Not too long ago, a gray day in late December silver , I paced the beautiful hills of Corbières. The winter breeze I nibbled cheeks. The silence rang in my footsteps. A pale sun out of hiding invited me to sit on some stones in the wind. An old oak gave me his trunk as a comfortable backrest.
I breathed the quiet, earth, sky, fill me in peace that emanated from this place. I thought: "The nature sleeps, she is at rest to inflate a new energy that will wake up in the spring, with new promises of colors, smells and delicious fruit ..."
The appearance of a old man pulled me from my dreams. His appearance was very special to me somewhat backward (so to speak: my back prevented me comfortable!) And a vague uneasiness gnawed at one end of the pit of my stomach. The old man put his finger on her lips inviting me to silence. Sitting down at my side, he offered me the wonderful gift of a secret, came the night times. The secret of Winter.
These treasures are like seeds, colors and different forms, each containing a juice, flavor, smell, virtue, power, talent, a particular strength.
... If the man uses the winter time by imitating nature (which is part of course) as a time of rest, hibernation ...
... If he uses the cold to help slow his movements, reduce agitation and restlessness that inhabit ...
... If he scores a pause to observe his habits ...
... If he observes his breath, feeling they are like day and night, like the seasons, hot and cold ...
... If he learns to listen silence in his heart ...
Her intuition will help her choose one these precious seeds. He can look at it, recognize it, try to guess all the promises it contains. He might cherish, coverage as a treasure, it will be like a chrysalis waiting without waiting, who knows that time will come when she spread her wings.
Thus Rights without waiting until the spring to allow new seed to bloom, to be surprised by all the news it contains, it offers them ...
Each year he will choose a new ...
And year after year, these seeds to allow humans to grow like a tree, forcing its roots by multiplying its branches, enriching its flavor and fruit ... "
In a bright laugh, happy, the old man disappeared as he came.
me came when a few snippets of text from Nelson Mandela: "Our greatest fear is perhaps not not be height, but to be powerful beyond all limits ... "I smiled to
few blades of dry grass around me and I felt invaded by a great peace. I decided to listen to the silence that surrounded me as one who stands in the warm inside of me to pick up on the surface of my consciousness a new small seed for the coming year.
Karla
