Wednesday, October 24, 2018

Siempre (Written for an english class)


Siempre
My former boyfriend was a 19 year old graduate of the high school I assisted for English and art classes at. He was beautiful; Tall, dark-skinned, brown eyed and strong and gentle. His eyes had the most mischievous sparkle, and his smile was dazzling. His hands were rough and big and kind. He took me on walks around the vineyards surrounding campus, reading and explaining Spanish poetry in a Pablo Neruda book I bought in the city. His thumbprint is still on one of the pages. He apologized after realizing he’d left it there, but I didn’t mind at all; I love that his mark remains in my belonging. I love how physical objects and human beings are marked by the passing of time and the progression of life. Scars are beautiful, I have one by my left eye from when I was four years old. He, my boy, had a scar on the back of his hand from glass. He may or may not have punched a window, he was secretive and never fully explained the story. And I hate to admit that my Spanish was limited at the time. Still, he was a very private person, and I don’t like pressing people to reveal their secrets.
This boy’s name was beautiful, RARO in initials. Raro means strange, unique, rare. He wrote his name and initials in my sketchbook. Later, the day before I left Chile, the last day I ever saw him, he wrote me a letter I was not allowed to read until I was on the plane. I read it late at night, over the ocean on my twenty-third birthday. I cried. The sort of crying one does in dreams, pure pure pure sadness and heartache and brokenness. No anger, no self pity, just sadness and weeping, felt deeply in one’s heart and soul. Bitter loss. I have experienced this kind of crying maybe three times in real life, but countless in dreaming. Leaving him was so so hard. I didn’t want to.
Life has moved on. He has moved on. He became distant from me. We never even phone or video called after I left. He texted me less and less. He was planning on visiting me, but maybe he realized how expensive a plane ticket between Chile and the US is.
A couple months ago one of the teachers from my school, one of my best friends there, and a very close friend of his messaged me on FB asking if I knew what had happened to him. I had no idea, something had happened? She told me he’d had an accident. He had been shot.
I messaged him on insta, the only place he seemed to regularly look. He was okay, not in danger, but on bedrest and recovering. Three men knocked on his family’s door late at night while he was visiting. Everyone had gone to bed already, at a somewhat early hour. His father answered the door and yelled when he saw the gun they pointed at him. René jumped out of bed and went to assist his father, yelling and running at the men bravely, and stupidly. They shot him twice; he didn’t feel the first time, but felt the second time and passed out. Thankfully the men left without causing more trouble, scared off by René. He never told me where he’d been shot or how bad. The boy is private, and I did have to ask him to tell me the actual story of his injury, he didn’t volunteer it.
He recovered pretty quickly, walking the week after his injury and biking not long after that. We’ve lost touch again. I reach out to him and he doesn’t respond. He stopped responding to me on whatsapp not long after we broke up. The idea was to remain friends, but how do you remain friends if the other person won’t even talk with you? The solution eludes me.
He said he would love me forever. He said he loved me forever. Siempre. I was his first. His first girlfriend. His first kiss, his first crush. His first dance. Before me, he’d shown interest in no other girl. The teacher who told me he’d had an accident was the same who took me aside and told me all of this, and told me to be careful with him. Another teacher did this as well, I promised I would be gentle, careful, true, fiel. I was. There was no falling out, there were no harsh words, just a slow slide away from each other, me struggling frantically a couple of times to climb back up closer to his heart.

In the end, I hope his life is amazing, I hope he finds someone and builds a beautiful, amazing life with them. I hope he has beautiful, strong, kind and hardworking children who attend college and become educated and build a better Chile; a safer and gentler Chile. I hope they take care of him and his love in their old age. I hope he always rides his bike and climbs mountains and stays in touch with his friends. I hope he achieves all of his dreams. I hope his house is filled with books that his whole family respects. I hope he carries his wife over their threshold and over streams and over rivers. I hope he holds her hand in his manotas. I hope she holds his strong arm and rests her head on his shoulder. I hope he takes her to secret places and plays her his favorite songs on his phone. I hope she plays him hers. I hope he introduces her to his favorite teachers. I hope her family accepts him as their own and loves and cherishes them both. I hope his mother lives to a hundred healthily and has great and great great grandchildren. I hope his little sister graduates high school with honors and life long friends and opportunities to further her life. I hope his older sister finds love and lives life to the fullest and loves her family. I hope they mend their relationship. I hope his father loves and appreciates and cherishes his wife and his children. I hope he treats them with gentleness and understanding. I hope he, René treats his own children with love and gentleness and understanding. I wish all the best for him now and forever. Siempre.

Saturday, August 18, 2018

Late-Summer Afternoon

Sun-warmed face.
Lidded eyes.
The warm, kaleidoscope dark.
Pulsing.
Bright blurry fireworks.
The wind in ears.
Isolated mind,
Cogs whirring.

Open.
Colorblind,
Everything a tint of blue.
All blue.
Do other colors exist?
Look around, searching.
An orange cooler,
Reassurance of sight. 

Sunday, July 22, 2018

Followed

We are followed by the spirits of the ones who went before
We are accompanied by ghosts 
My dog was distinctly in our house for a few months after his death
I felt him, in his usual spot on the floor 
The ceiling fan spinning above us
I was grateful for his company 

Maybe he was the closest being to me 
to pass on;
I don’t feel as pursued by spirits as my father feels

There was my great grandfather first 
I was four 
I expected him to be resurrected and reunited with my great grandmother soon, 
I assumed it would be around the time I was eight- 
That came and went like too many dry summer sundays
Spent in primary where the adults assured us 
We were a special generation 
And we would be witness to the coming of a new world 
This fed into my belief that the resurrection
(Naive, too hopeful) was nigh 

There was my great uncle 
He french braided my hair for many a Pioneer Day
I entered puberty and became suspicious of him and 
Everyone else of the male gender 
But he took me clothes shopping for shorts because 
I didn’t have any during the one Summer 
I spent a week at his house 
-These two gestures solidified my love for him. 
He was found in his truck not long after he separated from my great aunt 
I cried 

There was my dad’s high school friend 
Who visited our house in her strappy dresses 
And hand-made hair fascinators 
She spun fire in a circus 
And she sewed elaborate costumes 
I first met her at the funeral of my dad’s high school best friend 
I sat next to her on the wooden mormon pew and felt 
Her immense capacity for love
Her deep, overflowing heart impressed me at my tender age 
And I loved her with all of my child’s heart from them on 
She was going to visit again at Christmas 
She got pneumonia 
We still have the fascinator she left 
Hanging on a nail by the window 

My great grandmother left her mortal body 
Last Sunday 
The first thing I thought was 
She and Bompa are together again 
If there is an after life 
If there is a just creator 
He has not yet been resurrected to us, my great grandfather
I sent her, my mimi, a card and a print I made, 
A few months ago
Shortly before her birthday party. 
I hope she got it. 

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Tug of war (also very old, forgive me any unfortunate soul who wades through this)

I
Want you in,
keeping you out
building barriers I
expect you to break down

Holding you in my heart,
needing your presence.
Come hither,
But stay far away.

Like a moth to the flame,
Me falling in love with you.
Then falling out again,
I confuse myself more than you ever could.

II
Ever since I first met you,
I've been trying so hard not to fall in love with you.
Of course,
I have failed.
I love you,
But I know I can't have you,
I dreamed of a conversation with my parents, and forgot it by morning.
But it felt like they were saying I could not be yours, I would be in the way of greater things for you.
There was a vaguest hint of 'yet' in the dream, like a lingering whisper of "belum".

I know,
I know,
I know,
But I am so disappointed.

III
Struggling with my feelings,
I would not give myself permission to love,
And so loving you was painful.
It hurt, to love you.

I admit it now, that I love you,
And I'll probably love you for as long as I know you,
But it doesn't hurt anymore,
Love is a happy feeling once again

I love you.

IV.
You fell in love with my sister,
She loved you back
I write this in the past tense
Because she let you go

Maybe you still want her back,
You were so beautiful together,
You gave each other so much.
It made me happy to see you
Loving each other.





This is very old, but I am tired of editing it and it is time to post

Once there was a bacterium.
            He lived apart from the rest of his kind by his own choice. This was strange, for bacteria are social creatures who live in constantly spreading (or diminishing) colonies, living and growing and reproducing together. 
           
            This particular bacterium very much wanted to know the purpose of life, and questioned the answer he was given every time he asked any of the other bacteria. He suspected that he might be given a different answer if he ever asked anyone other than his own kind, but he had never really come across anything but other bacterium just like him. He was also too scared to venture out of his usual rounds in the small, soupy world he lived in.
            He didn’t know  what else was or could be beyond the confines of his bacterial community. Even though this was what made him so scared and paralyzed, he was also desperately curious about that unknown world.

            One day, (if you could call it a day, maybe it was more a fraction of the many cycles that dictated every bacterium's life,) as he was wrestling back and forth between his fear and curiosity for the unknown world that lurked the edges of his lonely routine, something much larger than him appeared on the edges of his consciousness. He thoughtlessly fled, uncaring as to whether the thing might be possibly friendly or definitely predatory.
            He was heading straight for the edge of all he knew, and would have stopped, fleeing for his life or not, if only he had noticed, but he was too busy fleeing the unknown behind him to have any thought for the unknown ahead.
            Still unaware, the bacterium quickly overtook that carefully plotted boundary and left it far behind.
            Numbed by terror, and oblivious by nature, he raced onwards still, everything a blur to his frantic consciousness.
           
Completely spent, he finally directed his attention behind, he was no longer being chased, and he had no idea where he was.

            If bacterium could hyperventilate, this one would have at that very moment of realization. Instead, he swam in rapid circles, faster and faster until instead of being small and rod-shaped, he was rather large and oblong and hollow in his middle, like a dog chasing its tail. Eventually, he came to a stop, and returned to his normal size and shape.
            Finally calming down, he noticed a steady, thrumming vibration, as if another bacterium was trying to get his attention, but the thing emanating this pulse seemed nothing like any bacterium he’d ever encountered. To be fair, he hadn’t been encountered very many.

            “Who are you?” The bacterium cautiously communicated with a dim pulse from his own body. He would have fled, as before with the other unknown entity, but he was too exhausted, and intriguingly, this new thing made him feel calm and peaceful. He had no idea why.
            “I am” The thing simply emanated, and drew closer, greatly alarming the bacterium. Before he had time to flee, he had been absorbed into the unknown being.
            And yet the bacterium still was. Still aware, still alive, even though now he knew what it was he had confronted; An Eater; something that consumed bacteria, something he had known from other bacterium’s experiences, but never actually met before.
            But why hadn’t his consciousness snuffed out after the Eater had consumed him? The bacterium was still conscious, still himself, but now, somehow, he knew that he was part of something much bigger and grander than just a single bacterium separate from everything else.
            He became aware of new things tickling the edge of his consciousness, concepts and memories he had never thought of or experienced himself; communication from the I am. (As he decided he would call it, it wasn’t like any Eater he’d ever heard of, though it bore a striking resemblance to the stories he did know.)

            Even though he had been “eaten”, the bacterium was still very calm. This was a strange feeling to him, after having been terrified of everything new and unknown for most of his life.

            I am came again into his consciousness, “ I am and you are,” it communicated, “But we no longer have the illusion of separateness; we are one. You are correct in naming us “Eater”, but also correct in setting us apart from that predatory creature.”
            The bacterium became aware of a warm glow, not really around him or within him, for though he was still himself, he was no longer anywhere. The glow just was. He had no sight, and had never experienced life through sight before. But suddenly he could see.
            The bacterium was still calm, albeit a little bewildered by everything that demanded his attention, and I am’s talk of “us” and “we”.

            Through the glow, images began to appear, much to the bacterium’s further disconcertion.
            “We would like to show you our world,” I am softly conveyed, “There are many senses available to forms of life in the entirety of creation, you have not experienced many of them, but to truly understand the answer to the question you seek, you must experience all viewpoints.”
            And with the images came sound, and smell, along with the bacterium’s familiar taste and feeling; even that sixth sense of inner knowing sometimes called “intuition”. 
            Even more senses ricocheted around the bacterium’s awareness.
            He began to understand the things shown to him by I am, even without a sense of self.


Worlds and creatures previously unknown to him crowded into his mind, their names and words somehow accompanying their images.
            I am was also pulling up every memory, hope, and dream the bacterium had ever had from his mind, and presently said;
            “You wish to know the meaning of life, but first I will tell you this: every creature’s purpose is different, though they all follow the same pathway; striving towards higher consciousness. This is something that goes on and on, forever and ever, and is once again different from one being to the next.”
            Throughout I am’s short speech, different images, sounds, and feelings flashed through the bacterium’s mind; first the touch of fur, feathers, skin, and scales accompanied by thousands of three-dimensional pictures of all creatures known and unknown throughout creation; then a bright point of light, and a feeling of great warmth and yearning; and finally, an image of a great, winding staircase, a snow-capped green mountain, and the darkness of space, stars twinkling and streaking by as if the bacterium were traveling at a great speed. He had never seen or felt any of these things, but he knew what they were.
            “But what is my purpose, I am?” The bacterium asked, his mind straining to take everything in.
            “Your purpose, dear one, is whatever you choose. The general purpose of your kind is to grow and reproduce and digest, as it is the general purpose of my kind to consume your kind. This is the purpose that creatures are often lost in, passing over the universal purpose of walking the path of higher consciousness, but that does not mean that both purposes can’t coexist peacefully in every creature’s life.”
            “Does that mean I can deviate from the general purpose to pursue the higher purpose?”
“Of course,” I am answered, “Your life is what you choose.”
“How can I do that? I have no idea where to begin, though I’ve been feeling around for the path all of my life.”
“You are already on that path.” I am kindly said, and the bacterium experienced the sensation of a hand on his shoulder (he hadn’t any), lips on his forehead (he didn’t have one), and compassionate eyes peering into his (he had none).
“You always have been, that is what led you here, to us. You must remember that you’ve always known all of this; that was why you had that wish in your core, to know the meaning of life.”
“Will I ever achieve this 'higher consciousness', I am?”
“Of course you will; you are and you already have many times already. Higher consciousness isn’t something to achieve and forget. It is the journey of ages, progressed over many lifetimes.
“Now is the time for parting; albeit not the kind you are thinking of. It is the time for you to become Yourself, though not separate, bacterium.”
The bacterium found his shape again, he was once more himself, and he saw I am before him, his shape rippling, and faintly glowing.
He found that he also glowed also, and his heart (though he didn’t really have one) leaped with a new feeling; joy. So many emotions all at once; he had discovered love as well after his strange and enlightening encounter with the being I am.

The bacterium set forth once again, with new eyes, new tranquility, new love; and a great eagerness for life, the unknown, and the journey that lay behind him and stretched on ahead of him forever.

Making time for motivation as it comes

There are so very many different things I want to learn, but I do not make time for or I grow tired of (If only in learning style, not necessarily of subject.)
I want to learn how to make truly great art, specifically, truly great relief and intaglio prints. Before settling on an image for my current relief patch exchange, I realized that what I needed to do was come up with a visual thesis: a succinct, direct communication of an idea or concept in image form. I am not as good at doing this, creating good art and good visual theses as I would like to be. Both because I generally struggle with this, but also because I struggle to create a curriculum for myself outside of college and my studies to guide my improvement. For this, I am glad to be continuing my education this fall at Utah State University.
My Spanish studies have lost some interest for me, or rather, the medium I have been using, Duolingo, no longer interests me. I still enjoy speaking and learning spanish, and using it to communicate with friends, but I've found myself in a rut as far as improving it.
Writing has been my great true love ever since I learned how to read, even before then, so it is surprising that I decided to major in art. I do not regret that decision one bit, but it is harder to work on my writing whilst studying art, I do not have as much time or motivation for it as I should have.
I feel that my life revolves in a spiral of trying hard, giving up, regaining motivation and trying again. This motivation often comes from my parents because I trust their insight and they are two of the people in this world who know me the best. They encourage me to strive for my best in all of my work; in my art, my language learning, and in my writing. They are the reason I am taking writing up once again and working once again on this silly little orange blog.
We'll see how long this leap-frog game of motivation will last, at least I will be that much closer to my ultimate goal of improvement.