Reality Check in a County Hospital

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!!!!

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

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

The Boy Vexillologist

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

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