No Threat

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One can sense the world out there, feel its pulse. It is at a high pitch and harder than ever to block out. I think the idea of peace is past and all we are left with is an unsure future of violence. It is right out there, the world about ready to erupt, one way or another. Even if it is just the collapse of America and the shake up afterwards. Life here in Mexico provides such a different view of it. Living in a country that is in peace provides a good background. Problems like Americas war on drugs and government disputes and frauds is minor when compared to a country that wants to take over the world and makes wars on it to get what it wants. Mexico is no threat, that is how it should be. America is the biggest threat the world has. Not only does it dominate Mexico over drug rules but it threatens to turn it into a nation of consummers dependant on corporations. The reason why Mexico has drug crime is because of the illegality of it, keeping it a major force and income for America. Mexico is still considering making drugs legal because of the sheer absurdity of crimminalizing what is a personal problem. It keeps the law enforcers busy with nonesense when they could be fighting real crime. It causes a whole underworld that dominance is being fought for as America continues to upset balances. It does not seem possible that one naion could be causing so many problems, but the closer you look the more you discover. Like a festering wound. Mexicans live like there is no government, while Americans are their government. Comparing these two countries makes Americans look ridiculous liars when they call Mexico corrupt. Which there is corruption, but nowhere near the scale of America. Its usually money matters, not killing and plunderint at will. I wonder if America will finish itself off fast or if it is going to take a long time, bit by bit Or perhaps an outside force will end it. The balance of America could be titled so fast and throw its over dependant people into chaos. It is almost like a contest, will they do themselves in or will someone else first. I should imagine it is like any dying creature, its weakness is sensed and then it becomes prey. Talking here with people who don´t know America is evil is knowing how far brainwashed they are. Perhaps if they could see themselves, they might come closer to being able to save themselves. But I don´t see either happening.

Spoken Plainly

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My family was here over the weekend to visit, they live across the border a ways. Amazing the border, just that line and so much changes, the view just takes on a whole other aspect, in so many ways. It was brought up in conversation with them, my family, that Hugo Chavez was undignified and distasteful to talk about Bush the way he did, even if they are against him. I think strong truths are not popular in America, they want them in shades that better match the trimmings of their minds. Everything broken down into something else, fragmented. What else should a pow wow of governements be for if it is not to tell the truth and expose the liars. The whole world would do well to shout America is evil and Bush is the devil. Perfect words and fitting concepts.

Mexico is more plain speaking than America, they do not pad their sentences so and are use to just simply saying what a thing is. I have learned from this to pick the simplest idea. Plain speaking. But this conversation happened over dinner in a good restaurant with good music with a family I love despite their American faults. I realize they are trapped within their culture so they can move smoothly to get what they want and go where they are lead to go. So I could not call them on their smug attitudes that Chavez committed a social sin by resorting to saying what he really thought. All I did say is I thought him a hero of the poor and that all leaders should be as honest in their attitude. But of course this brought a change in conversation back to childhood memories and what else to order next. Oh well, no sense to make war at the dinner table, its bad for indigestion, I let that battle be lost. But thinking back on it, I could tell, that was an adopted attitude, one they have been groomed for. That they could not accept the truth and the message behind what Chavez said and instead look down on him shows their minds have been manipulated to all think the way their government wants them. They cannot accept strong truths. It is easy to look down on actions, the American media told them to have that attitude. Its strange to watch people who have been so easily brainwashed. Why could they not have cheered Chavez for having the bravery and the heart to bring up something so important as the evil of Bush and his country. We need so much more of this.

No wonder I let this go over dinner, because now that I think about it, it makes my head ache that a society could be more concerned with their reaction of dislike for the way the message was delivered, than for the actual truth behind the message itself. Here was a chance to call out yes, yes, this is true, that is what this president is, let the world know it and beware, let our people see what the world thinks of him. Help us stop him. But all Americans want to do is just look down on this and belittle it. Which is defending Bush and all his evil.

Without Cars

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So many people in my area where I live here in Mexico don´t have cars, never have. I get to thinking about what that means and how it changes my life from theirs. It is simpler in that it requires a simple routine. Choices narrow down. Life must be lead less spread out. No major expense of it either, the freedom from the responsibility of a car. The bus to the last stop then walk. One can only carry so much groceries when they walk. These people walk past my house, I´m beyond the bus stop too, with my cars. There is no sidewalks, just a dirt road so everyone picks the easiest route between holes and rocks while the cars and trucks dodge them. I´m on a very steep long hill. Lots of traffic comes by too, they have to drive to the top of the hill to drive down the other streets as they are too steep and rocky to drive upwards on. My street is the best for that, paved almost to my house. No cars, no payments and they are walking to houses they own. They may not be finished and they might be crude but it is theirs. Sometimes modern man gets so stretched out in his needs and making life comfortable and good for himself that he looses it. Like he is always chasing it, while I see simpler people so very happy, content, and in place. One cannot help but wonder what all this drive to get ahead and more is about. Eat what you can carry home and most of your money for food. Base your entertainment around the life of your house. All those needs cut out. I watch these people walking, laughing, talking, smiling, you can tell by the way they carry themselves, they feel good about life. The further you go into being modern the more complicated it gets and the more responsibility. Simple looks in balance and very good indeed.

It Is Obvious

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The weather has suddenly turned cold, too early in the year, the day dark and unpleasing. I look at today's news wondering what paying attention to the details will bring me. I read the names, of the ones pushing oppression and the end, but for just a few of the star players I forget them. I much rather not get caught up in the game and understand the rules, and lack of rules, for it. Or who is who. I know America is a war country, I know its leaders corrupt and its society ill. I have a general idea of how their type of democracy was suppose to work and why it did not, and its obvious to the world that now it has been taken over and heading towards goals the masses had no idea were ahead. But I don't need to know their names or their lives or which one did something more scandalous than the next. People seem to spend more time finding out what is wrong than they do protesting what is wrong. When you read American blogs frequently they are like in a secret language with references to all kinds of people and obscure situations and odd comparisons. No wonder it is hard to understand, people can get lost in the confusion until their senses dull. I am sure all this is of importance somewhere but one need not know this and all the other things like it, to know what is right and what is wrong. Its very apparent that America is evil and in the wrong from just looking at the major signs. Knowing the details of evil is the job of some to fight it on the level they find it on, but knowing the truth, all one has to do is look at the overall view. Government hijacked, society sick, its people deluded and brainwashed, and, wanting to take over the world any way they can and use it for their own. Just this very obvious view of America should be enough for every person with hopes of a better future to be aware that it is something to fight against and be got rid of. Beware America, that is the message to spread, resist the Americanization of the world. Dark thoughts, dark days, how I wish the sun would just break loose of these clouds and warm me. I don't want to know to much, let them keep their details and I will watch the results, they are what really tells. Enough America for today, life should be good.

Litany for Dictatorship

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Litany for Dictatorships

A poem by Stephen Vincent Benet (1898-1943)

For all those beaten, for the broken heads,
The fosterless, the simple, the oppressed,
The ghosts in the burning city of our time…

For those taken in rapid cars to the house and beaten
By the skillful boys with the rubber fists,
-Held down and beaten, the table cutting the loins
Or kicked in the groin and left, with the muscles jerking
Like a headless hen's on the floor of the slaughter-house
While they brought the next man in with his white eyes staring.
For those who still said "Red Front" or "God save the Crown!"
And for those who were not courageous
But were beaten nevertheless.
For those who spit out the bloody stumps of their teeth
Quietly in the hall,
Sleep well on stone or iron, watch for the time
And kill the guard in the privy before they die,
Those with the deep-socketed eyes and the lamp burning.

For those who carry the scars, who walk lame - for those
Whose nameless graves are made in the prison-yard
And the earth smoothed back before the morning and the lime scattered.

For those slain at once.
For those living through the months and years
Enduring, watching, hoping, going each day
To the work or the queue for meat or the secret club,
Living meanwhile, begetting children, smuggling guns,
And found and killed at the end like rats in a drain.

For those escaping
Incredibly into exile and wandering there.
For those who live in the small rooms of foreign cities
And who yet think of the country, the long green grass,
The childhood voices, the language, the way wind smelt then,
The shape of rooms, the coffee drunk at the table,
The talk with friends, the loved city, the waiter's face,
The gravestones, with the name, where they will not lie
Nor in any of that earth.
Their children are strangers.

For those who planned and were leaders and were beaten
And for those, humble and stupid, who had no plan
But were denounced, but were angry, but told a joke,
But could not explain, but were sent away to the camp,
But had their bodies shipped back in the sealed coffins,
"Died of pneumonia." "Died trying to escape."

For those growers of wheat who were shot by their own wheat-stacks,
For those growers of bread who were sent to the ice-locked wastes.
And their flesh remembers the fields.

For those denounced by their smug, horrible children
For a peppermint-star and the praise of the Perfect State,
For all those strangled, gelded or merely starved
To make perfect states; for the priest hanged in his cassock,
The Jew with his chest crushed in and his eyes dying,
The revolutionist lynched by the private guards
To make perfect states, in the names of the perfect states.

For those betrayed by the neigbours they shook hands with
And for the traitors, sitting in the hard chair
With the loose sweat crawling their hair and their fingers restless
As they tell the street and the house and the man's name.
And for those sitting at the table in the house
With the lamp lit and the plates and the smell of food,
Talking so quietly; when they hear the cars
And the knock at the door, and they look at each other quickly
And the woman goes to the door with a stiff face,
Smoothing her dress.
"We are all good citizens here. We believe in the Perfect State."

And that was the last time Tony or Karl or Shorty came to the house
And the family was liquidated later.
It was the last time.
We heard the shots in the night
But nobody knew next day what the trouble was
And a man must go to his work.
So I didn't see him
For three days, then, and me near out of my mind
And all the patrols on the streets with their dirty guns
And when he came back, he looked drunk, and the blood was on him.

For the women who mourn their dead in the secret night,
For the children taught to keep quiet, the old children,
The children spat-on at school.
For the wrecked laboratory,
The gutted house, the dunged picture, the pissed-in well
The naked corpse of Knowledge flung in the square
And no man lifting a hand and no man speaking.

For the cold of the pistol-butt and the bullet's heat,
For the ropes that choke, the manacles that bind,
The huge voice, metal, that lies from a thousand tubes
And the stuttering machine-gun that answers all.

For the man crucified on the crossed machine guns
Without name, without ressurection, without stars,
His dark head heavy with death and his flesh long sour
With the smell of his many prisons - John Smith, John Doe,
John Nobody - oh, crack your mind for his name!
Faceless as water, naked as the dust,
Dishonored as the earth the gas-shells poison
And barbarous with portent.
This is he.
This is the man they ate at the green table
Putting their gloves on ere they touched the meat.
This is the fruit of war, the fruit of peace,
The ripeness of invention, the new lamb,
The answer to the wisdom of the wise.
And still he hangs, and still he will not die
And still, on the steel city of our years
The light falls and the terrible blood streams down.

We thought we were done with these things but we were wrong.
We thought, because we had power, we had wisdom.
We thought the long train would run to the end of Time.
We thought the light would increase.
Now the long train stands derailed and the bandits loot it.
Now the boar and the asp have power in our time.
Now the night rolls back on the West and the night is solid.
Our fathers and ourselves sowed dragon's teeth.

Our children know and suffer the armed men

Just Thinking

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Today is one of those days I don´t care to think about America. I like to just feel being here, in Mexico, simple and easy. It feels like the load is light. I am so glad that the government is not so oppressive and so dangerous to its own and others that it weighs on me daily. I would hate to be part of what is happening across the border. Which reminds me, the wall. America is building a 700 mile wall along the border to keep the workers out and its going to cost billions. It is so backwards. Lots of contracts were handed out over it, but of course, the whole border scheme is a money maker. There, now I have thought of America again, when I did not want to. How quick life can slip into reminders of it. Like yesterday, finaly I find out what this huge buidling is that is being built, about the biggest I think I have seen here. It is a Walmart. It was like staring the enemy in the face when I realized, made my stomach turn. The thought of it kind of crept along with me all day, another battle lost. But today the weather is such, hot sun, clouds, cool breezes and quick little wind brusts, that it just sort of blocks out what does not fit. I have been out preparing soil in pots to make new spring trees for my property. I plan on staying here forever so I will get to see them grow up, such a good feeling, looking at a tree you planted. Life can be so simple and so good, just into the right flow, everything fitting, working all towards the way you want it. But one is lucky if they have control over their own lives, it does not take much to give it up to a source, like government brainwashing. You could just walk into a store, not knowing all its vile and viscious history, look around and decide that there are so many things you want that you never had before. So easy to hook people into the more more more system. I try not to think of America on such a nice day but when I come to my blog and confronting the outside, I know my time here is best spent with the forever message, Beware America. One can really not say that enough, not even when they are in their own little almost paradise and could so easily leave it to the rest of the world. Well, I think I will wander off and go back to not thinking about the Evil America and have a good rest of the day.

About Getting Along

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I think the reason why everyone can't get along is because they are arguing about the technicalities. They might all be pretty much going along in the same flow, but all they see is their own view of it. I am talking about what is called The Left. Instead of banding together and finding their similarities they separate while guarding their differences. It seems arguing is the method to convey ones information and that the important thing is that your own view wins out. Like a competition, verbal war. How much more progressive if we could use peaceful ways of telling each other our beliefs, if it is peace we are truly trying to achieve. All The Right needs is one popular leader and one set of plans and they are all lined up and following, no need for thoughts of their own. The left just drifts. Why do people have to pick out views and make them theirs and think they are the ultimate and defend them? If we are to believe in differences then why can't we accept differences in how we head to the same goal. Away from oppression and the Americanization of the world and towards freedom. We should learn to get along with those who share this direction and build our strengths, not divide ourselves. It seems peoples attitude is a cross between a bar room and a battlefield and the event is on. We must learn peace with each other first, if we hope to spread it. Save the arguing for the enemy, put up the fight there, hate what they stand for, while our forces gather and spread. There is a lot to be said about getting along as a method to straighten things out.

Shame on America

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Americans have lost their sense of shame. For some reason they remain proud of their country and think their system worth fighting for. You would think everyone of them would be ashamed to be part of such a nation and live from that feeling instead of thinking they deserve it all. They are all part of their wars, sacrificing their children to them. They run off of fear and greed and ignorance. They could have the truth but everything about their system tells them to ignore it and they do. They are even allowed to criticize their government so they can pretend they are not the bad parts of it and still feel good about themselves. War is so much a part of their lives they easily accept it as a necessity to maintain what they have. Living at the expense of other lives is truly evil. They think that they are not part of the rest of the world and separate beings that should have more and better. They have been brainwashed to be so sure of their superiority that all else looks like a bad imitation to them. Their very lifestyles are a rape of the world. Why when there is such damning evidence against them, can't they see they have become the worlds worst enemy. They are an enemy to their own selves and do not yet realize it. The so called war on terrorism has made them a target for revenge. They tell the world, we are sorry about our president, next time we will vote for another, so it will all be ok again. Not knowing that from the first white man to step foot on this soil, that wrong has been done and continues, a nation built on these wrongs, climaxing out to be the threat of the world. America needs to be stopped, totally dismantled, turned into something harmless and let the world go on its way and see if peace can develop without the head warmongers looming over it all.

A Sunday Song

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Click

Another Freedom

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Back to the subject of building my house. I have been thinking of how wonderful it is to build whatever one wants, no limitations. It´s that kind of neighborhood here, no rules, just as long as you stay within your boundaries. One can build a tarpaper shack or one can build a mansion. It is your own business and no one judges. Here on the streets of my village all kinds of houses in all stages can be found. Rich and poor, one after the other. One stays in their neighborhood as they progress and just builds more. The tarpaper turns to block or wood, the block gets plastered, the wood painted, sometimes in months, sometimes over many many years. Its stages of growth. One of the best parts, the most wonderful, is that it is all paid for as you go. No payments, all yours. Just let your imagination go with what you can get and build whatever you can.

I have outgrown the first house my husband built here. It was always just a temporary one, even if it did last ten years now. Now the next is growing up, and again I think of how fortunate the freedom to build what you can and want is not taken away like it is in America. Americans have to build their houses like they are worried who is going to live in it next. Everything is rules and regulation and threatened fines and shut downs. One must build for the neighborhood. The loss of being able to start small and keep adding is a great one. Having to build it all complete to some idea of perfection make affording it a horrible obligation. Here, one can just live in one room, then add the next, building with what comes up. If you are poor you can receive land here, or for very little buy a piece and then start. The poor always have this chance. To be able to have a home is what is wanted and anyone should have that right to a little land and a little shelter. A country like America leaves to room for the poor, only those who want to make it on a larger scale. But one cannot get rid of the poor by outlawing what they need to do to cope.

I have no idea how long it will take to build my new house, all according to how money and time come in. Since it will be red bricks it will be easy to build slow and in stages, waiting for the right windows to come along. My imagination roams all over when I think of sun shining thru glass, so many possibilities.

The Paper Game

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About a month ago a new person moved into the neighborhood. The old man, Don Jose who is one of the original people in this area, he has rentals now that he is older, well past retirement, but still likes to work. So this new young man rented one from him. It was to be $800 pesos a month, but when he saw the visiting mothers car, which was almost new, he made the rent $1000 pesos. Don Jose always charges according to the ability to pay. Which is wise. Being very many young men in this neighborhood he was near unnoticed by my husband or I until just yesterday. As he, Tommy, walked by the fence that runs along the street on my property, he paused to ask for work. There are workers here, so there was no work, but a conversation started. It switched to Egnlish very soon, which is unusual for here, not to many speak it where I live. I was quick to notice his English was better than his Spanish and asked why. And then he started on his story, his past. Born in Mexico and brought to Long Beach California at three months of age. That was the last time he was in Mexico, unil now. His mother is a waitress and had several more children on the north side of the border and a new husband. He was brought up American style, enough money, enough luxuries, enough plenty. The first summer after his high school graduation he made a mistake, like youths can often make. At the wrong place, wrong time. On the way to go play ball, three friends decided to break into a house they saw the neighbor leave. He had no nerve for it and debated out front waiting, but to late. A squad car pulled up, the boys inside ran out back with what they stole and escaped. He being out front, like a target was easily picked up and taken away. Being a true Mexican, he would not tell on his friends, so instead of being given a light sentence he received two years in the state penitentiary at Lompoc. This is something his mother would remind him of on her visits. That she was the one who came, put money on the books, and would be there for him when he got out, not his long gone friends. He wasn’t ready for prison, he had been a good boy, not to experimental, stayed away from drugs, just a little marijuana, quite sensible. The stay there hardened him, one could tell. At the end of his jail stay, upon release he was suddenly taken to Mexicali, Mexico and dropped there late at night from a bus. He was told just before leaving his papers were not straight and his Mexican birth made him not a citizen. They told him next time he was caught across the border it would be five years in jail, for any reason, even just living and working. So he got a job picking asparagus and learned what hard work was. He has kicked around a lot since then. Just recently on Saturday night on the way walking home from a job, he had bought marijuna and some groceries. The police here stopped him, took both and all his money and told him to run. He said he never ran faster, he did not want to experience Mexican jail and the cops were smart enough to know he did not need to either. He has been here three years now and is almost twenty two years old. He has improved his spanish and definitely learned quite a lot of the ways of the land, necessity taught that. He misses his family and his college plans, but his safety here is more to him and his family then his being with them up there in such a dangerous for the innocent country.

Choosing Ignorance

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Remaining ignorant when truth is available is a choice that many make. Pick and choose what fits into your belief system. Americans and many others are comfort seekers and do not like disturbances. Part of being American is wanting to be looked up to. Americans need to show off who they are. They think they are superior and it is their job to enlighten the world with what they are. Here in Mexico Americans are looked at as being naive and blundering, without bad intent, for the most part. Americans are so sure of their selves they do not see that there are other ways that are not theirs, not just people being wrong. Americans do not see they are being laughed at and being tolerated.
Americans see themselves as helpers of the world and take this to heart like it is true, that it is necessary for their make up. When you point out to an American all the evil their country does, they say, yes but what about all the help we give. They hang onto this image like it is their own and when anyone tries to show them other views, they become immediately defensive. It is very sad, but Americas better side only serves as a smokescreen for the much worse that gets excused or hidden. These people hold on to what they themselves are and want their country to be that way too. There comes a time when what a country , or a person, does gets looked at as a whole, not its various parts. America is an evil country, it abuses the world and itself. American people respond to power, not truth, and whoever has the most power sways them. They can exist with the truth available to them, but never really let it enter their reality. They keep it outside themselves. They are aware that their country has done some very wrong things, but they grab hold of what they see as what it did right and use that for an excuse. Ever shifting their view to the more acceptable. Remaining ignorant, that’s how the American is able to be proud of his country and think it will succeed.

Living your Beliefs

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For so many, what they live, and what they believe are two different things. Many do not live their beliefs, only hold them inside. Making thoughts and goals of them. Not realities. They may make good companions, but beyond that add little, especially to the outside world. Many would do different if they could. But most of those would not, if it meant a sacrifice in another area, like security or ease. They would rather keep their dreams conveniently out of reach. Why change when you can stay the same. America is a nation of just such people. Ideally probably quite a few of them do not want to be killers and wreckers of the planet. And even a few try to live in balance in a land that demands imbalance. A society sickens when its better part must be stifled down, even to each individual, so they can live with the shame of what their country does, to others and it´s own. What of the so called caring, to have the leader of the nation you proclaim to love, the head of a mob of power hungry murderers out to rape the world. They cannot divorce themselves from what they do not like about America, it is as a whole in what it does, it is the outcome that counts, the results. Each adds up to what it is. In America, you cannot live as you believe, or you must believe in the wrongness of it. It is a nation that makes you live a lie. And freedom always strangles when you lie.

I live my beliefs, I always have. I feel it’s the only way to live, by not compromising them. Its lead me on an interesting and very meaningful path. Putting principals first. There was a time when America appeared worth saving, but that was just an illusion. It has been doomed from the start. Just shooting up on violence and greed until its topped itself out on it. Exposed its insides for what they are and now no ever hiding them again. Only for those who willfully hide from the facts of their country so they can live what is known as the good life off the illgotten gains. America is past its time, as a nation, but as a force it sweeps the world in its corruption of society and methods. Even if one leaves America, to do the right thing, they must always fight Americanization, wherever it is. America the country, is nothing but a quick experiment in history, all about ready to finish its change since its fall from belief. One should love their life, but not such a country.

Tagged

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It is my way to not fill out questionaires, and I don´t like playing games, but I do like books and enjoyed reading what others answered. So today, I decided to add mine to the rest of those "tagged". Thank you Redwine.

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One book that changed your life?

My great grandmothers Grimms Fairy Tale Book from her library. So big and old, musky smelling, full of illustrations and strange tales. I had to sit on a special chair to read it. It took my imagination.
One book you have read more than once?
The Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy. Now and again I reread it, among others.

One book you would want on a desert island?

I would rather write a book in those conditions, than read one.

One book that made you laugh?
It seems most books make me laugh for one reason or another, but I think the author that amuses me the most is Charles Dickens. That is who comes to mind at the moment. I rarely read a book that is written for humor. And suddenly I remember The Horses Mouth, by Joyce Carey, that definitely made me laugh.

One volume that made you cry?
Cry the Beloved Country by Alan Paton. I read this when I was little more than a child and I remember crying so much.
One book you wish had been written?
An impossible book, the history of the world and mankind as it really happened, with all the missing pieces.
One book you wish had never been written?

The Bible. I wonder what would have evolved if that particular book had not come along at the right time and become so popular.

One book you are currently reading?

From Indian to Chicano by James Diego Vigil, I just started it.

One book you have been meaning to read?

I have been meaning to read a book by Chomsky, perhaps the one called Hegemony and something, I forgot. He seems to have made an impression and should also be explored. But I have not gotten to it yet, he seems so American and so dull.

Something Nice

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I always think Sundays are good for something special. This link is to some music that impressed me.

Beautiful

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Sunshine raying down from clear skies early in the day make the world seem beautiful. I try not to think of those who cannot feel it from lack of choice. I just have to get out and stand in it. Today it makes me want to feel the earth in my hands, so I garden. Touching the soil is like getting your hands in the tortilla dough, so basic. That and the sea air, so big, so full. What is government, or for that matter, the world, as I stand here in my own. They only touch my mind if I call them up. There is beauty and life goes on. I wonder what humans part is in it. The great undoer? What of people who walk out their door to ugliness, do they have to look for a curbside tree, a glimpse of sky crisscrossed with electric lines. Open their curtains but only to see their neighbors windows. View is so important, not just mental, but visual. One needs to feast their eyes so they do not hunger the brain for want of beautiful. You could see a bird on a branch and make it into a picture that tells the all. And you could see the world unfold in front of you, every splendor revealed and not notice if your not open to it. Beauty. This fresh air just washed over me, tingling the senses, the bird sounds clear and carrying. Do people forced from their homes, walking homeless to a destination they never wanted, do they see the beauty along the road and feel relief from it, or does it only mock them? Sometimes beauty can make you ache with it, its so powerful. Sunshine picking out each object, like everything counts. Some don't care about beauty, although it is hard for me to believe. Their souls must be shriveled, their minds drab and flat. What if prisons used beauty to heal and soothe their inmates. They must be so deprived of it that healing what wounds brought them there is near impossible. I think of office and factory workers too, slaves to the indoors. The mind can feed off of beauty and grow to keep taking in more. One needs a beautiful view to take part of and it has to be replenished as often as possible. So many ways to make things beautiful. I am now going back outdoors, to take in just a little more and forget everything but that. Late summer.

On Your Own

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It´s a warm morning with a cool light breeze. My island, I call it mine because it is in my view, drifts in ocean haze yet. A white blot on the horizon, a cruise ship departing on its endless rounds, full of paid for a good time people. I was down there yesterday, on the beach that is out front here. Next to the harbor and its breakwaters is a little strip of beach land that the fishermen are taking over, just right above the hightide line. Sand and rocks and small cliffs behind. Sometimes it becomes apparent that land has no owner holding it totally legally and that gives the edge to move in on it and make it yours. This will be the fourth jump I have seen on property on the ocean front. All these places are where a boat can be launched in good weather. The first, Puerto Nuevo started out like this one here twenty years ago, a few shacks pieced together and being lived in and worked from. Puerto Nuevo is now rows of streets with seafood restaurants two stories high, one after the other, souvenier stalls and liquor stores. (what more does a tourist need?) As I sat on the cliffs above these little shacks started here, watching a fisherman mend his nets I am struck by the freeness of his life. This shack is wood washed in and brought in, a couple car hoods, various tarps and plastics, dirt floors and carved out dirt steps leading to it. The kitchen is outside and has a place for a wood fire and a refrigerator grate to cook on. He has two homemade stools and a chair without a back around it. If he can hold onto this property perhaps someday he can get papers for it, if not it is his for now, free of charge. It’s a life that’s been there time on end, fishing, just like his ancesotrs. Living form the land. His movements are so practiced, his space so well used, so inventive. I could smell the fish he was cooking. I know that type, he would have invited my husband and I to eat gladly if we would let him. Perhaps next time, and I will bring some tortillas or bread for it, maybe some beer to wash it down. It is a wonderful thought, to just pick a spot, take it and use it and make a living from it. A country that allows the poor a place and a way to make it is a good thing. Some countries the gap is so wide the poor must just stay where they are at. No way out. I have seen the poor get free land and make it into something and sell it, buy more, and go from there. Some have got very rich this way, using their wits and starting at the bottom. Tonight as the sun sets I will go back down there, to watch the progress and see what the catch of the day is. I think it might be one of those pinkish grey sunsets, slowing fading into the ocean, the colors all subtle and soft blending in with the lapping of the waves. The ocean has been calm.

Contentment

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A Point To Ponder

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A boat docked in a tiny Mexican village. An American tourist complimented the Mexican fisherman on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took him to catch them.

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"Not very long," answered the Mexican.
"But then, why didn't you stay out longer and catch more?" asked the American.

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The Mexican explained that his small catch was sufficient to meet his needs and those of his family. The American asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

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"I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, and take a siesta with my wife. In the evenings, I go into the village to see my friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs . I have a full life."

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The American interrupted, "I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat."

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And after that?" asked the Mexican.

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With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers. Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise."

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"How long would that take?" asked the Mexican.

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"Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years," replied the American.

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"And after that?"

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"Afterwards? Well my Friend, That's when it gets really interesting," answered the American, laughing. "When your business gets really big, you can start selling stocks and make millions!"

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"Millions? Really? And after that?" said the Mexican.

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"After that you'll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends."

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And the moral is:Know where you're going in life... you may already be there.

World Americanization

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It would be good if what is bad about America was just in America and theirs only. But America belongs in essence to the world now, it is no longer just the country, it is the process. Americanization. It happens all over the planet, in perfect imitation or in its own form.

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America sets itself up to be a world leader when at heart it is rotten. They have no good intentions first. What good they do is just to make an opening to slip in the bad as easy and as unnoticeable as possible. They even try to disguise their wars of greed for capitalism by calling it stopping the terrorist and saving the world. They peddle their image to the point where many across the world think it is the goal. It is frightening to see a nation of people narrowing their minds and lives down to a useable stroke and all the while thinking it is freedom.

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America is at fault because it projects the image of success with the average citizen having so much available to him. It makes it look like their way is the good way, the way to get what you want. And people know what they want because they watch tv and ads and see all that there is, and its price. What is really a life of all fitting the one mold leaves them with no facility to see what they have lost. And what they have lost is so much, almost what it is to be human, an individual, instead of a number working for wages and living to support a government. They have possessions, and that can look good, lots of new shiny things, and they have positions, safe and secure and they are told this is success. Not realizing true success is within. America stifles creativity. All gets reduced down to the same boil, the same tune. And so, in order to have this success one looses all but the process.

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It is the saddest thing to see the world turn the way of America. Greed, capitalism, fascism, militaristic, radically religious, many many bad labels. It is a way to enable the rich to get richer and poor stay poor. And to make every poor mans dream to be like the rich and all his goals to strive for that, or live in failure. The signs are easy to recognize, the turning to self, the disintegration of the family, learning as entertainment instead of thinking, lack of manners, changing the diet to unnatural food, idolizing the rich, living in debt and letting oneself to be so easily brainwashed. Among others.

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A future where the world resembles America is like giving up on mankind. Living for what's next, instead of what is. Each little wedge of Americanism anywhere in the world is a defeat, a loss to society and man and his potential. Americanism is a world disease and spreading like a plague.

So Much of It

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Learning and discovering about the world was a different thing before the rot of America cracked open and came oozing out all over the place. So much news about America, dominating everything, even ones attention. It makes the globe look like a target of conquests and oppressions and defeats. Watching America as it crumbles and exposes itself one sees all manners of horrors. War as a business technique. Torture as an acceptable method, selling weapons to anyone that will buy, pushing bunk religions to fit the newest cause. It offends the senses to have to realize the depths of their depravity. They have even turned learning into entertainment so no one has to think. Consumerism and capitalism. Global warning and waning resources. America is right in the forefront of all of this, paving the way, joining up with those that will go for it. Their government cares for nothing but their greed and this uncaring filters down to where it has dissolved the family unit. No one cares anymore, you can see torture victims and dead babies, that’s just the norm now, thanks to America. People using the name of their god to excuse what they do because he is on their side. Their Hollywood putting out mind trash and their news propaganda. Even their diets turn against them with their fast foods and overeating, turning even mealtime to disgust. America seethes with a sick hatred, a hatred of each other, of the black, of the brown, of the white, the yellow, the different, themselves. They don't hate the crimes of their government, they overlook them in order to overlook their guilt. The more one looks at this country the more one sees the worst side of humanity. One should be aware of all there is one can be aware of, but must one learn it from the glare of the atrocities of the Americans continuously. Why do I see the torture photos in my mind, I knew torture was wrong and I was aware that it is used. But must I have it spread out all over as a daily event as I wander thru my news sources. Must America continuously bump up against my sensitivity until it gets use to horrors. These things should not predominate what a nation does, but what America does fills me with disgust. I wish my mind could go back to where it was before all this finally erupted, all those thoughts of the wrongs that can be done did not collide on the surface and push up against the meaning of everyday life. America is a blot on the existence of mankind and a wound on the mind.

Ramblings

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So many things on my mind this morning as I do what I do at this time of day. Working, playing, drifting, thinking, habits, chores, attention, distractions. So I pause a moment to sit before this screen and try to capture it. Floaty thoughts, hard to grasp. Wondering about the world. This computer brings it to me. I see life, all around me, I'm right in the middle of it, but the world and its details is something that has to be fished in. Hunted for. No TV no radio, no papers, this is it, besides word of mouth. Here I see not just that which is reported and commented on, the news and information sources, but also the blogs and personal sights and posts. Strange way to look into someone's life. I read of a woman who hurts because she wants to love her people and her country and cannot, because of what she finds out about them. But her love is still there and suffers so. One could heal the world if one could harness that force and spread it evenly. She loves humanity now, and our earth instead. The dogs are barking, cowboys on their horses going by. It's a gray day, dripping dew, all is damp. The horses shine with it. Going to work on a horse down a dirt road. A little hay instead of some gas. And I turn back to the computer after gazing down the road after them. Reading now what the ones that think they are the intelligent ones of the bunch think. Amusing how many ists and isms and ites they can get in one sentence. A constant proving of their realm. I wonder what the cowboys were thinking, I could hear them laughing, laughing with the goodness of life. My dogs bark so much, but no one cares, it's just dogs barking, so what. They keep checking the fence lines, ever curious of what goes on, open to it, as I sit fading out from it. My mind once again picks up the question of how a woman can belong to an organization that claimed to be against pornography and then use it for her humor. Just recently she was worrying about one thing leading to another and now she seems to make no connection between her crudeness and what she professes to be against. Where does disrespect for the sexual and private really start? I think of the cowboys again as my dogs start to settle in and slow down. American women have a reputation for looseness and are not respected here, although treated politely. The easy hugs and kisses, the touches and the pats, bold laughter among those you just met, looking into peoples eyes prying. It makes me glad I am who I am and not that. A quiet buenos dias from me, when one tipped his hat as he passed the gate. I think of people that I can respect, its mutual. Then I read a poem from India, some days there are new ones on this site. I reread the one about women, and feel a feminine hurt. Why do cultures suppress us so, how does one escape. A man answers her back and feels his guilt, how beautiful that it touched him so. So special. I wonder if the cowboys have wives and how they treat them. I've known these type of women, been in their houses, shared with them. So accepting, so into their role, mother, wife, housemaker. Here come the dogs, to settle back down around me, secure in that all is fine and waiting for the next alert, the cowboys forgotten. I look back on my screen once more, turning to a favorite site for bits of a book, poetry and offerings on life. But once again, no new post, only the lonely girl on the bicycle on the empty tracks. I suppose waiting for the writer to come back, I have grown to quite enjoy him. And I realize, the day is moving on and so must I. I put my thoughts of what my screen brings to a distance in my mind and watch the sky as the sun tries to make its breakthrough. Time to get busy, I suppose.

My World

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It's time to be thinking of my new house again, money is coming in this summer and perhaps there will be enough left to build some more on it. The foundation was put in ten years ago, but nothing much but plan after plan has happened since. Which has been good in some ways, because those plans have slowly thru the years developed into the ultimate house plan. I've lived in that house for years now in my mind and walked around the rooms to see how they will feel. I even know where the furniture will go. I set out there on the empty foundation right where it will be gazing at my so fantastic view. Actually, it's one big room. 26 feet by 36 feet. When I get that done, I will put another little room on the side for the bath and laundry, I don’t want any walls dividing up that big space. I'm putting a wrought iron fence around the bed area, waist high, to keep the dogs off it, but it wont close things in much. I want the feeling of a large area around me to stir around in and feel the space. The red bricks for it were delivered quite a few years back when an American brick company here failed. They were little more than the price of delivery. So they wait, along with the tin roofing that came at a tremendous bargain. It will have styrofoam in the rafters to stop the heat and cold. All this is carefully thought out because it is what cost the very least and is available here. True, the house won´t last down thru the ages but it will last my lifetime. All the windows will be second hand, which I already have collected up much of. I don't have the front door yet, it has to be really special because my last houses ended up with having no real front and no real front door. I might even get a doorbell, but I don’t know what for, as it sits in the middle of my land surrounded by a chain link fence. Very private, all the passing people see is the backs of my buildings. I dislike front doors that strangers can come up and knock on and you have to open to see who it is. I like to keep them waiting at my big iron gates, greeted by my dogs.
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So, maybe with luck I can bit by bit have the cement poured for the floor, how solid and good that would feel, I could sweep it. It feels so good to spend so little on it, make it so simple. So much waste can go into homes, I don't like big houses, lots of rooms. And besides, I like to see my living in front of me, all gathered together, not divided up into walls and doors. My kitchen will be in one corner, where the view looks towards the sea and mountains. Galley style, small and efficient. I don’t store much, so I don't need many cabinets. Just one big floor to ceiling pantry for whatever ends up in there. Simple living is done best in simple lodgings.
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I'm not sure what I will do with the storage shed turned house I live in now when I move out. Maybe give it to the dogs, or maybe rent it out if times get harder. It is very small and does not face the view right and it is not really finished up either and a little sagging to one side. Once your in, its harder to work on it. But it is always good to have extra buildings, you never know what could come up. Like the work shop building, it just keeps growing and sheds pop up all over for one thing or another. Then there is the little house for my mother too. That is all completed tho, she likes things that way. I don’t mind living in an unfinished reality, it sort of keeps things open. Time sure slips by, ten years so far here, I am always so grateful I can look out my windows and see the home I will have someday. No sense in getting in a hurry, life is plenty good in the inbetween. And one of the nicest things, it's all paid for as I go. The property paid for too when I bought it at a very affordable price. I can't imagine living with payments to meet, what a loss of freedom. So I anxiously wait to see the worker and my husband stir up by hand those first bags of cement to put in the far corner where the view is best. I will have to get an umbrella.

How Would You Know?

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I don’t get much communications with Americans, and when I do they interest me as a slice of what that society is made up of. Today two have been brought to my attention. The first, Patrick Henry, a rather clever writing young man, which he shows off to his best effort here on his site, psychic head. I gave a brief answer on his comment section but felt more was due his efforts. Plus he has been good enough to comment on my blog, the July 6th post, The Consumers. He brought up several good questions, ones quite commonly asked. I will post that here in its entirety because I felt it an important exchange. Good things to learn.

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Patrick Henry: You point out things which may or may not be true, depending on your point of view. What do you suggest to fix the 'problem'? If America is so bad, why do the citizens continually send money and aid in the form of food, clothing, medicines, time, etc. to less-fortunate countries? Every one of your posts and the Far-Left Queue talk about how bad America (the U.S.A.) is and unfair to the rest of the world. From reading your posts, it appears there are more personal issues with you than you admit to your readers and possibly yourself. It is easier to blame and denigrate than offer solutions.
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My Reply: Hola PH, good questions. I don't think there is an ¨Answer¨ to the¨fix the problem" question, as you suggest. To many problems, to many answers. For myself, my part, I live simply, by choice. You ask about Americas gifts to the needy. In order for America to pull off its atrocities it must have a front. Not just for the world, but for its own gullible people to swallow. Give some hand outs one place and destroy another, or do it at the same time and place. It's the method. Take what you want.
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My blog is about Evil America, so of course that is what I write about. I do it for people like you who are interested in another view, one not available to them. By the way, Further Left is the name of my other blog, The Far Queue, a very talented writer about all life. But I do like the name Far-Left Queue. I am sure there are personal issues, admitted or not, but that’s not important here or what I am here for. Its not a confessional diary, just a simple blog on bad America.
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All I can do is set an example by my life of how it should be and pass on my truths and views for others to draw their conclusions from. Which you seemed to have done. Don't forget to keep an open mind, there is always more to be learned than what you think you know at the moment.
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And then the second comment directed at me from the ever attempting humorous Elastic Waistband Lady: Papi has his own theory about La Zatikia, who was born in America, by the way. He speculates that her Mama was knocked up by some sleazy white guy, likely during a one night stand, and she holds all white men accountable for her abandonment and neglect as a child. Of course, Papi's opinion is purer than yours or mine Patrick, because of his brown skin and Spanish accent.
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This one represents well one of the deep problems corrupting America. The descent of their societies, and in particular women, their minds into their gutter. I have found many American women to equate equality with the ability to talk foully. It is a sad approach. A shame they cannot see how bad they make themselves look with this kind of talk. It degrades women worldwide. But that is the trouble with America, so much of the small stuff they do harms so much when it is done on such a large scale. No wonder family falls apart there and their children turn violent and brought up to be soldiers for the cause of more more more.
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And it seems like maybe Papi´s skin is getting a little whiter and his accent a little less the longer he stays in America, he should not have left his heart behind.
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So, that is today's lesson for me on The American Way, if you can't speak the truth, make up a lie. That goes for both my new American followers and their words dedicated to me. Thank you both for proving my opinion.

Why America?

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America, America, the words I have heard echo thru all my travels and all my stays. What else could this mean but the United States of America. The people are called Americans, they are known by no other title .United Statesians, USA ´ers? If asked their nationality, they must reply either where they are from or say American. God Bless America. This statement was meant to mean United States of America, certainly not the rest of the continent, being that the Americans have their own gods that bless them. When speaking of this country one has choices of what to call it. But somehow saying, The United States of America is to much of a mouthful. Just like Mexico, its real name is United States of Mexico, but no one says all that, just simply Mexico. To call it by initials, The USA, is easy, but just a short cut and not a name. To say The Americas means the continet and its countries. That one country took the name of all does not mean it does not still belong to the others also and just as much. But say America and what comes to mind is the land between those over guarded borders. A name of a continent, north central and south, the name of a country, and the name of a people.

This is the way it seems to me and why I call it America.

The Consumers

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Is it wrong to benefit from wrong? Can an American live in luxury and not be part of the guilt of his country? They think that disapproving their government in words excuses them. They can hate their president and they can be against their wars but of what use that when they still go ahead and live the life style. America is a land that is perfecting it for the use of the rich. A breeding ground for the greedy and privileged. Their whole system is geared that way. And even most of what they call their poor are rich in comparison. It is only the ones that could not fit this system, that fell out of the direction of it that suffer from want. Follow the rules and go along with the rape and ruin of whatever it takes to make it go and they have it made for themselves. Talking bad about their country makes them feel good. Good because it changes nothing, just the continuation of their greedy needs. Most actually love their country and are proud of it and themselves. How can a nation be proud with such a recent history of such violence and deceptions that still contaminates so much. What they love is their possessions and their security. Even in their prisons they are taught to be taken care of. Always this dependency that their government creates to keep them trapped. Their lifestyle is extremely out of proportion to what a person can use compared to what our earth has to give. If everyone lived like Americans the world would already be used up. And daily, they just consume and consume, like there is not end to it. They are a nation of fat people worrying about eating to much. Their minds are taken by what they can get or do next when they have not even paid for the last excursions into excess. And these people, the Americans, they feel it is their right and they complain it is not enough. Worshipping their rich and imitating them. Living on credit, like life is a game. These people have had their minds arranged since birth and all the processes after to think of themselves first. The brainwashing trick of narrowing their view down to what they want and who they think they are. They don’t see the world suffering, only in faddish conversation, just to be able to say, see, there I do care and I read the headlines too, I know everything. But they don't really care, they are too dulled by what they have become for that. If they did care the burden of the guilt such a nation should really feel would crush them. If they really cared they could not so consciously overindulge. They would not be proud of their stolen name America, it would represent the oppression and the horror it really is. They would hang their heads in shame, or raise up and revolt and refuse to live the good life at such a price. America is an evil place, and benefits from that rot a persons soul and mind. You can see it in the corruption of their society, of their family. It is a sick country, at the brink of its demise. Yes, it is wrong to benefit from wrong, just watch America, and you will know that to be a truth.

Keeping the Balance

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My brother brought me down a new set of dishes, they are very nice to look at. I did not need new dishes, mine are fine and I like them very much, collected from all over, so many colors. But he says its always good to get something newer and besides, they all match. And my birthday is next month and he had to get something. I went to put them in my cupboard and the dinner plates are wider than the shelves. He says his dishes are that big, but they fit. His wife had him put in new cabinets on the last kitchen remodeling especially to hold this newer bigger size. They give the message you need to make more food to fill them up. I like small meals. I picture fat Americans with heaped plates, eyes shining, lips parting. These dishes will be hard to get use to, I can tell. More more more and always bigger. I am lucky I am poor and can't afford cabinet doors yet, so it does not hurt if they stick out. I am wondering if I should make more coffee in the morning, so the cup does not look only half full, kind of stingy. But I only like so much coffee and that’s that. Oh yes, it's not a cup it’s a mug. Such a descriptive word. But perhaps I should not complain, because I too benefit from American excess. It is time for my brothers windows to be changed out to the latest type. His new ones will be so much more efficient, and they really do look like wood. He will bring me down the old windows and I will store them for my real house I am going to finish building out there on the rest of my property. Someday. Provided they don’t get the glass broke out of them from storms, rocks, dogs and various accidents, like the windows from the last time he replaced his. I've noticed its hard to care for windows when they are not in the wall. But I will try, free windows, that’s nice. As I sit here writing this and wondering about it all, I wonder how well oversize dishes will store.

Shopping Trip

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I went to the grocery store yesterday. A little bit more money than usual had come in and I had $500 pesos to spend anyway I wanted to on supplies. Its called El Mendado here, the weeks supply of groceries, when you can afford that much, or the days supply when that is how you live. That’s where most of peoples paychecks here in Mexico go to, food. It had been a while since I shopped in a store of any size, this one being not one of those that is a threat to mind and body upon entering, but a medium one. Calimax, there is a chain of them here. This one is right off tourist row downtown, but they stay to their own street, so very few adventurers come in. I skipped the fruit and vegetable section right off, since I buy fresh from the Indian vendors who set up on the street corners in my village. Then on to the dairy section. I picked out some milk, since the carton was almost empty at home. No cheese because I buy goat cheese from a neighbor. I checked out the yogurt, but the flavors sounded scary and there was no plain. I didn’t get any sour cream, which I use on vegetables instead of butter because I already had one I got from the little market a quarter block down from me. It has one aisle and a big refrigerator, unlike some of the smaller stores here where you stand at the window and point what you want. Then on to paper supplies. I picked out colored napkins, that was a treat, I don’t use paper towels but I found a new bright green sponge. And then on into the canned food section. I put four cans of beans in the cart, then took out two, how many can beans can you use when your use to making your own. Noticing that I was a good deal of the way thru the store and had hardly anything I went up and down this aisle again. I found canned whole tomatoes that I could use in case the tomatoes were to ripe from the vendor and I did not want to buy them, I could still make what I was going to. There was such a variety of salsas I finally decided on three, one for the bottle and the buffalo on the label, the other because it was so inexpensive and the third because it was what I used anyway. I didn’t bother with the bread, tortilla and cereal row. Cereal always reminds me of cow feed and I don’t like it. I prefer fresh fruit and bakery products. I go almost every evening to the bakery right down the hill from me to buy hot rolls, whatever is just out of the oven, and fresh milk. And every morning an old man pushes a wheelbarrow by with fresh tortillas, so no need to leave the house for them. This being a modern store it had its meats already cut and packaged on display. I dislike this type of meat and distrust where it came from. I go to a meat market where they raise the meat themselves and you just tell them how much you want. And the rest of the time I buy fish down at the harbor or the fishermen on their way home. Then I went thru the store one more time, just because I was there and thought I might as well make the most of it. I bought a brand of soap I never used before, it was on sale in little buckets. Buckets are useful. A jar of mayonnaise, although I had not run out yet and some mustard, which I have not had in years. Not sure what I will use it for, it makes me think of hot dogs. At the check out stand I received about three fourths of my money back. So still feeling rich I tipped the old man sacking groceries well and the old man guarding the parking lot. That was nice. Maybe if I don’t go broke before then I will have the leftover money still to use next time I want to do a shopping at the big store. It could last a long time this way.

Animal Shows

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I went to the dog show yesterday. They are still quite rare here. It was put on by Aquas Caliente, the famous dog race track here in Tijuana. It and all the other casinos are owned by Hank Rhon, the mayor of Tijuana. He is an animal lover. His office is filled with animals, parrots and monkeys, dogs, big cats. And at his race track he keeps enough animals to be called a private zoo. Lots of them are gifts and rescues. There are hundreds of sheds and stables and barns. But its not set up like a zoo, its all very casual and you have to explore around to discover all the types. I was noticing how just common chain link fence is used to keep in the lions and tigers, I thought it took more than that. My husband and the worker and I were walking between two rows of cats that seemed to be mostly sleeping. Then half way down we came to a cage where one leaped up and charged the fence and hit it with his paw. Suddenly the next cage four tigers crouched and acted like they were creeping up on my dog, staring at her. All three of us ran back down the narrow dirt path and far from those cats, terrified. But my dog was never scared, I suppose because its in her heritage to hunt jaguars. She got her championship papers this time around, next she will go for grand champion. I have always had strong feelings of revulsion for "beauty contests" and a heavy dislike of dog clubs until I moved to Mexico and learned to see another side of this part of the dog world. Not that I have changed my mind on the American version, I still compare it to Hitler and his master race. The fact is, breeding weaknesses into dogs in order to maintain certain looks is a crime against nature. And of course America has taken this love of dogs and wanting to maintain them and taken it to far, so far that it is a menace more than anything else. But here in Mexico, all this is brand new, this pride in a dog and realizing its worth. I support these shows in every way I can. It is a civilizing factor for a people to learn to respect animals. When a person can care about the suffering of an animal it makes them so much more aware of the suffering of mankind. It develops a side to a person that enables them to look beyond themselves. When I first moved here to this part of Mexico there was no dog food. Most dogs were just fed tortillas and scraps and left to fend for themselves. Now, over 25 years later all the markets sell dog food. Even the little ones in handfuls in a plastic sack. There use to be one vet only, he was very old fashion, now there is a dozen or more really good vets and a vet hospital. It makes a child different growing up being good to animals, instead of immune to their sufferings, or causing it. I think this is a really important thing and that is why I have always worked with people and their animals and am in that field now. Being in touch with animals opens the mind and leads to a better life. It has been very satisfactory seeing these improvements here.

News from Venezuela

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The post below is from a relative, just back from Venezuela. It shows a side of this country not often seen.

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Venezuela is so relaxed. When was the last time you EVER thought you could relax around cops?! The Venezuelan military [all over the place] are young men and women from the barrios who operate like the Peoples Liberation Army did in China in the 1950's, 60's, 70's. They talk to people, help people carry their groceries; place telephone calls for you if you look the slightest bit confused. They are the ones who went and got President Chavez when the right wing kidnapped him from the presidential palace. The army parachuted onto the island off the north coast of Venezuela where he was being held. Now this is impressive. They had to go get the plane, etc, etc.
We traveled around in the interior of Venezuela for two weeks, on a bus, stopping at places our guides chose, lived in. The communes we visited were cooperative villages that are now self sufficient, completely, and they make things for Cuba, other nations and give quantities away. Cuba sent 20,000 doctors and Venezuela is just seeing their first graduating class of doctors coming home from Cuba.
We heard 7 women speak about their group of 14 who one day went and took over a middle class medical clinic, with machetes! They went in and told the rich doctors to leave. Loud but productive conversation. And THEN they phoned the military for back up..
We went to a chocolate collective. Same family that has farmed this land [42 hectares] for 350 years. It was a slave colony originally. What beautiful Black people, just awesome. They speak English, French, Spanish and Portuguese, and Creole. We saw cattle that were a cross between local mountain stock and French Brahama cattle; very hardy; very good looking; docile and well adapted to hot climes.
All the dogs look the same; wild type. Hogs, chickens, etc, have all been improved for high yield. The farms have small lakes that supply water everywhere. Can't make big lakes [but there is a huge one in central Venezuela] because the hard rains wash everything. It has the highest rainfall in the western hemisphere
Oil: Venezuela is building a pipeline from their oil fields/refineries, to Buenas Aries. The oil will be exchanged for other products; no even exchange expected.
When Haiti recently inaugurated Rene Preval as President, a tanker of Venezuelan oil, which had pulled into their harbor the day before, was unloaded. The Haitians don't have to make any payments for 2 yrs., then they have 25 years to pay for it, at 1% interest. that's a gift.
We visited a factory, really a commune, where shoes and farming clothes were being manufactured. We saw 10,000 boxes of work shoes ready to be sent to Cuba. Venezuelan people have health care in their neighborhoods. Every few blocks there is a brick round house, with a visiting room on the first floor and above is where the Cuban doctor lives. He is on call at all times; does workshops every day about preventative medicine.
I saw maybe 10 old people during the whole trip, other than the bunch of oldsters who were part of the tour. Dengue fever, yellow fever, cholera, malaria and those are just the ones I know about. Not a place I could live, I don't think. But the Venezuelan people we saw, in many towns, were healthy, not over weight and hard workers. The teenagers were awesome: attentive, helpful, hard workers, proud of their lives.
Venezuela makes their own trucks, buses, motorcycles, bicycles, all motor driven things.
Oil: Venezuela is cleaning up that huge lake in the interior, that the oil companies from outside, for years, had just dumped in. The govt. is lifting huge barges that just sank when they couldn't travel anymore; finding barrel graveyards and bringing these things to the surface; filtering escaping oil eddies, blown by the wind.
We were there when the World Social Forum was happening. Went to a workshop, featuring about 15 speakers over a few hours, giving views on how to build examples for extracting and refining oil in an environmentally considerate way. It's not new science; the govts. just have to make the effort.

I´ll Never Return

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"I'll Never Return"

By Meena (1957-1987)

founding leader of

Revolutionary Association

of the Women of Afghanistan (RAWA)

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I'm the woman who has awokenI've arisen and become a tempest through the ashes of my burnt children

I've arisen from the rivulets of my brother's bloodMy nation's wrath has empowered me

My ruined and burnt villages fill me with hatred against the enemy,

I'm the woman who has awoken,

I've found my path and will never return.

I've opened closed doors of ignorance

I've said farewell to all golden bracelets

Oh compatriot, I'm not what I was

I'm the woman who has awoken

I've found my path and will never return.

I've seen barefoot, wandering and homeless childrenI've seen henna-handed brides with mourning clothes

I've seen giant walls of the prisons swallow freedom in their ravenous stomach

I've been reborn amidst epics of resistance and courage

I've learned the song of freedom in the last breaths, in the waves of blood and in victory

Oh compatriot, Oh brother, no longer regard me as weak and incapable

With all my strength I'm with you on the path of my land's liberation.

My voice has mingled with thousands of arisen women

My fists are clenched with the fists of thousands compatriots

Along with you I've stepped up to the path of my nation,

To break all these sufferings all these fetters of slavery, Oh compatriot,

Oh brother, I'm not what I was

I'm the woman who has awoken

I've found my path and will never return.