Liviandad

2010 of flight, of colors, of grand travels, of incissions into the body.

2010 that cut me open, Herman Hessed into Abraxas, made me new.

2010 tomorrow still, forever present.

2010 of beach, of sun, of color.

2010 you ought to be saluted.



Thought: vivir plenos, con insolente necesidad por darse, buscar palizas de abrazos a felicidad, con labios abiertos pa la vida. Feliches, libreches! Liviandad

Vein Travel, Rapture

I would like to vein travel you. Set ship in your arteries. With my grand teeth open a bit of heart and just deposit myself warm there. Just for a bit.

That is how I perform 1st hand research on what is happening, really. And from there, decide how to approach this message.

I have not writen since moving to London in August. Wonder why. Busy much? Did not care perhaps? Nothing to say? Neither of these apply.

I flew over the Atlantic and decided it was time to disconnect myself from all past life, from all of me, to "become focused". Worked, studied. Tried to make life go somewhere. Went back to old ways. Stopped caring about body. Drank into oblivion. Made new friendships. Some very exciting and special. Others, simply new.

Nothing revolutionary, integrally changing, essence striking, has happened. No lightning has struck. I was hoping one would struck. That I would be turned to dust. Start new. Begin fresh. I have not, however.

So, I am looking back into the 2ND half because I am just getting around reflecting this happened since August. It should not be complicated, but for some reason, I choose to remain in a dense environment. But that should stop. I need fast waves, travelling sun, flowing spirits.

I expect more. I look for magic. Wrapture. Closing of the year begins.

Unleash Potential

Why are you so little this late in life? When was it that you fell off the carriage into the hachet and became comfortably numb? Unleash potential, my friend. Unleash.



“Unusual soul, unconventional thinker, spirit explorer, life adventurer, transparent heart, passion to do, and, life to the fullest”. His life appears to be that of a nomad yet he somehow found roots where he stood. All the institutions he belonged to now count with wings that boast his name. They were all transformed by him. He showed there is absolutely nothing men cannot accomplish. He was a parent, his children are beacons of his legacy.

Be particles of body scattered across the world. Be your own "Communities” and let them play 84 different songs, handpicked by you. Your life's soundtrack as a guiding compass. Each song representing a year of life. Send an unusual message and choose, for minutes, to be music. Be ashes on snow. Be frameworks of unconventional ideas that breathe fresh air. Be hopes suspended on mineral water tanks. Be a heart pulsating. Be colour on canvas. Be silence and observation. Be vibrancy of spirit. Be life, every year, every day, every minute, and every second.

Come to be NOT like anyone else. Be ocean power, fiery everlasting sun, a freedom seeking soul. Come here to be your own soul, to set your own path. Live life in seconds most miss. Transcend daily routines, go a layer deeper. That layer is a place no one will understand fully. Have a a way of engaging the world. Have a way of engaging communities. Be unusual, rich, and generous. Move with light, be a foreign dimension where finding meaning is all that could be asked.



Rest in Quito; glide over Maine; fly over Oxford spirals; fire start sparkles in the great New York; trainspot to India, China, Brazil. Paint London. At this very minute: be. At the next minute: be. Particles of soul envelop this air. Grab life and legacy.

"Look at life in the face and know it for what it is." Do not come here to live by anyone’s standards but your own. That is: creativity and heart. Come here “to find the perfect day, six glasses of water, seven phone calls”. Come here to challenge own notions. Come here to dare to know.

Just think of the soul, the one strived to become, and clap! Clap at the top of your hands, at the top of your hourses! Clap for life, for memory. Clap for victories. Clap for failures. Clap so a foot print sets clear through it all.

Souls, of desires, unobserved spaces, and seconds of existence. Back on the horse and onto the carriage. Time matters. Evolve. Matter. Unleash, yeah!

A Manifesto of Authenticity

A Thought: Authenticity is the most important value to uphold in professional life.

A Reason: Being authentic brings deeper levels of success and leads to building happiness, not only satisfaction.

A Reality: We work for most part of our days. Business life matters. It is not an island. It burns that it is practically impossible to be authentic in business.

A Fussy-Wussy: A professional survey screams: “you question ‘conventional wisdom and conventional behaviours’, you are a bit unconventional yourself.”

A Process: The child is no longer an infant, no longer a teenager. He is an activist. Out goes he. Plans to change the world. The corporation hits. The corporation demands. And he normalizes self. Others did as well.

Open Parentheses: I drank the cool aid, quenched my thirst, became a "team player", and played the role of "culture carrier". That is great and all. But what really happened? During this process, I drifted towards the status quo and the median. I gradually replicated behaviours and practices that had been established, used, and implemented by others in the past. I did think, I did create, I did innovate, I did deliver, I did produce. But, in all instances, I felt constrained. Constrained to act within accepted parameters. It was rare to deviate one step further, to really question the underlying philosophy of value proposition. In all, I was not able to channel my “authentic genius”, meaning working from my truest, rawest, bestest, or worst expression of myself. I did not find that realm where mistakes happen but where real, true innovation occurs. Close Parentheses.

A Conclusion: Authenticity is most challenged during career development because people do not easily accept what is unconventional until after the fact. We resist authenticity and chose to adapt, flex, and deliver within the expectations. We challenge authenticity because we believe that norms and rules add to productivity. We prefer to operate in comfortable spaces where the level of risk is lower. When we are authentic, we are at our best, deliver the most, reach full potential.

A Secret: I find myself living at the peripheral areas of my brain. Before, I did not. Now, my brain makes decisions considering notions of career success that seem to respond more to ego needs, societal demands, or perceptions of what a career path should look like.

A Suggestion: Act, study, relate to others from a point of absolute raw expression. Build on everything learned but operate from a no-pose point of view. Make this choice because life then becomes a risk-free environment in which we get to understand our very mortality. You will then build resilience. In that way, channel unconventionality in productive ways.

Most Cliche-d Explanation: Enhance unconventionality and become authentic. Leave an impactful, lucrative, and exciting trace. Search for something special. That is the opportunity to be. Find a business, role, function to channel energy. Repeat NOT others, find self, this will lead to a deeper level of success and build happiness, not only satisfaction.

Drink this cool-aid.

Mercurio, Sky

Thar Desert. India. March. 2010.

Un escarabajo y un hombre, yo en forma humana, luchando por la duna mas alta del desierto. Momento permanente. Grabado. Entendiendo la evolucion.



El cielo cayendo electrico, directo, metalico, banado de mercurio, termometro desparramado y Dali hablando en Indi. Trance.

Floating House

Dear,

So much happening at once. Life cascading down with many subtle situations that only one can weigh and understand why they are so complex. You will remain a float. I have seen you. You are too much of a strong swimmer. Luckily, you know that better than anyone.

I hear you and the things that are or were happening seem of the kind that is embedded, a bit deeper than usual. The detachment from a boat, the detachment from a heart, the ending of prior chapters and lives. Whatever the outcome of these situations, I am sure you will arrive at the right destination.

Give yourself to thinking about what you need and want. Do it. For hours if needed. Go running. Do yoga. Perhpas take a ride up north to wine nations. Treat yourself to finding a bit of silence to determine what is to happen and how it is happening. The how is happening can be changed. And a lot can improve just by understanding that. Regardless of outcome, I think this silence, time with yourself, brief times of healing with yourself and for yourself, will provide clarity, ease, and the emotional strength will prevail over the exhaustion.

It is a lot to feel and a lot to let go. But you cannot be sad. Perhaps you need to feel sad. It may be needed and healthy. But of course, I do not want you to feel that way. I want you to objectively look at what is happening and split the issues. And whatever feelings come. Have them all. As needed. But do look at them, observe them, and take care of them one by one. I think it is possible and every day will be better. I even bet you are in an entirely different state of heart today.

Perhaps it is time to let go of your floating house. You have found such peace and warmth in those waters. I know because I have seen you, even if only glimpses, smiling while you float in it. You rock that boat. That boat rocks you. But, perhaps, it is time to let go of it, find yourself in the city, and living with a friend and muse sounds like the perfect transition. You will have company, when needed. You will have comfort and space. And you will gain sanity to move back into life after letting go of your marriage. And that boat may remind you of that prior chapter or perhaps hold you in the in between. Just think about these things. Even if you are feeling better. Do give yourself to thinking about your life, your grand scheme, your longevity. Not only the today and next week but what is it that you want in the future or for you. Perhaps that boat is holding you in a safe place, warming you, and it may be the time to let go of it. And move onwards.

You are brave and you can do that. Boats will be floating. That neighborhood will be waiting if you ever decide to come back in another chapter of your life. I would say, think about this. Think about yourself and what you need. What is out there, as a solution, to really let go of the sadness and move ahead. It may be a challenge but challenges are often incredible sources of inspiration, growth, and lead to changes that also lead to better times if properly managed. And I am sure you can manage this properly my dear.

You have told me this and I know this is a fact. Love is waiting and love will find you. It will find you accurately and precisely. And it will suit you and fulfill you, thoroughly. I am sure that you know this and know the situation you are in better than anyone. Be strong and honest and do not arrive to a place of dishonesty. Act from the heart and with heart.

As you know, I am here. I am here always. And want to hear how you are doing at all moments. Always. Not skipping any sad news. Not withholding any great news. I want all the moments. All the feelings. And I want you to feel that you can arrive at me when you want. It is safe. It will always be.

There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that is happening to you that I think you can find fault in. You are just living. And you have to continue. Face and chest upwardly pointed, smile within regardless of the hardship, just a sense of seeking for better-ness of "I find bliss because I look for it" and nothing passes without roughing it. So rough it. But get through it. Count on me for whatever. I am here.

I miss you.

Citi Standing <-> World Boggling!

Leaping, from world to world. Cities, urban enclosures. Spreading opportunity.

Standing over: city. Feels natural: cos-mo-POLIS.
Let it all dawn. Let the world descend.
Stand, on top, with perspective.

Peripheral, pers-pect-ive! Dawn on!

Timeless Abraxas

Woman and Man,

How fitting to refer to you as dramatically as that. Salute you by referring to your gender: generically. Not by your nationality or name, but instead, by one of the broadest definitions of your respective selves. I do that, of course, consciously, because I need as great an space as possible to get this idea out. This is an attempt at I am not sure what just quite yet. Perhaps, an attempt to share. Nothing else. An attempt to share.

Background: The text I enclose below was born on page #111 of a gift that I received on my 26th birthday: “Demian.” To date, one of the most special gifts I have ever received. Its significance is of such magnitude to me because Herman Hesse recounts recognition of self existence from the very moment of being child and infant. I did not think it possible to detail procedures, findings, conclusions at one point in time that is so distant to present and then speak to a man (me) in our times and ages in first person to the extent he does.

I felt I ought not keep this to myself. It would be tragedy to retain it, a simple reaction that is also egocentric. Sharing it does mean singling out a particular piece of literature from an entire work of art. A book from a shelf. A name, to be a point of reference to you. It also means putting forth a thought. This may be telling of what my psyche and mind currently find relevant when it may not necessarily be the case in eternity. It happens now, it is now, and the question of importance may or may not decay. I have felt, though, it is permanent. Relevance, I feel, shifts as we grow older, wiser, and become different from what we were. This text and conclusion seems, however, timeless to me at present and so I share it.

Dilemma-S: I have fought with the button for many reasons. One, I admire your intellects and singling out one particular text has to be telling and purposeful. You are well read, well felt, well lived. What can I teach you? Is this text relevant enough? I have asked these questions to myself many times. Two, a long time ago, I buried the notion of destiny as important to understand existence. I buried it as soon as I learned the concept of dialectia and swept aside my once beloved pre-Socratic school. Because I am optimistic in general, fate is in particular a very difficult concept for me to grasp or assign any validity to. In a way, I always felt fate assigns us to a powerless way of being. Three, and most importantly, Demian says more than the below. It is so much more. How dare I just choose, pick, and send.

Conclusion: I should dare. This book has given me blind hope. It has re-introduced me to me on a new physical, intellectual, and visceral life challenge. That is: “I am here to find the path to myself”. Finding the path to myself, in all, has been what I am here to do. I understand it now: fully. It is not an excuse but rather the greatest challenge.

Read away. Find the meaning of Abraxas. Find Abraxas. Anyhow… here goes. From Herman Hesse to you:

“At this point a sharp realization burned within me: each man has his “function” but none which he can choose himself, define or perform as he pleases. It was wrong to desire new gods, completely wrong to want to provide the world with something. An enlightened man had but one duty – to seek the way to himself, to reach inner certainty, to grope his way forward, no matter where it led. The realization shook me profoundly, it was the fruit of this experience. I had often speculated with images of the future, dreamed of roles that I might be assigned, perhaps as poet or prophet or painter, or something similar.

All that was futile. I did not exist to write poems, to preach or to paint, neither I nor anyone else. All of that was incidental. Each man had only one genuine vocation – to find the way to himself. He might end up as poet or madman, as prophet or criminal – that was not his affair, ultimately it was of no concern. His task was to discover his own destiny – not an arbitrary one – and live it out wholly and resolutely within himself. Everything else was only a would-be existence, an attempt of evasion, a flight back to the ideals of the masses, conformity and fear of one’s own inwardness. The new vision roles up before me, glimpsed a hundred times, possibly even expressed before but now experienced for the first time by me. I was an experiment on the part of Nature, a gamble within the unknown, perhaps for a new purpose, perhaps for nothing, and my only task was to allow this game on the part of primeval depths to take its course, to feel its will within me and make it wholly mine. That or nothing!”

Herman Hess, Demian

Lagrimas de Elefante

Un hueco, un lugar de mi memoria. Haber llegado a India en la noche, sin conocerla. Tantas muertes bajo los pies de elefantes. Que tierra aquella. El mundo no palpita igual fuera de ella.

Lágrimas de Elefante [Estudiando & Escribiendo]
Nueva York – 11/19/2007
Tierra de los Sueños

En ésta ciudad construida de piedra oscura, en ésta ciudad de grafito, te pido que tomes mi mano y camines conmigo al tope de éstas trescientas sesenta y cinco escaleras. Tengo algo que mostrarte.

Viento cálido sopla y toca nuestras túnicas blancas. Sé, que no tienes claro porque llevas puesto una túnica, te digo, yo tampoco. Así es la vida, sube. El silencio es único en éste atardecer, el sol reluciente pero distante, es una tarde clara. No es un desierto, es una ciudad de piedra.

De la mano, entonces, caminamos hasta el tope de las escaleras. Debes mirar lo que te voy a mostrar, te digo. Por fin, llegamos a un descanso donde el graderío llega a su fin. Ahora, ¿dime que ves?

"Veo bajo mis pies una plataforma. Junto a mí, te veo a ti (tú presencia ahora, frente a ésto, pare ser honesto, me es irrelevante, porque estoy en una plataforma al tope de una montaña con una ciudad de grafito a mis espaldas). Directamente frente a mí, a menos de quinientos metros, veo la cima de una colina, donde comienza un camino en pendiente negativa, que debe tener una inclinación algo mayor a -45 grados. Donde comienza el camino, veo una carpa que esconde algún tipo de actividad. Si me preguntas, te diría que ese parece ser el punto inicial para una carrera. El camino que cae, es de tierra. A sus bordes, hay una muchedumbre de gente que mira, grita en silencio y espera. Siguiendo al camino colina abajo con mi vista, veo que la recta gira al final y parece terminar en un pozo. Donde sólo hay un pequeño charco de agua, donde comienza el horizonte..."

Perfecto. Ahora, no dejes de mirar.

Salen de repente, elefantes de la carpa, que se desploma con la actividad. Salen debajo ella, decenas de elefantes a toda velocidad, montados por hombres de piel casi tan oscura como éste grafito. Salen uno tras otro, levantan polvo, y comienzan a correr a toda velocidad, montaña abajo apenas se desprenden de la carpa que los cubría. La gente comienza a elevar banderas, a gritar, a mirar curiosos, para ver que ocurre.

De repente, alguien llega junto a nosotros en la plataforma, y nos dice al oído, "ahora, mírenlo a él, fíjense en ese jinete".

Al principio nos da gracia, y sonreímos, nos olvidamos de lo que ésta carrera representa. Lo vemos al hombre, delgado, intentando mantener el equilibrio y agarrando con todas sus fuerzas a la cuerda que actúa como rienda para controlar a éste animal que ya es incontrolable. Se bandolea de lado a lado en el lomo de su elefante. Su cara, de repente, es de pánico. Desde la colina, en medio de la carrera, regresa a ver a nuestra plataforma mientras su elefante choca contra otros, y, nos mira directamente a los ojos. Por su mirada, comenzamos a llorar. Nadie nos ha mirado de esa manera. Hemos descubierto la pena.

En seguida, deja de mirarnos, pierde el equilibrio, y cae al piso. Como insecto, corre entre los pies de elefantes hacia uno de los muros al costado del camino que resguardan a la muchedumbre. Pasa por debajo de los barrotes, se ha salvado. Logra salir vivo. Aún cuando está ya, en el grafito que rodea el camino de polvo donde corren los animales, su expresión no es de alivio. Aún cuando la muchedumbre lo abraza y le da palmadas en la espalda, lo vemos con ansias. Lo vemos correr colina abajo y desprenderse de los abrazos. Lo vemos llegar al pozo, donde se han reúnido en armonía los elefantes que han terminado la carrera, con sus respectivos jinetes. Ahí, donde toman un baño antes de caminar juntos al horizonte.

Llega éste jinete al final del camino, al pozo, y lo vemos caminando sólo, nervioso, sin su elefante. Por separado, de repente, su abandonado elefante parece darse por enterado y sale a encuentro del jinete. Nos parece lógico y nos emociona. Lo dejaron desmontado en medio de la carrera. El elefante se acerca y lo mira a su jinete, camina hasta estar directamente frente a él. Se miran a los ojos. El elefante se inclina, y con su movimiento, vemos como resbala lentamente una de sus lágrimas, que cae hasta disolverse en el suelo de arena. Lentamente, en un movimiento circular, extiende su trompa, y con ella, abraza una piedra de grafito. La levanta a ésta piedra, y sin titubear, la deja caer sobre la cabeza de su jinete que permaneció quieto durante este proceso, mirando el reflejo de su cara en la lágrima de su elefante. El jinete a muerto. Muere en el mismo lugar donde cayó la lágrima y vio sú ultimo reflejo. Muere en el mismo lugar, donde, el elefante, se bañará, y se quedará a la espera, de una mayor pena.

Hoy, nos dice nuestro acompañante en la plataforma, es el día más triste de su vida, hoy, comienza su soledad.

dES-PRENDiEndo-ME

Estoy en Delhi, cerrando hoy Week #3 de mi vida en India. Justamente es el punto medio de mi viaje. Quedan tres semanas por delante antes de dejar este subcontinente magico que me ha entregado tantas cosas en tan poco tiempo.

El tiempo y el espacio en que esta mi alma se han vuelto lunares. He sentido la temperatura de mi alma y de mi espiritu irse acercando a lo que la luna representa. Cada vez son mas circulares, cada vez tienen mas tonos que solo descubres con observaciones detallados, y a lo lejos, siento que mi cuerpo cobra nueva luz cada vez que se esconde el sol. Cada dia que termina se siente como una oportunidad mas de comenzar de nuevo. A brillar. A mirar la tierra con perspectiva. A dejar que se formen nuevos crateres. Y a entenderme en la distancia hacia todo, cada vez mejor.

Gracias por acompanarme. Ha sido todo tan intenso y agitado que simoplemente he tenido que escoger momentos especificos para decir algo de tantas emociones que me han envuelto. Este pais, lo tienes que visitar. Y esta aventura, como muchas otras, espero podamos hacerla juntos. Aun cuando seguramente comienzas a formar un hogar y descubrir nuevas prioridades que te podran alejar de pensar en algo asi, espero de corazon, que tengamos la oportunidad de seguir juntos con nuestra busqueda y necesidad de explorar las mareas infinitas - como decia X - de la vida. Explorarlas hasta quedar empapados.

En el safari que hice a camello compramos Bhang. Aparte de eso, he pasado lejos completamente de substancias modernas (cafe, alcohol, cigarrillos, drogas). El peso que subi en Nueva York y que luego sume en Mumbai dandome vida de jet setter ya se ha ido. Veo mi cara nueva. Siento a mi cuerpo diferente. No hay mas peso que el del maltrato de viajes austeros en la India, o el del peso de mi mochila que es lo unico que traigo conmigo. Ropa contada y muchos cuadernos y libros que han sido los ideales companeros para este viaje a mi alma y al alma de la India. Sentirme asi, lejos de las fiestas, de los excesos, de las preocupaciones ridiculas de la gente, me ha traido a un lugar donde me enfoco en mi futuro con completa tranquilidad y con tiempo. Veo al futuro con tanta gana, lo veo como un camino brillante, y me armo de energia para comenzar a tallar ese camino precisamente como lo he querido. Con una sonrisa en el alma, que ha vuelto.

El motivo de hablar sobre Jaizalmer, la ciudad desertica de donde sali por 3 dias en camello al Thar, es porque luego de viajar en un camello sintiendo estar en una alfombra magica gracias al Bhang, llegue a las dunas. Esa noche, y luego otra que fue despues de una sesion de meditacion personal en Pushkar, una ciudad sagrada en Rajasthan, llegue a espacios personales que fueron reveladores. A espacios que me conmovieron hasta el fondo del alma. Como no me ha pasado en mucho tiempo. En esos momentos de tanta verdad, de tactar el infinito, senti, a fondo, y de verdad, la suerte de tenerte. La suerte de habernos encontrado tantas veces en la vida y de haber llegado a tenernos como nos tuvimos los ultimos meses. Que seran eternos. Y que seguiran siendo asi.

Estar acostado en el desierto, en un colchon, con mantas que pesan, cuando la temperatura cae, y teniendo el sonido del desierto y las estrellas tan cerca que te imaginas que caen sobre ti como estalactitas, te hace delirar en vida. Tuve momentos en los que el espiritu logro cobrar claridad y ver imagenes fuertes. Sentirte a ti, verte, como cuando te conoci la primera vez que tengo memoria de conocerte, y luego, viajar como ese nino, en esa cama, conversando contigo hasta llegar a lo que somos hoy. Fue como si hubieramos tenido un primer encuentro carnal, asi de fuerte, fue sentir una conexion tan primaria de lo que es tu existencia en mi vida, o de la importancia de tu como un personaje en mi historia de vida. Fue climax-tisante. Y para mi, muy relevante.

Hace tiempo habia perdido la oportunidad de lograr perspectiva. Siendo absolutamente duro con las relaciones y siempre dispuesto a ser decepcionado por cualquier persona. Ese momento, fue importante, porque saldo esos espacios abiertos regados por toda la vida.

Es desde ese punto de donde escribo. Estando en un camino especial de vida. Te siento en vida, clara, y absolutamente presente en todo. Quisiera que leas como te leo. Lo que escribes, como siempre, es sabio, es profundo, y demuestra el entendimiento acertado que te tienes. Todas estas cosas, son pertinentes, porque sin darte cuenta, esta hablando tu alma, sin palabras medidas, sin prosa pensada, sino naturalmente fluyendo hacia mi, en realidad, como un alma expectante por vida. De verdad, no hay mas que podamos pedir, que la oportunidad de vivir una vida llena de retos, pero con emocion, con el corazon en el alma, y la cabeza en el corazon.

Sabes mas que bien que me hace mucha falta estar contigo en este momento. Verte desenvolver entre tus hormonas que poco a poco han entendido. Verte ser sobrepasada por tantas emociones que allanan las concepciones que habias fijado en la vida porque vas descubriendo un proceso nuevo que te esta cambiando la vida, y que tu, mejor que nadie, sabe que lo quiere hacer lo que siempre ha sido. Aun cuando no estoy ahi, siento que llegare a tiempo para ayudarte.

Ahora, en la India, ha sido dificil. Porque mi camino esta aqui pero en alma, en zen, en om, en nirvana, estoy contigo, en tu corazon, en tus pensamientos, ayudandote, como nos ayudamos, a responder esas preguntas que solo tu y yo captamos porque son importantes, porque son relevantes, y porque merecen atencion.

El dia que llegue al desierto, en el tren que recorria tierras aridas, crei tener visiones. Vi tres pavos reales, caminando libres en varandas de cemento de una de las aldeas deserticas inmersas en pobreza, sequia y belleza. Se me confirmo que esa no fue una vision. Apenas baje del jeep con el que cruzamos al desierto para encontrar nuestros camellos, un pavo real gigante volo sobre mi cabeza, aterrizo, me quedo viendo y se metio a los cuatro matorrales que habia. Ese pavito era una visita tuya. Me hizo pensar en ti. En extranarte y quererte tanto. En poder decirtelo a traves de las plumas que me hechizan con el recuerdo que es presente, permanente, y perceptible tu alma y tus ojos. Que me ven como soy. Que los veo como eres. Y ese vino blanco, que siempre quedara destapado, siempre, esperando que sangre mi cabeza, que armemos proyectos enteros en base a una idea, que pintemos en las noches estructuras resplandecientes con cortes en los pies y papelillos brillantes en nuestra piel.

Love ya, Miss ya, See ya

Habitat Setting - Dawning Kumb Mehla

You can adjust to any habitat the world has to offer.
Human.
Human is as adaptable as mind permits.
And mind is as infinite as one defies it to be.
No immediate limitations.

Wash your underwear by hand. Day one.

Bathe at the holi river in your underwear among legions of pilgrims from a historic and millenary culture. Day two.

Advance and predict without repercussions the solutions of upcoming movements. Body can follow the mind.

Get used to treating it as savagely as possible. Respect it. Respect them. Yet, do not fail to introduce them to new woundrous habitats, forever.

02/23/2010: NYC to Mumbai : 14 horas >) Sky

Los caminos recorridos hacia mi alma, a mi verdad, han sido sinuosos y sintuosos. Han sido acordes "fuera de tempo", violines que repican, y contadas gotas de agua. Las imperfecciones de mi corazon, abierto, latiendo, sus profundas grietas que resaltan inquietudes.

Hace un ano comence a caminar hacia mi. A ritmo. A paso doble. Caminando a un lugar noble donde los cruces, las pendientes, y las perspectivas se conjugan para dar por fin el yo. Yo como verdad. Yo desnudo. Yo baniado en mi.

Ya no mas como un reflejo de algo mas. Ya no mas como un punto imaginario. Sino como presente en presente.

India Week #2: Now, Less Metallic

A camel is a monumental animal. Honorable and brutally strong. Persistent, quiet, quintesentially tall. "Raju", said the local man leading the zafari in basic English, "is his name". He raises his hand to height of his white turbant, and with a rough tone, he directs you to mount Raju. You mount it and after 12 hours reach your destiny.

The desert shows itself vast and imperious. The land around is pure gold. The horizon, further ahead, red and rocky. Perplex shadows of green appear timidly, scared, against vast plains of soil that extend below your feet. Plains of soil that extend, like flawless geographical plains marked by vectors that must have been drawn on a draft for a renacent work of art. Your body feels like an aluminum compass. Vertical. Your feet, like a pointed needle. You stand atop an infinite sheet of coarse paper in Western India.

A sand dune, the largest and tallest of all the dunes in this golden cordillera, stands ahead. You set yourself on course to climb it. Prior, you realize: "I am, no longer metallic. I am, no longer, an aluminum plain, a center of vectors." You remove the turbant that was tightly wrapped around your head since the early morning by Mr Desert, himself. You no longer wear the camel- saliba-and-sweat-stained-fine-white-cotton-thread-shirt you purchased in Rajasthan's basari on the eve before. Your body is bare. You let loose of your shoes as fast as you can. Your feet, no longer touch the camel's stomach. Rather, they discover a new touch. Silky sand, feels cold, perfect. You step, for the first time, into an ocean of sand. There is no shade on this side of the dune. The sun reflects on its top but no longer hits your face.

You climb. You look ahead yet find ways to turn around, to move sideways across the dune. It is difficult to not turn, difficult to not find ways to distract yourself before reaching the summit. Silky sand, tuning this unexpected, new, ackward body with the desert. Ultimately, the distraction owes to one single fact. That is, knowing, understanding, and been certain that what you will see at the top of this dune will be vast. It will be absolute. It will be something more than a vision. It will be a memory, that will become permanent, relevant. It will be about mastering the day, through the single, simplest moment. You are sure and certain, this moment, on the summit, will have repercussions.

Repercussions. Repercussions. Repercussions. Distract yourself from the summit. Repercussions.

Bring on the repercussions. Summit reached. All particles seem to have returned and form your body's core again. You are compact again. You think, and better yet, you know: "I am new. I am new. I am, too, desertic."

Over the past 24 hours, riding a camel, I seem to have made mine this dire earth's desire for water. I seem to have made mine the desire to thrive under the extreme sun, to endure extreme conditions, and to persist within draught. Now, there is an an ocean of sand, shades of red confusing themselves with the intense blue that fills the sky above. The sun, impressive, shinning still, as the day ends. The heat, at the late hours of the day, manageable. A dozen camels, resting below the dunes. Sand dunes covering the horizon and spread around in every possible directions. Mountains of gold, of silky sand, untouched by the billion people that populate this subcontinent.

I am in a remote place. I am in a remote place. I am in a remote place. I am in a remote place.

Gold and blue in shades my eyes have not seen before. I stand here in the Thar Desert, about 60km away from Jaizalmer, Rajasthan's largest city furthest to the West, equidistant from the Pakistan border. There were camouflage military bases, military vehicles, and peacocks flying freely on the way before reaching this point. I stand in an area of intense international conflict. An strategic point between two of the world's nuclear powers. An area that has seen hoards of Hindi and Muslims disagree, fight, destroy, and combat. Combat for beliefs. Combat for land. Combat for history.

In the single moment, I too stand here combating, disagreeing, fighting, feeling nuclear against my own history and the present moment. Desertic oceans do that. They make moments, ceremonial. It is easy to be new away. Away from history. On an ocean of golden sand.

I walk on the profile of the summit. And I remember. On one side shade. On the other, the sun, as a perfect circle, setting down. My heart looks aside and suddenly discovers the perfect opportunity for action. The perfect opportunity to allow greater excess to this extraordinary moment. The body craves to run downhill, at full speed, down the mountain of sand. No repercussions. Just run. I run. 45 degree slope. I run. Feet reach deeper into the sand. Hit whatever I have to hit in the way. Fall whichever way. Just run and toss and turn. Be free.

Running downhill leads to trampolines. Of the childest kind. Running downhill leads to laughter and the heart pounding ever faster. Running downhill presents you with the summit yet again. It reminds you, of the opportunity, for mastering the day, through the simplest, single moment.

This pilgrimage continues. Experiences, brutal, transformational, find shape. India is a revolution to the heart and mind. I can only find minutes to uncover fine moments. The desert was one. I hope, to find structure to all of this. The journey, itself, is meant for that. For now, I remain, running downhill, falling whichever way, discovering India, tossing, turning, in awe, admiring, being eternally grateful for this amazing privilege, understanding it, and, every day, being less metallic, less aluminum, and a more compact soul.

Cracks of the Spirit: Unthink-able Surprises

J. "Say the letter J", I repeat to myself, "just say it: J, J, J!"

The thought is not intelligible. It is the wrong summary for a first day in India. There ought to be more. It is the wrong thought for a first day in Mumbai - a global city that breathes and exudes music of its own. It is certainly the wrong sound to recall all the beats of one block's walk. It is the wrong phonetic image for the loud whispering within this city's walls. But, unalterably, I ought to repeat it: J!

J has become the vastest single memory of my first day in India. The sound of the letter is what I have heard repeated during the incessant murmur of crowds in every street and by the drumming of buildings that tailor the complex history of this city. It is my own beating now. J. My mind fixated on it as an image I want to recall (from this Thursday in the present calendar) for its symbolical importance and not for the actual scientific repetition of its use in the local tongue. It is a sound that is basic, raw, and proper to my core now. J.

Hear this country. J. Aspire to sound along with it. J. India's flirt, let it find you out. J. Let it smitten you with hope. J. Possibly maybe. J. There is possibly maybe. J. J. J.

My journey here is not to be conventional. It is about re-thinking alphabets, about testing basic forms of cognitive knowledge that that have shaped an all too matured psyche that will not suffice me, in its current state, for any lifetime ahead. Coming here is about returning somewhere internal and simple. It is about allowing images as trivial as the sound of letters to fill in the voids of the heart and rewrite common places and forgotten feelings. To revolution-ize the places of my spirit that have become unattached from the world. That have lost a sense of humanity and connection.

The purpose, in a nutshell: obtain a sense of wisdom in the recalling of spirit. Grasp the opportunity to learn how to gather, again, fetus style. And to learn this, not as a momentary, visit-specific or travel driven purpose, but rather as an everlasting skill, priority, and purpose of being. For some reason, this process is not common place to me.

Piano plays away. Now, at dawn, Damien Rice serenades. Heart races along. The Arabian Sea ahead. My forehead points to it and thinks: "I want to spend time with you". A designer's loft. A vast window facing it. Antiques gathered for centuries crisply and perfectly positioned along the Eastern wall of the apartment. The wall, endless. The treasures, collected by a dignitary's eye. Two women sleeping deeply in the contiguous rooms to the one I sit in complete darkness, except for the light of the moon that pours in. Have you mastered the perfect day? Has the day felt endlessly broken in tilted movements of life expressions that showed angles, never imagined, but ever captured?

A bright purple wall on my back. Facing directly at the ocean, defiantly. Two water bottles screaming as loudly as the crows by the ancient tropical trees that lay next to my window. Realizing that none of this was up to us. Neither up to me, nor up to the water bottles, nor to the crows. None of us designed any of of what I saw today. No single segment of the endless, vast history of this country, was up to us and never will be. Realizing that you stand far. That you come in as a foreign soul with a band aid and a handicap to understand everything that you could want to understand. Knowing, that you are minimal. Just as a point in history as a mind capable of grasping the eternity of this world and the forces that shaped it. What a cosmopolitan soul I am? Try again. What an uninformed simple mind better captures it. Until you are here, you do not know. At least, I did not.

No matter what, no matter when, our capacity to realize what exists anywhere remains, utterly, limited. Grand civilizations, much like this one, simply place you where you belong. At a point where the X marks the start. The genesis to learning, learning, learning, and learning the importance of nourishing a global soul that ever struggles with the capacity to really be part of a place's history. The world is here and there. Explore. Explore it. Make a point of it. Start. Remember this. Make of this thought a life priority. Vast ocean waters ahead. Vast sounds, J, open up.

The sea, the wall, the bright purple, the lack of space are memorable from this day. All beating to one sound. To J. To this very sound of this alphabet that right here, in this place of the world, feels vast, feels endless. One wonders, am I an accidental baby of this land? A baby just thrown into the world. Thrown into Mumbai.

Here I sit feeling Mumbai. Feeling India's light. Here in India I am in a hidden place.

I saw a woman today running. Her colors were bright. Her back was showing flesh as she sped away. The rest of her body was draped in cloth - yellow and red. Her speed impressive. She ran among thousands of cars in an semi-paved highway. From within the bubble from which I observed her, she seemed to be two seconds away from elevating. Elevating above from the black taxi cabs, from the people sleeping on the streets once called untouchables, from the temperature of the air covering this city of disparities and beauty. Speeding up to meet the skyline of luxury that intermixed with colonial buildings. She ran next to me against backdrop of cement, steel beams protecting low rising buildings, and skyscrapers dirty with the lush blanket of global pollution. She rose towards a ceiling that met the sky. She did that over a city by the ocean that seems to have forgotten about the sea that encloses it. A sea that no one does seems to see. This city has a different more profound ocean. It hosts 17 million people of the world. Who move. Who touch. Who feel. Who seem grasted in a mystic trance. Spirituality in a city that is told to behave as a cosmopolitan meca of flavors. A city that breathes the local. While it exudes the greatest paradoxes of the global development. The world has turned to show that globalization remains an endless paradox - intellectual masturbation.

Learning to see cracks of the spirit. Noticing how it sparkles out there. It is not up to me. Unthinkable surprises, about to happen. Day one. What a revolution.

Nature is ancient.

A Self Portrait of You, By Me: Vision (J.E.B.)

A Self Portrait of Me, By You

X that I miss a bit more than I can stand.
X that surprises me within frames.
X I want to Yoga Master you!

I woke up today to find this from you. In awe. Feeling like I cannot wait for you to continue discovering me. Feeling like I want to continue discovering you. Like I want to stand in the desert and follow you everywhere. Like I just want to be around and continue giving you ideas and making you smile so you continue to produce work.

When I look at what you sent, I feel as though a very important moment in my life has been archived and depicted. I look at it with such openness. I look at it as though standing in front of a heavy yet shiny steel window that you cannot but help admire because it goes into the sky, into space, and it never ends. And you are tiny. And you are minute. And you are there. I feel like something truly special began that day and that I hope it never ends but rather continues finding forms, ways of expression, tones of humor, depths of soul.

Thank you for the self portrait, by you, of me. It makes me smile to only think about it. I melt when I look at it. What an honor. To find myself naked and split appart in several pictures by you. I wish you could take down my entire body and do it all. And plasmarlo over dolls. And plasmarlo over all kinds of realities. I wish I could meet you in a Roman Amphitheater, semi naked, and wrestle you and your camera. And then kiss you all over. That is how I felt night and again with you. Like I was just desintegrating and forming myself again. Ever different. Ever more interesting. And with angles that are new and I did not know I had before.

That moment, I kept thinking I did not want you to leave, I did not want the morning to end, I did not want an end. Having brushed my teeth with Paul's from Maine, just looked outside the window, pausing for something to make you stay. Then, you showed me the pictures. And I left.

I felt like we conquered what we met for. You discovered me. Actually, it happened all over again just now. It happens every time.

Your self portrait of me, by you, will lead to a self portrait of you, by me. And I love that exploratory road that will take us there.

I slept last night with your white long sleeve shirt. It smells like you. I felt like wearing it yesterday because I wanted to have you around. It did the trick. It looks like I did have you around. I miss you.

I Should Start Somewhere

I remember the moment? Is that a rhetorical question? Haha! You are so mischievous! I miss you. Haha. The "sweet shoot". Made me blush. Had I seen your grin, like the one on the day when you took the photo, ha, I would have turned red. I cannot stop smiling. That hand. Your blinking eye. The entire moment. It feels hot. Lustful. It feels special. It makes me want to see you right now to argue with you for a little as we used to. Or, to just grin and grin and feel nervous. That was a very special dinner. Amazing moment. It should repeat itself.

There is just so much to say after reading you. So much. I should start somewhere.

First, do not let the rain pour on you. If it rains, it rains on the world. If it feels like something is cracking, let it be the Grand Canyon, far away from you. Organize the ideas, draw a list of all the possible projects worth working on, the plausible ones and the implausible ones. Work on a list of 20 ideas. Let the old clients worth revisiting come in, let the new ideas kick in as well. Opportunities need to be found. For talents like yours, there ought to be plenty. I understand the concern and the crisis does not help. It is a busting place, the rain feels tougher than elsewhere, the drops themselves feel as asphalt sometimes. I am glad travelling was special, carry the feeling. Carry it. Do not let it fade away.

Second, I think it is important we continue to discuss follow-up ideas to the projects. You may have noticed how easy things could happen here. There is a problem though: information asymmetry. The local businesses crave for talent from abroad. They, however, might think they cannot afford it. I think, therefore, that it is important to go directly to all the sponsors with a brief presentation about your business and turning in credentials. Establishing contact with the trigger pullers and decision makers so you can be in front of them. Things here move from person to person. You land one job, the rest will follow. I assume the size of it will be insignificant compared to what you did before but still worth pursuing. Discuss this tonight.

Third, I am lining up a fabulous job for you, or some sort of job at least. Of course it is difficult, like for all of us, because this is ad-honorem or pro bono but if we prioritize the long over the short run I think this can turn into something outstanding for all. We ought to start finding funds to grow and organically develop as a think/do tank or a social movement. The impact this can have on everyone's careers is great.

I am doing well. The experience was important and relevant for me on many levels, as you know. First, it was the first time I arrived to anything in my life feeling that I was exuding my own self. No planned behaviours. No polished or pre-determined answers. No strategic methods. Just me. Plainly me. The results were powerful not only for the connections with everyone there but also because I was able to answer, somewhat unknowingly a big question. It is about authenticity. It was also important because only 6 months ago, I ended a period of very focused executive work, indoors, at a cosmopolitan metropolis. This period came right after 4 years of intense focus on academics, leadership, and just plain dedication to developing a name for myself in an intellectual and professional level. Ending that period and having the opportunity to gain perspective prior to going to study is outstanding. Chances like this will likely not repeat themselves. Second, the experience has yielded a fresh outlook for my volunteer time and perhaps later will become something bigger. I am trying to aim far and aim global. Hopefully it will happen. I am taking a risk because I am thinking of foregoing other opportunities to focus on bringing this organization to the next level. Life is about risks. It keeps you young, fresh, and so I will do it. Finally, allowing myself to be, allowing myself to welcome a surprise was amazing. I did not realize how lonely and inexperienced I am. Since leaving NYC, my main focus has been me, my personal life, what I truly want to extract from life, and I started setting priorities from a very visceral place for the first time. No calculations. I, however, faced so many difficulties. Felt lonely at times. Very much so. Felt like I needed to find something that will help me start a process of clarifying who I am. I came to Ecuador for that reason. Because I am from here and here is where it is toughest for me to yield way to the idea of thinking of building my life. That answer is clearer to me now. I know I can. Prior, it felt difficult as it would be sad sometimes, yet, it also felt like a very private and outstanding aspect that I was privilege to live. Felt like I was a chosen one. In the midst of all these processes and discoveries, this experience came along. It has answered so much. It has given me so much. The opportunity to be. In years and years, the opportunity to share myself a bit more than I have been used to. And the opportunity to find sensible hearts, who own a very special artistic psyche, who have gone through a lot and served to speed down many processes and let me just be present. So, what is going on is what distance allows. I do not know yet if there is that answer that usually lies deep down inside that you know it is going to work or not work out. I just do not know it yet. Feeling our way through the moment of life I am in. And, I am lucky. Passionate. Just knowing that it can happen to me, is great. Asking why I repeat that? Why do I repeat it can happen? I was full of relationships, etc. I had been. But not now. I am looking for more. For depth. For substance. For that kind of substance that makes it all timeless. Special. Propio. Anyhow, this is all over the place. In general, the entire thing is all over the place. I guess time will tell, as it was wisely said. I am free though. I like that.

I feel it is important I work on myself and continue walking the path towards me. Once I have walked further, I should have a better sense of my life's priorities and bring that clarity with me to X wherever that may be. I have been doing that and I do not want to let the process end abruptly after taking so many chances and taking so many risks. I want to walk that road. After that, who knows.

You just wait.

Executing on Happy

I am about to set sails again. I wonder where this entire thing will go.

I think it is good that the heart craves presence and inhales for someone and remains nostalgic about that energy. It is good because it is inspiring and definitely important. To realize that one is present and pulsating. As for the pragmatic answer to all of this. I just do not know. Distance, always creeping in and leaving one wondering just how much of a risk needs to be taken. Yet we keep on moving. Always transported to new directions. Wondering how to make it work. I guess time, again, will be the one to tell.

How are you? It was quite hectic here for me. I went to my farm with my family post the wedding so I just back to the city a little while ago. It should be a crazy week ahead. I have to get organized. It will be about executing well. I did not do that well at all this past week. The travel effect was a bit much and my mind was still on diving sites in oceans far away.

I want to be happy. Could not think of a better person to share that thought with.

Waking Heart

A long time passed. Out of touch post the New Year. Life got hectic. I left my prior location and it was extremely difficult to remain in touch. I craved for moments with myself. With no technology around. Away from everything.

Last year was a brutal year. Brutal in how raw it was. There were outstanding moments. There were unexpected moments. There were tragedies. There was triumph. Above all, there was a prolonged sentiment that the year was a turning point to a decade that was quite important and that marked important boundaries that needed to be thought of. Some of those boundaries shall be overcome. Others are perfectly built and shall remain as they were. In all, it was a year of tumultous changes for my psyche, my perception of self and my perception of outward self. I conquered, or at as least it feels as though I did, many cycles that had started in previous years and others that simply arose last year.

It has been a while since I feel I can write and sit as though I am present. With the lines of my body feeling the chair on which I sit. With the contraction of my arms leading up to the point where I press keyboards. Or when I am able to take the air in and let it out.

It was the time that I gave myself in December and then the one that I found deep in the waters of the Caribbean that provides this sort of acknowledgement and it certainly feels refreshing. I think I sought for empowerment when I truly did not need any. I am powered. I just needed to let it all arise from toes to joints and to fill every single inner part. I am here. Present. And it feels outstanding.

I got your voicemail shortly before leaving. I got that video of you in a moving boat that allowed glimpses of water to the left of your face. I got to see your eyes. They are incredible. They remind me of great moments. Thank you for thinking of me for keeping me present. I do, as well, keep you present.

Life is changing rapidly given this sense of momentum. Particularly due to a week spent in a remote island. 5,000 inhabitants. Only one road circling the periphery. And sun. And water, turquoise in all possible shades. Reggae beats. A rastafari diving instructor. A simple life. An experience that was organic. That did not feel paid for. That did not feel produced. Much like those few moments one has in adult life that are ecstasic in the absence of substances or stimulants. Just my body, changing, my mind accepting, and my spirit immersing itself into the depths of past and present.

It is awkard to talk about a trip as a turning point. Those tend to be outliers, and by definition, short-lived or remarkable points that cannot be easily repeated. This did not feel like that. It felt as a natural progression, just like my skin that started turning tanned every single day spent semi-naked under the san, just like my ability to sit on a beach at night and converse with armies of palm trees. All bliss. All natural, organic, self happening yet not self motivated. It happened.

So, I am here. Saying hello. Hello to everything that is in between you and me. Waking up and touching everything possible. The privilege of living this is something I am extremely grateful for. It is some divine luck and surmountable responsibility. I am ready, full on, to live and breathe and multiply any of these opportunities.

How are you? How is your soul? I remain intrigued, ever proud. I hope you are taking care of yourself. Seeking happiness. Thinking of places far beyond, sky high, were you deserve to be and to go always. Always higher. Always better. Thank you again for the waking heart and for keeping me present.