Life Tramples

Los Herlados Negros (The Black Heralds)
By Cesar Vallejo

There are in life such hard blows . . . I don't know!
Blows seemingly from God's wrath; as if before them
the undertow of all our sufferings
is embedded in our souls . . . I don't know!

There are few; but are . . . opening dark furrows
in the fiercest of faces and the strongest of loins,
They are perhaps the colts of barbaric Attilas
or the dark heralds Death sends us.

They are the deep falls of the Christ of the soul,
of some adorable one that Destiny Blasphemes.
Those bloody blows are the crepitation
of some bread getting burned on us by the oven's door

And the man . . . poor . . . poor!
He turns his eyes around, like
when patting calls us upon our shoulder;
he turns his crazed maddened eyes,
and all of life's experiences become stagnant, like a puddle of guilt, in a daze.

There are such hard blows in life. I don't know.

CESAR VALLEJO AND ME
I wrote my thesis on this enigmatic Peruvian vanguard poet. I even lived in Paris as to trace back some of the poet's last years. Nothing can beat walking around Pere Lachaise and looking at his grave and moments later, passing Jim Morrison's heavy visited sepulcher.

HOLD ON!
Cesar poem's comes to mind because life has been trampling hard lately. Like getting hit by a car while waiting for the red light or just riding out a sea of an economic malaise that keeps people unemployed and fearful. Things have a way of happening even when one does the damnedest to do right. "This too shall pass?"

WHAT'S LEFT TO ALLEVIATE?
But I am bruised to the bone, literally: a back pain that follows down to my leg. Is it that sciatic never temporarily protecting me from my feelings since the bodily pain is easier to handle than that insidious anxiety? What is one to do? Spiritual recalibration with a Caribbean vacation, a day of prayer or a shot of whisky? Unfortunately, after 25 years of being clean and sober, that most appetizing panacea, that Good Old Whisky is what I must refuse. And since I am watching every penny, there goes that vacation and what remains is the praying option which I do regardless. The good news is that this reflective process has led me to a new alternative. When there's nothing left to alleviate: blog the anxiety away!

HOPE SHINES ON!
I am already feeling better, plus it's a full moon tonight and it always shines with hope, even underneath the clouds. Have a moon dance like a coyote in the wild! Let's enjoy the weekend, we deserve it.

Gracias a la vida

That What Was Told
by Jalalu'l-din Rumi
Translated by Coleman Barks

What was said to the rose that made it open was said
to me here in my chest.

What was told the cypress that made it strong
and straight, what was

whispered the jasmine so it is what it is, whatever made
sugarcane sweet, whatever

was said to the inhabitants of the town of Chigil in
Turkestan that makes them

so handsome, whatever lets the pomegranate flower blush
like a human face, that is

being said to me now. I blush. Whatever put eloquence in
language, that's happening here.

The great warehouse doors open; I fill with gratitude,
chewing a piece of sugarcane,

in love with the one to whom every that belongs!

When Smallest Means Biggest
Thanksgiving was an amazing event because I was surrounded by wonderful people and heartfelt conversation. Giving thanks to the smallest things is one thing, but seeing how these smallest things seem to matter more than the biggest, is the BEST thing ever. Like a chocolate bite can linger more than a chunk of Turkey. Or like your niece can reason something out and all of sudden, you see her as you've never seen her before. She is no longer a little girl but the smartest person ever. Or your nephew can look at you and know that the truth is ephemeral no matter how much math tries to prove otherwise. So yes, when you are with your love ones and truth happens, your vision feels it: "ceci n'est pas une pipe", for it is when one really sees what is.

Thanks to You
And there's one who's the example of THANKSGIVING, one who gave more than any other person I know this past holiday. It's always an honor to be with that someone who steps up to the plate and embodies the spirit of such a thoughtful American tradition: cooking all day long, caring how well people feel, giving up the self to please the others and going out of one's comfort zone in order to bring harmony and Joy. Fortunately, that someone is the best thing I have, and one who's immeasurable in every proportion. One small thanks to YOU and LIFE. I LOVE YOU. You are my everlasting sunset.

Why Can We Play Fair?

When I was growing up, I never understood the desire to get over on someone. As if that was a manly thing to celebrate since I watched men do it more than women. That sinister desire to beat the other "at all cost, including foul play". Now that I am older, that seems like a childish thing to do. But when I was a child, it seemed like a "big flaw of being older". Maybe I just never found it to be a "human quality".

I am not generalizing for I know plenty of men who play fair at their work and with their relationships. But just lately, I watched this happened to a dear and honorable friend. My friend became a victim of being played by a competitor who deceitful lied in order to take away his business. And others may say, "well, he lost to a shrewder person and did not know how to guard his own business". Why should we be guarding everything around us? Why are we after everyone's business? Why not stay in our business and respect the business of others? Is it time that we honor our neighbor and build our integrity? There's PLENTY going around for everyone...why rob your neighbor of their hard work? ABUNDANCE is everywhere: plant life manages to live even between the cracks of the cement sidewalks. Haven't you notice that?

I guess when it happens to someone I love, it hurts more than when it happens to me. It's like when my little brother would fall, I hated to see his pain but all I could do is hold his hand and not cry. The test of strength is watching those whom you love suffer and accepting that all one can do is be PRESENT for them.

I could hold my friend's hand and say how sorry I am for such loss. But I won't this time, for my friend knows how I feel. Sometimes it's best to just sympathize and say: "THIS REALLY SUCKS, DOESN'T IT". For there's no reason in fighting or arguing with reality but accepting it and then tolerating those qualities in others that may be inhuman to some.

The painting above by Kirchner reminded me of Men at Play. I just hope that the world will eventually learn to play fairly for the sake of our collective self-esteem.

Click here for a mood up-lifter, God knows I need it:

Wordsworth on Sunday Night

When I see Edouard Manet's 'Le dejeuner sur l'herbe', the following extract from Wordsword's 'Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood comes to mind:

Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

Enjoy a little music for the end of the week, click here:

Saturday Mornings

Nothing beats a good cup of coffee in the morning. Now that I have a Nespresso machine, the kind that makes between a latte and a cappuccino, my coffee is perfect. Just like they make it at Il Cafe Sant'Eustachio in Rome, near Piazza Nuvona or at Cafe Hugo, in Paris, inside the arcade of Place des Vosges. Funny how your mind travels every time you remember a joyful incident or a point of discovery. And several cups of Nespresso fill up my senses.


Saturday is the best day of the week when it comes to resting and doing what you like most: allowing myself to be, without any external strains. There were Saturdays when I would play volleyball from 11am until eight o'clock at night, skipping dinner and lunch, and coming home to crash after a pint of ice cream. Just doing what I felt like doing in that very moment. Sunday is not the same since the preoccupation that the week starts the next day lurks with a sad-anxiety over any diversion.


And then there are the dogs: True, Chance and Cheo. They love Saturday, especially CHEO, the young one of the three white labs that protect my life. When I was young, I loved the story of Jacob fighting the Angel. It gave me hope that one day I will also meet an Angel. And believe me, now that I've got more experience with how life turns out to be, I will definitely fight an Angel and probably win. But, thanks to my dogs, I feel like I met the real angels whose love has taught me more patience, forgiveness and tenderness. How do these creatures love? There's a wonderful novel, "The Story of Edgar Sawtelle", that explains it best.

And here's a little Saturday mantra that gets me up and going:
Click here for the beat

To Be or Not To Be

WEIRD REALIZATION
I've come to a point in my life when my mental faculties and my physical abilities begin to loose strength. Why? Once a confident person full of joy now an insecure one full of acceptance. Not to depress any one reading this, but it's hard to believe how the mind and body ceases to function like it used to. And yet, accepting that there's a ticking clock that slows you down, while it speeds time, becomes inevitable.

A REALIZATION
Is insecurity synonymous to humility? Is it OK not to know? Or to accept that you will never know? Knowing is the certainty of defining the essence of a thing. But the essence of everything, in the smallest form, becomes ephemeral. As if everything has two meanings that contradict their essence. The duality of life is a contradiction and defining it means accepting that you just don't know.

REALNESS
“Being is a contradiction in terms. It means a strong desire to live taking the form of readiness to die.” (I am not sure who said this, maybe I just doctored a quote from someone famous --my apologies for not citing whomever that may be.)

REALITY
Middle age has brought me more failures than successes. But the quality of those two are reversed when quantifying their impact it had on others. My successes have helped people more than my failures, so my family and friends would probably say that I have more successes than failures. I used to win at everything that I was good at...but then I got older and started doing those things that I had been afraid to do because it required me to go beyond the easy road. Consequently, I failed or wasn't a hit when entering an unknown field of work. And unfortunately, it made me loose hope on my strengths. I then looked for hope in my wisdom but found only the certainty of the unknown. Being is Not Knowing that you are being even if you are being.

REAL GOOD
Aside from having someone whom I love dearly and loves me for all the crazy reasons that I don't really want to know, yesterday, music from my childhood reassured me that no matter what, it's REAL GOOD TO BE. The old songs brought me a kind of jubilation that ironically nostalgia produces. And to walk away accepting that things are because they are, and that's good enough, I leave you with "Cucurrucucu Paloma" from Lola Beltran (-a video clip to applaud):

Click for Lola Singing!