From My
Balcony The
Unicorn
By Nacho Cadena - Owner of La Petite France
On the door of the
room, with a painting faded by time, there
was a legend, poorly drawn: "The
Cave of the Unicorn". She opened the door with
a confidence that came from knowing that she
would find her grandfather there. Her green
eyes, as wide as the ocean, darted from side
to side, looking up and down at all those photographs,
drawings, writings and poems, all relating
to the same topic. Chests, shelves, drawers,
all full of unicorn figures in all sizes and
colors, and some rolled up parchments bearing
written testimonies of those lucky few who
had managed to see the mythical creature.
She approached the
man who inhabited the "cave" during
the daytime, her grandfather, and she gently
led him by the hand to that table where a big
horn lay. It was as if of blackened porcelain,
a little twisted. She moved her head, she winked
at him, as a signal, looking for an answer
to everything she saw. The man, her grandfather,
took her two hands in his, lovingly, asking
her to be patient. No words were spoken, they
communicated only with looks and movements
of the head, with the holding of hands, and
mostly with the heart, both hearts held open
to the truth and closed to incredulity.
The eight-year-old girl and the grandfather,
enjoying one another, enveloped in this marvelous
and unique wrapping given through signals and
memories of the mysteries of a magical creature
simply called: Unicorn.
They remained silent, holding each other's
hands. The man's gaze was fixed on an ancient
paper, corroded by salt and the years and his
mind was transported to that place of which
the document spoke. It was a house, maybe a
hut, that I later found out was located in
a place up in the mountains, near Cabo Corrientes.
It must have been one of those precious constructions
made of palm leaves, without walls or doors,
open to the ocean, letting the song and the
breeze come in as far as they could and from
there, back to the sea, the same breeze would
return laden with human feelings, joy and gratitude
for having lived in such a distinctive manner.
The ancient paper, a pencil-written copy of
what could be read in the little house, said:
This is the house of the
unicorn.
The house of the unicorn
is a house that sings.
Sharpen your hearing and
you will hear very tender medieval songs.
They are the songs produced
by the mystical vibrations of the unicorn.
Here, between the bamboo
walls and palm leaf roof, there is no room
for discord, or jealousy, or fights, or intrigues,
or lies.
This is the house that
sings, open your heart to joy.
The man remained quiet,
playing with his gray hair, long and a little
ruffled. It looked as if his mind and his
spirit had been transported over there, to
the hut, to the house that sings; but no,
he was there, holding hands with the little
one. Truth is, I don't understand this
man's ability to be there as much as here.
The leafed through books, they read poems,
stories, and most of all they took that book
out from the bottom of the chest, that old,
old book with its leather cover and parchment
pages. This ancient book with the symbol on
the front page (modern marketing folks would
call it a logo) of the guild, the brotherhood
of those who believe and have had the privilege
of socializing with the unicorns.
For the first time,
the little girl opened her mouth and asked: "Is
it true that unicorns exist?"
The grandfather only
answered: "Close your
eyes." And then he added, addressing the little
girl: "The time has come for you to learn to
see with your soul and not just with your eyes.
You will see things and people you have never
dreamt of."
The eight-year-old
girl raised her head and kissed her grandfather
on the cheek. Her eyes
were closed.
I ask myself, would you and I have the ability
to believe in unicorns? Or maybe we belong
among those followers of St. Thomas. We have
to see it to believe it. But at the same time,
how will we ever find a unicorn if we don't
go out looking for it?
We will close our
eyes, like the little girl, and maybe we
will find that the Unicorn is the live manifestation
of purity, or maybe truth, of good intentions.
Friendship, truth, authentic friendship,
maybe we identify them with the Unicorn.
Or good intentions, or purpose, or the will
to live. Why not? We'll close our
eyes.
Now I will tell you that I met a man by the
name of Roberto Vavra. He says that on April
15 th , 1967, he saw and photographed a unicorn
in a place near Tamzunchale, Mexico, and that
ever since then he has taken photographs and
videos of unicorns of the sea, of the mountains,
of the desert and of the snows.
I suggest that we close our eyes and open
our ears to this, something I heard as a murmur:
On the nights of the four
moons or
On the nights of the red
moon or
On the nights of the Leo
constellation or
On the nights of half eclipses
or
On the nights of the shooting
stars
.but
always at night.
From your balcony or your
window
Or from the Malecon or
the roof of your house
Fix your sights on the
horizon over the bay
More focused, much more
In a spirit of concentration
And
once you've got it.
Close your eyes slowly,
let yourself go,
And the marvelous creature
will appear before you
As if it were coming out
of the sea
And with it will come peace, relief, clarity
And the will to love.
Mystery becomes reality,
there is no more water,
Or
wind, or fire. there
is only
Earth.
Let the purity of those
being lift you
To a state of ecstasy and
joy,
Let the pleasure in, of entering the fantastic
And mystical world of the
Unicorn.
Be ready to reach your
other you
Your unknown you
Your perfect you.
At this point, here
from my balcony, I wonder if it could be
true, or is it part of what we talked about - illusions. Could
it be an illusion? In any case, we have nothing
to lose if we pursue it.
Finally, a reminder.
If you want to win the Lottery, you have
to buy a ticket. if you want
to see the unicorns, you have to go out looking
for them.
Later, you will tell me of your experience.
For now, it has been good.
Nacho Cadena
Owner of La Petite
France
* From My Balcony
is an independent column of Mr. Ignacio
[Nacho] Cadena, owner of La
Petite France Restaurant
in Puerto Vallarta and source of this information.
To contact Mr. Ignacio Cadena please email
to: lapetitefrance@prodigy.net.mx
Archives
by date |
Current
Weather Report
