The air and the ground

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Waiting for the end of the fire, I lived a present without plans or agenda..
The time stopped and the gravity ceased to exist.
I’ve floted in the space and time.
I took a nap in the park and I dreamed.
Navigated by a colourful land.
I’ve dissolved in the grass, I’ve recovered in the air.
I walked on the border of myself and the not myself.
Just breathing and letting the breeze take me.

But not everything is air, I had arrived in San Diego and fell on the ground.
In the land of reality, of the city, the consumption, of comparisons.
The Dólar is higher, I’ve spent more than I thought.
Can I handle it?
Is it madness what I’m doing?
Leave my house, my car, my work and come to the United States to practice Zen?
The mountains became an unreal place, like a cloud.
What place is this? Who am I here?

Leaving the questions come and go. The dust calm down and remember that transitions always require more attention.
I adapt and I readapt, ceaseless process. As the air that enters and goes.
Inspiration and expiration. And return to the present moment.
But do not understand one as good and others as bad. Air is only air, ground is only ground.
And what is life, after all?

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