En
una esencia rosa y azulada, desde aquel símbolo en las nubes, entre luz y
halos, descendió sobre todos y dijo:
“Os
escucho, os siento vibrar ahora en mi cuerpo. Vuestro ser envuelve y llena el
mío. Sois semillas dentro de mi útero, completando la luz que formo. Soy la Madre de la Tierra y la Madre de los Cielos, y
ustedes en el medio de mi cuerpo, son mis hijos y hermanos. Ahora puedo
sentirlos danzar y cantar en mi vientre… y soy feliz por ello.
Hace
tiempo un Gran Ángel descendió para Anunciar mi Concepción, y llamarme Madre.
Hoy Feliz me siento de que ya no sea un ángel, sino cientos de ángeles en la
tierra quienes anuncian desde mi vientre la Concepción de la Nueva Humanidad.
Sois
Vosotros la Nueva Concepción.”
'A friend of mine left the market two years
ago. He used to be one of the traders at my first firm, so we go back
ages. He had achieved what he set out to do when he started his career
in the markets. What a lucky guy - or so we thought. Here's the latest from our Highly Placed Professional He had escaped the daily trials and tribulations of the trading
floor - with a full pension, zero mortgage and a few canny investments.
Now only two years later, he's back at an agency broker. Why ?... ir mas abajo I met 'Rob' for lunch a few days back to catch up. It's
always difficult when a mate leaves the market. There just isn't the
same intimacy of being stuck in the trenches together, not to mention
the obvious lack of geographical proximity. The Bloomberg system has
such a hold on us market folk, that when someone drops off the system,
they tend to drop out of your life too.Anyway, like the ex-trader he was, he was somewhat circumspect as
to his plans, and I smelled a rat. Why was he no longer raving on about
day trading from home, or investing in a small 'stick and dog' farm in
North Devon ? Rob is 50ish like me, and he had qualified for a pension at two
firms. I'd looked up to him and considered he had escaped under the wire
when he left in a flourish of champagne and canapés in 2010. I doubt
there was one single professional at his leaving do who didn't feel a
stab of envy at Rob's prospects. He left us in miserable markets which
were in full Euro meltdown mode, uncertainty about our job prospects,
and he had got out aged 50 while the rest of us seemed doomed to
continue to retirement age, pushing our Zimmer into the office every
morning. I pictured Rob getting up, donning a silk dressing gown, fixing
fresh ground coffee and picking up the papers, while perusing his
positions on some sleek laptop (he lives in a pretty palatial gaffe in
Hertfordshire). Then there would be the pursuit of his 'business
interests', the occasional lunch in town, and of course bags of time to
golf, garden and gallivant around in his Porsche.Turns out, however, it's not like that at all.Remember what it's like when you are out of work and looking for a
job ? Well, that's what early retirement is apparently like. You find
yourself looking forward to the next meeting or lunch with someone. You
keep putting off jobs round the house and trips you have planned because
you simply don't have the motivation or the energy to get organised.
(Rob told me that he only got some focus back in the last 3 weeks of his
2 year break, when he knew he was about to start a new job!)It's a salutary tale. Rob really missed the buzz of the City,
which he admits is like a drug. He missed his work mates and lunches and
evening beers. He missed making money, and he missed the monthly pay
cheque. Most of all he missed being part of something really big.When you work here in the City you may not think about it that
way, but you are part of something really massive, something that
affects the whole planet. I guess when you totter down to the kitchen in
the morning and get it all second hand on TV, you're reduced to being
on the side-lines. A bit player, when you used to be the PLAYER!