It´s almost 40 years when I climbed a “wall” in Margarita island. I wasn´t properly dressed, I just went there with part of my family (who picked me up to that beach) and I wanted to see the ocean from a better place.
That place wasn´t alone. There wasn´t a crowd I would feel I needed to run from but, I wanted to see how far I could see those who took me there, while the wind would refresh my face, the moment its breeze would comb my hair.
I started to walk with those boots I long. It wasn´t too complicated, I could find my way and, the more I climbed, I felt someone was watching me (and I didn´t knw why).
I enjoyed that moment. It was something new I was trying and, after a couple of days going to beaches, you may feel you´re getting bored.
My boots, my shorts and that T-shirt were my friends. The sun was hot enough and the breeze was more than gentle when it blew at my face. I can´t remember if I was there for several weeks but I wanted to see the ocean from a better place.
I wished my dad was there, I wished my family could see what I was doing and, suddenly, I heard several voices shouting at me: Who was yelling at me when I was alone?
-Don´t do it! Don´t do it! Someone insisted on.
I turned my back to see who was there crying on. There was a crowd of people I couldn't´t see who they were. Those who wore sun glasses and hats I did not know. Those who motioned their arms, as a warning (nor as waving goodbye) were absolutely unknown, because my loved ones were the nearer beach, somewhere else.
-Don´t go any further! It´s dangerous! They said.
The moment I recoiled in doubts when hearing them, one cactus hit my right leg when I turned back to pay attention to those words. When I looked back and down, I saw I was climbing a wall, not a simple cliff and, trying to get rid of the pain in my leg, I made a quick movement to pull those thorns out, but another bunch of them hit in my back, as simply as I was naked.
I have seen thorns before, but I never knew how they would be felt on my skin and, that time, I had to learn a new form of endurance; because there was no way to turning back and, if I tried, those cactus would hit me more.
I got nervous for few minutes. I´m used to hear my thoughts but I´m not used to people shooting giving me warnings and, that time, they stopped when they saw me in troubles with those thorns I got. How come I was so blind?
The noon was near. I could breathe because I liked that breeze kissing my perspiration and its winds were pushing my hurting back, as backing me up and up.
Those warnings, at the beginning, sounded me like those “Don´t you dare...” I hated to hear in my childhood. The lesson, at least that day, was not turning back and enduring the pain.
I wished my dad could have seen what I´ve done. I wished my scouting friends were there to do what I learned to do alone, because we also endured several things like this, when we walked ahead, not turning back, even at nights, when we made our “Koniek” exploring group.
I had forgotten how much a thorn hurts.
I had forgotten its pains, and the lesson I have learned to tolerate things.
Christianity, conversely, is a narrow way with no turning back. (pending)
