Bideos De Paty Nabidad

The present is' A Gift

yesterday is history tomorrow

mistero è a ma oggi è a dono. Per questo chiama
if present.


Kung Fu Panda - il this é a

dono da te Odd. Mi fido di te, wachijil.

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Vámonos homeland caminar

Come home to walk, I'll walk you

I
lower depths tell me.
I drink your bitter chalices.
I will stand you have blind eyes.
I will stand without a voice in your songs.
I have to die so that you do not die,
to pop your face waving to the horizon
of each flower is born of my bones.


has to be, without question.


I'm tired of carrying your tears with me.
Now I walk with you, flashing.
Companion in your day, because I am a man of the people
, born in October for the face of the world.
Oh, country.
To wet your walls colonels
we need them out of roots,
hanging from a tree in mist acute
violent anger of the people.
therefore ask you to walk together. always
with farmers and agricultural
union workers,
to have a heart to love.


Come home to walk, I'll go with you.

. Otto René Castillo. Revolucion 1944




----------------------------------------- ----------

Which Etf Tracks Nikkei

ch'umilal

4 in the morning. walk in the dark in the mist in the dark. I
foreign in the midst of their safety. los abuelos y las abuelas accept me, I accompany patients and they agree to peace in my presence.
then a clearing. half moon that lights up and you throw them on their knees in front of the rim of the fire is out. 4 candles to begin with. and so I can write.
invocation understand only Tepeu Gucumatz y, but it's enough.
is God is my first Mayan ceremony took it all began.
all begins in the dark - except maybe some love.
begins with the appearance of the void, an emptiness that is full of spirit, an energy difficult to detect, if desired, sought, discovery, met with passion and conviction.
conviction of being on the other hand, the infinite, the very essence of the universe, the total essence of humanity, to be part of the beyond, of its energy particle, its particle size.
elements round us, and we complement them.
fire is lit. is the fire of incense and honey, sacred wood, red candles white yellow green blue and black. and symbols, and completed that same energy in the wind that moves the flame, holding, follows and is followed by light. full energy in the earth - mother - kiss at the end of the invocation of every day.

energy supplemented by water that is being formed when the sugar dissolves. my ajq'ij , my spiritual guide is Doña Julia, K'iche ' of Totonicapan. read my nawales and I find myself. I read the journey so far and that's what. is there. black and white. Nawal
the future, my mission was already there, sensed, felt. I find that are in the right direction. despite the many detours. Nawal my birth is intuitive and visionary, without me I had full awareness. has always been there, here, and I have guided, supported, correct and protected.
glimpse and guess what I came to do and is a wonderful feeling.
there is nothing to understand. You can only hear, receive, untie, release.
because he seemed so difficult. I had never heard the world view. I had read, studied, even schematic ... but never heard.
I move more and more insecure and then included in this totality, the land of men trees sun clouds sunrise candles air stones ... I loro.loro with me. I feel I feel. I feel as if it were inside out. I mirror us. I feel I am.
and the meaning of life takes a direction incredibly clear and bright, smiling. his eyes are closed, and this existence is kneeling in front responding to a fire and directs the sensations.
a ajq'ij puts me in the hands of the candles and incense and tells me pide - ask. I ask the fire and the clarity of the future path, the will to go ahead despite the labor of choices to make, hard to take. I demand a meeting with someone with whom to be harmonic, which give harmony, I definitely love that can love forever. I ask for health for those who love, protection, serenity.
I wonder and whisper to candles to incense and sacred words that you do, then burn and disperse bringing with her my message, because the universe is moving in my favor.

there was nothing to understand. was only to hear .
everything is already here. Our realization is here. our happiness.
is only a matter of equilbrio and harmony. everything is already here.

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Pashapa - tortilla with dulce

the road is a good companion. I am there I feel good with her.

I drove for four hours, spent hundreds of Aldea, bridges, landslides ...
then I got a black pick-up and for another two hours I let my back against the vehicle body sbattesse that climbed up a dirt path and bumpy.

I walked on foot and reached the houses. people.

the road accompanied me, do not leave me alone for a moment and I am grateful. the road link. communication. the road is possible. certainty.

now I have back pain and possibly some bruising at the sacrum. the dust still in his mouth, his hair got tired by the hot ...

but mostly I rubbed my eyes to the beauty of landscapes, from the simplicity of welcome
hands clasped in the embrace that I left there smiling
collected in the memories of those I met in their faces


their wishes in the dignity of life who wish to live.

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that his grace bless us

immersed in the field: again slammed into misery. In short this time, on this trip, is this: there is no notice or warning. I'm here with one foot in the order of the university academic, offices of UNESCO, meeting here know that only clean and organize the other in mud, one of the destroyed houses but also symbolic of the lives of people who have not experienced the tragedy of the flooding, the drama of their daily living at all.

now this drama has the eyes of a child of four months which is called as me. I sit down to earth and the cradle of his mother while he rummages among the dirty feet from used clothes and choose something that can fit them ... this single mom, who has a home, does not even have a bed. This mom is just a story like so many others. This mom gives me her baby in her arms and embraced me at the end to thank me for having cheated on his card: Everyone is entitled to ten of clothes and shoes, but she tried a dress, beautiful, color of cherries and it would be the eleventh

and is in very good

and smiles at me because he'd like,
smiles and quietly asked me the deception. and I trick, I write that you are taking away ten things in the bag even if there are eleven.
a dress less to another mother who will come tomorrow, or next day ...

I save all these mothers, these women.

their first feel nothing, then processes the needless and senseless guilt for too much and my thoughts and feelings are shocked at the clarity in the face of this injustice. makes me angry and I am horrified because I know that we do not save None.

begging because when you live the kind of deception that now this mother has begged me then you are out. cut off from anything that makes sense.
because when you are in the situation of being begged for the kind of deception that now this mother has begged me then it is the same as outside.
cut off from anything that makes sense.
accept such a thing does not make sense: it makes no sense to think of living on welfare, as well as hiding behind anything makes no sense to build solidarity sull'assistenzialismo, exhibiting its too much.

are here with one foot in the order and the other in the mud, but I find it contradictory. I find it stimulating. I find that the baby I cradled in my arms should be the driving force of institutional meetings. His grace should bless us because our feet are in front and custody of his future and the work of our present.

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air density in the mud

Andrea says that the air here is thick and perhaps this is the spell of this place. for the first time in my life I have proof that there really is something magical about breathing in this land ... so far I was, perhaps drawn from my navel left here by the suggestions ...

intensity deep fills and empties at the same time fills the senses awaken, they find the reason for their existence, clear your mind of useless thoughts, binds to the concrete, the spontaneity of things lived day by day, as they come, no expectations, with genuine hope.

shoveling mud out of his house full to the brim with brown water, a man tells me jokingly to be careful not to get when I enter the floor: I am surprised, to mention but a laugh is too much for me to laugh out loud like he does.

in any case, the paranoia in a moment erase ..

remains the concern.
that is impossible to send away for these contradictions are everywhere
a smile in despair
the rain with the sun
rules in the chaos
luxury in poverty
uncertainty
calm tranquility with the precariousness
warm in the cold

markets smells and colors are so numerous and so strong that gets in your nose and eyes to leave them stunned:
spices herbs woven leather creep into the mind and veins transport them together forever blood.
The smell of thousands of Guatemala is pervasive odors

intense woody


spicy hot humid

burning
bulky
forever will be part of that nostalgia every so slight that it suddenly returns to an unbalanced a bit 'the things, gently caress the magnetic attraction of this part of the world.

forest sounds fill the air and confuse the soul: birds, cicadas monkeys ... the Temple 2 at Tikal and close my eyes for a moment to listen to the rest of nature around me, around me I enter and I enter into her, she shakes it together all the noise deafening. leaves and who knows what else moves in there in an impenetrable tangle of branches and trees and shrubs, vines, trees, animals ...

step in the footsteps of the ancient Maya, climb up on top of their majestic temples and it seems impossible that there are more who have lived and walked, studied, prayed, made love and made war between the stones that speak of culture and writing, glories and miseries.
today is forest, but yesterday they were living under this sun, these stars, following the rolling motion of the planets and the Milky Way over their head.
is said to be much more cruel to us, certainly were more focused in their essence in their beliefs, their hopes and their truth.
have left a legacy far wiser than we are leaving us.

these stones that speak of markets and trade, battles and ceremonies, books engraved in time and memory words are passed down from the witness walk, where you can climb up and you can touch, of their size ...

not lost.

words remained and even the ancient rites that have the power to unite in a single breath man, nature, history and future, that run for thousands of years this time round that ends and begins again, and there goes there to trample us to evolve to be even better men.
despite the violence of a severed head on the ground of the juego de pelota
today despite the lynchings in the public squares of offenders deemed by the Community Justice

beyond me how Western society can think of believing in a higher civilization this in the past and present.
to war over oil and money
beat and kill young people in prison while we boast of having a democratic and equitable society in its territory
have a school of torture
shoot on sight for immigrants working for us in the tomato fields
interest only interest
fire on anti-war bombing civilians

planning and implementation of genocide ...

and bog down the possibilities of human expression technology
not care as much as possible of the next planting
dishes in the jungle
invent plastics, Commerce and then go around to preach on eco.

bullshit.
nothing to do with something approaching the wisdom of the Maya.
at least they made them human sacrifices because they believed in something ...

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and then, without knowing how, I found myself in the mud.
and people with nothing.
are those who first had nothing and now have even less of that at all and will continue to have nothing, nothing less ...

messed up my time has run merged with images of homes destroyed by water, with the illusion of seeing where they stood still, those who now are gone, the river sucked.
an expanse of mud and debris and dark spots, splashes of water and earth walls
to show up where you got the power of the destruction, the gratings of the windows
uprooted by the fury of nature and the faces of people angry
:
eyes of the old and past destruction, the patience to start again from scratch;
those of children and the warm smile and the desire to take your hand, you're different and you're there, a symbol of other possibilities;
eyes, hidden by masks to avoid breathing the dust, the men who shovel the mud for days and days and collect the pieces of their lives wet and dirty unfortunate.

there is despair.

the first accompanies the acceptance of anything of anything today.

even humanitarian aid for them. just a little 'luck of'acqua brought there by a group arranged together by chance.

coincidentally, I also have a can in his hand and then another and another. and I'm part of that group.

and by chance I find myself on a battered pick-up and tossed on the rough road and unfit for use and jump down in the rain, get into what remains of houses, plod through the mud with my beautiful white shoes and sink in, smile at people and give them a miserable aid that does not cost me anything. because it is by chance that I'm giving you.

risbatte my life in the concrete. there is no room for thoughts soul today or for the paranoid, the questions about how and why.

there are only images in the mind like the caked mud that we no longer know where to throw. only the rain on my face and my shoes these dirty hands that have touched me as I passed them the bottle and dark eyes deepened with sadness but not veiled with tears rather stressed by the smiles.

I'm not raining today. none of these people is raining on me. I tumble into it.

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me drink

then, at some point, it gets dark and starts to rain.
fortissimo.
although a moment before the sun was shining.

so strong that it seems that the ceiling is down:

is the strength I need.

heaven sends me down to

splashing water and I drink it.

I drink it'll be alright
that this effort will turn into harmony
that will overcome the difficult victory of freedom that this loneliness will
sweetness.

me I drink it.

is the land that welcomes me,

the flavor of the tortillas, which makes me feel at home,

that God is with me,
my life that goes on right.

and even if she does not seem so

Bevo me ...

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Tinimit - El pueblo

agate and pacaya

My people are great.

have to scrub land
hands, feeling

tree in the forests,

revere their rituals ...

as squirrels scamper
for its roads and sidewalks
to taste it,
the simplicity of his greatness.

Before ti nutinimit

Rajawaxik to Malama 'jun

rulewal pa ri uq'ab'

kujaluj che 'ri chuxo'l ka'achelaj

Kojixik'anik them oj k'o kuk

Taq b'e pa, pa Taq uqab'b'e

xa jewa kaqana 'ri uki'al

ri ri unimal laj.

. Humberto Ak'abal.

Joao De Feria De Taxeria

am


tightrope walker tightrope walker air gauge air
and I'm suspended.
not because I do not know why I doubt

not just for the sake of walking in balance
that if you lose you go back in for him.
'm
suspended above my problems to solve on my meetings

over the color of wheat
that even if I do not want me I'm gaining
I love hanging suspended on the links

kisses on data and not on those data too strong

something that gives me the right weight, the shaft well outweighs me, the shoes will not let me slip smooth, the wind
contradicts
and I'm
suspended below the abyss and happiness
above: only the sky that accompanies the moon in the universe because in it I put the desires and secrets of the stars and rockers
opportunities in life and I always suspended

resist only because to touch the soul to touch me and feel the blood
latitudes than they lodge in the folds of the vertigo thoughts
then I let myself shake suspended


way I'll be back up slowly, one step ahead of the next to feel the taste good things that live
the saliva to mix colors and create the most majestic tree that has ever been painted
already hate my smile
and also why I'm

suspended in the midst of tense words between fear and heart
the thoughts and feelings that are of another kind

there is some anxiety that drips onto the cable and tremble
just between the desire to leave and to remain
to laugh and cry and write

not think or feel
fly

be

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suspended breath flea

when you want something all plot the universe so that desire will come true .... but there should not be a doubt as big as a breath of flea ...


Neverland a dream for life. breath of flea.

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distant presences and absences close

need presence with which to hope, pray or do not know maybe

which believe that good things sometimes happen. which at times can end well.

because when someone so close and so far away in the heart of the earth is sick and not
Helen

then you need to hope. do not feel far away. and the only solution is the presence of someone close to earth.
maybe someone who is out of mind. Is close enough to the earth.

meet and know the joy of sharing love it divides the heart in all the places trampled like bread crumbs.
never again be whole: it will be ocean, volcano, the lake will be, will be muggy and mañana at 5 am in front of a door ...
tend to leave people's hearts, bring him forever and then usually found for a while.

is a great joy over the sea and horizon.
will be equal when the suffering and anguish, the fear is concerned about the pain of the remoteness of non sapere non potere niente, di orari disarmonici e ore di notte contate di giorno, ore di giorno contate di notte, nostalgie anticipate e malinconie di ricordi di abbracci, discorsi, sorrisi, vicinanze... allora si avrà la certezza di stare amando.



Stanotte è di lontananza. Ma sono lì.

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at home behind the sun lin ch'ool

I wish I was a neutron bomb, for once I could go off.

I wish I was a sacrifice but somehow still lived on.

I wish I was a sentimental ornamnet you hung on

The christmas tree, I wish I was the star that went on top,

I wish I was the evidence

I wish I was the grounds for fifty million hands up raised and opened toward the sky.

I wish I was a sailor with someone who waited for me.

I wish I was as fortunate, as fortunate as me.

I wish I was a messenger, and all the news is good.

I wish I was the full moon shining off your camaro's hood.

I wish I was an alien, at home behind the sun,

I wish I was the souvenir you kept your house key on.

I wish I was the pedal break that you depended on.

I wish I was the verb to trust, and never let you down.

I wish I was the radio song, the one that you turned up,

I wish, I wish, I wish, I wish,

I guess it never stops.

  . Wishlist - Pearl Jam .

la musica scorre nelle nostre vene, ci dà vita, ci nutre di desideri, di sogni, di risate e sorrisi, di emozioni, di lacrime e di gloria. even when something ends and the music is forever, forever, to remind us of those moments, to collect traces of looks exchanged by the magic and the rhythm of the heartbeat that beats in unison when it gives us the illusion of being there.

Thanks Dave, though, and despite everything.

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There are days when

even if the force of gravity is opposed
there is the whole universe that fans believe in us for us

sustains us

speak in French (!) With the Director Scientific theory and

me

after a long fight

many deviations

many mistakes

after the idiotic choices dictated by the spirit of unnecessary challenges

I find myself as I would like

miraculously the sun kisses my eyes and I'm

me

wanted this from me and I'm trying to do it

because I believe that God wants us all like me today

even if I did not realize

even though I Read the betrayal rather than the liberation

the inability to decide instead of the power to follow its own path

accepting what happens that's always a reason

accepted after the failures that are never failures

trusting life

white clouds play

trees and drawing in charcoal

someone crib for a while (or forever) my fragile

I have less fear, and perhaps it is time to start playing

white clouds

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know why it continues to rain and I'm still listening to Einaudi

( black clouds )

Solitude: you must be very strong

to love solitude, we must have

good legs and a resistance out of the ordinary, you must avoid

colds, flu, sore throat, you should not fear

robbers or murderers, if you have to walk all

in the afternoon or even all night

we must do it with ease, to sit there;

especially in winter, with wind that pulls the wet grass, and with

Pietroni between the dirt wet and muddy;

there really is no comfort, no doubt about it,

than to have everything in front of a day and a night

no duties or limitations of any kind.

Sex is a pretext. For many the encounters

- and even in winter, the streets abandoned to the wind,

between stretches of dirt against distant buildings,

they are many - are just moments of solitude;

warm and alive is more body friendly

that anoints the seed and if leaves,
colder and deadly around the beloved desert;

is it fills you with joy, like a miraculous wind,

not the innocent smile or troubled arrogance

of the one who then he goes, he carries with him a youth

tremendously young, and this is inhuman,

it leaves no traces, or better, only one trace

which is always the same in all seasons.

... Remain intact all the things

and you can take half the city, I do not find yourself more;

the act is performed, its repetition is a ritual. So

loneliness is even greater if a whole crowd

waits his turn: a growth in the number of disappearances

-

the leave is flee - and the following looms over this

as a duty, a sacrifice should be made to

death.

... then for a breath

not scream or cry;

and that would be awesome if it was only just

fatigue, and perhaps

a bit 'of hunger. Enormous, because it would mean

that your desire for solitude could not be more pleased

,

and then what to expect, if that is not considered

loneliness

is the true solitude, one you can not accept?

No lunch or dinner or satisfaction in the world

equal to an endless walk through the streets of the poor,

where you should be unfortunate and strong, brothers of the dogs.

. Verses of the will - Pier Paolo Pasolini.

Sneezed And Hurt Neck

Love is not here we'll have

clouds of breath congealed

crowding on the eyes

in a tired scroll

of shadows and memories

a party,

a rustle of skirts,

a look,

two eyes with dew,

a smile,

a woman's name:

Love

not

It

We .

. Peppino Impastato.

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in less than a stone in the heart and the water caress me and caresses the sky to say that all these thoughts can be washed away with a caress

with a little 'lightweight fabric

take shape even if I do not understand and do not really want me enough to stay

knotless rootless
over time

believe that there is no time
those hours and days the past months are no longer thought

those hours and days of the months to come
are already somewhere

that what counts is all here in which I find
because each of those here will have a reason

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although

memorize the path home

imagine someone watching me from afar

'll take you with me here

're away but I feel you are here

even if you do not want to hear

even if they are injustices against compromises of the soul of serenity

decide fatigue

confidence

'll take you here

even if you believe they do not want

even though I know that maybe I do not want

who may not love myself enough

I'm picking up the crumbs

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vibration del'anima

touch shake ' that creates the soul melody of my life
meeting faces, tell stories and chew the words together with a passion.

today is a day of rain with the sun: rare these days,
in which the sensations that pierce the heart
collect all they can find

the past life memories
wanted and dreamed that life lived

which are
close so close that my idea overlaps almost perfectly the reality and the rest to look



satisfied smile for a moment happy

tomorrow I will have time to think about what is lacking
feel stronger tomorrow maybe those absences

but not today
today
smile and hug someone special, and perhaps taken for lost and found
run after the words that come out from the mouth of the abundance
enthusiastic
driven by the light that emanates from the awareness of being
as they are.

One Johnny Cash - in honor of Christian

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steps

I miss Caesar.
Here we discuss the language of words picky, as you used to do ... to create a new culture must start from a new language, give real names, do not use false subject, put in an active way, using logic, epistemology, anthropology and ethics to serve, based, true to ourselves, fair, serious, precise ...
But here I do not know ... indeed not here.
I know you're there and you will be angry because that plays in this first meeting there is no room for ideas of all. Should be that you pay attention at all, discuss together, including a time of space to create opportunities, the ability to place themselves in an active way. You had imposed such things.
There was no possibility of not having opportunities.
We were giving the power in their hands. And we held so close, able not to abuse it because the way you would imply democracy.

E 'on a Saturday morning, intellectual work, passionate. To "agree on the language."
But nothing to do with Saturdays Popular University Jose Marti. I miss Caesar. I want to ask advice, to quarrel with you for these wicked choices I made, which I believe only to the extent that my presumption leads me to believe they can change things. And it's not your fault, because that power everything you have taught me too ...

Now I know you're here. Are you here by me and I am living contradiction in terms, the presumption of liability against change, crazy thoughts that run as lottery balls from the air against mixed inability to communicate, to say what I want to discuss ...

Today I give up. Perhaps it is not even time. Too early to expect to impose myself on abuse of power of individuals as those who surround me on this table ronde .. Needs to be done one step at a time, you have taught me this.

I have a lift now, already be over. Too bad, missed opportunity. But I do not have the right tools and I have to create them.
I have to learn.
I have to master. I
to collect and recirculate.

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I choose the slow movement of the breath of sleep

time rested

time of the day sun-reddened cheeks that stuns and

Time sweaty fingers covering the pencil and think to mix the words

time tasted, then chewed, tasted

not choose the time, the circle of life that comes back and does not lose

exchange for what I create live

I stop in moments of closed eyes and pick this

to realize to live

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capable of moving

Hello.

Those who we spent together were very intense moments.
the Diary, already on the pick-up that took us to prison, I have heard all of us. All
.
And especially in times of greatest weakness, in front of a door that was the boundary of our world suddenly reduced to 4 meters per second, you were all with us.
I saw in the first round to console me and then Mark and Matthew.
I saw as we accompanied the interrogations, always sitting close to us.
I saw you sitting on the ground with us, telling us of this young and extraordinary organization.
You have shared with me the food we got, good or bad it was. A
took turns to drink water, because all they had at least a sip.
Have you made the same uniform, and we laughed.
We smoked endless cigarettes, locked in there but free.
And even before we told the whole war, the real one.
Together we have treated the wounds of innocent people who can only suffer this tragedy.
Together then we were transferred to Kabul, leaving the heart in our hospital Lash.
And still together We met another prison, other guards, other interrogation.
Together we were on the balcony of the prison commander, free but still very scared.
Together we have an endless journey, exhausted but happy.
And together we will continue to do what we do and that is a must do if we want to call us 'human beings'.
And I know there will come a time when each of us will also lick their own wounds, which for the time being anesthetized by the extraordinary love that surrounds us.
But I'm not afraid.
you are there, from years.
And Tere has taught me that there is an enormous courage and dignity to ask for help.
not only in giving.
And I promise that I will if I feel that the blow was too much for a simple man like me.
Meanwhile, I hope to hear everyone, absolutely everyone, hug from my heart.
From soul to soul.
Thanks.
Infinite thanks.

. Posted by Matthew Dell'Aira page fb Emergency.

I struggled to finish reading (Aloud for the sake of sharing), this letter ...
the end my voice broke in her throat. and indeed I am, just us that we have to thank. to believe again. to believe that a new language and a new culture can exist, despite, in spite of everything. all bad, death, frustration, uncertainty, violence, weakness. despite the fact that we are less and less "human beings".
thanks because I was very moved because I felt part of a different humanity, pure, decent, human, imperfect performance fears, and made the perfect opportunity to help and ask for help, a united humanity, committed, glorious, a humanity whose tenderness can be touched with the fingertips and to join hands and embrace.

. our heroes. Crowd Jack's speech to the manifestation of Emergency

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Used

I dedicate this song

every woman thought of as love

in a moment of freedom

known that just

there was no time and was worth

of losing more than a century.

to imagine that almost

've seen her in such a hurry to pass

from the balcony to a secret beyond

you like and remember the smile

that made you and that you've decided the

in a void of happiness.

the traveling companion

his eyes the most beautiful landscape

fans seem shorter the path

and maybe you are the only one to understand

and do not follow it down without having

touched his hand.

To those who have already taken

and living hours

disappointed with a changed man now too

you have left, needless madness

see the bottom of melancholy

a desperate future.

Images care for a few moments

you will soon be a distant crowd

overridden by a memory closer

for little happiness return

is very rare that you'll remember

episodes of the journey.

But if life stops to help

is more difficult to forget

than happiness glimpsed

of kisses that you have not dared to

opportunities left to wait

eyes never meet again.

Then in moments of solitude

regret when it becomes habit

a way to live it together, we cry

lips absent

of all the fine passing

that we could not hold back.

. The passers-by. Fabrizio De Andrè

I wish there was, here inside of me. but maybe if there was already over and I'm just passing through ...