Who Owns the Cariló Forest?

Wandering through the awe-inspiring beauty of the Cariló forest, reminiscent of German Romantic writers seeking inspiration in nature, can be a profound experience. Amidst the imposing presence of ancient trees, questions naturally arise: Who conceived the ambitious endeavor of making these green giants sprout from barren dunes? Who has patiently cultivated and protected them from destructive storms for over a century? Who now bears the cherished mission of preserving them, even at the expense of their own economic interests or architectural plans? And to whom will the guardianship of their future be entrusted?

In essence, who owns this forest? Is it the Guerrero family and the early pioneers, the current inhabitants, merchants, and tourists, their descendants, or perhaps all of them? These inquiries, elevated to a transcendent plane, are equivalent to asking who is responsible for its past, present, and future. In other words, they challenge the wanderer to consider who is concerned with the passage of time, which, paraphrasing Shakespeare, is man's mortal enemy, or, to be more epic, his principal challenge.

From Tito Livio's stoic drive to remember everything, to the Epicureans' fleeting carpe diem, from Borges's memory-driven endeavors to Vox Dei's youthful anthem to the "Present," humanity has sought answers to these questions amidst the uncertainties of art and philosophy and the certainties of theology. Generation after generation has aspired to master time, perhaps by planting a tree, raising a child, and writing a book, an existential axiom now outdated. In today's language, this translates to "I do as I please" for those in power and "my pet will inherit" for others, exalting the model of the titan Cronos, who devoured his own offspring to postpone the deluge as long as possible, as Louis XV once announced.

However, whether we desire it or not, as time currently has no end, regardless of the philosophy or theology we choose, the Cariló forest will remain standing, a testament reminding us that we can aspire to be whatever we wish: a fleeting moment observing the graceful sway of its crowns in the sea breeze, an invocation to commit to its uncertain destiny, or perhaps the intuition that its enigma lies in being responsible for uniting its past with its future. In its essence, the forest's variegated majesty represents an allegory of the potential transcendence of the past.