and we open up like the water lily: we spread ourselves in the aroma; we offer ourselves in beauty...

And our words become song, "enchantment"...

Yes, it's true: from the gorge, the whole thing looks like a fairy tale. It looks like a story... like other stories!

But it's not history!... It's a future present!... It is a past that was not realised....

And now it calls us, the Creation, to continue, to carry on!... For perhaps we have not yet begun... in the dimension that corresponds to us. That initially we encapsulated ourselves in the wonder of what we saw, and we took hold of what was perceived.

And so, we grew up in narrowness...

We ourselves built the gorge.

It was not a trap of fate. It was not a test of our capabilities. It was the expression of selfishness, of impersonation... and of power.

Let us become aware of our waters. Let's take awakenings of our breaths, swimming and flying!...

And to shed our shells of security... that prevent us from imagining, fantasising, amplifying our senses!... to feel united to Eternity, to perceive our vibration of the Eternal: which gestated us every day and which loves us at first light.

"Immediately" is already late. "Later" is too late! Nor is "Now".

We are!... And in the awareness of all this, we act.

And we become... we become an echo!... an Eternal Act of Love.

"And we echo an Eternal Act of Love".

And that is the consciousness that projects us!; that makes us swim and fly without limits.

Nothingness is the best companion on the journey. From it always comes what is necessary.

***