muy interesante

originally written November 2008

This recent adventure, one without much expectation, has created a new void within. I am finding a spatial emptiness where once stood the certainty of stemmed regularity--- the suburban patterning for securing a future within a career as the only option to an otherwise dull and abstinent lifestyle devoid of travel and modern conveniences. Now I long for a new world that beckons me to respond to assist a medium that cannot be explained, expressed, or afforded by the physical means.

The scenery pasted in front of the once wild desert plateau is the wasted mining towns and the ‘new’ corporate globalization strategy. The creation of super-highways to ‘el zona industria’ and GMC, and the location of the new WallMart shopping malls (complete with Firestone, Costco and McDonald’s) on the outskirts of the city seemed a sarcastic surrealist interpretation of the once serene with nature but harsh Aztec lifestyles. A complete ‘land of extremes’, my friends say—in which the old culture clashes with the new baby-boom youth, yet the church and pre-christian traditions still live side-by-side in an understated model of 16th century global conquest. In this way, the adobe buildings that threaten to crumble into dust in the old city, is intertwined with the Tele-Mex internet and satellite provisions run by the sparse few lucky enough to afford their BMW’s and Mercedes driven from their state of the art interior decorated, modern, ‘grande casa’. Odd how juxtaposed the cultural precedence’s are with the scheming desperate desires to become enslaved by the ‘nuevo riche’, a noted marketing success of modern empires.

In this scenario, I find myself internally choking, as I see only the devastation of the rich tradition and craftsmanship of the past, by unnecessary mass production and creations of big business. The delicacies of the locals, the gorditas con quesco y salsa, and chili rellenos, already redefined into mass marketed similes by corporate representation in the U.S., is soon to become extinct locally to the Burger King, Carl’s Jr. and Starbucks. The local artesian shops carrying hand reproductions of centuries old tradition, now government sponsored and managed, can only muster hope that a single conscience of appreciation might offer a few pesos this day, to honor masterful representations of the lineage that once carried generations of bloodlines in proud cultures lost to new ‘civilized’ nations.

Here in the reality lies the portent imagery of the destiny we so fear that we choose blinders with mirrors that would not only deny us of vision but also rob onlookers of spying upon our blindness. What we offer is the glossed impressionist versions of skyscraper grandeurs; the melting pot syndrome that has pre-defined the ‘desirables’ vs. the ‘deniables’ in boundaries beyond our right to choose. Somewhere within, we cheat ourselves of the challenges and joys of true global community and world sustainability; perhaps even, unwittingly, we drive to a luxury holiday in the giant Suburban truck made with the cheapened sweat of young hopefuls crammed into a cactus ridden desert plateau factory. These young hopefuls are bred to dream of their own giant truck one day, as they consume the Dairy Queen shake with their large fried chicken platter from KFC, while finishing with one of those Marlboro cigarettes we choose to ban from our ‘superior’ lives for reasons of ‘modern’ health.

It is amusing how easily we presume the graffiti on the walls of the barrio districts in cities like New York and Los Angeles are so non-sequitur to our existence. The plumage of the neo-culture we call so modern has invaded the very soul of the anticipatory youth in these foreign arenas. It is the re-emergence of the old ‘streets are paved with gold’ that has since converged with the swords of the conquistadors. The magazines, videos, MTV music and the internet, has created illusions of decadence that now permeates the fantasies of the innocent children that once danced with marionettes while dreaming only of their favorite ‘helados’ flavors. Now, they dance to the latest number one hit on VH-1 channel and emulate their favorite personas as they drink Coca-Cola, shop at Sam’s Club and buy every en vogue item necessary to keep up within the community.

In an interesting turn of events, I was gifted with happen chance as I met a wonderful son of an astronomer, himself a former pharmacy student turned anthropologist. His academia time-line was way-laid for economic reasons as much as for life events that interfere with the best of plans. Life is often such a series of twisted paths and turns. There are bridges and walls, tunnels and shortcuts. This time, he was presented to me in an appropriate world of the arts - led by the unseen guidance of spirit and passion.

By coincidence, I attended a dance rehearsal for a heartwarming Christmas dance show based on “The Little Matchgirl” (by Hans Christian Andersen). It was a large community cast, one in which this new acquaintance had recently been satisfyingly ensnared in, as the role of dancing Santa. This dance troupe had a small but lively presence in a large city in Mexico. He was concerned about his performance, as he was not a dancer, but rather, one who loved participation in life. Originally asked to video previous performances, they had a shortage of male dancers, so thus--- a new dancing Santa! I assured him (with my early years active in the arts and music,) that he needn’t worry about lack of technique; that true performance comes from the spirit and heart, not merely from training. He smiled.

As we continued to exchange the broken English and broken Spanish into hopeful communications – he explained he had never been to the states. He asked much—whether we lived like on television and in the movies, whether the things he heard were true. With some difficulty—I did manage to describe that though some of the stories might emulate life, the sad reality is that it seemed more we were too easily swayed by the imagery of the silver screen. The advertising was too much a seduction for our young to dissuade; theirs has become a ‘duty’ to be good citizens through purchasing their popularity and status. I tried to explain how easily our spirits and theirs, could be made ‘empty’ and wanton, as we were reminded too much of our inadequacies when we did not possess the luxury items early enough, and it was certainly never nearly enough. It was then, the conversation turned.

This particular mention initiated the focus that ensued, during which he spoke of his work and interest in anthropology. He is centered on the local history, of the Mesoamerica’s, and the legends. In my broken Spanish and his broken English—we were able to share a commonality of interest in the prophecies from the past – in this Age of Aquarius. Of course he knew of the Condor (representing the peaceful, feminine spiritual) and Eagle (representing the powerful/ forceful, male physical) in the Americas, the Eagle (link to the spiritual deity world) and Dragon (combination of life/ power/ mystical, also often suggested to be the ‘feathered serpent’) in China—and then he taught me something new.

He explained (from his studies) that there was a line from Chile to Monterrey, Mexico that partly followed the Amazon river, but also, was an extended energy line—one that is the serpentine line. The serpent represents wisdom, from the belly of the earth and Pachamama. The head seems to seat itself in Monterrey. This line is important somehow, as he believes the mystical prophets the local indigenous spoke of. He compared this line and the importance of the serpent to how the Egyptians spoke of the sphinx, and the comparatives of the timelines and astrological ages. He listened as I spoke of my thoughts on some prophecies from Mongolia— that his may also be signifying that the eagle and the serpent must make union for the ‘dragon to phoenix’ before human fate would realize responsibility and birth of a ‘new being’ for peace. He stated his sentiment as “exactamente”. He agreed that this may be similar to the ones that he is learning about, where the people speak of serpents and birds of all types, and the intertwining of such things, before the dawn of the ‘new era’.

We both agreed, all of this discussion, is ‘muy interesante’.

But now I question my being and my physical presence. I wonder where I am placed, where I am to be placed. The more I have delved into this alter world, the more I question how would I, so naïve in many customs of the world and so very inexperienced in worldly ways—how could I be one standing at a precipice point for any task in this era and time? All the visions and dreams suggesting mysteries and reincarnations from previous worlds could not possibly assure me the confidence required for this task at hand. The more things I learn and read now, the more I see how much I may have wasted years of opportunity. I cannot ‘knowingly’ from this time, assure those who might listen, of the need to ‘merge’ the serpent and the eagle or condor within themselves--- as it is the impregnation of the true soul to the physical being that is the key to awaken us to our responsibilities and ties to the source from which we have come. How symbolic it is in every way—as the sperm to the egg within the womb, the spark of physical life that rejuvenates and gives birth to the spiritual unseen. The very fact that mere energy strives to continue life with recycled bonds of ever-changing physical matter—the interwoven strands of invisible links as the quantum egg-like particles become fertilized by the very physical serpentine bonds that desire to form temporary structure. The beauty of this creation expounded into DNA and mitochondria of all living things is formally sealed by the beyond human communication of a deep unconditional love to give life to existence, and existence to life. How does one describe a possible truth that the unseen and the seen are in symbiotic relationship governed by a divine existence of universal consciousness beyond our lacking perception? So simple it seems in a distant memory of an innocence of being that perhaps I once was. Yet accustomed I have become, to accept before questioning, why we try so hard to deny such, that we would build vast religions and governed distractions to counter a realization such as this might be, as cherished and guarded for centuries.

How can I, as a lowly (physical) person of non-consequence, suddenly follow or describe this? All the times I have chosen to offer myself to be something greater for the universe – did not possibly prepare me, or any audience that might be mustered, to this primordial truth that could exist in, and outside of us.

I often question too, the sanity of this association. Is it possible that I am seeing truth, or perhaps, I am haunted by a fantasy of imagination? Am I caught in a precarious web of circumstance which might betray me at any moment? Where my heart lies is unknown, as it has hardened only to a good and peaceful strength to survive, one that will not require companionship, though desiring a type that cannot be found. It feels like a new test is upon me, one I cannot answer easily nor apprentice for; one that will deny me the security I have worked too hard to achieve. It is the cross-roads presented to me now, or perhaps again. Yet one that is not seeking to lay in silent denial.