Listen To Your Voice That Your Eyes Reflect

Knowing your personal limits is like looking deep within yourself and understanding nature's subtle messages.

It was hotter than ever that morning since the day of the contest. The eyes were looking at me, waiting to speak to me in a hidden voice. It was not only the heat that unsettled me, a kind of mental representation of the living co-operation of strange forces, but also a strange sense of foreboding that never left me. And they were still watching what was happening to me, without me being able to intervene in any way. I could only connect to the soul of an artist who, like a magician, tries to reveal his essence beyond appearances.

I started running up the slope, but this time, every step seemed harder, and the hot air was almost unbreathable. The eyes looked at me without me realizing that someone was watching me, and they spoke to me, they spoke to me together, they warned me that something was going to happen, and I didn't listen to them. Nature itself was waiting. After crossing the seventh kilometer, four kilometers before the end, I felt sick. I stopped instantly in the shade of an old tree, which seemed to tell me to rest and find myself.

And again, that voice from the off called to me: "Don't try to do an impossible trick in the face of unrelenting nature. Even the grandest illusions can crumble in the face of the primordial forces that govern the universe around you. True magic is to harmonize your efforts with the eternal rhythms of creation, not defy them."

- Yes, maybe, I answered to myself. A magician would know when to stop, looking at the watch on my wrist and calling on my dwindling reserves of courage. Nature can overthrow my seemingly impossible tricks with one relentless gesture, so I will avoid any miraculous artifice.

Can you create a visual representation of relinquishment in such a revealing way that you bring to life a captivating vision full of hidden meanings?

- The secret of art lies in making everything that is actually imagined seem true, the voice continues. However, the minimum intensity of energy taken to the maximum extension is nothing but madness, a kind of grandiose illusion that defies reality, a kind of paradox of creativity that wraps everything in a cloak of artistic deception. No one lives long in a gray picture.

- I can't imagine anything worse than not believing in anything, I said then, with my eyes blinking in resignation. Then the voice fell silent, remaining motionless, almost rigid, but I felt that it was looking at me insistently, revealingly, with brown eyes that conveyed a deep sadness, an "Elfortahis Serchisas", a state of constant struggle of the soul that yearns for the absolute. The agreeable resonance of the feeling of failure imposed itself on my whole being, reconsidering the possibility of use.

All I had to do was look at myself with the eyes of the artist who makes every moment seem like an eternity full of hidden meanings, along the lines of a visual representation of captivating introspection. The voice from off, the eyes from the secret spoke to me quietly, without detours, as if they saw me from somewhere above, as witnesses of an unseen god, or as if they resounded from my heart, warming my blood with meanings unspoken. It was just me and myself, two pairs of eyes making a single vision filter the light through the white canvas of the easel that outlines a stopping point on a deceptive route.

Do you believe that true self-expression comes from the ability to look forward and transform suffering into art, according to the call to connect with the forces of nature?

If the most accurate judge of time is the clock, the most sensitive is surely a thief. Omar Ibliks, from the novel "The Geographer's Library", was the most skilled in this regard, he cultivated his anonymity by walking neither too close nor too far from others, neither too fast nor too slow, and never drawing attention to the thing he held. He had learned to use his peripheral vision more than his direct vision.

The eyes were there, all the time, defying all consequences. We stared at each other in silence, without moving, them at me, me at them, long enough for neither of us to have anything left to ask, time standing still. The bookshelves in my mind began to flutter and darken, with all their wisdom, at this resignation during the contest. The changes of soul and mental states passed over me like water and just as quickly they were lost in the deep.

The understanding of the eyes, of course, came later, when they announced to me: "You can't steal the time you lost by giving up, but you can regain your soul-nourishing sight."

Can you remain true to the authentic expression of your inner being and revelatory vocation after accepting that certain things are irreversible?

Thus I came to the conclusion that it is useless to suffer for what is irreparable, I gave up feeling guilty about my failure. There will be other contests. My eyes reflected my self-expression, overwhelming them with my revelatory vocation, of living a string of victories despite a single defeat. Then I said with a deep sigh:

- I trust that you will forgive me for the long silence between magic numbers, by which I proudly announce that I have finally, if only partially, managed to find myself, trying to come to terms with the defeat it caused me the nature. True magic is looking forward with hope and never giving up on your aspirations, painting a bright future on the canvas of life, like an easel of infinite possibilities.

An attentive and discerning eye has this reflection in mind: "You can't steal the time you've lost by giving up, but you can regain the sight that feeds the soul."

Listen to your voice that your eyes reflect! The exercise consists in making an introspection, in which you look at yourself on the same route, but not alone, but accompanied by a voice that knows how to see beyond the renunciation. Even if you give up, the voice never gives up. Listen to your voice that your eyes reflect!

Leadership is the work of an introspection that speaks vicariously through the background of an existential experience, about the emptiness of a moment of balance that seems to bring no good unless it is enlivened with spiritual energy, with a thoughtful soul.