It comes with the territory...

Is the human condition one of constant struggle? Today I've had a media overload. From the vitriolic speech of tea-baggers to the incessant crudeness of reality shows. I have to be very selective when it comes to watching TV. It's heartbreaking to realize that so much energy is put on sensationalism. But we cannot blame TV nor media for all our troubles.
It was Pride weekend here in Dallas, I volunteer to help at my church's booth. I belong to a very progressive church that is totally inclusive of diversity. It felt wonderful to celebrate our victories as an oppressed group and reaffirm our wishes for the future. On the way back to the car, I had to walk 10 blocks south from where the Pride event was taking place. I saw poverty all around me. Too many dilapidated buildings and houses inhabited by fellow Latinos. They seem particularly quiet, very quiet indeed in comparison to the party going on to the north of their neighborhood. They seemed to be lost in their thoughts. There were about ten or twelve people all together sitting in one yard watching a couple of kids play soccer. They looked tired and bored. They didn't make much noise either.
Some rejoice and others suffer. What a strange symphony. When I was a student of Tibetan Buddhism my lamas taught me to chant for the liberation of suffering and its cause. It is simply complicated. But I know hope transforms the lives of people. The worst thing a human being can be is hopeless. Hope is a call for love and realization. A loud and crystal clear call. I believe happiness exists, it might not be what you imagine it is. It might be even better.
I'm growing lots of hope in my mind-garden, so much indeed that I want to share it with everybody. I'm asking you, friends, Is the human condition one of constant hope?

Mary Travers (1936-2009)

Mary Travers from the group Peter, Paul and Mary passed away today at the age of 72 after a battle with leukemia. It saddens me a great deal since PP&M has always been one of my favorite groups. The harmonious simplicity of their songs have always resonated with that part of my soul that celebrates life. Her voice was as sweet as honey. She was one authentic and soulful artist. She will be missed.

Rain

One of those precious moments in life. Pretzel softly grunting at the downpour; Brownee, the new pup, asleep in my arms. I'm alone in the apartment, dusk has just hit the blinds letting in the last wet purple rays of the dying sun in the bedroom. I'm listening to CalmRadio, an Internet radio station that plays soft and glorious piano music. And I wonder how fast this very moment will melt away in time. So many worries these past months. What makes me a man? What makes me a human being? Is it my identity, my social persona, my likes and dislikes? A thunder clap has just shot across the horizon. Satori. A zen-like revelation on impermanence. Or rather a permanent impermanence. I love to play with words in the same way that a master painter uses shades, textures and hues to depict the landscape of his mind. Where has my depression led me? It has carved a groove, a distinctive groove in my life. But not always a bad one. Since childhood I've been melancholic in nature. I always felt I could time travel through space if I put my mind on it. If fascinated by certain age or time period I would submerge myself in the art, literature, geography and architecture of the period. I secretly long for eras I never lived: turn of the century London, Renaissance Italy, Athens under Pericles, Pre-Columbian North America.
The soothing tickles of the soft melodies of the piano and the dancing rain in my window bring me a rare feeling of solace. Quietly, I breath in and out the atmosphere that has manifested magically in this moment. Just that.

On the Elegance of Dinner Parties

It was a particularly common Thursday. I did laundry in the morning and in the afternoon I prepared fish with white rice. A couple of days ago I went to see Julia and Julie with some friends. As I ate I couldn't help but thinking about all the fabulous dinner parties I've seen on the screen throughout my life. From the philosophical My Dinner With André (1981) to the riveting luscious 19th century banquet displays in The Age of Innocence (1993). Who can also forget Babbette's Feast (1987)?, based on a short story by Isak Dinesen. Dinner can be a dramatic counterpoint to a dull day. When people gather at a dinner table they participate in one of the oldest ritual known to man, sharing. Today I imagine wild red roses flowing from a aquamarine epergne; a tea stained Battenberg lace tablecloth, crisp and flowing at the same time; my long gone set of Fostoria Depression glassware featuring tall, elegant cobalt blue stems. Elegance is a perfect equation of joy and generosity. To aim for beauty has long being the obsession of mankind. Elegance is beauty presented as a gift. It has little to do with money or wealth. True elegance is about sharing. Who can be elegant and selfish? A fool no doubt.

It Was a Hazy Tuesday Morning...I Saw The Fire Within.

The eternal flame wailing...the watershed of your defiance...your glorious tenderness...the hope of angels.....random poetic phrases. There has always been a fire burning inside of me....As a child I ventured with Homer into fantastic worlds of Cyclops and the golden fleece....the bravado of Red-Hot Riding Hood, a jazzy take in cartoon form of the traditional tale.....Japanese proto-anime Astroboy rocketing into space to save the world...Sparkling stars...endless Caribbean Ocean, dignified Palm Trees swaying in the wind like a mythical Isadora Duncan doing her expressionistic Wundertanz...I feel so much, so deeply, so metaphorical...so passionate...so atavistic...so vibrant and colourful...and yet I live in a mostly blind world...maybe I am the blind one, who knows? I crave for a place where art and music are honored as blessings in one's life. I crave for a commUNITY where dance and poetry can overcome prejudice and ignorance. Oh, yeah...I heard it all before, so many times...I'm so naive...so very naive....and silly, and a fool, and idealistic to the extreme, and a dreamer, and ethereal to a fault, and impractical, and a weak link in today's dog eats dog world. I have heard it all before.
I am burning inside, and its a variegated flame, some call it an eternal flame, I call it a life giving flame. I see its reflection in the artists that I meet, in the music that dares to to celebrate the human spirit amidst the honks and clangs of urban traffic.
The beauty of your embrace.
The dignity of your very special dance.
The triumph of your colours against the deadly gray.
The echo of your song that penetrates the walls of doom and bring hope to all.
The Love that you bring into this sea of humanity.


I AM AN ARTIST
I AM AN ARTIST

did you hear me?

I AM AN ARTIST

I want to celebrate with you.

Waiting for a call

A phone call away. I've been waiting all day long for a call. I've had two interviews in this establishment. "We'll let you know either way by Friday" she said.

I'm in that place where you are hopeful and pessimistic at the same time. It's Anxiuosland. It's a land of the absurd, illusive (worst than Alice in Wonderland), where words are a game to be played inside your head and where expectations are like daggers through your heart. And yet I know I am much more than this nerve wracking moment. I can soar pass Anxiousland from a single leap forward. I am a human being that has followed a long and winding life path. An unique path at that. I have made this path for me using all the Love I could gather, all the hopes that a person has in her or his heart.

In the meantime I keep breathing, dancing, loving.

Ted Kennedy 1932-2009

The first time I ever cast a ballot was for Ted Kennedy in the Democratic Party primaries in early 1980. I had just turned 18. Even though he lost his presidential bid I learned that there is always hope in the democratic process. I am one vote and so are you. We are powerful. I was taught from an early age that it was my civic duty to go out and vote. Dad was a lawyer and mom came from a very influential political family in Puerto Rico. A deep belief in the sacredness of the democratic process was paramount in our education. For some reason Ted Kennedy represented that process for me. I know he was part of a big intriguing political family and I also know of his less than perfect personal life but he represented what you could do with your own personal power. You can change the world. Some of us are way less influential but every step I take is a step forward, I'm heading somewhere, always accompanied by both my experiences and my values as a human being. I'm so grateful that we live in a democracy. I know is way less than perfect and that so many of us minorities have struggled to have our basic rights being respected. I hope we can come to a satisfactory conclusion in our health care debate and be able have true equality for all. Ted Kennedy championed these and many more causes. He will be missed.

Summer of 1978

I have been thinking so much of the sea lately. It's no coincidence James Joyce called it "our mother" in his Ulysses. It's been almost a whole year since I have seen the vast ocean. As a Caribbean man, the sea has always been my backdrop, my life's wallpaper so to speak. I often think of the magical summer days I lived in small villas or rented houses in Puerto Rico's Northeast coast. While I was growing up my family would spend two full months on the beach each year during the 60's and 70's. From resort-like Dorado with its white and peaceful coves to the raging surf of Humacao's Palmas del Mar. I distinctively remember July of 1978 at Palmas del Mar. I was about 15 years old. It was a summer of tennis and backgammon as I remember it. The soundtrack from Grease and an Euro-disco band Voyage was all the rage in those days. We were discovering that we fancied adulthood. Me and my beach buddies would do anything we could to imitate adults. We thought adulthood was about pleasure, pure and simple. We would smoke behind close guarded doors and sip rum and coke until we got nauseated. It was a cool thing to do back then. We would be on our bikes all day long with our swimming trunks underneath our clothes so we could rush to the beach or the swimming pool as soon as we wanted. These were formative years for me. I started to find my own identity in the late hours we stayed out by the Mediterranean style villas bathed by the Atlantic Ocean. I remember the mystery and seduction of the starry nights in the marina. Young golden men and vibrant women wearing blue eye shadow were the inhabitants of this world.
Memory is a fantastic editor, I must add. I also felt the angst of inadequacy back then. I had mild acne and was overweight, but boy did I dream back then...I imagined my future life to be full of love and happiness. I was too naive to realize the complexity of my world, present and future.









But these summer days gave me the wonderful gift of discovery. Now, the glaring sun had baptized me into adulthood. Indescribably sensuous adulthood. I could never go back again, my universe was forever changed, I began to dream like an adult, thirsty for adventure, hungry for love.

A Magic Carpet

Trying to fly as high as I can. It's been a day full of promises, several job leads, one phone interview. How much would I love to ride on a magic carpet. Sweeping across the land. It's a strange world this one we are living. Speed is our new god. Acceleration is the highest virtue. It seems like that to me. We have gone insane. We are led to believe that whoever is slow or just takes his or her time will be left behind. I seldom feel I am rushing to nowhere. I crave an open green space where I can quietly sit with a book and a cup of tea. I read Arabian Nights when I was 7 or 8 and marveled about flying carpets. It would definitely be a cozy way to travel around.
I am a very visual individual, and I imagined to fly on a peacock blue Persian rug, what I later came to know as a birjan rug. Intricate patterns interwoven through thousands of silken threads. But isn't life like a magical flying carpet? You are the master weaver. You always carry your pattern with you. You have created this pattern, bit by bit, year after year. The colors are your joys, your tears, your epiphanies and your defeats. A weaver takes time to make a beautiful rug. Then why do we settle with a mass produced bland looking version of a magic carpet?

One morning at the Job Club

Merciful Heavens! I had a bit of a busy day today. I've joined a job club at my local church. It has proven to be quite good since you get support and help of other fellow unemployedlings. In this case 12 heads think better than one, mine. So your efforts in trying to land a job get multiplied by the ideas and feedback offered by others. This period of unemployment has been unprecedented in my life. It's goes beyond my economic situation. It's a feeling, strange as it is, that my soul is unemployed. Let me explain. This last year has been the most devastating year in my life. I lost my anchor in life, my mom, suddenly, without any kind of suspicion about her health. I found her lifeless in her apartment. I'm dealing with the loss in all ways that I can, still it hurts like nothing I have experienced before. Six months later, I made the decision to move to Texas with my brother. I needed to escape the loneliness I was feeling inside, I started to hate the very place I lived for so many years, as if it had something to do with her death.
I could not stand living in the island, maybe I was projecting my inner feelings and found Puerto Rico to be the cause of death both my mother's and my dreams. To some, probably many, it would seem childish to blame a country. Maybe I'm childish, who knows?But I cannot possibly tell you how isolated and hopeless I felt living in a place where I had very few friends left and where I did not relate to the beach culture of the Caribbean.
I saw an open door...Texas. And here I am . I do not know if it's going to be my last destination, but I'm trying my luck like everybody else.

At the job club I mentioned the fact that I was shy when it came to introduce myself to people I did not know. They look at me as if I was from planet Jupiter. Shy? Are you insecure or something? Someone asked. What am I suppose to answer? For some reason I saw the humor in it, it was a most impolite question, it put me on the spot...but it made me laugh at the impertinence of the woman that made the question. She reacted the same way someone would react to something that was disliked like a certain color or a certain type of music. Maybe I'm too Victorian or Edwardian about manners but I think this blabbermouth of a person was rude. I displayed my humble panache in answering...you mean this is not the Insecure Anonymous group?, then I stood up in mock confusion. They all laughed. I have to go into actor mode to overcome my social shyness. Of course it's based on insecurities....may I say a big and loud DUH!
So I'm discovering the New World all over again. Injecting colors and forms into my Self to reanimate my quest for true joy. Who wants to dance with me? What are you doing to inject passion into your life? I would love to know. Bunch of hugs and kisses to all, you are succulent people.


I had to buy these yellow roses, I saw them at the flower shop in Bloggyville, they remind me of frindship and luxury.

Hey, I'm just human.

I'm alive, thank you so much for sending me e-mails reminding me of how loving the blogging community really is. I've been semi-retired lately from writing due to a bout with depression. I often thought about writing but I could not commit my thoughts to the blog. I'm feeling better now and I'm planning to share the comings and goings of my personal landscape with all of you. I'm healing from this depression I just mentioned about. I am very idealistic, I think, and for that same reason I get disappointed by people and situations much too often. I know art, spirituality, colors, books and music can be healing agents too, so are flowers, sunsets and trees, and laughter, so I intend to keep on writing in spite of my depressive condition and unemployment. I beg you all forgiveness for abandoning my post during these hard times. Is good to be back. Love and Peace to all.


I put some red roses here to enjoy their beauty and perfume. I am a hopeless romantic at heart.

TV Wasteland

I've reached the point when I'm about to toss the TV set out of the window. Too bad it isn't my TV set. Michael Jackson is dying in front of us 24/7. I'm sorry he is dead. But I can't stand it anymore. It is a circus out there. Morbid curiosity is nothing new, but I am afraid to turn on the TV because all they are showing is revolting. All I see is reality shows featuring the most uncouth, selfish and narcissistic individuals on earth, followed by more reports on the death of MJ... I only feel safe watching Turner Classics and PBS. I might just as well stop watching TV and start to catch up on my netflix queue. To all TV programmers out there: If you give people JUNK all of the time they are going to get used to it and lower their own standards. Of course you know all about it, you want it to go thet way.

I need my Bach, my Chagall, my Thoreau, my Tagore to keep me sane these days.

A Rainbow of Possibilities

I just came back form the Million Gay March in Dallas. The heat was incredible, around 105 degrees. As I marched, I thought of all those who marched for equal rights for the last 40 years. Four decades ago riots broke in Greenwich Village, New York after a gay bar was raided by the police. This has been identified as the starting point for the struggle for equality for Gay, Lesbian, Bi-Sexual and transgendered people in the United States. The rainbow flag, symbol of the diversity in our community, was flying high and proud today. We are not celebrating our sexual identity or orientation. We celebrate the fact that we have chosen freedom over persecution, dignity over oppression and Love above all. May future generations never have to struggle and suffer in order to embrace who they really are, human beings, loving beings. I say Amen to that!

Suddenly This Summer.

Just came back from the library. I have been doing research on alternative career paths. To tell you the truth, it is actually a lot of fun. You must make a good assessment of your skills and your style of performing in the workplace. Is what they call a "holistic" assessment. The human mind is an amazing instrument. It can forget so easily. By thinking hard about all the tasks I have performed in my professional career and listing them I have made myself aware that I tend to forget how efficient and thorough I have been on my different jobs. Listing all my previous experiences and how I used my ability to analyze, synthesize, communicate made me feel better automatically. How could I have forgotten my ability to be tactful and diplomatic when explaining a difficult situation to my fellow co-workers.? How could I have forgotten about the time when I worked for two months successfully trying to sort out a contract dispute between photographers and a publishing company? I always felt I was handicapped because I have held more than 15 different jobs and because I speak English with a Spanish accent. These "handicaps" were hidden talents. On one hand I am highly adaptable to any job situation, on the other I have a unique bi-cultural perspective. How could I've been so blind?
I hope I can maintain the vision, the "I am a success" vision and not get sidetracked by dreadful comparisons to other people with different circumstances. Or sidetracked by the limiting impositions of my mind that expects to achieve, achieve and achieve without rhyme nor reason. Frustration should be seen as a pink flag ( we do not have red flags at the ranch) warning you to change your perspective in order to see the truth of the matter. In the meantime I breathe and do my homework.

Quietly, I cry

Damn Fear!!!! It has ruled my life, it has ruined my life, do not take me wrong, I am a courageous kind of guy. But fear, if I only understood you completely, if only I knew the antidote...It has been said time and time again that Love is the antidote.

Hail Love!!!! It has ruled my life, it has constructed my life, do not take me wrong, I am a courageous kind of guy. But Love, If I could only understood you completely, if only I knew how to make you appear in my life instantly....It has been said...

Mindful debates in times of financial desperation.

I want to scream, I am so frustrated. But I also want to sing and dance and laugh. And hug friends.

I am trembling with anxiety. I wish I could see my mother again. She died last year. I'll tell her all about my predicaments, my sorrows and my joys. Her loss is like a dagger through my heart. Yet, I believe in Love, in tenderness, in goodwill, in peace and in kindness. I do not have to understand everything, do I?

Pretzel, my dog, rushes up to me. In a swift move he jumps on my lap and starts licking up my teary cheeks.

This is my mountain and I' m climbing it

Hot wind blowing from the south, the heat index is at 105 degrees Fahrenheit in the fair city of Dallas, Texas. Have you ever stuck your head in the oven to see if the roast is ready.?It is that hot but no roast at sight. I decided to made some fresh salmon with pink mashed potatoes (just add a small amount of beets until it takes the exact hue of pink you desire.) It's one of those times when you have 7 books you want to read and cannot make your mind which one to read first. It is one of those times when you change your mind every other second. I have too much time on my hands, I guess. Something I would..oops the dog is throwing up, I must go.

OK, I'm back, the salmon is almost ready, I have yet to clean the rug with Pretzel's "return of food." But I must finish this brief post with a final thought, rather a quote from an unknown person, at least to me: If the mountain was smooth you couldn't climb it. So we all need friction, traction, good hiking boots, roughness and whole lotta faith if we going to get from here to there. I feel anxious, it is no use denying it. But I have chosen my path, up the mountain. I have never thought of myself conventional or even rational to tell the truth. But it is all about YOUR TRUTH, the one I discovered, the one that was revealed to me while I wandered through life. Yes, I live in the steep mountain. Sometimes I just get tired of the difficult climb, but the view from here is breathtaking, its majestic, glorious and full of Love.

Slippery Sleep

I have been sleeping all day long. I have a vivid imagination. So I have been fantasizing about living in a place where there is no unemployment and where people can earn their living by being creative and dynamic. Some people manage to live their dreams. I'm still trying to figure it out. The artist in me wants to come out permanently. But I keep pushing it back, afraid I will not be "good enough" to earn a living doing what I want. I'm being sincere. I wish I could resolve the paradoxical equation that is up in my mind. The world has always yelled "do what makes you happy" at me. The same world has also yelled "but you should choose a career that offers you stability and financial support." Today I feel I'm still 18 and trying to figure things out. But life is a funny business. It's complex and compromises must be made. Today I am oversleeping, not wanting to get up, I suppose. It's a temporary thing. My mind needs a little bit of rest and pampering. But I must get balance and structure back in my life soon. I would have never expected life was going to be like this when I was growing up. It seems to me that when I was younger I really thought life was something you earned as reward for your effort. I am little bit older now and I believe you are the creator of your life and as you create you are prone to make mistakes, have second thoughts and learn throughout the process. To nurture your wounded soul you need not to treat it as a little defenseless baby but as a human being that needs to filter out the negative and let the positive set in. I have been oversleeping today, like a little baby. It's time to call the architect within and get going with those blueprints.

Old Objects, New Life

Could anxiety be a trumpet sounding off for you to pay attention to the important and forget about unimportant details? Well I'm having a wind ensemble orchestra inside my head lately. It's just the Unemployment Jitterbug. This afternoon I watch a rerun of Antique Roadshow (PBS version) and got all inspired about finding more about all the little objet d'art I have collected inside my brain for the last 20+ years. I cannot possibly afford what I want. I do not even think if I had the money I would buy that many antiques. I am thrilled by the stories behind the objects. It's a little bit of an answer to the philosophical Ubi sunt? (Where are they?). Antiques are proof that the past existed, really existed and had function and aesthetics working together for the common good. An Émile Gallé vase, a Philadelphia highboy, a Hokusai woodblock print they all constitute a legacy of beauty or at least the search for beauty. I like simple elegance. It has nothing to do with status symbol. Elegance is a respite from the fast and furious pace of modernity. It is a streamlined marriage between function and form. Antiques remind me of this union. Quietly watching this show calm my anxieties because I am focusing on the ability of us human to create beauty and to present it as a higher accomplishment.

The League of Clueless Impulsive Superheroes

Well it is time to move on, or at least keep moving. I need some little pampering; better, I need creative healing. I went down to Michael's and bought myself a sketchbook, a set of Staedtler's fine liner markers in assorted colors, color pencils and a black fine tip sharpie. Yes, I can be THAT wild and reckless. I then went to Barnes & Nobles, (I always call it Darns & Bubbles, for no exact reason) and bought two books. One is the quintessential job hunting bible What Color Is Your Parachute? 2009 by Richard N. Bolles. I have read this book about four times since the early 80's. It is the best ever. It is a translator of skills. Let me explain, the book helps you identify and label skills you didn't know you even had. it is a true and reliable job hunting compass. It is the original morph book. You can easily morph into many rewarding careers using the skills and experience you already have. The other book I bought was Juicy Pens Thirsty Paper by SARK. I have been a fan of this succulent San Francisco based Artist/Writer/Philosopher/Woman that run with the wolves or just rides on the cable cars genius. I love her as if I knew her. This is a must to have if you want to re-energize your creative juices. Let them flow, baby! So I am drawing, reading, drinking more coffee than usual, walking with Pretzel and eating fruit (I just bought the most delicious nectarines in Whole Foods on Lemmon Ave. They tingled with sweetness, it was an erotic experience)
Later last night I went to Starbucks and sat with my quadruple shot latte with 19 Splendas (Yes. I am exaggerating.) Pull out my magic markers and started doodling. It occurred to me to call myself the Shameless Doodler. We need superheroes these days. So I became one. I started doodling left and right, choosing colors like a demon possessed Pollock. People stared, I could not care less, I was on a mission to save the planet. Extravagant doodles and swirls started to appear on the blank pages. Green lines intersecting turquoise stars. Little pink suns with brown sunglasses. Strange looking castles and sketchy acanthus leaves.
Suddenly the door opened, it was a vision to behold. A middle aged woman came in holding an oversize uncompleted afghan. She was wearing a shirt that said Fearless in fluorescent green letters. She sat down at a table and started to knit. It was no other than the Fearless Knitter a most needed super hero. I am not making this up, I swear. The superheroes started manifesting themselves. Soon enough Caffeine Java Man was making the rounds offering us little sips of caffé macchiato. The League of Clueless Impulsive Heroes came to be.
Life has its ups and downs. It always has and always will. I have suffered from anxiety and depression most of my life. I have been told time and time again that I am TOO sensitive. I tell them- "No!- I am MORE sensitive" If we really take time to listen to our inner selves we can really understand that we are unique individuals. It is useless and painful to compare yourself to others. You will suffer excessively if you define yourself by others. I just took my frustration dealing with the loss of a potential good job and transformed it to something positive and creative. Energy is transferable. Hatred can become compassion, frustration can become creativity. You are using exactly the same energy. You choose.

A wish: I wish I can use my energy and talents in a creative and dynamic career that benefit people in wonderful and miraculous ways. This is my affirmation for today.

Yesterday I Had A Cow, Today The Cow Is Dead.

I'll be brief. I called this morning to explain my situation about taken the wrong test. I invested time and money these past 4 months trying to get into the Alternative Certification Program for the Dallas ISD. I have spent at least $300 dollars in application fees, test fees, and courses. I invested hours on writing essays in both English and Spanish, researching bilingual teaching, meeting several times for interviews with officials. I took two part-time jobs to be able to afford the gas and the fees. I was told this morning that not only my money will not be reimbursed, but that is useless to take the "right" test now because it would be too late for me to be included in the program. So I will not be admitted as a teacher for 09-10. Misinformation and unclear instructions cost me my future livelihood. As simple as pressing the "wrong" button in the computer when I registered for that test one month ago. It is as if they want to get rid of the good candidates, and damn it I am a good candidate fluent in three languages and well versed in history, art and literature. (Please mind my immodesty, but I need to get it out!) I just do not understand. Am I being to naive? Right now I do not know what I am going to do next. Of course, I must look for another job. I am sad, very sad and frustrated. We have become numbers with a long list of check lists trailing behind us, we are being approved or disapproved impersonally.