07 julio 2016

Roots

Tonight I've lost a member from my family. The man who used to trick me and take candies out of my ears. That guy, with his incredible white hair, white mustachio and cheeky smile is gone from this physical world. He showed me what protection, authority and being right means, we were never friends but he was a wise man with unconditional love and enthusiasm.

As a young teenager I couldn't understand many of his reactions, points of view and values. As an adult, from the distance, I faced seeing him changing into a completely different human due his alzheimer. He lost weight, changed his smile and stopped seeing us as his family. Another human was around us. 

A little while ago, when I went back home, I've visited another incredible woman and I saw her in the middle of her storm that was also affecting my mum, auntie, dad and other members from my tribe. Things were too overwhelming and it looked like everyone forgot how to be friends. Couple of months after she left, the end was way too real and painful. There were no 'us' at this time, we were too disaggregated focusing in what make us different.

I was not there when she passed away.
I did not give any support
I was too busy suffering from my own harvesting.

Oh Fuck, I'm angry. 

I've been playing around like a mellow, pseudo hippie dude traveling the world living in another country while my family disappears from this physical world. 

Too busy without any root
focusing my energy to the wrong people
waiting for the wrong reasons. 

The illusion of being lighthearted and emotional just makes more selfish everyday. I devoted my time in wrong episodes and I've ended up extremely sad trying to move myself away of disgusting muddy scenarios too many times.

My only strength is to smile, to be playful, trust in everyone and shine. I haven't learn how to be strong. I'm too weak and sensitive to deal with the real shit. 

I have sorrow. I need a shared silence and unconditional support. Perhaps my family, perhaps stop complaining this bad, raw and shameful perception of reality and act like any other adult with a strong shield.

I would like to see my family right now, cry, speak on my mother tongue for and trade my wings for some thicker roots.

09 mayo 2016

Volver

Mientras más escucho, más aprendo
Mientras más hablo, menos sé
Mi voz es una trampa al viento
Reflejo de lo que pereció.

Cuando relataremos la historia no contada?
Qué sabrán Las cuerdas vocales de los sonidos desconocidos?
Serán ruidos? Accidentes? Epifanías?
o
un obstruido respiro en la silaba?

24 julio 2015

Tres

Every day, every month and every year there are new ways and stages to go through. Some of them make us to step aside, overcome situations or feel the joy from what we built.

It's been 3 years and two months since:
  • I left my country
  • Learnt a new language to survive, love and share
  • Worked in all sort of things: Pruning vineyards, Supermarket, Recycling centres, waitering, housekeeping, gardener, etc
  • Visited other countries like Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay, Vanuatu and Samoa
  • Learnt how to drive.
  • Learnt how to play other new instruments.
  • Learnt more about my profession by starting a whole web environment in a creative studio.
  • Decide to be an immigrant instead a traveler
These things are now part of my basement, they go within my breathing, my most instinctive thoughts and moods. However, I am angry at myself and everything that is around me. Reason why I stopped writing and started doing other thing to release my pain like
  • Running
  • Watercolour painting
  • Hiking
  • Cycling
  • Trying to be part of a rescue team, 
  • Playing music in public places
  • Performing with the two bands I am part of

It's fucking really hard to express my feelings by thinking in two different languages. Most of the things I do are often in such a slow speed.  I can't think as quickly as I want. I can't react as quickly as I want and therefore I do mistakes.

I have to say that I have no problems at all rather than my loneliness. The list above highlights from my most personal (non-shareable) activities to things I do to get in touch with other people.

Couple a days ago I went to a retirement village to play my hang drum to seriously really old people, and the experience was beautiful, scary, weird, sad and overwhelming. Going through the corridor and seeing in between each doors was a big journey. Some of the room were empty, some other with people trying achieve a dead simple task and others with people just watching TV. Before start talking about the good conditions, the fact that they have soft drinks, wine, a good size bed and everything I want to talk about the other half that is also important: Dead.

Yes, why the fucking hell we make our life so unfair and hard. I felt so wrong seeing everyone in their room, alone, with a fucking television as feedback from an outside world. We have been created inside a woman's belly, we feed ourselves from breast feeding and we learn how to talk, laugh, observe and build shit by imitating each other. If in every single important moment of our life we are connected to other humans within a system, why do we ever end up like this? Don't say that we all die alone because that is another topic.

Every single wall with its thickness, every curtain hiding the wind from outside and every television with its noise made me feel disappointed and more lonely that I am.

After finishing walking through the corridor, all in not more than 5 seconds because I was rushing to get to the main room to play I sat, I played djembe for a little bit and then I unpacked my hangdrum.

I played for about 15 minutes. I felt how relaxed people were. how grateful everyone was and felt love from those old shaky and shivering smiles. Some of them fell asleep, some others tried to make jokes about it showing their inner spontaneous personality. Some people smiled at me and clap their hands and some other asked me a million questions.

I felt useful, grateful and happy enough for being part from a little moment on their life. No one was the champion, no one was particularly the best, it was not a competition, nor a race. It was pure synchrony, like the moment when we understand big ideas with just a few words. After looking at everyones eyes I left the room with my head full of happiness, questions, inner smiles and complex emotions.

So here we have the two sides of the coin, this 20 minutes stories lasted on my body, memory, back, arms and therefore mind for a undefined amount of time.

And this is how I have been dealing with my loneliness. By trying serving other people with music, food or by listening them I feel away of anger.

Often I visit people without notice so I visited my friend from the Netherlands, a 70 something years old woman who owns a craft shops and the conversation was something like this:

- Oh hello Miguel, how are you? did you find a girlfriend yet?
- Hello Emma!, No I haven't, how are you? Your shop is looking beautiful.
- Thank you, oh well, it will come one day. It's very hard to be out of your country.

From this point she started a conversation about her life:

- I left my country at the age of 18 and I had nothing here in New Zealand. I came with my sister and left everything behind. I have 7 other brothers, plus cousins and a big family.
- I thought you came with your husband. I replied.
- Oh yes, he was my boyfriend by then, but he came months later. It's hard when you are far away from your family. But now I am a root, I have children, grand children, and great grand children!. Now I have it all.

I have nothing to say at that moment. I just kept looking at her eyes and I smile. Every movement from her face was telling me a little bit more form her history. Every blink was probably a memory from a long adventure. She finished with nice words, some cheers to my family and a big hug.

Well, this with what I am doing now. Getting used to a new language and place. Learning shit that never thought that was going to happen to me. Getting used to the decision for being an immigrant instead of a traveler. Feeling naturally happy when I can serve and learn from others and feeling naturally angry and disappointed when I don't have the people I love.

Accepting that I am not happy with my life right now is helping me to understand things that are making me happy in my journey.

I am lucky and strong enough to choose the people I want to share with, the things I am adding to my live my life in the meantime and the things I want to change in the future.

The impact for being rejected, replaced and alone so quick, it's something I don't want anybody else to feel. I do not want to die in a retirement village finishing my days watching televisions, writing a blog, being alone and think what I think right now. I want to keep on growing my strengths to grow a family, friendship, culture and my skills to server others. Because I can't be happy if I am not reflecting my inner light in the other people.

Well, this is just my english-self. a 3 years and 2 months self that never ever visited these dimensions before. I am not looking at any approval, that's boring. I actually find some expressions like 'good on you', 'good for you', 'I'm happy for you', 'it's something you need to do' very basic and patronising. I am looking for more words to hear, more games to play, more silences to share, more hard-work to do.


13 abril 2015

Silvestre

Perdí la practica de escribir. Dejé de escucharme por un tiempo, por mucho tiempo. Pensar en inglés inhibe mi habilidad de divagar y transitar por las sombras de mi aliento.

La practica entró por los talones, subió y se sentó en las rodillas por un par de segundos para admirar el panorama, llegó a las caderas, manchó el corazón y subió hasta el cuello apretando la garganta. Bailando con la agonía, secando el barro con lágrimas
y descansando en el movimiento continuó
y llegó hasta la cabeza
y apagó el sentimiento.

No me reconozco ni en el cansancio. No me sorprende inhalar. El camino que se presenta como la unión entre la pausa y la partida se adueñó de mis diptongos.

Los balcones de mis sorpresas están traducidos.

El rio suena,

El lago presume sus olas con el viento. El mar.

Los dedos no saben como bailar en el español.

El sabor de toda esta nostalgia me hace sentir,
tal vez,
en casa.

Mi corazón ya no olvida la aduana, el origen, el destino, ni la ilusión del volver a casa.





30 octubre 2014

Catarsis

Entonces un día, detenido en una banca entre arboles gigantes, el rio, el viento y la lluvia me dije a mi mismo en catarsis, yo no merezco vivir esto. Luego me levante y me fui. Llovió como nunca antes, me perdí, divague y me diluí.

Mi cuerpo emocional dañado necesita para sanarse los cuatro elementos en armonía.

El agua para curar las heridas, el viento para llevarse el dolor, el fuego para quemar los restos y la tierra para poder bailar, cantar, hacer musica y vibrar.

29 enero 2014

Taking yourself off the pedestal.

Una de los estados mas importante en el viaje es el encuentro con uno mismo, con las virtudes, defectos, miedos y sueños hechos realidad.

El proceso de encontrarse con uno mismo es un proceso complejo, es el lugar donde nos sentamos a un lado de nosotros mismos y conversamos, miramos el mar juntos, el sol, las nubes, hablamos de las emociones, los dias y la luna llena.

Creo que en este punto la perdida de la aparente valentía juega un papel importante. Porque es gracias a ella que dejamos de ser rígidos, orgullosos, rencorosos. Así, nos volvemos menos expectantes, más ingenuos y espontáneos. La perdida de esta infértil y sedentaria sensación es la que nos devuelve a nuestro presente y ese amor por compartir con los que se cruzan por nuestro camino.

La valentía como resistencia y aguante como en todos los seres vivos siempre termina cayendo, quebrándose, desintegrándose y volviendo a la tierra.

Cuando nos movemos dejando atrás nuestros bienes materiales y parte de nuestro ego y nos volvemos un poco

más

simples.




12 noviembre 2013

Hoy

Hoy volvi a tener un sueño que no se me repetia desde que tenia unos 19 años. Estos dias he estado recordando muchos episodios de mi niñez y al parecer tambien ha afectado la forma en la que he estado soñando.

Estaba caminando por una calle muy angosta, la luz era fria por todos lados, entre azul, verde y un escaso amarillo musgo se mezclaba con las casas de celeste oxidado, muy tipico de valparaiso.

Salté.

Hacia el techo y sobre las luces.

En medio de la noche me quede unos segundos estáticos y comence a bajar hacia la bahía del puerto, hasta llegar a unos botecitos donde habia una mujer.

Era de dia. El bote era de madera y al lado habia un barco gigante.

Las preguntas sobre la situación actual llegaron.

Las respuestas estaban en la costa, por alla donde estan las rocas y la arena.

Casi siempre que ando sobre el mar me canso.
Casi siempre que tengo que volver a la costa, me mojo,
me canso.

Pero vuelvo.

21 octubre 2013

Lejos

Estaba caminando cerca del paseo La Torre, en Villa Alemana. Mis piernas dolian como de costumbre por el cansancio de la tarde.

Eran las rodillas, era la mochila, era la rutina.

Vi de pronto unas cinco personas haciendo un graffiti entre una muralla y una casa municipal. Las letras con los colores le daban mucha vida al lugar. Eran letras y dibujos de amarillo, rojo, verde claro y azules. Seguí caminando para ver como avanzaba todo. Me detuve en una galeria, junto a otras personas a mirar el trabajo en proceso.

En no mas de cinco minutos llego un camión amarillo de la basura. Se baja el primero, y en el momento en que se acerca a uno de los artistas, recibe un gran golpe en la casa. Se escucha todo desde donde estoy.

Se baja otra persona del camión amarillo y va a defender a su colega ya en el suelo. La pelea es entre cuatro. Todos son pelados. Los que estamos al frente de la estamos asustados, expectantes, queriamos ver como terminaba la obra y ahora, no sabiamos escapar o quedarnos.

Uno de los niños que estaba junto a mi era el hermano de los graffiteros. Al saber que yo me encontraba de visita, que mi casa no estaba en Villa Alemana me preguntó de forma peyorativa por qué no estaba en mi hogar. Por qué no me importaba defender mi tierra y por qué estaba de ahi para hablar de como eran las cosas en otro país.

Me sentí cobarde, incorrecto, asombrado. Atónito por la respuesta de un niño de unos 13 años que ama a su tierra mas que la mia, sin dialéctica, sin discursos intelectuales.

Queria corregir mi respuesta, decir como deberian ser las cosas. Pero iba a caer en la retorica del primer mundo, de la injusticia del presente.

Me fui, tome un auto, me confundí entre la pista derecha e izquierda. No veía absolutamente nada. Me detuve en un semáforo mientras hablaba por teléfono con mi papá y le comentaba que no veia nada, que queria frenar, que iba a chocar en cualquier momento.

Me desperté