Although the transcorridos millenia, we continue opting to Cesar, Pilatos and Barrabs, also in our nights of Christmas. They will have been the magos kings – incense and mirra – responsible for the custom that we keep to offer gifts? What diacho came to make papa-noel in this history? Why it is that people spend in such a way, exhibit in such a way and in such a way eat in the commemorations of this singelo birth arranged to the side of a way? Why not imbuirmos in them of the symbolism of the prespio, now, 2010 years later? Why we do not promote a Christmas that it is worthy: of true congraamento, festividade and sincere joy for the commemoration? A dedicated Christmas to the boy and singelo couple? A Christmas without great slaughters for our abundance; a Christmas where the abraos express true friendship, love, affection; a Christmas where the votes accuse truth and each gift means in fact the souvenir of our affection? We can make of this a Christmas of sincere commemorations. This can be a time of readjustments of behaviors; of order and offers of pardon. Pardon for the not-made facts and; for the said ones, cursed and the not-said ones. Time of refazimento in the walked one, time of bar cleanness: with us (ah! let us not forget in them we), with next the next and not so next ones. It can be a Christmas of reconciliation with that still they share with us the walked one as the millenarian recommendation convokes in them. while we are the way, now, let us remember the aniversariante, we revivamos the truth of its message in the manger.
That in this year our party has not waked up the boy, does not scare it makes nor it to cry. Let us make silence and we reverenciemos its coming. Who knows this boy will still not change history of the humanity in its youth? Who knows will not be messias augured it to it in them to bring the message of the Kingdom and exemplificar in them, without it has said still an only word, that the true goods are not of this world. The true goods and that they are of its Kingdom are very beyond waiting in them. Let us come back our attention to the prespio, the boy and what in the lode to announce, because the hour is to commemorate its anniversary. Let us strengthen us, then, so that, in this Christmas, together to those to who we love, either it, the boy, only homaged.
Then it is this, started the spring At least it is what it says the calendar. A new day amanheceu It was to be a pretty day, of those facts of blue warm and sunny, lightly sprinkled of it I sing innocent of ariscos birds that are jumping happy in the twigs of the flowery trees One day of flowers and kiss-flowers. One day almost perfect, of that people look at, verdinha sees relva, and says: It must have been thus when God created the first day But he is cold and rainy, this day that finished of dawn. In part some has any signal of the flowers of the spring that, according to calendar, already started It is that this day of spring is only plus one day friorento of winter Also in my soul still it is winter. In my soul the spring alone goes to start in the summer, that is when January to arrive It is funny this, silly thing, but depending on when it is started to count all day it is year end.
This year, of a spring to another one, the year passed in a sigh Yesterday still it was winter, before yesterday still was autumn, now already it is spring. The time, over all the time of our life, flies each faster time when it is come close to the end Twenty and four hours are little time for one day. Each day of our lives would have to last a thousand Still well that it does not last. How boredom, that insuportvel weight of if loading, would be a life of a thousand years! Seventy years it is the time of our life. if some, for its robustness, arrive at the eighty, optimum of them of these years she is canseira and boredom It says the salmista (Salmo 90).
All we feel the sensation of that he lacks something to be happy. A sensation of a great emptiness in a life and the soul, the wait of some day to fill it and nor we know with what. He is as if in he lacked a reason to them to live, capable of in feeling them deeply unsafe in our interior world and we questioned because and what we are making of our lives, that we find without very to be felt. He can until seems that the completude feeling is reached in the process of our death, after all, if she was not more necessary strengtheing in them to go behind nothing, we could delivering in them and feeling them complete, as our mission fulfilled with a happy end. Many times the death is in the shown one thus: after a long sigh, the person dies as if it entered softly in a deep sleep, where, finally, it was in peace.
It will be that it really is thus? or is a form of terms the hope of finally filling our deep emptiness? Gangchen Rinpoche said in them on this feeling of incompletude: ' ' Frequent, we feel lack of something almost imperceptible, something that is not mental, intellectual. Even though in the privileged situations, where we think to be satisfied, then this subtle feeling appears of that something in the lack. We have, then, the test of that the material life is not enough, and leave in search something more spiritual. This something that in the lack is to find and to touch our proper potential of peace. The peace is a natural manifestation of the mind through the soul. In the reality we need to stimulate to understand that what we are looking for outside of us if it finds in our interior.