Quick to forget

Some frustration has come up caused by the angst of fundraising and taxes.  So I have not vented in some time, because I am have been in a wonderful place.  Money and value tend to move me in the direction of intolerance.  So what I believe is that what we value is not necessarily reflective of..."Values".

Taxes:
So I hear so much about how great America is.  I hear about how this country is so productive.  I hear how we are pioneers in this, the most powerful in that, and the best in those.  Well we are fans of our country until it comes time to pay taxes.  I like to the think of taxes as an investment in our country.  When it comes to taxes, some transform America into the villain.  All of sudden America becomes the thief at night. All of sudden America is a wasteful bureaucratic mess.  All of sudden it is full of moochers.   All of sudden we are a bunch of free loading imbeciles that ruin morality and economies.  Taxes are seen as a debt versus an investment.  If America was traded on the stock market what value would it then have.  Wait it is traded on a market, the lobbyist market.

Donation:
It has been really difficult to get business to donate to my Guatemala project.  I understand that if they donated to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that came asking for help they wouldn't have a business, but at the same time I don't.  I would really appreciate if a business owner took the time to discuss how they have extended themselves to the community.  I would appreciate it if a business owner did meet every request even it was with a $5 gift certificate.  I think about how much it takes for me to chose their products and realize they don't reciprocate that same interest in the things I value.  That in turn becomes part of the value measurement of their products.

This experience has really taught me to look beyond a product and the value it brings, and to see the larger profit I contribute to.  Even buying local can mean I am just padding the pockets of a greedy owner versus the board of directors and bonuses throughout a corporation.  I value the redistribution of profits to a community, knowing it takes a community to create a positive culture.  When a corporation or small business mines a community for profits, without considering how to be symbiotic, it becomes like a parasite, feeding until it no longer finds value in its host.  I have learned to look for parasites in my community and accept that sometimes people just are trying to survive themselves.

In the end, I think that what I value tends to be convenient to what I believe.  I think that as my values change, my spending trend tries to keep up.  When I look at my budget, I realize I am still adolescent, hypocritical, and a squanderer.  What I want to spend my money on is not so different from those I have been asking to contribute to my fundraising project and say no.  I am bugged by the lavishness that I think comes with owning a business, and more open to the reality that I don't like to just give my money away either.  What I value leads me to think with bias.  I am foolish to think other people should value what I value too, and most don't, but enough do.  So when I buy that extra beer that I piss into the toilet, I am like that corporation that buys another thousand stupid key chains with their logo on it to be throw away during next years spring cleaning. 

I still need your help? PLEASE!

This documentary gives a great peek at why I am part of a team trying to make its way to Guatemala. Please visit, watch, and support this cause. We can love the poor, with action, along with intent.

Fun...Cup

Happy Tax Season

I miss you Uncle

I lost an Uncle on this day.  His name was Michael.  He was a father figure to me.  He was a hard working and competitive man.  I think about him often.  I miss his toughness.  He taught me to not be scared even though the fear was likely real.  I feel your courage in me.

License to help

I need a license to work with youth who desperately work to hate the licensed.  We have a license for things that can be harmful.  Counseling is one of them, I guess.  You can buy a gun without a license.  I find myself joining a system of counselors manipulated, inspired, and branded for the most part by the theories of people who have studied the scientific perspective.  The scientific perspective is born from a system of institutional education.
I find myself wondering how did local communities lose sight of wellness.  What i hear in my communities is not suffering but more a refusal to see the sickness.  I sadly describe the lower class community as being sick.  It is unfortunately expected to be dysfunctional because functional for them is not the norm, it is different from the educated higher classes.  If I live in a home with cockroaches, i learn to fuction with them, around them, and time has to be spent dealing with them.  For the upper class, roaches are eradicated, trapped, and poisoned.  

I talk with a carnalito and he looks at me like a threatening stranger.  I am the system he has been punished by.  I am the paddle that has smacked his hearts ass.  I am the concerned veterano being forced to wear the uniform of the correction officer.  They smell me and look over me like the vato turning up their barrio street coming to take away their little brother.

I am a wanna be curandero.   I joined up to heal and now I am handcuffed by legislation, licensure, and oaths.  The currandero is like a rare cactus  that blooms under the right conditions.  The artificial and stale mindset instilled by the congnitives has drapped a white hospital like bed clothe over the colorful cotton blouse worn by the curandero.  My gente cannot see me as a friend.  I am drenched in the smell of the system.  I am wearing a uniform that disguises my intention.  I am a foreigner, an alien among the broken hearted, like Christ in His human form among the sick.  I am rejected and ignored because I don't look capable of bringing good news.  If I was tattooed,  dressed street, and spoke with cred, I could have their attention at least.  The language of love and healing is potent but getting people to speak with it is rare.

Spiritually Barren

I have tried to capture so much of myself in this blog. I have learned to write and think clearer. I have tried to heal my wounds as a divorcee, a lonely man, a confused son, and disabled companion. I find myself in space I have never known.

 I might describe it as living in the void. I don't desire much, I don't long for much, I don't grieve much, and I still cannot seem to surface magnificence. I think lethargic might be the best adjective. I feel lost but with no where to be. I feel abandoned with no one to blame. I feel ignored with many people ready to listen to me. I feel asked to be great with a blanket of laziness resting heavily over my lower legs. I feel aimlessly hopeful.

I come across a smiling face and wish I was there.  I can smile today, but it is a conscious smile.  My smiles are thrown out with obligation.  My smiles are worn with fatigue, knowing a smile is the best mask to wear.  I receive random calls and messages that remind me that angels speak through the mouths of those I love.  I am hearing messages that are instructions to keep the faith, be patient, and conquer my fear of admiration.  I am not common, and yet I am not rare, this is the scary space that I worry in.

The only ingredient that I am proud of is my vulnerability.  I am vulnerable.  I am near honest.  I am gripping transparency.  I am not crying anymore.  I am turning the volume down on my senses, colors aren't as vibrant, music isn't moving my feet, and sugar is giving me the nervous shakes.  Is life without ego stale?  Patiently waiting for love to fill in the blanks.