The feeling - my own - is that these days is developing in the "circle of blogs, an interesting tour of shares, about many things but reminds me of the figure of the teacher.
Master is not - in my opinion - someone who teaches. And 'someone through whom we learn. Master
not me to tell me (it would be a good assumption), but it's something that you find in me. In a
my post, I talked about the master of pain. Fioridarancio made reference to sin. Sudorepioggia error. Tribal Fire to his new job, to its customers.
But the pain can be sterile, sin can wreak havoc, the error can be fatal, the customer can be "dumb". What makes the "masters" these accidents?
I would say my ability to listen.
My choice of listening. That click that makes you say, inside you, talk to your god, "what that mistake, what I can not see where I can change?" Instead of shouting "why is this happening? Why me? Because others are bad? ".
I call this " expectations."
Foster was a word we used very Arkeon to describe the relationship with the teacher. Some people have understood (or declined) as a trust. Someone like addiction. Personally I always thought that the award was not against the master, but of life: faith, not necessarily religious, that events have meaning and that we can choose not to try to change the events but to let them take me to see where, what they are telling me. A concept of equilibrium with the existence, if you will, where counter-thrust events and actions can not be a dance and a fight.
In all this, the teacher is often just a tool, I choose the lever to lift the lid of my strength or my blindness. I do not seek the master, try me. I do not care how he is the master, I am interested as I am done. My research does not depend on him, my understanding is not dependent on him. And if you can master il dolore, il peccato, l’errore, allora certamente può esserlo anche un uomo, un qualunque uomo, il meno dotato, il meno giusto, come il più santo e grande.
Tante cose vorrei dire su questo argomento…ma spero che qualcuno voglia aggiungere i propri pensieri, le proprie esperienze.
Per ora, ringrazio i miei maestri.
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