Wednesday, April 22, 2009

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Today is my birthday and I've thought about my mother. She, who gave me life. Who gave me the chance to live, to grow, to participate in this wonderful way.


So many years now? Well yes ... and so few. Time passes, runs, flies.


I would have liked to go in a museum in the capital but not enough money. I have just enough gasoline, times are tough, the crisis is hard. But I accept the limitations of this crisis, that I learned over the years, I agree to live with simplicity. It is not easy, there have been times better and have better times and worse. You have to accept what is, this moment and only him.


This walk with Laika, the field is a good gift that I do every day, and today is more precious. Look at Laika running and dancing on the grass, on hairy skin of this piece of land birds, few, scared by this flying around so energetic black dog, the black beam that comes and goes, this animal so happy and so present. If someone asked me who my teachers would say without hesitation: the dogs, my dogs. They teach me the natural, peace, acceptance of present moment. They, my dogs are my teachers. And Montaigne, of course.


My mother is gone, it was 5 years ago and left me alone, alone in this journey that is life. They say love of parents for their children Love is the biggest thing on earth. The Dalai Lama says. Say that you love as parents love their children. With compassion and patience, wisdom. And yes, my mother loved me very much. And I still love you, very much.


There is a wonderful scene in the film by the great film director Andrei Tarkovsky, Solaris, where a child hugs his knees and finally to his father. I think this film because recently I saw a great work on human consciousness. And kneel and hug your parents is finally grateful for this life you have between the arms, this piece of earth under your feet, this sun, this sky, and all that is offered you by your parents. And your parents are also this bit of land that rub your feet, these rocks older than your years, these insects, the wind, the ancient sun, the cosmic sky.


Laika jumps like a gazelle on this day of my birthday. We walk into the swamp, rest a little while contemplating life throbbing under the slimy green water, we will look carefully to the heartbeat of the life of insects, the grass, the water itself and then return home safely, I will make a good fire in the fireplace, playing with Shiva and Zen, my two prairie dogs, listen to music, read a little. A simple day in my birthday which most simply accept.

Friday, April 17, 2009

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A simple day you'll never go to Paris




You never go to Paris .



It says my sister and I have felt like a whip in the face.



How is it possible that people say these things, I think. To speak without thinking, speak without thinking about what they say. Or think about these things and say them.



Mi hermana me ofrece su perfil, casi perfecto, su nariz a la Sissy Spaceck , un perfil bien diferente al mío, hasta el punto que de repente me pregunto si realmente somos hermanas. Somos tan diferentes, físicamente y tenemos un carácter tan a lo opuesto. Ella, por ejemplo, es una mujer casi perfecta. Digo casi para no decir totalmente aunque muchas veces lo piense: gana mucho dinero, tiene como esposo un Mr. Right, y cuando se compra un coche lo compra cash. Por otra parte cada verano se va de vacaciones. El año pasado estuvo en Escandinavia, el año antes en la Patagonia y este verano piensan ir a Paris, on the floor of a doctor friend of my sister. That is why I say that when I go to Paris could also rent the apartment. Then my sister has certified:



"You never go to Paris."



I light a cigarette while I reflect on these words, this sentence. Since it is this: in a sentence. And a story that in a few months will make me laugh, but for now it almost makes me mourn, what I do and I stand the tears, like a big sissy, and my sister asked why I never go to Paris.



"But you do not see that you can not? Also has no money and all your animals and your husband ... "



And we are in the divisions and classifications. When we have learned to divide and separate? What school? Looking on TV, when we barely knew read? Does the cradle? Dividing is sentenced, he told me one day my professor of medieval literature. I think we were studying Montaigne. The memory of Mr. Park makes me smile, how right the old Frenchman. Racists also split: here I am, master race, and here you are, larva. And parents also divided, without realizing it: this girl is smarter than her sister, and all the stupid things parents do not realize they are building prisons.



My sister, serious, still looking out the window. You hear the voices of our husbands who are mounting a table for dinner as the sun is very strong, like a blanket of love. The profile of my sister worries me, it reminds me how different we are and the inability to say I have always had what I thought of her vanity and pride. I've always had fears because behind them and feel my rage when anger appears also accompanied by violence. And I'm afraid my own violence.



"You know, I would ask one thing: to leave in peace to my dreams and yes, someday I will to Paris, I can assure you. "


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I do not like the judgments, stereotypes, and yet I know it is useless to change the view of others, only we can change ourselves. And it's important to dream, that me in Paris surrounded by immigrants from all over the world to see me walking along La Seine, or mouse that I am in a secondhand bookstore, and a museum and looking where Colette lived alone, no husband, no dogs or cats, alone and free in Paris.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

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The God of small things







chambermaids 'm not by choice but by obligation. It's hard work, physically. It is a job like any other and I like the schedule. Moreover, working in a hotel is very entertaining, it's like being on a ship and is often a derelict.

Over the years I learned something and it would work, whatever, is a way of learning.

never talk about it to anyone, or my co-workers since they only work to earn the salary and work as a prison. Feel that work is a string.

My work is, for me, a liberation. And one reason for this is because I can see the God of small things.

not talk about this with my husband, the god of small things that makes my job a very special way. My husband is a computer and is very rational.

The God of small things is when I make the beds with caring for guests can have a good night and get up in a good mood. It's easy, a matter of paying attention. Attention to gestures, which are highly repetitive. When the little things God is present nothing is indifferent. This small, God is joy and attention.

care and joy to my work release.

The little things God is everywhere, in my work. In these beds do, in the order I put in the room at the synchronicity that I try to leave, when I close the door and step into another room. Synchrony, beauty, order.

My little God of things excites me, then I can work in peace and joy. The details, however insignificant they may seem, are soft and simplicity. I like the simplicity is refreshing. It is the foundation of all, I think. It is the foundation of inner peace. Simplicity

in my eyes when I order in this room with a stranger. Sometimes it is a book that lovingly caress when I remove the dust from the nightstand. Other times it's a picture that the customer has taken with him, photo of a child, a girlfriend, a husband. I am excited about these objects that speak of life. I play to the core. A statement pajamas gently straightening shoes, a teddy bear to sit next to the pillow and tells me of the innocence, keys that gently harmonizes the side of some papers. Perfumes and creams at night, sometimes medicines, lipstick, comb. Everything speaks of life, thank God the little things.

Sometimes it is the energy of a room, that makes me vibrate little God in me. Subtle energy that the customer has brought with it: yellow energy, as if a light dwell room, gray power when the customer is not right, power red, blue, intelligent energy, sometimes a little sad.

The God of small things is not as small as it seems. Is immense, as the universe. I live like a hug. We, humans, beings so insignificant compared to this Cosmos so great, compared to this big hug and beautiful.

And yet there is grandeur in this insignificance ours. There is majesty, there palaces. And all this, all this life in the most essential and intimate, vital and secret in all this is in the little god of things.