Saturday, January 31, 2015

Harlow's Taking

She lived all of her life avoiding Death, but knowing that she belonged with since the day she was conceived.
Death takes us all one day or the next; she has a list and our taking is scheduled, but most of the times we are not prepared to embrace her. Harlow’s taking was scheduled for when she was in her mother’s womb. The abortion was not effective and she was taken to a foster home. There, when she was 5, she decided to fly jumping from a swing when she was the highest. Death held her arms open to take her, when a young man took Her place and was able to catch Harlow before falling. Death stared at them, in shock that she was fooled by this small girl and then there was a smirk in her lips: “We shall see.”
The third time that Harlow fooled Death was when she was 12 years old. This time, she saw Her face to face.
“You really are a cunning girl, are you not?”
“I know who you are and I am not afraid” said the child.
“Ha! Why should you, Harlow?” she caressed Harlow’s face, “With me you will be safer than ever.”
Harlow gave thought to this, but being so young she did not get the absolute message. The girl grew up to be a leader; she was smart, very independent and loved to take care of others. At the age of 25 she was already professing a career and marrying Caesar. Her husband was the only person that took care of her; she would not let anyone else do so. They adopted a little boy a year after, who was much beloved.
One morning, the young woman and Caesar found out the reason of his pain and endless couching of blood. Harlow had never cried so hard in her life, however, she decided to take action in the matter and work harder to take care of him and better his health.
Christmas passed, and the family was having such memorable moments. The kid’s voice was changing, and his dad was making fun at him. They both laughed and Harlow was so happy with her two favorite people in the world. They both stayed at the hospital for some days, giving Caesar all the love they could.
Caesar was released from the hospital and went back home. Things where better for the family, until something much disastrous happened: Harlow and Caesar’s child had a horrible accident on his bike. Caesar held him, while Harlow desperately called the ambulance. Then she saw Her, approaching. Harlow shook her head, “No… NO!”
“I must,” Death said.
“You bitch! I won’t let you take my child!” Harlow cried holding her boy.
The boy glanced at his mother, and the light of his eyes faded. Death felt the grief at heart, “I am not the One who schedules the takings, I am sorry.” And she left.
After the funeral, Harlow lost her appetite. She did everything she could to take care of Caesar, but she could barely take care of herself. She then became ill because of her sorrow and, once more, got a visit from Death. Harlow’s stare was blank; she did not care Death was near.
“You can take me, if that’s what you come for”
“Not at all,” Death sat on Harlow’s bed side “I came to tell you this is not your moment to die and still it is what you long for. I came to give you the choice to live and get your things in order”.
Harlow stared at Her with hate.
“… You still have your husband”.
Harlow made the effort to look a Death in the eye acknowledge what She said. It was true that she still had Caesar, whom she loved very much and shared her sorrow. She decided that it was time to take control again and go to her husband. His eyes where puffy, and the energy in the room was low. Harlow threw herself on him and he embraced her so strongly that it was surprising that there was even that kind of energy left. The next couple of days they gave each other support and love… until Death had her final visit. They were sleeping when She took them both. Harlow woke up in a different place, and saw her child; her husband beside them both. Harlow would have loved that her child had lived and her husband, but she was no longer infuriated with Death; instead, she greeted her old friend and enjoyed with her family in the Heavens; where their love was infinite and time did not exist.

Thursday, January 1, 2015

Christmas Stories

My favorite Christmas story is the Nutcracker and after that, A Christmas Carol. Among the things I love about The Nutcracker is Tchaikosky's ballet score: it is so enchanting and delightfull, with wonderful, unforgetable melodies and orchestrations that capture the mysterious atmosphere of the story, showing how, for children, Christmas is a time where magic can happen. Besides Tchaikovsky's music, I love the story's setting in Germany around the Romantic era, I think. It must have been so wonderful to celebrate Christmas in a setting like that: a lovely European town arrayed with evergreen garlands, old carols and cheer, filled with elegantly dressed people preparing family feasts, decorating their Tannembaums with candles and ribbons in their warm homes, their children playing with their toys and their friends and relatives arriving in fancy dresses and having cordial conversations. 

One thing I've always thought as curious was the figure of Godfather Drosselmier, the old gentleman wearing an eyepatch who gave the Nutcracker to Marie. I've never understood exactly why does he appear on top of the 
Grandfather Clock when it strikes twelve and the magic spell begins. Was that 

an illusion or was he really there? Did he plan all the events so that Marie could break Nutcracker's spell? That, as well as the backstory about how Nutcraker was actually Drosselmier's nephew, and how he got the curse and earned the hatred of the Mouse King, has always haunted me as something mysterious and 
interesting.



As for Christmas Carol, one of the reasons why I like it is similar to the one I 
had mentioned for the Nutcracker: Christmas in an old European setting, this 
time in England. The other reason is the idea of feeling regret for all the bad 
deeds that one has committed and an honest desire to change, to make up for 
those wrong actions. Every time I'd watch one of the many film adaptations for the novel, I'd enjoy so much the scene where Scrooge wakes up and realizes 
he's alive and it's Christmas morning, and he is brimming with joy, actingcontrarily to his previous behavior! I loved how the joy of that scene was so  palpable, the joy of having been given the chance to set things right, to surprise others with gifts, to help the poor and suffering, to say jokes and cause others 
to laugh and feel merry. Hands down, A Christmas Carol is the most potent 
Christmas story. Charles Dickens: RESPECT!



Lastly, I wanted to mention that my favorite Rankin Bass ABC 25 Days of Christmas special is JACK FROST. It has such a sweet but sad love story!!! A girl 
loves Jack Frost, though she can't see or hear him, and Jack Frost in turn falls in 
love with her, so he decides to become human! BUT as a human he can't tell her that he's Jack Frost! In the end, she gets married to a knight in shining armor 
(literally!!!). When Jack goes to propose to he, he opens the door to see her in 
her bridal gown, arm in arm with her knight. Jack says aside to her father: "I 
thought she loved me!", as he looks down in disappointment. "What?", says her dad, "she told me she loved Jack Frost, but she never told me she loved you." 
This part KILLS ME. I always feel a terrible pang of pity in my heart for poor Jack Frost!! 

Later on, as the newly wed couple steps out of the church, Jack, who returned to his invisible form, lets a snowflake fall on the bride's nose (even though it 
was spring). 
"What was that?", asks the knight.
" An old friend kissed the bride", says the girl as a tear rolls down her cheek. Feels, man.
"You are, Kupla!"

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

My fav post of the year: The Bible Burns

My favorite post of the year was "The Bible Burns" by Mariajose Riestra. It turns out that, it's true; the Bible does burn! Jesus had awesome comebacks for those who doubted him and for other numerous situations. This post really impressed me because, Mariajose (yes I’m directly talking to you in this post); you invented something pretty great here. Imagine a comic book, with mini stories of the Bible like the one you did here, of Jesus burning or simply with his teachings but in a fun language everyone could easily get. It’s funny how you made a very old dialogue in today’s own words; I think that kids would appreciate and learn more. I’d say you should take this to the next level, go for it!

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

The Nutcracker

Although my favorite Christmas stories are Christmas Carol and The Nutcracker, I'm going to stick with The Nutcracker because I loved it first, I guess.




I'm just kidding. I actually love this story because it reminds me of my own childhood. True, I did not found an alive toy who took me to an adventure on Christmas eve; but when I was a kid I used to have magical dreams of this sort. When I was awake I was always dreaming... as well as when I was asleep ; and then I wrote the down, almost all of them. What made me love this story so much was, in part, thanks to the ballets. I saw them almost every year and my mom bought me Barbie and the Nutcracker (hey! that's actually a good movie). It's so dreamy, being on a magical land and your own nutcracker being your friend. I'd dreamed that would happen to me one day: just like entering Hogwarts or Narnia. Those were the life goals of my childhood.

Vanidad

Ella era una de las que le encantaba andar por ahí mientras su estilo era admirado por todo viandante. Esta chica de alzacuello siempre perfumado,  cabello lizo y brilloso, siempre trepada en tacos y rostro siempre pintado no tenia fronteras; y estaba decidida a obtener el mundo y hacerlo suyo a cualquier costo.
Es por esto que siempre estaba pensando en lo nuevo que compraría, para lucir a su máxima potencia al siguiente día; porque todos los días hay que vivirlos como si fuera el último, según su abuela siempre decía. Entrar a un lugar y ver cabezas voltear sencillamente la deleitaba tanto como le causaba achares ver a otra chica más guapa que ella.
En uno de esos días de los que sus ánimos le insistían a ir de compras, salió al mall con el propósito de ser aquella victima que tanto le encantaba ser; cuando se dio cuenta de que solo tenía $67.88 en su cuenta. No lo podía creer. ¿Cómo podía ser posible esto? ¡Había cobrado a penas hacían 3 días! Nunca había consumido tanto en tan poco tiempo, esta situación iba de mal en peor. Fue en ese momento en el que sintió que alguien la miraba. Se volteó a mirar. Mejor aún, no era alguien; pero algo: Unos hermosos zapatos negros de taco. Eran de al menos 5 pulgadas de alto, pero no se veían del todo incómodos. Entró a la tienda percatada del pecado que iba a cometer. Le quedaron perfectos, y salió de la tienda con ellos puestos sin pagar un centavo.
En el resto de la semana ocurrió la misma aberración, luego la semana de después. No la detenían, así que siguió robando mercancías.
Un día quedo de acuerdo con su hermana en recoger a su sobrino a su escuelita. Le informaron que estaba en el área de recreo, así que allí entró. Tan pronto piso la primera loza del cuarto, escucho un “crac”. Miro al piso y vio un juguete de un laberinto miniatura, muy similar al que venía para la época de los 90s. Entonces tuvo una escena retrospectiva que la hizo recapacitar…
Cuando tenía cuatro años, la llevaban a una escuelita en la que jugaba con unos juguetitos en la hora de recreo. Una vez, se encariñó tanto con uno de los juguetitos que decidió llevárselo para su casa, sabiendo que estaba incorrecto. Ese día por la noche, estaba en el cuarto con su mama viendo una película. Estaba pensando en lo que hizo, y fue tan grande el remordimiento que decidió confesárselo a su mama, con sus ojos llenos de lágrimas. Su mamá la escuchó, con una mirada cariñosa. Luego, le dijo:
“Está bien, sabes que no lo debes volver a hacer.”
“Pero mami, le fallé a Dios…” dijo la niña entre lágrimas.
“Pues deberías de pedirle perdón. Habla con El” le dijo dulcemente su madre.  Y así fue como le chica le pidió perdón a Dios por robar, y le prometió nunca volver a hacerlo.
Esta joven adulta recordó esto, con la punta de los pies en el vidrio roto del laberinto de juguete en el piso. A veces, alumbramientos como este llegan inadvertidos. Uno pensaría que pueden ser de Dios, del universo, o de algún ser mágico que controla nuestro destino; nadie sabe. Sin embargo, no muchas personas lo toman como esta chica lo hizo. La joven sintió profunda vergüenza, des honestidad, traición de su parte hacia su madre y hacia Dios. No se trataba de ser honesta al comercio y a las industrias, pero de ser honesta a su palabra y con quien ella era. Fue en ese momento en el que por primera vez recapacitó y se prometió llevar a cabo la lucha contra su propia vanidad.



Sunday, September 28, 2014

Nothing but mist

The mere fact that we're alive is a veil between us and being able to understand our existence...
Everything we know about life, we’ve learned thanks to the collective experience of humanity throughout history, recorded in books, and to the experiences of the people around us. We all know at least the basic things of the deep mysteries of existence: why we were born, what’s the point of life, why do we have to die, how you never know how close death is to you, how people say that we should live as though each day were our last, etc. Concerning death, everyone has different beliefs about what happens beyond and how to deal with it….in my case, I know that if you love God, you will go to heaven after you die, once your soul is purified for it. I know that heaven is paradise, it’s the place of ultimate joy and beauty; so do millions of other people: we are certain about it. But it’s curious how we know….but we’ve NEVER been there. No one has ever come back from the death to tell us what it’s exactly like. And we’ll NEVER know, neither farther on in the future …not until we die. I sometimes think about how the dead see us, the living, from where they are. They have such a larger scope and dimension added to their understanding of existence…and I understand then more clearly how our vision here is so LIMITED. It’s only once we die that we will have a direct connection to what we should know, to what really matters, the sense our life had…it’s absolutely true what they say in The Secret of Kells:
 “Oh, there's nothing in this life but mist”

-Brother Aidan

"There is nothing in this life/world but mist,
And we will only be alive
For a short time.”
--Aisling’s Song

Yo Nezahualcóyotl lo pregunto:
¿Acaso de veras se vive con raíz en la tierra?
Nada es para siempre en la tierra:
Sólo un poco aquí.
Aunque sea de jade se quiebra,
Aunque sea de oro se rompe,
Aunque sea plumaje de quetzal se desgarra.
No para siempre en la tierra:
Sólo un poco aquí.
--Yo lo pregunto
(Nezahualcóyotl)

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Café Tibio



Hay algo que me es irritante. La cuestión de la que me expreso es un poco más que irritante, es terriblemente irritante. A pesar de esta situación ser irritante para mí, para otros no lo es. No obstante, para mí lo es; y esto es suficiente para que sea una problemática real, inaudita e inaceptable.
            La situación por la que apelo solución, se trata de que he comprado un café a través de servicarro; cuando luego de irme, noto que estaba tibio. Entiendanme cuando les digo que es una situación seria.  El café tibio es un serio problema y les expresaré porqué.
Un café frío no tiene porqué causarte malestares. Ya está frío. Perdida ya está su función. No hay porqué perder la cabeza; se siente desagradable cuando lo bebes. No hablo de Frappuccinos, esos son otros veintes ya que, si fuese ese el caso, lo habrías pedido así porque así lo deseas. Piensa, además, en qué otros motivos el café se te pondría frío:
Despertaste tú, estudiante, a terminar una presentación a la prisa, ya que el informe es en dos horas y un cuarto; el café se quedó muriéndose de la risa.
 Estas peleando con tus hijos para que se levanten y preparen para llevarlos a la escuela, cuando Anita te dice que tiene que llevar cartulina y crayones a la escuela… bueno, el café… olvídate de eso. 
Tuviste tremendo party la noche antes; te acostaste a dormir hacen tres horas y te levantaste hacen quince minutos. Estas mirando el café… Mirándolo… Mirándolo… Mirando el café por media hora. No tomaste ni un sorbo, pero lo miraste.

El café tibio, sin embargo, te llena de ilusiones. Al tomar un sorbo esperas a que todavía le quede esa calidez que abraza tu interior. Ese calor de café que alegra el alma. Esa temperatura que te llena de esperanzas. Te hace creer que todavía estas a tiempo para recibir el consuelo que tanto necesitas para proseguir con tu día...

Sin embargo, al probarlo notas que todas tus expectativas estaban erradas. No tan solo al café le resta su grandeza, sino que se sigue encaminando a su perdición.