I am MZ, and since my youth, I have seen philosophy as one of the most radical experiences that befall humankind, for the matters it addresses are not merely technical problems, but rather mysteries of life, symbols that must be unveiled. Thus, this knowledge will always be a desire for transparency and a task of constructing and interpreting symbols, which is why one of the fundamental themes of my work has been the analysis of poetic reason. I have also reflected on what I have called “the knowledge of the soul” and on the urgency of the divine in human life.

I have also written about hope (the hunger to bring to fulfillment what we only carry in project), love (the hunger to engender in beauty: it is fulfilled when it engenders physically or intellectually, creating a body or knowledge), fear (the worst thing about fear is that it frightens), peace (a gift bestowed upon men of good will: it comes as the residue of a higher glory, a glimmer on earth of the authority that conquers without leaving the vanquished)…

However, I find nothing more decisive in a life than speaking of one’s own origins. Since nothing has begun solely through the personal intervention of each of us, the sacred force of humankind’s appearance in the world and of all that exists within it is intertwined with the authority of our parents. This is because parents are more than just beings of flesh and blood who have given birth to us. They give us a name: through it, we have a clear origin, we emerge from being one person to become someone specific, we belong to a lineage, and we have a destiny.

Thus, from the moment we are born, we are, first and foremost, children, heirs, and continuers of our parents. Because of this, we feel bound and obligated. This is how the living chain that forms real history is created. As custodians of its continuity, we are all, in some way, responsible for that history. Alongside this historical responsibility, we must also consider the responsibility of humility: having been conceived, we can only be aware of our limitations in the face of our origin. To be a child is to have to answer for something undeniable: the existence we owe to our parents.

But being a child also means being endowed with trust, growing up in the shadow of a protective force whose mercy is never doubted. And this is the fundamental education upon which any subsequent enlightenment must be built. Because it is life’s first experience, the original and decisive encounter, from which everything else springs. It is irreplaceable. It is difficult to believe in anything in existence if we have not grown up in this way, feeling guided by a strong yet gentle hand that knows how to measure, our fragility bound to an invulnerable principle. To be a child is to feel the weight of the most inexorable demands and, at the same time, the support of the most unconditional love.

No catastrophe in life can take away this innate trust of one who was guided paternally in their first steps. No resentment can erase from the soul the weight of this tenderness from above. No injustice can banish from their spirit the radical hope with which one who has truly had parents views life: they are the deepest foundation of a peaceful soul.

( María Zambrano, from Málaga, who lived from 1904 to 1991, received her academic training from Ortega y Gasset, García Morente, and Zubiri. In 1939, she left Spain, not returning until 1984, after living in exile in various countries in the Americas and Europe. During this time, she was a professor of philosophy in Mexico and Havana and widely known throughout Latin America for her lectures and writings: *The Intellectuals in the Drama of Spain*, *Philosophy and Poetry*, *Towards a Knowledge of the Soul*, *Man and the Divine*, etc. Among her many accolades are the Cervantes Prize and the Prince of Asturias Award for Communication and Humanities—in both cases, she was the first woman to receive them—and an honorary doctorate from the University of Málaga .)

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