One Little Christmas Tree
Have a wonderful change in perspective and humble nativity. As I prepare my heart to become a manger, so that Christ may be born again, I realize so much of my past has been denying that, me, a little Christmas tree can light up the world so that some might find their way. I accept today that I withhold the qualities and traits necessary to stand tall enough. If you find that believing that a child was conceived to a virgin Mother challenging, then believing that you can stand tall and light up the world with be just as challenging. I know from experience that my doubt can be powerful and critical perceptions of me can be discouraging. Despite all that keeps me from shining bright, I am.
Feliz Navidad!
Te Amo Mucho
Michele Coleman A Spiritual Artist
Molding a Soul
You invited me into ideas that I have embraced. Ideas that now seem simple, kind, gentle, and curious. You have taught me how to look and see how I am lovable. It seems silly but much of my arrogance, selfishness, and defenses I believe were created to hide the feelings of inadequacy.
You have taught me to believe that I am worth understanding when misunderstood. You have masterfully helped me see that I am not always communicating what I am trying to say. This is helping me see that there are softer words that are better heard by those I love. You have guided me into my projections. You have pointed to the light when all I expected was darkness. You have watched me like a life guard splash in my pity, reminding me there is a way to swim or to stand up because I am in shallow waters. When I have become angry you open your eyes curiously and focus in on mine then ask me to not be scared to be sad, but without words. You remind me to consider that signs and omens point to my soul, when I so badly wish to interpret them in selfish ways. The focus on healing me, helps me to see how impatient or eager I am to be loved by others. I am nervously believing that the work to be done is mine. I say nervously because there is much of me that never felt lovable or maybe acceptable.
Mostly I have realized that I am learning to love by loving me. I am more patient because I have become curious to finding ways to accept me. This spills over into accepting others. I still have my temper but I have started to see the needs that flare it up. I have anger but can now reflect and find the sadness. I still escape and fear rejection. I have not fully dealt with the fear of loss or being left. I am still trying to understand how to accept the loss of love. I still don't do well with good bye.
I cry now when I used to vent and write. I am losing my competitive nature and gaining a contemplative nurture. I am gaining tenacity and strengthening my foundation. I watch a TV show instead of adding an extra workout. I am still vulnerable, and maybe even more vulnerable. I am no longer needing to pretend to be a bad ass. I am no longer needing to feel powerful. I have accepted that I am less in control than I have ever been. I feel raw, foolish, and like an outcast. You taught me about animal spirits, and I can see that I am a pit bull. The belief systems I use are still a bit reckless but when the temperament is harmonious I am effective. I am still an angry young boy at times. I still use vulgarity, but understand it as an expression more than a language. I am pronouncing my availability to be great.
I still rummage through sadness, but it feels more like a mist than the slop it once did. I am realizing my sadness is like a big fluffy cumulus cloud, that looks more intimidating from a distance. As I progress through it, I can see that it is manageable.
I find myself on a new path. My past is still in view and I am still wanting some habits, but I hear your voice telling me I am ready to step into my greatness.
My Father's House
I was asked one evening, after describing how insecure a man I can be, something to such a degree as, didn't I have any good men in my life? I believed the pointedness of the question or wonder. I have been answering this question since. The question or wonder helped me find a warrior spirit, to be less silly, my dignity. The lucid definition may sound like a silly concept, "Warrior Spirit". But the soulful, scary, and grounding definition isn't scary. I look back at this evening and smile. It is embarrassing to say, but I have been in a vulnerable and spineless condition for most of this year. Sadly, I have held a hate for my "father's house".
My father's house is the mythological location in my soul. It is where the men in my life store wisdom and wounds. The wisdom can be represented in numerous ways. I find wisdom mostly when I am having to do the right thing. The wounds are the perspectives that leave me victimized and motivate me to victimize. The wounds are their mistakes. All these are stored as memories, instincts, and habits. I have painted the men close to me with disdain and failure. This has caused me to look beyond them for examples of how to live. I have betrayed my lineage. I have committed treason against my familial army. I have belittled the decedents of the Garcia and Estrada warriors.
I can't help but notice the pain I still haven't dealt. I see it now that I am reflecting on the past year. The joy on the horizon makes me think this is my lagging grief. I keep revisiting the disappointment for not having enough guidance through my adolescence and young adulthood. The last 2 year's circumstances have me question my integrity and proving my dignity. I am moving my disappointment into a better view. I am opening my line of sight and realizing that it is not that there weren't good men in my life, but rather my shortcomings can be better explained through focusing on the complexity of people in my life and their scattered contribution. I am more to blame than any one group in particular.
I must take more responsibility for my lack of fidelity, emotional irresponsibility, and narcissism. This is the dominant message that I have refused to recall from my "Father's House". I am the reason for my choices. I am the captain of my ship. I must be a man among warriors and ask to take the test that will help me learn to be accountable for my choices. That test will credential my valiance, endurance, and love. The men in my life love, each in their own way. I see how important it is to remember that looking for how someone loves is critical to receiving love. I must put on my battle gear, protect my heart because it is sacred, and open my soul's eyes to observing more ways I am loved. The role I play in my life has become more pinnacle than what has been looking for reasons.
I have finally seen how cynical I have been towards the men in my life. My failures with relationships has angered me. I have unfairly put the responsibility for my behaviors, choices, and feelings on my role models. This can't be. Their example must become a learning opportunity and not an example. I am knowledgeable enough to be considerate, compassionate, and patient without falling back on excuses pointing at my "father's house". Equally the same conversation helped me release my disgruntled attitude for my "mother's house".
That evening was a bitter sweet acknowledgment that I am not beyond the pain I like to think all my introspection and health should have freed me from. I love to be challenged, I struggle to be corrected, and I am proud of how willing I am to look inward.
My father's house is the mythological location in my soul. It is where the men in my life store wisdom and wounds. The wisdom can be represented in numerous ways. I find wisdom mostly when I am having to do the right thing. The wounds are the perspectives that leave me victimized and motivate me to victimize. The wounds are their mistakes. All these are stored as memories, instincts, and habits. I have painted the men close to me with disdain and failure. This has caused me to look beyond them for examples of how to live. I have betrayed my lineage. I have committed treason against my familial army. I have belittled the decedents of the Garcia and Estrada warriors.
I can't help but notice the pain I still haven't dealt. I see it now that I am reflecting on the past year. The joy on the horizon makes me think this is my lagging grief. I keep revisiting the disappointment for not having enough guidance through my adolescence and young adulthood. The last 2 year's circumstances have me question my integrity and proving my dignity. I am moving my disappointment into a better view. I am opening my line of sight and realizing that it is not that there weren't good men in my life, but rather my shortcomings can be better explained through focusing on the complexity of people in my life and their scattered contribution. I am more to blame than any one group in particular.
I must take more responsibility for my lack of fidelity, emotional irresponsibility, and narcissism. This is the dominant message that I have refused to recall from my "Father's House". I am the reason for my choices. I am the captain of my ship. I must be a man among warriors and ask to take the test that will help me learn to be accountable for my choices. That test will credential my valiance, endurance, and love. The men in my life love, each in their own way. I see how important it is to remember that looking for how someone loves is critical to receiving love. I must put on my battle gear, protect my heart because it is sacred, and open my soul's eyes to observing more ways I am loved. The role I play in my life has become more pinnacle than what has been looking for reasons.
I have finally seen how cynical I have been towards the men in my life. My failures with relationships has angered me. I have unfairly put the responsibility for my behaviors, choices, and feelings on my role models. This can't be. Their example must become a learning opportunity and not an example. I am knowledgeable enough to be considerate, compassionate, and patient without falling back on excuses pointing at my "father's house". Equally the same conversation helped me release my disgruntled attitude for my "mother's house".
That evening was a bitter sweet acknowledgment that I am not beyond the pain I like to think all my introspection and health should have freed me from. I love to be challenged, I struggle to be corrected, and I am proud of how willing I am to look inward.
Joy of punishment
I don't remember writing about joy. I have so much joy in my life but never write about it. I have so many joyful people in my life but I never write about that. I have so much that I keep from this blog that it is unbalanced. I often wonder why I feel so misunderstood. I don't really understand or demonstrate myself accurately...with balance. I am a joyful person too and I can't tell from reading this blog. I talk of love, but it is a sad love. I have a joyful love.
I think as part of my own punishment for my part in destroying a marriage, I worked really hard to forgive that part of me. Oddly it just turned into hating that part of me. A big part me that was joyful died with "Ronnie". I kept my humor, I regained my romance, but up until now I refused to let myself feel joyful. It is unfortunate that during my forgiveness synthesis I forgot to include joy.
Maybe I didn't forget the joy, I might have just completed the process now. I think of all the music I have chosen, I think of all the failures I have had with loved ones, I think of all the pity I have collected, and I think of how many more serious talks I have had than fun ones. This has helped me realize that I don't write about the joy in my life. I will start with the joy I get from seeing those near me happy. That is the greatest joy, and now it won't be forgotten.
Forgiveness isn't really forgiveness until joy fills the void left from the pain. I am joyful how life has evolved after the end of my marriage. I am joyful about the father I have worked to become. I am joyful for the friendships cultivated, created, and released. I am joyful for the comfort of my family. I am joyful for the hospitality of society. More to come about joy. More to come about what makes me smile
I think as part of my own punishment for my part in destroying a marriage, I worked really hard to forgive that part of me. Oddly it just turned into hating that part of me. A big part me that was joyful died with "Ronnie". I kept my humor, I regained my romance, but up until now I refused to let myself feel joyful. It is unfortunate that during my forgiveness synthesis I forgot to include joy.
Maybe I didn't forget the joy, I might have just completed the process now. I think of all the music I have chosen, I think of all the failures I have had with loved ones, I think of all the pity I have collected, and I think of how many more serious talks I have had than fun ones. This has helped me realize that I don't write about the joy in my life. I will start with the joy I get from seeing those near me happy. That is the greatest joy, and now it won't be forgotten.
Forgiveness isn't really forgiveness until joy fills the void left from the pain. I am joyful how life has evolved after the end of my marriage. I am joyful about the father I have worked to become. I am joyful for the friendships cultivated, created, and released. I am joyful for the comfort of my family. I am joyful for the hospitality of society. More to come about joy. More to come about what makes me smile
Make a difference and contribute!
I have stumbled into greatness, not so much this man, but the example he demonstrates, the healing quality of the expressed word. I have found myself in my writing and I find myself writing more. I am a work in progress and like this film there is the final cut still pending.
Please support this film if you feel drawn to a grassroots project. Its message is a message that I hope will soon be publicized because it inform of the struggle that Chicanos bare. It is information into the machismo that has corroded the buen hombre. It informs how the vato loco grows from innocence into being seen as a menace to society. It shows the effort needed to undue a lifetime of discouragement and inferiority. It highlights an example of dysfunction that steers true. It is commonly asked among people in New Mexico, where are the good men, and this is fertilizer for preparing the soul where better men can grow.
I have been fortunate to sit with Jimmy, talk with him, and open up to him. I see how important it is to be limitless and dream big. I have had an opportunity to erupt with ideas knowing the chances for success are unimportant because the passion to steer in a grand direction is the consequence of hope. God is foolishly wise and I see that quality in Jimmy. I had grown to tell myself all the ways I cannot dream, and Jimmy reminds me in his actions to dream in community, speak with grace, root it in advocacy, and to believe it will happen. One day I will have my own project, and I feel I will have a carnalito advocating for prosperity in the same way I am right now.
Out of the Darkness
With every shadow there is a source of light. When all you can see is shadow, it likely means the light is at your back. If you can picture how cold and dark this might feel, then you can share in the lifestyle of cynical dreams, pessimistic truths, and half-hearted passion. The shadows are not a place that can be avoided. We all live here for some time. What might be avoided is a departure into the light.
Hope is the acknowledgment of light. I have spent a majority of this year accepting and listening to how people recognize me by my shadow. I have spent an equal amount of time defending it, explaining it, an pitying it. I learned to ask permission from my shadow, I asked to be invited to share its borders. I asked my darkness if we could make an adjustment towards the light.
I submitted to the tensions that inspire my shadow to darken. I worked to listen to judgment. I reflected on circumstances that irritated my ego. I became fragile. Much of it was unintentional. This year, I did what it took to turn myself towards the light. It was to turn further and further into the darkness, eventually I turned 180 degrees. Now I can glimpse the light breaking around the obstructions in my life.
Turning is a metaphor for learning to listen, accept, and own. Turning was a difficult collection of actions, events, and emotions. It ranged from working to put down defenses to simply identifying defenses. I became weak, physiologically and emotionally. I embraced resting. I was lazy, while being responsible for actions I would normally avoid. I was sad for a lot more circumstances than I would normally allow myself to grieve. I find myself crying more. I became needy and notice how much of a whiner I can be. I can still see my arrogance and behind it how scared I am. I owned my perverted ways, allowing me to see my shame. I did a lot more discomforting activities than normal. I resisted my addicted nature. I drank less, rested more, just sat, I watched sitcoms, I stop reading, I let my weeds grow, and I tried to be less selfish. I used the muscle movements that I had never trusted. I expressed my jealousy. I reached out for help more often. I allowed myself to be spread thin. I visited places I was judgmental about. I trusted people more. I listened more often then finding contradictions.
I embraced a lot more emotions than I let myself in the past. I was able to really feel perplexed, confused, and worried. I revisited what it feels like to fear losing a lover. Then again I really embraced trying to love and be loved. I did more things for others that were because I wanted to versus out of reciprocity. I realized what it feels like to be let down. I learned how difficult it is to love like a friend while being in love. I learned the difference between being seen as a lover and seen as a friend. I had the heart wrenching struggle of once again being rejected. I am different, and see the shadows with curiosity more than fear.
I behaved in ways I would have normally avoided. I found myself feeling taken advantage of. I felt myself being valued less. I found myself walking on egg shells more often. I found myself spending more money on extras. I found myself drinking more when obligated. I found myself reminding myself of past trespasses. I was beginning to lose hope entirely. I began to question my heroes, mistrust my lover, become jealous of my friends, and shut myself off from the activities I cherished most. I lost myself in my victimization...gently and with care.
I had the courage to be defenseless enough to feel the pain when the coping tactics of the shadow kicked in. I tried my best to keep myself in the places that brought on fear and my shadows. I resisted the urge to protect myself with so much tolerance refusing to allow my ingrained warrior's protective nature to argue for my internal cause. I fought hard to hold the words that are usually release with anger, sending my blood from my torso up toward my head. I may be more patient but also defeated. It didn't give the gifts I thought it would give but it gave me gifts.
I did not regain sight of my hope, my light, until I could have a full 360 degree scan of who I am capable of being. The term "come full circle" fits the analogy. Who I am is who I have been, complicated by who I am seen as and who I think I can be. None are completely accurate or an expression of how undefinable I am. I feel my hope growing and my future brightening. I am excited about the last year. I am excited that I can be flawed, weak, and misunderstood and still thrive.
I know more about the lesser me than ever. I like to be liked and have a difficult time seeing how unlikable I can be. I believe now that I hold on tighter to trespasses more often than I do successes. It feels like towers of stacked successes can easily be wiped out by a visit from tragedy. And now I can see that tragedy is not random or spontaneous. Tragedy is a build up of the sewage. The subtle collection of toxins from unregulated evil or suffering that eventually erupts, boils over, and reacts.
So when tragedy rears it's head, my shadow tries to convince me that I should be surprised, but having gotten to know my shadow, I can testify that my pollution has created or contributed to tragedy's growth. I am an equal reason for the tragedies in my life or how I allow them to impact me. I am liable for the reasons that those that don't like me have. Where before, I might have believed it was all their problem. I can be open to listening to the noise coming from my messages. I can be present to fear... in doses.
With this journey into my shadow, I have a new respect for pessimism. It is a currency that I don't really need when I can use hope. Because hope was so absent, the only resource I can conjure in my shadows is pessimism. I now have an analogy that pessimism is like a two way street. If I turn down that street I realize that the paved path, with a street sign displaying Pessimistic Avenue, will always put me in traffic and dangerously into on coming traffic. The pessimism I have about others, will and has eventually cultivate pessimism about me. I am glad the intersection between life and pessimistic avenue is a four way stop. I no longer see the value in pessimism, but I am still learning how to bank on hope.
This encounter with my shadows is not my last, but it feels like a time has come to look for more light. I see the shadow as a coping strategy for extreme stress. I realize how intense introspection can be required in order to notice shadow qualities. I became disheartened and discouraged by seeing and being asked to see myself in undesirable ways. I have grown to readopt and respect the influence of my victim role. I have sat with my loser concept. I have revisited my abusive tendency. While trying to accept these qualities I found myself immersed in discouraging moments of identity struggle. I was believing and becoming absolutely my shadow.
I was starting to identify as my shadow. I was convincing myself that there too much to overcome to go beyond my shadows. I was working overtime to reconcile events, ideas, and values that I no longer needed to synthesize. I was putting myself into environments that were holding me and binding me to my shadow versus aiding me back to my light. I found mercy again.
I was a prisoner to my shadow. I may still be a prisoner to my shadow. What I can tell is that there is a forgiveness that I am trying to recognize. I am trying to tell the story of my shadows from their wounded perspective. I am trying to see my shadows as crying infants that have yet to be held and soothed. I am trying to tell its story from the circumstances that evoke my coping strategies. I came up with a few shadow qualities that I can forgive.
I am fallible.
I am guilty.
I am dangerous.
I am careless.
I am rude.
I am vulgar.
I am prejudice.
I honored my shadows. In a symbolic way I gave them the necessary attention they cried for. To everyone who wants to blame, punish, criticize, compete, prove, license, regulate, corral, judge, and hate, I join you. I bow to the pain and frigid shadows that have hoarded our attention.
I'm with those
I'm with those that are softly gazing at something hard to see. I am with those who realize being lost is where I am supposed to be. I am with those who share themselves just enough to help others identify the things that they hate about people who share too much. I am with those who fight against judgment by judging those who are guilty and wrong. I am with those who have a home that keeps moving. I'm with those who can't login to peace because my username is encrypted and so is the password I was told to confirm.
I'm with those who hold a culture tightly while it is disintegrating. I am with those who angrily reject the status quo by following the footsteps of dead rebels down identical paths of no change. I am with those who meditate with paradoxes only to be disarmed and dismembered during spiritual warfare. I am with those who can't chose a culture that completely captures my complexity.
I'm with those who take pictures of meaningless things because so many people won't pay attention to meaningful things. I live among those who watch television about reality only to find themselves ignoring the truth. I am with those who find alternative economies for hoarding the same currency. I walk with those who carry a lifeline to everyone they love but only text "xo". I left behind a book of faces who liked me and I linked out and found communities to reach out, but they are few and far between.
I'm with those who have left home, went to school, but only to learn enough not to fit in anymore after coming back. I am with those who "made it out" but not far enough to make it in. I climbed the ladder only to realize it was against the wrong wall. I am with those who found the clothes to wear but not the attitude to go in them. I'm with those who were told to leave this place and never come back, with puzzlement and surprise, I was in my own home. I am with those who visit places because of a chance invitation, only to realize I signed a lease with intent.
I'm with those who made a good run only to find myself off the beaten path. I tied the knot only to later find it was on a shoe I wasn't wearing. I'm with those who were asked to do it yourself but with instructions in a foreign language. I'm with those who long for what they have always wanted until I finally get it. I find myself alone in a city full of people I know.
I'm from a community that has a landmark for people who no longer can afford it. I walk my dogs, a far evolution from running from strays. I am with those who aren't Mexicano, but don't know how they came up with Hispano, more likely trying to be Chicano...all in all not trying to be defined at all though. I live in a country built by immigrants, maintained by illegals, and now exporting most work to cheaper races. I live in a country that has a war on drugs but a secret love affair with the enemy. I eat home cooking from a restaurant owned by a guy from New York.
But these same people remind me that my cynicism isn't shameful at all. I am with those who polish broken hearts knowing broken is perception. I'm those who feel everything belongs because if it didn't then why would it happen. I am with those who take hate and hold it until it calms down and says thanks for understanding. I am with those who can use discomfort and gratitude in the same sentence. I am with those who drink until they are drunk hoping the courage to say intoxicating things won't be misunderstood. I am with those who forgive because it isn't deserved but inconveniently necessary for keeping the spirit free. I am grateful for my failures, surprised by how I am valued, and beginning to be told how special I have become. I am finally turning my love inward, after all these attempts to display it.
I'm with those who hold a culture tightly while it is disintegrating. I am with those who angrily reject the status quo by following the footsteps of dead rebels down identical paths of no change. I am with those who meditate with paradoxes only to be disarmed and dismembered during spiritual warfare. I am with those who can't chose a culture that completely captures my complexity.
I'm with those who take pictures of meaningless things because so many people won't pay attention to meaningful things. I live among those who watch television about reality only to find themselves ignoring the truth. I am with those who find alternative economies for hoarding the same currency. I walk with those who carry a lifeline to everyone they love but only text "xo". I left behind a book of faces who liked me and I linked out and found communities to reach out, but they are few and far between.
I'm with those who have left home, went to school, but only to learn enough not to fit in anymore after coming back. I am with those who "made it out" but not far enough to make it in. I climbed the ladder only to realize it was against the wrong wall. I am with those who found the clothes to wear but not the attitude to go in them. I'm with those who were told to leave this place and never come back, with puzzlement and surprise, I was in my own home. I am with those who visit places because of a chance invitation, only to realize I signed a lease with intent.
I'm with those who made a good run only to find myself off the beaten path. I tied the knot only to later find it was on a shoe I wasn't wearing. I'm with those who were asked to do it yourself but with instructions in a foreign language. I'm with those who long for what they have always wanted until I finally get it. I find myself alone in a city full of people I know.
I'm from a community that has a landmark for people who no longer can afford it. I walk my dogs, a far evolution from running from strays. I am with those who aren't Mexicano, but don't know how they came up with Hispano, more likely trying to be Chicano...all in all not trying to be defined at all though. I live in a country built by immigrants, maintained by illegals, and now exporting most work to cheaper races. I live in a country that has a war on drugs but a secret love affair with the enemy. I eat home cooking from a restaurant owned by a guy from New York.
But these same people remind me that my cynicism isn't shameful at all. I am with those who polish broken hearts knowing broken is perception. I'm those who feel everything belongs because if it didn't then why would it happen. I am with those who take hate and hold it until it calms down and says thanks for understanding. I am with those who can use discomfort and gratitude in the same sentence. I am with those who drink until they are drunk hoping the courage to say intoxicating things won't be misunderstood. I am with those who forgive because it isn't deserved but inconveniently necessary for keeping the spirit free. I am grateful for my failures, surprised by how I am valued, and beginning to be told how special I have become. I am finally turning my love inward, after all these attempts to display it.
- Ron Estrada
Happy Thank You Day!Calamity can be a gift
Pat,
I'll never measure up to the impact you made. I will never set the records you've set. I will never have my principles tested the way yours were. I have yet to love as genuinely as your wife describes. I am so far away from being the man you are perceived to be. That is why you are a remembered and cherished example of mine.
I will look ahead at the impact I can make, ignoring how little distance I've covered, and keeping in peripheral the distance I have to close. I will ignore the records I cross, keeping my passion before glory. I will forgive myself for the principles I cannot fulfill, knowing if I am breathing I have another chance. I will continue to learn to love, despite discouraging circumstances. I will not compare myself to you, but will attend to the gaps between you and me. I will do my best to be cherished and remembered by most, hoping to leave many more regarded memories than bitter ones.
It baffles me where the fight took you, reminding me that mindful is not control. It hurts to have to believe in wellness without you. I never met you and cannot fully believe in you for it, but what people say about you is your legacy. It reminds me to always measure myself by the continuum between how I see myself and how those who never met me might.
RIP
I am not important
And neither are my struggles. An uncle used to always say we aren't here for a long time, but here for a good time. Puro good times. Suffering was a perception, lately it feels more like a choice. Here is a little voyage you can take to see the vastness and maybe a declarative on evolution, divinity, spirit, and cosmos. Click the link below...you must have flash.
I am not as important as I wish I was
I am not as important as I wish I was
Not Fast, Fluid
His name will remain undisclosed but his impact on my life will be hard to recognize because it seeps into most aspects of my success. I am writing about a person who I am scared to lose. I am scared because he is going to one of the most dangerous places in the world for an American soldier. I am a borderline pacifist, but he is my reminder that the revolutionary culture is rarely entirely peaceful. Revolution is still part of the American culture. He isn't the strongest man, the smartest man, the bravest man, nor the most honorable man, but he believes that he is heading that direction. What stands out is what he won't do, and that is refuse to be pitied. This has helped him become a green beret. This has prepared him to interact, immerse, and fight for a people who he cannot trust but has to.
I have a dream that his warrior experiences will bring home a wisdom I was too much of a coward to experience myself. Being a soldier was a fantasy that my cousins and I always chased. I have a subtle regret that stains my soul. It may be the remains of a past life or the bottled potential of a future one. I cannot shake it, like I cannot shake my respect for him. I am not going to dwell on the idea of his danger. I will focus on the hope for future experiences. I am fighting a war here with myself and it seems selfish to want him to be safe. It is painful to have jealousy and disappointment that I cannot be there with him. Since our adolescence we have fought most our battles apart, after having each others back throughout young adulthood.
I sit and think about what we have grown from. Two arrogant boys, dreaming of the big leagues, small town values, big city desires, and tattered souls. We taught each other how be men. I've told him shit he hates hearing. I have told him shit he appreciates. I have shared with him my tears. He has yet to let down his mental guard to show me his heart. It makes me feel like a sissy most times, but I know he can be where he is going because he can guard his heart. We are very similar in our insecurities and we are similar in our hate for losing. We have lost too many times in life and in sport. It never gets easy to do. Our community is an underdog breeding ground. We have an appetite for pain.
I will never be able to understand the pain he carries. He has yet to let me know about the pain he holds. I his journey has led him to be a great warrior. He grew up not the smartest, not the fastest, not the strongest, or not the most principled, but he leaves to fight for his country smarter, fluid, durable, and committed. We may never be measurable to the greatest of men, but he walks the paths that many great men have taken. To my brother God blessed me with at my worst. Do nothing fast, and everything fluid!
Shine bright like a Diamond
Contradiction is learning...
Standardization tells me the path to normal...I am not standard I am learning.
Suli Breaks is a good example of what productive critical thought can create. He looks for contradiction knowing truth is only momentous, never absolute, and always changing. He also has fun with learning, it might make him a walking contradiction.
Suli Breaks is a good example of what productive critical thought can create. He looks for contradiction knowing truth is only momentous, never absolute, and always changing. He also has fun with learning, it might make him a walking contradiction.
Building Weapons of Mass Destruction
Listening to this song is a reminder to me that devastation does not have to scratch our surfaces.
Devastation can and has come from voiced opinions, tormenting regurgitated secrets, and mirrored insecurities. I am an expert marksmen when it comes to tearing down opponents, adversaries, and loved ones when I reach a boiling point. I can be ruthless when it comes to finding words to string together that can unravel someone's safety and trust.
There are too many people who have suffered the wrath of my weapons of mass destruction. I can't apologize for the unknown and numerous times I have unleashed my words. Nor can I undue the damage rendered. I can proliferate the emotions that provoke their use.
I can discover the rogue attitudes that are harvesting ideas and prejudices. I cannot disassemble my stockpile of already existing and primed weapons. They are there with launch codes already programmed to protect the inner most vulnerable parts of my body and soul that my ego is unwilling to expose.
I am finding the villages and tribes inside me who have found refuge in the walled in compounds of my past. Seal Team 6 is performing exercises on my trust. My terrorist organizations are trying to have three cups of tea. I am realizing that dying is no more easy than staying alive while guarded and secluded. There are peace treaties to be made in my head. The childish nature of my soul is playing in fields that were previously saturated with mines, sadly losing limbs to the uncovered explosion of my self hatred.
I am learning to be civilized. I am putting down my Words as Weapons. It may be awhile before I can kick them away and out of reach. My wish is for the Angels of joy to come and confiscate them, replacing them with flowers.
Devastation can and has come from voiced opinions, tormenting regurgitated secrets, and mirrored insecurities. I am an expert marksmen when it comes to tearing down opponents, adversaries, and loved ones when I reach a boiling point. I can be ruthless when it comes to finding words to string together that can unravel someone's safety and trust.
There are too many people who have suffered the wrath of my weapons of mass destruction. I can't apologize for the unknown and numerous times I have unleashed my words. Nor can I undue the damage rendered. I can proliferate the emotions that provoke their use.
I can discover the rogue attitudes that are harvesting ideas and prejudices. I cannot disassemble my stockpile of already existing and primed weapons. They are there with launch codes already programmed to protect the inner most vulnerable parts of my body and soul that my ego is unwilling to expose.
I am finding the villages and tribes inside me who have found refuge in the walled in compounds of my past. Seal Team 6 is performing exercises on my trust. My terrorist organizations are trying to have three cups of tea. I am realizing that dying is no more easy than staying alive while guarded and secluded. There are peace treaties to be made in my head. The childish nature of my soul is playing in fields that were previously saturated with mines, sadly losing limbs to the uncovered explosion of my self hatred.
I am learning to be civilized. I am putting down my Words as Weapons. It may be awhile before I can kick them away and out of reach. My wish is for the Angels of joy to come and confiscate them, replacing them with flowers.
A beautiful Poem to grasp Failure
I was sitting in a session with a young man, no longer a teenager, but learning among teenagers. A student who felt education was important but lived a life that did not cradle his dreams. A young man honest enough to say he was afraid to be a good guy because a fear of failing. I asked him to describe what he meant.
Out came the following stream of greatness.
Out came the following stream of greatness.
Failure Is When
When you're asked to
take the clothes down from
the clothes line the day
its gonna rain, when they
have been hanging there since
the day before and should have
been taken off that night but didn't,
and having to come back late at
night looking at the raindrops
dripping from pants you forgot
to take in.
This is not my poem but his. It is not to be reused, republished, or shared. It is his gift to this blog.
Be the change
In honor of Gandhi's birthday, I'll comment on living his words. There has been an extreme amount of education, learning, and circumstances that have helped me understand the non-violent philosophy. At the same time there have been mistakes, transgressions, and void that have helped me to exercise the non-violent philosophy. I like to describe how easy it is to know of non-violence, and cannot seem to fully be the change that is so desired by my thoughts and ideals.
Non-violence is definitely not another form of positive thinking. Non-violence is a human choice. For me its a lifestyle that defies nature. There are few examples of non-violence in nature. Symbiosis requires that others capitalize or threaten others to survive, predator or prey. The feeding process asks that something be broken down for the building up of the other. Ecology demonstrates the struggle to keep harmony, and nature itself has storms and earthly restlessness. So this choice to be non-violent is a call to divinity.
Non-violence is an expression of faith in others, a trust of others, and a interconnection between all, like divinity. Non-violence calls us to an awareness that ask us to understand the paradox that exists between feasting, sharing, and sacrificing. There is unlikely a pure form of non-violence. Death seems to be the epitome of violence. So life and death are in themselves limits to the human understanding of peace. Existence is for me a constant desire for the perfect. My writing is proof that I have not found peace. In spirituality most folks like to believe that we continue on living in different forms. Non-violence might be a remedy to the emotional violence we can feel when someone hates, dies, or separates.
To narrow this tangent that could veer off into further complexity, I appreciate the example Gandhi left because as I try my own attempt at being non-violent I fail often. With the failure I get to practice self non-violence. This has helped me learn to appreciate and forgive myself. I am a precious gift from, what I like to call God, possibly the only pure non-violent entity. If there is a divinity then it is the only life that does not die, separate, hunger, or fear. The eternality of God is what Gandhi was trying to help me see, and this tells me that non-violence is not susceptible to the instincts we are given as animals.
P.S. Another piece of insight that I have been lost in, is that Gandhi was not a Crossfitter...but he was a cross fit.
Non-violence is definitely not another form of positive thinking. Non-violence is a human choice. For me its a lifestyle that defies nature. There are few examples of non-violence in nature. Symbiosis requires that others capitalize or threaten others to survive, predator or prey. The feeding process asks that something be broken down for the building up of the other. Ecology demonstrates the struggle to keep harmony, and nature itself has storms and earthly restlessness. So this choice to be non-violent is a call to divinity.
Non-violence is an expression of faith in others, a trust of others, and a interconnection between all, like divinity. Non-violence calls us to an awareness that ask us to understand the paradox that exists between feasting, sharing, and sacrificing. There is unlikely a pure form of non-violence. Death seems to be the epitome of violence. So life and death are in themselves limits to the human understanding of peace. Existence is for me a constant desire for the perfect. My writing is proof that I have not found peace. In spirituality most folks like to believe that we continue on living in different forms. Non-violence might be a remedy to the emotional violence we can feel when someone hates, dies, or separates.
To narrow this tangent that could veer off into further complexity, I appreciate the example Gandhi left because as I try my own attempt at being non-violent I fail often. With the failure I get to practice self non-violence. This has helped me learn to appreciate and forgive myself. I am a precious gift from, what I like to call God, possibly the only pure non-violent entity. If there is a divinity then it is the only life that does not die, separate, hunger, or fear. The eternality of God is what Gandhi was trying to help me see, and this tells me that non-violence is not susceptible to the instincts we are given as animals.
P.S. Another piece of insight that I have been lost in, is that Gandhi was not a Crossfitter...but he was a cross fit.
Incentives...that don't
What changed? In early childhood I learned how to learn through play with doses of structure and ciriculum, but without intention to learn. The more I grew the less I played. The more I grew the less I looked forward to school. So knowledge was not a good incentive. Interestingly sports became a larger part of my life. It was how playing was integrated into school. It was the incentive that motivated me to learn.
I once herd a man describe a metaphor about sport. He describes sport as an analogy to war. I never realized how directed I was. My desire to play and have fun was exploited by a country designed for and gearing up a war culture. When I describe war I don't necessarily mean military, I include corporate strategy and capitalist mentalities.
If I wanted to play I had to have good grades. Here lies the incentive. I was lured into knowledge versus immersed through a passion. I haven't thought about what could have been different but I feel like I joined a flow of people that never really learned for liberated reasons. I was never in group of kids that were curious for knowledge. I was in a group of kids curious about winning, popularity, and status. The incentives created from athletics put in the path of education but it did not teach me think critically.
I accept that society kept me in school and that might have satisfied thier need to educate me, but I am still wondering how I might have been inspired to think critically. I think my adolescence and family lifestyle have a greater influence on advanced learning and it now seems unfair for me to be so critical of a system that is providing a service versus a solution.
Incentives...that work
In a conversation with a man, who I am learning to trust and value beyond his reputation, a question was posed, what gets our children up and want to learn? What a beautiful question. And of course like the analytic I can be, I started to grip the question. But only for a little while. I let the unknown go into the cold afternoon, into one our final days of summer. I imagine it flew away like a falcon in search of pray.
What it brought back was another question. I woke this morning to the first brisk morning of the year. I had in my head, at the feet of my conscious, the question, what incentives are societies providing to learn? An obvious way to answer was to remember my reasons why I woke each morning to go to school.
I got up early in life because I didn't have a choice. I remember school being a traumatic place. I remember early on it being the place my mom would leave me. I have vivid memories of the emptiness and fear of watching her walk away. I remember the longing and worry that flooded my day.
As I got older I understood that school was a way of life. It was what was done, without alternative. If I wasn't in school, I wouldn't be like other kids. There were aspects to school that I began to enjoy. The incentives began to come. The first was art. I loved drawing, colors, and crafts. The second was friends. I disappeared into recess. The fun we had left deep memories, so much I can still picture some faces and places.
Around the 3rd grade I was introduced to competitive sports. At this time, I was in a modest catholic school and it had sports teams. I played basketball. This is was what woke me up in the fall mornings. This also sprouted twitterpation. I remember trying to impress girls with my athleticism during these years. If I was a winner she would notice me. It is endearing to reflect on now. I see it as the naive mating ritual for what was to come.
That's it for now.
I find it hard to realize that while I was in elementary school I never really wanted to learn . I was wanting to play and learning to love. I went to school because it had kids who could imagine with me that we were being attacked by Dark Vader and his drones (the other 1st grade class), and they need me to protect the Millenuim Falcon (tractor tire). I see that what I was doing was learning what interested me. What got me up and going to school was obligation first and friendship most. I see that intellect was a by product.
Inspiration
Inspiration is something I chase because I think its necessary for growth. What I have recently acknowledged is that inspiration can leave a bitter aftertaste. The aftertaste is a metaphor for my realization that I get jealous. Seeing someone be great is sprinkled with disheartening toxins.
The variety of emotions that are created when I am inspired are mostly encouraging, but there is a shadow cast. In the shadows I can make out the profile of jealousy. The jealousy provides an opportunity for me to recognize my deficits because I can notice cynicism sparkling. Paying more attention to this I can recognize the judgement. The judgement is my ingrained competitor invoked by my ego.
My ego recalls my lost expectations and my failed intentions. Then it asks my false self to torment my creativity with guilt and shame, holding it accountable for the dreams put aside. The stronger and more stable my false becomes I am allowed to observe the delinquency of my ego at work. I have had the opportunity to see the manufacturing of sadness being pushed out the door into my conscious packaged as cynicism. I am tapping into the sadness that lurks under the comparison and inadequacy that is part of the brew when feeling inspired.
I have a competitive catalyst in my constitution. I have an idea that it lives in my ego. It has motivated, punished, and misguided me. It has a craving for inspiration and cannot digest the judgments that result from interpreting them. I have not learned to take the packages of cynicism and repurpose them as something productive. The consequence is my suffering. I am flushing the filters that help me see sources of suffering to reduce the seepage of disappointment into my happiness. I have found a way to collected and sprout these sadness packages.
The awareness is helping me sprout the toxic packages into forgiveness, grief, and anxiety. The toxicity of my disappointment is positively correlated to the synthesis or coagulation of my sadness. Whether or not the production is useful depends on the toxicity. Regardless it can now be better managed by my improving wellness systems that are alive and thriving. As I am able to metabolize my suffering, I can profit joy.
The variety of emotions that are created when I am inspired are mostly encouraging, but there is a shadow cast. In the shadows I can make out the profile of jealousy. The jealousy provides an opportunity for me to recognize my deficits because I can notice cynicism sparkling. Paying more attention to this I can recognize the judgement. The judgement is my ingrained competitor invoked by my ego.
My ego recalls my lost expectations and my failed intentions. Then it asks my false self to torment my creativity with guilt and shame, holding it accountable for the dreams put aside. The stronger and more stable my false becomes I am allowed to observe the delinquency of my ego at work. I have had the opportunity to see the manufacturing of sadness being pushed out the door into my conscious packaged as cynicism. I am tapping into the sadness that lurks under the comparison and inadequacy that is part of the brew when feeling inspired.
I have a competitive catalyst in my constitution. I have an idea that it lives in my ego. It has motivated, punished, and misguided me. It has a craving for inspiration and cannot digest the judgments that result from interpreting them. I have not learned to take the packages of cynicism and repurpose them as something productive. The consequence is my suffering. I am flushing the filters that help me see sources of suffering to reduce the seepage of disappointment into my happiness. I have found a way to collected and sprout these sadness packages.
The awareness is helping me sprout the toxic packages into forgiveness, grief, and anxiety. The toxicity of my disappointment is positively correlated to the synthesis or coagulation of my sadness. Whether or not the production is useful depends on the toxicity. Regardless it can now be better managed by my improving wellness systems that are alive and thriving. As I am able to metabolize my suffering, I can profit joy.
Thank you!
Federal government and state government, I am writing you to thank you for being there for our flooded and washed away communities. I often complain and hear complaints about how shitty of a job you do. I often mark the injustices that you participate in. Today I realized how caring and supportive you can be. Thank you for being there in the recovery. Thank you for the people, resources, and work you put into hardships that are brought on unexpectedly. America you are great for this. I don't believe there is a best country, but you are thoughtful.
God bless the people who made the choices necessary for recovery to begin in Colorado.
God bless the people who made the choices necessary for recovery to begin in Colorado.
A Reflection on Scripture
Matthew 7:3-5
Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye.
The United States is responsible for its own September 11th. Holding the 9/11 for American grief is not fair. It interesting to discover that America has many Al Qaeda like episodes in our history. We may not have conspired in caves but we did conspire. We may not have believed in democracy that looked or functioned like ours. We may have encourage dictatorship. It appears to be likely that Chileans are saddened by America's role in the overthrow of their elected government. They also might be grieving the death of thousands at the hand of Pinochet, the dictator inserted to lead. Being a global leader for freedom should not come at the expense of other creative peoples.
I say we, but I really mean is more likely a small group of American business men hoping to keep leverage. I cannot help but recognize the hypocrisy that my country seems to display. As more of our past becomes declassified we will recognize our shortcomings. Americans who, like Bin Laden, manipulate with violence to get their way need to be held with compassion. What kind of life have they lived. What traumatic experiences have they lived. What could build a conscience with so much greed, lust, disregard, and disrespect for others and their countries.
We have got to stop fearing communism, socialism, and equality and start learning about it. We have got to trust that China has and is functioning as a communist state. Some might argue that it is successfully adapting to modern economics favorably. So much so that it is the refuge for American corporations. With a majority of products being made in China, a communist country, how fearful are we of it. Our dollars do not seem to fear China's communism. This is not to say that communism is any better or worse than democracy, it is to talk to the fear some American's have for seeing socially oriented governments becoming one.
The speculation that our leaders believe as truth, the belief that socialism is absolutely a gateway to communism is minimizing to the human capacity to change. It is disrespectful to social innovation and the idea of democratic socialism. We have tendencies but we do adapt, adjust, and evolve for the greater good. We have got to be the country that we want to see other countries be. We are being the country that we fear will be created if we don't threaten every country that governs with risk. We need to work with countries that we fear versus threatening their individuality and power. We have to advocate for healthy governments by participating in international laws. We have to remain seated when discussions are confrontational. We have got to let dysfunctional countries find their way with guidance and intervention, not violence and punishment. We have to learn while teaching.
America's fear for what might happen and what profits could be lost seems to motivate our delinquent tendencies. We have our own September 11th to reconcile, we have our own tyrannical behaviors to correct. We have our own apologies to make. We have our own debt to grieving families to carry. So in recognition of September 11th for those we attacked and our lost lives, I hope to take the spec from my own eye, before asking my government to remove theirs.
Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye.
The United States is responsible for its own September 11th. Holding the 9/11 for American grief is not fair. It interesting to discover that America has many Al Qaeda like episodes in our history. We may not have conspired in caves but we did conspire. We may not have believed in democracy that looked or functioned like ours. We may have encourage dictatorship. It appears to be likely that Chileans are saddened by America's role in the overthrow of their elected government. They also might be grieving the death of thousands at the hand of Pinochet, the dictator inserted to lead. Being a global leader for freedom should not come at the expense of other creative peoples.
I say we, but I really mean is more likely a small group of American business men hoping to keep leverage. I cannot help but recognize the hypocrisy that my country seems to display. As more of our past becomes declassified we will recognize our shortcomings. Americans who, like Bin Laden, manipulate with violence to get their way need to be held with compassion. What kind of life have they lived. What traumatic experiences have they lived. What could build a conscience with so much greed, lust, disregard, and disrespect for others and their countries.
We have got to stop fearing communism, socialism, and equality and start learning about it. We have got to trust that China has and is functioning as a communist state. Some might argue that it is successfully adapting to modern economics favorably. So much so that it is the refuge for American corporations. With a majority of products being made in China, a communist country, how fearful are we of it. Our dollars do not seem to fear China's communism. This is not to say that communism is any better or worse than democracy, it is to talk to the fear some American's have for seeing socially oriented governments becoming one.
The speculation that our leaders believe as truth, the belief that socialism is absolutely a gateway to communism is minimizing to the human capacity to change. It is disrespectful to social innovation and the idea of democratic socialism. We have tendencies but we do adapt, adjust, and evolve for the greater good. We have got to be the country that we want to see other countries be. We are being the country that we fear will be created if we don't threaten every country that governs with risk. We need to work with countries that we fear versus threatening their individuality and power. We have to advocate for healthy governments by participating in international laws. We have to remain seated when discussions are confrontational. We have got to let dysfunctional countries find their way with guidance and intervention, not violence and punishment. We have to learn while teaching.
America's fear for what might happen and what profits could be lost seems to motivate our delinquent tendencies. We have our own September 11th to reconcile, we have our own tyrannical behaviors to correct. We have our own apologies to make. We have our own debt to grieving families to carry. So in recognition of September 11th for those we attacked and our lost lives, I hope to take the spec from my own eye, before asking my government to remove theirs.
God is imperfect.....and its perfect
What if God did not have perfect in Her vocabulary. What if God looked at perfection as the death of curiosity. What if God designed everything perfectly to have imperfections in order to create the friction that would put into motion processes, systems, and mechanisms that are designed to teach the principles of divinity.
I like to think how we are designed in the image of our creator and yet we be believe that the creator designed everything. So when I see the spider I see God, or at least God's idea. It isn't hard. God in my own understanding is spirit, human, and divinity. I am asked to see three persons as one God. If God Himself can be three persons, and we are made in God's image then why not wonder if we are misunderstanding heterogeneity.
I like to think, we are everything, but with reason, as in often in spirit and rarely in living expression. Like the boundaries that we put on our states. There are no boundaries just imagined lines that we obey and trust serve a purpose. My body is a boundary serving its purpose but imaginary when approached.
What can be labeled as blemished is often where I find the spiritual part of God. When I see deformity, I see God. There is a uniqueness about the flawed, in some cases it is valued beyond others. We have misprints that are cherished for their mistake. When I see the disparity in cultures I see God. When I see one set of people despise another I see God. God has a discriminant aspect too. Some understand it as yin and yang, heaven or hell, or maybe good and evil. I see it as God struggling with God's reflection, just like I do when I stand in front of the mirror. I wonder if God has had that same struggle at times. I know many would think it is foolish to consider that God may be insecure like me. But I am told I am flesh of the creator's flesh.
God might be a tad insecure too. Maybe God is still wondering weather it is better to be wild or civilized. Maybe God is wondering about being humble when it is equally as joyful to be praised. I like to think that God is trying to tell us that there are no incorrect answers, there is no flawed life, or that our perceptions are similar to the infinite dilemmas that have been mulled over by Herself.
God could very well be expressing sadness about having to be seen as Masculine but wondering about the Feminine. What if God found a problem that is still troubling and unsolved. Maybe we are God's latest invention in Beta mode, with several memory leaks, and a short battery life. Maybe we are beautifully orchestrating the synthesis of God's troubles. It may be that God is diagramming personal struggles on a dark board, magically filled with planets and stars, for the sake of dangling problems to be reasoned and worked through.
We like to think that we got it wrong and we are living in sin, but if there is innocent life being labeled as lesser, than God created imperfect beings that are in the image of Itself. Even the lesser is an expression of God. It is not hard for me to consider God being the misunderstood criminal, the impatient parent, or the passionate tycoon. Each of these is design to be their best and at some point in existence there was an imperfection that led to friction. In friction I can see God, or it is when I am most looking for Her. God is love, and I have yet to know love in the context of anything other than perfect, but not as humans use the word perfect.
I like to think how we are designed in the image of our creator and yet we be believe that the creator designed everything. So when I see the spider I see God, or at least God's idea. It isn't hard. God in my own understanding is spirit, human, and divinity. I am asked to see three persons as one God. If God Himself can be three persons, and we are made in God's image then why not wonder if we are misunderstanding heterogeneity.
I like to think, we are everything, but with reason, as in often in spirit and rarely in living expression. Like the boundaries that we put on our states. There are no boundaries just imagined lines that we obey and trust serve a purpose. My body is a boundary serving its purpose but imaginary when approached.
What can be labeled as blemished is often where I find the spiritual part of God. When I see deformity, I see God. There is a uniqueness about the flawed, in some cases it is valued beyond others. We have misprints that are cherished for their mistake. When I see the disparity in cultures I see God. When I see one set of people despise another I see God. God has a discriminant aspect too. Some understand it as yin and yang, heaven or hell, or maybe good and evil. I see it as God struggling with God's reflection, just like I do when I stand in front of the mirror. I wonder if God has had that same struggle at times. I know many would think it is foolish to consider that God may be insecure like me. But I am told I am flesh of the creator's flesh.
God might be a tad insecure too. Maybe God is still wondering weather it is better to be wild or civilized. Maybe God is wondering about being humble when it is equally as joyful to be praised. I like to think that God is trying to tell us that there are no incorrect answers, there is no flawed life, or that our perceptions are similar to the infinite dilemmas that have been mulled over by Herself.
God could very well be expressing sadness about having to be seen as Masculine but wondering about the Feminine. What if God found a problem that is still troubling and unsolved. Maybe we are God's latest invention in Beta mode, with several memory leaks, and a short battery life. Maybe we are beautifully orchestrating the synthesis of God's troubles. It may be that God is diagramming personal struggles on a dark board, magically filled with planets and stars, for the sake of dangling problems to be reasoned and worked through.
We like to think that we got it wrong and we are living in sin, but if there is innocent life being labeled as lesser, than God created imperfect beings that are in the image of Itself. Even the lesser is an expression of God. It is not hard for me to consider God being the misunderstood criminal, the impatient parent, or the passionate tycoon. Each of these is design to be their best and at some point in existence there was an imperfection that led to friction. In friction I can see God, or it is when I am most looking for Her. God is love, and I have yet to know love in the context of anything other than perfect, but not as humans use the word perfect.
Next Destination...Burning Man
Since the majority of burning man principles are based on radical community and liberated from profits, it seems contradictory in spirit for this film to be sold. It seems to violate the principles of Burning Man. I cannot seem to find the gifted copy. Maybe Steve needs to return home and remember to bring burning man to the world in a context that is truly representative of the culture. Typical colonial mindset...find a culture, immerse, and then capitalize. Maybe I'm naive to this project or cynical because I don't want to spend money watching it.
Anyway, I hope to have a chance at tickets to next year!
Anyway, I hope to have a chance at tickets to next year!
Educated America, but not so much informed
Americans can tend to be an educated culture, but it is still interesting to me how uninformed we are of topics that are outside of making more money, looking better, or creating conveniences. A little cynical but it is my lens.
Syria is a complicated set of circumstances. If you find that globalization is not just a narcissistic convenience for commerce, then let us share in the concern for diplomacy.
This woman is what patriotism should sound like.
Syria is a complicated set of circumstances. If you find that globalization is not just a narcissistic convenience for commerce, then let us share in the concern for diplomacy.
Watch The Regime Responds on PBS. See more from FRONTLINE.
This woman is what patriotism should sound like.
Visit NBCNews.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy
Surfacing thoughts
I have dreamed of being an instrument of healing. I have had grandiose thoughts of being the change I'd like to see in the world. I have traveled to Guatemala first to learn and recently to serve. I found in my first trip that poverty is a harsh perspective for me to look at. It is difficult for me to witness. It is a way of life for millions. It is a lifestyle that I find painful and discouraging. For the people of Guatemala it is home.
The second trip has allowed me to get a better understanding for the lifestyle. There are numerous ways of living in this region. There are economies that facilitate prosperity, religion, and poverty. The colonial legacy that once thrived in Central America still holds an advantage. There are entitled land owners. There are entitled politicians who are masters of networking and ensuring the status quo. There are those who simply wake each morning to hold a job and make a living. There are those who are advocating for the ongoing injustices that might be black and white. There are those who wake up to each day ignorant and foolish. There are those who have little comfort but thrive in community. Guatemala is stepping into the 21 century having a specialized skill set of policing, peasantry, farming, and exporting.
Poverty is alive and strong in Guatemala. It lives in the form of greed, stubbornness, violence, and obedience. There is a hunger in Guatemala for learning, creativity, and integrity. For 30 years this country learned to live by the rules of the military and to unlearn this obedient and mundane culture will take freedom to dream. There is a poverty of money and health for the peasant class, but worst of all there is a poverty of hope. There is a beaten and obedient people who have learned to never leave the yard and do what has always been done. There is not a freedom to dream and shake the cage of "shoulds". There is a fear of sharing.
There is a slow leak in the concrete heart of Guatemala. Americans, who come from the same country that empowered the machine that steam rolled their dreams of communal policies, are now saturating the crusted and calloused skin protecting the creativity that lives in the land, softening it, and seeping in confidence and encouragement. Guatemala is not 3rd world, it is recovering, it is mangled, and it is healing.
The second trip has allowed me to get a better understanding for the lifestyle. There are numerous ways of living in this region. There are economies that facilitate prosperity, religion, and poverty. The colonial legacy that once thrived in Central America still holds an advantage. There are entitled land owners. There are entitled politicians who are masters of networking and ensuring the status quo. There are those who simply wake each morning to hold a job and make a living. There are those who are advocating for the ongoing injustices that might be black and white. There are those who wake up to each day ignorant and foolish. There are those who have little comfort but thrive in community. Guatemala is stepping into the 21 century having a specialized skill set of policing, peasantry, farming, and exporting.
Poverty is alive and strong in Guatemala. It lives in the form of greed, stubbornness, violence, and obedience. There is a hunger in Guatemala for learning, creativity, and integrity. For 30 years this country learned to live by the rules of the military and to unlearn this obedient and mundane culture will take freedom to dream. There is a poverty of money and health for the peasant class, but worst of all there is a poverty of hope. There is a beaten and obedient people who have learned to never leave the yard and do what has always been done. There is not a freedom to dream and shake the cage of "shoulds". There is a fear of sharing.
There is a slow leak in the concrete heart of Guatemala. Americans, who come from the same country that empowered the machine that steam rolled their dreams of communal policies, are now saturating the crusted and calloused skin protecting the creativity that lives in the land, softening it, and seeping in confidence and encouragement. Guatemala is not 3rd world, it is recovering, it is mangled, and it is healing.
For Passion Income Statements
How can we measure our profit margin for an investment in social innovation. There isn't one. What I find is that there is a passion margin. When you get to the bottom line of an income statement for an organization like common hope, the hope should be for passion. If we give people an opportunity to dream, we have seen them come alive and share in the unique abilities that all living things have, a passion to grow.
If resources can be shared across productive systems like a health clinic, a library, an early learning center, educational psychology, a family guidance center, clean and safe community facilities, educators, and dreams, we have seen that return on passion keeps growing. The key market indicators are not in dollars, but graduation rates, teen sexual patience rates, drop in rates, preventative health care usage, and economic stability rates.
When we walked around the barrios of Guatemala we were greeted almost every time. We were acknowledged with every passing, we were treated to connection, only briefly but consistently. The scariest folks in Guatemala were not the ragged and impoverished looking people, it was the unknown. The fear of the consequences and desperation that can come from economic poverty. There is a quiet and humble tranquility that flows through the streets of Guatemala. That is a natural resource that has been suppressed, disrupted, and barried in classism.
There is conflict and politics like in every system. It is not capitalism that destroyed this region. I doubt communism could create less suffering. I do think the fear of equality keeps others from sharing. It might be greed and corruption that feeds the fear of equality. There is a term I rarely hear used in social systems, stingy. There are cultures that are stingy in the human race. Those who are stingy have not been loved enough to know that sharing often results in bounty.
Sharing is not an economically sound strategy for gaining power, and sharing power is rarely admired. I could not have dreamed up this opportunity had I not been able to trust that I could share responsibility with this team. And now, we share in the bounty. We look at each other and realize we have extended our family. We have drilled for love and found it. We have mined for passion and are exporting it. We found a compassion forrest and are harvesting its fruit. We have finalized our sharing statements and have your return on investment, our passion margin. Our dividends are as high as ever, in the currency of gratitude. You are valued!
Buen Provecho,
Ron
Classism, a simple beginning
This is my second trip into Guatamela. The first was spent entirely in a group of classmates on a guided excursion. It was a subtle introduction into the crisis, mysticism, lifestyle, and ecology of the Antigua region. I began to have an opinion on the history being shared. I realized that my country was involved and possibly the reason for the unrest. This inspired me to reflect on much more than history. It caused to accept that I must be part of the restructuring, because the culture can never be restored to an original state, far too much has changed, or been set back.
The current conditions in Guatemala seem to be a class struggle. Those who have the most still believe this is not their problem, but a problem. This is only my opinion because I don't have their perspective. Their solution seems to be to put up higher walls with, greater voltages running through the barbed wire lining the fences. Their solution seems to include their own schools, places to shop and eat, even their own churches, and in the end conceal the problems around them.
I do this myself with emotions and with actions. When I have dishes I put them in the sink, off the counter but out of sight. My roof has leaks in certain areas but I simply close the door hoping it won't leak too bad. Emotionally I do similar thing to ignore overwhelming distractions. I like to exercise, helping me exhaust my emotions into insignificance, by feeling healthy. I occupy myself with leisure as a reward for my a perceived hard work. I lock my doors because others will steal my valuables if I don't. I am ultimately too irritated by the necessary work to be done because it forces me to be responsible for things that are tedious and lack entertainment. The work needed to be done keeps me from having my fun. But in the end that leak turns into a hole and the hole destroys more than my roof it can set me back.
I think the complications have come from the perspective of should pay, what is valued, and how much is enough. We all understand what it feels like to be entitled. I think there is a difference between being entitled to money and privileged to have money. Conquering others for resources and exploiting these booties is not fair. Feeling entitled to currency makes me curios and ignoring the dignity in privilege can lead to prejudice. For now I have come to guess that the highest classes might be the most fearful folks there are.
The current conditions in Guatemala seem to be a class struggle. Those who have the most still believe this is not their problem, but a problem. This is only my opinion because I don't have their perspective. Their solution seems to be to put up higher walls with, greater voltages running through the barbed wire lining the fences. Their solution seems to include their own schools, places to shop and eat, even their own churches, and in the end conceal the problems around them.
I do this myself with emotions and with actions. When I have dishes I put them in the sink, off the counter but out of sight. My roof has leaks in certain areas but I simply close the door hoping it won't leak too bad. Emotionally I do similar thing to ignore overwhelming distractions. I like to exercise, helping me exhaust my emotions into insignificance, by feeling healthy. I occupy myself with leisure as a reward for my a perceived hard work. I lock my doors because others will steal my valuables if I don't. I am ultimately too irritated by the necessary work to be done because it forces me to be responsible for things that are tedious and lack entertainment. The work needed to be done keeps me from having my fun. But in the end that leak turns into a hole and the hole destroys more than my roof it can set me back.
I think the complications have come from the perspective of should pay, what is valued, and how much is enough. We all understand what it feels like to be entitled. I think there is a difference between being entitled to money and privileged to have money. Conquering others for resources and exploiting these booties is not fair. Feeling entitled to currency makes me curios and ignoring the dignity in privilege can lead to prejudice. For now I have come to guess that the highest classes might be the most fearful folks there are.
Aqui en Guatemala
I'm here and being in a new place stimulates worry. I have a story that eased some worry, but did not weaken my caution. I arrived at the airport and things went well. I walked out the gate, exchanged money, and into customs. After i exited customs should have waited in the area just before you exit the airport. I made the mistake of leaving the building and not being able to get back in. You can tell you are leaving the airport when you see several men in blue vests that appear to be official. It's is pretty clear when you are leaving the building because you can see the pick up area. Also should have printed out my itinerary, I didn't being a technology snob, and I was left outside the building without access to my files because I had no connection with my phone. My naïveté caught up to me because the airport didn't have wifi. It may have but I didn't want to break out my iPad outside the airport. I remember thinking just look like you are comfortable.
This part of the story will helps with that. I was waiting for awhile as my shuttle, a little red Chevy (Hostel Los Lagos red carpet service ;) ) didn't come. I had no number, no phone, a language barrier, and a growing fear. So as I look down the railing of the pick up area, searching for my name over and over. The fear by this point had turned in thoughts, what next. I kept calming myself and with every proposition for help from random locals, my anxiety gathers. The pick up area looks like a concert railing. This culture is very festive and people wait at the railing with signs and whooping, like they do when soldiers come home from deployment.
So, starting to wonder what to do next, i start to pay attention to folks who have been there as long as i have, thinking they are here for the opportunity to make a quick dollar or worst case plan a movida. If i rule them out and I need to ask for help, I can stay away from them. Then I couldn't believe it, but I recognized our bus driver from my trip three years ago. He also remembered me. The small signs that demonstrate things are fine. He help me connect with a little peddler who earlier I had ruled out, but ironically he had the hostel's number. They picked me up in five minutes. Here is Jairo from my trip three years ago.
Here is Jairo and I 3 years ago.
Im in love
I have never really felt like I was in love with myself. There is a self hate that I have always held on to. I have rarely done enough to feel worthy of appreciating myself. I have beat myself up far too often. I have cluttered my ideas with doubt. I have chained my dreams with discouragement. I have chosen the conservative routes. I have feared with more intensity than trust. That is changing. I am hardening my values and softening my heart. I am recognizing the beauty in most situations and accepting that perception can be a powerful ingredient to prosperity.
I am on the move!
I am on the move!
Incarceration Rates by Population
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_countries_by_incarceration_rate
One nation under God, indivisible, and Justice for those who are empowered. Forgiveness for the powerful few, the elite humble, the profitable meek, and rare ignorant.
It is the home of the brave often when convinced, promised, or deceived with education and hazard pay...not to mention large no bid contracts.
Land of the Free seems to be empirically unseen for the staggering cultures, land of the discriminant and home of the prejudice appears to be a better statistical match.
All men are created equal, unless it becomes inconvenient and rebellious in the eyes of the status quo. Most should pursue happiness and the entitlements that come from capitalism until the rich elite can conspire guidelines that eliminate or discourage competition.
When one can find themselves in the flow of empowerment and able to tolerate the magnetic forces of addiction, we are as great as the greatest nations. We are capable of being talented and symbiotic. We can and have championed liberty by giving the underdog time on the court.
We are brilliant because we allow the underdog an opportunity to study the play book. We open the practice fields up for everyone. We are still in the direction of democracy. We are close to seeing all people as equal.
We are growing further from valuing them for their contributions versus looking for oppotunities to punish them.
Interesting thought about heaven
Most Christians desire that everyone be Christian so that we all share in the gift of heaven. Universal and catholic faith in a trinity, and not the Catholic religion but the true definition of catholic. There is also a belief that heaven will be illusive to those who are unworthy. So is the acceptance into a place or even state reflective of the process Christians might participate in on judgment day. Is America like heaven? Is this metaphor even fair?
I start thinking about the beliefs needed to get to heaven. Why exclude? If God is capable of infinite forgiveness then why exclude anyone who wishes to live in heaven. Will heaven have an economy? Will heaven have a currency? Does God discriminate? A better question is, if forgiveness is infinite but time isn't as revelations tell us. Does this mean, forgiveness will end as well. Will forgiveness be irrelevant in heaven? Will discrimination be the ultimate gateway to heaven, with worthiness be the golden ticket? Are those who segregate just practicing the ways of their Father? We are made in the image of God, does this mean we are expressing God's ability to discriminate.
I think about the immigrant. Then I question how the right wing Christian lobby seems to believe that heaven should be for everyone. This isn't contradictory to how they believe their God will treat them on judgment day. This also reflects the American self perception that this nation is under God and the moral compass for the world.
The biggest risk I find in religion is feeling righteous enough to think like God. Isn't judging human worth a risky skill, maybe even a skill left for God. Isn't our worth our ticket to heaven. Isn't entrance to heaven the choice of God. Are our borders symbolizing the act of judging worth. One nation under God but only for those who deserve to be in heaven. Judge and you will be judged the same.
As I seek heaven like the immigrant seeks prosperity here, I question whether I want to be in a place where discrimination still exists. I think Gandhi might have hinted at the idea of questioning the goal of heaven if it will be full of religious elitists. Are our borders reflective of the process God chooses for us. I expect heaven to have souls that have discriminated but absent of discrimination. I hope my desire to be without discrimination will be enough to not exclude me from heaven. The paradox is fun. I must learn to not discriminate in order to pass God's discrimination.
I start thinking about the beliefs needed to get to heaven. Why exclude? If God is capable of infinite forgiveness then why exclude anyone who wishes to live in heaven. Will heaven have an economy? Will heaven have a currency? Does God discriminate? A better question is, if forgiveness is infinite but time isn't as revelations tell us. Does this mean, forgiveness will end as well. Will forgiveness be irrelevant in heaven? Will discrimination be the ultimate gateway to heaven, with worthiness be the golden ticket? Are those who segregate just practicing the ways of their Father? We are made in the image of God, does this mean we are expressing God's ability to discriminate.
I think about the immigrant. Then I question how the right wing Christian lobby seems to believe that heaven should be for everyone. This isn't contradictory to how they believe their God will treat them on judgment day. This also reflects the American self perception that this nation is under God and the moral compass for the world.
The biggest risk I find in religion is feeling righteous enough to think like God. Isn't judging human worth a risky skill, maybe even a skill left for God. Isn't our worth our ticket to heaven. Isn't entrance to heaven the choice of God. Are our borders symbolizing the act of judging worth. One nation under God but only for those who deserve to be in heaven. Judge and you will be judged the same.
As I seek heaven like the immigrant seeks prosperity here, I question whether I want to be in a place where discrimination still exists. I think Gandhi might have hinted at the idea of questioning the goal of heaven if it will be full of religious elitists. Are our borders reflective of the process God chooses for us. I expect heaven to have souls that have discriminated but absent of discrimination. I hope my desire to be without discrimination will be enough to not exclude me from heaven. The paradox is fun. I must learn to not discriminate in order to pass God's discrimination.
Why fundraising is hard
Fundraising has been an amazing exercise in humility. You know America is a huge reason why the Guatemala endured a 30 year civil war. I get frustrated and even discouraged because my judgmental self gets irritated and starts to become cynical when I get told I can't help. The dreaded words "no". I want to explain the full history of how the Dulles brothers recklessly manipulated the region. I want to describe how our fear of communism resulted in the genocide of many. I want to describe the agricultural atrocities that we still chose to be blind to. I want to yell at how we can't afford to not help. Then I watch as I continue to be reminded that every little bit helps. I am reminded that I am not the only one who is aware of this country's shadow. I am not the only who one is sending money and effort to Guatemala. Despite most people in my small area of support being ignorant, blind, and uninspired about Guatemala, I can't and won't stop trying to pull the facade of perfection from the face of my country. We are free but others aren't.
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