Meditation

I was floating above myself. I was face to face to me, as a perfect reflection without any mirror. I could see my arms out of the blankets and my pleasured smile in my look. I supposedly was not a ghost: my heart beating was echoing through all over the room and the only part of me that seemed to move was my chest. Neither was I a dream, the warm breathing coming from my nose could touch the spectral me. I could not move myself; I could not be anywhere else. What I could only do was staring to me, while the breath in and out became increasingly more intensified and rhythmic. Provoked for something, it had a sequence that followed a flow of positive feelings. Both of me was in a dark room. The body lying down me seemed empty; the head was filled with a blanket of nothing. I would go beyond in my on head, still everything was static, except from the heart beating and the breathing. Even my eyes would not move as in a r.e.m., the sleeping me was in a moment of ecstasy and perhaps almost reaching a nirvana. I could not understand a thing. I gave another glance to my chest and noticed it was moving slower now, as well as the heart beating. Suddenly I felt something pulling me, I could not bear it. It was stronger than I thought it would be. It was catching my heart and trying to take me back for where I belong truly. As me and myself was being away from each other, I could feel I was getting weaker. Far from my own body, I could see the arms and legs moving slow, in a perfect rhythm, combined to the breathing. The head was now trying to turn left and right. And in that final moment I could appreciate my eyes opening for then, me, the soul, disappear.

Um lugar no passado

No momento que eu entrei foi como se milhões de imagens e memórias e lembranças e sentimentos tivessem me atingindo e me levado para um tempo e um lugar que eu já há tempos havia me esquecido. Senti o cheiro do açude. E ouvi as crianças brincando e correndo. Um dia eu era aquelas crianças correndo sem cansar embaixo do sol quente sem medo de cair ou de arder no dia seguinte. Cumprimentei pessoas que eu não via há algum tempo. Primos, amigos, conhecidos, desconhecidos. Meu primo estava sentado na beira do açude como se fosse uma foto de infância da minha cabeça: pernas de índio, os pés descalço e a vara na mão, calmo. Meu pai se prontificou a sentar ao seu lado. Como sempre o fez. Resolvi tirar meu tênis e por indicação do meu primo por os pés na terra para entrar em contato com a natureza. Naquele momento, me senti criança novamente. Peguei uma vara com meu outro primo e enchi seu saco para que ficasse colocando isca para mim cada vez que ela sumia do anzol quando eu jogava na água. Bons tempos aqueles e os de ontem, que se repetiam. Sentada no chão podia tocar a grama, na Grama, e me lembrar de quando íamos pescar naquela mesma chácara ou correr no campinho.