The Pink Cowboy

A home in my heart

2011-08-31T23:11:00.005-05:00

It is all quiet inside the old house. I have moved more than 20 times in my life. I keep a beautiful and cozy house in my heart. It is rather small. One bedroom, an old soft bed, a cherry wood desk and hundreds of leather bound books. The living room has hardwood floors a burgundy sofa with golden pillows, a fireplace, an arm chair and art deco posters on the walls, Outside, a garden gloriously glistens in the sun.

Why I believe in breathing

2010-06-17T14:11:00.003-05:00

The road has been unbearable many times. Many times I have lived under the expectation of others, so eager to please that I forgot what pleased me. Many times I have reached out because Love commanded me to do so. You see the understanding of Love has been the mission of my life. As a young boy I easily understood the power of Love when it comes to wholly transform a situation. Love and tenderness made a little defenseless asthmatic child be able to feel safe enough in this world to dare to take the next full inhalation of oxygen without fearing asphyxia. My beloved mother and paternal grandmother loved me relentlessly, with such overflowing love day and night. Sitting next to me in the wee hours of the morning, watching me tenderly grasp for air as the sun came up. Through their love I found my breathing rhythm again. This memory bring tears of joy to my eyes, because I realize that Love conquers everything, it transforms everything, it gives clean and pure oxygen to the ravished soul.

To collect again is to recollect

2010-06-16T01:13:00.004-05:00

Recollections,
glitter in my eyes
after touching the Christmas ornaments.
I became, for a short while, magical.
I was 4
I was blond
I had a warm and soft body
that moved fast and clumsily.
It was then that I first experience music,
a little portable phonograph
playing "American Patrol."

Dreamland

2010-06-08T23:25:00.003-05:00

I believe we are constantly transforming, developing, changing. I am such a different person from who I was 18 months ago. Life, and its consequences, has a funny way of getting inside me. I am always searching for all the angles, different perspectives. Sometimes I take myself on a journey to a town called exhaustion. My dreamland reconnects me with my origin. My dreamland has nothing to do with me sleeping. It a sort of daydreaming reality that is far more vivid and deep in meaning than any alpha state experience. In my childhood I called this land Rotcehland , an ancient sounding name, an island kingdom between Iceland and Greenland. Politically diverse, more than 26 different languages spoken. A balmy southern island, Paalme; and a frigid north , Kuensalia. I have been the king of this dreamland.

There are days when my sadness takes me to a western beach in Rotcehland, there I sit with Pretzel and think of God protecting me. Or is it Mother Tara protecting me? Maybe the Universe or the Force, it does not matter who.

Lately I've met many people worried about loosing in the game of life. Life is not a game. Refuse to compete, it's barbaric, inhuman. I do not even want to compete. Compete against who? Nobody ever wins. It is forbidden to compete in the Kingdom of Rotcehland. I have declared it so.

Why do we diminish ourselves so?

Today I am thinking of the word DIGNITY, your worth, your reality. Be your bold self, refuse to play any games where fun is nowhere to be seen.

I just received a parcel from the Royal Rotcehlandish Post Service: Flowers for you!

La vache a dit.....mu. The cow said..... moo.

2010-04-16T16:56:00.004-05:00

This is a new post, after some 4 months. Lately, life is becoming vibrant for me. I have met more people than ever and even joined my church choir. So let's see if I can transform that vibrancy into words and images. Being laconic is not one of my traits. I'm an interpretative individual. I rather describe a event using metaphorical language, color and sounds. I'm the guy that's is always looking at life at a different angle. So this is how I feel today.

ELATED, VIBRANT, WORRIED, TRANSITIONAL, FUNCTIONAL, WHIMSICAL, OVERCAST

Dallas Salad

2010-01-06T12:51:00.004-06:00

In this city of the southern plains people form a variegated net of ethnicities. I change stations on my AM radio and hear the lilting tongues speak in Vietnamese, Eritrean, Arabic, Spanish and Cantonese. Busy bees looking for nectar in concrete walls and mega stores. I bet there is honey somewhere, hidden, waiting to be savored by all hungry souls.
I also hover over this sprawled city in North Texas. It is a stretch of humanity. A city that is having open heart surgery at the moment. We all wait to see what will become of Dallas, a cloned city at the moment. I see the endless network of roads, overpasses and expressways. A circulation system of pure concrete. I haven't be able to find the face of this city. It seems that I have to look very hard. I only see hints of cohesion, mists of creative energy, friendly people ready to have a common cause.
I am Dallas. Not yet ready for prime time, searching for identity and relevance. But quite friendly to be honest.

Impression on Everything New

2010-01-04T21:53:00.002-06:00

Renewal. Juxtaposing the old and crumpled with the new and promising, new beginnings, Have you ever wanted to feel the warmth of a lonely candle and burn yourself in the process? Startled by the evocation of times gone I burned myself my the deep abyss of nostalgia. Now I stand up and greet the old trees and the rushing people of the morning hours. I stare at the horizon and laugh with all my heart.

It comes with the territory...

2009-09-22T22:05:00.004-05:00

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)

2009-09-16T23:25:00.007-05:00

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

2009-09-11T18:34:00.005-05:00

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

2009-09-10T18:52:00.005-05:00

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.

2009-09-08T16:57:00.009-05:00

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

2009-09-04T14:35:00.003-05:00

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

2009-08-30T19:47:00.005-05:00

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

2009-08-22T15:47:00.009-05:00

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

2009-08-20T14:34:00.003-05:00

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

2009-08-17T20:31:00.005-05:00

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.

2009-08-16T19:57:00.005-05:00

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

2009-07-06T18:33:00.003-05:00

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

2009-06-28T21:26:00.004-05:00

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.

2009-06-20T15:53:00.004-05:00

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

2009-06-18T15:28:00.005-05:00

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

2009-06-16T17:19:00.003-05:00

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

2009-06-12T14:52:00.006-05:00

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

2009-06-09T20:48:00.007-05:00

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

2009-06-05T13:54:00.008-05:00

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.

2009-06-03T09:40:00.005-05:00

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.

31 flavors of ice SCREAM

2009-06-02T21:47:00.006-05:00

Some people drink, others smoke, I eat ice cream or rather ice SCREAM. As frustrating days go I had a top ten day today. It is all about a test called the EC-4. It must be some kind of cynical joke to call a trick ridden general examination test for teachers in Texas an EC-anything. It was tough, specially when half-way during the examination I discovered, well it was more of a revelation, that I was taking the wrong test. Let me restate. I WAS TAKING THE WRONG TEST. You see I had take a EC-4 test, so I went on-line and registered for it after paying $125. Today I found out there are two different EC-4 tests. To make matter more confusing I was offered a Bilingual Teaching position pending the passing of the EC-4 test. So I registered for the Bilingual EC-4 test. I think it makes perfect sense, but it doesn't make any sense for them (the school district) because I was suppose to take the Generalist EC-4 test. Nobody told me that, I'm fuming, I will have to take a new test and pay $125 again for the right test. So I'm boiling mad and am eating lots and lots of ice SCREAM, French Vanilla with caramel syrup to be exact. Tomorrow I am calling the parties involved in this most confusing situation to see if I can get credit for the wrong-test-I-didn't-study-for that I took this afternoon. I-could-just-hyphenate-myself-to-death-tonight. But dear Scarlett said it best-"Tomorrow is another day."

I Once Had A Blog

2009-05-30T23:12:00.006-05:00

Or should I say, A blog once had me? After several attempts to come back I'm finally here. I have missed you all. It has been a couple of weeks since I have blogged. I took some time off because I got two part time jobs and I did not have access to the Internet. Now I'm back. These few weeks I have missed your blogs, your passionate, living blogs. So full of joy and energy. I missed something I can only identify as the BEAUTY of blogging. For me, it has to do with sharing your crazy thoughts, searching for beauty (not the obvious harmonious one , but the inner one), letting your brain rage with luminous thunderstorms, and sitting down for coffee and blueberry muffins.

I wanted to come back earlier. I yearned for this little blogging joy. I hope you all have forgiven my absence. I was afraid I would come back and find myself with no followers to play cowboys with. Gladly, that's all over.

News: I am becoming a teacher. So a lot of hard work lies ahead. I'm partly scared and partly thrilled. 75% of the people I have told of my most recent vocation have looked me with sad and baffled eyes. They just do not understand why. A teacher?, Why?, Because.... I just want to stick my tongue out and tell them off. Because I believe. Because I have hopes. Because I refuse to be cynical. Because it is a rare honor and privilege to be a mentor, and educator. Because I care. Because there is joy in learning. Because there is beauty in growth. So grow up. Because I might grow up too.

Summer is here. The Texan sun is glaring. I am moving slow. I'm a bit sluggish with this hot weather but I like the deceleration. I also love having an AC and a cool glass of freshly brewed iced tea in my hand. Make it an ice cold beer better. I will put some Copeland on my iPod and pretend I am riding my horse, Pinko, across the Southern Plains. Here's looking at you fellow bloggers.

The Flickering Blog

2009-05-02T15:28:00.003-05:00

I'm in the middle of a thunderstorm. So I'll be very brief. For two whole days my blog was nowhere to be seen. I only had access to my account. I could write a new post but I could not see the actual page. Today, I finally see my blog in its entirety. This reminds me of one of those beautiful and complicated sand mandalas done by Tibetan monks. After they finish their work they destroy the whole mandala. It is a lesson about impermanence. A blog is also impermanent. I'm glad I got it back. But there are no guarantees. One post at a time. It has been a little exercise on non-attachment. Thanks to my darling bloggers for letting me know that they were able to see the blog. I send you all my pink love.

2009-05-01T19:11:00.000-05:00

All is gone. Where is my blog?

Walking

2009-04-25T15:06:00.008-05:00

New sign at the Pink Ranch

I started walking again today. It's just amazing how exercise clears your mind from all the clutter we have absorbed from our daily lives interactions. Today, as I walked, I saw so many roses I felt I was in some kind of paradise. I could smell the scent as I walked briskly passed them. I have been noticing how everything is so green in North Texas. It is truly a feast for the eyes. It is so simple to go for a brisk walk down your neighborhood. Yet we find one million excuses not to do it. We know is good for the body, the mind and the spirit. But so often we are so easily distracted by petty things. We just put doing exercise at the bottom of our Things To Do list. It not only relieves stress. Walking makes you find a physical and emotional place within a community. Walking "dis-isolates" you. You are part of the whole organism of community once again. As I walk I do positive affirmations (Is this a redundancy?). I am so grateful that all my six senses are functioning. I remember reading Emerson and Thoreau and their deep felt joy and wonder while talking walks. I am going to check out those books again at the library. They are so articulate in defining our humanity and its relation with nature. Walking is an effective antidote for stress. I'm walking again this afternoon. Who knows? I might find new treks, new trees to hug or new ideas.

Absit Omen

2009-04-19T19:10:00.007-05:00

Dearest bloggers. I have been very busy lately in my job search. I just wanted to stop by my own blog and tell you how much I appreciate your visits. My mind is running amok these days with thousands of ideas. I am also a little bit obsessed with twitter, which I joined recently, and feel like writing senseless haiku in less than 140 words every 3 hours. Another obsession: Every day I wake up I go to Wikipedia to check on Recent Deaths. It's a little bit morbid. Strangely enough when I find the name of a celebrity (usually actors or actresses of note) in the death lists my heart misses a beat and I feel melancholic. Then, I miss the celebrity terribly and look for info all over the Net. I think I am going to laugh about this little obsession of mine. Am I turning into my own parents? Later in life they loved to read the obituaries to see if any of their friends or acquaintances passed away. Maybe it made them feel like survivors. In the meantime I hope I don't find myself ever on those dreary lists. Absit Omen.

Movie Review: The Edge of Love

2009-04-11T11:14:00.004-05:00

I went to see The Edge of Love last Thursday at Angelika Film Centre in Dallas. The movie deals with the relationship among Thomas Dylan, the celebrated Welsh poet, his wife and a lover-friend of his. Typical love triangle. But the director went berserk trying to use all available camera shots. The film is more an anthology of different styles of filming than a coherent story about an intense love relationship during WWII in London. In matter of an hour you get to see wide angles, soft angles, kaleidoscopic lenses swirling around, intense close-ups, off-focus, blurs, light outbursts, chiaroscuro techniques, low-angle shots (from below), you name it. They all come in rapid secession without adding anything to the movie. The two actresses, Kaira Knightly and Sienna Miller play the lover and the wife respectively. They do a good job. They are absorbed into their characters and give good straight performances. I expected the role of Thomas Dylan, played by Matthew Rhys, to be more prominent and to offer more insight into his inner demons so to speak. I would not call this film a failure, it is fairly well acted but it fails to rise to the occasion. The films wants to project an intense expressionistic view of love in times of war. The abrupt changes in different types of camera shots is too distracting. It has some redeeming shots though. My favorite is the opening scene where Kaira Knightly is singing a lush tropical ballad in the middle of a German bombardment in a London Underground station. All in all, I did not enjoy it very much. Of course, this is only my most humble opinion.

Pasta Day

2009-04-06T19:32:00.004-05:00

It's been a pasta day. Going to the supermarket to buy all the ingredients for my world famous Alfredo sauce. OK it's really Ragu. But an enhanced Ragu at that. I added mushrooms, parsley and my favorite spice ever tarragon. I wish I had a big kitchen and a budget to prepare my favorite recipes. These "between jobs" days call for ready-made inexpensive food. But my heart is in an open market where I can buy fresh produce and breathe in the colors and scents of the fruits of the earth. How poetic! but true. I love those almost stereotypical scenes in movies filmed in Italy. Long old wooden tables with an array of Mediterranean delicacies. Friends and families eating and laughing and choking. OK, leave the choking part out. Do you guys feel the same way about cooking pasta? Now If I have a glass of Chianti in my hands while cooking, then the meal acquires a sublime quality.

I just found out about the earthquake in L'Aquila in central Italy. Those beautiful Italian Renaissance buildings reduced to ruins. It seems that hundred of people have perished. The first thing I thought was that earthquakes do not discriminate. We are so used to hearing about natural disasters in poor and developing countries. But it can happen anywhere, of course. So my heart and my prayers go to those unfortunate people that are left homeless and have lost family members. I'll have my pasta in silence, I do not care to celebrate that much after these terrible news.

Hi, I Have No Name For This Post

2009-04-03T19:27:00.007-05:00

For some strange reason I have had difficulty blogging this week. It's a sort of mental hyperventilation. I want to write about Victorian England, Jorge Luis Borges, a visit to IKEA, my own Caribbean experience, my favorite operas, Balenciaga, orange fruits and vegetables, Route 66, Anglo-Norman kings, Ancient Greece and onomatopoeia as a social phenomenon, just to name a few. I've sat down in front of the computer three times to no avail. I have blogger's block.

In cases like this I become silly...ok, goofy in order to melt away the iceberg found in my paralytic mind.

Beetles I Like:

1.Eudicella gralli

2.Trogodendron fasciculatum

3.Acilius sulcatus

4.Ringo Starr

5.Melolontha hippocastani

Favorite songs to hear while I'm driving away from the city:

1. Top of the World- The Carpenters

2. Proud Mary- CCR

3. Driving My Life Away- Eddie Rabbit

4. The Hampster Dance Song- I Have No Idea Who Plays It?

5. Love Is A Many-Splendored Thing- The Four Aces

Favorite anything:

1. Marimekko prints

2. The Palatine Uvula

3. Cuban Timbales Drums

4. Polish Tatra Mountains wooden boxes

5. Macaroni and Cheese

That felt good, nothing like nonsense to rekindle the blogger's soul. Do I hear Chicken Soup for the Blogger's Soul? Please make your contributions in the form of advise to help me overcome this blogger's block.

Shhh, There Is An Orange On Stage

2009-03-30T17:51:00.003-05:00

I just ate an orange. So sweet and juicy. I love smelling the peel, it has the scent of springtime. A quiet simple moment. Quiet is what I need. I am, generally speaking, a soft person. Some say I think too much and that I am too idealistic. All through my adult life I hated that harsh judgement on me. I may be MORE idealistic than some, but I am not TOO idealistic. It's a matter of degrees. I was fired Monday morning from my temporary job scoring English compositions. I failed to pass three surprise validation tests. It's ok, it is not the end of the world. But I must say something about the experience.

Such coldness in hiring and dismissing people. I was translated into a percentage number. I did not survive on account of my under 65% number. I will keep on looking for a new job. I am considering becoming a teacher. It will definitely lift me from poverty. But I know first hand the challenges that it would bring. Being a teacher is not an easy job. Teaching will not make any sense if you are not committed to it. Burnout is a reality. In my last teaching job I broke my voice 7 times during the Academic year and had a bout with bronchitis. Still I believe that we can improve our lives through education. Education is the true equalizer among us. Everyone should be given the opportunity of Education. In this I firmly believe.

So I'll keep you posted on that one.

In the meantime, a hot bath, poetry, and oranges.

Gods and Heroes

2009-03-28T16:29:00.006-05:00

"... black-winged night,

into the bosom of Erebus dark and deepLaid a wind-born egg, and as the season rolledForth sprang Love, the longed-for, shinning with

wings of gold."

The Birds, Aristophanes (circa 446-386 B.C.E.)

The wind is blowing fiercely outside and the temperature has dipped into the 30's. I decided to stay home and warm up with a cup of coffee and a book I recently took out from the library. The book, Mythology by Edith Hamilton (1867-1963), was one of my favorite books growing up in the balmy Caribbean. Even though my island was thousands of miles away from the Aegean Sea I could see war clad heroes and immortal gods roaming about the rugged acantilados (sea cliffs) of Borinquen (PuertoRico).

I was a sick child. Bedridden by asthma I took to reading from an early age in order to placate my anxiety. My father lost his first child in Spain due to a very negligent medical system. He was overcautious about any of his children's health issues. I perceived his deep anxiety every time he saw me gasping for air and crying in fear that I might die. Asthma was an existential affair to me. At only six or seven years old I could feel the mayhem I was causing in my home. I was the center of attention because I had to be taken care of and monitored. I vividly remember my father injecting Adrenaline into my arm at 3 o'clock in the morning. My lips had a purplish undertone due to the lack of oxygen. Back then, the 60's, there was limited knowledge on the condition. My Catalonian grandmother, Abita, would sit next to my bed giving me chest rubs with alcoholado (bay rum) filled with eucalyptus leaves. She would pray to the Holy Infant of Prague for my survival. Those prayers still inhabit my soul. They were tender, heartfelt prayers. In moments of fear and panic in my life I go deep inside and connect with the deep vibrating sounds of Abita's husky voice.

One day my father brought me three gigantic books with very colorful illustrations. One of the books was the The Iliad. I was captivated by the stories in that book. I saw myself in them on account that my name is Hector like the Trojan warrior prince. I read about the capricious gods and combatant mortals. From my bed I imagined the real world to be a n heroic saga. These stories whetted my appetite for creativity and critical thinking. The Greek myths are, simply put, lessons in human ethics. A child that learns about the gifts of antiquity in the form of literature and art is a child that realizes that he or she is a vital cultural descendant of those marvelous people that gave us civilization. Zeus, Dionysus, Demeter, Odysseus, the Muses and Medusa the Gorgon stand for the complexity and meaning of our innermost human traits. Love, triumph, defeat, betrayal, happiness and sorrow among them. In our present world we have forgotten our past. We are very much disconnected from the glory and richness of the Ancient World.

This stormy day I feel fragile and a bit distant from the insane speed of our society and the bumpy roads of modernity. I feel reduced to a number (read NUMBer). This is contrary to my spirit. Those readings about gods and heroes give me strength for I know I am the son of their triumphs. I am not longer isolated from my humanity. I am of a race (Human race) that emerged from vicissitude and need. Metaphors are necessary for this voyage. Symbols are important roadsigns. They keep you guided. Symbols clarify the reasons for our longings and infuse our understanding with the vibrancy of life itself. Let the wind blow so I may take refuge in an otherworldly Theban cave where the lyre merrily sings Sapphic poetry of Love and courageous heroes set aside their glimmering helmets for the luminosity of the glowing fire of our human adventure.

Old is Beautiful

2009-03-24T20:05:00.005-05:00

I am looking forward to growing old. Very, very old. I would love to see how the little hair I have left turns white. I think it will complement my skin tone and my eyes. I want to look like Gandalf from Lord of the Rings. I wonder if my hands will look like my Basque grandfather ancient hands; brittle and spotted; gentle and warm. I hope I get lots of wrinkles, seriously. You see I love maps and I would like to wear one in my face. Imagine a continent full of bays and peninsulas drawn in your forehead, just gorgeous. By then I would have accumulated hundreds upon hundreds of personal anecdotes. I will soon become a great conversationalist. And I will not be agitated or mortified by hasty people or desperate circumstances because I will be totally convinced that Love conquers all. I think of old age as an elegant waltz full of joy and enchantment.

I have been always fascinated by old people. They are walking encyclopedias of the human experience. Being surrounded my old people enriches my life. I am deeply grateful for them.

Someone calibrate me, please!

2009-03-23T17:58:00.004-05:00

Evaluating and being evaluated. I evaluate you and you evaluate me. If your evaluation does not match my evaluation then I must be evaluated. If I evaluate well I am promoted. If I do not evaluate well then I am given a second chance. That second chance is called a calibration. If I am calibrated then I have nothing to worry about. But, if I am not calibrated then I have to take a validation test. There are two outcomes to that specific validation. You can be successfully validated or unsuccessfully invalidated. If you are invalidated you are ousted from the project. You are sent to Devil's island to do hard labor (Read unemployment). But if you are successfully validated then you can start evaluating all over again. And so it goes.

We have achieved a true form of civilized living. I am being ironic, well maybe cynical. Though I hate to be cynical. You see I got a temporary job. I am grateful for it. But I am baffled at the level of supervision and total control of mind and body. You are being timed. You score papers for 7.0 hours. English compositions from 4th and 7th graders. Fair enough. You cannot talk to the person sitting next to you. The supervisor lets you know every hour on the hour what your percentages of accuracy and speed are. "Careful, your validations are running low. You are at 72.5%. And your speed is at 76%, so hurry up, don't think too much", that's my hourly labor lullaby. We humans are strange animals, I must say. Such a need for calibration and validation. I never knew Orwell's 1984 really existed. I am glad I have a job but the only way to get through this one is to laugh at the absurdity of it all. So, if any of you needs to be evaluated or validated let me know I have a place that's perfect for you.

Happy St. Patrick's To All!

2009-03-15T16:34:00.012-05:00

Wishing you the greenest St. Patrick's Day. I listed 5 of my favorite Irish contributions to our world heritage. The Pink Ranch turns kelly green for the week. BEANTAS!

The Book of Kells- This illuminated manuscript dating back to the 9th century is kept at Trinity College in Dublin. The best calligraphy the Western world has ever seen, in my most humble opinion. The majuscules are exquisite examples of art and religious devotion. A feast for the eyes.

Turlough Carolan (1670-1738)- The blind harp virtuoso. His composition are evocative of the beauty of the Emerald Isle.

The Anam Cara- The concept of soulful friendship is both inspiring and profound. Its ideals of true intimacy, loyalty and love truly articulate our sacred bonds.

County Donegal- The sweet sounds of Irish can still be heard in along this stunning landscape. As part of the Gaeltacht, designated area where Irish is the predominant language, it is a treasure trove for the study of Irish culture and philology.

Clannad- One of the most famous Irish music groups. Haunting music that embodies our mystical longing for a world where mystery and revelation are common day occurrences.

In Praise Of Opera

2009-03-14T16:31:00.007-05:00

It is a day for Grand Opera at the ranch. I have been watching my favorite arias on Youtube. Opera has been part of my life since I was a toddler. Dad loved his Verdi and Wagner. I used to sneak into his room and quietly sit in a corner while he was listening to the bombastic sounds of Carmen's "Overture" and the "Anvil Chorus" from Il Trovatore (1853). Back then my world was a strange combination of asthma and Opera. Maybe the symphonic whizzing of my constricted lungs had something to do with it. Opera was my first alphabet. I learned to decipher the desperate emotion in arias such as "O Mio Babbino Caro" from Gianni Schicchi (1918) and the patriotic "Va pensiero" from Verdi's Nabucco (1842) long before I learned how to read and write. Melodies such as that of the aria "Viens, Malika" from Léo Delibes Lakmé (1883) offered an amplitude of feeling and sensitivity to the concept of living and loving. Years later "Ebben? Ne andrò lontana..." from Alfredo Catalani's La Wally (1892) and "La mamma e morta" from Umberto Giordano's Andrea Chenier (1896) would accurately reflect my feelings of irony and loss. Opera is probably the most complete artistic genre ever invented. It combines music, theatre, poetry and song at a grand scale. Opera is a brilliant equation in music form. It gives wings to our ideas and emotions. Operas are sagas for the heart. After I have seen an opera onstage I have come out of the theatre feeling a transformed person. The grand drama of Opera idealizes our life experiences. This idealization of our struggle to survive and persevere gives us the triumphant perspective of the human condition. The experience of Opera immerses us in the intensity of our humanity. The deep, almost overwhelming drama of life and circumstances is what gives the genre its inner fire. The undulating cascades of song and symphonic music create a landscape never to be forgotten after we have left the theatre. In a way, opera combines the indelible memory of music with the vibrancy of an emotional adventure like the human heart only knows.

This Cowboy Is Riding Again

2009-03-10T19:40:00.003-05:00

Five days ago I woke up, shook my empty gallon of Motts Apple Juice container filled with small change and headed for shelter at my local Starbucks. I needed the comfort and the coffee to relax me in these most unemployed days. As I was sipping my coffee I picked up a wrinkled copy of the Dallas Morning News left behind by a hasty customer. I started to read it. A few minutes later a Korean gentleman sitting nearby handed me a section of the newspaper. I was a little bit startled by his broad smile and the fact that he subtlety insisted I take that other section. He did not speak a single word. I figured out he was Korean because he had a shopping bag written in that language. I took that other section of the newspaper timidly, thinking he must have thought the newspaper was mine. The Korean gentleman bowed slightly and left. I finished reading the headlines of the newspaper and took a brief glance at the section handed to me. It was the Employment section. In a second my eyes were focus on a rather small ad by a major educational publishing house looking for test scorers. I rushed home, gathered all the required documents and made an online appointment. Two days later I was taking a lengthy test on the subject of grammar, vocabulary and expository writing. Two hours later I was hired for a two month project. I start tomorrow. Even though it is not a permanent job it is the first job in almost 6 months. I am beyond myself. MIRACLES DO HAPPEN. Fellow cowboys and cowgirls you are tops. I know your positive energy and support made a difference. DARE TO BELIEVE.

Run, Cowboy, Run

2009-03-07T20:39:00.006-06:00

It's been a hectic week for me. Going north and south, around and about this sprawled city looking for a job. I'm going for anything aside of vice or prostitution. Vice sounds nice. Well anyways, it has been a adventure going to hotels, publishing companies, bookstores, supermarkets, rodeos (Just kidding!), pizza delivery shops (I was reminded I needed a car to be able to deliver the pizzas), barista and store clerk. Pretzel, the affable dachsie, only sees me rushing in and out of the apartment. The weather is gorgeous so that helps to keep your spirits up. It feels like I have been thrust in the middle of a rush hour tornado. I've been between jobs for more than 4 months now. The pressure to succeed is so strong it almost paralyzes you. Sounds like a paradox, but it is true. You need to be the best life coach you have ever been. It's a long distance race. It reminds me a bit of The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner by Britisher Allan Sillitoe (Silly Toes I call him). This short story deals with a poor youngster who is serving time in prison school for petty theft. He is given the opportunity to enter a long distance race. If he wins then his jailers get credit for successfully "rehabilitating" a criminal. The protagonist becomes empowered as he starts running and makes a decision that will define the rest of his life. I won't ruin it for you in case you would like to read it. This is a story about dignity, inner strength and not giving in to peer pressure or false rewards. At least that is my interpretation. So, I see my present situation in a similar light. I feel like that long distance runner. There is a big amount of inner and outer pressure to succeed. But in the end I am the one person that defines success for myself. So far I am successful because I KNOW I am of value and will soon find my niche. All this unemployment and scarcity of resources shall pass. I also realize that this blog exists as a result of my need to reach out specially during my unemployment....and I met you all, followers and visitors. And got to know about your adventurous lives. What richness to feel connected to all of you from all around the world! I'm going to keep on running.

The Pink Ranch Welcomes The Pinkerton Twins

2009-03-04T13:17:00.006-06:00

Radcliffe and Heathcliff Pinkerton are identical twins born conjoined at the tongue. After a 15 minute procedure involving an unknown topical anesthesia and a rather unfit doctor they were successfully separated at age 36. As a result of this most unfortunate surgery Radcliffe and Heathcliff only speak in tandem. Well it gets a little bit more complicated than this. While Radcliffe speaks his mind in the English language, Heathcliff speaks only in Spanish. This bilingual phenomenon was first noticed by a nurse that wishes to remain anonymous. It is a bit of a challenge to fully understand what they are saying, but I must state that they are very nice people with impeccable manners and a radiant disposition. I noticed this immediately when they filled their application forms (Why do you like pink so much?, Do you enjoy your latte with a touch of cinnamon or a twist of cardamon?...and the sort). Their credit is not that good but the Ranch accepts residents no matter of their credit history. Their application was accepted yesterday at 9:00 am. So a big Texan welcome to Radcliffe and Heathcliff Pinkerton!!!

Calling Poetry Forth

2009-03-02T19:38:00.008-06:00

A Walk On The Beach, Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida (1863-1923)

This day calls for poetry. Poetry soothes our souls. I cannot stand the pessimistic mood I feel all around me. The economic mess is difficult to understand. Many people are suffering. Many more are apprehensive and afraid. My own unemployment has been the source of many frightening thoughts. I call forward the muses of poetry. I believe in the secret language of intimacy that we find in poetry. If treated with reverence poetry can reveal the innermost truth of ourselves. You can call it a kind of oracle if you like. We need our oracles. We need to talk with our ancient ones if only to make sense of this long arduous process called life. Poetry connects you with the sounds and music of our human heritage. If you cannot connect with your neighbors in this so isolated world or if your family and friends are far away, poetry will bring the warmth of their loving kindness. Mom and Dad are gone. They were my poetry because I loved them so much. I find solace in poetry. In poetry we find welcoming arms. A good poem is a sincere poem. Some are simple and other are full of tropes and highly inventive metaphors. That is just style. But the essence of the poem is to reach out to you, that you may never feel detached or lonely. A lifelong dedication to the garden of poetry will bring you the most exquisite flowers. Your life deserves flowers. Your life deserves song. Let's reconnect with the gift of poetry.

One of my most beloved poets is Antonio Machado (1875-1939). His poetry is delicate and deep. His music in verse is the glory of the Spanish language. His poems are the soul of 400 million speakers of the language of Cervantes. I am one of them. He speaks about life, the passing of time, Love and the beautiful landscape of Spain, the motherland. This is one of his most famous verse translated into English. Breathe this poetry. Your tired soul will find a resting place in these verses.

Cantares

All goes, and all remains,
but our task is to go,

to go creating roads,

roads through the sea.

My songs never chased after glory to remain in human memory.

I love the subtle worlds weightless and charming,

worlds like soap-bubbles.

I like to see them, daubed with sunlight and scarlet,

quiver, under a blue sky, suddenly and burst…I never chased glory.

Traveller, the road is only your footprint,

and no more;

traveller, there’s no road, the road is your travelling...'

Going becomes the road and if you look back you will see a path none can tread again.

Traveller, every track leaves its wake on the sea…
Once in this place where bushes now have thorns,

the sound of a poet’s cry was heard-‘Traveller there’s no road, the road is your travelling…’

Step by step, line by line…

The poet died far from home.

Shrouded by dust of a neighbouring land.

At his parting they heard him cry-‘Traveller there’s no road the road is your travelling…’

Step by step,

line by line…

When the goldfinch can’t sing,

when the poet’s a wanderer,

when nothing aids our prayer: ‘Traveller there’s no road the road is your travelling…’
Step by step,

line by line.

Greta Garbo, You Make This Pink Cowboy Blue

2009-02-27T19:46:00.011-06:00

"I can look at this face until the end of time"- TPC

I've being listening to Schumann's Romance for Violin and Piano. Yesterday, I saw the Divine Garbo in Camille. Not a small feat for my 19th Century heart. And I do have one. Oh Garbo, Garbo, what a husky sensuous accent ridden voice you had. There was a scene where she is magnificently dressed. Sparkling from head to toes, nuanced magically in black and white glory. Her hair is full of diamond five pointed stars. She is a vision to behold. I had always imagined her to be a close relative to Glinda, the good witch . Boy, did I ever wanted to do that accent. Glinda's I mean. It is so funny and lofty at the same time. It's a giggle. You see, I love accents. In fact, I have one. When I saw Penelope Cruz winning her Oscar the other night I felt validated. Her accent and mine are not that distant. Mine is not that thick, though it could be if I am aggravated or indignant. We have 5 vowel sounds in Spanish. English, on the other hand, has 4,526,231 vowel sounds. Not easy. Words like "sheet" and "peace" are a nightmare for me. They come out as something else I wish not to mention. R's are a problem too. In Spanish I roll my arse, I mean R's. But in American English words like "batteries" and "Florida" make me salivate in great profusion. After midnight, when my Spanish accent has overtaken any fluidity left in my English I sound like a sophisticated version of Sylvester, the cat. Or rather, like a drunken version of mellifluous Ricardo Montalbán (Requiescat In Pace). As I grow older I have come to love my own Spanish accent. It gives my English a melodic quality all of its own. I used to practice in front of the mirror for hours words like, well "mirror" to try to get rid of my accent. I used to imitate Tom Brokaw because I thought, good riddance!, that he had a neutral accent. One person asked me if I was a migrant worker from South Dakota. Whatever. Now, I embrace my peculiar accent with joy because it is uncommon, to a degree, and because I better do since I cannot possibly get rid of it. So, Q.E.D., me and Garbo do have something in common.

Two Awards

2009-02-27T16:44:00.010-06:00

Thank you so much Linda and Steph for giving me these two awards. I feel slightly embarrassed but very honored that people enjoy my musings and writings. I've done my best to follow the rules. I must admit it has been a little bit taxing to copy everybody's URL link into their names. Yes one of those impatient days. Again thank you so much from the bottom of my heart.

Your Blog Is Fabulous Award

YOUR BLOG IS FABULOUS AWARD from Linda at Psyche Connections . So, there are a few things you need to do after accepting this award:

1.) Post the logo on your blog.
2.) Pass it on to at least 10 of your blogger friends that you think they have a "Fabulous Blog".
3.) Please link me, The Pink Cowboy in your post.
4.) Link the awardees as well.
5.) Let your awardees know you have passed this on to them by going to their blog and leaving a comment.

HERE are my FABULOUS COWBOY AND COWGIRL AWARDEES.

1. Ngorobob House: Life From The Hill - This blog is about what many dream, living in Africa and experiencing such beauty and adventure.

2. Sweetmango This blog is a combination of deep seated spirituality and beauty. Sweetmango is a wonderful artist. Her art has the energy of Mother Earth dancing in the skies.

3. Raph's Ramblings- The best blog ever kept by giraffes.

4. Garden Mother- Her narratives are full of intelligence and insight. She has a fabulous intellect.
5. House of Turquoise- Oh that color! The color of the sea. You'll swim in this ocean of turquoise.

6. The Holiday Queen- If you want to have fun and be creative this is the blog for you. Her creations are just amazing.

7. Life at Willow Manor- Willow you probably have 15 of theses Fab award. I don't care you deserve one more. You are elegant, bright and inspiring. You are an eclectic being like me so I'm partial but I still think you are tops.

8. Heartbreak Tango- Lights, cameras, action. Visually speaking this blog is like a theatre box. You'll read posts that are both analytical and keen.

9. I live here SF- Fabulous in the making. Julie latest project spells FAB! all the way. The City (San Francisco), Is there any other? and their people.

10. Musing From the Deep- Natalie "fabulousness" stems from her deep intelligence and generous spirit. This blog challenges you to think beyond what's common and ordinary.

Best Blog Thinker Award

“This award acknowledges the values that every Blogger displays in their effort to transmit cultural, ethical, literary, and personal values with each message they write. Awards like this have been created with the intention of promoting community among Bloggers. It’s a way to show appreciation and gratitude for work that adds value to the Web.”

I got this award from Steph at The Incurable Insomniac blog. Thank you so much for thinking about me, Steph. These are my bloggers extrordinaires I have decided to pass this award on:

1. In Good Shape- A very insightful writer. Her observations about life are always revealing to say the least.

2. The Weaver of Grass a wonderful blog from Yorkshire, England. Her beautiful rural images and narratives are both vivid and endearing.

3. A Majority of Two An Intelligent, thought-provoking blog. Jo is a keen observer of life. She is a great writer even if she won't admit to it. And besides she is Canadian and I love everything about Canada.

Let's Be The Change

2009-02-24T21:36:00.005-06:00

i just saw President Obama's speech at Congress. I was very inspired to hear him talk about the importance of education in our nation. It is of utmost importance that we prepare our future generations to fully realize their potential. I was moved to tears by the schoolgirl from South Carolina that wrote to Congress to ask for help in improving the poor conditions of her own school. When the first Lady embraced that precious girl I felt the warmth and the Love. Boy, are we connected with each other more than we think! All through his speech I heard the word hope and possibility. I understand political rhetoric. I also know that we have been so accustomed to hear empty promises from phony politicians that it is difficult not to be skeptical when you hear inspiring language. But we must understand that rhetoric in itself is just a style of speech that when employed with honesty and vision can empower people to take action and improve their lives. I felt that this evening. I just love the idea of government helping those who cannot pay for college by asking them commit time and effort in helping their communities. This is the core of citizenship, giving back what you received. There is an unequivocal sense of dignity when you work hard for others. When you volunteer or work for something or someone other than yourself you make the biggest contribution. You instantly become a strong link in the chain of humanity because you both recognize the need in others and know that you are part of the solution. Feeling this connection is vital to our overall well being. I wish we finally understand that life is not about having but about being. Let's be the change we need. Let's burst the selfish bubbles that contain our fears and reach out to whomever needs us. In this spirit I'm joining in. I already feel the energy. Let's be builders of this dream.

Let Love Always Win

2009-02-23T15:49:00.008-06:00

"When I was 13 years old, my beautiful mother and my father moved me from a conservative Mormon home in San Antonio, Texas to California and I heard the story of Harvey Milk. And it gave me hope. It gave me the hope to live my life, it gave me the hope to one day live my life openly as who I am and that maybe even I could fall in love and one day get married." -- Dustin Lance Black, accepting an Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay, February 22, 2009

Movies are not just entertainment. They are constant reminders of our humanity. There are good and bad movies. But when a film transcend its entertainment value it becomes part of our collective consciousness. I am not asking people to understand the whole issue of being gay. I am asking people to acknowledge the fact that there is diversity in humanity. And this diversity should be respected and protected because it is a fundamental issue. Throughout my life I have known personally scores of individuals that have been put in the streets by their families because they were gay. Worst of all, they have been thrown out of their homes because their parents thought they were an abomination. I do not blame the parents completely. Since childhood I have heard horrific false stories involving "homosexuals", promiscuity and crime. Fear is so powerful it can make a human being kill another without any apparent reason but plain panic. I have also known a couple of persons that had attempted suicide on account of them been gay. Luckily they failed. It is a human rights issue. Even though a great deal of progress has been made we still have a long way to go. Education is the key. We must be courageous enough to defend the rights of others to be different from us. We do not need to be all same. There is beauty in diversity. Go to a garden and see the wonderful differences between flowers. It is all about Love and freedom. Love is transformation. When you Love you transform your world and yourself. Many people are scared to Love abundantly and freely.

Many people get tired or feel peeved when gay activists demand equal rights and equality in marriage publicly. Wouldn't you do the same if there were laws in your country that forbid you to commit legally to the one you Love and to hide in fear of being fired from your job because you were "different"from the rest? Of course you would take to the streets. I am grateful that we are living in a world that is, slowly but surely, advancing the cause of equality. I remember having to hide with my friends inside a car before we got inside a club for fear we would be attacked by hatemongers in the streets. It is an urgent issue that will not just go away. It is Love what we are talking about in here. It won't go away. It will return time and time again. You cannot deny its absolute power. We are creatures of Love.

I hope that people from around the world saw Sean Penn and Dustin Lance Black accept their Oscars for Milk and thought to themselves Why are there people that wish Love be limited to their own definition of it? Why are there people that think Love should be contained, caged in like a dangerous wild animal? I hope they change their minds because there is only one Earth and one Humanity. We share this gift. We must honor it by allowing freedom to Love whomever you choose. It is essential for our survival as species.

Thank you for your kind attention on this matter.

Waiting

2009-02-22T16:55:00.011-06:00

It is Sunday and I am shaking like a leaf. Time flies so fast. How do you keep your bearings when you are unemployed? Each day is like a white sheet of paper in front of a novelist with a severe case of writer's block. A hot shower and soothing music would not do. You live on cents a day. Maybe a small coffee at the gas station for $0.75. Then you realize the day is only starting for you. 18 hours to take care of. You feel jumpy and anxious. Filling job applications on line. Downgrading yourself in order to fit a minimum wage job advertisement. And yet, I have days when I am very optimistic. I must say that I am wishing for a miracle. Yes, I am THAT human, that hopeful, that unrealistic. I understand that unemployment is basically a temporary situation. I've been there before. There are people far worse than me. I am no martyr in any way or form.

I refuse to watch the news. I do not trust them any more. They are feeding our panic our heartbreak. My heart goes out to all the families that are experiencing despair in these times.

Before I go to bed I make a list of all the things I am grateful for. I figure that if I cannot come up with a least one thing I am grateful for I must be dead and buried somewhere. This was my list last night.

I am thankful for:

1. My bed, I do not have to sleep on the floor.

2. My dachsie Pretzel, he gives me unconditional Love and likes to sneak behind me a lick my ears to make me laugh.

3. My legs, I can stand up, walk and dance without having to pay a single cent.

4. My brother, he has let me in in his apartment.

5. This blog, I never felt so connected to people around the world, it's a sheer joy to me.

6. My books, I can go to places where treasures are hidden and where characters welcome you like a long lost friend.

7. My eyes, I can see colors, patterns, textures, speed, radiance, trees, flowers, people's faces.

8. My teachers, old, young, American, Tibetan, Spanish, French, Committed, Mystical, Empowering, Enthusiastic, Wise, Courageous.

9. Friendship- I have longtime friends and friends that I have never seen. So nurturing and kind.

10. Love, so much out there and in here. Love is THE ADVENTURE, THE REWARD, THE PURPOSE.

photo by petit hiboux at Flikr.

Trivialities for the Homegrown Intellectual to Be

2009-02-20T17:14:00.008-06:00

I dreamt last night I went into the Cash Cab and flunked all the questions and was left out in the pouring rain near Grand Central Station in NYC without any money. I was somehow reprimanded for not "knowing." This is the age of trivia glorification. From the images and sounds I get on TV and Film I can easily deduct that knowing useless information is very useful in your way to become rich and prosperous. I wonder how many times I got the job or the date because I could entertain using the accumulation of useless facts I have gathered all through my life. I remember memorizing all the names of the countries of the world and their respective capitals in sixth grade. I also remembered my dad parading me through the neighborhood and daring the reluctant neighbors to ask me the name of any capital. I felt very embarrassed but I didn't want to let my dad down. So I answered diligently. The Academy Awards will be given out on Sunday and one of the favorites to win Best Picture is not other than a movie that deals with this fascination we share about trivia, Slumdog Millionaire. So, knowing trivia has become a sort of zeitgeist in our society. I'm most likely generalizing. Trivia is not always trivial. Knowing the capitals of the countries of the world is rather important if you are to follow world politics and/or history. You need to know them for reference. Your mind needs memory landmarks to navigate the endless sea of information. Because we live at a time where information is so massive and pervasive it can also be a very confusing time to sort out what is important and what is not. We need to be editors of that information in order to handle it intelligently. I think our brains are being developed in new ways. Our inner wiring is being redesigned as a reaction to this information overload. Don't take me wrong, it is fascinating to be exposed to such diversity of knowledge and to be an active participant in this instant linking of thoughts and perspectives (Blogging being one good example). So my mind is diversifying at a fast rate. Specializing in subject matters I didn't even know existed five years ago. Maybe what we call trivia today is but a mind enabler, a touchstone for future discovery and understanding. So I must keep up, I do not want to be left behind. But I must do it at my own pace. I will not succumb to the pressure that I must know everything that is happening right now. I'm not getting into that Cash Cab only to be left out in the rain for not having the perfect answer. I'm taking the Orient Express. Elegance over speed. Beauty over chaos. Delight over stress.

Moving About

2009-02-16T15:12:00.008-06:00

If you are what you eat then I must be a pizza. We are moving to a new apartment to the north of the city. As you might expect there is a lot of coming and going. Grabbing something to eat on the run has become routine. We've been lifting, wrapping, unwrapping, pushing and sliding. Poor Pretzel, he feels so unsettled. He's been howling like the wind all day long. I had to have a straight man to dog talk with him. It is often unsettling to move to a new place. I am a bit of a gypsy so I'm use to it. In fact, I've moved more that 18 times through my life. Lately my desire to settle down is much stronger. From the balmy Caribbean to the barren winter cold of central Maine, I've lived in many different climates. I read on the World Almanac that about 20% of American are on the move, so to speak, every year. I think that's a very high number of people. That would be around 40 million people changing homes any given year. We are a very mobile society. On one hand is can frustrating and sad to leave friends and family behind but on the other we are being exposed to different people a different lifestyles like never before in our history. I have a little trick to feel comfortable once you have reached your new location. Go tree hunting. By this I mean to go out for a walk in search of trees you could befriend. I adore trees and the more I feel surrounded by them the safer I feel. Sometimes I think I must have been a druid in ancient times. I feel a sense of deep reverence for trees, specially old ones. Forests become cathedrals in my mind, true places of worship. Trees symbolize ancestry, roots. Trees make me feel like I belong. This very morning I took a long walk to find my trees. I saw a couple of them with high possibilities of becoming gorgeous specimens once the Spring arrives. As I travel around and move from place to place it is very reassuring to know beautiful and majestic trees are about to be met and make me feel welcome everywhere.

There Is Always a First Time...

2009-02-10T00:52:00.007-06:00

First Movie I saw In A Cinema: Batman (1966)

First Record I Ever Bought: Chicago XII (1977), it had Baby What A Big Surprise which I loved.

First Airflight I Ever Took: San Juan, PR to Caneel Bay, St. John, USVI (1965)

First Book Without Pictures I Ever Bought: Jaws (1974)

First Car: Ford Fairmont (1979)

First Crush: Peter Tork from The Monkees or was it Astroboy? I was 4 years old.

First Oscar: Ok, I'm kidding.

First Time I Had Coffee: 7 or 8 months old. My mother made us one shot lattes for our baby bottles...Really! I'm Latin it is cultural. We call it Café con leche.

First Job: Store Clerk at my Dad's Gift Shop/Armory Store. Mom liked porcelain figurines. Dad loved guns, he was a skeet champion. They reached a compromise. The weirdest concept for a store. The store didn't last that long. It had an iron cage in the middle where the guns, rifles, pistols and revolvers would be displayed.

First "real" Job- Translator at the Department of Education in Puerto Rico.

First Time Ever I Saw Your Face- Roberta Flack

First Time I Ate Frog- Montreal 1982, it tasted like chicken.

First Time I Realized The World Wasn't In Black and White Before I Was Born: July 1968

First Visit To The Confessionary At My Local Church- I was 7 years old, I didn't understand the whole concept of sin. I though I didn't have any. I shared this thought with my teachers. They told me that it was impossible, that everybody sins. Even saints sin, they told me, seven times a day (damn saints!) So I made up a few sins before I went to see the priest. At an early age I felt the need to keep up apereances and portray myself as a sinner.

First Existential Question Ever- I was 6 years old and was playing with my neighbors. We were pretending we were Romans and we were fighting the Vikings. Everybody was assigned a military position. They forgot about me. I got angry and yelled: "Who am I?, Who am I?"

First Time I Learned About Sex- I was 9 years old. My mom bought this book that explained how babies were created. I didn't believe it for a second. It didn't make any sense to me. As far as I knew you ordered a baby on the phone. Then when it was ready a nurse would call you up to pick the baby.

Phot of the number one by horizontal.integration from Flikr.

2009-02-10T00:33:00.005-06:00

Is it me or has anyone noticed that in the box where all the followers have their little heads compartmentalized there is a sign that states: STOP FOLLOWING? It took me three weeks to figure it out. I thought I was among the group of blog stalkers the blogger wanted out of sight. Did I say something offensive? Did I lack the professional requirements needed to visit this site? I swear I was shocked the first time I saw the sign.

The Delicacy of Chinese Poetry

2009-02-09T20:04:00.016-06:00

The delicacy of Chinese poetry is a bit hard to translate into Western languages such as English. The written Chinese system is composed of pictograms or written symbols that can convey all by themselves an object or an abstract idea. Not only do you read the sound of a word but also capture the visual cultural symbol as interpreted by traditional calligraphy. Chinese poetry is exquisite in the sense that it can draw beautiful images in your mind. Chinese poetry is evocative and serene. It is important to try different translators. In Chinese poetry the translator becomes a distant co-poet. His translation must be based on his or her knowledge of Chinese culture and history. Even if you cannot read classical Chinese to decipher this amazing poetry you could trust a good or renown translator to direct you, like a good field guide, into the depths of one of the oldest poetry known to man.

This is my little attempt to enjoy Chinese poetry fully using a little bit of my imagination. I've accompanied each verse of the poem Seeing a Friend Off by Li Bai, 701-762 (Translated by Tony Barnstone and Chou Ping) using images we recognize instantly like I think Chinese readers do when they see Chinese characters. Of course I do not know what they actually see in these symbols beyond their meaning but I suspect they see a beautiful and profound mindscape.

Blue mountains past the north wall,

white water snaking eastward.

Here we say good-bye for the last time.

You will fade like a hayseed blowing ten thousand miles away.

Floating clouds are the way of the wanderer.

The sun sets like the hearts of old friends.

We wave good-bye as you leave. Horses neigh and neigh.

Grainy Photo Tells The Whole Picture

2009-02-08T21:56:00.007-06:00

This is little me. Perhaps at 18 months. It was shot on Lucchetti Street in Condado, Puerto Rico in the early 60's. A few steps from the blue Atlantic waters of Puerto Rico's north coast. The photo was probably taken by Mami (Mom). She loved cameras, specially Super 8 video cameras. Not many of the Super 8 film have survived the ravages of the high humidity of the tropics. There are about 5 or 6 cans I gave to my sister previous to me moving to Texas. It will probably be too costly to have the film digitalized. So maybe one day I'll find someone that will do the job without charging me to much. I have many pictures of the family with me. I did not want to loose them. They are my ties with the past. These pictures have gone through 3 major hurricanes, floods and at least 10 or 11 relocations. They've been to New England, Florida and to Texas. They are bittersweet. They are part of my history. Now my mother is gone, I am an adult orphan so to speak. These pictures, about 500 of them are my life line in these days battling depression. This photo in particular reminds me that I was a little child once, that all I cared about was being loved. Mine was a tight family. I grew up with an extended family of nearly 20 people. Grandparents, uncles, first cousins. Our family gathering seemed so big, so happy, so joyful. I miss these times miserably. All of my elders have passed away. The loss of Mami last March has been the hardest thing I have gone through. I'm doing my very best to move on. I never thought It would hit me so hard. Each day is a challenge without her presence and constant advice. I do feel a part of me died with her. We were the closest of friends. I lived with her most of my adult life. I only moved out of her apartment 2 years before she died. I want it to try total independence at 44, if you can believe that. Boy, do I wish to hold her right now and tell her how much I loved her and how much she meant in my life. I'm content in the fact that our love was expressed on a daily basis. I'm lucky in that. I love life and people, I want to get back to do the things I always wanted to do. I feel regret that she will not be there with me to share my future. I know it is the rule of life that your mother dies before you do. I guess I'm just going through the mourning period. Most days I'm OK, I survive. But other days I'm shocked that I cannot phone her or visit her at her apartment anymore. As much as I try to be philosophical about this matter I cannot do it. I miss her terribly. This photo also reminds me that I was brought up by two very caring parents and four devoted grandparents. This photo shows the very first time I learned how to walk. Ironically, I'm learning to walk again on my own after this great loss.

It's All About Love

2009-02-06T22:51:00.003-06:00

"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

From couragecampaign.org/divorce
"Ken Starr, who led the campaign to impeach President Bill Clinton, filed a legal brief last month -- on behalf of the "Yes on 8" campaign -- that would forcibly divorce 18,000 same-sex couples that were married in California last year before the passage of Prop 8."

I believe that Love is the highest truth.

Nobody should be denied the right to commit publicly and legally to this principle.

Diversity is part of the human race, to deny this principle is to deny our humanity.

Please watch this video, it's about Love and Truth.

N is for Nincompoop

2009-02-05T17:33:00.017-06:00

I've been tagged by Life at Willow Manor to select a letter from the alphabet and write about it. I wanted to write about my beloved Spanish letter Ñ, but this blog is in English. So N will do, besides N is a wonderful letter specially when written the wrong way by children.
The letter N is the 14th letter of the English alphabet. It is believed to have developed from a snake hieroglyphic used by the Egyptians. Not long afterwards the Phoenicians adopted the letter into their alphabet. The Hebrews and the Greek followed suit. N represents the alveolar nasal sound in human speech. Only a handful of languages on earth lack this sound. It is the perfect letter to take to the Nth degree, obviously:

Nincompoop- a silly, foolish and useless person.

Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Them Goodbye- According to Wikipedia is a song that is often chanted by fans near the end of a contest to signify that victory is all but assured.
Nitroglycerin- a colorless, oily, explosive liquid.
Navratilova- Last name of a famous woman tennis player.
Nanotechnology- According to many the longest word starting with N.
Na Nu Na Nu- Alien greeting (Mork & Mindy TV series)

N in sign language

Nantucket

Narnia

the Nanny

Walking in the West End

2009-02-04T23:50:00.011-06:00

The other day I took to the streets of Dallas to stroll down the so named West End and take a couple of photos with a camera I borrowed from my sister. It all looked clean and organized but lacked one substantial element, a soul. As I walked the barren sidewalks nothing was out of place, no difference from one store to the other. Trendy restaurants all look the same resulting in a rather confusing kind of boredom. This district was renovated and then gentrified in quick succession. Diversity and character gave way to an architectural conformity that tires the eyes and fatigues the urban dweller spirit. It is in the heart of the Metroplex, a urban conundrum of 6.1 million people living in area of 9,200 sq.mi.(About the area of Connecticut and Rhode Island combined!) It was designed for cars not people. As a pedestrian I am considered to be a pariah in this city. That in itself is a disgrace for the main purpose of humans getting "civilized" and constructing cities is to meet at a common ground where ideas, innovations and diversity contribute to the well being of all citizens. When an urban area is as physically disconnected as that of Dallas-Ft. Worth all sense of belonging to a greater community disappears. I have nothing against urban renewal, in most cases is necessary for a city to improve its infrastructure and to re colonize old and historical abandoned districts. But it must be done with care and responsibility.

Before the new buildings, even sidewalks and antique gaslight come up the neighborhood should constitute a cohesive community. It is not just about looking historical or in the case of the West End, pseudo historical but it must be alive with real people. The city as an entity should be a crucible where diverse ideas get mixed and synthesised. The purpose of the city is to be a universal translator of ideas to all of its citizens.

I do not care for Utopian models for urban planning, if anything they are just pretentious and snobbish. We need our friendly streets back, our human scale living, our colorful neighborhoods.

I love seeing different architectural styles mingling together and having a fluid conversation with shoppers, tourists and passersby.

I like a real city to live in, one that's not ashamed of its old buildings or low middle class neighborhoods. In my mind gentrification is annihilation. You do not upgrade buildings to look like Neo Victorian townhouses for the affluent by depopulating them of the working class original dwellers. Communities are being destroyed this way.

I liked this pub standing silently and alone in one corner of the district.

Wabi sabi: Simple and Profound

2009-02-02T18:03:00.007-06:00

Sustaining the feeling of intimacy and compassion amidst an imperfect, incomplete and impermanent universe has been the aesthetic goal of Wabi sabi objects. They are simple, rustic and often asymmetrical. Their beauty lies in the realization that nothing ever stays the same. A bright bouquet of flowers that was given to a loved one will soon become withered and unappreciated; the old stepping stones near the pond that you used to skip when you were a child are now chipped beyond recognition, dusty and old. Such is the feeling of Wabi sabi. It does not intend to be nostalgic, it is a simple reminder that all shall pass. All shall be transformed by time. For me is an appreciation of the moment. A deep sense of serenity permeates all Wabi sabi objects. It is like meeting an old sage in the woods, in the beach or in a lonely mountain trail.

Humble art suspended in time, slowly aging, slowly living...slowly dying.

It is us we see in these objects.

Note: Dry leaves by imagetaker!, metallic surface by gdnarch both in Flickr.

Things I Rather Watch

2009-02-01T20:35:00.005-06:00

For me it's very easy, without any reservations that I must confess that I hate anything associated with the Superbowl. I know I might sound opinionated but I could never understand football. And God knows I tried. I remember buying season tickets to see the Orangemen play at the Carrier Dome in Syracuse. After three games I gave my tickets away to a friend. I just don't get it. All through the years I have asked friends what is it that they like about the sport. All I hear is mumbles, something like the classroom teacher in Peanuts. I think is the slowest most boring game ever developed in the history of mankind. Curling comes a close second. So I went to the movies to see Daniel Craig's piercing blue eyes, I mean his latest movie Defiance. The movie is based on the true story of a group of Jewish refugees living in the woods of Nazi occupied Belarus during World War II. Is not a bad movie. The dialogue is a little bit tiresome because everybody is speaking English with fake Russian accents. But going back to those eyes. I am mesmerized my Daniel Craig' eyes, but that's another post. So If you like to watch Daniel's eyes for two hours this is the film for you. Monday shall be a more exciting day, I hope.

Films I Love: Rear Window (1954)

2009-01-31T19:46:00.010-06:00

Spying on your neighbors becomes an art form in this classic film directed by the legendary master of suspense Alfred Hitchcock. Without giving out too much of the plot the film deals with the suspicion of a wheelchair bound photographer that a murder has been committed in his neighborhood. He has the vantage point of the view from a rear window in his apartment. He can see clearly a collection of city characters that come and go about their lives. But his roving eye catches some funny business going on in one of the apartments. He shares this with his upper crust fiancee Grace Kelly and his nurse Thelma Ritter and all three become involved in trying to solve the crime. What follows is a superb sequence of twists and turns that keep you fixed on the screen for the whole duration of the film. 55 years after this film made its debut critics still consider it to be one of the best suspense thrillers ever made.

I will add that this film is still relevant today. An underlying theme dealing with the loneliness and isolation experienced by many in a big city environment is very apparent. Without realizing it we live in a society that glorifies voyeurism in the forms of reality shows, youtube confessions and celebrity gossip. We all have rear windows where we can spy on people and pass judgement on them. But above all it is a very entertaining intelligent film, it plays beautifully against your sense of expectation, seamless from beginning to end, like a good crime story should be!

I'm staying on the Pink Motel tonight

2009-01-30T20:17:00.004-06:00

Thank you all for your great support. I've managed to calm my nerves since. Not easy. My whole blog life vanished for 25 minutes before my eyes. It was through divine intervention that I could recover my blog. It seemed so easy to do. I visited four different websites on the matter. They all said it was sooooo simple. Right!!!! I carefully selected a beautiful vintage seamless pattern, it was going to be a quantum leap forward for my blog. It would look like a textured brocade reminiscent of old Victorian manors. All they said was- "Go to your Edit HTML tab, look for the word "body" and copy the web address inside brackets." Oh, I was so confident, My blog is gonna look purrtty, I reckon!!! I see so many beautifully designed blogs out there, you can smell the fresh lavender and get partially blinded by their evocative mist. But now I've been challenged, now I do declare I'm going to learn how to do it if it kills me. I'm ambitious in that very small way. I like the idea of creating a dummyblog, I shall call it The Maladroit Review, I also plan to have a header where the cowboy falls from the horse in slow motion amidst pink fireworks in the background, I swear I might do it. So tonight I'm staying outside the Rancho and into the Pink Motel if only to escape all the turmoil I have inflicted on my festive permanent residents. I must add, I had a nightmare last night where I met an unfriendly crowd in a honky tonk saloon. They all yelled-"Edit HTML" in unison. More chocolate, please!

Baggy Britches, the .22 caliber long rifle carrying clown reminds you: "Never give up!!!

OMG! I Almost Erased My Whole Blog Kind Of Day.

2009-01-29T21:41:00.005-06:00

Could anybody out there direct me to a good idiot-proof guide to changing your blog background and header? I was trying to add texture and design to this my most beloved blog. I tried to do it using the Edit HTML tab, then I erased everything. After 40 minutes of pure agony I managed to retrieve a saved template. I almost ate a whole box of chocolate to deal with the anxiety attack. I manage my nerves using chocolate. So, beloved followers and visitors, would you be darlings and help this poor soul?

PS. Thank You Lucy for being there for me.

Icy Day in the Big D

2009-01-28T15:22:00.009-06:00

Bad Ice!Good Ice!

All I see around me is ice, ice and more ice. How do I long for my tropical paradise in the Caribbean. I'm trapped in my little apartment for fear I will slip and fall out there. So what is a pink cowboy to do under these dire circumstances? Break into song, of course!!!

It's...Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Even though the sound of it
Is something quite atrocious
If you say it loud enough
You'll always sound precocious,
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

I can listen to the birds chirping right now. It's one of those days at the Old Pink Rancho. Permanent residents, Miss Fanny Louette refuses to sing a long, and Father Mackenzie is drunk as a skunk. The coyotes are bored and taciturn Sheriff Lubbock is on his way to bed.

But tomorrow, as well put by Miss O'Hara, is another day.

Art History Series: The Vienna Secession

2009-01-27T12:41:00.011-06:00

Water Snakes II (1904-1907)- Gustav Klimt

This movement started in 1897 following the protest of several young artists in Vienna that wanted to break away from the rigidity of the Academic style preponderant in Europe. Gustav Klimt was his most famous and prolific adherent. Their design aesthetic was always looking for freedom and expression. The style is highly decorative, it always experiments with color, graphics, curves and exoticism. At the time it was interpreted as very iconoclastic and decadent. It follows the credo of the Art Nouveau in all manifestations. This search for a new aesthetic produced works of art that are both sumptuous and resplendent. Other members of this group were Koloman Moser in design and Joseph Maria Olbrich in architecture.

Do The Shuffle.

2009-01-25T19:20:00.007-06:00

It was a pleasant and multicultural Sunday at the Pink Ranch. I put my ipod on shuffle mode. A rather amusing selection came on. The Beatles followed by African Pop Music followed by Patsy Cline singing I Fall to Pieces. After 20 or so minutes I forgot about the ipod and thought I was listening to the radio. “What a great radio station, one good song after another”- said I. Then I realized it was my own ipod. I could be absentminded like that. I know the year of the Battle of Hastings (1066) but I do not know where I put the car keys. I should stop using so much Splenda. Someone told me it affects your memory. I remembered just now when I worked as a teacher. An early October morning I asked my students what day was America discovered. One kid shrugged his shoulders and said- “Tuesday?” I didn’t know if to cry or laugh. I looked at him sternly and said -“No, it was a Thursday.” Nobody got my joke. I digress. So anyways, I was in a shuffle mood. Then the great Celia Cruz from Cuba came on. I had to stand up and wiggle my body a little bit. There is something with us Caribbean people when we hear Salsa or Merengue music. We are possessed. You cannot control the paroxysms going about in your entire body. The rhythm overtakes you and you need to start moving. I’ve seen complete strangers in places like malls, public parks, schools and groceries stores start dancing as soon as Latin music starts playing. The transformation was amazing. I became a slave to the rhythm. I was by myself in the apartment so I had no qualms whatsoever about dancing a little bit. Here are the songs that came on my ipod in succession and the mood they “provoked on me.”

Trickle Trickle- Manhattan Transfer SASSY
I Will Survive- Gloria Gaynor DEFIANT
Lucille- Kenny Rogers LANGUID
Surf City- Jan and Dean CAWABANGUISH
Bad Connection- Yaz (Yazoo in the UK) ELECTRIC
Chinese Kung Fu- Banzai CORNY
I Have A Dream- ABBA ANGELIC
My Boyfriend’s Back- The Shirells SILLY
Don’t Let The Rain Come Down- The Serendipity Singers. BACK-IN-SUNDAY-SCHOOL-ISH
Hot Tamale Baby- Buckwheat Zydeco LAISSEZ-LE-BON-TEMPS-ROULEZ-Y

So, What’s in your Ipods cowboys and cowgirls?

Superior Scribbler Award. Who, me?

2009-01-24T17:49:00.012-06:00

I was very surprised to be given the Superior Scribbler Award from larkspur of the Garden Mother blog. The award originated, as many of you already know, in the Scholastic-scribe blog. I felt truly elated. English is not my first language. I really started to speak English on a daily basis at age 17. So I was thrilled to be recognized with such a bloggy distinction. I started blogging last September and it has been very rewarding. I now connect with wonderful people all over the world on a daily basis. My mindgate is now open. My writing is becoming more adventurous. But above all, I enjoy reading your comments. You are all very gracious and very supportive.

It is truly a bloggy community. Thanks.

I must now follow the rules given after accepting this distinction. I must post the rules pertaining the award and offer it to 5 blogs I find particularly interesting and wonderful. There are many fantastic blogs that I read on a daily basis that have gotten the award already. So I am passing on the award to much better scribblers than me that deserve the recognition. If you guys accept the award you must follow the rules and show the award in your blog page. I hereby present the award to:

Oasis Writing Link- Cynthia is such a generous spirit. Her house up in the mountains of central Puerto Rico offers the unique backdrop of a rain forest. Her memories of childhood in Michigan are full of insight. Her love for Caribbean literature is evident as she is making many contributions to the field as a university professor.

sweetmango- She has a superb picture as a blog header: powerful and vibrant. When you visit this blog you feel connected very fast, your spirit soars. I gather that she is very committed to living responsibly in this one planet we all share. I feel sheltered when I go there.

M.IV- Clay is an artist in the full sense of the word. His graphic acumen is palpable from your very first visit to the blog. He is a raconteur. He knows how to tell a good story. I revel in his art. I keep coming back every day.

Ngorobob House: Life from the Hill- From what I read in this post I can conclude that Janelle is an indomitable and adventurous spirit. She lives in Tanzania, under African skies every day. What good fortune.

Bachelor at Wellington- I like this classy blogger. You can perceive a rare and peaceful inner sensibility in his writings. He would definitely be a great guy to have tea with and a great conversation on art, film and music.

RULES:

You must pass along this award to five (5) others who I have found to be thoughtful, creative, and most importantly, entertaining. ;

1. Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends. 2. Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.

3. Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to Scholastic-Scribe, which explains The Award.

4. Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we’ll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receive

this Prestigious Honor.

5. Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

The Lively Geography of Being

2009-01-23T19:51:00.011-06:00

I have been drawing maps of imaginary lands since I was 10 or 11 years old. These drawings are my most intimate doodles. When I feel like relaxing (Every 10 minutes these days), I put some nice mellow New Age music like Enya and go for my sketchbook and black ink pen. I am not a trained artist. I have no technique whatsoever but the enjoyment I get from doodling maps is enough reward. To truly enjoy this little known art form you must get acquainted with the emotional vocabulary of geography. So follow me on this little trek:

Islands are both relaxing and restorative, you need them to heal and to re-charge your batteries. Rivers are streams of joy and sorrow flowing freely to the calming sea. Coves are intimate like candlelight, misty afternoons and very old books. Peninsulas are always extending their mossy green arms into reconciliation and new opportunities. Mountains are your ideals, compasses for the heart. Meadows and swamps offer their insights on the trappings of the human mind. A careful constructed network of roads will make all the different areas of your map feel connected. I then name the towns and cities with words that sound both remote and earthy. It is then when the finished map becomes a realization. I wish you all many, many happy islands.

Academy Awards Nominations

2009-01-22T23:04:00.012-06:00

The nominations were announced this morning. I totally forgot about them as I am currently suffering from a splendid case of Obamitis. I was very excited to hear Sean Penn was nominated for Best Actor in Milk. This movie spoke to my heart and his performance kept me spellbound. His transformation was incredible. I am always hear negative commentaries about actors. We constantly hear about their delusional lifestyles and their egocentricity. We all know that Tinseltown thrives on gossip and excess. Well, in many cases that might be true but the magic of a movie changing or at least exposing yourself to a different perspective of life is priceless. So I hope these 8 nominations for Milk (among them Best Movie, Best Director and Best Actor) get people to the movie theatres. Heath Ledger, as expected, was nominated posthumously for his performance as the Joker in The Dark Knight, it was a scary performance different from over the top Cesar Romero and crafty Jack Nicholson. And then there is that radiant lady Kate Winslet with a powerful performance in The Reader. I have fallen in love with her acting and general demeanor ever since Heavenly Creatures (1994), I hope she wins. I still haven't seen Slumdog Millionaire or Frost/Nixon so I still haven't made up my mind about Best Picture.

One more thing, I think is a bit silly and incoherent to have actors compete for an award (how can you truly compare their performances if they are playing different roles!!!). But I must add that the Academy Awards are most of all a recognition of excellence in the field.

Everything is Coming Up Noses

2009-01-21T20:28:00.006-06:00

Three days ago I went into a local deli to have a sandwich. Quite ordinary. But I had stayed in my apartment for three day so I was more than thrilled to see so many people at once. I was about to start singing “People…, people who need people…” when my number was called up. It was number 433 if you’re interested in that kind of thing. I couldn't help but notice that the very affable guy who gave me my pastrami on rye sandwich had an extraordinary nose. It was very large and looked perfectly fine for his face. It made me think about noses in general. For some strange reason I can never distinguish between a Roman and a Greek nose. So as soon as I got home I did a little research on the Internet. The Greek nose is straight and the Roman nose looks like a hook. Then I stumbled upon a PDF of an early 20th century books that not only classifies types of noses but also gives you a psychological profile of its owner. So I learned about the Celestial nose (concave) and the Snub nose (short). The first belongs to the inquisitive and the latter to the mischievous. Total poppycock (I finally got a chance to write that funny word!), but entertaining poppycock (I did it again!) at that. I also got some literary information about the subject. There is a character in Laurence Stern’s Tristam Shandy who owned a personal library that included all the books that have been written on the subject of noses. I do not claim to have a literary nose. In fact I realized I am the proud owner of a hybrid nose. Not the green kind that runs on ethanol but a straight one that turns up slightly at the tip. That would make me an impertinent cheerful outgoing introspective man. Such are the revelations of my nose. So I very humbly ask my fellow bloggers: What type of nose do you own?

Days of Hope and Virtue

2009-01-20T11:49:00.015-06:00

It was a truly inspiring day. As I saw the great display of humanity between the Washington Obelisk and the Capitol, I imagined a great house welcoming all to share the same table. I felt very humble for the gifts I have received as a citizen of this great nation. I couldn't help but to shed a tear when in the midst of all the fanfare and protocol a brilliant quartet made of such luminaries as Yo Yo Ma, Itzak Perlman and Gabriela Montero performed the John Williams' evocative piece with the famous Copland refrains. I felt the dignity of freedom. Such are the times.

I have included the last paragraphs of President Obama's Inaugural speech as a reminder that we all posses the courage and commitment to construct a new society. This is a solemn day, full of promises and high hopes.

"...This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed — why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall, and why a man whose father less than sixty years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.
So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:
"Let it be told to the future world ... that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive...that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet (it)."
America, in the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations."

photos from top to bottom by: set, Miguel Valle Figuereido and il foto grafico.

Wishes for the Inauguration.

2009-01-18T19:36:00.009-06:00

Like millions, I'll be watching the Inauguration Ceremonies on Tuesday. I wish we can really come into a new era where people dare to believe and start anew. I can visualize all our ancestors coming together for this historic occasion. Their hard labors were not in vain. I wish for a sense of community and citizenship where all Americans are treated with respect and equality. I want to give myself permission to hope, big time. It is so easy to be cynical these days. Too easy to tell you the truth. Let's be rebels and reject cynicism. Let's get together.

Centered in Uncertainty

2009-01-17T18:14:00.004-06:00

I was feeling a bit anxious today. When you are unemployed you live in a different time zone. Life little structures and routines are all gone. You are on your own and you must keep yourself centered (... if not entertained) in order to maintain your sanity. I must say that I do have the support of friends and family. I do not feel isolated but I could very easily fall into that trap on account that I am living in a different time sequence from the rest. This afternoon I took a long walk with Pretzel, my dachsie, and thought about my anxiety. At this very moment there is nothing I can do but to calm my nerves. And that I intend to do. It is not easy at all because I do have goals and dreams I want to fulfill and I do not want to postpone them indefinitely. So calming down is priority number one. In times like these I draw from my spiritual experiences and realizations. I am a spiritual mutt if there is ever one. I was raised by deeply religious Catholic grandparents, an atheist dad and a non practicing Catholic mother. I went to Catholic school all my life. Then I got into the New Age movement of the 80’s. In the early 90’s I went back to Catholicism (I realized later that it was a hunger for cultural identity rather than true conviction) and then into Tibetan Buddhism, only to be a free spiritual agent today. Excuse me, but I must laugh at myself if only tenderly. All these religious and philosophical disciplines have helped construct what I am today and I am grateful. Today I felt I had to have a serious talk with myself and establish a set of principles that would make my life easier and more enjoyable. To understand that there is no hurry in life, that I have nothing to prove, that it is reasonable to still cry everyday over the death of my mother 8 months ago, that it’s okay to have blind faith in finding appropriate employment, that it’s okay to keep dreaming of a better life. I have been reading a beautiful book by Marianne Williamson that has inspired me lately to ask for miracles in my life. And that I am doing today, surrendering to a higher energy capable of restoring my vitality. In the meantime more tea, more books and more cookies! I am grateful to all the visitors I have had recently, you keep my spirits up.

Dr. Martin Luther King- Peace Warrior

2009-01-16T19:35:00.003-06:00

The Pink Ranch celebrates MLK vision and courage. His life has been an example in commitment and love. There is no justice without equality. There is no true freedom without equality.

"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character. "

MLK

Famous Asmathics in the History of the World

2009-01-16T16:53:00.005-06:00

Bronchius Dilatatus, Roman wheezer of note.

Amusing ideas have been percolating inside my brain for the past days. It may well be an increase of my consumption of coffee. That or new medicines for my asthma. I felt I had to dignify this condition by looking up for extraordinary asthmatics past and present. They were not extraordinary in their asthma but in the pursuit of their great talent and genius. Of course that is our only common ground. I cannot possibly compare myself to these giants:

Charles Dickens (1812-1870)

Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919)

Billy Joel (1949- )

Marcel Poust (1871-1922)

Edith Wharton (1862-1937)

So may their cacophonous wheezing and stridor be a lesson to all. We of the short breathing kind shall overcome. I raise my Advair Purple Diskus to you!!!!

TPC- Q&A Interview by Oasis Writing Link

2009-01-13T18:32:00.016-06:00

I was contacted by Oasis Writing Link to be interviewed as a blogger. Faced with these very interesting questions I decided to borrow my brother’s car and head to the placid whereabouts of the newly opened Valley Ranch library in Irving. There I stood in front of a big picture window facing a canal lined up with little houses screaming “this is a Kodak moment.” I ignored the visual intrusion and proceeded to answer the questions.

1. If you could be a historical character from actual life or from a book, who would you be and why? What would you do as this person?

This one was a difficult one to answer. My mind began spinning like a Ghandian charka weaving an endless homespun garment. I thought of giants like Martin Luther King, Harvey Milk, Abraham Lincoln,the Buddha, Christ, Dame Judi Dench (OK, OK, I had to mention her, she is so good!!!). I admire many different people in history for their sacrifice and heroism but one rather little character came running back to me every time I pursued and answer: Frodo, the hobbit from J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings Trilogy. He was not fearless; he did not possess the physical prowess to endure such gargantuan travail as to destroy evil in the form of monsters, sorcerers and deceitful creatures (Not that different from our normal mortal lives.) Yet his love, tenacity and sense of duty made him a transcendental figure in his world. If I had his committed faith and determination I would champion the fight against injustice and inequality.

2. What is the most important decision you've made in your life and why?

I did not know it at the time but the most significant decision I have ever made was to go to college in upstate New York. It literally opened my eyes. I not only developed intellectually but also was exposed to different people from all over the world. My insatiable quest for knowledge and understanding began right there in the inclement winter weather of Syracuse. I remember one very cold December evening in Neo-Romanesque Crouse College Auditorium. I went to see I Musici perform The Four Seasons by Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741). I had a mystical experience then. I saw the banquet of life unfold itself before my eyes. I found my sun far away from the tropics where I was born. I found my sun in the winter of a northern latitude and it has been a wondrous journey ever since...

3. Select two photographs that have made a significant impact on you and explain what their importance is in your life.

Martha Graham: Letter to the World (Kick), 1940

Barbara Morgan, photographer

Dance is the transformation of the human form into the plausible. In this photo Martha Graham exemplify such notion. She becomes a half-moon, an unfolding white rosebud, an avatar of human motion, a determined love arrow thrown by a forceful and intrepid cupid.

Bathing Suits for Izod,

George Hoyningen-Huene, photographer

An understated elegance in a heroic pose. Looking beyond the context of their own time and place into the vast unknown. Adam and Eve full of expectation and desire, happy to be out of that drab and boring Eden.

4. You have lived in at least two different cultures; explain how this experience influences how you see the world, both personally and politically?

I am a Blue-eyed Caribbean Latin American of European ancestry who is a citizen of the United States of America. At home in Puerto Rico I was considered a blanquito or americanito (white or American- like boy) a totally different species from the rest. Back in college I was regarded as a foreigner. So I suppose I always felt like an outsider; more romantically put, an émigré. A person that does not belongs fully anywhere. I had the rare opportunity to go inside both cultures because at the end of the day I could pass for either nationality. That made me notice and contrast both cultures. We are not that different at all. Right now I feel very comfortable with my background, in fact I think is an asset to be multicultural.

5. A hundred (plus) years from now, someone finds something of significance that you left behind. What is it and why is it significant?

I hope that anything I did, said, or depicted in music and photography moved anyone to embrace the reality that Love is our true nature.

Photography: HDR

2009-01-11T23:26:00.009-06:00

These are HDR photos. HDR stand for High Dynamic Range Imagery. I have read the technical definition of the term and is a little bit complicated for me to understand it. This type of photography allows for a more luminous intensity using both photographic and software programs techniques. One thing I know is that these type of images are so dreamy and beautiful when done correctly that I instantly go in a trip. I have become an eager enthusiast and wishing to learn more and more. The old abandoned house seems to me to be out of a Harry Potter movie, the lime green lighthouse reminds me of a mini golf course, and the profusion of roses the very field where Dorothy (of Oz fame) was sent a spell from the Bad Witch of the West and fell asleep.

My extremely modest photographic ambitions have been put into a halt. All my life lies inside twelve boxes, including my camera, Photoshop discs and photo collection, and since I am living with my brother at the time I should not abuse of his hospitality by setting up my "photo lab" in the middle of the living room...sigh.... But soon enough I'll be riding the photographic Pegasus into lands and places unknown...of course I will share with you all bloggies.

PS- These photos come from the site stock.xchng.com. The one with the roses was taken by Nevile Ditmen and uploaded on a GNU licence for public use. The other two phots have no restrictions and have been put into the public domain for use.

Music: Hourglass

2009-01-10T16:03:00.005-06:00

The Hours- Phillip Glass,composer; Branka Parlic, pianist

A harmonious pounding if there ever was one. My own simple definition of the musical instrument that has shaped my world since age 9. The piano has been an appendix to my body ever since. I cannot steer away from a black and white keyboard for long before I feel miserable and depleted of an essential energy akin to breathing. I was watching a video of The Hours by Phillip Glass (1937- ) on youtube today. The music created an interesting landscape in my mind. I remembered long lost conversations between me and a former significant other in a diner we use to frequent. The memory was a sad one but the music by Glass dignified the moment in a different way. I could see this episode of my life with certain detachment. Then it was not just a sad memory but a memory framed by the narrative music I was listening to. The music of Phillip Glass engages me. It surrounds me like literature and art. I can look at myself from the inside and the outside. In many occasions his music has had the reputation of being repetitious and hypnotic. But isn’t life both? How many times have I gone to the grocer’s where the same friendly cashiers greets me with a “Hi there, Sir how are you this morning?” or the endless times I had to wait for a red light to change into a green light. I could go on and on. When I am listening to Glass be it Songs from a Liquid Days, Koyaanisqatsi or Einstein on the Beach the word repetition becomes a rare petition, a petition on my part for sanity, for compassion, for at least trying to make a little sense of the chaos around me. Music always delivers answers to me.

Reality Check in a County Hospital

2009-01-09T20:56:00.005-06:00

Today I spent 14 hours at Parkland Hospital to get medicines for my asthma. I am exhausted to say the least. I had planned to write about other more "intellectual subjects" but my experience was a reality check at a grand scale. The hospital had hundreds if not thousands of people waiting to be helped. I saw a great deal of suffering as might be expected in such circumstances. Is not every day that I go to the Hospital for anything. In my case, it has being over two or three years since I have been in one. But the long wait made me observe the coming and going of people in a more detailed and focused way. I just took a very long hot shower when I got home at night as to cleanse my mind and body of the exposure to such suffering. The images of all those people I saw in pain and despair haunt me. I offered a silent prayer for them taught to me by a Tibetan lama. May all sentient beings be liberated from suffering and the CAUSE of their suffering. We are seconds away from becoming them, we are not excluded. I am grateful for all the blessings in my life, today more than ever.

Art: Separated at Birth

2009-01-08T19:45:00.011-06:00

While seated at a doctor's appointment the Pink Cowboy overheard a lively conversation between two men. They were talking about the follies of modern art, specifically about some pieces of monumental modern sculptures outside the building. "I don't see the point in it, I don't understand it, I mean, anybody could have done that...and they call it art? Well I just remembered good old jolly St. Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) stating that the one thing he was grateful for was that he understood EVERYTHING he ever read. I can only claim to understand 34.5% of everything I read...and that's during the course of a caffeine binge. Art has always been under appreciated by many. To each his own. But just because you do not understand something does not mean that it will not reveal itself to you at some time or another. You see, art for me is always human, always changing. Art is a form of intelligence that goes beyond language and description to foray into the psychological and emotional spheres of experience. Oh dear, that sounds quite lofty, but the point I am trying to make is that art is a suggestion; more than often a persuasion that dares you to look beyond the obvious and the commonplace.

Take these two pieces as examples. One is the famous statue of Apollo Belvedere of classical antiquity fame and the other is a photo I took of Piece No.3 Vertebrae (1968) by Henry Moore (1898-1986) at The Nasher Museum of Sculpture in Dallas. I see a pair of twins. Mind you, The Pink Cowboy has notions all of his own. That is the way it reveals to me. O.K, they are not identical twins but they carry the same DNA. I would imagine that any talented sculptor could render reliable copies of them. But that is only technique. What about originality, composition, creativity and vision? I did not dare to tell my fellow denizens at the doctor's of my admiration of modern sculpture, I was not invited into the conversation. But I wish I was part of THAT very important conversation if only to convey the immense pleasure I have derived from the contemplation and study of art. Many times art has saved me from myself in the form of my own stubborn prejudices and utter ignorance about many aspects of the human condition. When I fill my mind with art-thoughts I feel I am in communion with the eternal aspect of humanity. Art is a wondrous teacher and ally if you give it a chance. Art articulates reality and being in such a way that it elevates human expression into a universally UNDERSTOOD language.

I Sing The Body Photographic

2009-01-07T18:55:00.010-06:00

I have a reverence for old brownish vintage photographs. I've always marvelled at portrait daguerreotypes of the 19th century. They are the closest thing we have to time travel. I can stare at a collection of historical photos for hours on end. I enjoy trying to guess the exact year they were taken. I work like a detective. First thing I do is recognize fashion styles that might narrow down any proper chronological identification. I also identify architectural features, vegetation, geography and the sort. Then I go to my reference books and encyclopedias to classify what I see. The photo then becomes a living petridish that captures the essence of an era. I do own some vintage photos of my family that have been my first and only encounter with my heritage. One of such photographs is that of my French great grandmother. I am mesmerized by her portrait (isn't it interesting I use the historical present tense when referring about her as if she was still living!) because it is proof that my ancestors really existed! There is a famous philosophical question made by various thinkers along the centuries: Ubi sunt qui ante nos fuerunt? , meaning where are they who came before us? A pervasive mood all throughout my life. It is a puzzling statement. All the people of this world that built and created our civilizations where have they gone?, they are both dead (physically) and alive (intangibly). Vintage photos answer that philosophical enigma.

A funny thing happened on my way to transformation

2009-01-07T00:18:00.009-06:00

In the magical little gardens of my mind I found a jewel of a sign that read:

Abracadabra and fiddle-dee-dee,

my ego is outraged to see the new me

Abracadabra and hody-ho-ho,

my former neuroses, where did they go?

from Everyday Grace by Marianne Williamson

Is a magical spell for transformation.

The Pink Cowboy humbly asks:

Were they former new-roses ?

Epiphany Day

2009-01-06T23:41:00.006-06:00

Today is Epiphany Day in Latin America and Spain also known as Three Kings Day. As a little child in Puerto Rico it was of the most memorable occasions to go out and cut a bunch of grass to be placed in a shoebox. The idea being that the hungry camels carrying the Three Wise Men were tired and needed to be fed. At night we would place the grass underneath our beds and wait for new gifts the morning after. I chose King Gaspar to be me my personal king, I would always ask him for impossible gifts: A marimba, a cellar, a real airplane and an elephant. Instead I got a reel to reel tape recorder. It was a strange gift. It was not meant for 5 year's old. When I opened the gift my Mom gave a "I do not believe you bought that for your son" . My dad taught me to use the tape recorder. I used this gift for exactly 3 minutes. I never ever touched it again.

So today saw me looking for the Three Kings. I found a queen instead. In North Park Mall to be precise. There I was minding my window shopping business and I saw a big poster of Dame Edna advertising for a new line of cosmetics at Dillard's. I laughed all the way back to the car.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

2009-01-04T23:32:00.003-06:00

I like spending my Sundays reading the New York Times, sipping cofee and calling my friends across the nation. Today I just was not in the mood for it. My asthma is back. I haven't had chronic asthma since I left High School. When I moved to Syracuse, New York back in the early 80's from the Caribbean my asthma disappeared instantly. Not many allergens can survive the harsh winter. As a boy and teenager I remember all the suffering from chronic asthma. It kept me away from the outdoors and even school for many weeks during the year. Having asthma shaped my identity as a child. I was very timid. It was then when I developed my hunger for books and music. It has been a long while since then but ever since I moved to Dallas my health has gotten worse. So it was a not very pleasant Sunday. I felt very much fatigued. My harmonica playing in the form of whizing and whistling is back after so many years and my arthritis has gotten worse. I was angry and jumpy all day. The inhaler I use for the asthma worsens my "nerves". Good thing I was by myself all day, I was cranky. So I decided to attack the problem by listening to some Hawaiian songs I have in my iPod. My favorites are by the great Hui Ohana. Beautiful songs like Aloha le O wai'anae and Hula O Makee with its falsetto singers and slack guitars are a delight to the senses. Soon enough I felt the warm tropical breeze. The hammock swinging. The aroma of coconuts and pineapple. There is a feeling of ease and calmness in Hawaiian music. It's like the surf on the beach. The ebb and flow of ideas coming and going. None of those ideas in my mind stayed, yhey just floated away. I miss the ocean. I was born and raised on a tropical island in the Caribbean so it is not that difficult for me to connect with Hawaiian culture. Very soothing. Now I am seriously considering moving to a different location to be healthier.

Ruminations

2009-01-02T16:52:00.014-06:00

When I discovered the poet Rumi (1207-1273) back in my days at the University I felt I had just stumbled upon a kindred soul. My experience of the divine has always had a mystical and sensual undertone to it. To compare the concept of God to the beloved made me feel closer to the embodiment of Spirit. His was a God of mystery and ecstasy. Many times when I am by myself taking a walk in nature, among trees, or beautiful landscapes, I feel the presence of something bigger than me and my world. I can only relate it to the feeling of being madly in Love with someone. I always had my reservations with most dogmatic definitions of God. In fact, I use the term Universe, when addressing the Divine. Rumi was a soul in Love with the Divine. Everything is transformed when you focus on the universality of love. In his poetry life and death are but sublime bursts of divine energy. His poems set to music have been used by the whirling dervishes of Sufism for centuries. These dervishes turn and turn in a seamless motion evoking the fluidity of eternity. I like to recite his poem by candlelight, sotto voce, softly savouring every syllable like a ripe old wine:

Look! This is love-to fly toward the heaven,

To tear a hundred veils in ev'ry wink,
To tear a hundred veils at the beginning,
To travel in the end without a foot,
And to regard this world as something hidden.

Jalaladdin Rumi

A weight issue

2009-01-01T12:47:00.004-06:00

For more than twenty years I have been dealing with weight issues. I know how to diet successfully. I also know how to gain weight in no time. I have read many books and articles on the subject for many, many years. I have used meditation, daily affirmations, health books on the subject, medical encyclopedias, psychological counsel and dietitian advice to name a few. It has been a saga in my life. I do not even want to dwell on the subject for too long, I am beyond fed up with it.
Two weeks ago I went to North Park Mall in Dallas with my elder sister. We had a great time, seeing all the Christmas decorations, artistic sculptures, and enjoying one particular children choir performing Christmas carols. We took many photos. When I got home I downloaded the photos into the computer. I noticed two particular photos of me drinking a cup of coffee with a gigantic Christmas tree as a backdrop. It was almost the same picture of me. In one picture I was dead serious, in the other I had, excuse my immodesty, a radiant beautiful smile. I looked at them at least four times. I noticed something I had never noticed before. I looked twenty pounds thinner when smiling. You might not believe me. I am not trying to be over sentimental or Pollyanna about it. Now I know when I smile I look thinner, twenty pounds thinner. That was my realization. Boy, have I been smiling since, my cheeks hurt from stretching.

New Year's Transformation 2009

2008-12-30T23:39:00.014-06:00

I am always transforming myself. So each New Year's Eve I think about different personas I would like to embrace for the new year. I am fascinated by the diversity of thought and levels of self realization of my fellow humans. I like to believe that each person I meet has something that I can incorporate in my life. Layer upon layer I have built what I am today. I am of a distinctive style and appearance when looked from the outside but once you get near, really close, you will see my composite picture. I am my beloved mother who passed away in March; I am the taciturn lover who believed in astrological signs; I am the perceived enemy at work that turned out to be my friend; I am the frightened child that found solace and comfort in the unseen forces of love; and also the petulant university student that thought it was chic to wear black all the time. I will name the past and present avatars I wish to emulate for the next year:
1. Maya Angelou- She is poetry and courage.
2. Harvey Milk- He represented audacity in the face of persecution.
3. Cyndi Lauper- A rare combination of compassionate soul and wild woman.
4. SARK- We are all innocent deep down inside.
5. Louise Hay- Promoter of the most profound "affirmative action".
6. Grandpa Walton- Oh come on, where is your sense of humor?

I wish all my fellow bloggers and visitors an enchanted New Year full of possibilities and opportunities to do your thing in the most peaceful and exciting athsmosphere.

A job is a job is a job....NOT!!!!

2008-12-28T23:42:00.008-06:00

I am between jobs. Anxiety is lurking in the shadows and has prompted me to make a mental inventory of all the jobs I have held since I graduated from High School:

1. Store clerk at a gift shop

2. Spanish instructor

3. Translator

4. Cashier at a jeweler's

5. Cultural Consultant

6. Spanish, English and History Specialist at a Library

7. Magazine Editor

8. Pollster for an advertisement agency

9. Data entry worker

10. English Instructor

11. Special Education teacher

12. Photographer

13. Archivist

14. Legal assistant

15. Hotel concierge for VIP at a major hotel in the Caribbean

16. Hotel Front Desk clerk in a gay hotel

17. Comic book writer

18. Reporter for a Buddhist publication

19. Store manager for a computer business

20. Night manager for Michael's in Florida

21. Hotel concierge in a boutique hotel in Old San Juan, Puerto Rico

22. Exam proctor

23. Assistant for an interior design company

Why so many? I don't really know. I have just adapted to the circumstances. But I am getting tired of this. I feel awkward when I realize I have not held a job for more than three years. I hate it when people say the phrase I truly loathe: "this is as good as it gets." I do not conform easily, I know. I am too much of an independent thinker. I mean, I am not extreme when it comes to just shutting up and performing my duty but I am a very critical person, I tend to analyze all situations from different sides. It is my nature. But I am fed up about not having an income also. I live with my brother until I find employment. I am grateful he is both putting me up and putting up with me. But I moved to Texas to improve my lot.
I am always daydreaming about my perfect job. I feel the best job I have done is in editing. Editing is an intense affair. I have to use all my intellect and then some. I think and editor is not only a glorified proofreader. An editor is a guide. At best he or she is an enabler, a coach, a committed assistant that can point to the best a writer can offer. It is not about reading or cutting out writing material. It is about selecting the essential and making it understandable to the general reader. I wish I can find a job as an editor, I do not want to adapt so much to the actual circumstances as to loose sight of my goal. I have done that so often in my life out of necessity and out of insecurities. Now, I am quietly going to send vibes to the universe around me to get an editing job at a magazine or a publisher's.

Stand By Your Man- Tammy Wynette

2008-12-28T18:51:00.004-06:00

A song full of pathos, in my view, but tenderly endearing. We'll sing it by the fireplace this evening. Enjoy!

The Boy Vexillologist

2008-12-27T23:19:00.008-06:00

When I was six years old I developed a fascination for flags. I borrowed my dad's World Almanac to look at the different flags of the countries of the world. The colors and the national emblems often portrayed in them intrigued me so much I decided to memorize all of them. My dad would show me a national flag and I would answer the name of the country. This ability to recognize all of the flags of the world led me to learn all the capitals of the world. So early on I felt I had a special gift for being able to recall the names of countries, their capitals, and their flag. Naming the capital of Mongolia was my coup de grace (Ulaan Bator), people would gasp in awe. Word got to my teachers of my so called good memory. So soon enough I was going from classroom to classroom where students would ask me about the capitals of different countries. As I recall I did not miss naming the right flag or the right capital or the right country. One day when I got back from school I found three big corrugated boxes in the living room. Dad was early from work so I asked him about the flags. He looked at me and said-"You have not opened them yet?" They are for me??!!. I ran as fast as I could and opened the first box. Inside I found a light blue rack bearing the seal of the United Nations in the middle. I have never seen anything like it before. There were three segments. Each segment had about 35 holes on top. I opened the second box. It was a bunch of table flags made out of silk. The third boxed contained another set of flags. I felt I opened a treasure box. They were beautiful, shiny and soft to the touch. I remember taking the first flag, Afghanistan, and waving it. I took all the flags and one by one placed them in the rack to be displayed.

I have always been fascinated by the different countries of the world. It has been a leitmotif, so to speak, in my life. My passion for languages and world cultures led me to major in International Relations at Syracuse University many years later. I am so grateful my dad got me this present. To this day I see that magical day as the day my passion for knowledge started.

Some of my favorite things

2008-12-26T11:57:00.010-06:00

Magic wands

Bette Davis

Johann Sebastian Bach

Blueberry muffins

Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire

Color pencils

Montgomery Clift

Flag of Cymru

Kölner Dom

Architecture

Keeping journals

Massages

Chinese medicine cabinets

Doodles

Diners

Fountain pens

Quiet country roads

Baskets

Yellow roses

Cherry coke

Pretty salads

Double rainbows

ABBA

Animal wooden figurines

Hidden trails in the forest

Starbucks

White linen bed sheets

The word serendipity

The Beatles

Retro ladies

Pretzel

Outdoor cafés

Old books

Pianos

Guys with dogs

Libraries

Languages

Helvetica font

HDR Images

Flower shops

Chocolate

British phone booths

Blue and green together

Chinese paper lanterns

Cardigan sweaters

Castles with moats

Angels

Rainy days

Happy Christmas 2008

2008-12-24T16:23:00.002-06:00

Since I was a kid I always loved saying Merry Christmas!!! To everybody, specially on Christmas eve. I felt like emulating old pictures like It’s A Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol. I must admit I always loved “Nochebuena” or Christmas Eve best because I could sense the magical tone everyone acquired during the festivities. My paternal grandmother, whose family hailed from Catalonia in Spain, always prepared a gigantic nativity scene she brought from Tarragona. It included over one hundred porcelain figurines. She decorated a corner of her living room with corrugated brown paper painted with metallic tones of green, blue and red. There was a shining star, as big as an apple on the top of a blue wallpaper filled with stars. It also included the tall figures of the three Persian Kings on camels. Each king had its own entourage of servants and a squire. There was the donkey and the ox resting peacefully. Baby Jesus had a beautiful and delicate countenance. I stood there in awe of all the details in the scene. Somehow I understood the sacredness of the occasion. It was not the kind of mirth or joy that you felt during your birthday or when summer vacation started. It was a different kind of joy altogether. It was a joy veiled in deep mystery. Christmas was shimmering lights against a background of shadows, a flickering candle too fragile to handle yet so warm and welcoming. It has been said that Christmas, like the ancient celebration of the winter solstice, is the triumph of light over darkness. I do believe we humans, regardless of faith, come from a great energy source that manifest itself fully in our experience of love. We are a community of lovers so to speak. The birth of Jesus is an offering of love and hope. The season, the human season, call for community and connection with each other. Love is the most wonderful mystery there is. It dissolves the pain and the suffering that comes from the toil and hardness of life in this planet. To love is to heal, to be set anew by the great Spirit, to have a second chance, to give a second chance to others. This Christmas I will dare myself to stop being cynical about the state of affairs in the world. I have a world inside me that need healing and nourishing. It is time to shine our little light and rekindle the human heart. I wish you all a beautiful Christmas filled with mystery and love.

Harvey Milk: a true hero in my heart

2008-12-16T21:29:00.000-06:00

Imagine having to live a life where the very essence of your identity and whole being has to be defended publicly and reassured constantly. Imagine a life where more than often you have to hide how and who you love. Imagine for a second that kind of life. I am gay, I know. I went to see Milk the movie yesterday in downtown Dallas. Sean Penn was remarkable in his portrayal of slain gay rights activist Harvey Milk. The movie, a biopic, was intense and committed to tell the truth pertaining this hero of the gay community. Having suffered a great deal throughout my life for both concealing the fact and revealing the fact of being gay really makes me wish nobody has to go through this ordeal. It has been a life struggle having to deal with homophobia. Homophobia is so pervasive in our society. Many times it is not that obvious, it takes rare forms, it camouflages itself. It feed on fear and ignorance. Harvey Milk reminded us gay humans to fight for our rights, our human right to be free and live a good life. Above all, I think his most important legacy was his courage, his daring outcry against an unjust society. The struggle continues today when in the vast majority of states in America a gay citizen cannot marry or be protected against job discrimination. In many nations around the world people are killed for being gay. I often become indignant and emotional when someone expresses their hatred or intolerance towards gay people. Ignorance and disinformation are usually the culprits of homophobia. Harvey demonstrated with his life that you have to stand up for what you believe is right. He also believed that gay people must come out of the closet so their family, their friend, their neighbors and co-workers stopped making false asumptions about the "gay lifestyle" . When I came out to my parents I was 32 years old they immediately embraced me and assured me of their love. My two sisters do not wish to acknowledge me being gay. My brother fully accepts who I am (He went with me to see the movie). Many old friends stopped talking to me many years ago. The majority of my extended family pretends I am not gay and that I am some kind of a loner for not having a wife. I still do not understand why people react differently being given the same facts and information about being gay. I do know that those who have decided not to accept me fully for who I am simply put do not know me. I will not share the gift of my intense, vivid, adventurous, blessed life with them. Harvey Milk makes me proud to be gay, a gay human who lives and loves in this world. I am grateful for being gay, it has been one of the most important aspects of my life. The gift of being gay has opened doors to self exploring and realization, it has made me more human than anything else in my life. I honor the memory of a human being named Harvey Milk, an inspiration, a hope, a committed citizen, a brother in arms.

Meditation Insights: Perception

2008-12-12T08:07:00.001-06:00

My eyes are not a camera. It will not be fair to present all the snapshots I have taken and pass them as reality. I do not intend to reason on the subject of what is reality. The definition of reality is a conundrum, a social discourse, an explanation. Truth is not a picture. Many times truth seems to be a construction, us being the supreme architects. Truth is to be held in your heart. I mean Truth not the presentation of truth. Not the definition of truth, which is flawed by the limitations of language. Perception is a gateway to understanding the mystery of truth. I perceive as a sentient being. I am limitless in my Higher Being. How could I define or contemplate truth as something stationary, solid....the truth is...... I hold to the mystery of Truth. The mystery of truth is a gift to the human mind. The mystery of Truth is a voyage. Dwelling in truth is dwelling in love. May my perception of life and all other things that are not life be perceived in the beautiful mystery of Truth. I embrace the voyage, I am on my way.

A message to my teachers, wherever they might be.

2008-12-10T00:31:00.002-06:00

To the Venerable Khenpos Kenchen Palden Rinpoche and Tsewang Dongyal Rinpoche, teachers of love and compassion

Mount Meru Mudra,

Is a castle in the heavens,

It is the commitment of the bodhisatva

is the light of truth,

it is compassion,

I offer my teachers

the first harvest of my love,

and in the festivity of Tsog,

I shall bring your eternal peace.