Sunday, November 2, 2014
Some time ago I read a book titled Anam Cara written by an Irish monk. The Anam Cara is the Celtic concept of friendship. Not the casual friendship between co workers or acquaintances that greet each other in the grocery store but deep, intimate friendship. I am most at home with intimate friends. They provide me of the space where I feel most protected and secure. A friend, a true, loving and supporting friend is tender because he or she are deeply aware of the fragility of the human heart, the ever transitioning states of the soul and the profound and vital connection we all have. A friend, a most noble and loving friend, came to my help last week when I realized I did not have enough money for my rent since I'm currently unemployed. He provided me of some money to help me out. But he gave me a more precious gift when he heard of my desperation. He warmly embraced me and briefly kissed me in the mouth as he said good bye. Tenderness is part of friendship. As friends we protect the wounded and give our all to stop their suffering. His embrace was a healing embrace. Love being the greatest healer. I belong to the fellowship of intimate friends. My life makes sense because I am of service to my friends. Our relationship is secret. Our secrets are sacred. There is mystery in love. I live more when I surrender to the mystery of intimate friendship. It is there where I begin to comprehend what the French call L'Eternel, God.
Posted by The Pink Cowboy at Sunday, November 02, 2014
Friday, October 10, 2014
I find myself revisiting a familiar place. That dreadful dance of unemployment, of lack of income. The dance takes me through public libraries and coffee shops with free wi fi. It takes me to download free music and books to my laptop as if the world was about to end. I am filling up the pantry just before the storm arrives. These days I am entertaining Fear, that raw fear where you have a lost look. "Oh no I will need to admit again to my closest people that I am notable to sustain myself again." my soul shudders, it has not found its cozy home yet. It's Job in Dallas 2014, no pun intended. Like the Biblical character I often feel cursed by something outside of me as if the world I live betrays me in every turn my vivid imagination takes. Do not take me wrong, I acknowledge my gifts and my talents. The Divinity gave me the gift of Empathy, Music, Creativity and Word. And it seems that I live in a place that is not receptive to this. My past previous experience was with people that exploited me for $13.00 an hour for 4 long years and could not care less about me. They lied to me, they overworked me and when I finally mustered the courage to quit they did not even said good bye. A dry "ok, good luck" was the only thing I heard. The boss did not even got up her chair. Yes it all behind now. But you see I have lost a little bit of trust in humanity. My soul is seeking a cozy home. Why are so many people selfish and manipulative? It's a rhetorical question. What great anger do we all have that would do harm to another human being just to satisfy our needs? Not everybody is like this, I know. But in my personal job/Job life experience it has been one abusive relationship after another. They all seem to quickly identify my talents, intelligence, intuition, organization, decorum, the ability to speak 4 languages and then they want me to do their work for them. And I always try to satisfy. In the process I burn, I resent the abuse and friction takes place. My words sound ominous, they are what they are. One harbors hope. Specially when you have been adrift for so long. Is this Karma? I am tired of using esoteric concepts to justify everything in this world. These gray clouds shall pass, I know. But I still need to find my soul a cozy home.
Posted by The Pink Cowboy at Friday, October 10, 2014
Monday, September 8, 2014
Listening to Catalan composer Ramon Lull Cantabem els ocels, medieval, haunting, whispering echoes of ancient castles in Occitania. Time, past and future, has a foundational character in my mindscape. It seems that I am constantly time traveling. The fluidity of time is common to my daily routine. I cannot live in the present, I will be missing the past. I cannot live in the present, I will be missing the future. Oh, don't shout Zen profanities at me. I am being honest. Do not live in the present. It simply does not exist. Try to grasp the sun with your hands. You will not burn. It is impossible to grasp the sun. As the birds from this old song sing their arcane trills I get to fly through music and rhyme into their universe. The hours of the current world wound me, I fly away to another time and era to hide from the last hour, the one that kills.
All hours wound the last one kills
Posted by The Pink Cowboy at Monday, September 08, 2014
Sunday, March 9, 2014
Where are they? Where have they gone? As I drive through those beautiful houses in Highland Park I can't but remember the way it was 30 or 35 years ago when I was part of a tight-knit family. Now mom and dad are gone. Mom died 6 years ago and dad died 16 years ago. It seems like yesterday. I feel lonely and displaced. I am visiting an empty neighborhood. My irrational mind feels lost. Which way do I turn to find my home with my family in it? Still winter...there are days, grey days that are so sad and deep in my heart. A beautiful stillness that makes you cry. As I drive my tears roll down, I try to be stoic to no use. They are gone and I do not want to hear platitudes or Hallmark quotes from anyone. This is my holy, sacred sadness don't you dare to destroy what is mine. Yes, I know it will pass and in no time I will be laughing with a friend or singing with the chorale or buying fancy marmalade from a French cook in Alsace on the Internet or taking the Pretz out for a long walk. I am getting old. I never expected it to come so soon, so uninvited. The other day I was walking down on Greenville and observing the young people being busy and bubbly all around me. I though about my sadness. This sadness is cozy and revelatory. The stillness of winter. The naked tree. My naked soul reduced to its minimum factor. No pretenses, no show-offs, no acting or masquerading. In this nakedness, noiseless and aware I find the divinity. Don't make me explain the divinity, please. It is a mystery. It is truth without the consequences. Those are human. I discovered, finally, unashamedly, that I am a voyager in a dream.
Posted by The Pink Cowboy at Sunday, March 09, 2014
Sunday, January 12, 2014
On another note
I've had the worst writer's block in my life. It has lasted years. But now slowly but surely I am finding a great deal of pleasure in just telling my story. I had to battle with the demons of judgment and validation. I am casting them off. Once I thought I had to survive a tempestuous, melodramatic and sometimes sad life by seeking the approval of others. I wanted to be the most charming, adorable, helpful friend you ever met. And I suffered for it because I could never be myself and could never tell my side of the story because an irrational fear that once I was disliked by someone I would be abandoned. I have grown up since then, little by little I have began to really like who I am, my glitches and my epiphanies. I am a work in progress. Right now I am single. It's OK. I like the SING in SINGle. I get to sing a lot by myself without being interrupted in the middle of my joyful performance. I read and write. I play with my dog. I have friends, not many thankfully.
I love saying hello and smiling. Just like the people I met today at the lower Greenville. I also love to hug. I did not hug people on the lower Greenville. I really love to walk to bring human scale, as opposed to car-scale, to my experience. I love to sing. I love to laugh. My friends, I do not have many, are so sweet, they say hello and they also hug. I am so fortunate.
Posted by The Pink Cowboy at Sunday, January 12, 2014