Surely, with as much activity, not stopping nor a minute and worried to satisfy all our desires that we turned into needs, we are being killed. We need that calm glance, rested and letter, but with great calmness to all whatever she also occurs in our interior and to ours around.

To be conscious of the thoughts that go and come, of our feelings, not infrequently found, and to celebrate we are living that them peacefully, can become inexhaustible source of happiness.

While we contemplated the grass that grows slowly and calm or we admired the Majesty and the force of any millenarian giant tree, with the fragile and delicate flowers that grow on their feet and of so short life, we can occur to peace when remembering the fugacidad of the things and the people without troubling, because nothing to us is permanent, neither the more important, nor independent of the rest of the Universe to which we belong.

With the years and some more drops of wisdom, as they spend the years, I reaffirm myself in the idea that the poor man to be human that we are, restlessness plenty, dominated by the fears and the doubts and running of here for there since is born until it dies in search of one tried promised happiness and of an eternity, good part of the real and tangible present of every moment is lost. It does not realize that he himself, with his form to be, to live and to think, becomes about his own hell, sky or purgatorio.

Reason why respecta, every time it comforts to me plus thinking that my main project cannot nor must be other that “to celebrate the life� at every moment of my existence, of joyful form, conscious and disfrutadora. I by hand do not know a more real, tangible good and that the minute in which I am.

It less and less matters to take reason to me, to have more things or to satisfy whims. The fugacidad and transitoriness of the human existence, that nobody can deny reaffirm, me in the idea that occupying in enjoying and celebrating my own existence to me and to contribute to improve the existence of the others, it is sufficient reason to be and to feel to me happy.

Tender Bernabé
Written psychologist and