The Grinch, a fictional, bitter, cave-dwelling, catlike creature with a heart "two sizes too small," lives on snowy Mount Crumpit, a steep, 3,000-foot (910 m) high mountain just north of Whoville, home of the merry and warm-hearted Whos. His only companion is his faithful dog, Max. From his perch high atop Mount Crumpit, the Grinch can hear the noisy Christmas festivities that take place in Whoville. Envious of the Whos' happiness, he makes plans to descend on the town and, by means of burglary, deprive them of their Christmas presents, holiday ham and decorations and thus "prevent Christmas from coming". However, he learns in the end that despite his success in stealing all the Christmas presents and decorations from the Whos, Christmas comes just the same. He then realizes that Christmas is more than just gifts and presents. His heart grows three sizes larger, he returns all the presents and trimmings, and is warmly welcomed into the community of the Whos. (Wiki)
Fairy tales are just like that, a beam of beauty threatened by the pangs of evil vibes. It always ends with Beauty not only beating evilness but even turning it to kindness and joy. Because beauty should be infectious and healing by nature, and because it is the gift we seek most. It is planted deep in the subconscious where we water our dreams and raise our crops either hanged on the trees of our days or melted in the shadows of our tales.
Fairy tales are just like that, a beam of beauty threatened by the pangs of evil vibes. It always ends with Beauty not only beating evilness but even turning it to kindness and joy. Because beauty should be infectious and healing by nature, and because it is the gift we seek most. It is planted deep in the subconscious where we water our dreams and raise our crops either hanged on the trees of our days or melted in the shadows of our tales.
But let’s forget about shadows and fantasies and present our facts under the sun. There are specific infections beauty may fail –and usually fail- to heal. Envy, fear, possessiveness, chauvinism, egoism, selfishness and resisting change. Beauty may heal one. Treat two. Or resist three. But when all the mentioned collectively stab their heartless daggers in the eye of Beauty, that will prove too much to handle. The only hair of hope in a moment like that is to pray the hands holding the daggers to point it toward the swamps of destruction existing in each and every one of us, whether it is envy, fear, possessiveness, chauvinism, egoism, selfishness or resisting change. That’s not the easy way. It is the right way. It’s easier to just let it go. It is easier for you to entomb your roses so no one else can smell instead of chasing its scent to lock it in a bottle. But then expect it to become a feast for the soil warms.
At the moment, FC Barcelona is the victim of clashing egos. Those who consider the club a possession they are not willing to share with others, and those who consider their support to the club as an unquestionable right to get their fair share of that cake. It is a clash between the parents of the princess who love her so much that they want to lock her in her room and the princess friends, admirers, and the life that is waiting her with open arms.
As Gibran Khalil Gibran said once: "Human beings unite in destroying the temples of the spirit and cooperate in building the edifices of the body."
This was the preface of a post about the new regulations of FC Barcelona. I thought it was better to post it alone though, so we free some space for more points in the main post. I will publish that part as soon as possible. Till then -now that we mentioned Gibran, I leave you with the following translation for one of his master pieces. As if he wrote it about Barcelona.
On Children
Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
