The other day I felt like reading a book in a small park in the middle of Madrid. I had to make time for an event and I thought it was a good idea to take advantage of it to continue with one of my readings. I looked for a place as far away from the hustle and bustle as possible and, at the same time, as close to nature as possible in the heart of a big city.
I remember being capricious when choosing the bench I was going to sit on. It was important to me. I had set out to squeeze the most out of my reading experience. It had to be a secluded bench, away from the road, but at the same time with a beautiful view of the vegetation and the sky over Madrid. In the end, after not being convinced by any of the available ones, I took my way back and chose one at random in a small square. Even though it was a cold autumn day, I warmly enjoyed that small moment of inner freedom.
After a while, I found myself looking up at the sky with increasing frequency. It meant that my moment of reading was coming to an end. Personally, I have always found it very tempting to look up at the sky. Until then, the book had been an effective travel companion to the disconnection from my surroundings and the world. However, it seemed that another of my reflective moments wanted to be born in that small park in the center of Madrid.
It was getting dark. Although the sky was overcast, the colorful reflections of the sunset on the clouds were truly beautiful. To make matters worse, a delicate wind gently swayed a fir tree that proudly stood in front of me. I love the wind, it makes me feel very alive. I would say that it clears me up inside and even takes with it everything that is ruminating in my mind. With patience and love it reminds me of myself, bringing me back to the present moment. It seems like a key that connects me with an amazing authenticity to my true nature, to my true self.
I looked more closely at the fir tree. It felt like the wind was making him feel good, too. Its branches danced gracefully and one might even say with a certain joy. There was a moment when a smile appeared on my face at the thought that he was dancing for me, trying to attract my attention with his tree language. As if it were a living picture, the lights of the sky behind him were portraying him, exalting even more the beauty of his silhouette and his movements. Other firs also grew at his sides and continued in a linear fashion along the entire length of the park, but I only had eyes for that one fir, it was a special fir.
I don’t remember how long I looked at the tree and reflected, but at one point it began to sparkle. I understood that I had finished my discovery and enjoyed that small park in the centre of Madrid. I took one last look at the tree. Under my eyes it had been much more than a fir tree in that jungle of cement and speed. With a pleasant sensation in my chest, I went in search of a cafeteria where I could take shelter and continue enjoying those golden minutes before facing another of my tasks, wonderfully less and less routine.