domingo, 8 de fevereiro de 2009

That was a good day!

Today dad brought two homeless people to live with us. The day was counting its last minutes before sunset. The chickens were coming home to roost for safety from skunks and foxes. Warm orange gaining grey dashes here and there, was the color of the moment.
“These poor fellows need a home, good food and somebody to chat with. Come, Onaldo, ask them to bless you” Dad called.
“Bênção! (bless me)” I said, shaking their nervous wet hands.
“Deus te abençoe! (God bless you)” They answered in unison.
That was a good day!

Returning, not departing

“Returning, not departing,
My steps are homeward bound;
I quit the land of strangers,
For home on native grounds.”

German Baptist Hymns, 403

The hymn words collected emotions old and new into a single assurance of peace, no matter what. No reasons given, no questions asked, beyond and also within all these human workings of the mind stand the Creator of all. Amazing is the fact that the Hand I feel holding mine here and now belongs to God, the One ever Present. Not a gene in me or around me is empty of meaning, or unable to responding to Love, the organizer of life.
Words are but words and play according to the move within. Short of saying what is really meant and prey of illusions, they only point to it and faint, worn out and empty. So, the Hand, the Peace, the Arrival Complete, is only to be fully lived as life itself, not less than love indeed.

quinta-feira, 5 de fevereiro de 2009

Books to eat

Reading as I was, important I would not miss to be and, the show was on stage every time an audience seemed to form. Big words I pronounced slowly, gluing each syllable in each ear available to make sure they would learn how great I was about to turn as books were turning in.
Mom was not convinced a bit. One day, when I tried to complicate the simplest meaning of life, embroidering them with golden filigrees of dictionary rare words, my mother asked me the definitive questions. “Is it eatable? Does it smell good? Does it beautify the world?” She wanted to know about my thoughts and fancy words.
Since then, this is the rule I use to measure theology, philosophy and speech. Can it be eaten?!
I think Jesus would agree with my mother. When it came to the point when everyone around him expected a profound exposure of his message he washed peoples feet, broke bread and shared wine: “This is my body!”

segunda-feira, 2 de fevereiro de 2009

1972 Nature speaks

1972 Nature speaks
After a long drought carved its ugliness into our souls soil, a storm swallowed up our entire grass roof, erased the bridge which linked us to the world and washed away the manure we had sprayed on the rice field to be.

Happiness as gustative joy
Mom cooked blue sweet potatoes, sugarcane half-meter pieces and small tender manioc roots on hot ashes. The fragrance of such exquisite cuisine covers the whole valley and all creatures gather together for the agape feast. Besides this, mother prepared green mangoes marmalade and pumpkin pieces preserves seasoned with cinnamon and clove.
The smell of this mixture became, since then, the smell of happiness to me.