We cling to words. We smile together with them, we hope and we embrace next to them, but mostly we fail to act on what our words denote. In fact, the acts of each one of us are touches which ratify sundry certainties of our souls, certainties which live everywhere but, above all, enliven us beyond and above everywhere. Words are complicated, acts are simple, permanently subject to an inflation of words but, in particular, subject to an overflow of consequences which embrace, for the greater good, our afflictions and the afflictions of our fellows.
Those who came to Galaţi to learn Yumeiho experienced a great joy. In some cases, the joy was so overwhelming that they confessed they felt like entering another world. In these few lines I will not claw hold of a presentation structured on the technical and practical coordinates of what happened, though the avalanche of information was overpowering. I don’t feel like writing by the book in order to carry on with my account, even if Yumeiho means, first of all and for an indeterminately long phase of learning, the assimilation of the techniques and precision in execution. That would only enable my own lack of skill in practice to contaminate a territory, namely, the territory of words, a territory on which the signatory of these lines boasts of a little more routine. In return, I am driven by an irresistible and delicious temptation, the temptation of trying to discover, if possible, and for now, just in words, a certain manner of getting closer to the spirit of Yumeiho.
We spent nine special days in Galaţi. They were so special that some of those who had chosen to attend resigned from speaking and started to smile and, most of the times, to even laugh out loud. A smile can be and, in truth, most of the times it actually is, the prelude of a presumed, yet ever so intense, apology of serenity. In fact, it is merely a hypostasis of what is natural. And the natural, which seems to be a burden of our nature, extends throughout those hands which make virtually everything, but, above all, they materialize the normality accompanied by smile. This is how things work with what we all call the manual Yumeiho therapy.
But, yet again, this is not how things work exclusively. In fact, nothing of what defies the limits of understanding and of living will ever stop… we smile in front of a restless motion of the curtain… so intense the motion is that we experience the permanent feeling of a moving scene also. You press with your finger in the present instance that it turns into presence. And how could you make a feast of your own presence other than constantly and eagerly pulling towards you, your head down, so down that it slowly but irreversibly turns into prayer… uninterrupted prayer.
I have no idea what Yumeiho is, and this lack of knowledge was pointed out to me more and more each day of the nine magical days. Yet, despite the fact this so beloved ignorance was growing, the simultaneity of another growth was felt beating inside my own heart. And so strongly it beat, that I suspected it wanted to teach me a lesson of spiritualization… a word but, above all, a way of being which did not seem strange to me, but which fluttered with life somewhere in the dusty crannies of my memory. I don’t know what Yumeiho is, unlike the way I don’t know what love is. I know how to spell them, I can describe what they unchain inside me, “chasing” me all the way to the serene skies of experiencing the state of Homo Significans, where I feel so “I”, but, still, I am an “I” in need of prayer, that whishes to fill its breath with the prayer that rises its tear drop to the heart of Christ.
When my heart beats in Yumeiho, this is the feeling of bringing back the natural in each of us. A natural which refers to the unconditioned giving and to the humbleness in receiving the gifts. When my breath invigorates me in Yumeiho, this is the welcoming of my fellows with the heart so opened that, in fact, it is infinitely opened. When my sight radiates Yumeiho, I know that a definite and ostentatious betrayal of mercantilism, opportunism, lie, hypocrisy and despair is reborn around me and within me. I still haven’t learned yet that hope is, in fact, the purest certainty of the heart, but what I learn now, always now, from the bringing into presence of the act of learning, is that the human kind started in hope and will persist in hope.
I don’t know how my way in learning how to give through Yumeiho will continue. The bright side is my lack of knowledge also refers to how this lesson will end. The brightest side lies in the certainty it will not come to an end, it will only come to completion. And what is completed is the result of genuine choice and of patience, which are symptoms of spiritualization.
We experience a constant prelude. We premeditate in an ostentatious colloquy. It’s like a dream which struggles to become transformation. It’s like a rain which rollicks before falling, feeding on the belief that the snow, while dreaming to become free through the act of melting, experiences the same aspiration to that ultimate smile which sets it free. Ever since Yumeiho has been so consistently part of my life, I live sunken in an avalanche of emotions, gestures, looks, sounds, all anticipating a constant beginning, all of these being the beginning. At present, for me, an anonymous prisoner of words, wandering in the realm of meanings and of the bustle of metaphors, Yumeiho is the first genuine pilgrimage.
