Gold and Laughter

Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes -Carl Jung. 

In our minds, they are listening to our message, reading our words, presaging good fortune and good-riddance at once, hello followed by goodbye. Thoughts evoke far away beaches hidden in exotic places all around the tropical globe, ambient landscape music oozes by. The sooner I gave up the mindless ritual of getting or having to be with a girl at any given time, the better; suddenly, being no longer subject to the whimsical pull a cute girl might exert by just happening to be seated across from me in the subway made her intrigued. Her spell can instill doom: it spares no one. Why is this guy the exception? 
In time, as you shall mature and eventually know, she'll prefer her man to be more subtle, and yet not in the least bit timid about it. She has undesired suitors, passive-aggressively stalking her, some of whom she may take advantage of without the slightest shred of guilt. Don't complain of being used if all you settle for is the role of a servant. You give yourself away before they get a chance to know you; it's just gross. Women want to be able to look up to their man. 

Some men suffer of a zombie frenzy-like state syndrome induced by venustraphobia. Not that they fear beautiful women so much as how much these men hate to have this aberration, this nonsensical experience in front of them. They really never learn how to cope with sexual tension in front of what they may deem as desirable mating prospects. 
They find themselves following in their footsteps as zombies of sex always in search of carnal feasts, but of course it's not prudent to act out our desires in public. That's what the weekend is for. It's there where we shine, except I haven't had a night out in ages. To be more specifically, in about a few months. 

We can't escape the animal inside; we can tame it though, minimize the primal urge to jump her bones the minute she comes into sight; nothing like a fit voluptuous body, long silky hair, back and front. As men, we've learnt to compromise: not all girls bring the whole beauty package. Some have a big mind. So, why complain about her ass? Or vice versa. 

Opposites attract, so the bad guy ends up falling for the good girl, it doesn't only happen in movies. Fun in playing the bad guy is that it feels so natural and comes so easy a role, fit like a glove. Of course, it's in your nature as a man to try and decipher things, but when it comes to women is best not to ask or say too much. Instead of trying to figure her out, simply love her for how she is. 

Love can be the only solution to the alienation we face. 

As lovers, we often fall for the trap of getting too comfortable too soon. It's that laziness with which some of us drag along throughout the course of our lives that infects our relationships; if we never dared, if we rarely tried and venture out, dine out, walk the park, run, do stuff but some of us tend to be prefer a sedentary existence, rid of all the emotional upheavals of being in love. Loving someone we already care deeply about is just as much fun. It is comfy, like worn-out shoes that have grown accustomed and knitted to our symmetry: we just fit right in. That's the allure of intimacy. It can be brewed to perfection, like a strong drink; it's not just some sugar-coated coloring powder, just add water. Character is made out of an array of explosive chemical compounds that bind and stick to their legislated guns, no compromising our values... character is the aplomb and diligence with which you handle yourself, your business and others. Family members, friends, co-workers, they all have a story to tell about you. Be sure to beat them to the punch. Of course, we only see what we think possible. It's how we're built. 

But if we look through the foliage of this mirage, we can see their fate maneuvered, evolved selves replicating themselves, perfecting all that's good as is, never subjugating to the status quo. We should be conformed with the notion that change is the order of the day, and that in relentlessly pursuing some goals and lay some psychological mines to ignite the way for those behind, an easy trail to follow.  

That's why we abhor unsteady and wandering minds, indecisiveness, fragmented and disjointed themes, unscathed plots, sultry dames, immediate results, longevity, gold and laughter bordering on madness. It happens if you drink and become euphoric, rules are cast out, instincts prevail. How we deal with our impulsive mind is, like a pet, you domesticate it. You may feel like going to the bathroom but it doesn't mean you shit in front of others. Being aloof saves us tons of time, but playing it out with just those who most strike our fancy is foolproof. 

Ever woke up and found yourself in bed but did not know exactly how you got there. Thing is, you did take care of bringing your drunk self to bed, but in order for it to succeed you had to save energy, and so you chose to deploy temporary memories for the task. How afraid you are that you next to nothing, just fragments, maybe the train fell asleep on the steel cold tracks in between stations and the coming to a standstill in an always buzzing city like New York utterly disrupted the lethargic state of mind in which you found yourself emerged. It's not a mystical outer agent that saves you from yourself; it's your higher state of being, the one who never leaves anyone behind and it's always shouting so that you can catch up. 

Within all the undisciplined and self-serving memes, mental process-seer-of-all, the mind behind the mindless tasks that consume our lives. The beast that Schopenhauer named "will". The enigmatic entity that Freud denominated "unconscious". Like a zombie in a horror flick, the monster doesn't know itself as you see it for what it is, it doesn't have a conscience. As a specie, we've lost some of our moral fabric. 

Plato spoke of men as trapped in a cave, only seeing their own shadows, and to consciousness as stepping outside the cave and seeing in its full splendor all the life that surrounds us. We can honestly speak of us modern men as trapped in a rectal cave; we gotta stick our heads out of our asses. We've been obscenely narcissistic for far too long. It's time to stop and think slightly bigger for a moment and then find about ways to make that happen. Transforming our body into a calorie-burning machine, rippled with muscles, and read about how to get ahead in all sorts of self-improvement sources, YouTube, especially. You can learn how to cook. How to install a provisional wall, and along the way come up with the idea of turning it into a metaphor for relationships. How to dance bachata? How to anything, really. Movie trailers to movies you'll never go to the theater to see, movies you'll watch whenever they show them on HBO, or Amazon On Demand movies, or any other competitor that may have it for less or for better quality. You'll find Amazon on YouTube but never the other way around. No way. 

I love YouTube because it's pretty much like having your very own channel. A channel that, unlike those on television, can virtually be seen anywhere in the world there's freedom of speech and an internet connection. It's a great wealth of shared information. 

It's best that you date only people who can still sleep in their own bed. They choose, instead, to sleep together interchangeably in either his or her bed. That's setting boundaries and at the same time building comfort and rapport. Some couples get there right away; for others, it takes more. 

It's best to have that closure and intimacy, spend quality time together but also each have a place of its own. And in that place, absence will make the heart fonder, and wounds would heal. She'll get time to rest and look replenished, rejuvenated by good sleep that can only come from not sleeping with their man who snores, takes two thirds of the Queens size bed, sleeping like there's no tomorrow and waking up to take on the world. That's way too many macho hormones floating around, any woman tied down to a relationship in which she's daily exposed to her lover under the condition of husband or long-term boyfriend, they appear more ragged and deteriorated than their no-strings-attached counterparts. 

If we expose ourselves too much too early, it might be thrilling in the initial stages, but old dogs can't be pissing all around. Playing the field is like jerking yourself off; once you lose the encumbered posture of your insecurities and simply walk tall, no slouching, right there and then, irrevocably, things change. Things will always change; it's the law by which they're regulated. How and in what way will they change, that's presumably up to us. To an extent. But usually, the best the shot we give it, the more multiple shots we throw, the closer we get to knock this thing out of the park and home run. How we get there, it says a lot about our nature. Do you jerk off or fuck your girl? Why choose one, right? We'll never be satisfied. It's an insatiable itch that even if we were to be served a single virgin every night, we'll still try to see if we can get a night out. Look, as a youngster, my focus was on quantity, and I had a whole lot less possibilities than when I shifted my focus on to quality instead. 

Some species don't hunt often for food because they're smart enough to kill big prey, swallow it slowly, save some for later. It's a miracle when your mighty will wins the day, in the name of honor and pride, sanity, and sometimes so that you can keep your job, get to see your son tonight and find some food on the table after work. 

Maybe I'll travel outside the country, or go to Miami Beach as usual. Hopefully, MMA is sanctioned by the New York State Commission as a safe enough sport to be shown on Madison Square Garden, such as boxing. This way I will go to Vegas and watch it from a bar like I do in New York when MMA fights take place in Vegas. Night venues don't send you off once the fight is over, you get to stay and mingle, drink up! Yeah it's a wonder and a sense of freedom that

It's the good kind, and as women are sages in this respect; they prefer exclusive relationships as opposed to men, who favor variety. It's not that women are bounded by more strict moral codes than us men. I said "prefer", not necessarily a mandate. Their libido can be a powerful drive in seeking and keeping a sense of harmony in her life which usually revolves around those she cares for. Men aren't as selfless. We do contribute but in most cases not nearly as much as women put in. 

In our youth, and in some cases well into obstinate age, men take unnecessary risks, unwarranted gambles. If you want to move out of the neighborhood you were born and raised, and take your family along, that's a safe bet: you plan and take action. 

It's risky, to step out of your element, to try something new, to envision a parallel route. We ought to examine ourselves from time to time, come to grips with the realization that our time here is limited and that we can only choose to make ourselves and others happy. By being happy, you no longer look for happiness elsewhere. Instead, everywhere you may enter, happiness arrives. Wherever your path takes you, disseminate seeds of joy, plant adventures, cultivate kindness. 

Because of Vanity

Boxing is one-dimensional; you can only use your fists to hit your opponent and only from the waist up. No accidentally poking one of your opponent's eyes, no illegal kick when on the ground; boxing concentrates most punches on the front half of the head and the body. In mix martial arts, more forms of aggression are allowed. You can use different combat techniques in order to succeed. It's closer to how reality is. MMA is what boxing was for our predecessors. Why are champions willing to absorb such cruel amount of punishment? Not only is it fighting an opponent that has trained all his life to unseat you a daunting effort, an underdog can simply outclass and crush a champion along the way, like that champion has crushed many others before. Your number will come up. 

You'll no doubt get punched, even brought to your knees in the climb to the top. But you'll get up and put some fear in your rival, enough to make him/her desist from their goal, help them see the futility of their mission, overthrow all the kingdom that they held within of reigning over you. You will crush a dream as you succeed and are crowned and put on a pedestal, take position in your throne. Because that's what you had envisioned. That's the plan: destroy your enemy, demoralize it and dehumanize it until he or she wants to run for their life and never again have to fight you. It is why rarely an opponent who is beat, will triumph at a later time again. Usually, winners come with winner-edge mentality, and that is just a lethal among his/her skills than any other. 

It happens similarly in war. We set the rules of engagement, in our way of dealing with the enemy, there are human rights we should guarantee them but the enemy does not play by the book. They represent a brutal, sectarian vision that is enforced upon those that come across their path; women, children, men young and old, suffer under their reign. Thousands of innocents have been killed; only when a fraction of those senselessly slaughtered take place on European soil, the world takes notice. Human suffering isn't quantifiable, but it's naive to think that we haven't underestimated and undermined the consequences. Of course, we've provoked this tragedy, the Iraq invasion leftovers, toppled with the craze and awe such barbarism evokes, when Western heads began to roll, decapitations were filmed and distributed throughout the net, we were naturally appalled and infuriated. Little has been done; a lot of nothing, actually. If any high ranking officer in the army, they'll tell you that air-strikes alone will not be enough. Whatever the decision may be, taking the offense with probably mean to have soldiers on the ground, rooting these vermin out. 

Often the argument ensues over the mistake we made in Iraq. Well, this isn't like Iraq in any respect. People forget: the Iraq war was a colossal mistake, cynically manufactured and executed it by unconscionable men who took advantage of the mass anxiety terrorism at 9/11 scale would generate. People were erroneously led to believe that Iraq was to blame for 9/11 and it is easy to see where that misconstrued foundation would spell doom for eons to come. The Iraq invasion was a mistake, but the military campaign to topple Saddam Hussein was an astonishing success. 

It took the U.S. army, navy and the air forces to take on such a formidable foe, an enemy whose army rank among the top ten in the world. 

Unlike Iraq, Daesh (a more proper and insulting way of addressing ISIS) is a band of criminals that resembles more a well-administered militia than a conventional army. It is too strong for any tribal gang to confront alone but insignificant to face an army. In some instances, when softened by air-strikes, their men are known for breaking lines and running for their lives, though they've been warned deserters will face capital punishment. 

It may signal that a lot of those fighting aren't in a rush to get to Paradise. It may signal that they really aren't as fearsome as previously thought. 

The hardcore line may be too busy recovering, adapting to the constant onslaught, all the fronts that they suddenly find themselves commended to, rebuilding an infrastructure anew, retreating to harness their aim and live to fight another day, but finding no truce, no mercy, no way out but death. It may throw them into a desperate corner; if there were more sinister plans in the works, it would've been evident by now. 

When we fall asleep and aren't making sure that they have no breathing room, no space in between sentences spoken, no solace, no respite, then these creatures of darkness will crawl back to the shadowy villages from where they stemmed and torture their women and rule over their fellow men in peace, so long as they no longer pose a threat to the civilized world. Ironically, for that to happen, we can never stop working with those who gave them the power in the first place and making it better for them, polishing our image, showing that we may hold a mighty fist to exact vengeance on those who threaten us and our allies, and we can also extend a hand to those who are willing to work with us. It's either be with us or not. 

We can't lower our standards, stoop to their level, it's reasoned. It's noble, to us; but they can't afford to play nice. What may seem noble to us, it's a weakness to exploit for them. That's why they surround themselves with children and live among civilians, therefore less likely to be targeted -which we see as cowardice when they see women and children alike as inferior to men. They don't aspire to build a better society for their people, on the contrary they're on a path to destruction, annihilating any form of ideology other than theirs; they butcher innocents, rule by fear and bring misery to an already ravished land. They behead, shoot and bomb people, they incinerate captured prisoners, those who do not share their beliefs are disposed of; they threaten our very way of life. 

We can't just find and destroy "the enemy". We have to know such enemy, its strengths and weaknesses; we need to go after those that serve as bloodlines by flooding them with cash. We need to cut their resources in infrastructure and recruitment and choke the channels of communication that regenerate their capabilities and satisfy their needs. 

Bring them hell wherever they may hide, seek and take them out. They'll soon degrade in their capabilities but they'll still be a menace. We also have to confront somehow, some way, the big players that are sponsoring terrorism with oil money. All nations in the world have in the past tried and failed; but only those who failed and raise up in puny arms against a giant are not just delusional; they're not fighting to win but they can still inflict a blow or two, If you want to toy around with your prey, do so at your own peril. It is better to go in there and take them out like they would in a conventional war. That's why nations have armies, to deal with this sort of thing. A coalition of key players, along with the Muslim Nation, can rise and do away with this filth that's polluting that no man's land stretch between Syria and Iran. They're not even fighting in some key cities; their men ran scared even though they were warned there'd be consequences if they did. Like in a match, your strategy should be: take down your opponent, if possible cause enough damage so that he or she doesn't get up, knock them out. In real-time warfare, the aim is the same, to target the enemy in every way that may hurt them. To play nasty because niceness is reserved for those who surrender. People should know when they're conquered. 

The same goes for the individual, in many ways, as you can face your problems by facing your fears, by taking a shot and amassing territory. You can quietly rule over your woman. No need to make the other men do so with theirs. That's why they come to men like us. We love being in control and mighty and not all of us West thinkers give two fucks about raising hell in foreign lands if they think that they're going to intimidate us. Some of us are ballsy and we'd proudly get you in touch with your masochist side, make you feel like the underdog and sore loser that you actually aspire to. We can bring all that misery you seek after in the apocalyptic sense of the word. You harvest the seeds you plant, and such an obsolete and doomsday view of the beautiful world we inhabit, bears no ripe or edible fruit. 

Do things that in the eyes of others within yourself will make the most visible impact: health, fitness, diet, sleep, mindfulness, impeccability, plans, nowadays. 

Vanity is of the utmost importance today. 

On A Pedestal

Silence, I've never heard such a thing. Perhaps pleasant sounds, a river running untamed, birds in the deep forest, falling leaves carried off by the wind. 

It's quietude we really seek, cars hissing by, rain fallling. But never silence, unless it's the awkward kind, tension that mature lovers are unfazed by. Or the silent kind of cruel treatment, given off to signal something's amiss. It's the way some people bond. 

Silence you can hear yourself breathe. 

New Age music playing in the background, soundscapes, nature's majestic symphony, earplugs coupled with noise-reduction headphones to obliterate the loudness of sound in this sleepless town. 

It gets quiet enough that you get to hear your own thoughts. Quiet the mind, and you'll get that rare breed of silence. If momentarily only, you get hear the sound of the universe. It's the language God speaks in.  

If there's anything that the present teaches us is how wrong we were about preconceived notions in the past. 

What's next is a spinning cycle, as far as introspection woes;  in life we chase relative ghosts, rehearse tired dreamscapes, events seethe a spectral mimicry. No one wants to stop at once, just increasingly decelerate to a standstill. Extricate unquantified, egalitarian patterns in servitude of others to measure up the constant void, with vigorous, thorough action. So as to rattle the golden-ridden parasitic cage of ribs and vessels encompassing in sync an out of tune symphony. 

Lavish gifts ferment awaiting our appraisal, words of kindness screeching rodent-like sound bites. Freedom enslaves us. To be of service, as in bowing to save our head, holding a begging  bowl in the back and a smile upfront to receive the piercing dagger, come to the aid of the ungrateful. 

This world is in need of lending hands to awash the blood and sorrow. Lives of quiet desperation had at least the quiet part to contemplate. Mask the pain with colorful pallets, as it dwells inside, it dissipates...   

Let go and be inflexible. 

Keep actively and animated in the pursuit of nightmares. It takes a long walk but it doesn't move at all. It breathes the air like a mirror to your nostrils, it exhales fully back in. 

Kind of kindness no one's used to. Follow the light, my shadow. Make mistakes. Say the wrong thing. There are worlds all around us that do not venture out, fixed mental confines like walls raised all around us. 

It's been years and we still get the same childish response; the fact that we're attracted to one another is no reason to be rude. The fact that you're rude reveals this hidden pull, niceness doesn't stick as the glue of unpleasant bliss. You can't be civil and in love all at once. Revert to a childilike state, if you're in for a spanking; a lingering stare like an axe to the frozen iceberg of her proverbial heart, unsung, untamed, let this silence be the language in which we speak to one another. 

Most of our lives are lived in our minds.
We don't have to be enemies, we just can't be friends. Would that make us strangers all over again? If so, it'd be less stranger than what we are right now. We're strangers to ourselves; what is left for one another? We may unmask ourselves and hidden underneath would be another covert operation. Let's be in the unknown, not even aware of our mystery, embracing anonymity.

We can lick and makeup each other's wounds after the mating ritual. It's either love or hate, no middle ground; a double-headed serpent, pulling in different directions, feeding off the same the same appetite. Never did love proceeded falling for it, but we loved each other before falling for it. I'll dig in your mine, a precious stone. True lovers keep their mouths shut, food for this fabulous serpent tastes better that way. 

No one hunts with a full stomach. It's hunger that drives. 

When love affairs turn sour, as everything usually does, then you have to see each other for who we truly were before going blind. You shouldn't feast on what you crave. Just feed it like you would a pigeon. No se puede alimentar a un león con alpiste. 

Flirting is enticing. Just not bold enough, if done right, lock eyes with a fistful of hair fixing her skull in place. 

Luck is in knowing how to throw the icy dice, see where the annexed ego chips fall the next time around. 

We see each other every other day. I am always there. Not always seen. But it's easy to see me, and I feel like I should probably not go anywhere. I feel stuck in place, but comfortable; as if I've had grown accustomed to the agony it feels to be there, miles away, I'm a toy, we all play mind games. We all have fucked with each other mentally, somehow, some way. No need to place me on a throne, a savage by all rights, just a careless brute with a spark of wit, tall, strong, bossy. What else is there to want? You know, I'm not gonna kiss your ass.
I'll be cordial in a domestic manner, it's completely okay to just be there as if there were nowhere else in the planet where you'll like to be. I love falling in platonic love. It can be scary sometimes, but it's just fun as is. No need to drag others along into our discord and asymmetry. The way in which I deal with royalty is, bowing will save your head. If you look somewhat rugged, a bad ass... guys like me can have all sorts of adventures, so long as they happen out of that place. Accidents will always occur, but I am strong-willed. This year along, I made muscular gains, quit smoking cigarettes eight months ago, cold turkey. It's been so much easier on my wallet and my health; I gained more muscle mass, not much but yeah, it's obvious. I've stepped up my workout routines, five to seven times from a few minutes of intense lifting, push-ups or pull-ups/chin-ups, squats, dumbbells, two or three sets, 8-12 reps. It all adds up to less than forty five minutes, these mini-workouts fuel me and keep me energized throughout the day. The fact that you may choose to exercise in a minimal window of time, compensate by straining the muscle to the max, pushing yourself.

Were you curious enough to follow my writings? No way, I think you're just madly in love with me and this is never gonna happen and you know that that's the case and you rebel against this assertion of mine and we say absolutely nothing because we're all cool kids who feel nothing at all and have everything under control even if we drink a little more than our share every other day. Actually, I go stretches of not drinking, not even coffee, three days in a row. I am capable of depriving myself of anyone or anything. I've lived a rather sedentary life, with no real goal other than sporadically writing, exercising, sometimes even domestic travels. I have two beautiful baby boys, one is nine and the other is almost 3 yrs. old. If you care to know. They both live with their respective moms. I pay dearly for each one of them, handsome child support lump. I enjoy the small things in life. My life is a glorious mess. I use literature as a escape, a subterfuge, here I camp under the dark sky, only shadows thrive here. 

Dream Machinery

Courage is in the face of uncertainty.. that fear will strike a blow in our subconscious.. that we may fear what's coming next. And that, regardless of the fear, we choose to live our lives as they were, as they've been, as they'll always be. 
There's no other way of living it up this moment, leisure all over the place now that we can afford a day off, and still procrastinate some more afterwards. Nothing defeats the purpose of not aiming always for the higher ground, and not necessarily pursuing an end; we sit idly and our collective minds come up with adventures that materialize, if the effort is put in place, at the right time, under the right conditions, a bit of luck provided. 
It's what makes these terrorists so menacing: they're wrong but they're purposeful. To exemplify, I once met a man in a bar that always wore the same pair of shoes, drank one cheap pitcher of beer and went to sleep in a room with no more space than a bed. No one is likely to adopt such hermit. Yet he worked everyday, saved every dime earned and, in time, amassed a small fortune and a few years later left to his homeland to never again come back. Simple as it may seem, his actions were aimed at an endgame, and that, for him, made it all worthwhile. Terrorists dream too, not about things we dream of, but absurd fantasies of doomsday, seeing those who they most hate suffer in unimaginable ways. 
Let's put things in perspective: sad as they may be, terrorist events are desperate attempts to disrupt the lives of those they despise bitterly; it is abhorrent our way of life, to them it is appalling the freedoms we enjoy. It is an exercise in futility, the inevitable outcome of waging a war that has already been lost. The enemy does not compete; it runs, it hides, it's barbaric and should be destroyed. The way you deal in fear is by dealing them the same hand. An eye for an eye, it is not enough: we have inflicted far worse on them. And the enemy has endured far more punishment than it can deliver in a lifetime; those slates aren't even. We just see that our way of life is far more precious than theirs, and, in some ways, it is. We have a better system in place, better weapons, more fun and sense. 

The Western governments value human life, as is the case with everything political, to an extent. That's why they do not engage in indiscriminate bombings; though sometimes it's unavoidable, usually they try to minimize civilian casualties. The enemy doesn't play by these rules. So, in dealing with them, we should judge them with the same disregard. Our laws restrict us, it is as if we were fighting with one hand tied behind our back. The rules of engagement should be reserved for more fair adversaries. We shouldn't degrade ourselves, by lowering ourselves to their level; we should continue to take every precaution to avoid unnecessary loss of innocent lives, but in taking them out, in rooting them out, we cannot stop short of brutality. A barbaric force can only be defeated if similar tactics are taken. Think of the infamous worldwide leader of the Cali cartel in the 90's, Pablo Escobar: it wasn't until the Colombian people began to employ his unscrupulous methods that they eventually got him. The Spaniard conquistador Hernan Cortez landed in Mexico with just a few more than five hundred men soldiers (and one hundred sailors), but saw in the ships used to sail into the New World also the possibility that many among his men had of leaving that unknown and scary land behind, and not have to face a million Aztecs. How resolute and determined was Cortez to usurp the Aztec riches? He sank them. In battling the Aztecs, that ambition was foremost the precursor of his great success. But what also contributed to their ultimate demise was the Aztec ritual of having to capture their rivals in combat, tie them up and execute them later on at a special ceremony, where everyone in their society would finally see the fate of those who dared cross them. While that may be an allusion to a stale political process in which we find ourselves in order to deal with people, as in the case of the Spaniard conquistadors against the Aztecs, only out to kill you. See, the Spaniards did not require to extend the same courtesy. They had a take-no-hostages policy that, in the end, helped their cause and spelled the Aztecs' demise. 
Nonetheless, it's not necessary to use a cannon to kill a mosquito, as Confucius said. More than a military effort, it is first and foremost an intelligence and humanitarian effort. We can both target the enemy and come up with solutions to those in need. How these people fair out is going to determine the world our kids will inherit. Human decency doesn't grant anything less. 

A terrorist attack is a rare event; there are greater demands. But when it does happen, it spreads fear, like rabies. Let's not make things more than they need to be. Propaganda is one sure way for tyrants and corrupt politicians to implement their stark agendas. The public is emotionally engaged by the atrocity, and laws that do not take into consideration how good we've had it so far and just how lucky we are, are enacted. In Rome, because of a terrorist attack by pirates, laws were enacted that allowed safe passage for dictators, men the likes of Pompey and Julius Cesar, who would ultimately deal the final blow in cementing a legacy of warmongering and expansionism. 

These men would've never climbed through the social ranks in the hierarchy of power as absolutely and unabashedly as they did had it not be by the fear that those pirates who sacked the ancient city of Rome, sealing their fate and the fate of the empire along with them.

In France and Belgium, for example, these things are happening, and far from helping defeat their foe, it is hurting the people who want to enjoy their life, no fear for what's next. Of course, the government wrestles with keeping us safe. But our liberties shouldn't be sacrificed in the process. 

We can live in obscurity only for so long before we revert to medieval means, dark age ways, do away with all that we hold dear and make life worth: freedom of choice to be out there, happily living our lives. Sure, we can do without a few protests, and no one advocates for anarchy and debauchery, living the quiet life that better suits this period of mourning, it kind of makes sense. I, too, am sick of our lust and narcissism, but it looks better than turbans and burqas. That's freedom, too: tolerating the tastes we found most appalling of other cultures. Ridicule is psychological rape. As a society, we may not easily choose to wear a suicide vest and blow ourselves up, killing scores of innocent people in the act. But how many lives do we destroy by ostracizing an individual or a particular group of people? In fact, we're fueling those same vengeful feelings. Instead, aim at educating them otherwise; I know, it sounds like a horrendous idea, but education takes less of a considerable effort than unemployment or delinquency. It's rare to see an educated person go down that downward spiral path. 

More than a cultural event, it's a personality trait that we all share. In Muslim extremists, it is taken to its highest expression: the cult of the martyr, the scripture, mosques and spiritual leaders, media, press. We can see the influence religious groups have. Take the church, for instance; Christians, in general. In a theocracy, difference is, one religion overrules all others. In many instances, one faith trumps all others. And just in Islam, there are oh so many varieties, tribal leaders have slaughter one another throughout the ages because of obscure, ancient texts that promote genocide, infanticide, plagues, all in the name of a hypothetical being that is either too self-absorbed to see its own narcissistic spectrum or just blatant mambo jumbo. At the core of the very proverbial heart of the essence in matter of fact of the jihadist complex lies ignorance. 

Let's just say it out loud, "Our enemy is ignorance." 

Sure, we can play nice and toy around with a vicious predator, pretend it's our pet, keep it chained and hesitate to give it the final blow. That ISIS has be destroyed or incapacitated to the degree that it no longer poses a global menace, it goes without saying. But let's use some mystical antics, some religious analogies here, starting with the following: 

What if ISIS weren't the problem? What if it wasn't even one of the bigger problems? Our leaders make it seem more formidable than it is. How hard is it to find a few cowards among thousands of refugees?How cowardly of the Republican front to fear such a minor possibility. If they haven't tried anything yet, it is because they have it in store? No, actually, as soon as they can, they strike, and they take pride in their savagery. If it's up to our leaders, fearsome doctrines are upheld, we must be in a state of alert, we are at war; let's be wary of these people. It's the same rhetoric on the right.
Beware, the voices of doom. We must not lower ourselves to their standards. We must not cave in to the fear they're trying to inflict. These are the arguments we hear from the left. 
In fact, ISIS thrived in the lawlessness that followed the Iraq invasion but its seeds had long ago been sawed and sponsored in theory, backed by an abundance of riches, as only major key players can afford through anti-US propaganda, by building mosques where anti-Western semantics are the norm, in order to distract their own people as to what the cause of their misery is: their failed theocratic systems which foment ignorance and preach intolerance towards other religious minorities, instead of implementing actual social reform which would prove to be sacrilegious to even consider. ISIS wouldn't be ISIS if it weren't for all billions of dollars that big players in the Middle East put forth towards an ideology rooted in hatred, bigotry and injustice. It dictates the way of life in the Muslim world, it is their daily bread, it breeds and shelters the very notions that one day, just like that other day in Paris or that almost faded memory of 911. 


Our fears made us give in too much political sway that eventually led to the invasion of Iraq. But they also made us wary of a more effective way of dealing with its transgressions and leftovers, among those ISIS the latest. What good is it to eradicate ISIS, if the Saudis are still pumping their oil might into breeding the next generation of jihadists? The same goes for Iran. Even among themselves, Muslim nations cannot agree (Sunnis and Shiites, the two major branches of Islam, are still engaged in an age-old battle that began since the very foundation of Islam over who's cousin adviser will be the caliph). They do, however, coincide in one final delusional truth: their problem lays not in their faulty ways, but in the West. The US is the Great Satan. And so forth. 

That people should submit their will to a few fanatical spiritual leaders who will somehow deliver them in the after life. What if a week passes by and you don't get pay, you go and find out why. If they tell you that you should work for free in order to enjoy life after you die, what would you say? Yet the same principle is expected of us under some religions: don't question dogma, submit to God's will whatever that might be, and then you'll be rewarded in the afterlife. Some of us, however, can't spare that much. Consider, if only for a moment, what if this very life is all that we got? In that case, we have two choices: either get depressed or make the best of it. In that whole parallel religiosity dimension, things are governed by nonsensical plots, excessive uses of forces, in essence, fear. 

We believe because we're afraid of the consequences of the non-believer, of the nihilist, of the infidel: the wrath of God. Things had theologically simmered down from the murky biblical passages with the introduction of the New Testament. In many ways, the Old Testament has little, if anything, to do with it. Christianity isn't the faith professed in the Bible; Jesus himself was a Jew. 

After all, the adage that Exodus 21:34 asserts in the Bible, it is rebuked in the New Testament by Mathew 5:38-42. In the latter, cruelty was paid with cruelty. But we don't circumvent the law in order to bring some outlaws into justice; we don't rape rapists; we don't kill innocents just because they do not share our believe system. 

Buddhism talks of a middle path, a middle ground, neither abnegation nor indulgence, all in moderation: the middle path can be applied here. Usually, you find people on the extreme side; some people engage in workouts daily, chronicle their progress, eat, drink, live all centered around their physique routines, measured in sets and repetitions, all they talk about is how much are they benching, a fitness jargon that it is new, but you can't help learn a few gimmicks and have mixed results and adopt only what makes sense to you. A sense that can be gradually upgraded, bettered. The minute you read about the different types of bodybuilding are really out there, the more immersed you are with that which you desire to achieve, the more likely that you'll find ways to incorporate working out into your daily routine. Exercise should be like taking a shower, going to work, being in a relationship. It pays off big time. You may feel bored or uninspired at work, but you'll never have a really bad day at the gym. And how your day goes, when you're walking around in a strong and built body, then it fills you not just with confidence but the actual strength to take on anything and everything that stumbles down your path. It's a lazy thought that separates us from taking action. In taking action, we put in motion this fine machinery of dreams. Nothing looks and feels quite as good as being fit. It feels good and it looks even better knowing that such a good feeling can be translated to looks; in essence, you always look the way you feel. 
You can take a day off, a month in the summer max. Now I don't like going to the gym. I take the gym with me wherever I go. At work, I have a simple tool: a 40-pound dumbbell; at home, a pull-up/chin-up bar. At varying intervals, I run for a block or two, then slow down to almost walk; then sprint for a block if there aren't too many pedestrians, the earlier in the morning, the better, more than forty blocks before I go to work. From 86th street in Lexington to 42nd and 2nd, it usually takes me fifteen minutes or so. My point is, my life doesn't revolve around terrorism. I deal with it like everything else; I don't have time to spend more than a few minutes ushering about human injustice. 
My workout routines are not the same. If I expect results, I crack at it throughout the course of a day. At home, I do pull-up/chin-ups, three sets, ten to fifteen reps each. The key factor is to push your limits in substantial ways, to be consistent, drink plenty of water, sleep enough, eat well. Sleep, in particular; some of us don't make it a habit, the good sleeper takes just some planning and life is always so much better when you rise with the sun and go to sleep not too long after it sets. Usually by ten I am asleep, and I wake up at 5AM every morning, except on days when I'm off, I'd get up at 6AM. I'm sort of a morning person, and if I can put in a few dozen of blocks run, then I feel elated and energized to take on the world. Except, I meditate too. Meditation is the only time I spend physically inactive. I immerse into quietude, mute the world around out with earplugs, silence is the best therapy for the mind. 

It's nice to be nice, but some prefer harsher ways of dealing with them. And if some of those fellows decide that any day is a good day to go and kill some innocent civilians, then it is not up to us to concern ourselves with the potential of their innocent in turn; after all, they hide among civilians with the purpose of avoiding being taken out on an airstrike. They should not use human shields, but they do; we all heard how it was a woman who covered Osama Bin Laden before he was killed. That's just as much cowardice as the biblical Adam defending himself by pointing the finger at Eve when God finally decided to show up in the Garden after the fact. 

Quantum Mess

If I suddenly close my eyes, would you disappear? If your eyelids are shut, will I? What if you walk out of the door and not out of my life? What if you walked out of my life but still linger in my mind? How do we know when we're really apart, as we sleep, or go about our personal affairs? How long is too long apart and how much is too much together? As we lay next to each other mindlessly and absent in every other way but physically? 
Why do we cling so helplessly to that which we often disregard once it's ours? We only want what we can't have, so they say, but what we want more than that is actually having it; what we already have, sometimes it is taken for granted. That's why we're always in search of that elusive item of vanity, attending the best venues, mingling with the cool crowd. What becomes too familiar is no longer exciting, even if at one time we valued it above all else. 

What if I realize it was nothing more than an illusion? It's illusory enough to make sense of this dreamlike state of affairs our lives have succumbed to. We suffer ghosts that might materialize out of thin air and come out of the mist, but when fear does show it's face, you realize, it is nothing more than an elaborate sham, the by-product of our feverish imagination. 

The fact that we are no longer together. The fact that we're apart. It's an illusion since we're all part of the same thing and you still live and we live in the same planet. It's good that we had what we had, and in realizing that we were really never too close or too apart only helps to defeat this delusional that onsets a stream of negative currents of energy. We focus on our departed loved ones as if they were really angelical, somehow their absence makes them more divine, less bore some, more exciting when, in fact, it's our lack of resolution, our own vacuum, that sucks us in, as if melodramatically missing someone would somehow make us a more noble creature. 

Animals don't dwell in the past. Somehow they intuit that life is hard enough as it is for them to spend any energy on something that is not going back to the way it was, even if the loved one, the missed one, were to materialize out of thin air and knock at our door, as some of us have sometimes fantasized. But we're not animals. And we obey silly rituals of mourning, things and experiences affect us more deeply, therefore we enjoy things more fully. If only we were grateful, and simply let go, abandon the futile effort to restore everything to an immaculate state. We can, yes. Not to stop feeling, no. But to stop feeling so intensely, if such feeling, of course, harms us. Feel as intense as you may, so long as you're not harming anyone, especially yourself. 

But so what if we were? We miss and hurts and sucks to be without the other. And it's a face that we may not promote to the world, no one really knows how much each and everyone of us suffers, but we'll have a good laugh about each other for just how silly we can be and actually are. So, I tend to look at myself with humor, and I go about other things in my life. But at no moment, nowhere, are you far from my mind. 

The law of entanglement, I should appropriate, and not just for pseudo-scientific purposes, but also as an emotional therapy. This form of appropriation leads to a spiritual healing that may be closer to universal truths than that whole mindless notion of romantic love. In its scientific form, the law of entanglement is referred to as "Quantum Entanglement", or what others call the Law of Attraction. It simply posits that the frequency with which our own energy radiates attracts or repels similar or opposite forms of energy. For instance, we may notice how by fearing something might happen, it actually ends up happening. We may experience only that which our minds deem conceivable. We may be thinking of someone and then, suddenly, hear from that person; we may encounter that person on our way to work, or receive a text or a call from them at that very moment. We're all interconnected. Nothing is really apart; as nothing really is together. We're part of the same thing. 

Taking, for instance, "Superposition", the fact that a single particle can be at more than one space in time at any given moment. We are here and yet, we're not.

So, if I close my eyes, I can see you again, just as I saw you every time I opened them back then, when you were still here, and mine. And if I go for a walk, away from all the things that remind me of you, I may forget to leave behind the most important thing there is to forget, my mind. Because the things that remind me of you are things that do not take a space and time but a thought, a concentrated bit of information that mutates, evolves and migrates in and out of mind, as is the case with everything. Particles appear and disappear, and may simultaneously be in different places all at the same time. 

That quantum mess is only conceivable if we make the connection that that is precisely the system under which our minds function. Out of all the chaos that surmounts, we strive to find meaning, meaning that is not there but only appears as we conceive of it, as we apply it, day in and out throughout the course of our lives. 

Presence, pretense

Last night the gang wanted to watch a movie. "It's not that late still" one voice decried. 

"Tell you what: we can go to bed now and wake up early to watch movies," I said. 

Not that I wanted to convey any wisdom, but I've always been a morning person. Oftentimes, as the day dawns, I yawn and peep through the windowpane the spectacle of morning. It's rare that I'm not up by then and watch the proverbial sunrise. 

That's how my day starts. Like a crossword puzzle solved in reverse, the world gradually emerges from the darkness it has been enshrouded since nightfall; sunlight brakes reverberating thru the foliage, and a new day takes shape. As it happens, you become aware of its layers and pigments, its cavities and dentures, all the weird dissonant accidents and imperfections life bestowed upon, largely dismissed by having been assigned a name, categorized, forgotten. How weird things would be without having someone named them? All phenomena, every insignificant bit of concentrated information captured, wondrous lands shrank down to microscopic, digitized sizes. The world of our senses is deceptive and it can very well fool us, distorting the nature of what is, has been or will be, as everything falls into one. We move lighting-fast through these experiences which amount to a fuzzy and curious molecular combo bouncing off a funky beat that beckons our existence. In this dimension we find ourselves trapped in, we're adeptly building more cells within the prison of our minds. 

I say "ours", because it's a collective mind, a gladiatorial arena of voices that resemble more a roar, and it's us in the middle of that bloodbath, centered-stage, glorified madness, lifting fists and shouting. It's our godsend right to revolt, be unruly, dethrone, fire, stir some controversy, spite others, tease girls, go out, fuck, fly, run, drink, kill, feed, rebel, morph unto another self, a brand new being born out of the chaos and perfectly aligned symmetry of things that surround us. There's really nothing out there; it's just like a mirage that your mind conceives of in order to amuse itself and shake the firewall of reasoning just to show off who's really in charge. It's scary if you study closely how your mind tends to deceive you in order to get served, how a distorted and wicked version of yourself behind the curtains of your mind is really in control. Gradually, you'll just have to wage an all-out assault on that animal dwelling within, it may seem larger and stronger than it actually is because your mind fears it that way. But you can make progress in small ways everyday, own every corner of your soul and tame the factions that defy your rule. Harbor no thought without a constructive purpose! 

And it's us, in the middle of all that has been made possible and all the impossible things that will come. It's fear all over again, stagnation and laziness; and procrastinating, once more; and being indecisive, again.  

As you fully awake to a new day that has just unraveled before your very eyes, sun rays light up the sky, ridding the night of its encumbered specters, like hands that go and unearth thighs buried beneath castles of sand on a beach that is now only a fading, light-years away memory. What to do with the memories as to what the future holds? Let's reminisce on things to come, I once said. Around the same time, if not since a lot longer than then, I began to visualize the energy that I invest into everything that my mind puts to motion (actions). I pace myself and see the one I am becoming, how time slows down in my being and how external forces do not have the same tenacity and incite the same carnage as it once did. It's how I manage anxiety. It's how time comes to a standstill. It's how I age gracefully, and how I approach everything that crosses my path. Layer upon layer of experience, I fill with joy, purpose, leisure, set in motion. The animated connections in the mind all echo back to the core, I scream out loud from within, so that no one can hear me, splashed all over these words, massacring an honorable silence, bred in secrecy, forged in loyalty: "Presence. Pretense." 

Life In Process

Writing is a process. It shouldn't take forever but it can't be taken for granted either. Unsung words, hidden plots, shifty characters, do not come to mind in a whole, no-can-do, no can food.

Things evolve overtime, at least if they're to adapt and survive... gradually they take shape, as some succumb to procrastination or boredom, once passion walks out the door, indolence sets in.

Just as you'd normally shine your shoes, make sure the shirt looks spotless, wear something new every other day... yeah vanity in this time and age fulfills (our drive to find meaning and thereof) a purpose. 

Then there are spiritual components, undoubtedly necessary to throw in the mix. Some of us, men in particular, have a resistance to words like "spirituality". They sound too "feminine" to our taste, as if it'd reveal a dark secret, somehow signaling that we're not man enough. It's our greatest weakness. We must never ask for help. But no one said anything against finding answers without asking for help. Asking for help and helping yourself sometimes are synonymous and you can have your cake and eat it. The minute you assume that your impenetrability is rooted in your ego and that you have a saying into how much do you want to invest on this fallacy, say, by not giving in and giving in... you'll be doing your heart a favor. Be glad you're capable of bowing down from an unmerited fight. Avoid toxicity in others like a bull fighter, not by running from it but by moving aside with poise and grace. To assume that we need to always be in control when, in fact, we're rarely so, is madness. Ironically, you gain back some control by realizing what isn't within yours, and working instead on a prison break plan. You'll need discipline, ferocity, patience and, above all, vision, if you are to move ahead amidst stagnation and indecision. Who you are is determined by your habituated rituals, your self is nothing more than a collection of selves you have picked up along the way, like curious objects that called your attention. Some of these habits have been poorly adopted, perhaps modeled after shady impersonators. We have to weed them out; you can only root out evil (no theosophy) by implementing and fomenting the good. Let's face it: it's not an easy task. Nothing is given us; we must earn it and sometimes even take it. But it boils down to how much you really want it and what are you willing to sacrifice in order to get it.
We're mostly driven, more often than not primitive, unruly creatures. That primal beast that lurks within shuns all logic. We're dethroned conquerors, fallen warriors. And I'm in an awkward position to argue since I gotta play the role of a good host.
These interior rebellions dwell underneath the surface, ready to sink deep and drown but not before entangling and bringing you down. You can peddle towards the isles of your mind but don't lose sight of the currents and winds that await. In pushing yourself through the misty turbulence, light will break, the perennial eye of the hurricane. Deal with whatever it is you design inside, question your mission often so that you don't find yourself lost in a foreign land, at the mercy of others' whims and detached from all the meaningful paths unfolded. Anywhere you look, there's an imaginary door you can open and go through... you'll find the other side not nearly as terrifying as initially conceived.
Be mindful: shit is never the same. It's may still be "shit", but never the same. If you can grasp the following adage, then you can get a sense of what it is: Nothing is as it was, as nothing is as is; all that is, all that was and all that will be, converge into a streamline, a singularity.

We have to sometimes realize that the battles we forge against ourselves, that greatest inner enemy, may be won one at a time, some will be lost but the war will never be over. And you can't offer a truce or be the first to show a white flag; show no mercy, march forward, dispose of anything that stands in the way of your goals. 

Appearing strong may convey confidence and to some extent you don't want to look too soft or readily available, but too much of a good thing can be bad. Appearances lie and those who are skillful in detecting deception or, as we call it, BS, will spot it dead on and make you pay for it instantly with indifference, politely excusing themselves out of the way. Appearing strong isn't the same as being bold. You can look one way and feel another; you aren't one. If the most trivial thing can get to you, what is to be expected if a real catastrophe were to take place? 

Oftentimes you'll see that many unfortunate outcomes materialize once we have feared them in our imagination. It's the closest you'll ever get to seeing the foreseeable future, pay close attention to the state of mind you're currently immersed in, here and now, and realize that the way you respond to the world around you echoes back to the most inner core of your being. It means, the situations that unfold in your next moments are directly linked to your current state of mind. Wholeness glues back together all the missing parts that you thought were out there.
"It's not as difficult to modify his nutritional habits" I tell her. "He doesn't govern himself and his taste for bad food will be matched by his hunger and the realization that there's nothing more than a nutritious equivalent to all the sugars, starches and processed foods he's used to."

Taking aim at our present focus can manifest our destiny, satisfy that unquenchable thirst for purpose that haunts and nags at our doorstep. As an urge, feel the selfish self thriving constantly, to be ever-so in the now, evolving, transcending ourselves. Explores in the outer spheres of our galaxy, alien fire stumbling through space like meteors in the vast emptiness of the universe. You can almost see the unraveling cocoon that slowly mutates into a higher consciousness, a far more evolved being, bit by bit, nabbing one piece at a time, thread by thread, drop by drop. A moment that follows another immediate passive present that has come to pass, and you'll can feel the pulse and rhythm of the world that surrounds you. It comes alive, one instance and unto the next adventure.  

There are things that are irrevocably damaged in life, and then there're things that can be improved. And still, things that are constantly so, blink by blink, your eyes open to a surreal and yet familiar reality made possible by lacing up the invisible knots of each now. 

Then there are the difficult things we all want to avoid in life. Cowards hide behind procrastination and laziness; courageous souls strive and revolt. You can't run away from your problems but you may walk with them. You have to deal with it like you would with a hostage situation. You can't run from it; you have to stay and work with it. You meet the captor half way, all the way, anyway you want but first understand what's the driving force behind his demands. Try to find out as much as you can, the terms of surrender, how many people, what they need to get by, and see through that the hostages are safely returned to their loved ones. You may be deceptive and if you have a chance to take out the bad guy, you do so without the slightest shred of remorse. The same goes for the ego. You can squash this bug. You can reach out and be more patience, alert, gentle... be more present. That's what spirituality is all about. 

Get over yourself

Anger pays me a visit. I'm more busy nowadays, so I managed minimizing our encounters. It's my own shadow, no longer the darkness I had grown used to. You do get to play the all-seer but you can't always win. Every moment affords me the opportunity to get over myself and get out there and embrace the world. It's always a good feeling to come up on top, be slightly bolder, fresher, anew. It's simple, really: start small and then build from there.
No one quits smoking cigarettes or loses excess weight in one day. You gotta keep at it. And if you're already at it, then you know: there's no other way. And life will present you with bigger challenges, so long as you keep on moving forward. Are you to stop? No doubt, someday. This great show will come to an end. But until then, let's not shy away from caring; any moment is a good moment for some good old fashioned ego bashing. Go out there and don't overthink the situation, go about it as you would jumping rope. It's almost like an instinct.

Noble Ways

Distress: When you get home, think of the things you enjoy doing and do more of them. If there are places you haven't seen in a while, take a walk here, have a drink there. Nowadays, I avoid drinking alcoholic beverages and reduced my amount of spirits by a whopping 70%. Instead of averaging twenty drinks per week (roughly three beers a day or, better yet, night), I drink less than one a day. 

Alcohol, in moderation, is perhaps the best preventive medicine to cardiovascular disease. It helps you relax, unwind, take the edge off. It induces drowsiness which facilitates falling asleep but maybe not so much staying so. It makes us social. It makes us a little less of the head, dumber if you will. It too can be the most evil substance, if abused, and in some instances, it can cause accidents at work or in the road, it impairs our ability to function properly, so best to leave it for times of leisure. 

Of course, it's not like alcoholism is something you happen to pick up on your way to work. It exhibits similarities to other conditions. The mind above all creates all of these ailments. If we deal with the mind first, the body has a fighting chance. It is known that people with multiple personality disorder tend to live out different characters in their lives and in some cases they suffer particular illnesses characteristic of the assumed personality. If a personality suffers from diabetes, it shows only when the disorder summons that particular personality. It'd be unfair to say that people chooses to be alcoholic any more than being diabetic. We often treat the disease, and forget the person. This is the conundrum that modern medicine is facing: do we profit from suffering or really find cures to afflictions? In my mind's eye, there's something amiss here. 

Eustress: Eustress is the good kind of stress, the type that not doing will probably mean more stress in the future. Eustress is stress that you must undergo. Take, for instance, exercise: no doubt it is a strenuous activity that many avoid in order to bypass the pain and suffering it entails. But not exercising, for instance, or sleeping too much or too little, or drinking too much, these are all easy habits to fall into. Not doing what you must can cause greater pain in the long run.  

Eustress is taking action in the right direction, it implies an effort that can be both mental and physical (you may need to go to the bank, do the laundry, go to the supermarket and get some groceries which means you have to move and get those chores underway. Other disciplines may exert a great deal of willpower initially, but once you form a habit of something, it belongs to you, it's part of you. The first weeks are crucial to stick to because you'll be making it a habit. Day by day, you'll grow stronger, but it'll require a great deal of commitment and effort. Then it'll become almost effortlessly; it's showing up and you'll know why, you rarely come out of a workout feeling miserable. You don't think people eat healthy to make themselves miserable; no, eating healthy comes with a dose of high self-esteem. Often that sense of one's worth translates into a more proactive and action-packed life, someone who eats right usually works out. Some may decide over one or the other to counter the effects of obesity, the result of a sedentary lifestyle.
And so, in our dealings with things of the utmost importance, a good deal of stress is to be expected. Knowing that not taking upon those essential tasks will mean greater misery in the not-so-distant future. Hell, you can feel the miserable aspect of inaction in very fabric of things around, how procrastination festers and poisons our energy, how a simple chore becomes so disproportionately magnified by our passivity.

Then there are those in the opposite side of the spectrum. Neurotics who never find solace and rest in their limitless endeavours; constant movement and noise can be just as bad. Again, that Middle Path, Buddhism speaks of, comes as godsend. 

Having the peace of mind of someone who takes care of business, it takes discipline to carry things through but also to know when there's a moment to reflect in silence, to gather our strength and revitalize ourselves. 

Midway: The Buddha is said to have found other things of just as much importance as that of the Middle Path. Having experienced the riches and pleasures of a kingdom in which he was a prince, but also deprivation and starvation typical of the highest order in spiritual quests, the Buddha concluded that happiness lied somewhere in between, he called it "the middle path" and it basically speaks of balance and moderation in things. Not too much and not too little, neither riches nor extreme poverty. Moderation, temperance, aplomb are qualities of character forged throughout a lifetime of experiences, if one is true to its nature in doing so, prudence is the name of the game. And then, from time to time, spice things up and be bolder than regularly, mix good deeds and vibes, and a worthy existence will manifest itself, surround you and merge into one. You can call upon the light you seek in your path, read the will of others in reverse, tie one thread of narrative, leave a rhetorical trace. You can enhance a moment, magnify it and it can be something that is in sync with your own nature. If you find yourself angry in many situations, you've looked forward to expressing that emotion all day long. You let them have it, if not a self-inflicted wound, hurting others never feels good. Not the ones we love, anyway. You ought to have a list of sacred cows, people whether these are friends or family, partners in crime or in love, our inner circle is taken care of. We don't let ego in here. We lock the doors, lick each other's wounds and see as senseless in-fighting. 

It really is about moderation this noble truth. It's also about balance. It's about enjoying things prudently. It's somewhere between starvation and gluttony. It's middle ground, safe ground.

Foreign Lands

We lay here and watch a movie, cook, eat ice cream, and my mind drifts towards more urgent matters. I need to go to court, fight the system to stay in this apartment. If it happens, try to hold on to it for a while longer. I think it shows consistency, my life has always been moving around from one place to the next, one relationship to another. All my life I lived like a nomad and loved like a madman. 

Anger has been a key player in the deterioration of these bonds. Other issues, too, played a role. But only anger paralyzed me, took me hostage, raided and looted the lands of decency, the boundaries of good relations; anger plays dirty and says hurtful things. It's not what people say, especially in a moment of anger. It's what they do and what they don't. 

What's meaningful in a relation is to give one another always the benefit of the doubt, peace of mind and space. Only this way can you truly aspire to become part of someone else's life, not their whole, not by a whole lot. In relation to one another, we all live in foreign islands, far away from one another. 

The world we see today emanated out of the past that we forged, stone on top of another stone, brick by brick. There's sorrow and sweat and tears and all distill their acidic properties. Laughter, serenity, quietude, aloofness, you need to learn to love spending time alone if you want to love someone else. We are only alive this moment, never bother with rigid rules, headstrong but flexible, willing to bow down and admit one's mistakes. 

Don't let ego get in the way. You're the man and as such, you're supposed to be the one who fights for something, anything, that you believe. Ambivalence is not a manly stance; neutrality, indifference, when it comes to nurture, do not reflect your core values. There will always be forces testing our resolve, challenging our minds, and women often tap into this dark force as if to see we, as men, can cope with what life often has in store for us. The challenge women represent is the intrinsically the challenge by and large life is full of. It is as if our women wanted to know if we are willing and ready to face the dark, if we have enough light to brighten the obscure passages that await us in the alleys of our destiny, in the turns of fate, in the face of adversity. We must know that women will never inflict nearly as much chaos and pain as life in this world of ours is capable of. We should see our women's nagging and complaints, her lack of empathy at times, her virulent moods and unsteadiness, her bitchiness, as a testing ground for our resolve. We can withstand the feminine blows because we were meant to overcome bigger things. 

But before we do, we must be willing to test our resolve in relatively smaller issues. When we're children, our first day of school, the first love, all these wondrous emotions seem at times too overwhelming, but in retrospect nothing that would have doomed our spirit in those days is able to bring us down nowadays. Perhaps that's the reason why, when it comes to indecisive behavior, self-doubt and timidity, as men we tend to euphemistically belittle one another with adjectives that stem off feminine prerogatives. We call each other "sissies", or tell one another "don't be a pussy", or "little girl", especially as young boys and, in many instances, as men.

We have grown older, we know we can manage, and in the same way, our troubles now are nothing more than challenges that, once conquered, will be part of our circle of influence, and we can adapt and manage, and move on to bigger things.