Start writing. Right now. Wherever you are.
A voice sounded in my head.
What is happening at this perfect, impermanent moment? The minute I start writing, it changes.
Like the sight of the mountain in front of me. At one moment completely clear, immense, immovable. The next, invisible, fully covered by clouds and fog.
Impermanence is the only certainty of life.
And that’s what makes it worth living. It makes me value it and not take it for granted.
It seems that living in nature makes time disappear. There is no time in nature. Only nature’s cycles. In weekdays, these cycles are usually interrupted by human noises. A radio playing vallenatos. A stonecutter’s constant ticking echoing in the air. A truck that is taking away some cows from a neighbor’s farm… to the slaughterhouse or to another farm. In my dreams they will go to a sanctuary where they can live free, fearless, happy.
At that same instant, a bird sings a very special song. After weeks of searching in the trees, I’m finally able to see who this bird is. Intense yellow with black wings. My mind judges: ¡beautiful! I start imitating his (or her?) song. She (or he?) replies back. One of my favorite hobbies. Whistling back to birds. As if I was one of them.
I’m getting slowly wrapped up by nature’s cyclical times. It is hypnotizing for a person born in a big city, who lived for six years close to nature in Costa Rica, then back to Mexico City and now at the countryside of a small town in Colombia.
Always looking forward to be in nature. The time came.
But, what is time? At this point in my life, it doesn’t resemble to my past perception. Time is now. Past and future only exist in the present.
And I can be wherever I dream to be.
But it feels right to be here. It feels right to WriteHere. Now.