Stories

Waves of story –

that is an emotional life…

trauma informed you have to mentally be still,

learn to see the busyness in your body, in your mind, practice

often, even though it isn’t fair you were born into a god damned

patriarchal, capitalistic, racist, classist, sexist, homophobic society

that favors my white Latina skin, that denies my queerness,
that pokes fun at my gender
every   single    day.

And stories- stories are life’s meaning that, in their fullest,
most fleshed out form, make us human.

I want this to be an ode to SBU; to HC;

an ode to Bruce,

my body, my breath;

an ode to my throat; an ode to my face;

an ode to my familia, my Kenny, my mother; an ode to my father,
brother, sister, to friends long lost;

an ode to America, to nationalism and Puerto Rico’s remains;

an ode to my pen;

an ode to emotional bodies laying dormant, untouched,

by a warmed soul lingering underneath,

pure animal energy

born in the womb of the Earth, returning to the universe

once I dare to turn each story around…

December 6, 2017

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Be

Being

a human–

what are we

ingrained with?

 

Are we patched

up with our fears,

long before

we meet the spider?

 

Are we made

to go hunting

for spaceships

and the meaning of life?

 

To be

is the only answer,

the only response,

the only real question.

 

So often

we feed ourselves

that which is opposite

of Being.

 

We are made

to touch

the light;

We are made

to be

the light.

 

Or perhaps

we are simply made

to Be.

 

March 5, 2016

X

I would like to propose an answer to one of the biggest, if not biggest, questions of all:

What is the meaning of life?

Memoir after memoir, story after story, our Earth turns.  Our lives turn.  Our world turns.  Yet to fully grasp the “why” behind this movement, all one must do is slow down.  The world turns us; we do not turn the Earth.  Albeit, at the core of arguably every problem, is our human condition that refuses to let go of the notion that we, and only we, control our fate.

My life has been run by fear for the last four years.  It is a story like any other, one capable of spiraling into all its messy little details, or raveling up into one, neat package with a bow.  For the sake of my argument, let’s name is X.  Now, in the last four years, I have attended and graduated from college, worked at different companies and organizations, and changed and grown as a person.  Again, I am human– change is part of our landscape.  I have experienced every day ups and down amidst my greatest joys and greatest pains.  I have, simply put, been living my life.

But have I been living it “to the fullest,” as the great thinkers, business men, and mediators of our time insist is our greatest mission?  I believe to many extents, I have.  The only problem is X.  Let’s say I am standing over a solid, made-of-standard-brown-brick well, and I see X clearly but from a distance, floating down below.  Now, let’s say that this image is see-through; it still exists, fully in my point of view, and yet I can see everything happening on the other side of it, around it, as well.  I can see the clear water on the sides of X, the well’s black, concrete bottom below.  I can see sunlight scraping the edges of tiny waves, the air pushing them.  Life in the well is stable and slow and on-going.

However, X never leaves my sight.  It has become a lens through which I see everything else surrounding it–and it originates within myself.  I can try to laugh it off; I can try to battle through it.  I can try to nurse it away with medications and pain killers; I can try to bite at it with my own mental teeth.  Yet it persists in my view.  

What exactly is X, anyway?

X is fear.  X is wanting upmost control.  X is the pressure to be a mind-reader in your own mind.  X is defining yourself as a critic, a fortune teller, a future seer.  X is nothing that a human– in an un-judged, arguably never-more-true reality– actually is.

And yet all of us, in one way or another, have taken the bait and lived our lives in the presence and scrutiny of X.  Of course, it is different for all of us.  Yet they all fall along the same path– a path we must look at with not only open eyes, but open hearts to truly feel our steps as we walk upon it. We all are on a journey to find love, to find peace.  We must learn to let go of X, to not be critics of our lives and others, but peaceful observers, to keep our steps in line.   To reach the place that lives in all of us that wishes to simply “be.”

What is your X?  Once you find it, know that you can beat it.  That by “being” human, you already have.   I believe this fight– or, rather, the letting go of the fight– is the meaning of our individual lives, our collective life as one human race.