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| " Cemetery." Tombs in a rural cemetery in the Department. Thirty-Three. Photo of the author | |
Monday, November 1, 2010
Lemon Baking Chip Store
Day of the Dead. Souls Day
"One morning I got up, definitely extended. On his rest was dawn and dusk. It had rained and had crossed sunny honey. Where he was, the checkbox had been yellow. The widespread pasture wore a yellow butterfly tattooed on total green gramillal "The story Andrada. Juan José Morosoli.
Tombs of time.
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memory Tomb. Depto. Cerro Largo.
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| sometimes escapes death of hiding. From there, where the homo sapiens sapiens, intelligent, conscious of his mortality has put. Evening to the everyday, however, that ever-present, denied the daily dialogue, but intent on his way to reality, forcing permanently. Always present. Every culture has had with death the overwhelming ratio of having to imagine: A Beyond. Also from lively spaces have had to conclude in many cases, the afterlife, the supernatural, is ultimately the reason justifying all existence. All great books, all religions invite man to deceive his destiny in nature and that is where the soul, sometimes one, sometimes more. Sometimes thousands. Also sometimes, rational people shaking their materialism and renew their relationship with their dead. Tomorrow (today) November 2 is one of those days. |
From the beginning, from the random and extraordinary evolutionary option of providing the Homo of thought, of giving it such a huge complex brain which subordinated all the remaining design and install the assumed capacity as superior, possessing symbolic thinking and the ability to build the abstract, man has been heavy on his shoulders the fate of known finite. can fantasize as much as you like and want to his death. You can also fall into the trap of ignoring and believe out of all destinations back to the food chain and become an end in horrendous banquet of "a pack of death", no matter how the mighty have your enterradero or if your body is fortunate to rot calm and at peace with the crows as Juan José Morosoli
 | Thinking about death is also indivisible think of the soul . That, the only one who had it and it seems we look perhaps too little, for so certainly there and also we do in our beliefs, synonymous with goodness, but in fact would be "heartless", put there by God or gods, to house of the good.
| also from impeccable rationality others believe that you can not live only with a soul. How could the ancient Greeks understood and managed and its contemporary life, without understanding death, soul and its destiny? |
As forceful deny the belief of the Jivaro of Ecuador, when they think of the three stages through which passes through the soul of their dead. I know, I say, "are savages." But at least we agree here that practically all the academic anthropological discipline Dilthey called this thinking as a philosopher, spiritual anthropology, provides certainty of universal existence of animism, which is nothing else than the idea that individuals of all known societies - we Uruguayans of course, that inside their bodies, their visible and tangible - there in one way or another a being or to be invisible and intangible soul.
At some point, at some point, our ancestors, perhaps the Neanderthal, perhaps others no matter the case, have wept in grief the first time, and have dug for the first time, the first tombs, and painted with ocher humanized be the remains of the dead mourned for the first time. Perhaps the social construction of death that we have here in the West, we make it easy or just plain not allow us to realize the quantum leap that circumstance instituting representing once and for all of ritualization and the mortuary as part of more or less complex ceremonies of farewell and honor, not the dead that ultimately is an issue determined by the nature or the vicissitudes of life, but a farewell to his soul travels to the afterlife, more or less happy, more or less picturesque, but up or down, to the supernatural, to where are those who came before us, a great cosmopolitan city of the dead and this one situation, which in varying degrees, maintained today that such an effect assumed to be natural, the rationalization is surprising.
Sometimes death is customized acquires precise limits where reason loses position and ceases its efforts to explain everything. Or almost everything. Sometimes they are deaths that without the existence of the existential lifeline is the soul, its effects are inexplicable.
Darnauchans
, is one of those deaths that belong to a picture that transcends the limits of pain selfish owners. Hear his voice. Although it is not the voice of his soul, somehow noble technology replaces it.
A
José Carbajal, Sabalero
the man inside and out coast river, wine and counters without ancestry, why do not yet have dried the tears of the Uruguayan because life and death is proven that you always knew a lot, you all our love.
just in body and soul: the Sabalero José Carbajal, among other issues singing live at the Teatro Solís de Montevideo:
Death .
He. A large soul.
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