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... because you rock me a thousand hugs and tenderness, making my mind a calm sea ...

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the black spot sea search

Once, a teacher made a small black spot in the center of a nice white sheet of paper and then showed it to students.
"What do you see?" He asked.
"A black spot!" They replied in chorus.
"You have all seen the small black spot that is small," said the teacher, "and nobody saw the big white sheet."
Life is a series of moments, the true success is to live them all. Do not risk losing the big white sheet to pursue a small black spot.
Because the big white sheet of paper is your island, and is right in front of you!
So are the men: only able to see the black spots, do not realize the huge white sheet that is their life. All of us should be, however, aware that, despite the black spots of our existence, there, albeit hidden, a nice white sheet, a symbol of life, which is always worth living.

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No need to look for in temples and sacred scriptures, the divine
is expressed in simple, everyday things. And here lies the
way, the truth of existence. We are so much closer to
Way, the Tao or God, as we live "experiences,
natural.

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observe these days the images of the streets of Madrid and Barcelona were filled with crowds dressed in red to celebrate the victory of the world brings to mind the piazzas of Milan, Rome, Naples colored blue four years ago.
The same burst of enthusiasm, the same
irrepressible joy,
the same desire to celebrate,
the same desire to feel and hug me and you but not us.
It does not matter if the reason is absolutely surface
's okay if it's just an irrational moment,
do anything the next day if everything is still equal,
bills, work, shopping, books ...
does not matter because this is a reflection of a dream.
The dream in which the party does not last one night but always
the dream in which embraces emotional but not exploit authentic
the dream in which collapse the barriers between you and me and remains our only joy, the dream
where the enthusiasm is not for a football game but something real, something that touches
life and become a party.
And just thinking about his eyes twinkle,
because we realized the night of the cup, but it remains a
dream for the rest of his life.
and then they emerge within you that first strangled cry, a cry that calls
more
that the dream becomes a promise and the promise becomes a reality.

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generous Tree, Shel Silverstein

There once was a tree who loved a child. The child came to visit him every day. Collected with the leaves make them into crowns and play king of the forest. He would climb the tree and attached to the branches swayed. Ate the fruits and then, together, trees and children playing hide and seek.

When he was tired, he fell asleep in the shade of the tree, while the branches sang the lullaby.

The boy loved the tree with all his little heart.

And the tree was happy.

But time passed and the child grew.

Now that the baby was large, the tree was often alone.

One day the boy came to the tree and the tree said:

"Come, Boy, climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat my fruit and play in my shade and be happy. "

"I am now too big to climb trees and play," said the boy. "I want to buy things and have fun. I want some money. Can you give me some money?".

"I'm sorry!, Replaced the tree," but I have no money. I only leaves and fruit. Take my apples, Boy, and go 'to sell in town. So you will have money and be happy. "

so the boy climbed the tree and gathered all the fruits and carried them away.

And the tree was happy.

But the boy stayed a long time without returning ... And the tree was sad.

Then one day the boy came back, the tree shook with joy and said

"Come, Boy, climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and be happy. "

"I have too much to do and do not have time to climb trees," said the boy. "I want a house to keep me warm," he continued. "I want a wife and children, so I need a home. Can you give me a house?".

"I have a house," said the tree. "My house is the forest, but you may cut my branches and build a house. Then you will be happy."

The boy cut all the branches and carried them away to build a house.

And the tree was happy.

For a long time the child was not. When he returned, the tree was so happy that risucire hardly speak.

"Come, my child," she whispered, "Come play."

"I'm too old and too sad to play," said the boy. I want a boat to escape far from here. You can give me a boat? ".

" Cut my trunk and make a boat, "said the tree." Then you can go and be happy. "

So the boy cut the tree trunk and there was a boat and sailed away.

And the tree was happy ... but not quite.

after a long time, the boy came back again.

"I'm sorry, my child," said the tree, "but it remains nothing more to give you. I have no fruit."

"My teeth are too weak for apples," said the boy.

"I do not have branches," continued the tree, "You can not swing."

"I'm too old to swing on branches," said the boy.

"I do not have the trunk," said the tree. "You can not climb."

"I'm too tired to climb," said the boy.

"I'm sorry," sighed the tree. "I wish I could give you something ... but I have nothing. I'm just an old stump. I regret so much ...".

"I do not need much now," said the child. "Just a quiet place to sit and rest. I feel very tired."

"Well," said the tree, raddizzandosi as he could, "well, an old stump is what it takes to sit down and rest. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rested. "

So did the baby.

And the tree was happy.

This evening sit in a quiet corner and helps your heart to thank all the "trees" of your life.

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actor without a dream stage

incredible strength, amazing energy
,
you've got it in, you
boils, upsets you, makes you imagine, and dancing

stronger the wind,

and singing louder than the sound , and laugh

stronger the hurricane,
you feel one with the world and can plunge from the heights

and walk among the stars,
fly among the trees,
and embrace the soul of people. Then a shock and you're
sucked into a vortex,

feet chained to the ground and your face in front of a mirror.
You look, you look, your heart beats
The energy and enthusiasm, but
around you all is silent.
As a musician with no instrument, like a juggler without
skittles,
as a player without the ball,
as a teacher without students,
as an actor without a stage.
It is all in and not know it come out.
you see that there is consolation, but
assails you a question:
will be maintained or will remain only a promise?