DIARY OF A SON OF GOD

ANA AND THE NEEDLE

Things happen the way they do because power is not in our hands. We struggle against the waves of the Ocean of Time. Time seems just an account of the years, a series of birthdays around a cake towered with candles. But years are the pages of the Book of History. Who write those pages? Hitler, Stalin, Napoleon, Louis XIV, Charles V, Gregory VII, Charlemagne, Leo I, Augustus, Alexander the Macedonian, Daniel the Prophet, King David, Moses the Hebrew? Who got the pen? And what’s more interesting, what would you write in that Book if you had that pen in your hand? Would you write a story around you, the hero, the god, the world tyrant? What’s the part of Man in History? Would you take the Pen from the Hand of God, give to the World History a new direction, what would be that? You becoming the richest man on Earth, or of the universe for that matter? Would you drink gold as water, eat diamonds as bread, dress silver feather’s, walk on sapphire shoes, be the master of one thousand miss universes?

Is it the path of man but war for pleasure, satisfaction of the flesh, the drinking of the blood of the weaker fellow as the sweetest wine the tongue can aspire to? Was God a fool when leaving the Earth in the hands of a bull known to be a war-lover, in the hope that the Law would keep his horns away from blood? Is it the meaning of life to feel superior to some, inferior to none, get rich as the most, burn the years in holy plans to conquer world power and eat the ashes of the conquered with a delighted soul?

Would be God sitting if He had in mind not a World Revolution, led by Himself, to give a Final Happy End to the History of Death on Earth? But can He still be moved by man's tears? Will He be faithful to His Love for Mankind after so many centuries, every single century a page of horror, the last greater than the first, and the Nations still aspiring to Empire as brutes incapable of learning from the Pages of the Book of History?

God will give not away His Pen, He is the only One who writes in that Book. And that’s it. Even so, when will He rise to write a Chapter of Glory and Victory for the sake of Mankind?

I loved to sit by El Retiro, my mind free to take me whatever the wind of the Spirit blew. Things were not easy for me at all. One year had faded away, a page of my own life’s book has been filled up and still I was coincée in the jam of daily events far away from my control. I was sailing the sea of the daily circumstances as a bird trapped in a storm, all it can do is keep cool, get out of the rain and the lightning, fly high to the sun; but as it does so, will it find salvation or will he get deeper and deeper into the eye of the storm?

My little boss was every month more and more out of his mind. Cocaine was sucking his brain. Money disappeared as soon as the pesetas touched his hands. He was missing my pay. He had a better idea. I will move with him, his mom was a great cooker, and once he will refloat his pocket he will pay me the debt. Well, I was in no position to make a wrong move and I accepted the location for the time being. In the meantime, I told him so, “I put some money in my pocket to cover my own daily expenses”; I knew it could blow millions in minutes, his addiction to Cocaine had no bottom. He had a friend whose girlfriend was a real bitch. They fucked her both together. Disgusting. She was crazy about getting me onto the scene. I had Marta, smart, beautiful, and we had our love-making-nest round the corner, in Galileo Street. Never did I like much that sharing woman thing. Though I was in the hottest spot in Madrid, I kept to myself, no drinking, no drugs, no whores, no smoking. A woman in love, some money in the pocket, my books, and my eyes looking for a door out for my spirit to fly higher and higher, what else need a young man to feel good?

The situation could not endure much longer anyway. Carpio’s Gang was attracting to much attention. That Gang was hurting people for fun, and El Carpio would not move on to another hot place in Madrid, he had a fixation with Arguelles. Fortunately he made a really wrong move. He stabbed to death a young guy among the thousands celebrating their youth in the Arguelles’ Towers. El Carpio and his mates were children of military staff and cops; they were highly covered up by daddy and mom. Until they touched that poor boy. His big brother got out his riffle and came to hunt the criminals where they were. They were so fuckin’ out of their minds that they thought to be kind of gods, they killed a boy and still they were coming to the crime scene. Thank you Lord, said the young boy’s big brother, he said hello to El Carpio and his lieutenant, and emptied his riffle right there, killing el Carpio and his lieutenant right there, their bloody bellies exploded like balloons full with blood. He hid the riffle and walked away. Nobody saw nothing, nobody would say nothing. Well done, man, that was in everybody’s thought. It was an amazing thing, no cop showed up to investigate the murder of the young lad, the entire commissary came looking for criminal who shot the darling of the Big Boss. Fuck you! After sometime they retired the siege and things came back to normal. Of course a new gang came to occupy the territory.

The work was done. We shut the little pub. Cocaine was sucking even my friend’s ass. No big deal. I got me a room in the area and gave myself to enjoy Marta’s company night and day. So I had time to figure out what I could do next. I had advanced my second essay as far as couple of hundred pages. I had an amount of sketches in my head so mixed up that I could make a salad of ideas for a barbecue with the Muses. I was digging to much in the ground, more than a foundation I was building the grave where this new essay would rest in peace. Again, my love for the truth was superior than my passion for the belle lettres; just as my friend the Swiss poet could write a poem without any orthographic sign and feel a hero, in my way I was doing some of the same kind, no conscious of the fatuity in that bravery. We were young, experience is the wall against to try your muscles, until you learn that the wall can’t be pull down, you got a find a door in, your own door through it. Stupid as it may sounds, during that fight failure teach you two things, the strength of the wall, and the strength of your muscles. So you see, nothing is lost.

Marta, of course, could not help smiling at my philosophy. I loved her very much, but I would never tell her who I was and why I was stuck there in that Hole. Every time she led the conversation to that point I managed to deviate her attention to some other point. So, she got pregnant, how would I avoid now the question? She knew my name was Raúl, and that’s it. I knew her parent’s house, we were both the same age, I was writing a book, her father had written some kind of book too; everything was fine, she was in La Complutense studying Biology and I was not interfering in her career. Everything was fine. Who were my parents? I would not say a word. They could find out that I deserted from my military station. Much I loved her, I could not reveal her my family name. Obviously this mystery led her father to suppose that I was a kind of criminal hiding from the Law. Marta’s tear would not move me to that point. She had to trust me. I will find my way out, we will have our child and go through this moment of confusion. But this was too much to ask. And she went for abortion. I told her not to, that she will not see me again if she did so; for no success, she flew to London with her mom, and that was. When she came back I kept unmoved by her words. My heart was broken, like a bottle of wine smashed against the wall, once the bottle is broken there is no purpose in taking back the wine into a new bottle. Our relation was over.

I took the bull by the horns and decide to make the money for getting away from that damned Arguelles by dealing some marihuana. I knew everybody and everybody knew me. It would not be difficult to make few thousands of dollars and fly away from Spain. In the meantime the book was finished, I send it to some publishers and they send it back to me. I got to move on. However, the territory was occupied by a new gang. Those new guys were from Vallecas, Madrid’s Hell’s kitchen. They used not fire weapons, only knives. I knew some of them. They knew me too from the pub. When they were half drank and alone before me, they love to tell me their bloody stories. I didn’t give a shit about their going around stealing the money from whoever was it. They were in my place and they would keep cool, and if I had to I would break their bollocks right there. They knew I was not boasting. But two of them, right when I began dealing some marihuana, came after me with those of their little knives for terrorizing the kids. I kicked their hell out of me, and I faced with a real butcher’s knife. I scared the hell out of their souls. That evening the Magnificent Seven, as I called them, came looking for me. I knew they would do so, and I spoke plainly to their faces. “I go down, I take at least three with me”. From the moment they saw my weapon they made their mind up, “He’s fucking crazy”. “Yeah, this is my territory too, you understand, I won’t step on your way, don’t even think to step on mine; don’t ever try me”. They were junkies. They would kill you without mercy or remorse, sack you money and go. But before a man they would let the way free. And so it was. They never bothered me anymore.

That Madrid's Summer was as hot as in the belly of an oven. But some old friends came back from their stories of adventures and romances with girls from Mars. Some had married and some were already divorced. The world kept turning. Some were going up and some were going down. But it felt good meeting old good friends, no matter their paranoia and their stories of broken dreams and their new castles in the air waiting for their masters to come in. They were my friends, good company to laugh with, even give up my armor and drink a beer. I wasn’t get hurt, was I? And there she was, Michelle, the girl with the most beautiful eyes I had never met.

“You gonna be mine tonight”.

“Really!”.

“Who care about what you think, babe? It is not to the prey to defy the hunter”.

“And you are…?”.

“The hunter, of course”.

She could not impede her burstin’ in laughter. She was mine.

Michelle happened to be a Psychology student in some fancy and expensive international school in Switzerland. She lived in Puerta del Hierro, where the Government ministers lived, or so. A Canadian girl carrying her Rolex as she did not care who was to steal it from her. She was a little bit beyond weight, but she was happy all the time, and that’s was what I needed most, a heart full of smiles and ready to bury me under a million of kisses.

She fell in love, she told me.

“And who’s the lucky millionaire?”

“Shut up, Raúl”

Well, she had to go back to her studies. A summer love is the more gorgeous and triumphal the larger the distance. Nothing to tear oneself apart. But this girl would not go away.

“Excuse me”

“I won’t go. I love you. I stay with you”

“Am I missing something here?”

“Yeah, my love”

There was nothing I could say to change her mind. Or was there something I could do? I mean, I loved Michelle, I loved the way she smiled, the way she moved, her eyes, everything about her. But she was my summer love. What was she telling me, she was going to give up her career and future for the unknown guy whom she was making love with? What she knew about me anyway?

As I looked into her eyes I knew she was speaking for real. How could I bear a decision like that on me? I knew not what will happen to me next day. I could be going in a couple of days, next month. Was I about to be blamed?

“I don’t mind about tomorrow, I love you today, and I will stay with you” was her answer again and again.

“Listen Michelle, listen to me very carefully, I will tell you a story, then you will go home, don’t say a word, and you will take that plane tomorrow”

I told her the truth, my truth, who I was, why I was stuck in Madrid. I told her what never I told to Marta. I thought that with my story I would scared the hell out of her heart and she would fly that plane, far away from a man like me. A deserter for the Love of God! What is that? What else to say but I was crazy? I prevented this reaction when I told her not to say anything. And you know what? She kept saying : “I don’t care. I love you. I will not go. You are the man of my life. If you want me to scare with the story of your life, I love you more now than before. Anything else?”.

Women! They kept surprising me! When would I find time to study the woman’s heart? I was doing so well with the Nature of the Universe, the Structure of History, the Fundamentals of Physics and the Principles of Politics. And when I fell on Woman, I was real nuts.

She was back next evening; she was supposed to be in Switzerland. She was not, she was by me, absolutely beautiful, and at her own risk. She got me away from the dealings, help me to cool down and try to find my way out, together. Oh God, that’s all I was in need.

Of course, in her own house she vented the fires of hell. They took Michelle to a doctor for the mental weaklings, she, a student of Psychology, and the doctor at the end of his treatment called the entire family to his practice. That was fabulous. We laughed all night long. Love was Michelle’s disease.

Michelle’s father, anyway, had more connections in high places than Marta’s father, and he was trying to find out how to lock me down, the cause was not important, the effect was the point. I had to go. I got to use my fake passport. But I won’t do it with Michelle by my side. I would go first to Paris, on my own, and once I found the passport was still OK we would do it together.

That night before that morning I had to go, we were walking our Love around the Arguelles Towers. Michelle was splendid as a springtime rose. She transpired happiness. She smelled divine, her fragrance surfing the air behind her and all around her. For that matter there was no people in the corridor between the Towers where the pubs are. Just a young girl siting by the side of the corridor. I looked in her eyes and she had the look of a child in the hands of an assassin. She was staring at Michelle absolutely absorbed by the radiance of her joy.

I knew that young girl. I had seen her sometimes, she was a natural young girl moving with her books, not a beauty at all, not ugly neither, around 5 feet tall, skinny, but healthy. She radiates a natural smile from which I could say that she was a virgin, eighteen years old and a virgin, that it is something that the soul radiates through the body. We crossed some words too, sometime. She was known by a friend of mine. Nothing else for the record. Anyway, this evening her natural joy was dead. I could see it in her eyes. She was staring at Michelle as she was looking Life in full Power, and she couldn’t look nowhere else. I was touched and walked straight to her. Ana was her name.

We would not leave her alone. We took her with us all night long; she had a needle and was going to shoot air in her vein. The end of all. She wouldn’t say why. Michelle’s radiance and my way of insisting her to keep alive did it for that night.

But things don’t happen because we want things to happen. Adam did not beg for falling, the XXth Century did not beg for world wars, neither the XXIst Century for a Global Revolution for that matter. Mostly all we can do is to deal with the storm. Or you can force the circumstances by trespassing the law. How? Well, you become a legislator and made laws to be trespassing. How simple! They called it the Democracy Game. However, if we conceive Life as a bitch, by result you are a bastard. What else? If you mother is a bitch you are a son of a bitch. Elemental conclusions come from elemental principles. How you break this entanglement? There is only one way out of this game, accepting the truth, Life is Holy, Life is Sacred, we are born to be Holy and Sacred. We got to respect each other that way, treat each other in such a manner. It cannot be that your life is holy and sacred and mine is not. This is trespassing the Law : Love your fellow man as you do love yourself. If you see people dying of hunger or being massacred by a tyrant and you do nothing, you are worth nothing, your life is nothing, your soul means nothing, your memory is nothing, you are nothing. Love for the Human Kind does not start projecting your all-powerful love to the far away people on the other side of the Moon. It begins around you, it exist all around you, is calling you every day from around you.

I do a lot of thinking when am on the road. Inasmuch as some considered me a hobo or a wanderer I always knew who I am and how God made for me things be as easy as they could be. I always counted on Him. I’m not worth than a bird after all? Not that a despise little birds; I love them, many times I sit dreaming with having their little wings to fly from three to tree, singing a song here and another there, the light of God filling my soul, playing with the winds among clouds of silver and gold, beneath the starry sky at the Moon’s feet laying quietly. “Do you love me, Moonshine?”. My blood on fire dancing on the ledge, with a red guitar, blood on her strings, pouring my soul to the four corners of the Earth. Mother Earth, the more I love you the more I pain. What should I do? I will lay on a mountain, open my chest to the arrows of heavens, “killed by love of Venus”, please, write on my grave.

Sunshine is my father. I was born in the Sun’s Reign. You can’t have a better image of God, the Living Sunlight. Adore me with feathers of sparrows, idolatrize me with Siberian dogs eyes, kill me with kisses from Andromeda’s jets. Who is who, and when is when? How the future is written and how much blood got to be paid for one happy end? I look in the mirror of the ages of men and my soul close its door to the winds of time. Can men and women change their tomorrow? would they do it if they were to pay for it to be simple birds singing songs of love upon the branches of the tree of life? What’s the mystery in Power? What’s the secret of the pleasure in breaking the hearts of the ones you love? A road for an eagle, what that is means? The lion in its cage looking straight in your eyes, what does it says? Have you heard the sound of Sirius when the night surrounds the Sun and the King falls sleep in the arms of Heavens? Prophets and divine, where is your honor and your glory?

Many hours I passed that morning in the road. Me, the champion of the road, the guy who comes the last and goes the first. I had seen guys standing in the road for hours, and me coming to take the last place and a minute later being driving where I wanted to go. I became a free train rider for a change. No highway could stop me. No road could keep me for very long. A shooting star making its way through the road map sky, that’s it. Where you wanna go, where you wanna be, this is the question.

That day I couldn’t make it. And I’d learned to difference between a home on the road and paradise. And more than all, I had learned when God is around me. The morning came and went. Midday too. By evening I knew this was His doing. I had to come back. There was something for me to do. I didn’t’ know what, but there was something for me to do back in the city. I could be a hundred hours sitting by that highway, I would not move away from Madrid.

“All right. Hello, my dear”.

“You are here” said Michelle.

“Yeah, something is happening and I don’t know what”.

It was not long before I found out the why. She was back, the little girl, Ana, with her needle in her bag, and finally decided to cut shot her miserable life.

“What?” said I. “You are the reason am here. Begin to pour on me your story, right now”.

She looked at me like the one saying, “right, he is going to playing the mental doctor and I am the stupid little girl who is going to make his day; he is going to masturbate his pride on my salvation as long as he lives. Fuck you!”.

“Hey, cut the crap. I can read your mind. If not because you I would be by now in Barcelona. I can see Death around you as much as you don’t see God around me. Open your eyes, He is here, with me, and He wants you to tell me what is happening to you”.

For the first time she looked at me for real. She was shocked. How did I know God was something to do with her problem? Still so I could read in her eyes telling herself that I wouldn’t believe her. In any case she had nothing to lose telling me her story.

And yeah, she had one hell of a story.

She was the normal student girl in love with the student’s life, a love very weird, she did not want to grow and become a woman, life in the lyceum was fantastic, amusing beyond description, and for the love of it she didn’t mind to play the idiot brainy girl. Her parents were fine, they loved their sweet girl, one day she would find her way. She was alcohol free, drug free, she was a virgin.

And finally that day came about, the day for Ana to find her way.

But that day came not exactly as her parents dreamt with. The thing is that Ana stopped making the fool, one summer she broke all records, next year she was studying Law, the first of her class. Next summer she made the work of an entire year. She was driving at light speed, and everybody who knew her could see that there was something strange. No one could believe that yesterday’s loser was today’s champion. What was going on?

And there is when Ana’s tragedy began. She opened her heart to her beloved ones. She had a vision. From God actually. She had been shown a Global Revolution coming on. The Tree of Sciences was going to be revolutionized in a matter of time. Everything : Politics, Physics, Religion, Cosmology, Medicine, every single Science and Institution of this World was going to be Revolutionized by God Himself. And she had been called to participate in that Day. Because this, she found herself with a genial memory, just like that. She needed but to read once a book to swallow its contents. Her memory had become a prodigious. In one single year she had made to years of Law. And she was preparing the third year. Everybody was amazed. From that little girl worth nothing, to this young woman with no equal!

All right, so what?

But that story, man, God’s Vision, God leading a Global Revolution! So much learning had turned Ana's mind upside down, they said. Take her to the Psychologist. Give her a Psychiatrist treatment. You know, God doesn’t exist. How could He patronize, produce, lead a Global Revolution? All that was a making of her mind. She had to forget about it. She would follow the prescription of her good doctor until that Vision was erased from her soul. She would become a normal person again.

And she did. After so much pressure and pills the connection between the reality of her soul and the reality of her daily life was broken. The miracle was denied to her.

How could they do that to their child?

How could she could keep on living in a world where she had lost her place?

I could see why I was sitting in front of that young woman absolutely decided to end her life. No wonder God had stopped the world going around during this day. She was to Him a most sweet daughter. I had to take off my armor, stay soul naked before her for the love of a sister of mine in God’s heart.

“All right, listen to me, Ana. Everything will happen as you saw. But the time to come it is still far away from you and me. I am a son of God, like you. You have exposed your soul to the world, but the world is under the power of Death, and Death has only one goal, to kill the sons of God. You would not do it again. Let them think that you have being cured from your shooting madness; come back to your life. You have to reach the place where you will be found on when the day of that Revolution will come. Imagine a chess board. Us, the sons of God, we have every one our own position in that field, but the day for the match to start it depends not on you or me. The Player is God, the enemy is Death. We can’t make God to order the match to start. We are pawns in His War on Death. He calls the pawns, He create them, He gives the position to everyone. There is nothing we can do but to get ready and whenever the Match begins, we will be there, all together, on the same Board, and we all will be moved by the same Spirit, fighting for Victory, knowing that the Victory is the consequence. God cannot be beaten. Go back to your life, sister. You Father is Christ, your Mother is the Church. I am the One who will call on the sons of God. The day that you hear the Unification Will of God be announced to all the Nations, then say to yourself : The match is to begin”.

Next day I did what best I do, get a ride. I came and went from Paris.

I found Ana with Michelle. Michelle was amazed.

“What did you say to this girl? Can't you see her? She feels like one coming out of the grave, she was supposed to see Death, not God. Man, she has been consoling me, can you believe it? I thought that you would never come back. I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know what should I have done without her. She would no hear a word about you not coming. I can’t believe it. She is so sweet. What said you to her?”

I have never seen that girl again. Ana was her name.

DIARY OF A SON OF GOD