We are in a time when dialogues become difficult to establish; when listening becomes deafness; when words become noises and, consequently, coexistence becomes friction.
It is not the best way to be. It is not the best way to be 'living-together'.
Thus, the result is... sustained violence, prejudice, condemnation, punishment. Always in preambles to wars and peace, to accumulation of new conflicts...
And it extends into political, social, cultural, emotional, rational, spiritual, religious, idealistic dialogue.
It seems that a shadow settles over the luminous, that is transcendent living, transparent living, sincere living.
The Prayerful Call places us in this scenario, which at times is forgotten. And by not being aware of it, disagreements are arranged.
If, on the other hand, we are aware of this time of passing, we will be able to sharpen our hearing, pay attention to our vision, our taste, our smell, our touch. Making our perceptions experientially felt. And 'dare' to manifest them, with the gentle respect with which a cloud insinuates itself over the blue of dawn; with the evident smile of the beginning of the rain; with the sonorous prayer of the rooster’s crowing.
And in this way, we will enter into other perspectives: those that identify our nature of humanity, which is being forgotten, left behind, and this amalgam of interests, domains, controls is being created... that are not attitudes of our intimacy, although progressively the majority is infected by the conviction that we have come here, to this place in the Universe, to succeed, to win, to possess, to control, to dominate...
And we have come, because we have been brought!... by a mysterious action of mysterious imagery. And we have been brought to bear testimony of our unknown origin.
And that testimony is expressed through the curious sensitivity of our senses, which leads us to search. And the one who seeks is innocent, ignorant. Consequently, it shows itself without any setbacks, without any prejudgement. It shows itself with the inevitable smile of the child who is surprised.
And we have never stopped being children. We are children, young people, teenagers, adults, and elderly... all at the same time. It is true that some elements predominate more than others, some characteristics more than others. Yes. But no... -in that innocent and ignorant curiosity of searching- there is no spare time. As soon as we are playing, just for the sake of enjoyment, as we are meticulously disassembling and assembling... and being amazed by the sunrise and sunset.
But it happens, when we are not like that -that is our nature-, the being feels known, "knower". Known and knower... of what? And each one wields its reason, like a tizona sword ready to establish its conviction.
There, one ceases to be nascent, growing, mature, long-lived, eternal. It becomes out-dated, limited, obsessive, compulsive, dominant.
A position in which grief and pride compete, as convenience.
That is not our fight. Because we are not contentious! ¡Because we don't know who we are! We delimit -by dominance and power- definitions, but we don't really know.
And in this how, "without knowing", we can promote all our levels. And not to leave the game, smile, curiosity, surprise, the experience... All at the same time.
Because, without knowing, I'm discovering what I didn't discover yesterday. But tomorrow will be different... because I will be different. Because every 'Dawn in love’ I return to life... in being; although I have never left it in my being.
One might think that these are disquisitions of words. No.
We still need words. And placed in their due condition and necessity, they are the ones that amplify our consciences and make them.... -the consciences- make them clear, ready, available, fearless! With testimony. And... brave.
Why? Why do we lose the courage of the child, the pubescent, the young person... that usually comes forward? Why...? Lack of muscle, lack of tendons, or conditioning of conscience that classifies the being in its age? How awful!
And precisely, precisely... detached from ego, detached from self-importance, as the being passes, it must be more courageous, because it knows something -something!-. And it knows -without knowing- where to exercise courage: that, when it is truly transcended, it knows it can exercise it at any time and in any place.
We are conscious we are born because we are loved by that Creator Mystery. The Creator Mystery. And we exercise in that love that we feel, when we connect, when we contact the living.
And that gives us the encouragement, humour and pleasure... to feel fused, attracted!
And what we are attracted to, we are also attractive. Consequently, in this disposition, the being is fused with the created, with everything! There is a force of attraction. For within infinite diversity there is absolute communion.
"Infinite diversity - absolute communion".
And this makes us love... mysteriously, as the Mystery that maintains us.
And it excites us, unsettles us, it promotes satisfaction, care, joy, confabulation, fantasy...; that instant in love!... which is eternal, but when possessed it dissolves.
And that is when the 'lack of-love' takes place: that mess of denials, complaints, moods, discomfort... in which we finally arrive to the idea that everything is rubbish.
It is the supreme expression of the ego-idolatry of being. Upon discovering that it is incapable of possessing what happens and where it happens, despair floods it, and everything becomes horror... lack of love.
And in that "everything is awful!", "everything is horrible!", "everything is terrible!" -lack of love-, hope becomes the ugliest flower in the field. It is not allowed to grow... or it is swept away with the plough, that's what a plough is for! Soil has to be moved, ¡to subdue the earth!
Today we know that this is not the way it should be... -but this has to be said in a low voice-... because ploughing implies dominion and power.
And just as the earth is subdued and wounded, so the same sense applies to the living thing.
When the being becomes sedentary and a peasant farmer, he forgets -and so he brings out his plough, his sickle and his hammer- he forgets that he experienced... passing through forests, through valleys, through mountains, without ploughing, without planting, and there was sustenance.
But lo and behold, possession becomes the owner, master of doing. And we come to these times in which any harvest is possible at any time. Seasons are virtual: light and temperature are already managed so that the docile seed can be deceived, and feels -even- free.
It is an example, but it helps us to incorporate in some way -undoubtedly already mysterious- what should be permanent: that hope.
Incorporate it as... an expression of that Loving of Mystery; of that surprise that already the awakening of each morning brings.
If in consciousness one waits... one will always see dawn.
If rush eats you up... and you don't know how to wait, the night will swallow up your fantasies... And, when dawn breaks, you will have cried so much that you will not be able to see the light.
That being... waiting, is the initiation of hope.
And to the extent that this 'hope' becomes conscious, daily, in whatever happens, the being will have resources available; some immediate, some circumstantial, and others long-term.
Radical convictions that are prevailing in the current transition are solid consciences... that strike.
And it turns out that our consciousness is vaporous, transparent, wide, ductile, flexible…
Yes, and that is what allows us a renewal.
That is why each being must continually tell itself that it is not a fickle consciousness, a stony ball, but rather a cloud that moves modifying its shape, its colour... according to the mystery of the air, of the light... and other mysteries that envelop us.
Thus, if I am a mysterious consciousness, I will be in the curiosity of the Mystery and I will be in that respectable ductility, which does not admit confrontation or controversy, but rather a common search, a complaisant being for what is being achieved, for what is being incorporated, for what is being discovered.
As cohabitants of the fluttering of the wind, the tide of the water and the clarity of the light... we become converts. Yes, we become a verse...
And so, we can have a 'con-versa-tion' without impediment.
Over life gravitates an eternal dawn; a dawn that melts the tide, the fluttering and the light...
And it gives us eternal and infinite consciousness, when our pupils can no longer see and darkness floods us.
It is the dawn of the immensity where we are. It is the dawn of the infinite that covers us.
And so, with each of our conscious heartbeats, we awaken to the joy of living, of feeling, of being, of being excited to be!... Being an expression of the Creator Mystery.
There is nothing more.
There is nothing more. It is all!
And thus, hope becomes Providential. And the miracle, the miracle becomes ‘evident'. And it arrives with its original smile of chance, of luck, of coincidence.
"Sertar": yes, it would be the sound and the word that indicates to be and being.
To be that instance of an eternal dawn, and being in a discovering as an expression of Mystery.
 "Tizona" is one of the swords that tradition or literature attributes to the Cid Campeador
 Sertar would be the fusion of the Spanish words “ser” and “estar” which mean “to be” and “being”.