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.