Recently I've been dreaming about
Mexico. It's actually an encompassing experience/definition that I
have of Central America, but mostly it pertains to Mexico, my
experiences there of. The closest word that comes up is “freedom,”
which is kind of silly because most of the time I just seemed to be
on the move/run, plotting how to make money, have fun and get away
before anyone caught on, before I wore-out my welcome. I was always
convinced that the longer I stayed in one place, the more likely it
was that someone would recognize the manipulation, reasoning or
rezoning behind the facade innocence. Looking back, perhaps I was
innocent, perhaps I just thought myself slick, and that I didn't
really get over on that many at all. Perhaps the boarder patrol,
army, Federales, etc., simply realized that my crimes weren't crimes
at all, but standard procedure – getting by in an corrupt abusive
system. It's interesting, even today to go to a third world country
such as the Philippines, Mexico, India, and now the US – lol, and
see how wealthy the upper class really is. As a foreigner and
someone for whom role-playing and manipulation always come easy –
as long as there was something in it for me, it was always really
easy to get in and see how the upper percentage lived. Quite often,
the next day I would find myself en el campo con los campesinos
(peasoants). Without a doubt, I had always felt safer and had more
fun on the ground with the poor than I ever did in the air with the
rich. With people who have nothing extra to give, it's always clear
where they stand by what they do give, and that's real giving. This
dream or the likes of it that I occasionally have wherein I’m with
my car, the open road, the fields and people I meet, the smell of
adventure and the allure of freedom/escape; it's like my mind is
trying to rationalize why I would care to give up that kind of trip
for this, a journey of words. It's not that my experience on earth
has become better or worse, it's simply that I’ve begun to see and
hear without the interpreter. I watch how dogs and other animals
communicate; no words are spoken, yet the say themselves. Imagine
how live would be if we simply turned our the words, perhaps then
we'd see.
- I forgive myself that I had accepted and allowed myself to project onto Mexico and Central America an idea of freedom, and within this not see, realize and understand that the idea of freedom I created in my mind was just that, an idea as in a polarity of confinement/work/commitment. Within this I now realize that, as I had judged times/experiences such as working, going to school, etc., as negative, so too would I end up having a definition as positive/freedom. In this I commit myself to no longer allow myself to define myself as an experience or anything else.
- I forgive myself that I had accepted and allowed myself to not see, realize and understand that the key to living is in/as the words themselves: live what you speak, and speak what you live. Within this, I realize that thoughts that are not immediately spoken/lived are a waste of life.
- I forgive myself that I had accepted and allowed myself to not see, realize and understand that the key to being is not in/as seeing, but in/as being one with all that is here, and to be one with all that is here is to simply stop participating within and as that which is not here – mind/energy.
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