The Phoenix. Epilog.

I wake up in the middle of the night with a voice telling me a word. It is meaningless, but I know it is a name. It is my real name. I repeat it again and again to make sure I will remember it next morning. By next morning it is gone. I try and try again, but I can't remember it.
Next night I wake up again, the voice whispers a phrase. I know that it states what I came to this world for. Again, I try to fix it in my mind through repetition. Next morning I do remember it. It is in Spanish: "saco de sal, trigo". It is mythical. "I take (make) from salt, wheat". I don't know what it means, but as a metaphor, I feel the sense. Salt is dead, wheat is alive. Out of death, life. Ashes are salts. The Phoenix rebirths out of her own ashes through fire.
I am not allowed to discover the final mystery of life. But I can't help trying. Thanks to the Phoenix trail of signs I've discovered love again, I've discovered my native american soul, I feel part of an universal drama, both as a protagonist and a minimal actor. It is what it is. "I don't understand!" I shouted to myself once. And then I heard very clearly Julieta's voice: "Dad, this was not meant to be understood".
Back in La Malfatta, my family ranch, I am preparing a little piece of terrain. I call it The Stairways to Heaven. Actually there is an iron stair pointing to the West, "There' a feeling I get, when I look to the West". There's a little pond I made, and a lot of wild weeds, in contrast with the rest of the very clean and standard garden. Frogs and snakes and birds enjoy this little sanctuary. I will throw Julieta's ashes in this place. And hope someone does the same with mine. And we will give life.