Today, rummaging in the trunk of memories, I found this video, which collects part of that weapon loaded with melancholy beauty, which in the end, I am convinced, it does not stop being a season like autumn.
In the great journey of life, once crossed the threshold of the mythical platonic cavern -today, I continue to wonder, if Plato did not plagiarize the invited friend Parmenides- and reincarnated in the world of the idea, possibly the influx of the autumn cause that Jungian concept known as shadow-in which we lock our own miseries like a time bomb that we project on others-leads us to reflect, and for a moment, reminds us, observing that explosion of beauty that always precedes to a gray ending, that life, as Calderón said, as well as ephemeral is just a frenzy, a dream, an illusion ...
And at the end of the Camino, it is good to know, in short, that dreams are dreams.
Yes, friends: autumn is a weapon full of melancholy, which possibly reminds us, year after year, that we are all born into the world as Fools, predestined to become Magicians someday.
Meanwhile, it is well worth bearing in mind the wise words of Rabindranath Tagore -'it is not the hammer that leaves the pebbles perfect, but the water with its dance and its song'- and remember, foreseeing its proximity, a place that the Autumn makes it even more special than it already is by birthright: the Monasterio de Piedra, in the province of Zaragoza.
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