Music and More

Wow

3rd Eye Vision

I see the matrix.  Yeah, foolishly I have swallowed the little green pill, maybe the red one, can't remember.  It's likely that it didn't matter, and that either pill would have brought me to this same place.  I am referencing the movie plot for the Matrix.  What the hell am I referring to and where am I going with this?

Well, I am able to hold paradox.  Not all paradox, but I realize I have been able to see beyond the dualism that childhood taught me to rely on.  I rarely see circumstances as good or bad.  I scarcely see situations as right or wrong.  I seldom see details as true or false.  I am blessed to be able to know most experiences and possibilities can be looked through for revelations that lie in between polarities.

As a counselor in training, I have learned to seek out what I want from this space between.  This in turn reveals my vulnerabilities because what I look for might reveal what I lack.  After my divorce I asked God to teach me how to love.  I wasn't sure how this prayer would play out.  I do believe it is happening.  And in my worries about embracing love I have been given a gift of recognizing how others fear love.  I think I have a gift for seeing how people guard themselves.  I see the matrix.  It flows in between love and pain, and interpreting what is to be seen is critical because there are blessings and funk all flowing together.  So I can see more clearly the blessings, the underlying wounds, or the sadness.  I can find the points of connection.

How I see is like those distorted images that you have to stare at in order allow the perturbing concealed image to surface.  It takes time at first, but as you understand how to look they get easier to recognize.  What I see depends on how I chose to see it.  Remember, blessings and funk flow in the same space between.  When I look with anger I’ll find the funk, but as I have learned when I look with grace I am finding the blessings.

When does love happen?

I have learned that many parts of societal expectations can limit how a man can let love happen.  A man struggles to love, balancing many paradoxes, making love a challenge.  Men are asked to be loving, when does this happen?  The qualities of love are in contradiction with the preconceived and engrained systematic hopes that society has for men.  Some of these characteristics that seem contradictory to love is toughness, aggression, resistance, power, fearlessness, wealthy, and flawless.  Love seems to be restrained by fear and punishment, but moments of brilliance find a way to be expressed.

I've felt like I have loved best when I balance contradicting states.  The gravity in this case is the extremity of each characteristic, leading to undermining and teetering.  If I am vulnerable I must also remain stable, appearing strong.  When I am gentle can there still be aggression?  When I am caring I'd like to maintain plenty of toughness.  I need to be in touch with my emotions, but I feel like emotions are better processed in a sacred place, out of site.  How come toughness is measured by emotional control?  When I want to speak softly I feel weak and childish.  When I want to be honest I fear using words that will hurt.  When I try to love I feel like I can't fail or make mistakes so I wait until the conditions are absolutely right because if I screw up its going to hurt.  This is hesitation and hesitation lacks confidence.  If I adopt a humble attitude I lose in the power game, and the power game glitters.  I'd like to glitter but still remain modest.  Love is like acrobatics, biking, or rock climbing its a process of falling, failing, and hurting before it becomes second nature.

The learning curve for love can be steep but it depends on who you are loving.  When the company you are loving loves me, balancing is comfortable and falls occur with grace.  When loving with those who fear or despise me, balancing becomes a challenge and the falls lead to injury.  My love is expressed in moments, but my effort can be measured in tears and apologies.  I'm an amateur at best hoping to make heavens Olympic team.

It's only a name or is it?


My name is Ron, after my dad, but I'm not a junior because I don't think I was born entirely in love.  My middle name is Valerio because my maternal grandparents wanted me to remember the traditions that should be carried on. My father was 18 and my mother was 17, so I was more likely born in the passions of infatuation, with a pinch of shame,  hints of lust, likely an accident, but completely in the bonds of whole wheat compassion.  I've told my mom I would have forgiven her if she aborted me.  Sounds awkward, but I love her that much and would have sacrificed my existence to have given her a better chance at understanding family.  We struggled right out of the gate.  Some nights I cry knowing I cut short some of my parents dreams.  Sometimes I see a young mother alone in a grocery store and recognize the fatigue that shortens tempers and suffocates patience.  Despite the difficulty that I was born in, love was given a chance, and it was nurtured often enough to sustain me.

My last name isn't important.  It doesn't do much but link me to a list of people who will be a branch on someone's family tree.  It aligns me with my father's glory and his families story.  It ties me to people past and never met  Though it is not important to me I respect it, knowing it will identify me and carry the essence of my actions.  It reminds me of my family distanced and branched.  Some say, I come from a broken home, and broken isn't a fair term.  It assumes that there is a home out there that isn't broken.  I am a master piece that comes from the workshop of serendipity.  I am a reminder of how serendipity isn't always recognizable.  I am the remnants of a blossoming romance who's time was not meant to last forever.  I am the artwork of my mother and father who gave me the greatest gift a child can receive, a chance.  Thank you Ron Estrada and Francesca Garcia, I am making the most with the tools, attitudes, and time you've shared with me.

Thank you!

Dear Ron,
Thank you!  I know we have been rough on each other over the last 37 years.  I know we've put each other in some binds.  I know we've struggled to be our best at every turn for everyone.  I know we haven't met all expectations, ours nor theirs.  At times, its tough seeing how we are being selfish and we've made it difficult for others because of it, and we're a work in progress.  I know I've let you down.  I know you still haven't forgiven a lot of what we've done together.  I know it is our pattern to swim in scarcity and overlook our blessings.  I can remember times you have looked in the mirror and been disappointed in me, I still remember those words you called me, and how at times you wish you looked different.  I know I stress us out.  I recognize how you've worked hard to straighten us out, blaming us along the way.  I know we've been stubborn and going easy on ourselves has been rare.  We often seem to do our learning the hard way, the long way, or the wrong way.  I know our choice of words  can be ridiculous and unwelcome.  I know we'll have more rough phases ahead.

But Ron, for today thank you.  Today is thanksgiving, and I happy to be apart of us.  I'm grateful to have spent so many ours in your head understanding how loving you would like to be.  I am pleased with how well you have cared for our body, mind, and spirit.  I value how confident you have become and trusting of others this has allowed you to be.  I like how hard you work to be a caring friend.  I still think your creativity expresses us best.  I thank you for the people you have surrounded us with, I enjoy how they accept us for our talents and our flaws.  Despite how sometimes you drain us and and push us to edge , I admire how persistent and enduring you help us be.  I appreciate how you continue to forgive and when you can't you don't stop trying.  Most of all, thank you for learning to love, it has helped us to treat you with the Devine dignity that we all deserve, and be compassionate when we fail.

Random hearts

After a glass was lifted and the condensation from a long standing glass had dripped off, I noticed this heart shaped  ring.  A heart shape has too many meanings to mention, and I am too lazy to enter into mine to write something cleaver and inspiring.  I am just flattered by the heart taking shape in the void rather than the space filled with substance.  Maybe looking into the void for meaning is as significant as seeing it in the forefront.  Happy thanksgiving, wishing you and yours a safe and comforting week of thanks.  

The Sun

It is completely understandable how early civilizations could have worshiped the sun, and how some still do.  I don't even believe that God would be jealous or mind.  The sun is glorious, enduring, and  always pointed at me.  The sun entices me into believing that I am the reason it rose from behind the ridges of rock.  When I try and glance up at it, I can't look too long, like it might see right through me.  The sun lets me feel the cold nights.  Nights, that hold little stars to remind me of the of the brilliance making its way back around.  It stays behind the mountains long enough to make me yearn.  It never gives me anything tangible except the day.  Then again the life is revealed during the day.

Team Dream

Thank you Razoo for providing a valuable donation and fundraising online service. 

Donate Now

We are gathering donations for Common Hope in Guatemala as part of a service trip next August 2013. Your donation will target education, health care, and housing concerns of  Guatemalans. We are committed to raising $4,000 in order to earn the opportunity to visit and work at the Common Hope facility. I am part of a Vision Team trying to make it to Antigua. So please make a donation, and sponsor my efforts to work in Guatemala.

The Vocab

Vocabulary and semantics have a role in my culture, understanding, and perspectives. I'm moved by the complexity that it brings. The words we learn often carry more than a definition. They carry biased and loaded histories. The phrases we learn to build often express these biased experiences. I find myself believing that there are multiple interpretations of similar experiences. I share in so many experiences that i find myself relying on generalizations. What does this do to the importance of semantic and the demand for impressions? It disables my ability to see the uniqueness in most experiences. Some biologists might theorize the purpose of generalizing, and i am not interested in its importance or explanation but rather its dominance. When we communicate with generalization that leads to assumption, we miss the need, we miss the richness of the subtleties of the message. Vocabulary and meaning are manipulating my communities ways of sharing understanding and perspectives, in the end altering my culture.

It may be that my vocabulary is an implementation of an American lingual framework, but my experiences inject life into words giving them energy. The shared energy sustains a culture. For simplicity's sake, culture means, shared beliefs, truths and tradition. Learning is the integrative process I consider responsible for preparing my understanding. My communities are vessels that help me express myself and provide a platform for culture. When I choose to speak, I have to choose words and phrases that will make sense and broker a message that has value. This message is a perspective. I like how the non violent community describes this message as a need.  I create an economy of messages. Needs provide a demand, cultures provide a surplus of perspectives, and communities establish a market.

Immigrating Without Borders

      I immigrated from Albuquerque’s city life to a quieter Santa Fe.  Santa Fe is 50 some odd miles north of Albuquerque along the Camino ...