Says don Atahualpa in one of his most celebrated stanzas:
"Because I don't grease the axles
they call me a quitter.
If I like to hear them play,
Why should I grease them?"
It's very clear: A + B = C
He likes to hear them play. The carter takes a decision which goes beyond aesthetics and becomes a way of life.
He travels a road in a concrete exercise of dynamic meditation. He practices the great wisdom of impermanence and he cares very little about anything.
Every now and again, so they won't notice what he's into, he gestures a greeting to those who pass by.
Acts dumb.
With a backing of hoofbeats of the oxen, the periodic squeaking of the axles helps him to maintain the rhythm of his mantra and not forget the passing of time.
Sunlight filters between the trees and rips the landscape into strips.
The forest lives. Beats.
Every mosquito-iguana-chajá-orange-tree in flower calmly assumes its function and vibrates with the rest in harmony.
They interact.
They feed the Universe with energy.
Marcos López