Pondering death, spirit and the wrath of God

Happy New Year everyone! Mine is off to a shaky start. After spending quality time with family and enjoying the mountains and beaches of my Caribbean homeland, I’m back to the cold reality of winters in the heartland… pondering death and new beginnings. My brother-in-law died unexpectedly the day I came back. My family is feeling sadness and the strange emptiness of losing someone you thought would be around for a long time. This death was preceded by my first experience of an earthquake. It is nerve-wracking not knowing when the next one will strike and whether the building you’re sleeping in will withstand it. The prospect of death got me thinking about the after life.

View of the Cordillera Central Mountains from Casabito road, Dominican Republic - tuttysan © 2012

If eternity is the nature of our spirit and life is only temporary, then how or when we go should be of no consequence. However, these are the things we often dwell on in the aftermath of death. Take the Haitian earthquake of 2010: over 200,000 casualties. A human tragedy of enormous proportion, but a spiritual one? People who believe in a wrathful God would say what happened to Haiti was punishment. For voodoo? For being poor? It could be argued that living in Haiti under current conditions is the punishment. Seen from the standpoint of spirit, liberation from dire circumstances can be a reward.

It’s easier to have a holistic view of death when it affects someone else, but what if those 200,000 people had died in the Dominican Republic? There have been four earthquakes there in the past three weeks (two above 5.0) from three different faults in and around its national territory. After hearing rumors, I noticed the web (English and Spanish) is flooded with predictions of a mega-quake hitting the DR at the beginning of this year. After the rattles of recent days people are starting to wonder if there’s something to these predictions. Massive death in Haiti and recent images of the Japanese quake-tsunami gives pause to the least superstitious among us.

The pastor who spoke of the prophecy says it’s punishment for the bad behavior of the Dominican people and that the big event will usher in a short era of tribulation before the end. If prophecies stopped at prophesying and didn’t go into making judgements they might be more credible. If a vengeful God is going to usher in the apocalypse why start with DR? Really, why? Dominicans are fun-loving people. There are plenty of nations with no shortage of inhospitable grumps. Why not start with them? It so happens Hispaniola lies on several fault lines that make it very quake-prone, even if almost two generations of Dominicans (myself included) had no experience with them. Say that, but don’t tell me God is punishing.

There will be more predictions like this in 2012. The web is full of sites telling us the world is going to end and every few years, there’s a new reason why. Anyone concerned enough to search online will find customized predictions for their particular country. But ponder this: If souls are eternal, there is no death – even if predictions come to pass, thousands die, and we lose a close relative. Loss hurts. I don’t think you can get around that. So I’ve cried for my close ones, I fear for my close ones and sometimes for myself. But I believe souls are eternal and thus, death couldn’t be a punishment, but it could be a blessing for those who go.

Related posts: Salvation for Sale. Can you Afford it?, Against the Current.

Arena Gorda Beach, Bavaro, Dominican Republic - tuttysan © 2012

5 Things to be thankful for in a pre-election year

From Japan’s earthquake to the European crisis, we’ve had our share of natural and man-made disasters in 2011. As the year unwinds and we get ready to count our blessings, here are five things Americans can be thankful for in this pre-election year. Click to read  entire post.

A reminder of how blessed we are:

Happy Thanksgiving,

Merrily, merrily… life is but a dream

Philosophy finds its way into our lives through unexpected sources, such as children songs. ¨Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily. Life is but a dream¨. The first time I heard this song (not long ago) I was listening intently. I needed to learn the lyrics so I could sing them to my daughter. The profoundness of the last rhyme wasn’t lost on me. I quickly wondered why someone would teach a child such a song. A native Spanish speaker that I am, I can’t hear a reference to life being a dream without making the mental link to Calderòn de la Barca’s play “La Vida es Sueño¨ (life is a dream). Shown below is the English translation of the play’s most memorable poem, copied from the Wikipedia link:

I dream that I am here
of these imprisonments charged,
and I dreamed that in another state
happier I saw myself.
What is life? A frenzy.
What is life? An illusion,
A shadow, a fiction,
And the greatest profit is small;
For all of life is a dream,
And dreams, are nothing but dreams.

La Vida es Sueño is part of the literature curriculum in many Latin American countries and the last two verses of that poem dance in my head any time I think of the absurdity or fantasticality of life. When I was twelve years old, I got a Spanish copy of the book “Illusions” by Richard Bach. I took it from my sister’s library because I needed something to do while spending the night with my mother who was hospitalized for a week. I read the 192 pages of the book that night and then again many times in the years that followed. Illusions, along with Bach’s One and Jonathan Livingston Seagull rocked my teenage world. The idea that this reality could be just one perspective and that the universe is full of possibilities filled me with joy. At last! Something that resonated with me more than the fear and guilt-based teachings of a Catholic upbringing. A whole new world opened up for me. I could create, in my mind, whatever reality I wanted and order up my dreams like I was at a restaurant, because what did I have to lose?

Bodega Bay, CA - tuttysan © 2011

Since Bach, many authors have explored the topics of alternative reality and magical thinking. Most of us are familiar with The Secret and the books that preceded and followed regarding the much talked-about Law of Attraction. Is it all bogus or is there something to it? A new generation of quantum physicists might tell you that Bach and others were onto something and that it seems we are actually co-creators of our reality, since the universe and ourselves are made up of the same stuff: light, pure fluid energy charged with information. As above, so below.

Yet another book I’m reading this week has come to remind me not to take life too seriously. The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz, shares the view that life is a dream and suggests agreements we can make with ourselves to dream up a better “reality”. I may write more about this book in a future post.

It’s escapism, you may think, to go about life thinking it’s a dream. It’s naive. Maybe so. But you will agree that the world’s current state of affairs has the makings of a horrible nightmare and many are trying to escape it through less benign means. Become mildly informed and you’ll want out, or get stressed out by the overwhelming speed of bad news. It seems that, in thinking this world of ours is real and is all there is, we have managed to screw it up beyond repair. When I see friends suffering as the daily drama of their life unfolds, I really want to go philosophical on them and tell them to wake up it and dream themselves a nicer dream. When my own drama catches up with me I wish I could always remember to step out of the dream and look at it from a different perspective. It can be done.

I’ve been humming the “boat” song a lot more lately and singing it out loud. I decided it’s not so bad to tell children life is a dream. While you’re at it, let them know that since it’s their dream they get to choose what they dream about and they are responsible for it. Teach them to have magical thinking and mind the energy they put out to the world. After all, what’s the worst that can happen? Reality?

Biutiful

Don’t let the happy title fool you. This is not your Sunday afternoon, “Like Water for Chocolate“, feel-good-type movie. Biutiful is dark, exploring some of the worst of the human condition in the underworld of Barcelona, Spain. In fact, if you can’t recognize the Spanish accent of the actors, you’ll very well think this movie was filmed in a third world country. A commonality between Spanish director Pedro Almodovar and Mexican Alejandro Gonzàlez Iñàrritu who directed Biutiful, is that they often choose the topics that are most tabu and pair them with the most tormented characters (people you’d never want to be). They then drop them in the worst possible scenarios and somehow still manage to extract not just the gross, but also the beauty out of impossibility. Like a flower growing solo in the midst of a land fill, Biutiful will both fascinate and disgust you, sadden you and make you smile. Family dynamics, substance abuse, mental illness, Chinese human trafficking/forced labor, greed and the fight for survival among the Spanish poor and immigrants are some of the issues playing out in this film.

Javier Bardem is magnificent. I last saw him in ¨Vicky Cristina Barcelona¨ – a Woody Allen film where he played an airy Spanish artist enticing two American women to a weekend rendezvous. Bardem is so versatile and convincing, he can go from comedy to dark drama and make both characters so believable, you can’t imagine him being anyone else. There is a depth and a humility in his art that comes through differently, yet appealingly in each of his characters. He is easily my favorite actor these days. Next, I might watch him in Jamòn Jamòn for a lighter story co-starred with his now wife Penelope Cruz … but with Spanish film you never know.

Tu maldiciòn

View of Golden Gate Bridge from Baker Beach, San Francisco CA - tuttysan © 2011

No es una playa vacìa

sino el agua que està frìa

No es la neblina eterna

sino la cama sin piernas

No es un brujo en San Juan fumando cigarros

con velones prendidos y fotografìas al revès

No es una muñeca vudù comprada en eBay

punzanda en tus partes

que no te deja querer

Es el recuerdo de aquel tren que dejaste ir

el que se fue despacio por si acaso querìas montarte

Es la sonrisa que calentaba tus tardes frìas

y hacìa tu casa pequeña cantar

No son las canciones, es la falta de musa

No son los plàtanos, es la carne

Lo que te amarga los domingos no es tu cafè,

es mi ausencia

Yo no hice nada

Yo no busquè nada

Yo no tomè nada

Tu maldiciòn no es haberme tenido

es quererme y a pesar de tenerme,

tener que vivir sin mi.

By tuttysan © 2011

Labels

tuttysan © 2011

You’re one of those

who folds their socks but don’t make your bed

who wears a cross but chants Om

who is pro-life but believes in choice

I’m one of those

who talks too much but prefers silence

who cares too much but sometimes not enough

who has a home but don’t feel at home

who feels a void I don’t avoid

Measuring tape won’t do me any good

See that box? Don’t try to fit me in it

None of your labels will spell out my name

as none of mine can spell out yours

You’re one of those

who wears a rock and hugs a tree

who flies with the birds and bathes with the pigs

who cleans up well but not always cleans up

who is courageous and cowardly

selfish but giving

I am one

who refuses to be jailed

by names, descriptions, boxes or borders

Who stares into the illusions of life

and refuses to be fooled

by the suffering of this realm

who doesn’t care to join

the rat race to nowhere

You’re one of those

who has taken life too seriously

and sometimes not seriously enough

You’re happiest

acknowledging this is illusion

a fleeting dream

Save your judgement

for things you can describe

use your breath

for a deep inhale

cool a cup of tea

wear your own cross

and share my Om

simply, indescribably

By tuttysan © 2011

Three memories of 9/11

When it comes to 9/11, “We will never forget” is more than an empty phrase. I will never forget where I was that day, nor the memories associated with it:

One.

I was at the Executive Offices of the Hotel Intercontinental Santo Domingo. Another normal day of Sales & Marketing work. I had three bosses in the five years I worked there. The third one was in charge on September 11, 2001. It was 9:02 a.m. and the hotel managers started to come in, as they did every morning, to gather in the conference room for their daily briefing. The room division’s manager (RDM) was usually the first to arrive. From my cubicle, I could see him watch TV in the conference room. Also every morning, room service came to our office with a welcomed tray of freshly brewed coffee, cream and croissants. I miss my free morning croissants. I was standing by my cubicle sipping coffee when I saw RDM’s jaw drop from across the hall. He was watching footage of the WTC North Tower go up in smoke when the second plane hit the South Tower. Curious, I went to the conference room and just stood in shock as others joined to watch the bizarre scene unfold. Tears rolled down my eyes as the movie progressed: the Pentagon targeted, more planes hijacked… confusion, panic, people jumping to their deaths in desperation and both towers collapsing (the South first – at around 9:58 and then the North at 10:28),  people running from the ash cloud that rushed out of the collapsed buildings into surrounding streets, women with ash-covered bodies, hands to their faces in disbelief. At the hotel, nothing got done that day. It was close to noon when I managed to snap out of my bewilderment and called my then boyfriend in the US. He was OK, he said, and thank God I’d called. I left work at 4:00 p.m., an early out for sales. A thought went through my mind: give them a reason

Two.

Two weeks later I was going through security clearance at the Miami Airport on my way to South Bend, IN. I could feel the change in the air. People at the airport – myself included – moved around timidly, suspicious and trying not to appear suspicious. Nerves were fragile. We were scared. For the first time, I had to step off my 4-inch heels and take off my sweater to go through the screen. What? I suddenly had to look shorter because some Islamist extremists decided to take their “holy” war to the West? (Yes, there was a time I cared about such things). Small price to pay, I decided. Flying would never be the same. I was visiting my boyfriend in grad school … not a successful visit. We were like gasoline and fire, that guy and I: combustible together. If only one of us had known to keep their mouth shut (i.e. me) or tame their temper (i.e. him), things might have been different. What’s love got to do with it, right? Loving someone is one thing, getting along is a whole different story. Lesson learned.

Three.

It was March 20, 2003. Life had made a thousand turns and I was sitting in a living room in Norther California, watching as George W. Bush announced the beginning of Operation Iraqi Freedom. In disbelief, I watched the start of what would be a 10 year + war, justified by the supposed weapons of mass destruction Saddam Hussein was hiding. We now know those weapons didn’t exist. The financial cost of the war is estimated at 3 trillion dollars to U.S. tax payers (including war and Iraq redevelopment). The human cost at over 4,200 US casualties, 150,000 Iraqi and many other coalition troops, contractors and scholars. The political and strategic cost to the U.S. and its interests around the world: priceless. Many Americans knew going in that this was the wrong war to fight. We financed it at the expense of our deteriorating infrastructure, on the backs of our children and in detriment to our standard of living. On May 2, 2011 President Barrack Obama announced the killing of Osama bin Laden in Abbottabad, Pakistan. A big sigh of relief and the beginning to the real end of the war? In retrospect, one could say 9/11 terrorists succeeded beyond their wildest expectations. The blow they delivered to the twin towers turned into a self-destructive monster that is still eating at us financially and morally. They gave America a reason to go to war.  Did we, in our bewilderment, turned our weapons against ourselves?


Dissatisfied with Obama? Take a number!

For the past few weeks, the media has highlighted the increasing number of African-Americans who disapprove of the Obama administration’s job in reducing black unemployment. Unemployed African-Americans rank the highest of any race, anywhere between 15 and 20%, depending on who you ask. Traditionally, they’ve had a harder time finding and keeping meaningful work in this country, as compared to other races. However, their job loss rate for the past two years has gone from concerning to alarming. The black community is rightfully frustrated, disappointed and losing hope in an administration they thought might be more diligent toward their cause, given their large turnout in the 2008 election favoring Obama. To them I say, I hear you… and please take a number.

I’ll play devil’s advocate and argue that Obama is hardly pleasing anyone. A recent poll shows the president’s approval rating on the economy at an all time low: 65% of Americans disapprove. And yes, we all know he inherited an economic mess from George W. Bush, fueled by financial deregulation dating back to the Clinton days. Thank you very much G.W. and Bill! But back to the scapegoat du jour, the current administration’s strategies to propel an economic come back have fallen short and there’s an increasing sense out there that Obama is just not being “the man”. I wrote about this in a recent post.

What went wrong? I am no pundit, but common sense tells me Obama and his administration spread themselves too thin, spending precious political capital sometimes on the right battles, but at the wrong time. I am referring specifically to the tedious healthcare debate. We now know that all the bickering that went on then was just a preview of things to come (i.e. the Debt Ceiling debate), but the time and effort that should have been employed laser-focused on the economy was wasted. Wasted because the longer over 10% of Americans remained unemployed, the longer it would take for the economy to recover. One could also argue that the healthcare debate has been harmful to job creation. Small and big businesses alike were on stand by waiting to see how new regulations would impact them before deciding to hire. Today, many refuse to hire to avoid impositions they deem costly and since healthcare, other debates have brewed a new sense of uncertainty that affects consumers and job creators alike. As if all the political capital Obama lost during the healthcare debate hadn’t been enough, his own party turned on him and many left-wing supporters became publicly angered at not getting the sought-after and much contentious single payer system. The far left became disenchanted with Obama and his desire to build consensus at the cost of his principles. He and the then democratic majority in congress lost an opportunity to exercise their majority power at unison and made economic matters worse by ignoring the unemployment issue. Right battle, wrong time.

Then came the gay community. It was their turn to be angry at Obama and shove their unwavering support in his face, as well as his unfulfilled campaign promises. It was 2009, only a few months after the greatest economic collapse since the great depression and still in the midst of the health care battle. Many months of discontent resulted in a slow process toward the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell”, only recently certified... a victory for those in the military. Still, civil rights affecting gays continue to be a sticky issue, in spite of a majority of Americans finally favoring same-sex marriage.

Let’s not forget immigrants. They are angry at Obama too. Hey, they have to be since it seems everyone else is angry at them. Anti-immigrant sentiment tends to rise in hard economic times, this one being no exception. Obama’s campaign promises included sweeping immigration reform, a promise the Latino community reciprocated with massive votes during the presidential election. So, it is no surprise that many Latinos, to whom the immigration issue is dear, are outraged at the administration’s turning a cold shoulder to the plight of mass deportation, rejection of the dream act and the hateful immigration law initiated in Arizona, now being copied in various forms around the country. “This is not a good time” seems to be the administration’s response to impatient crowds supporting immigration reform… and they are right. Except, the one thing they are supposed to be focused on isn’t going that well either: jobs.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention human rights advocates. They also are livid at yet-to-be-closed Guantamo and the administration’s hesitation to take hard stands with China on human rights, among other things. And of course we have the angriest group of all: Conservatives who want to “take their country back”. I could write a book on their complaints about Obama, and many have already been written, banking on the guy’s popularity/lack thereof. They are angry at health care reform, but not because of the timing… because of its substance. They have vehemently opposed every bill, initiative or thought the president has put forth, whether it partly reflects their values or not. They are angry at the administration’s not giving oil companies the go ahead to drill baby drill after the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, they oppose tax increases for the wealthy even though a majority of Americans support it. For the first year and a half of the Obama administration they were the NO party. Now that they control the House, they are the “NO, but we don’t know” party. Where are the jobs GOP? Where are the jobs you promised you’d help create as soon as you took the coveted majority?

If you’ve read this far, by now you can tell that I too am angry. I’m angry at Obama for not showing his backbone at a time when we really need to see it. I’m angry at the democrats who turned their back on their president the first chance they got making him and the party weak and ineffective. I am angry at the GOP for making things so darn difficult, every single day, on every issue – out of spite. Arianna Huffington was recently interviewed by Piers Morgan on CNN. She was promoting her book Third World America, which I haven’t read. Among her many comments was an astute observation that perhaps we need to stop looking at our leaders for leadership. Counter-intuitive as it may sound, this is a statement I happen to agree with. In fact, I had given this some thought before ever watching the interview. At a time when our leaders act like 2 year olds fighting over a toy, while over 14 million Americans from all walks of life are unemployed and the economy is on the brink of another recession, we need to stop waiting to be led. When the time comes we’ll get a chance to vote out those who didn’t live up to our expectations. In the mean time, maybe we need to snap out of this funk we’re in. What if businesses start taking chances in hiring and investing and consumers who can afford to buy start buying. What if those of us who are able, get our financial houses in order, prepare for the worst, hope for the best and refuse to be paralyzed by fear. I am tired of looking to Washington to see if my 401K is going to be up or down the next day. Aren’t you? Given the past three years, I bet most Americans can lead more responsibly, thoughtfully and effectively than our current leaders.

The employment numbers came out yesterday and we learned that last month the economy added zero jobs. On Thursday, September 8th, Obama is scheduled to deliver a speech to a joint session of congress to present his jobs plan. Almost three years too late if you ask me, but better late than never. Let’s see what happens and hope implementation of this so-called make-or-break plan is not contingent on congressional support, otherwise we may be back to square one.

The pot is melting now!

When I first came to the U.S. as a “cultural ambassador”, my first class was Introduction to American Life. In it, I was taught that “how are you?” actually means “hi” and that people asking may have no interest in hearing how I’m doing (a topic for a future post). I also learned that America was a “melting pot” in which people from different ethnicities, countries and religions came together as one. This to me sounded so beautiful, I struggled to understand why then the African American students at the dorm hung out by themselves, as did most everyone from their own race.

Dominican Sancocho. Photo Credits: www.dominicancooking.com

It seemed to me that this “pot” may be cooking oil and water, two things that did not mix, no matter how hard you try. Or perhaps it was making sancocho, a delicious Dominican stew with several meats and vegetables held together by a creamy sauce. America was that sauce that allowed many cultures, ethnicities and religions to coexist, and produce a great flavor, but hardly melt. This last statement is less a criticism and more an acknowledgement of the difficulty of bringing together people with little in common, in an environment where they are all encouraged to embrace and perpetuate their beliefs. It’s easy for races to melt when they share the same culture, when the moral compass is clear and social pressure discourages cultural dissonance. It becomes harder when more and more things set them apart (religion, traditions, sexual orientation, etc.). So, I concluded that America was a sancocho, not a melting pot. “Juntos, pero no revueltos”, as the Dominican saying goes (read: together, but not scrambled).

However, the face of America is definitely changing: California a majority-minority state, immigrants moving to smaller towns where the jobs are, interracial couples on the rise, a biracial president, just to name a few examples. These are exciting times. Today I attended “meet the teacher night” at my daughter’s preschool and noticed that out of seven families, two were interracial, three were immigrants and the rest white. India, China, Dominican Republic, South Africa and America: white and black, all represented in that tiny room. At least half the children in that room could be considered “of color” and “multi-color” at that. Now that is a melting pot. Juntos y revueltos (together and scrambled), mixing race and culture and just seeing what comes out of that. What my eyes saw was a lot of beauty. I am joyous at the many multi-racial children I see playing at the mall. I am excited at the biracial families I run into everywhere… in corn country USA. I don’t worry that my daughter will be different. I am just glad she will be.