Qeuchua People, Peru

“Up on the path the air was stoned, sweet, simple and liquid. I stopped. I looked down into the water, in its volcanic gouge. Its light became kind immediately. One bird flew on the blue surface. The water stirred slightly. I said to myself: ”Look, it laughs.” I descended the slope. My feet woke up the stones that started downhill, jumping on top of each other as turbulent beings. The sun was there, above my head, also laughing. My heart was pounding. I was like a child going to take his gift.

When I reached the shore, a bit of holy shyness stopped me. I was afraid to make noise. I had to fulfill a ritual and I felt lefty. I watched the grass that said to me: ”Go, go, it’s not important, it’s just a game.” I sat, took a deep breath, submerged my head in water, slowly, and dared to open my eyes. On the bottom the sun was caressing the sand, the sand was sparking. Thanks to the agitation, millions of stars were born, died, were reborn elsewhere. As I was contemplating this, I suddenly felt very high, without question

s, without hope, without fear, like a God over the universe. The water brought ocean noises to my years. For one moment I felt loving hands caressing my figure, neck, hair. I lift my head. I felt the air of the day and the sun. I saw my reflection stirred by rain drops touching the water.I was just a little man. I was almost nothing. I rubbed my eyes. The mountain, the sky, the grass felt very close, accomplice, alert. I plunged again and again until I got drunk of this discovery: inside I was a God, outside I was a midget. Inside I was alive but outside I was all around it. Inside quiet,outside doubtful. I descended to the village. El Chura was waiting for me outside my cottage. I told him what had happened. He told me: The water is a gate. The wind, the rain, the night, the snow, the rocks are also gates. By any of these gates you can go in peace.

Only a fighter can stand the road of knowledge, he said. Because his art is about finding an equilibrium between the fear of being a man and the wonder of being human.” Cele 7 pene ale vulturului – Henri Gougaud

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