Keeping it in mind

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Sometimes I feel it slipping. My hatred of America, my horror of it and my disgust. Here in a country where life is good, freedom is real and principals still count it is easy to forget the corruption that is right up there just north of my border. The border is a festering scar, but better a separation from America and its creeping ways, then wide open to their total abuse. Open it for work, but don't jeopardize the Americanization of this country, what has rubbed off already is destructive enough. But this is not my life, I don't live this, this view of America and its underhanded murdering ways must be searched out. They try to hide their dirty truths behind words of brainwash and glory to their gods but if you watch a little, add it up, its real apparent. But why should I care, my life is good, I live good, and where I live is good. Is it because I was born in America and am angry at my own people, or perhaps because an evil of that scale overpowers the whole world and is a threat to all. Reasons can be so many.
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I feel hating America is something all caring people should do. Hate evil, what else is that emotion for but to cause an abhorrence. To think that hate means killing, revenge, acts of destruction is wrong. One can hate calmly and cleanly and deeply and do nothing more than feel it and voice it. It is a force that is in humans to use and to be told we are not allowed to weakens us. So does turning the other cheek.. America should be hated, and that force, like love when it is used right, will build and overwhelm if let be. Hate without evilness. If we do less than this for a country that is murdering people daily for their own money driven agenda than we are part of that evil.
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So as easy as it would be to just slip into the goodness in life I must retain a part of myself, to give my hate to America or I have failed to take a stand. I think about it now, that land that has warred, murdered, raped and destroyed for what it has, never changing, always evolving into something worse. My constant hope, may it do itself in with its excesses and let the world move on.

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"So many gods, so many creeds,so many paths that wind and wind while just the art of being kind is all the sad world needs".

--Ella Wheeler Wilcox, American poet, 1896

The Event

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Sunday I went to an event here, east of where I am, inland in the valley of Gaudalupe. It is known as the wine country now. Dia Del Caballo , horses, art and wine. A great combination in beautiful surroundings. A big ranch in the middle of grape vineyards out in the middle of nowhere. Two thousand people showed up. Even tourist bus loads. And they all came down the miles of narrow bumpy dirt roads and had to follow the map of all the turns till they finally got there. I'm not use to crowds so the noise that many people make surprised me. We were under Arabian style tents, maybe they hold the sound in. My booth this time had my puppies in a big pen with hay, they looked so good. I felt sort of overwhelmed by all the people wanting to look at them and waiting in line to get information on them. I even sold one of my book to an elderly German couple who did not speak English very well. When I wrote the book, it was my first, a practice one and I based it on my own life, because that seemed easy enough. But now I must tell people when they ask what it is about that it is about my life, not just a story. Sort of an exposed feeling, but I can't think of anything else to say. I still can't get use to the part they want me to sign it, it never really comes to me as what to say.
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One of the best parts about the event was the way the Mexicans were dressed. This was an event for rich people as it cost $20 to just get in. Women's cowboy boots come in so many styles, and so do their hats. And the men had on shirts with horses and ranch scenes and pearl buttons and huge, really huge, belt buckles. The children too, all decked out like modern day cowboys. Then there was the Indians in comparison who looked like they rode in right out of history. The performers on the horses had on traditional outfits, the big sombreros and spurs, pants with silver buttons down the legs. Flamenco dancers in so many colors and their hair done up in combs and shoes with taps. There must have been five hundred tables spread out all over with people drinking wine and eating all kinds of food cooked up there from all the food booths. Drinking but no drunks.
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This event was to benefit the children here with downs syndrome and I donated part of my puppy sales to them, so this felt good too. These children came and looked at my puppies and I let them hold them and have their photos taken with them. It was strange to see how they took to each other.
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Such a positive day with so many beautiful sights, even nature put on her display of such perfect early summer weather. My husband and my sixteen years old worker and his two eleven and twelve years old brothers were with me. It was very wonderful to be able to witness this and being part of it we were there from early morning to sunset and did not miss a thing. I even got to seem my friends the Indians, down from the hills selling their baskets and artwork, and that is very special to see them always.

Viva Mexico, life is so good here.

My Nightmare

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My sixteen years old worker brought a movie tape to me yesterday to watch. My husband gave him a video machine for Christmas and he and the neighbors trade off tapes all over the neighborhood. This particular one he said is very popular. The Day After Tomorrow, I think that is what it was called. The tidal wave over New York looked very real and I admit it was exciting seeing the statue of liberty drowning but the best part, and the reason to be watching it, is when all the evacuated Americans make a run for the Mexican Border. This few minutes was an attention getter here. Hoards of pushing shoving rude Americans demanding entrance into Mexico as their own country failed them. Ever since Americas nine eleven day I have had this fear, this mental picture of that very thing. Even dreams about it. They would be coming here by the thousands, for one reason or another. Seeing it on a Hollywood film was very visual. And then nature herself added to it by being a heavy cloud cover day here and so very unusually cold and then an unexpected storm in the night. Wind and rain from all directions, very violent and mixed right in with my dreams. The thought of America come this way in a panic is a very bad thought because I live only 75 miles from the border. Americans don't like to hear no for an answer and feel those who have less than them have less rights so I know how they would be acting. Sometimes Hollywood predicts future truths just by following where things will likely lead. I sure hope this time it never comes true. All those Americans, so many of them, living out what they helped to cause. I'm glad I don't watch movies hardly ever and sleep better because of it. Even though moving a lot further south might be better, you never know.

Adaptable

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Being an American in Mexico makes for a life where you are always aware of the fact that you are different. Even in the midst of discovering how alike your are. Eventually one becomes not really an American, but not a Mexican either. Drifting in a rather free spot somewhere in between. Between cultures. It is a good place, if your not looking for confines. It is good to shed what is not really you, but just a nationality, leave it behind. I think I would always choose to live where I was different, its very good.

It is true that I am like most of my neighbors, just trying to live day by day. Unlike almost every single American here, my husband nor I bring in American money thru some American source that is sent to us. Americans don’t come here to work, not unless they are high up in some company with a very American wage and a very American place to live. In the 26 years I have lived here, we have had to work for our living. This has been the great experience, hard but what made Mexico open up. Living it as the people do, the daily struggle for existence, the challenge to make it. On the inside and competing.


Being close to the edge lets you look at life closely too, there are few disguises and smoke screens. One of the better ways to make a living in Mexico, as many do, is to have many ways to do it, flexible. One can really be creative and free this way, doing what can be done at the time. It is important how we make our money, since most of us seem to have to take a lot of our time to do that. This process, making a living, should stem from what you do in life anyway enhanced to the point where it makes profit. One needs to like what they do or they are compromised. Money made from regretted effort can spoil that which it touches.


It is good to live in a country where one is free to be poor and free to enjoy it and free to choose what they like best to survive and free to be not one thing or the other. So much space.

Blogging

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My mind keeps wandering back over a post written on a blog I enjoy reading. Its about writing blogs and contact. There is such a difference in presenting oneself to people between here in cyberspace, or face to face in many ways. All we have is our thoughts, flowing down from our minds sorted into the order of our words methodically typed out on a screen to send off. But that process perhaps distills a clear stream for many. Whoever we write as, here in cyberspace must be one of ourselves, so then much is according to how divided we are. Some fool themselves thinking they are doing it to fool their public. Which is more real, that within, or that without when you are looking at yourself? Talking in person with people supports so much more complications to hit on reality and not get side tracked. Here we are communicating more to ourselves than anyone else, the audience becomes vague in the effort. It can be very personal with no one to face, no personality in front of us to bounce the words off of and watch and listen to responses and judge opinions. We can just sort of rattle loose inside ourselves. Provided we look inward, but some only see what others might see of them, the cover, and they work on that. But for many, the cover is all they are, so this is true too, the act.
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And as to knowing people here, we can know them, if we are selective. But like anywhere, if we collect them up and try to put people where we need and want them, it will be disaster. This space should be an extra one, to further oneself, not a means to fill a hole that has always gapped. Peoples essence comes through, you can feel them, and if you don’t let your needs get in the way, you can tell who they are. But like in life, friendship is rare and a gift when it does come, internet or not. If a person is honest with themselves it comes through anywhere. Writing on blogs makes another extension of ourselves and we can make that as meaningful or not, as we desire. Its all according to what you want to fill your life with.

Bad Man

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Put a Stake

Through Freud's Heart

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Asia Times Article. I like this article on Freud. It holds many of the same opinions I have of him, so naturally I like it. I never can understand in a world were enlightenment is available how the majority of people sway towards someone as off balance as this man was, and still is. The mans mind was twisted and he made a lifestyle of it, a way to see the world. Sex and drugs sell though, so this could be a reason for his popularity. People tend to stray away from thoughts that one should guide oneself and that the power comes from within, not from who you follow. What if we were not followers but found our own paths and realized our own truths. There would be more room for harmony because real truths are simple and the natural conclusion to come too. So many false leaders and people hanging on their distorted words, trying to force them on what they do not fit till all is obscured. How can we live right if mankind allows themselves these views of men who could not even solve their own problems and became obsessed with them and passed that obsession on. I am glad to see such a fine article detailing the crimes against balance of this man and his followers. I hope many that should, read it

The Book Event

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I took my book to the American book fair Saturday. It was a book signing for the authors who live in my area and write of Mexico. I am trying to sort out what to think of the whole thing. Beautiful resort right on the ocean and lots of plants and flowers, exotic. A nice place to launch my book, along with the cyber world. An American event, and I noticed that alcohol was a major theme. A full bar, wine tasting booths and in the evening tequila tasting. I don’t drink. I could tell they were getting very tipsy towards the end when I left early, loud and friendly and they have an odd way of making jokes right off and your suppose to respond in kind. Which I never learned how too. It was my first full on gringo even in 25 years here, so it was kind of like culture shock. I observed them.
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My husband has many ways of making money here in a country that is hard to make money in. Unlike most Americans, we must make our living here, no other money. If one business is lagging usually one is doing ok. So my book booth was more then just my book. It is also an information booth on these and our friends businesses. What was interesting as we passed out this information in an attempt to attract new customers, I was selling them a book that will offend them most likely. A little to much talking bad about Americans, although its very mild. Courting them while bashing them. It should be interesting to see how they react. The worst they can do is not give us our business, and who cares, it's just money.
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I had to sign the books that were sold, I had no idea what to say, so I simply said, enjoy and signed my name. I think I should have dated it, but did not think of that until today.
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I have noticed this before. These Americans are Animal Lovers and into animal rights. It seems like all of them are, like a fad. They worry over the street dogs and the worse the condition the more they get into the description and the disgust. They take great pride in finding these dogs and healing them. They form organizations and clubs. It sort of has a religious feel to it, their belief in it making them better people, like atoning for some American sin. Killing people in Iraq and saving dogs in Mexico, such an odd people. They don’t do that much for their own homeless on the streets. Some dogs just don’t have it so good, that’s a fact.
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But back to book, it was good to sell it, that’s what I wrote it for, to help make a living here. Next book though, I don't think I will hold back and just tell the more digestible stories, there are much deeper truths to reveal.

Prison of Nationalism

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It is hard to tell where one leaves off what they left behind and becomes not that. I feel my roots, they can't be transferred even if my mind and body are elsewhere.

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Schooling, it clings. Held captive. Threats on parents you must have your child there, or else. Everyone must get brainwashed, no child left with a clean mind. It is more of a process of unteaching what you naturally learn, than teaching what you need to learn. Hard experience to shake off.

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Left when I was seventeen. I loved the orient, I saw life is whats around you, and that’s so changeable. A few visits and stays back where I had left served to remind me it was not real. False life, empty lies of America. Then Mexico, 25 years now. So good. But I'm still me, but that is good too. But all of it is me, so I am American, in parts. It is sort of like a crime, but sort of like a victory, to overcome it. A lifetime of seperating it. Can one escape oneself?

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I confess to being a proud example of what I am not. I have been thinking all this week, so full of boycotts and demonstrations, of what it means. This singling out, pushing down, putting aside, of one type over another. After all, we are just all people, so what.