I like this....Merry Christmas...Parental Advisory: Deep and appropriate vulgar language is expressed without the class and acceptance of authority...haaa haaa. Regardless nice composition of beats, lyrics, message and style.
Perplexed
I carry Spanish genetics and with this I share in the Imperial tragedy known as greed. I carry other genes, but the most embarrassing is Spanish. The memes have been diluted with humility and spirituality but the historical impact of my ancestor is a reminder of the stupidity that a part of me descended from. The Spanish established the first market for corruption, greed, and exploitation in these Americas.
The Spanish brought the maniacal qualities that corrode symbiosis like corruption, conceit, and reckless ambition. The Spanish introduced Jihad to the Arawak nation. This has since opened a thoroughfare for other injustices. The Spanish free for all seemed to normalize corruption and inhumanity, to the point of dehumanizing indigenous peoples. They propagated a sinful European culture of cheaters. This is not to lump the entire Spanish culture into the category of Imperialists. Interpretations of history tell us that at the time of Columbus, 98% of Spain was peasant class, meaning that the top 2% were royalty or the catholic church. It was the ambition of the these top 2% that financed and gave birth to the demand for what the Americas had to offer. Not too different from today's top percentiles.
I am dissolving the dogmatic structures that have calcified my cultural and religious joints to learn to extend my human appendages like collaboration, concern, community, and altruistic reciprocity. This dissolving of hardened memes is painful, discouraging, uncertain, and scary. It is an attempt at seeking forgiveness for the savagery of those I feel connected to in the past. And for today it helps me be an advocate against the same stupidity I recognize in today's elite percentiles.
Hipocrita
So when I look at this in front of the Albuquerque Museum I question the valiance and prestige that I once held for my Spanish heritage. It is easier to sift through this proverbial bath water, before throwing out the waste. But in continuation of what was discussed below to honor the gallant without disclosing the savage is distressing.
How you see them contradicts how you see them
Above you can see the advantages of being of the dominant white culture. In these images I see a contradictory perception, belief, and prejudice towards the emigrant. I got some parking tickets and had to go downtown and pay to have a boot removed. So as I was walking toward the payment location I saw this memorial to the "pioneer mother". How romantic the word pioneer is, yet equally unwelcome. This infuriated me because once again when a white soul is restless it is memorialized, honored, and even encouraged. But when a darker featured soul shares the same passion, we are seen as a nuisance, a burden, and criminals. The placard below this "memorial" to white emigrants read “To the pioneer mother of America, through whose courage and sacrifice the desert has blossomed, the camp became a home, the blazed trail a thoroughfare.”
I say with slight hesitancy, "Fuck that!" It should have read, "To the struggling poor, restless, and desperate refugee, may she remind her children that her reckless survival will lead to devastating demolition of many cultures and beliefs, while her offspring will exploit and disregard the hope of others who are still emigrating from despair and distress."
If interested or by chance you are on 4th street and Lomas this statue stands facing west about 200m north of Lomas. Likewise, you'll likely never see the other woman and her child, because they are being taught to hide, evade, and be ashamed. For the struggles of emigrants who are seeking a meaningful life, I honor you, and hope your humanity shines its best light.
So this is Christmas
So this is Christmas, a celebration with too many flavors. For me the childish fervor has long been overshadowed by the abrasive maturating process. I miss the simplicity of knowing this is the best time of the year. In many ways it is. New Mexico, or I should say its people, like many other places and peoples around the world, have embraced Christmas' invitation to prepare for newness with food, song, presents, and community. It is a time that has caused battles to pause, enemies to forgive, and strangers to bond. If only for a collections of days at the end of a calendar year, humanity can and does teeter towards compassion, peace, and forgiveness. So with perplexing circumstances still enthralling our American lives, I hope you find ways to have a Happy Christmas.
Make my heart a manger, so in case a miracle child should need a warm place to be born, I might be just enough.
Thankful not for Liberty but servitude...
This post is yet another diatribe of my feeble attempt at remaining Catholic. I have reached a point in my understanding of history, my life, my education, my ideals, my values, and my faith to know that I am Catholic only by a thread. I am only catholic for those who remain in bondage, for those who still understand so well the idea of suffering. I am Catholic in a small dose for myself, because I can recognize only in glimpses my own powerlessness. So this bondage leaves me thankful. I think the purpose of service has been scapegoated by prosperity. I am a servant only to be reimbursed. My deviant oppressions are embarrassing enough for me to understand that grace is all I can hope for.
Jesus is the only prophet that I have been thoroughly taught about, He is known to me only through cultural bias. I am thankful for His teaching because knowing of Him, believing His teaching, and doing my best to live in His framework has created in me a humanism that is losing liberty and gaining loyalty to bonded contribution. I am spoiled by liberty and humbled by faith in being a servant of a mystical trinity. One inspires me to advance, while the other motivates me bow soulfully. This tension is held by a thin and delicate thread of faith. This thanksgiving is a paradoxically an appreciation for healthy contradiction to liberty...servant-hood.
Jesus is the only prophet that I have been thoroughly taught about, He is known to me only through cultural bias. I am thankful for His teaching because knowing of Him, believing His teaching, and doing my best to live in His framework has created in me a humanism that is losing liberty and gaining loyalty to bonded contribution. I am spoiled by liberty and humbled by faith in being a servant of a mystical trinity. One inspires me to advance, while the other motivates me bow soulfully. This tension is held by a thin and delicate thread of faith. This thanksgiving is a paradoxically an appreciation for healthy contradiction to liberty...servant-hood.
It is there, now reach
There is so much about life that is never seen, experienced, or tasted. There are so many opportunities never seized. I have solved most of my opportunities with expectations and simulated thoughts based on fear and unfortunately expected failure, leading me to never seize the opportunity, never trying. So late in my life, almost feeling like too late in my life, I have learned the value in trying. As I get better at trying my rooted cynical frameworks are unraveling being replaced with a bedrock of fearless freedom. I have a freedom to fail. In fact failure is a companion. I have learned that failure can smile with me. When I see failure, I say hey, good to see you again, I hope we make this a habit, do you mind if I invite my hommie success, by the way I would never have met success without being introduced to you, so gracias. I have this idea that if I fail it will be discouraging, but I also have faith in opportunity and being capable of what seems unreachable......all I have to keep doing is reach.
Thanks to our Veterans
There is much to be criticized about our military, and we rarely do in our public spaces. This day is for honoring the willingness to die, a willingness to commit completely to something greater, and a willingness to trust intentions. My wish for our military leaders is to not romanticize others sacrifice but genuinely digest the dignity, integrity, and valor that is so abundant as a consequence to their sacrifice. In laymen terms, don't exploit the gift of patriotism.
A hole in the Soul
Mi amigo, you put a big hole in me.
you created space to be filled with newness.
show me what you'll fill it with.
father you slapped me with your words.
there is now a red mark on my face.
How will you explain this to your audience.
mother you scarred me with your vengeance.
now you're asking me to hate gently.
How can something so fragile be so destructive.
Hey you boy, shut your mouth!
Hey you kid, know your place!
Mi amigo make the hole bigger,
because I have so much to fill it with.
by Ronald Estrada
The revolutionaries become the empire
What an amazing disclosure of reality...maybe only John Perkin's, a reality non the less.
Ignorance isn't always bliss....
This is unbelievably moronic. Thought you'd like to add to the other pile of moronic stuff out there. Also it would be informative if you watch the whole thing.
Washichu's Disruption
Washichu (Wah-she-chew) noun : That who takes the best meat.
A natural quality of being human is unfortunately destruction. Many dominant cultures describe progress as requiring destruction of old in order to bring forth newness. Even nature realizes this principle. One thing nature does not tolerate is persistent abuse. This reminds me of the quality that pain creates in humans.
Pain and suffering feeds the Washichu's belly. I think pain is an abstract concept that can be explained in so many ways, it isn't worth delving into now. I am just reminded how the land of prosperity is lined with the skulls of the trusting, benefactor, exploited, and memorials to trustees. Yes it is lined with the oppressed and the oppressor.
I come from a culture of scavengers who have convinced ourselves that we have earned our keep. I come from a culture that also has sowers who are considerate of every action. Both live in me. I speak for myself and own my label as a "mooch", but I am also a contributor, always weary of the pain that creates fear and insecurity leading to selfish and exploitative actions. I refuse to forget those who are destined to be dissolved, neglected, and cheated. For now its a measly blog post, but I hope and pray that I will have the opportunity to place a large mirror in front of Washichu around the country in the hopes seeing a reflection will inspire responsibility and health.
Confront the Washichu in you and I ask that you remind of the Washichu in me. Don't dismantle a culture, a people, a race, and a sustainable lifestyle because we as a country cannot teach interconnectedness, synchronicity, collaboration, compromise, and respect. Or help me understand how injustice is a reasonable consequence.
A Reminder of Social Cancer:
A natural quality of being human is unfortunately destruction. Many dominant cultures describe progress as requiring destruction of old in order to bring forth newness. Even nature realizes this principle. One thing nature does not tolerate is persistent abuse. This reminds me of the quality that pain creates in humans.
Pain and suffering feeds the Washichu's belly. I think pain is an abstract concept that can be explained in so many ways, it isn't worth delving into now. I am just reminded how the land of prosperity is lined with the skulls of the trusting, benefactor, exploited, and memorials to trustees. Yes it is lined with the oppressed and the oppressor.
I come from a culture of scavengers who have convinced ourselves that we have earned our keep. I come from a culture that also has sowers who are considerate of every action. Both live in me. I speak for myself and own my label as a "mooch", but I am also a contributor, always weary of the pain that creates fear and insecurity leading to selfish and exploitative actions. I refuse to forget those who are destined to be dissolved, neglected, and cheated. For now its a measly blog post, but I hope and pray that I will have the opportunity to place a large mirror in front of Washichu around the country in the hopes seeing a reflection will inspire responsibility and health.
Confront the Washichu in you and I ask that you remind of the Washichu in me. Don't dismantle a culture, a people, a race, and a sustainable lifestyle because we as a country cannot teach interconnectedness, synchronicity, collaboration, compromise, and respect. Or help me understand how injustice is a reasonable consequence.
A Reminder of Social Cancer:
Sexual Dysfunction
I think cultural influences are significant, not only from parents,
religion, or pop culture but also from peers. I come from a patriarchal
culture where in some unhealthy cases men look to control and women have
been marginalized. My New Mexican culture, a derivative of the more
general Latino culture, in reflection has a strong power component. I
think for me there is a unhealthy expression of control that has come
from shared cultural attitudes. This is not to generalize about New
Mexican men but to shed light on a tragic reality for me. I think
cultural maturity is a strong influence on what is modeled.
A course I am taking allowed me to encounter sexual dysfunction. I learned that the clinical understanding of dysfunction is liberal. The clinical understanding gets real objective as the disruptions to normalcy get psychologically or physically measurable. This made me think about the more abstract characteristic like attitude.
I think attitudes towards sex can also be considered dysfunctional, but attitudes are intangible and difficult to treat. I had a distorted cultural understanding of sex, in which women were objectified and treated as accomplishments. I think learning about how to be a good friend is an appropriate segue to learning to be a healthy intimate partner, and hopefully by this time a good foundation has been establish allowing for the same principles to be applied towards the advanced relationship experiences like commitment and sex. I learned mostly how to be sexual from guarded conversation with close friends, making adjustments motivated by insecurity and expectation, never really knowing if what I was experiencing was normal. I think as the more fundamental characteristics of myself have matured so have my more advanced understandings of the opposite sex, the value of sexual intimacy and sanctity of intentional procreation. I like to reiterate that we are a species of economics and what we invest in emotionally, psychologically, resourcefully, and behaviorally is highly influenced by what seems normal.
Again with disappointment, I realize the only way to treat an attitude might be to start with altering my own.
A course I am taking allowed me to encounter sexual dysfunction. I learned that the clinical understanding of dysfunction is liberal. The clinical understanding gets real objective as the disruptions to normalcy get psychologically or physically measurable. This made me think about the more abstract characteristic like attitude.
I think attitudes towards sex can also be considered dysfunctional, but attitudes are intangible and difficult to treat. I had a distorted cultural understanding of sex, in which women were objectified and treated as accomplishments. I think learning about how to be a good friend is an appropriate segue to learning to be a healthy intimate partner, and hopefully by this time a good foundation has been establish allowing for the same principles to be applied towards the advanced relationship experiences like commitment and sex. I learned mostly how to be sexual from guarded conversation with close friends, making adjustments motivated by insecurity and expectation, never really knowing if what I was experiencing was normal. I think as the more fundamental characteristics of myself have matured so have my more advanced understandings of the opposite sex, the value of sexual intimacy and sanctity of intentional procreation. I like to reiterate that we are a species of economics and what we invest in emotionally, psychologically, resourcefully, and behaviorally is highly influenced by what seems normal.
Again with disappointment, I realize the only way to treat an attitude might be to start with altering my own.
Healing....it is a Risk
I am finding, the more I learn about illness, the body, and science, that what I do is "risk". I take chances. We spend our youth, learning what it means to risk. I have used the feedback from my environments to justify my next risk. As an adolescent I recognized how profitable risk were. I lose site of qualities like consequence, responsibility, ramifications, and failure. As I have aged I have been deflated, marginalized, broken, and lost. This feedback has adjusted my sense of confidence and calibrated my respect for risk.
I am approaching the paradox between innovation and tradition. Being traditional lends itself to conservatism. When I attach to my traditions, I become a conservative. When I reject the tradition I risk the way of the innovator. I find that there is always need for innovation and I see there is always value for custom. I am finding that neither is any fun without the stress from the other. This has inspired the scientist in me. I am ready and eager to experiment. I am wanting to take some risk.
Learn
"Stay close to nature and its eternal laws will protect you."
- Max Gerson
I recently had the opportunity to visit a private school here in Albuquerque. The campus was dazzling, snuggled right up to the bosque, merging not only two cultures, but many philosophies. Freedom from public school dogma is expensive. Freedom to teach what you want is a luxury. This school is living both. The school is a contribution of the Ford family, not sure if it is the Fords affiliated with Ford motors but regardless a family with enough money to build a private school, and it system a gift of creative minds. Who is it serving?
Yeah there is a part of me that says this is unfair. How dare some outsider come to my bosque and buy and build a place of elite learning, that will likely serve the richest few while 3 miles down river, those kids, get the standard. That pit bull in me, a persona I carry, which is not told to stay quiet, but is validated, appreciated, and soothed. The strong gentle black woman in me, suggest I consider the little minds being cultivated. Then the wise wrinkled viejito, slowy and mindfully claps for both, his old calloused hands make a muffled deep clap, contributing to my thoughts, mijo the bosque is not yours, it is lent to you by eternity. Then lastly the fragile abuela spirit, softly adds, mi amor, be joyful someone is benefiting, be happy for those who are there, be thankful for those who are creating it, Que Dios los bendiga.
And now my response is confused and sad. Where have our...New Mexican... teachers, creators, and advocates gone? Where is our Garcia Fund? Where has the passion for learning disappeared to and why do our communities smoulder? Be the change.....be the change...let the anger fuel the creative engine, let the jealousy feed the stomach of motivation. and let the exhaust be a mist of love.
Selfish
Selfishness has served its purpose in my life, enduring to this day. It is said by some that selfishness can be healthy. I don't know how to gauge or measure my levels of selfishness. I am finding it hard to know how my selfishness is received by others. As long as my selfishness is serving me I rarely take into consideration how it is effecting others. How can I better listen for evidence or symptoms of unhealthy selfishness?
I think the only assessment tools that I have to work with right now are my emotions. Right now I can only sit with my guilt, regrets, and confusion. There is a grip (a lot) of meaningful emotions in these. I also bring my hopes into my consciousness. My hopes put strain on my internal critic. My critic has no tolerance for hope, and it sort of creates a lactic acid to keep me from remaining to long in hope. After the fatigue of reality sets in, I am sore with discouragement. I think the economy linked to emotions is revealing how exploitative I am. Emotional economy, a concept in my mind where I broker the supply and demand of spiritual aspects of them for spiritual aspects of me.
In working through selfishness I recognize how reckless being selfish has allowed me to be. I have recently felt responsible for only my emotions, but in this moment I am softening to the idea that I am accountable to how I contribute to other's emotions. I think I am beginning to realize that desire also creeps in looking a lot like hope. I think I can watch for how people I admire value selfishness, and fake it until I make it.
I think the only assessment tools that I have to work with right now are my emotions. Right now I can only sit with my guilt, regrets, and confusion. There is a grip (a lot) of meaningful emotions in these. I also bring my hopes into my consciousness. My hopes put strain on my internal critic. My critic has no tolerance for hope, and it sort of creates a lactic acid to keep me from remaining to long in hope. After the fatigue of reality sets in, I am sore with discouragement. I think the economy linked to emotions is revealing how exploitative I am. Emotional economy, a concept in my mind where I broker the supply and demand of spiritual aspects of them for spiritual aspects of me.
In working through selfishness I recognize how reckless being selfish has allowed me to be. I have recently felt responsible for only my emotions, but in this moment I am softening to the idea that I am accountable to how I contribute to other's emotions. I think I am beginning to realize that desire also creeps in looking a lot like hope. I think I can watch for how people I admire value selfishness, and fake it until I make it.
Green Chile
I prefer red chile over my eggs
and potatoes for breakfast.
Red chile ristras decorate my door,
dry on my roof, and hang from eaves.
They lend open-air vegetable stands
historical grandeur, and gently swing
with an air of festive welcome.
I can hear them talking in the wind,
haggard, yellowing, crisp, rasping
tongues of old men, licking the breeze.
But grandmother loves green chile.
When I visit her,
she holds the green chile pepper
in her wrinkled hands.
Ah, voluptuous, masculine,
an air of authority and youth simmers
from its swan-neck stem, tapering to a flowery collar,
fermenting resinous spice.
A well-dressed gentleman at the door
my grandmother takes sensuously in her hand,
rubbing its firm glossed sides,
caressing the oily rubbery serpent,
with mouth -watering fulfillment,
fondling its curves with gentle fingers.
Its bearing magnificent and taut
as flanks of a tiger in mid-leap,
she thrusts her blade into
and cuts it open, with lust
on her hot mouth, sweating over the stove,
bandanna round her forehead,
mysterious passion on her face
as she serves me green chile con carne
between soft warm leaves of corn tortillas,
with beans and rice–her sacrifice
to here little prince.
I slurp form my plate
with last bit of tortilla, my mouth burns
and I hiss and drink a tall glass of cold water.
All over New Mexico, sunburned men and women
drive rickety trucks stuffed with gunny sacks
of green chile, from Belen, Beguita, Wllard, Estancia,
San Antonio y Socorro, from fields
to roadside stands, you see them roasting green chile
in screen-sided homemade barrels, and for a dollar a bag,
we relive this old, beautiful ritual again and again.
Jimmy Santiago Baca
and potatoes for breakfast.
Red chile ristras decorate my door,
dry on my roof, and hang from eaves.
They lend open-air vegetable stands
historical grandeur, and gently swing
with an air of festive welcome.
I can hear them talking in the wind,
haggard, yellowing, crisp, rasping
tongues of old men, licking the breeze.
But grandmother loves green chile.
When I visit her,
she holds the green chile pepper
in her wrinkled hands.
Ah, voluptuous, masculine,
an air of authority and youth simmers
from its swan-neck stem, tapering to a flowery collar,
fermenting resinous spice.
A well-dressed gentleman at the door
my grandmother takes sensuously in her hand,
rubbing its firm glossed sides,
caressing the oily rubbery serpent,
with mouth -watering fulfillment,
fondling its curves with gentle fingers.
Its bearing magnificent and taut
as flanks of a tiger in mid-leap,
she thrusts her blade into
and cuts it open, with lust
on her hot mouth, sweating over the stove,
bandanna round her forehead,
mysterious passion on her face
as she serves me green chile con carne
between soft warm leaves of corn tortillas,
with beans and rice–her sacrifice
to here little prince.
I slurp form my plate
with last bit of tortilla, my mouth burns
and I hiss and drink a tall glass of cold water.
All over New Mexico, sunburned men and women
drive rickety trucks stuffed with gunny sacks
of green chile, from Belen, Beguita, Wllard, Estancia,
San Antonio y Socorro, from fields
to roadside stands, you see them roasting green chile
in screen-sided homemade barrels, and for a dollar a bag,
we relive this old, beautiful ritual again and again.
Jimmy Santiago Baca
Taking Medicine
Can sickness be desired? Is it wrong for me to deny or detour someone on the path of sickness? I am enjoying this concept of illness and wellness. I believe that the well have a formula for being well. I have begun to consider that well is a polarity that needs to be balanced with being ill. Is the formula for being ill just as worthy of praise as the formula for health. Does illness lead to death? A wise man in my circle of faith a long time ago said that a grain of wheat must fall and die for it to produce more seeds. I think I am needing to have more respect for illness that leads to death. Mystically, I think illness has something to say in this world, even potentially teach us. Is the medicine available to me a muzzle on illness' advocate. If I see illness as an intruder then I treat it with disdain, I am aspiring to see it as a messenger who ultimately wants to deliver good news. Even the worst of us wants to be heard.
El buen lenguaje
This won't make much sense to anyone who values correctness. It doesn't mean that I value incorrectness, but I am comfortable enough to understand that correctness is a paradox between appropriate and faulty. There is a monopoly on correct answers and it belongs to the privileged. It is revealed in our languages and validated by tradition, defined by linguists. As I work with my daughters to expand their understanding of themselves and the world, we are stretching our vocabularies. I find that it is a "both and" circumstance. Both and meaning that it takes time to realize the words we know are not enough to express ourselves appropriately and the "and" is how there are words that are unfitting and others that are preferred. It is rarely the under-served that are allowed to set the preference. So our foundational method for communicating and expressing ourselves is discriminant and polluted by preference, privilege, and suitability.
Curanderismo
Over a year ago I created this blog because I felt drawn to healing, but not healing that is know to my American mind. I don't have the confidence, education, or resources to pursue a medical degree. Despite these limitations I still have a passion for wellness. I have chosen to expand my knowledge of people, the body, and my faith, both through education and opportunity. I have a strong intuition that medicine is not as definable as Blue Cross & Blue Shield or United Health would like us to believe. I am wanting to liberate myself from the dogmatic beliefs I have towards medicine.
This summer I participated in a course here at UNM. I touched and bridged a hope I started in 2010 by creating this blog. There is a lot about me that is learning to be genuine, this course motivated me to continue transcending the rest of me.
This summer I participated in a course here at UNM. I touched and bridged a hope I started in 2010 by creating this blog. There is a lot about me that is learning to be genuine, this course motivated me to continue transcending the rest of me.
Triage
In the software industry there is a balance between innovation and maintenance. This healthy balance allows the industry to both sustain and grow. The risk for future health is found in the risk a group is willing to make in spending time in innovative research or the maintenance of health. I find a gap in how we see cultural systems. Unfortunately cultural systems are not evidently profitable like software is. So cultural systems appear to be unworthy of innovation or investment. When a cultural system is broken or buggy, few in society are willing to investigate the source code. Many prefer swapping or outsourcing cultural systems.
So what does this do to the broken cultural system? In software a buggy system can be addressed in a spectrum of ways from by being rewritten all the way to being retired. There is intentionality to fix a system that is influenced by profitability. Our value for human systems is not as dualistic or motivating as our monetary profits. With human systems retirement is shamed, but attempted in the evidence of genocide. In software buggy is identifiable, but in human systems I have come to understand buggy as subjective. Or possibly I am refusing to see in the computing world that there are often systems design for broken processes. In may human systems I see how the system is functional and productive but is expected to function in a broken process. Our indigenous cultures represent these functional and productive systems. The broken processes I see as the consumer mentality, the convenience hoarding, and the power dependence.
As a potential professional in the helping arena I am worried that the incentive that we are pursuing is simply triage.
So what does this do to the broken cultural system? In software a buggy system can be addressed in a spectrum of ways from by being rewritten all the way to being retired. There is intentionality to fix a system that is influenced by profitability. Our value for human systems is not as dualistic or motivating as our monetary profits. With human systems retirement is shamed, but attempted in the evidence of genocide. In software buggy is identifiable, but in human systems I have come to understand buggy as subjective. Or possibly I am refusing to see in the computing world that there are often systems design for broken processes. In may human systems I see how the system is functional and productive but is expected to function in a broken process. Our indigenous cultures represent these functional and productive systems. The broken processes I see as the consumer mentality, the convenience hoarding, and the power dependence.
As a potential professional in the helping arena I am worried that the incentive that we are pursuing is simply triage.
cultural blister
education can alienate. I often think about why I do the things I do. mostly i do things with narcisistic intentions. I chose to go to school so that could get a good job. I chose my path of study so that I could get good pay. this was the message my parents were fed. this message is true to some extent. what it doesn't explain or help is the cultural stigmas that I wear. it doesn't explain my insecurities. it didn't consider the consequences for becoming educated. and maybe because the consequences are unique to my experiences. the metaphor I have is the blister.
education is an abrasive experience that rubbed raw an unwilling area of my understanding. like a hand on a shovel doing work, strenuous and repetitive work. the area I picture as tender is my communal attachments. I feel like I these communal attachments were worn to a raw friction filled sore. In the process of educating myself I was also distancing myself from my communities that I had functioned in and become comfortable in. I was distancing myself and moving toward connections that are ironically despised by the communal attachments that had embraced me for so long. the distance puts me in a place I call my cultural blister.
is it coincidence that the educational system is dominated by the white culture? are white people better learners? did I have to leave my communal attachments to be productive? in the barrio I am labeled at times a sell out, coconut, or oreo. now in this blistered area I find it difficult in expressing this sadness about choosing my educational route. acculturated people become nervous, defensive, concerned, when I talk about brown, black, and white. I feel obligated to forget the distinctions that reality uses to create advantage. i think it is easier to dismiss the injustice when you are the benefactor. I cannot and will likely never see without prejudice.
I see this sensitivity as the unwilling to touch the sore and raw edges of the cultural blister. in more graphic description this space is filled with puss protecting and obstructing me from confronting the wounded area. I am isolated in this luminal blistered area longing for the simplicity I left in my barrio lifestyle. I feel isolated in my insecurity for participating and contributing to this blistered space. I feel isolated in my hatred for this educational work that divides and has my communal attachments believing that they are lesser. I am suffocated in this pool of puss that compresses my desire to escape the constant pain of knowing I chose this path.
in the metaphor the blister can pop. what will help this callous is either more work or intentionality to break the blister. where I am this morning is fatigue.
education is an abrasive experience that rubbed raw an unwilling area of my understanding. like a hand on a shovel doing work, strenuous and repetitive work. the area I picture as tender is my communal attachments. I feel like I these communal attachments were worn to a raw friction filled sore. In the process of educating myself I was also distancing myself from my communities that I had functioned in and become comfortable in. I was distancing myself and moving toward connections that are ironically despised by the communal attachments that had embraced me for so long. the distance puts me in a place I call my cultural blister.
is it coincidence that the educational system is dominated by the white culture? are white people better learners? did I have to leave my communal attachments to be productive? in the barrio I am labeled at times a sell out, coconut, or oreo. now in this blistered area I find it difficult in expressing this sadness about choosing my educational route. acculturated people become nervous, defensive, concerned, when I talk about brown, black, and white. I feel obligated to forget the distinctions that reality uses to create advantage. i think it is easier to dismiss the injustice when you are the benefactor. I cannot and will likely never see without prejudice.
I see this sensitivity as the unwilling to touch the sore and raw edges of the cultural blister. in more graphic description this space is filled with puss protecting and obstructing me from confronting the wounded area. I am isolated in this luminal blistered area longing for the simplicity I left in my barrio lifestyle. I feel isolated in my insecurity for participating and contributing to this blistered space. I feel isolated in my hatred for this educational work that divides and has my communal attachments believing that they are lesser. I am suffocated in this pool of puss that compresses my desire to escape the constant pain of knowing I chose this path.
in the metaphor the blister can pop. what will help this callous is either more work or intentionality to break the blister. where I am this morning is fatigue.
Touching Fear
This weekend I took three very special ladies on an outdoor adventure. Two are my daughters. It had been a very long time since I had backpacked. It had been a long time since I had felt a cold morning. It had been a long time since I had visions of mountain lion attacks, disastrous falls, or spooking a sow and her cubs. When backpacking, every little object holds value. Every little object has weight, adding to a load I am responsible for. There are so many meaningful messages, metaphors, and symbols for a good poem in the backpackers mindset. The best for me is the idea of touching fear. I wanted my daughters to touch the sky this weekend. I wanted them to touch fear. I wanted to share that experience with them. We did it. There is a restlessness that I enter into when in the wild.
I question what type of father I am daily. This past weekend I took my daughters to attempt Mt. Sneffels. It is a 14ner, know as a peak being 14,000 ft above sea level. I was hoping that this would be a challenging experience for all of us. It was. I had a lot of hesitation about taking a 8 & 11 year olds up a mountain that many adults would struggle climbing. I added to the risk by making this my first attempt as well. I had never seen what we were going up against. Added to that risk my daughters have never been backpacking. Added to that risk my daughters have not been above 10,000 ft for longer than a few hours. My desire for them to experience the enormity of earth outweighed the sensibility of being safe. I wanted to teach my daughters about risk and calculating safety. I wanted to give them a real analogy to work with when life becomes a 14ner. We touched fear.
We were a team. There was four of us. Stephanie, my partner and relationship fear factor, was thought to be a risk on this trip, but complemented the experience. The four of us experimented with our fears, ambitions, and the space between. More on this trip to come.
Guatemalan Soldiers Sentenced to 6,060 Years in Prison for Role in 1982 Massacre
Guatemalan Soldiers Sentenced to 6,060 Years in Prison for Role in 1982 Massacre
When we are taught about what we contribute to the world as prideful Americans, we have a habit of NOTrecognizing our blemishes. I think this is my greatest lesson learned in life, thus far. How can I do a better job of recognizing my blemishes? what is it about my perception of American culture and my belief that we are selfish. I feel we do such a shitty job of taking responsibility for our blemishes. And it is likely that I still cannot do a good job of prosecuting myself. It is likely that the prosecution itself is the problem. Why would anyone want to be prosecuted. Maybe more like an intervention. What makes a country act moronic? I think it is the same thing that makes a person act moronic. In my opinion at root it's a lack of respect and connection to a tradition rooted in symbiosis wilth resources, craving, and the unknowable. I think what the fuck do I know
When we are taught about what we contribute to the world as prideful Americans, we have a habit of NOTrecognizing our blemishes. I think this is my greatest lesson learned in life, thus far. How can I do a better job of recognizing my blemishes? what is it about my perception of American culture and my belief that we are selfish. I feel we do such a shitty job of taking responsibility for our blemishes. And it is likely that I still cannot do a good job of prosecuting myself. It is likely that the prosecution itself is the problem. Why would anyone want to be prosecuted. Maybe more like an intervention. What makes a country act moronic? I think it is the same thing that makes a person act moronic. In my opinion at root it's a lack of respect and connection to a tradition rooted in symbiosis wilth resources, craving, and the unknowable. I think what the fuck do I know
Serving Our Country
I find it interesting that close to half the people in the United States consider the government a gravy train. Yet these same folks jump at the opportunity to praise our military, firemen, police, and other duty oriented service bureaucracies. It is as if, the teacher, social worker, or environmental regulator, are something different. These folks are serving our country too. It blows me away how quickly the conservative philosophy calls for smaller government and contradicts its support of service to country. In fact they support the privatization of just about everything which, in turn, emphasizes a loyalty to the stakeholder, which in most cases desires a global audience. So I find the contradiction personal.
My dad is a teacher and my mother is a health administrator. They both serve their community using tax dollars. In a great picture they too are serving their country. The investor is the tax payer, whether it be a sales, income, or other tax. Is there inefficiencies in government run programs? Sure, but it is foolish to believe that corporations are any less susceptible to inefficiencies. It is getting irritating that with all the patriotism that exists, we are so forgetful that Wall Street is serving the largest global investment corporations in the world (brokers). So is privatization the answer, why argue? But if you are gonna honor the soldier for serving their country, please don't disrespect my parents for trying to serve theirs.
My dad is a teacher and my mother is a health administrator. They both serve their community using tax dollars. In a great picture they too are serving their country. The investor is the tax payer, whether it be a sales, income, or other tax. Is there inefficiencies in government run programs? Sure, but it is foolish to believe that corporations are any less susceptible to inefficiencies. It is getting irritating that with all the patriotism that exists, we are so forgetful that Wall Street is serving the largest global investment corporations in the world (brokers). So is privatization the answer, why argue? But if you are gonna honor the soldier for serving their country, please don't disrespect my parents for trying to serve theirs.
Free Wheel Women
"Feminists cycling and salsa...ing for social justice"
Last night while enjoying "En-Joy" I got an opportunity to talk with three inspiring women, Ashley, Alley (Alison), and Stephanie. Marble brewery has a patio area where we sat together having a brew and listening to some amazing beats. While sharing a table/picnic bench and some small talk Ashley revealed that they were sojourners. They are sprinkling their smiles across North America. From here the conversation grew into a deep sharing of ideas and experiences.
They were on a pilgrimage. I am fortunate to have crossed paths. I am reminded of women's wildness. Often wildness and adventure are reserved for men, but these three women represented the female passion for independence. We shared a longing to get to know what freedom feels like. So I am sharing them with this community. I hope they remind you all of how important it is to encourage our women to harness their natural feminine desires for adventure.
Free Wheel Women.....Keep your wheels free and turning
Que te vayas bien, mis amigas!
Last night while enjoying "En-Joy" I got an opportunity to talk with three inspiring women, Ashley, Alley (Alison), and Stephanie. Marble brewery has a patio area where we sat together having a brew and listening to some amazing beats. While sharing a table/picnic bench and some small talk Ashley revealed that they were sojourners. They are sprinkling their smiles across North America. From here the conversation grew into a deep sharing of ideas and experiences.
They were on a pilgrimage. I am fortunate to have crossed paths. I am reminded of women's wildness. Often wildness and adventure are reserved for men, but these three women represented the female passion for independence. We shared a longing to get to know what freedom feels like. So I am sharing them with this community. I hope they remind you all of how important it is to encourage our women to harness their natural feminine desires for adventure.
Free Wheel Women.....Keep your wheels free and turning
Que te vayas bien, mis amigas!
Listening
In my world I am taught to find the answers. In my daily routine I am asked to seek out solutions to problems. I think in listening to my mind, body, and spirit, I have herd the noise that people create while solving problems. Now in listening to the problems I see how some create disruption so that they have a problem to solve. In becoming even more quiet I am sensing that solutions are also looking for me. My problems are simply the beacon of light directing a solution home. Am I building problems for the thrill of receiving solutions, or am I seeking problems so that solutions are not roaming wastefully.
Each solution that captures me is a milestone in my map that is guiding me to heaven. Each problem is a riddle that can either be solved, ignored, or accepted. The direction I am going gets more fun with every problem.
Each solution that captures me is a milestone in my map that is guiding me to heaven. Each problem is a riddle that can either be solved, ignored, or accepted. The direction I am going gets more fun with every problem.
What is it to be a Warrior?
This question was recently asked of me.
I'll start with representing it the only way I've ever known it.
it is stepping out of the child's mind, saying goodbye to mother and father, and walking alone into space, time, and the direction of old age.
it is embodying the will to walk out onto a battle field, away from comforts and convenience, to look across and see death, shake its hand, and know this is a battle I will lose.
it is taking inventory of my qualities, strengths, vulnerabilities, skills, knowledge, and allies, while rationing all of them to keep death on its toes, backing up, or chasing.
it is trusting fear enough to keep me safe, but not respecting it so much that it debilitates me.
in the end, what the fuck do I know what it is to be warrior.
I think a warrior never believes they are a warrior, but maybe just doing what needs to be done in the moment, without consideration for what it is to be a warrior.
I admire the warrior enough to pay attention to their post war message, that says to avoid war at all costs.
we are all warriors....at times.
I'll start with representing it the only way I've ever known it.
it is stepping out of the child's mind, saying goodbye to mother and father, and walking alone into space, time, and the direction of old age.
it is embodying the will to walk out onto a battle field, away from comforts and convenience, to look across and see death, shake its hand, and know this is a battle I will lose.
it is taking inventory of my qualities, strengths, vulnerabilities, skills, knowledge, and allies, while rationing all of them to keep death on its toes, backing up, or chasing.
it is trusting fear enough to keep me safe, but not respecting it so much that it debilitates me.
in the end, what the fuck do I know what it is to be warrior.
I think a warrior never believes they are a warrior, but maybe just doing what needs to be done in the moment, without consideration for what it is to be a warrior.
I admire the warrior enough to pay attention to their post war message, that says to avoid war at all costs.
we are all warriors....at times.
Fortunes
Oye vato, you don't find fortunes of gold lying around on the surface. God reveals specs of dust that cue you where to dig. And I guarantee, it will be hard work, and in most cases painful.
Mi amigo, it gets even worse, because most people think that there is fortune in gold, this is the mystery, the secret is not in the gold but the alchemy. Mira, we apply value and cost to objects that others are willing to find worthy. What most are unwilling to accept is that attitude and ethics are free....alchemy mi amigo. Dicen, its not so much the end but the means.
Carnalito, there are few who are willing to seek out there own fortunes, dig their own mines, find their own worthiness, or share. Hombre, don't steal, don't squat, don't hoard, don't counterfeit, and don't believe that you are any more valuable than before you found gold.
Compa, donate, educate, mentor, respect, and believe God revealed that spec of gold not for you but for the sake of the whole world.
Jefe, some parting words, there are people who think there are fortunes in gold, but i hope you take the path that helps you see it is only a metal. It too can be burned and melted. There are materials that are precious, i hope you dig for them.
Mi amigo, it gets even worse, because most people think that there is fortune in gold, this is the mystery, the secret is not in the gold but the alchemy. Mira, we apply value and cost to objects that others are willing to find worthy. What most are unwilling to accept is that attitude and ethics are free....alchemy mi amigo. Dicen, its not so much the end but the means.
Carnalito, there are few who are willing to seek out there own fortunes, dig their own mines, find their own worthiness, or share. Hombre, don't steal, don't squat, don't hoard, don't counterfeit, and don't believe that you are any more valuable than before you found gold.
Compa, donate, educate, mentor, respect, and believe God revealed that spec of gold not for you but for the sake of the whole world.
Jefe, some parting words, there are people who think there are fortunes in gold, but i hope you take the path that helps you see it is only a metal. It too can be burned and melted. There are materials that are precious, i hope you dig for them.
Educating the human in me
I am finding that the most existential part of becoming educated is fully coming to terms with the reality that there is so much to be learned and only a lifetime to try and learn it in. I think what this does is create personalities, classes, philosophies, and oddly even injustice or insecurity.
The more I see how people make decisions, I can see how one might believe that natural selection is real. How can it not be as we see urban cultures starving rural environments. There are times in life when the fittest will survive, and there are times in life when people can live completely with altruistic intent. I can see how a Mother Theresa adds a remedy to the Darwinian attitude by suggesting that there are people who serve the inferior. There is no natural law or science that eliminates the possibility of either theory, leaving me to believe we can't live in one or even a dual mindset absolutely. There is a dependence on circumstance, evidence, curiosity, and emotion that leaves an infinite trail in an unknown number of directions. Victor Frankl expresses this non dual way of believing by describing how we are far more than our genetics, we are far more than our actions, we are completely human in that individually we have an ability to chose our attitude, and this is the direction one continues on when traversing life's infinite existence.
I have never felt more aware in my life. I expect to reach a phase when even this awareness will progress to a new stage of confusion. I think about how I once woke every morning to software problems to be solved, algorithms to discover, and statuses to be achieved, now I am on the outskirts of this mainstream human whirlwind of achievement. Now I am working towards appreciating my garbage man, my immigrant labor (legal and illegal), our recovering addicts, my teacher, my patterns, emptiness, where my food is grown, where I shop, my time with people, and the purpose of money.
The more I see how people make decisions, I can see how one might believe that natural selection is real. How can it not be as we see urban cultures starving rural environments. There are times in life when the fittest will survive, and there are times in life when people can live completely with altruistic intent. I can see how a Mother Theresa adds a remedy to the Darwinian attitude by suggesting that there are people who serve the inferior. There is no natural law or science that eliminates the possibility of either theory, leaving me to believe we can't live in one or even a dual mindset absolutely. There is a dependence on circumstance, evidence, curiosity, and emotion that leaves an infinite trail in an unknown number of directions. Victor Frankl expresses this non dual way of believing by describing how we are far more than our genetics, we are far more than our actions, we are completely human in that individually we have an ability to chose our attitude, and this is the direction one continues on when traversing life's infinite existence.
I have never felt more aware in my life. I expect to reach a phase when even this awareness will progress to a new stage of confusion. I think about how I once woke every morning to software problems to be solved, algorithms to discover, and statuses to be achieved, now I am on the outskirts of this mainstream human whirlwind of achievement. Now I am working towards appreciating my garbage man, my immigrant labor (legal and illegal), our recovering addicts, my teacher, my patterns, emptiness, where my food is grown, where I shop, my time with people, and the purpose of money.
Man's Struggle...haaa haaa
but through a confident women's perspective. Love is like a river that can flow both ways, up and down stream...can't explain this one yet.
Cloth
my life is an elaborate weaving of colorful threads, that at times flow elegantly. other times the threads knot and tangle. regardless I have created a fabric that in some angles looks pleasing. I have created a fabric that is compromising. my fabric is abrasive in some areas and silky when held just right. because my fabric is sometimes drug through areas that smell pungently it can repulse.
there are times when my fabric has been lofted by winds and stretched across landscapes, making shreds,creases and tear. bulging rain clouds have cleansed my fabric, with their tears, while bleeding pigments from one thread to another.
the fabric I am weaving is mindful of the weaving process. I am becoming aware of how to influence the nature of my patterns, colors, and rhythms. I want my fabric to be versatile. I want it to warm. I want it to shelter. I want it to cleanse. I want it to decorate. I want it to weather.
I expect it to stain. I think it will fade. I dread it being ripped. I know it will erode back into the soils of earth anxiously preparing to be woven again.
a blanket, shawl, rope, flag, or rug, regardless I have become aware that I can be woven and therefor I am a weaver.,,
Ron Valerio Estrada
there are times when my fabric has been lofted by winds and stretched across landscapes, making shreds,creases and tear. bulging rain clouds have cleansed my fabric, with their tears, while bleeding pigments from one thread to another.
the fabric I am weaving is mindful of the weaving process. I am becoming aware of how to influence the nature of my patterns, colors, and rhythms. I want my fabric to be versatile. I want it to warm. I want it to shelter. I want it to cleanse. I want it to decorate. I want it to weather.
I expect it to stain. I think it will fade. I dread it being ripped. I know it will erode back into the soils of earth anxiously preparing to be woven again.
a blanket, shawl, rope, flag, or rug, regardless I have become aware that I can be woven and therefor I am a weaver.,,
Ron Valerio Estrada
Sientate, Callate, Escuchate chico!
o te voy a enviar a la oficina del director!
There might be a day when American children will be forced to listen to our history. There might be a day when anglo children will be forced to listen to how great our fore fathers were. But for now, I must carry the burden of two histories, one buried and renamed and one force fed. I must dance with the responsibility of upholding two cultures, one addicted to pain and the other crippled by choices. I must struggle with discerning my acceptance or rejection in both.
There might be a day when American children will be forced to listen to our history. There might be a day when anglo children will be forced to listen to how great our fore fathers were. But for now, I must carry the burden of two histories, one buried and renamed and one force fed. I must dance with the responsibility of upholding two cultures, one addicted to pain and the other crippled by choices. I must struggle with discerning my acceptance or rejection in both.
See past your bias and into the child
If we take a second look at our lower classes and see past the dysfunction, I think we could recognize a child's eyes. If we looked beyond the physical and into the culture I think we can recognize an underdeveloped child. If we looked beyond the violence and filth, I think we can recognize an abused child. If we looked at our lower classes with a compassion towards the collective I think we could recognize and underdeveloped culture. My longing is to not assign blame, not to trickle down opportunity, not create boot straps, but to be critical in action towards those who blame, delegate, deny, and take advantage. When I look into the eyes of the aspiring tycoon's culture I can see an adolescence's eyes.
In a common family the Adults model for their children, and develop, invest, and care for their children's future. In my family even siblings support and provide for younger siblings. In this country at times it doesn't feel like a family.
Inspired by:
In a common family the Adults model for their children, and develop, invest, and care for their children's future. In my family even siblings support and provide for younger siblings. In this country at times it doesn't feel like a family.
Inspired by:
Consideration
Keeping in the spirit of paradox, with my bigotry on ideas and social bigotry on beliefs, I am comforted with the simultaneous existence of consideration. It has been hard for me to teach myself to find the benevolent route. I am starting to recognize the opportunities but too late to capitalize. In fact it is discouraging because so many people who have come into my life try to share their skills in kindness and in the time shared with them I get it. Then life and my environment antagonize my old hostile attitudes. So the characteristic of bigotry and consideration are battling in me. Depending on my environment, wellness, and connections I am susceptible to both.
In my last post I used the term "most", and this caused me to consider its validity. Because I really can't rationalize its use based on my experiences with people, I think it has been supportive or a crutch to the transitions in my maturity. Generalizing some how gives me a sense of reason and satisfaction. There is actually no objective account for bigotry or benevolence. It is like dew in the morning, an aroma but no source, or like a smudge on a lens that is hard to get to. Its there amongst the rest of our qualities.....subjectively revealing itself teasing me to try and objectify it.
In my last post I used the term "most", and this caused me to consider its validity. Because I really can't rationalize its use based on my experiences with people, I think it has been supportive or a crutch to the transitions in my maturity. Generalizing some how gives me a sense of reason and satisfaction. There is actually no objective account for bigotry or benevolence. It is like dew in the morning, an aroma but no source, or like a smudge on a lens that is hard to get to. Its there amongst the rest of our qualities.....subjectively revealing itself teasing me to try and objectify it.
Che & Pac
There is a bigotry I see in the distribution of ideas. There are ideas that are discouraged, smudged, feared, or ignored. There is a poetic justice that is delivered with the lyrics that come from 2-Pac. There is a invigorating patriotism that I find in Che Guevara's lifestyle. The bigotry is found when trying to make their message mainstream and respected.
I recognize the bigotry as I try and build a bridge between the messages of these men, and the message found in scripture, Poe, Thoreau, Oliver, Niche, Jefferson, Chomsky, Rand, Douglas, Frankle, Dr. King, Horney, Gandhi, Twain, or Cash. The bigotry is not so much racial as it is for dominance. There are too many people who refuse to look in the shadows, preferring to remain in the limelight. There are too many people who prefer short cuts to a thorough journey. There is a bigotry towards sacrifice and a bias for reward. There is a bigotry towards decomposition, whether it is physiological, emotional, or theoretical.
In this post decomposition can be described as breaking down. Most people are judgmental of failure, creating a stigma around failure. It becomes bigotry when one group of people decide what is failure. In America, the dominant culture, this being white European, determines the definition of failure. This has created a subculture of failures, those who don't fit in, or what can be described as perceived failures. The bigotry is a collective idea that there is a right and wrong way of living, feeling, or being. The bigotry is detrimental to the necessity of paradox, causing imbalance.
I see the bigotry manifesting itself in education. I was taught what the dominant culture chose and still chooses to teach. I was taught that I was lessor by my community of Chicano elders by their insecure choices made while facing an immigrant white culture. I continue the bigotry by believing I am lessor and unfortunate, separating myself from the mainstream, and judging lifestyles. The bigotry comes into play when I am entertained, by being overwhelmed with what the dominant culture has chosen to be worthy of publication, and my desire to reject it by seeking out the underground. The bigotry comes into play when I am influenced, by being punished, restricted, rewarded, or deceived, with aspirations molded by the dominant culture. The bigotry of ideas is tainting the learning process and gaining momentum in the educational systems I belong to. The bigotry is flowing to me and from me.
So Che Guevarra and 2-Pac have lessons to teach. I am seeking mature learning systems that can critically look at their message and learn as much as they can about the people they represent. This desire to understand can lead to respect. Respect might lead people to personal dignity. This personal dignity can lead people to reconciling the histories of being left behind, oppressed, smudged, and exploited. The reconciliation might lead to prosperity for all, not just American's. We might be a world under God, we might one day ask God to bless our enemies, and we might one day realized that faith is written on our hearts not in the pages of scripture. This week is the birth anniversary of two inspirational men in my life, their lessons will be taught and promoted......by me.
Google Song
Today's Google home page lets you record a song by strumming the strings o the google banner.
My first song for today
My second song for the day
My third song of the day (this is addicting)
My first song for today
My second song for the day
My third song of the day (this is addicting)
Jumping To Conclusion
Anthony Weiner has caused a major glitch in the moral fabric that America pretends to display. We are a sexually fueled generation. We are marketed to with what past generations considered pornography. The body has become a stock exchange for instant gratification. It seems as if our imagery of who we should be is manipulated by none other then our pleasure center. I cannot condemn Anthony Weiner because the erotic connection is a powerful force. What I am trying to do is hear his actions.
Embarrassingly, infidelity is something I am guilty of. Watching the spectacle that Anthony Weiner is undergoing leaves me happy to be a nobody. I am also surprised at how so many in the media have not taken a mature perspective and listened to the real story being told. What I see from Anthony Weiner might be a projection from my past being resurrected with the reminder from his circumstances, regardless there is an emotional void this man is experiencing.
He is revealing a major void in the masculine culture. Maybe for this post it is my void. The void is male validation. The void is created by not dealing with our intense desires for pleasure, being desired, and being recognized. These desires are rarely maturely discussed among my masculine clicks. I find it interesting how shameful our desire for pleasure is. It is thought to be feminine to have the feelings of needing to be desired. It is demeaning to need to be recognized.
Having recently embraced texting I see how effective texting is at establishing intimate connections. I wouldn't be surprised if a majority of men are "sexting". Having had to experience being a single man again, I have felt like an oddball for not receiving nude photos. But when I look into my daughter's eyes I am thankful that I have restrained from acting on my ever functioning desires. There are times when in a group of men sharing stories of sexting I feel invalidated. I have wanted to be part of this culture, just havn't had the will to make it happen...and not entirely for all the good reasons either. I know that enough consciousness,luck, and misfortune have all stifled my interest in sexting.
It is amazing how influential perversion and nudity fills this void in the male culture. It is confusing how validated I have felt by being considered attractive and how pleasing it is to be sexual.
Anthony Weiner is a symptom to greater Masculine concern. Men open your eyes to what it truly means to be exposed.....and vulnerable.
Embarrassingly, infidelity is something I am guilty of. Watching the spectacle that Anthony Weiner is undergoing leaves me happy to be a nobody. I am also surprised at how so many in the media have not taken a mature perspective and listened to the real story being told. What I see from Anthony Weiner might be a projection from my past being resurrected with the reminder from his circumstances, regardless there is an emotional void this man is experiencing.
He is revealing a major void in the masculine culture. Maybe for this post it is my void. The void is male validation. The void is created by not dealing with our intense desires for pleasure, being desired, and being recognized. These desires are rarely maturely discussed among my masculine clicks. I find it interesting how shameful our desire for pleasure is. It is thought to be feminine to have the feelings of needing to be desired. It is demeaning to need to be recognized.
Having recently embraced texting I see how effective texting is at establishing intimate connections. I wouldn't be surprised if a majority of men are "sexting". Having had to experience being a single man again, I have felt like an oddball for not receiving nude photos. But when I look into my daughter's eyes I am thankful that I have restrained from acting on my ever functioning desires. There are times when in a group of men sharing stories of sexting I feel invalidated. I have wanted to be part of this culture, just havn't had the will to make it happen...and not entirely for all the good reasons either. I know that enough consciousness,luck, and misfortune have all stifled my interest in sexting.
It is amazing how influential perversion and nudity fills this void in the male culture. It is confusing how validated I have felt by being considered attractive and how pleasing it is to be sexual.
Anthony Weiner is a symptom to greater Masculine concern. Men open your eyes to what it truly means to be exposed.....and vulnerable.
Coward!
For most of my life I have just needed someone to blame. I think a quality of being a man is shouldering more blame than unloading it. Better said, it is taking responsibility for my contribution to the circumstances, and looking for it when it is not obvious.
I am free to be accountable to others, knowing I will fall short of most expectations, but my expectations are selfish and not as diplomatic. That is where blame comes in to play. Others can create circumstances that are unfair. Conveniently it is easier for me to recognize how unfair someone else is before I recognize how unfair I am. My responses thus far have mostly been passively violent. When things don't work to my advantage, I fall back on disappointment, forgetting to find the opportunity in the fallout. I tend to get bogged down in pity, when dignity is ripe for picking. My reactions are usually inspired from fear, and I can see how useful blame becomes. It keeps me from feeling pain or failure. Blame is pain reflected, where sweat and tears symbolize pain transcended.
There are lessons in the communities I live in. I think my family has shown me that responsibility is my gift to culture. I think society teaches me that I can buy my way out of responsibility, but I cannot buy true responsibility. The "both and" is that there is a consequence to every benefit. Finding out how and what responsibility should look like, is living. We are a creative species....when some of us take a break from blaming.
I am free to be accountable to others, knowing I will fall short of most expectations, but my expectations are selfish and not as diplomatic. That is where blame comes in to play. Others can create circumstances that are unfair. Conveniently it is easier for me to recognize how unfair someone else is before I recognize how unfair I am. My responses thus far have mostly been passively violent. When things don't work to my advantage, I fall back on disappointment, forgetting to find the opportunity in the fallout. I tend to get bogged down in pity, when dignity is ripe for picking. My reactions are usually inspired from fear, and I can see how useful blame becomes. It keeps me from feeling pain or failure. Blame is pain reflected, where sweat and tears symbolize pain transcended.
There are lessons in the communities I live in. I think my family has shown me that responsibility is my gift to culture. I think society teaches me that I can buy my way out of responsibility, but I cannot buy true responsibility. The "both and" is that there is a consequence to every benefit. Finding out how and what responsibility should look like, is living. We are a creative species....when some of us take a break from blaming.
Enhancing Traditions
This inspires me to be more critical of how I approach what aspects of my cultures to enhance, sustain, or accept. I am more like my neighbor then i am like, the person I think I am. To the outsider it is easier to draw a distinction, and to the insider it is easier to say I belong. In reality, nature is laughing knowing we are both.
P.S. Happy Anniversary Grandma and Grandpa Estrada
More History!
I am part of an American culture that is leaving behind a generation that once resisted civil rights. Their generation left behind a generation that resisted human rights for non white. This is what I see as enduring freedom. Now, I am part of a generation where most citizens believe that every citizen has an equal opportunity. Equal opportunity for what? That is the question.
When you look at the modernization of the colonized nations, we see the effects of technological advancement. We can see how gradually those technologies trickle down to the lowest of socioeconomic classes. I see how the European pioneers have created economies like no other, spanning the globe and even into orbit. I also see how filtered indigenous participation in Americas progress has been. Often participation is suppressed, stifled, limited, and in my view controlled. Even in saying this I feel a subconscious voice telling me,"don't play the victim role, the poor little Mexican, the poor little brown guy". I have been condition to overlook the disadvantage and the white advantage. I have been conditioned by subtle and moderated progress. A mentality that asks me to feel overly grateful for scraps from the privilege banquet table. But then I realize how God given talent and privilege only takes a person as far as the elite will allow.
I see how important it is to look a certain way, how important it is to know certain people, and how important it is to be in the right place. I think about how many generations of white Americans have a legacy of formal education in a system designed for them, indoctrination in formal business systems convenient for them, established networks of other culturally competent people using codes convenient for them, and a pedigree of enhancing privileged life as is convenient for them. What an advantage they have.
I think about how many white Americans deny their immigrant status and confuse me into generalizing them all as privileged. This makes it easy for me to forget that the Italian, Irish, German, and Jewish cultures, only to name a few, have fought the same class struggle that I feel my culture is fighting right now.
Its as if the fight for acceptance is won only to make the segregationist opponent stronger.
Well I think this featured documentary by Kareem Abdul Jabbar is a great example of how the privileged white Americans have controlled and continue to control how inclusive the lower class/minority people can be. Be mindful of the mining, media, agro, and oil industries as they benefit most from keeping a lower often indigenous class.
On the Shoulders of Giants
( a documentary by Kareem Abdul Jabbar)
Be aware that most products are global and the luxury you see in your communities is often at a great expense to another community very far from yours (Guatemala, Cambodia, Philippines, Mexico, etc..).
When you look at the modernization of the colonized nations, we see the effects of technological advancement. We can see how gradually those technologies trickle down to the lowest of socioeconomic classes. I see how the European pioneers have created economies like no other, spanning the globe and even into orbit. I also see how filtered indigenous participation in Americas progress has been. Often participation is suppressed, stifled, limited, and in my view controlled. Even in saying this I feel a subconscious voice telling me,"don't play the victim role, the poor little Mexican, the poor little brown guy". I have been condition to overlook the disadvantage and the white advantage. I have been conditioned by subtle and moderated progress. A mentality that asks me to feel overly grateful for scraps from the privilege banquet table. But then I realize how God given talent and privilege only takes a person as far as the elite will allow.
I see how important it is to look a certain way, how important it is to know certain people, and how important it is to be in the right place. I think about how many generations of white Americans have a legacy of formal education in a system designed for them, indoctrination in formal business systems convenient for them, established networks of other culturally competent people using codes convenient for them, and a pedigree of enhancing privileged life as is convenient for them. What an advantage they have.
I think about how many white Americans deny their immigrant status and confuse me into generalizing them all as privileged. This makes it easy for me to forget that the Italian, Irish, German, and Jewish cultures, only to name a few, have fought the same class struggle that I feel my culture is fighting right now.
Its as if the fight for acceptance is won only to make the segregationist opponent stronger.Well I think this featured documentary by Kareem Abdul Jabbar is a great example of how the privileged white Americans have controlled and continue to control how inclusive the lower class/minority people can be. Be mindful of the mining, media, agro, and oil industries as they benefit most from keeping a lower often indigenous class.
On the Shoulders of Giants
( a documentary by Kareem Abdul Jabbar)
Be aware that most products are global and the luxury you see in your communities is often at a great expense to another community very far from yours (Guatemala, Cambodia, Philippines, Mexico, etc..).
Vicente "El Picosito" Garcia Jr.
There is a part of the Chicano culture that is ruthless. Even the slightest social struggle creates opportunity for deviance. My family was a victim to the darker side of the Chicano culture. There is a pride in young Chicano men that is detrimental. There is an ignorance that festers in the poverty. That ignorance is harnessed and feeds a violent restlessness. As outsiders might see it, deviance is a bad choice that many of our youngsters make, but as the insiders know it, it is an inspired direction that is influenced by those who are consistently working in our lives. With Chicano pride comes Chicano disgrace. My primo was ruthlessly murdered by the noxious strata found in Albuquerque's barrios.
My cousin, Vicente "El Picosito" Garcia Jr., whom I only met once was shot and killed. Picosito embraced boxing and the people in his life gave him a fighting chance at prosperity. It was in the shadows of a prideful Chicano culture where Picosito fought his last fight, and was ruthlessly murdered. I feel guilty claiming him, because it wasn't until 4-5 years before his death that our family was able to begin the reconciliation process. Reconciliation for circumstances that distance him form us. He was an aspiring boxer and future contender. Raised in California and New Mexico, he brandished the qualities that athletes hope for. I never got to know him as a young man. I played with him once for a short time in front of our grandparent's house. He was around 8. I am fortunate to have that memory.
My cousin, Vicente "El Picosito" Garcia Jr., whom I only met once was shot and killed. Picosito embraced boxing and the people in his life gave him a fighting chance at prosperity. It was in the shadows of a prideful Chicano culture where Picosito fought his last fight, and was ruthlessly murdered. I feel guilty claiming him, because it wasn't until 4-5 years before his death that our family was able to begin the reconciliation process. Reconciliation for circumstances that distance him form us. He was an aspiring boxer and future contender. Raised in California and New Mexico, he brandished the qualities that athletes hope for. I never got to know him as a young man. I played with him once for a short time in front of our grandparent's house. He was around 8. I am fortunate to have that memory.
Happy Birthday Primo
Outsider
what is it to be an outsider? it's perspective and interpretation. I have a romance with my connection to New Mexico. the romance isn't necessarily good or bad. it causes me to feel included and a part of something everlasting. there is convenience in this. I am familiar with my surroundings, this makes surviving easier. New Mexico is a framework that is rooted in attitudes and systems designed by people like me. lifestyles were created with me in mind, and I continue the tradition of trying to live with understanding and concern for future generations, my future generations more than yours. all this convenience leads me to think like an insider. the wonderful thing about memorial is that it allows me to ponder the past. in this reflection I encounter the outsider, me.
I am the continuation of outsiders. I am the consequence of evolution. I am the consequence of a restless generation. I have convinced myself that I am an insider while denying all the remaining evidence of how I am also an outsider. it is in critical thought that i can accept that both are persona that motivate my thoughts and more significantly my actions. in the end, I must reconcile that regardless of duration, pedigree, and lineage, the insider is one who operates from respect for others and is mindful of their inpact on the surroundings. the outsider is in it for the benefit and experience.
I am the continuation of outsiders. I am the consequence of evolution. I am the consequence of a restless generation. I have convinced myself that I am an insider while denying all the remaining evidence of how I am also an outsider. it is in critical thought that i can accept that both are persona that motivate my thoughts and more significantly my actions. in the end, I must reconcile that regardless of duration, pedigree, and lineage, the insider is one who operates from respect for others and is mindful of their inpact on the surroundings. the outsider is in it for the benefit and experience.
Your tradition is confusing my tradition
I think generations of New Mexicans are inundated with trends and superficiality leading to the acceptance of inferiority and imposition of other's values and expectations. I recognize how our cultural gems are being marketed and exploited by many outsiders. I think the outsider is a threat to the integrity of our traditions, whether it is a meal, art, or ritual. I think we are learning to apply economic value to our cultural icons. The American way is to assign value in dollars, and I am struggling to accept this mindset. The economification of this culture is an aspect of modernism that I see as corrosive to the integrity of a collective identity. This is music to the individualists ears, and I like to think that the individual has lived generations disconnected and feels threatened by others connection and unity. I see it as the reason why Americans try so hard to market their American Pride. In New Mexico our pride is engrained in our behaviors, our friendships, and our understanding of God. In metropolitan life it is package, manufactured, themed, and sculpted. Many Americans shop for culture, desiring a connectedness with a past and hopes for legacy; even the individualist. It might be hard to fathom but I am both New Mexican and American; owning both the traditionalist and capitalist mentalities. Not sure why the following program inspired this note but it sucks knowing the military complex has New Mexico and its people by the balls.
No you are not right, but yes you are not wrong
In today's economic struggle we see the unfortunate consequence of materialism and a desire for sustained growth. I see it in my longing for convenience. I see it as the theory of exponential growth. Can life be entirely about constant convenience? Our business schools preach efficiency leading to profit, our politicians preach simplicity and function with complexity, and most American lifestyles are motivated by prosperity. Efficiency, simplicity, and prosperity are all qualities of convenience. We are destined to prove that we can continually improve.
I call this reaching for perfection.......Godliness. I might not be fair in saying this. It is probably more a projection of my own personal desires. I think the intellectual wants to prove God false, the scientist wants to know Gods secrets, the athlete wants to prove himself immortal, the romantic wants to prove herself all desirable, the jefe wants infinite worth, and we "all" want bliss.
Convenience is how I exploit God’s gifts of intelligence, emotion, and senses. I am now recognizing the importance of inefficiency in the paradoxical system I call nature. In destruction there is prosperity. Between two polarities there lies reality and construction and destruction....feast and famine....invention and robbery...cultivation and pruning.
Fear is in the eye of the feared!
I find that when I create animosity it thrives in me. I think maturity allows me to process animosity in my thoughts, actions, and memories. There are rappers, news organizations, and cultures that should be feared but animosity is not the remedy. I think what has helped me mature is recognizing the child in adults and understanding how being in an adult body is a lot simpler than being in an adult mind. I have had great teachers of maturity.
Common, you make a lot of sense for me, and your message is vital to the empowerment of the marginalized, rejected, and disqualified.
Keep on, keeping on.
Common, you make a lot of sense for me, and your message is vital to the empowerment of the marginalized, rejected, and disqualified.
Keep on, keeping on.
Do this for me please-resend
I am not much for e-mail chains, but I understand when a message needs to be made. I am not a very patriotic person. I tend to find the reasons for war ambiguous. I find the reasons for killing even more ambiguous, and I am not designed to kill. I am designed to be influenced. I see that influence can lead to passion, and passion can open doors I may have never thought to open, like reasons to kill. I function best on rational and often realize that rational is often a luxury. The soldier is a reflection of their country, heritage, and history. The soldier is most importantly a person. In my search for reasoning, I tend to minimize that my country's aggression and strength are deserving of respect and dignity. I do my best to value the sacrifice a soldier makes, by living a lifestyle that isn't too antagonistic to natures balance. I will likely never experience conventional warfare, but life is a war. For now, I can only sympathize. This was sent from a "special force" in my life, and I am following orders....somewhat!
Your cell phone is in your pocket.
You're looking at all the pretty girls.
He patrols the streets, searching
for insurgents and terrorists.
He's told he will be held over an
extra 2 months.
You call your girlfriend and set a
date for tonight.
He waits for the mail to see if there
is a letter from home.
You hug and kiss your girlfriend,
like you do everyday.
He holds his letter close and smells
his love's perfume.
You roll your eyes as a baby cries.
He gets a letter with pictures of his
new child, and wonders if they'll ever meet.
You criticize your government, and
say that war never solves anything.
He sees the innocent tortured and
killed by their own people and
remembers why he is fighting.
You hear the jokes about the war, and make fun of men like him.
He hears the gunfire, bombs and
screams of the wounded.
You see only what the media wants
you to see.
He sees the broken bodies lying
around him.
You are asked to do something by
your parents. You don't.
He does exactly what he is told even
if it puts his life in danger.
You stay at home and watch TV.
He takes whatever time he is given
to call, write home, sleep, and eat.
You crawl into your soft bed, with
down pillows, and get comfortable.
He tries to sleep but gets woken by mortars and helicopters all night long.
I will try and understand you American Soldier.
The Show Goes On
"One in the air for the people that ain’t here
Two in the air for the father that’s there
Three in the air for the kids in the ghetto
Four for the kids who don’t wanna be there
None for the niggas trying to hold them back
Five in the air for the teacher not scared to tell those kids thats living in the ghetto that the niggas holdin back that the World is theirs!
Yeah yeah, the World is yours, I was once that little boy"
Every generation has a voice that sings of truth, using a language that is only understandable by the proverbial code talker. I investigate phenomena and find that Darwin is more right than wrong. His show goes on.
I see that advocacy has become advertisement. The grassroots are paved. I find that Jesus is more quoted than reflected. I find that faith is in the bottom line and invention is the real God of too many people. His show goes on.
This song moves my soul in a floetic way. It strangely gives me courage to be a moron, outcast, and misunderstood. It gives me courage to live to the beat in my heart, that is out of tune in this materialistic orchestra. At times I see how I may be dancing on stage that was never meant to be mine. I am the show that goes on.
"Yeah, ain’t no body leavin, no body goin’ home
even if they turn the lights out the show is goin’ on!"
Bound
I am only bound by
what I am unwilling to know
and
what others are resistant to teach.
I can only be stopped by my fear of pain
and
the threat of death
I am only as free as
my willingness to let go,
and
only limited by the
control I allow others to have over me
There is always a way when
"good" is the direction
There is always truth
when questioning "love"
I can "bound" but
only after refusing to be
"bound".
what I am unwilling to know
and
what others are resistant to teach.
I can only be stopped by my fear of pain
and
the threat of death
I am only as free as
my willingness to let go,
and
only limited by the
control I allow others to have over me
There is always a way when
"good" is the direction
There is always truth
when questioning "love"
I can "bound" but
only after refusing to be
"bound".
Conversion
If my God was about converting I wonder why people are evangelizing Christianity, I think He would have converted all to Judaism, as He practiced Judaism. This Easter I am reminded that God came and was an example to the Samaritan, Roman, Gentile, and Jew, without needing to convert cultural tradition and life. This leads me to believe faith wasn't discriminant or oppressive. He led by example not at the expense of tradition, but by tradition. I am a spiritual critic guided by own mistakes, sins, hypocrisies, and limitations. World! Don't argue with me, show me how I should do it healthier. God has given me a mouth to eat, and I foolishly use it as a weapon for my mind, at the expense of my soul. And lastly I have in the past appeared to be Holy, but in this phase of life I desire and aspire to be Holy.......Happy Easter! With love, Enjoy the rest of Spring.
Loosing connections to pain
Has tradition been replace by dogma, a hierarchy of needs, or something between? I see how many Americans, including myself, have had to leave their birth cities, their connection to their past, or their connection to their pain. I assume the top reasons for the migration is to find work, better pay, explore, or follow family. Many Americans are adopting a tradition of moving away. I too, felt this was the thing to do. I see now that it disconnects me from learning the history, struggles, and lessons learned from my great uncles, grandparents, and community elders. I see how it deteriorates a family's bond. I see how it corrodes the connection from the pains of the past. It is that source of familial pain, that I see as necessary for me to go beyond the dogma of tradition.
I can see how I learned to be mistrusting. I know now where my anger came from. I can see that my families traditions are being altered, by me and life. I see clearer that I have become independent with hypocritical dependencies. I must risk trusting that things will be alright, knowing I say this often. I feel alright one day and tossed in despair the next. I must trust that I can survive and thrive in any phase, democracy, or climate.....foolishly .... with God's grace.
I think I am aware that I need comfort to be happy. I think as I harden as a man I will be less dependent on laws, conveniences, and luxuries for my content. I might even consider suffering a joyful understanding of the paradox that gives way to death. It is getting too easy to point out hypocrisy in our American politics. It is getting too discouraging when my peers can't recognize it. Or maybe I am just on a fools journey and the joke is on me.
Today as a radical Catholic, a radical believer in Jesus Christ, and a revolutionary wannabe, I see my ego at work and my senses remind me I am only a man, no more, no less.
I can see how I learned to be mistrusting. I know now where my anger came from. I can see that my families traditions are being altered, by me and life. I see clearer that I have become independent with hypocritical dependencies. I must risk trusting that things will be alright, knowing I say this often. I feel alright one day and tossed in despair the next. I must trust that I can survive and thrive in any phase, democracy, or climate.....foolishly .... with God's grace.
I think I am aware that I need comfort to be happy. I think as I harden as a man I will be less dependent on laws, conveniences, and luxuries for my content. I might even consider suffering a joyful understanding of the paradox that gives way to death. It is getting too easy to point out hypocrisy in our American politics. It is getting too discouraging when my peers can't recognize it. Or maybe I am just on a fools journey and the joke is on me.
Today as a radical Catholic, a radical believer in Jesus Christ, and a revolutionary wannabe, I see my ego at work and my senses remind me I am only a man, no more, no less.
Lessons Relearned....maybe!
When a country creates laws, it creates precedent, which often create patterns resulting in a culture of condemnation. This judging culture is susceptible to dogma that lurks in the shadows. As seen in the union disputes around the country. I am a man who is wading through a tsunami of dogma, in my faith and economic communities. We will need to relearn our laws and regulations because I have become lazy in understanding the struggle that created those unions. The convenience factor created by the exhausting efforts of people in the past has allowed me to ignore their struggle. I no longer can feel the pain of struggles past and therefore allow the tearing down of safeguards. This will be interesting because it isn't bad....yet. I think it means that those folks must once again learn the lessons that inspired regulations and laws. It will be a struggle for some, but I also see how it is tearing away at dogma.
I think with bias that pain is the source of conflict between the liberal and conservative. To the liberals detriment it has created fear. To the conservative it has done the same. I even think we fear the same crap. Except for liberals its focused around liberties and with conservatives its focused around prosperity. I can see how the teacher's unions are afraid that they won't be respected, treated with care, or valued. I have to say I think conservatives are afraid of the power educators can have. Both equally mistrust the other.
I recognize this fear in love. Having experiencing a painful divorce, I am afraid to revisit much less relearn the lessons of love. So I can see how the conservative wants to relearn the lessons of bargaining. I can see how teachers are afraid to trust that they will be valued. We don't have a consistent track record on either side. The education system knows it isn't great, and the we as a society expect the best without investing in making it happen. I am excited that change is happening. It inspires me to also risk breaking apart my laws and regulations created from being wounded and relearning the lessons that keep me tucked inside my unions.
I think with bias that pain is the source of conflict between the liberal and conservative. To the liberals detriment it has created fear. To the conservative it has done the same. I even think we fear the same crap. Except for liberals its focused around liberties and with conservatives its focused around prosperity. I can see how the teacher's unions are afraid that they won't be respected, treated with care, or valued. I have to say I think conservatives are afraid of the power educators can have. Both equally mistrust the other.
I recognize this fear in love. Having experiencing a painful divorce, I am afraid to revisit much less relearn the lessons of love. So I can see how the conservative wants to relearn the lessons of bargaining. I can see how teachers are afraid to trust that they will be valued. We don't have a consistent track record on either side. The education system knows it isn't great, and the we as a society expect the best without investing in making it happen. I am excited that change is happening. It inspires me to also risk breaking apart my laws and regulations created from being wounded and relearning the lessons that keep me tucked inside my unions.
Loving the game!
I think I have learned what the most challenging aspect of a man's life is.
It is loving a partner fully, completely, and purely. I have trained and prepared for many challenging things in my life. I have had coaches teach me skills and techniques in preparation for games or events. I have had the discipline and self motivation to be committed to preparing for all the anticipated aspects of competition, and trained for how to deal with the unexpected. In baseball I crafted my defense, I conditioned regularly, and I made a point to improve always. In individual sport events, I transferred this mindset into my workouts, research, and dedication. I learned to become my own coach and learned the quality of self discipline. Unfortunately, all these qualities worked well for me in competition, but seem detrimental to my ability to love. My professional career has embraced and leveraged my athlete's mind or warrior spirit. I am learning or becoming aware of how useless these skills are, when it comes to love.
Love is not a competitive event. So most of what I learned in my young adult life has not helped me love. In fact it has taught me how to love with my mind versus my heart, which for me is not loving at all. I also can't remember having a love coach. I don't recall ever having love workouts. I rarely made time for learning how to love. My coaches never made room for love in their warriors curriculum. I was filled with anger, focused rage, and a thirst for strength. I was told that losing sucks, and its all about winning. Not much love in this message. If it takes a man to lose his ability to love to gain a championship then I welcome the losers bracket. I was not taught how to hold ferocity with care.
So as I open my heart to the concept of love, I see how my competitive mind distracts my God given thoughts. The heart doesn't compete. My heart is waiting for my mind to rest long enough to be coached in the language, rules, and spirit of the game called love. It is a game where if played for the right reasons everyone wins. It is a game where the best are the example and the worst are honored for participating.
The most challenging thing I have done in my life is to live for another. I have questioned and still question my ability to commit to one lover. Loving is so much fun...this is my exploitation of love. I am loving for its fruit and I have become unwilling to learn the complete love lessons that are learned in sacrifice, self control, and discipline. I am a love tycoon, seeking to tap into loves aquifers, drill love's lands, and mine love's bedrocks. I have not let go of my addiction to the profits that come from using love, like infatuation, pleasure, or thrills. I am an adolescent lover. This game called love has put on its full court press, it has brought in the hard throwing lefty, and I am in the middle rounds with love's best pound for pound lover. I am excited, because love respects my stupidity, arrogance, and foolishness, it won't use it against me, but for me.
Through Him, with Her, and In Them.......
Amen!
It is loving a partner fully, completely, and purely. I have trained and prepared for many challenging things in my life. I have had coaches teach me skills and techniques in preparation for games or events. I have had the discipline and self motivation to be committed to preparing for all the anticipated aspects of competition, and trained for how to deal with the unexpected. In baseball I crafted my defense, I conditioned regularly, and I made a point to improve always. In individual sport events, I transferred this mindset into my workouts, research, and dedication. I learned to become my own coach and learned the quality of self discipline. Unfortunately, all these qualities worked well for me in competition, but seem detrimental to my ability to love. My professional career has embraced and leveraged my athlete's mind or warrior spirit. I am learning or becoming aware of how useless these skills are, when it comes to love.
Love is not a competitive event. So most of what I learned in my young adult life has not helped me love. In fact it has taught me how to love with my mind versus my heart, which for me is not loving at all. I also can't remember having a love coach. I don't recall ever having love workouts. I rarely made time for learning how to love. My coaches never made room for love in their warriors curriculum. I was filled with anger, focused rage, and a thirst for strength. I was told that losing sucks, and its all about winning. Not much love in this message. If it takes a man to lose his ability to love to gain a championship then I welcome the losers bracket. I was not taught how to hold ferocity with care.
So as I open my heart to the concept of love, I see how my competitive mind distracts my God given thoughts. The heart doesn't compete. My heart is waiting for my mind to rest long enough to be coached in the language, rules, and spirit of the game called love. It is a game where if played for the right reasons everyone wins. It is a game where the best are the example and the worst are honored for participating.
The most challenging thing I have done in my life is to live for another. I have questioned and still question my ability to commit to one lover. Loving is so much fun...this is my exploitation of love. I am loving for its fruit and I have become unwilling to learn the complete love lessons that are learned in sacrifice, self control, and discipline. I am a love tycoon, seeking to tap into loves aquifers, drill love's lands, and mine love's bedrocks. I have not let go of my addiction to the profits that come from using love, like infatuation, pleasure, or thrills. I am an adolescent lover. This game called love has put on its full court press, it has brought in the hard throwing lefty, and I am in the middle rounds with love's best pound for pound lover. I am excited, because love respects my stupidity, arrogance, and foolishness, it won't use it against me, but for me.
Through Him, with Her, and In Them.......
Amen!
Internal politics
Around the country I see a desire for exploiting resources, gas, oil, minerals, forest, addiction, and sickness. I see a desire for deregulation believing this will solve economic crisis. 
I see a desire for limited collective power and the elimination of unions. I see a desire for traditionalism and fear of moral chaos. I see admiration for self struggle. I see pride in innovation, capitalism, and free-markets. I see an upper middle class arrogantly cheer how possible it is to achieve. I see an elite group of resource hogs talk about how sensible capitalism can be. I recognize me.
I see......how wrapped up I am in my own fear of being alone, experiencing pain, and having pure freedom. I understand you, conservative. You are in me. I remember believing that all I had to do was work hard, get up early, stay late, and put in work. I remember thriving in this individual effort to get me closer to wealth, which I believed would make me, my family, and my community better. Well unfortunately, conservative, you're truths for me are incomplete.
I belong to a community of spiritual people who have instilled in me a respect for community, a commun-ism, no not the communism that makes you cringe like a little lamb, but the commun-ism that teaches me to incorporate cosmos, earth, water, enemies, sick, and foreigner. My commun-ism looks on you with pity, compassion, and empathy. I belong to a community of wise, simpleminded, and rooted people. But conservative in me, don't be afraid, I need you just as much as you despise me.
You have taught me how to push myself beyond the limits my weak body believes it can go. You have instilled a fire in me that motivates me to improve. You slap me in the ass when I am scared, tired, or frozen. You help me to clench my fists. You taught me how to function when alone. You gave the courage to embrace the darkness on my own. So conservative in me, when you have beaten me down, I will be ready once again to join back with you to seek the truth.
I see a desire for limited collective power and the elimination of unions. I see a desire for traditionalism and fear of moral chaos. I see admiration for self struggle. I see pride in innovation, capitalism, and free-markets. I see an upper middle class arrogantly cheer how possible it is to achieve. I see an elite group of resource hogs talk about how sensible capitalism can be. I recognize me. I see......how wrapped up I am in my own fear of being alone, experiencing pain, and having pure freedom. I understand you, conservative. You are in me. I remember believing that all I had to do was work hard, get up early, stay late, and put in work. I remember thriving in this individual effort to get me closer to wealth, which I believed would make me, my family, and my community better. Well unfortunately, conservative, you're truths for me are incomplete.
I belong to a community of spiritual people who have instilled in me a respect for community, a commun-ism, no not the communism that makes you cringe like a little lamb, but the commun-ism that teaches me to incorporate cosmos, earth, water, enemies, sick, and foreigner. My commun-ism looks on you with pity, compassion, and empathy. I belong to a community of wise, simpleminded, and rooted people. But conservative in me, don't be afraid, I need you just as much as you despise me.
You have taught me how to push myself beyond the limits my weak body believes it can go. You have instilled a fire in me that motivates me to improve. You slap me in the ass when I am scared, tired, or frozen. You help me to clench my fists. You taught me how to function when alone. You gave the courage to embrace the darkness on my own. So conservative in me, when you have beaten me down, I will be ready once again to join back with you to seek the truth.
Individualism
I think individualism is the most convenient theory I have come across, but it is at the same time only infallible in fiction. It is straight forward and responsible. It is a very objective understanding of reality, which for me doesn't jive. It is a great tool for pointing out how dependent others are on a systems, organizations, or belonging institutions. It rarely reveals the importance of dependence or acknowledges the value in help. What it doesn't account very well for is dealing with the consequences when people aren't being "responsible" individuals. We are a species that is dependent on our senses and responding to others. We are also an impulsive group of beings. Reality is not very objective for me, and I find it impossible to see how the world can be so clear cut for others.
In society we have institutions that deal with the consequences of those who are struggling to contribute to society in healthy ways. There are governmental and private systems that serve these populations. In most cases these are passionate people who believe in helping. It is a very devalued way to earn a living. But these people organize and collectively contribute to helping those who live in the reality that life is not a simple series of objective decisions that lead to accountability and healthy outcomes. I am happy for those people who have the fortunate communities that reflect a belief that they are being successful "individuals". I am discouraged when self centeredness is called being a good individual. The line in-between is thin and how you perceive it is extremely "subjective". I don't devalue my individuality but I aspire to live interconnected.
In society we have institutions that deal with the consequences of those who are struggling to contribute to society in healthy ways. There are governmental and private systems that serve these populations. In most cases these are passionate people who believe in helping. It is a very devalued way to earn a living. But these people organize and collectively contribute to helping those who live in the reality that life is not a simple series of objective decisions that lead to accountability and healthy outcomes. I am happy for those people who have the fortunate communities that reflect a belief that they are being successful "individuals". I am discouraged when self centeredness is called being a good individual. The line in-between is thin and how you perceive it is extremely "subjective". I don't devalue my individuality but I aspire to live interconnected.
Si se puede!
I used to think that César Estrada Chávez was Mexican. I used to think he fought for immigrant rights. It was by economic circumstance that most people he fought for were immigrants. It was by life circumstance that he was fighting to be treated respectfully. It was by social circumstance that the voice took on the look of a Mexican. It was by spiritual circumstance that his voice was herd. I used to ignorantly hold pride in his name. I used to believe that he was a brown man fighting "The Man". My perceived ideas were angry and possibly misguided."When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me" (1 Corinthians 13:11)
Now I'd like to think I am no longer ignorant. I have since learned that he was born in Arizona. He was American with Mexican heritage. I have since learned that he fought for every worker's human rights, in the form of appropriate working conditions and fair wages. He was like Juan Galt, in that he invented a motor that propels peoples' belief in themselves. But unlike John Galt he was real, not fiction. He did not discriminate...openly. He did not seek to be treated as an oppressed, but asked that he and those like him be treated with dignity and respect. He was an advocate for fairness, justice, and dignity. He was educated, but not by schools. He served in the United States Navy. He was a boy who learned how to be man who could lead men. He is one of my American Heroes.
In Synch with Dirt
It is interesting how the Lord works. For me when I talk of the Lord, I describe a mental concept or philosophy, a formidable connection to my mortality, an understanding of my dependence on others, a strong feeling to be committed and responsible to all(people, animals, water, earth, air, and ideas), an internal guide that surprises, corrects, and steers me. To summarize this it She/He/They are the energy that fuels my mind, body, spirit.
In continuation of my Lenten tradition, I am wanting to share with you how I understand God. It feels natural to want to keep it secret because it feels really foolish to describe something that feels childish. None the less, the essence of healthy and unhealthy are alive and well in me, and rightfully so I teeter respectfully with both. I have learned that in my unhealthiness I can learn, and in my healthiness I can destroy. This lesson for me is beautifully humble.
So the synergy between my mind, body, and spirit is leading me to dirt. Like the color of my skin, I relate to dirt. I recently began planting for the first time in my life. The pilgrimage this Lenten season will be completed with a 24 mile walk to a sacred New Mexican church. There lies a pit that is believed to hold healing "Dirt".
As the political and economic debates about environmental climate change rage on, I know that for me the battle is only with my resistance to a deep connection with dirt. I recognize that business decisions are made in metal towers, using silicon tools, and are complicated by profits. The connection to earth is not discussed by boards of directors (I assume). But that's cool, they serve a different and necessary purpose. I am lucky to feel connected to something as simple as dirt. Haaaaaa haaaaaaaa! Fuck-N-A, I am proud of my journey towards simplicity and scared to get there, cause I know it is a return to the dirt.
Until I get there and God willing it be many years away, I pray to be like the hummingbird.
If your interested the clips are from a documentary, its available for free at Hulu. I highly recommend the 1hr and 1/2
Dirt! The Movie
In continuation of my Lenten tradition, I am wanting to share with you how I understand God. It feels natural to want to keep it secret because it feels really foolish to describe something that feels childish. None the less, the essence of healthy and unhealthy are alive and well in me, and rightfully so I teeter respectfully with both. I have learned that in my unhealthiness I can learn, and in my healthiness I can destroy. This lesson for me is beautifully humble.
So the synergy between my mind, body, and spirit is leading me to dirt. Like the color of my skin, I relate to dirt. I recently began planting for the first time in my life. The pilgrimage this Lenten season will be completed with a 24 mile walk to a sacred New Mexican church. There lies a pit that is believed to hold healing "Dirt".
As the political and economic debates about environmental climate change rage on, I know that for me the battle is only with my resistance to a deep connection with dirt. I recognize that business decisions are made in metal towers, using silicon tools, and are complicated by profits. The connection to earth is not discussed by boards of directors (I assume). But that's cool, they serve a different and necessary purpose. I am lucky to feel connected to something as simple as dirt. Haaaaaa haaaaaaaa! Fuck-N-A, I am proud of my journey towards simplicity and scared to get there, cause I know it is a return to the dirt.
Until I get there and God willing it be many years away, I pray to be like the hummingbird.
If your interested the clips are from a documentary, its available for free at Hulu. I highly recommend the 1hr and 1/2
Dirt! The Movie
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