I pledge I will tell you about this writer viewpoints and life experiences once in a while.
I was going to say “relevant experiences” but selecting them is just futile and exactly what many of us do rather than just accepting them all. It takes time, but does end up happening. We are the stories that made us be, are we not?
Well, if you are lucky, it is these same stories that actually get it to happen. Accepting is as happiness, a choice. It is opting for freedom. Letting go of you to allow, by absolutely trusting, that you finally become yourself. Yes, the old proverbial faith, in all the contexts you want, can or agree to give to it, but with its defining condition: that you believe upon it to your bare bones and can sustain it for much more time than those you might be out of it. Faith in you, was not a question as a child was it? So, what happened? Exactly.
It would be so good to hear from you as well. These specially digital items dubbed “comments” are for me, nothing less than conversations. They come from you and, if all is fine, my writing has triggered them. And, I will reply to them. Conversations can be swift, do not have to linger, but letting them happen outside ourselves has so many benefits as humanity and thought themselves. I’m listening.
They were wonderfully frightening, dark, deep, humid cellars, with sections behind bars where devilish creatures meandered, – or maybe it was just the owner’s private collection -. Cellars so full of anecdotes and myths soaked in unique aromas, grapes, vineyards, soil, lakes, forests, berries, apples, my grandmother’s soul cooking, long walks with my grandfather, rain, small villages, simple life, hill climbing with my father and the Andes, are all part of the story that defines me. As a touch of less poetic irony for you, so does the Hogwarts style of school I attended to.
As this writer finds its voice, recalling it from these cellars in the tip of the world’s South, that kept priceless meaning for a whole country, for its identity and for me, it had first to stop one of its habits, forever. That of wondering for all these same years whether the wine harvest was going to be the very best one or not. It so happened that life taught me that wine is all about sharing life moments. Enjoying wine with friends, and in a wider sense its ritual of abundance with you the reader, is the only sense and purpose of harvesting and ageing wine! The wine itself is just as good as it could have been. It just is.
So let’s share while life unfolds for us – you and me -, and may we live it with much love.
How I came of age, how I left my child behind, and how in the world did I part from my beloved South into these not so northern vast lands, south of Rio Grande, is something I’ll share in coming posts with you. We might uncover unchartered territories in the process.