-[ ‘Why the truth’ English version below ]-

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Solo hay dos tipos de verdad:

La que es relativamente cierta en un determinado momento…

…y la que lo es desde siempre y para siempre.

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La verdad relativamente cierta en un instante de tiempo afecta a los entes, las formas y fenómenos que perduran durante dicho lapso temporal efímero; la verdad de los hombres, las mujeres, sus objetos, sus acciones y sus verbos.

La verdad incuestionable y perenne, duradera desde el más lejano ayer hasta el distante mañana más remoto solo se refiere al hecho que no cambió ni variará jamás por los siglos de los siglos…

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…y ese evento no puede ser nuestro yo.

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A pesar de sentirnos tantas veces incómodos con nuestros modos de vida, nuestra suerte o nuestras trazas, casi siempre terminamos amándonos a nosotros mismos… adorando nuestros yoes respectivos…

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…ofuscados en tratar de preservar su identidad…

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…a la vez de seducidos por las formas que los yoes van divisando a su paso; muchas veces deseándolas, queriéndolas, ansiando su condominio, posesión, disfrute o uso; amándolas u odiándolas; pretendiendo atraparlas para siempre en aras a hacer de ellas un logro, un objetivo, una meta o un rechazo, un objeto más de culto… o de desprecio…

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…aún sabiendo que las formas no perdurarán tampoco en ninguna sucesión eterna de acciones o percepciones.

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La forma surge, muta y finalmente colapsa y se desintegra en un ciclo permanente de metamorfosis tenue, paulatina, insalvable… perdiendo su simetría y su masa, hasta olvidarse del testigo y de sí misma…

…así como el testigo acaba olvidándose de ella.

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De idéntico modo al tránsito mutante de la verdad relativa… el devenir del yo y la varianza de lo cierto respecto a ese yo transmigran en un bucle permanente de advertencia, reflexión y enjuiciamiento…

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…cuando lo cierto es que ni la verdad, ni el yo… ni la noción acerca de la naturaleza real de ese yo permanecen por siempre.

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Nada que no dure eternamente puede implicar ciertamente la legítima y fidedigna verdad.

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Llegó el tiempo de emanciparse del lastre de aferrarse a la idea de una continuidad perpetua y perfecta de cualquier precepto o concepto y aprender a disfrutar la libertad de saberse no atado a nada; ni siquiera a la verdad, ni al yo… o a la presunta veracidad del constructo de ese yo…

…ese yo, igualmente impermanente.

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Ha habido una presencia inmutable antes de la aparición del yo; la hubo y la habrá siempre. Una presencia no requerida de ningún pensamiento, ningún nombre o ningún juicio para evolucionar libre sin experimentar noción alguna del yo.

Dicha presencia puede ser percibida nada más cesar el flujo de pensamientos; el casi constante diálogo interior. Justo al dejar de cavilar sobre cualquier asunto, incluido el propio yo.

De este modo, cuando el pensar se suspende, el yo deja de existir; y la presencia sin yo emerge por sí sola.

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Una vez neutralizado el foco de percepción desde la óptica del yo se accede al dominio de captación de la eternidad permanente…

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…y esa y no otra… ha sido, es y será la auténtica cognición de la verdad perenne.

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why the truth

-[ English version ]-

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There are only two types of truth:

The one which is relatively true at a certain moment…

…and the one that is always and forever.

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The relatively certain truth in a moment of time affects the entities, the forms and phenomena that last during this ephemeral time lapse. The truth of men, women, their objects, their actions and their verbs. 

The unquestionable and perennial truth, permanent from the farthest yesterday to the most remote and distant tomorrow only refers to the event that has never changed or permuted all along the centuries…

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…and that event can not be our self.

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Despite feeling us so often uncomfortable with our ways of life, our luck or our traces, almost always we end up loving ourselves… adoring our respective selves.

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….continuously obsessed with preserving our identity…

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…at the same time seduced by the forms that the selves go sighting in their path; many times wishing them, wanting them, craving their condo, possession, enjoyment or use; loving or hating them; pretending to catch them forever to make them an achievement, an objective, a goal or a rejection… another object more of cult or of contempt…

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…even knowing that the forms will not last either, in any eternal succession of actions or perceptions.

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The form emerges, mutates and finally collapses and disintegrates in a permanent cycle of tenuous, gradual, unsalvageable metamorphosis… losing its symmetry and its mass… until forgetting about the witness and itself…

….just as the witness ends up forgetting about it.

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In the same way to the mutant transit of relative truth… the evolution of the self and the variance of the truth respecting to that self transmigrate in a permanent loop of warning, reflection and judgement…

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…when, in reality, neither the truth, nor the self… nor the notion about the true nature of that self endures forever.

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Nothing that does not last eternally can imply certainly the legitimate and trustworthy truth.

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The time has come to emancipate ourselves from the ballast of the idea about a perpetual and perfect continuity refering any precept or concept, learning to enjoy the freedom of knowing that, one… isn’t tied to anything; not even to the truth, nor to the self… neither to the alleged veracity of that self’s construct…

…that self, equally impermanent.

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There has been an immutable presence before the appearance of the self; there was it and always there will be it. A presence not required of any thought, no name or any judgment to evolve free without experiencing any notion of the self.

This presence can be perceived as soon as the flow of thoughts ceases; the internal dialogue. Just when stopping pondering over any issue, including the self.

In this way, when thinking is suspended, the self ceases to exist; and the presence without self emerges on its own.

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Once the focus of perception from the self’s point of view is neutralized, the domain of capturing permanent eternity is accessed…

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…and that and not another… was, is and will be the true cognition of the perennial truth.

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-( Original images and models from Boris Ovini, Tong Tong, Tara McKinney, Phil Fisher, Alberto Seveso, Emel Karakozak, Martin Janecky, Kristian Liebrand, Adam Martinakis, and… -sadly- …other magnificent unknown photographers, sculptors and artists )-

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Undertow (Genesis)

The curtains are drawn,
now the fire warms the room
meanwhile outside
wind from the north-east chills the air,
it will soon be snowing out there.

And some there are
cold, they prepare for a sleepless night.
maybe this will be their last fight.

But we’re safe in each other’s embrace;
all fears go out as I look on your face.

Better think awhile,
or I may never think again
if this were the last day of your life, my friend,
tell me, what do you think you would do then?

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Chorus:

Stand up to the blow that fate has struck upon you,
make the most of all, you still have coming to you, [or]
lay down on the ground… and let the tears run from you,
crying to the grass and trees and heaven finally on your knees.

Let me live again, let life come find me wanting;
spring must strike again… against the shield of winter;
let me feel once more… the arms of love surround me,
telling me the danger’s past, I need not fear the icy blast again.

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Laughter, music and perfume linger here
and there… and there
wine flows from flask to glass and mouth,
as it soothes, confusing our doubts.

And soon we feel,
why do a single thing to-day,
there’s tomorrow sure as I’m here.

So the days they turn into years
and still no tomorrow appears.

Better think awhile…
or I may never think again,
if this were the last day of your life, my friend…
tell me, what do you think you would do then?

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Chorus:

Stand up to the blow that fate has struck upon you,
make the most of all you still have coming to you, [or]
lay down on the ground and let the tears run from you,
crying to the grass and trees and heaven finally on your knees.

Let me live again, let life come find me wanting;
spring must strike again… against the shield of winter;
let me feel once more the arms of love surround me,
telling me the danger’s past, I need not fear the icy blast again.

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Genesis. ‘And then there were three’ era.

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-( Photoshop edits by Digital Imagine TV )-

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