Chuntaro's Corner

SOMOS JUVENTUD

2012-01-25T22:26:00.000-08:00

SER JOVEN NO ES UN DELITO!

Esta es mi mama

2012-01-17T20:22:00.000-08:00

Still

2012-01-12T20:44:00.000-08:00

Still kicking
Still living
Sorry guys!...

LOST

2012-01-04T20:57:00.000-08:00

I am still lost
Between the Sandias
And the desert
Between your eyes
And your anger
Between your strong sweetness
And your bold harshness

I am still wondering
Between the pine forests
And the dry empty spaces

Between your bed
And your loneliness
I can’t find a place to rest…

ACTITUD CALLE

2012-01-01T17:07:00.000-08:00

Footprints on the sand

2011-12-31T19:19:00.000-08:00

Tlacuache walked through the desert
No food
No water
Just a little bit of faith
Some corn pollen
And a handful of madness

he found the flaming bushes of neglect
among culture and sand
salt mountains made of
sweat and blood
driver licenses and tears

Tlacuache was worn out with anguish
by realizing
and admitting to himself
that grant writers do not know about hunger
And federal funders don’t understand of prayers
And hugs
That well intentioned executive directors
Have forgot of the beauty
Of smiles with missing teeth
Or sovereignty regained by holding a handrum
and that federal officers
can forget to smile
and cry too

Tlacuache kept on marching
Facing the sacred peaks
As the night fell
And the cries of a million souls demanded justice
Among the trauma represented in each grain of sand
Mapache lit a torch
Made with the shredded pieces
Of a thousand unpaid checks
Of undocumented
And deported paisas

The fire grew strong in light
opening the cloud of sadness
eradicating the pain and darkness
Suddenly
He was able to see
that which cannot be touched
sold or taken
the people’s songs
the relationship with the earth
the dignity
and love

Talcuache held council
among dust
smoke
cornmeal and Shima Azee’
he consulted with popei
manuelito
geronimo
and those buried outside Juarez

While being present to all pain
Tlacuache realized that he had been attacked
By sticks and stones of scared and righteous minds
defeated yet victorious
broken but complete
to be fueled
by spirit songs
so he realized
that they could take away his name
his work
his walked path
but they will never take away
the land under his feet
and the people
he carries
in his hearth

And the Tlachuache was ready to walk again…

I NEED A DOLLAR

2011-12-26T21:43:00.000-08:00

Dusty letter number 3

2011-12-24T11:22:00.000-08:00

Dear all:
Once again I do not know where I am
Yet it feels good
I have inactive volcanos on my backyard,
I constantly see people that look like me and my relatives
Gentrification is on the works
Yet the harsh realities are out, which I am thankful for
Yet it gets hard to see people like you or your friends, strung out on heroin or drunk
At times it is real hard not to get mad

I miss my chichimeca land
I cannot find a decent butcher to get an Argentinian cut,
Let me tell you, green or red chile is not salsa
Yet, I appreciate how much water we have
Also,
I don’t miss you
Because
I carry all of you in my heart

Cherán

2011-12-13T20:37:00.000-08:00

Cuando tu no estas

2011-12-11T21:24:00.000-08:00

I feel empty
Like a cantina and mariachi
Without chavela vargas

I feel lost
Like huapangero
Sin guitarra and the sierra

On the cold dessert nights
Mr. King plays the blues
The coyotes howl your name
And nothing
Nothing
Makes much sense...

CLANDESTINO in ARIZONA!

2011-11-29T22:55:00.000-08:00

Lila Downs - El Palomo del Comalito

2011-11-11T15:17:00.000-08:00

Y pelear
y pelear por las cosas que si son buenas...

I RESIST

2011-11-05T14:13:00.000-07:00

Burque

2011-11-03T21:20:00.000-07:00

La realidad

2011-11-02T15:47:00.001-07:00

Tlacuache had a dream
About la realidad
And he started to wonder how it would be
To be in her presence
Green
Strong
Beautiful
The very calling of her name would make him cry
He remembered his past voyages through it
Along duck and mapache
And how connected with all he was then

Tlacuache felt disconnected and far
From his soul inside
No good
Not bad either
Just an absence
Of low flight
Where all is little
Because
To grow old
Is to grow and ego
And grow bad

However
Tlacuache realized that he was not sleeping
Or remembering, or thinking on how to get back

Solidaridad and squirrel told him
Yes it is beautiful!
Yet la realidad is not just south
Within the ceibas of the lancandona
La realidad its inside you
La realidad is if front of you
With the drunk Indians in central and yale
With the junkies in barelas
Along the smiles of the children
Dragging chains along the ghosts in old town
In the classroom where adults find their voice on fourth street
In the work that dignifies migrant men
In the lodge on isleta that helps homies find their way

And guess what lil tlacuache?
Said a wise old cartepillar with long black braids
realidad
She may be harsh
Yet
She is green
Strong
And more beautiful
Than you could have ever thought

Tlacuache grew stars in his eyes
A few more calluses in his paws
And a warm sensation inside
He realized
That just like Aztlan
He didn’t have to walk far
Because realidad
Just like his relations
And ancestors
Was always present
Whenever he blew
Good mountain smoke
When he sang for a good life
In the children screaming his name
In the ESL class he taught
In the smile of the abuelas
In the eyes of urban campesinos
In the mountains of the sierra
And his heart…

Tabakito de Maiz

2011-10-31T21:30:00.000-07:00

Tributo a Machado

2011-10-23T20:13:00.000-07:00

Silvio in my ears
Your smile in my mind
Corn in my veins
My ancestors in my skin
The world in my heart...

Still waiting for the rent check

2011-10-11T22:19:00.000-07:00

The real discovery
was the fact that we were here already
The thing to accept was and still is now,
that as long
as the people of the color of the earth
are here
this will continue
to be our mother
and our land…

Spirituality as applied wisdom for justice, unity and self-growth

2011-09-11T20:28:00.000-07:00

This is a draft of something that I am writing by request for Edwin Aponte, he is one of my mentors and has an upcoming book about lo sagrado.

As I soon as I was asked to write a few words about the brown/latino/hispano/mestizo/ indigenous experience in the US my heart was filled with joy and my head filled with panic.
How to explain the faith a group of people that is so diverse and that cannot be defined just by race, ethnicity, cultural background, social class or census data without creating division, yet also without clumping all of them together? How to define or make sense of the ways of the spirit without being simplistic or sounding just crazy?
My answer is in that which is universal, workable and just. To make sense of it I guess I’ll start by explaining part of my own hectic, yet beautiful experiences and observations in the realm of the sagrado, which of course transits trough the road of purpose and identity. Let me define myself, I am not Latino or Hispanic. I identify a lot with Chicanos, Boricua- Tainos, first nations and immigrants worldwide. I am also a member of the Chichimeca nation, huarave and jonas are my clans through my parents, I am a member of the confederacy of Mexica groups of cemanahuac (Meso America), a Mexican national, a former undocumented-documented migrant and US resident, now also a US citizen, a former Chicagoan and a new New Mexican. I am also a voice carrier for a few groups that work with youth, people struggling with addiction and I facilitate ceremonies for the Native American church.
I grew up raised by a Chichimeca grandma that devoutly went to Catholic Church and could not aspire to grow within that setting. Yet all that she could and knew to do was to serve to those who needed her and those who didn’t. She would open her house for prayer and to help indigenous kids going to seminary, and old ladies coming from her communities to sell stuff at the markets. This grandma also knew about peyote for ceremony and used ganja for analgesic rubs, she would talk to her plants and when me or one of my cousins would get sick, as she was feeding us she would start with a prayer sending her voice, “en el nombre sea de dios” may it be in the name of god she would say. Later in life I realized that my granma, like many other people had developed her own syncretic, autochthonous, and guilt free spirituality. A spirituality that didn’t minimize either root of her traditions, the European brought or the Indigenous tradition over the other. My nana Nina was just practical and purposeful in her practice of the sagrado, el costumbre y la tradicion, the sacred the custom and the tradition. When I walk into churches, hospitals, healing sites or ceremonies in places like in San Juan Chamula, Colombia, chalma or Bolivia and see the same heart of my grandma manifested in the hope of others I really get it and see her and other people being one. The proofs of devotion through preregrinaciones, mandas, milagritos and retables show me humility in the form of a kinetic prayer. I see this in my own life when I go to participate in the Lakota Sundance in Eagle Butte South Dakota every year.
Another factor to my spiritual identity is based in the fact that I have an adopted sister who is Jewish and whose Judaism not only enhances my experience as a human, it also educates me and helps me get rid of prejudices and to understand that at times the beliefs of people get confused within very human historical conflicts and interests. She works as my cultural expert in this country and whenever I have traveled to the Middle East. She showed me to appreciate the sacred places of other traditions as manifestations of the resiliency, compassion and hope. Thanks for that Michelle Shifra Malka ben ha Kohan!

Let me dig deeper into this guacamole; I have a cousin named Jesus, he is now dead (a bad accident) so when I remember him in ceremony, I technically send my voice to him now. Hey, this is kind of a joke! At least in my mind!
I went to a Salesian high school where I witnessed how the church can be harsh on the poor and benefit the wealthy. I ended being spelled from that school for opposing injustice and refusing to exercise my privileges. This experience really showed me the possible alienating realm of the sacred, lo divino y lo humano, the divine and that which is very, very human. This led me away from any kind of church for a long time. Yet life and the search of purpose continued and I started practicing some of the indigenous traditions that my family inherited, but didn’t practice such as conchero dance and hikuri ceremonies. I was being shaped in spirit and identity and was very unaware of it. In my early twenties I attended a covenant university that woke up my survival instincts, my theological interests, and shaped my approach to inclusion and my mujerismo. Thanks to Maria Isasi-Diaz, Gloria Anzaldua and Ismael Garcia I was able to see that the church, city hall, educational systems and the UN also need to know about gender mainstreaming, ecofeminism, and dignidad.
I went to grad school to a Vicentian institution where I saw pretend and real service and got reinforced in the concept that those who we serve are really our teachers. And that working with those who are not invited to the party, gathering, church or symposium are the ones who we need to reach out in order to see society for what it really is. I thank theologian Marco Tavanti for this companerismo and support. If all Italo- Native American relationships were like ours, this would be a very different world! Also, thanks to Marco and while working in Chiapas I learned that the sagrado is autochthonous and that that allows people’s understanding and manifestation of ideas to bloom , I honor with Tatic Samuel Ruiz and the EZLN revolutionary women’s law. I now understand the need for a world where many worlds fit in, and that free people do not need permission or official recognitions to be who they are. And if we are to create such worlds we need to see ourselves in the others especially those who we do not necessarily we agree with, and that may point their blame and guns at us. I sincerely thank the group Las Abejas for this.
The sagrado takes action in many forms, here is where the palabra escrita, the written word comes in. My mom taught me that the sagrado is art and bold word, like the one that denounces the hypocrisy of patriarchy like the words of Sor Juana, Bartolina sissa, Guillermo velasquez, Medea Benjamin, the mothers of the Plaza de Mayo and Rigoberta Menchu. This bold word is the same faith in action or the realm of a working spirituality, also known as wisdom has shown me humility and genuine care. While traveling through Jordan I met and was schooled by Rev. Archimandrite Prof. Qais Sadiq President of the Ecumenical Studies Center and the Orthodox Youth Fellowship on sustainable development initiatives for Arab women, community and youth building and acknowledgement. This made me present to the concept of unguarded love.

The sagrado makes also its way to the power of cuento as it delivers s its complex power in the work of people like rudolfo Anaya and ultima that show me the mystery of coming of age, struggling with identity and vocation while honoring other’s myths and caring for the earth. I also remember my elder Don Luis Martinez telling me to be a Tlakaelel by creating stories to keep people motivated in the harsh times. Recently I attended a service in a border state, where one of the few refugees that youth has is the church, their environment in the most violent city of the world (Juarez) is torn by the degree of dehumanization. Their services have evolved into cuentos and narrative therapy sessions. I honestly do not know if I could come with anything to keep these youths minds motivated to keep on living and hoping. I see this magic embodied my many motivators or story tellers in all the places I have visited.
The appreciation of these experiences has made my work as a minister for the Native American church a lot easier, since these events have given me the skills to meet people where they are at, they may choose to be fully traditional or practice crossed fire (the syncretic format that uses Christian terms), and that either way is OK. When I think of this, I go back to a conversation that I had with a Boricua theologian in 1997 by the name of Edwin Aponte, who was also my advisor while I was leading my school’s Latin American Student Association. We were having major conflicts among the religious and political views of our members. I was angry and heart broken. Mr. Aponte told me to not take it seriously or too hard because what was going on in my friends lives was a very specific and somehow isolating issue pertaining to the perspectives of two Christian denominations, and that focusing on that for me would become much more painful. He was quiet for a moment and calmly said to me, you may see different roads and people’s lives as you walk through the realm of the spirit, yet your journey is a different one than that of your friends, and one day it will make sense. This advice, added to the teaching of my uncle Wa Anata (Harry Charger) that focus on respect, responsibility, compassion and accountability have made me evolve, be of service and appreciate the interconnectedness of it all.
So here is how my guacamole spread in my tostada of life, how I make sense of all that I have witnessed and transformed my character and my soul, and the way in which that which is mysterious and alive, que se siente y se ve, that is seen and felt manifest in my heart to celebrate the sagrado and the humane in the embodiment of the church, the people, la familia and the heart:
I celebrate the church (any church) the group or the ceremonial circle that sees spirituality as applied wisdom, the church that is able to go and meet with the kids in the barrio and the hood or the favela; The one that doesn’t see empowerment just as another way to force itself on others, but the one that sees that their own members get educated and liberated by their service to others.
I honor the church that acknowledges the evils that have been done in the name of good and holds itself and others accountable, the same church that during the sermon or study session also addresses issues of addiction and unemployment; not from a judgmental place, but as place to find hope and that creates an environment for people to go and find a haven for their soul. This is the same church that walks a path of liberation with Mon Senor Romero and Camilo Torres.
I respect and support he church focused on inclusion, at times by holding hands with Gay teenagers locked out of their houses while they struggle with hate and fear, the same church that doesn’t get scared by gay love and believes in compassion by reaching out and dialoguing with those who oppose them by recognizing the sagrado in them as well. I acknowledge the church that believes in non-violence and at times peaceful intervention (thank you CPT) even if it cost them their life. I support the church that is not afraid to break uncivil laws, include everyone, welcome everybody and acknowledges everyone, the same church that educates and eradicates the darkness in the minds and hearts. That which celebrates life, that which is propelled by love.
A history or family values, cultural survival and human emotions bring the entire world together. The common challenges are our own unhealthiest traits as humans. Yet, if we chose to be there we would fail to see love for the land, youth and government willing to acknowledge real issues, spirits of resistance, a smile in a grandma’s face, food in a land of need, and life blooming in the middle of the desert or the hood. Regardless of whom we are. Or who is in front of me, I chose to not criticize or label others, and to open my eyes and awaken my conscience. It is a humbling feeling, I no longer know where I belong, yet I am at home with all the diverse manifestations of the sagrado. Regardless of what more educated theologians and religious figures may say, being in this world with its people, working with them even for a minute, and giving the voice of my people, is working and giving a voice for the sagrado. That and to be one of the people wherever I roam is what counts for me. Being in this world working with youth, in areas of conflict, or doing development work is part of my relationship to the sagrado and my liberation, and no one can take it away or define it for me, so I cannot define it for others, yet I am willing to be with them to walk on a path of spiritual pluralism that works for a better world.

Buffy Sainte Marie - No No Keshagesh

2011-09-03T16:40:00.000-07:00

If you know the background song you know something about contemporary NATAM movements

Geronimo E-KIA, a poem by the 1491s

2011-08-27T18:16:00.000-07:00

One day

2011-08-22T20:48:00.000-07:00

One day the long road to dignity will be walked
As the dust settles
My family will go back to the farmland
We will have a table made out of volcanic stone
and oversee Logio's milpa from inside
a brand new jacal

The red coyote will call the animas
of our generations past
my grandmas will sing alabanzas
to caress the desert
and receive the sun

we will be fragil and wise
strong and calm
as our children play
I will sat with my ancient ones in a big circle
Tia Jani will have some café con leche
While dipping a concha
In the memories
of those who came before

Mainly
garambullos and tunas
cardones and maguelles
pulque salsa and frijoles
The nostalgia of living
Will mix with the warmth in my heart

ABQ one

2011-07-28T22:53:00.000-07:00

Tlacuache was holding by his tail
While walking by paths
Of fancy soles
On dusty roads
Of delicate shoes
Running
Over paved souls
Giving everything up
To regain control

See only to Tlacuache can this occur
Finding the tropic
In the middle of the desert
Smiles in serious faces
Daylight in the middle of the pain
Madness in the middle of the sane
And firm footing
While fleeing through the air
All
By recreating his own death…

The good dance (one more year)

2011-07-11T09:14:00.001-07:00

As we receive the sun
we get to see the small
and we get to see the whole

as we lay in silence
we see everything unroll
we get to hear the growth
of our roots in new soil

and as we send our voice
our hearts
our souls
we get to witness in the darkness
the interconnection
the humility
the love
that makes it all better
while dancing to the sun

See you somewhere!!

La bendicion

2011-06-05T22:53:00.000-07:00

Nana nina
I am
A thousand miles away from home
A thousand miles close
To the place my heart was born
Closer to my roots
Yet far away
From the cold city
Where I have become
Right at the epicenter
Of the new battles of my soul

Duwiges
let me tell you
I had to walk
For the day arrived
When cloth and flesh
Could not take being stuck
Between comfortable contradictions
Of fancy soles
On dusty roads
Of delicate shoes
Running
Over paved hearts
Of living fully rooted
While oppression grows strong
How to be granma?
How to take this?

Therefore
Tonight
I come to you
Ixa nana
Wise old one
I ask
For your song
Your love
Your sending of a voice

Old owl woman
May your star covered shawl
Cover me
While on this road
Of pursuing passion
That hurts the bones
Of borders imposed by force
Of love divided
Where distances and time
Are nothing

Curandera
May your songs
Comfort me
Among these turquoise dreams
And aching wounds
Of sun and greed
Dusty morals
And deserted paths

Grandma
May your sacred herbs
Oven cooked food
And nixtamal mixed corn
Heal me
From the injuries obtained
While climbing
Watermelon mountains
Dodging
Minute men bullets
And politics covered
with racial overtones

In this life of madness
Of joy and thorn poles
In this world
Of beautiful joy
Disguised oppression
And blooming love
Ultima
With your hands of effort
With your words of patience
With your eyes of dawn
I hope that
You bless me too…

De los amores

2011-05-03T21:47:00.000-07:00

One in espanyol (for diversity of course)

Si no me piensas
Yo no existo
de los amores
he perdido los suficientes
de los herrores
he Ganado
lo que han tenido

Si no me piensas
Yo no existo
Si ya no me buscas
Donde me encuentro
Si no suenas
Ya no canto
Si no sonries
Ya no hay alas
Si no me piensas
Ya no existo…

El poder del abrazo

2011-04-18T09:00:00.000-07:00

When

2011-04-05T22:10:00.000-07:00

When I listen out of love
and not concern
all of you
dear ones
become real
all of you become whole
part of the reality
of justice
dignity
peace
and joy
that I want to see
and live
in this world...

And now Mapache owes me a poem!!

Bad Indians, a poem by Ryan Red Corn

2011-03-28T08:56:00.000-07:00

From your hands

2011-03-27T15:45:00.000-07:00

(Previously published in la vida mapachesca)

You invite me

To let go of all leftover sanity

When you tell me to let things flow

To embrace

To accept

And not to reason

And suddenly

My grouchy soul

Finds comfort

Gains its freedom

And my ego deflates

I witness in disbelief

How your fingertips

Play with the strings of my fears

And turn broken bones

And shattered dreams

Into harmonious scars

And calm music

Who are you?

Whom can touch baby skin

In my cynical self

That has been burnt

By life’s hot coals

Who are you?

That with your eyes of sweet jade

Takes away my sleep

Murmurs soft joy into my head

Making my temperature go up

And my heart

To skip

Or accelerate a beat

Who are you?

Who jokingly

And effortlessly

Takes down my war shield

Made up of harsh winters

And fake cold stares

Who are you?

You

The beautiful

Me

That which is clumsy

You

Passionate

Me

Fragile glass

You

Strong

Me

Without rest

We

Come together

In this place

Your place that smells

Of fire under the clouds and stars

We

Stop the time

By fusing stares

In each others arms

Mysteriously

My judgments and aches

My sorrows and my madness

Dissipate

When

My being finds itself anew

In your soft kiss

And the flowers

That bloom

From your hands…

Human stuff

2011-03-14T21:04:00.000-07:00

Tlacuache woke up...

2011-03-08T21:32:00.001-08:00

Tlacuache woke up
With the song of cold days
And warm wars
To a new version of the self
Asking himself
Broken or anew?
No one knows
To properly diagnose no one will
He got up slowly
Not trusting the senses
Cracked his sore back
And smiled at the sight
Of his never healing scars
Tlacuache put on his smoking mirror
Washed his face with cold water
And shaved his balding tail
Took a deep breath
And stood still for a second
On a path he never stopped
The years past
Tlacuache shed a couple of tears
And looked into the deep corners
Of himself
Where all the old and the new
That what has been won and lost
Merge
Where all new life
Comes from the generations past
Where from so much coming and going
From so much rooting and flowing
He lost the greater sense of self…

Wopila

2011-02-28T22:34:00.000-08:00

Hunka
Wa' anata told me once
At times
A tear is the most humble
And sincere way
To send a prayer
And to show gratitude

Today I say
Mitakuyapi
Wopila tanka
Lemiyelo
Eha luta hoksila
Yolotecutli
and I send my voice...

Mapache and Tlacuache take a ride

2011-02-26T21:51:00.000-08:00

Mapache and Tlacuache were on the road
Tlacuache said:
-We have to be careful
They always get activists through two means
One of them being weapons
Mapache responded:
- Well, we got none in the car
I know I didn’t bring any
Tlacuache replied while preparing his cigar:
-What about our brains and pens?
Mapache continued to drive in silence
A drop of cold sweat running by the side of his head…

The madness in me

2011-02-23T21:13:00.000-08:00

Inspired by my friend Jodi Tamminga and Sandra Cisneros, of course!

A spark of your light
Turns into a wild fire in my deep self
You bring the aggressive and melodic Cumbia in me
The Aguardientico and sweat mix in me
The Trova Cubana, Huapango and Vallenato in me
And suddenly
I am living rhythm

When I feel weak
Your words of support
Turn my weak roots
Into iron will deep inside of me
You bring the strength out of me
And suddenly
I am a Ceiba tree

Often times I feel powerless
Then
Your words of love
Bring out the stoic hero in me
The Pablo Neruda
And Eduardo Galeano in me
And suddenly
Everything has meaning again
And my history
And my word
Are my bond

A few times I feel lost and hopeless
Then your songs of wings and love
Bring out the Comandanta Ramona in me
The Tupac Amaru and Chipintantinegua in me
You bring the unconquered Indian in me
The warrior in me
And I get ready to work for a future
Of dignity
Where I walk next to you
And you get
The sweetness in me
The clown in me
The innocence in me
The laughter in me
The best of me…

Colectivo Koman Ilel: A 15 años de los acuerdos de San Andrés

2011-02-21T22:29:00.000-08:00

Colectivo Koman Ilel: A 15 años de los acuerdos de San Andrés: "En estos tiempos en que los grandes consorcios de comunicación no hacen más que fabricar -en contubernio con el gobierno- una “guerra contra..."

As we become

2011-02-15T21:02:00.000-08:00

Those who we love
Will never die
For they take a part ourselves with them
And they forever are carried
In a place
In our hearts

May the new ones
Be the best of who we are
May the new ones be
Love
Justice
Respect
Responsibility
Compassion
And accountability
A dignified version
Of ourselves

Ce tlacatl
Ce cihualtl
Ome
Teotl...

Hippie Zen

2011-02-13T15:03:00.000-08:00

Wise old hippie Steve said:

When we allow our heart to be transformed
Our perspective about things changes
And the whole world becomes a magical place….
(And the room suddenly was filled with light, seriously!)

No from here, or de alla

2011-02-03T21:25:00.000-08:00

Once again
It becomes present
The
Dislocation of the self
Not from here
Not from there

Back there
17 springs shaped me
Up here
18 winters have chilled my bones

Many loves
Have melted my guards

Much prejudice
Has thickened my skin

A thousand causes
Have given strength to my back

Many hands
Have nurtured
My scars

Half here
Half there

The cold and the heat
the corn and the wheat

The pain and the friendship
Lead me day to day
To smile
Accepting
How perpetually incomplete
I am...

Lancho said

2011-02-02T21:53:00.000-08:00

This, my mama told me

Lil’ Basho
The world is full of beauty
When the heart
Is full of love…

CARTA A LOS AZTECAS DE UN CHINO

2011-02-01T18:28:00.000-08:00

On winter time

2011-01-29T23:31:00.001-08:00

On winter time
Of Sunday days
I think of Borge’s gardens
Full of the bones of my past lives
And Billie Holiday sings to me
Of light and dust settling
To let the sun rays come through
In days full of darkness
In nights with absence of hope
The clarity arrives
When I remember
That souls cannot be chained
Notions of forgiveness
Calm sunburn wounds
Detachment of fondness
Quenches thirsty unaccompanied souls
And warm chai
Erases the fear of having you
Or not
Good music and poetry
Fix my spirit broken bones
Between the smoke and snow
Doves take flight still
And Mr. Silvio reminds me
Of what I already knew
Loving is not a topic for cowards
Crying can be for the self
Gaping holes in the skin do not mean
That you are the one hurt
And succumbing to fear
Leads
To inevitable
Loss of love…

La Jornada en Internet: El caminar de un teólogo hacia la liberación de los más los necesitados

2011-01-24T10:15:00.000-08:00

La Jornada en Internet: El caminar de un teólogo hacia la liberación de los más los necesitados

Kolabal Tatic!

bum, bum, bum

2011-01-15T11:57:00.000-08:00

The drum wakes me up every night now
calling me to war
calling me to walk
calling me to act now

in a beauty way
in a good relation with the earth

and the song of life comes undone
and the dance of spring arrived early

I feel blessed
and the steps I take
make me to look down
for what's genuine
for what is really love
for what's really growth

and as I wake up
the beat doesn't stop
I pause for a moment
to find out
that the pounding
is my heart now

Cop16

2010-12-09T14:56:00.000-08:00

A couple of cartoons that according to my friends attending, summarizes the whole thing

Mexico's post-revolt farm struggle

2010-11-20T10:59:00.000-08:00

Zapata
Nican can!
Yaotltlatlolli
Nican can!

ECOUTEZ LA COLERE DU PEUPLE!

2010-11-09T19:38:00.000-08:00

We say no to fear
For it dehumanizes
And normalizes
The fake word
And creates a confused world

At the bottom of this
The reality of inequality
Manifested in the empty stomach
The confusion
Manifested by the angry fist
The frustration
Manifested in the tears
The will to live
Manifested by the blood spilled

We say yes
To de desire to live
The fire in the youth
And the support found
In a honest smile
A tender hug
And sincere handshake

We chose to be
Corn
Mud
Water
And ferment
That inebriates
The police raid in peaceful soil
The politician’s lies
And the corporate soul

Once again
Today we say
LIBERTE
EGALITE
FRATERNITE!

The Real Tuesday Weld - Last Words

2010-11-06T13:15:00.000-07:00

Manifestation of courage

2010-11-05T14:50:00.000-07:00

To define this, the wise old hippie said:

Just open your heart

speak from it

and listen with it...

El Contragolpe

2010-11-03T19:17:00.000-07:00

Y ahora veras...

2012

2010-11-02T08:20:00.000-07:00

Broken Rainbow - Part 1 of 7

2010-10-28T05:34:00.000-07:00

The arrival

2010-10-26T14:45:00.000-07:00

It seemed obvious
Upon the return
It had taken hold
Of the clear areas of the room

Bold
Not quiet

And I’ll spend all night
Being swallowed by a bed
Too big for me

Not believing in reruns
Or film noir songs

And I’ll spend my nights
Crying
Wondering
Why
Why
Why
You had to unleash a tornado of anger
Upon my bones of glass
With your testimony of fear
Of not wanting to be here
That has as silent witness
The empty spaces of the house

I have decided to share
A makeshift canoe to cross the sea
Yet
your own hands
Where unnecessary anchors
While trying to cross
in the middle of the storm

And I’ll spend all night
crying
Being swallowed by a bed
Too big for me

Slowly
The negative outcome of the truth
Arrived
As birds migrated
As the memories and laughter faded
And it became clear
You were already absent
Long before
you left...

"Tu Nombre"

2010-10-22T14:54:00.000-07:00

Here we are...

2010-10-20T07:42:00.001-07:00

So we may never be lost
We have become refugees
In the land of the promised freedom
By the way of force
Yet we fail to be
The well groomed TV versions of ourselves
And the disguises that they made
We learn to use to fake their lack of depth

We don’t fall for their traps
Of dollar signs and fading dreams
We see how it kidnaps people in their our land

We seem disperse and alien to each other
But our aunties cooking brings us in
Our fathers effort makes us be present to each other
Our mothers strength gives us will
The children and grandparents
Give us a reason to live

Shambhala warriors in the Babylon city
Hikuri people in the middle of starving souls
Light of humility in the middle of the reign of greed

Multicultural kilombo of freedom
The drum and song lift our spirit
The children and the elders
Let us see what is real
Spirit let us feel what they can’t see

We come together
When we find in our hearts freedom
That can’t be bought
We share our stories
Our love
Our suffering
And together
We find
A place to be
A place to grow
And heal
Nurtured
Under the same sun…

At the despedida

2010-10-17T19:33:00.000-07:00

As the Bhutanese said gracias,
The paisa said namaste..

Sometimes I really like this place!

Joe Vasconcellos - Hijo del Sol Luminoso

2010-10-16T22:07:00.000-07:00

The living-walking dignity

2010-10-11T16:45:00.000-07:00

This is dignidad
Said the grandma
With long silver hair
Callused hands
An iron will
And a coyote’s stare

She stated eloquently
I am brown
Like the earth under my feet
And that of which I am a daughter
My back is strong
From carrying a thousand sacks
Filled with slavery, genocide
Gold, iron and oil

I have a wounded left knee
It aches with pain and joy
It reminds me of injustice
Yet, it tells me that I am bold
And that we all
can be strong

I have pierced arms
That can move mountains
And bend political wills
I have an aching chest
That prays with song
My hair is long and braided
It carries our story
Honor
And reminds us
That we are corn

Here
Our hearts are open

Out there
their ears are closed
Their voices are empty
They have lost their road

Here
Our mouths say our own word
And our legs
Make our own path

This is what the wise one say
And does
While she continues to wave
Her people’s history
At the caracol….

Los inmigrantes - Eduardo Galeano

2010-10-06T13:04:00.000-07:00

My Poema 20

2010-10-03T09:50:00.000-07:00

From Neruda
I learned this
That my soul is not happy
With the truth of a life lost
In a thousand years of culture
Loneliness finds rain
And joy can bring pain
to the depths of the soul

from Frida
I learned
that heart break
Can be an inspiration
Absent of a muse
Or the reason of

at a hot dog stand
The epiphany arrives
That perfect love
Arrived in
Those little things
That filled the days
And that today
Refuse to stay
In the list
Of my promises to keep
Of my dreams to fulfill…

See Pablo!
I also can write the saddest poems tonight

The little (seasons and things)

2010-09-30T19:56:00.000-07:00

As a black cat serenades me
With metaphysical discourses
And prayer calls
The getting used to
Fails me miserably

But I know
That just like September
November existed
And that everything should pass

Memories had to leave
Yet they don’t cease to exist
In the autumn of my heart

Soon
the time of the peaches
will give room to apple picking season
and we will wonder
if love can be perennial
and after a long winter
with the arrival of the spring
can find fertile ground to bloom

we gather in what’s left
of the warmth of the room
of what’s left
of the warmth in our souls
while I sing under the stars
in my nights full of smoke
how I wish you were here…

Irony Haiku

2010-08-04T12:10:00.001-07:00

The white smoke rose
Giving a signal of days to come
The things I never thought of
And the dangers of roses
In the middle of the thorns...

How to Solve Illegal Immigration

2010-05-05T21:48:00.000-07:00

Another world

2010-04-22T15:22:00.000-07:00

As we eradicate the darkness
Purple flowers bloom

As we sing of hope
The birds announce the coming of the sun

As we dance like crazy
The hope lives at the caracol

As we dream of farms and goats
Our work produces joy

As we brew with mother
Our steps become strong

Today
The kisses that you give me
Give me a green heart full of life
And remind me
That another world
Is possible
For us
And all…

The other smoke signals

2010-04-22T15:14:00.000-07:00

Huey tlatokah

2010-04-20T20:22:00.001-07:00

Proceso - 2010

2010-04-20T20:12:00.001-07:00

Proceso - 2010

YouTube - subcomandante marcos sin pasamontañas

2010-04-12T16:04:00.001-07:00

Pa que se den un quemon

YouTube - Se alistan para su boda

2010-03-10T18:42:00.001-08:00

Sorry for the absence! Been pretty busy dealing with life.

In the meantime, a story of love, freedom, and justice

, Congrats, Que Chingon!..

HUEHUETLATOLLI Parte 1

2010-02-01T21:20:00.001-08:00

El paraíso de los canallas · ELPAÍS.com

2010-01-24T09:58:00.001-08:00

El paraíso de los canallas · ELPAÍS.com

Del falso positivo a la falsa absolución · ELPAÍS.com

2010-01-13T20:34:00.001-08:00

Del falso positivo a la falsa absolución · ELPAÍS.com

Paisano day

2009-12-30T20:55:00.001-08:00

A reccount form my state

http://www.proceso.com.mx/rv/modHome/detalleExclusiva/75169

Our own gathering

2009-12-16T19:39:00.000-08:00

The big man
With big words
And shinny shoes
Claims that he knows best
Than the ones made of corn
The ones of the color of the earth
Yet
When the rubber meets the road
The promises of help go away
And the excuses and justifications walk in

The wishful thinking of the ones in power
Is that death will arrive quickly
By pollution
Deforestation
Crude oil spills
Sadness
Longing for the old times
And the lost land
Cultural genocide
Or a lucky bullet
From a paramilitary’s gun

As so much darkness accumulates
In the backs of the ones who walk low
They believe that the will of the people is dead
And they go back to the comfort
Of transgenic corn
And dream of harvesting large GDP’s
From barren lands

Yet
For this degree of madness
There’s a ray of light
In the sounds of the gathering of nations
Smiles blooming
In the eyes of children
Accompanied by the hearts
Of warriors, elders and healers
Of generations past
We lift the darkness
For life and death are the same to us
And because they don’t know
That we are one
We are one
We are one…

Chuntareando the anniversary

2009-11-30T19:58:00.000-08:00

It's hard to believe that this little experiment has been around for three years now!It has gotten hard to find the time to post, but it continues to be fun and fulfilling.
I promise to keep at it

Ueeepa!!!

Seeing while flying and sleeping

2009-11-23T22:18:00.001-08:00

I dreamt of you

While taking a deep look within me
as high as I had ever been
as far I had traveled yet

the ghosts of of visions past
blurred my sight and desires

and your silhouette manifested itself
not as what I wanted to see
but
as mystery
of another story of love
while I was desperate
and condemned and yielded
to that which is beyond understanding

then
one day
while awake
you opened the door
to your labor of love
your heart
and my madness
while I reassured you
that dry pears are awesome
wikis are traditional dances
that it is OK to laugh in nightmares
and confessed to you
that if one day
you decide to fall in your sleep
you should know that I'll be there
to tickle and catch you
because that's where I first saw you
the day that I dreamt

the darkness where I lived
ended a day long before I met you
when I dreamt of you

Digging deep

2009-11-12T14:27:00.000-08:00

I got bobby’s small axe
The will of the mountain coming to me
And walk yonder
The injustice sleeps

I refuse to see more death
When what fuels me is life
The warmth of my beloved
Inebriates my nights
And allow my skin
To refuse pain

Valiant stubbornness
Risk and madness
Huapango and blues
Drum and smoke
Shake my soul
And to the beauty of life
Makes me attuned
To sing
To the pile of madness
An unlikely song
Where genocide tryouts
Last a lit match
In a thousand years of culture
Loneliness finds community
In the depths of the soul
And heart break
Can be an inspiration

The grassroot organizing dream

2009-11-08T21:37:00.000-08:00

The monsters under my bed
And the skeletons in my closet
Have agreed
To help me move my feet
And raise my fist

La Jornada en Internet

2009-11-05T09:50:00.001-08:00

La Jornada en Internet

Posted using ShareThis

Dos de Octubre

2009-10-01T21:43:00.000-07:00

The lesson not learned from history
Burns in the hearts more than ever
Even if the battered official word says
Nothing
Nothing happened
No one died
No one saw
No one knows

the pain and hope
the fury and love
of those
who keep on walking
towards a more just world
do not allow us
to suffer from memory loss
dos de octubre
no se olvida…

Chichimeca Zen

2009-09-09T14:05:00.000-07:00

I no longer feel I know
what means to be home
(Have I ever?)

and I no longer see
a place for innocence
in the world

Sometimes I feel
that all is gone and lost
the memory of the people
their heart
and love

flute
drum
and song
silenced
by the barefooted pilgrimage
to the headquarters of common sense
attached to the chains
of progress

yet
if I sit still
and let my heart be
I find a tiny spark in my being
that feels and thinks
it is a wild summer fire
in the old plains

and awakes in me
warming passions
and rebel thoughts

I shed away the cloth of class
and feel the wind of freedom in my bare skin

I trade boots for huaraches
and warm comfort for dignity

And I won't let the greed get me
for I am covered with romero and smoke
garlic, tobacco and salt harvested
from the sweat of millions
and politicians broken promises
The fiery embrace of the anger in youth
and my grandma's star filled shawl

I look at the stars and see the light
of years to come

I look down
and the mother tells me
that she will always be there to embrace
and to go on

so
once again
I paint my face black and red
and with the echo
of thousands of elders
I go out into the world
chisel, paint, staff and poem in hand
to make the changes
that the world needs to be made...

Argentina's Food Farmers Trumped by Soy

2009-09-03T19:58:00.001-07:00

Son of Pakal

2009-08-15T21:14:00.001-07:00

Votan Zapata descended with the sun
While the serpent and the mountain reminded us
Of the songs of the earth
The wisdom of the fire
The strength of the spirits
And the suffering of the people

Tupac Amaru stood strong
While horses tried unsuccessfully
to pull his body apart
the new Runas amazed
without realizing that he was
not of flesh
but of Inti’s rays of light

Chipantintegua stood still
Like a saguaro and stalk of corn
In the dessert and the sierra
Doing battle
Feeding hikuri
Strength
joy
rattle and song
for those yet unborn

that was then
yet the invading forces still wait in vain
to have ambition grow
in the hearts of those color of the earth
and pulque
to make theirs souls go numb

Silly them
They'll wait in pain
for the first people’s do not need a face
they have a voice
tobacco
dreams
strong hands
chonta-like will
legs to walk and dance
and hope

as my eyes fill with stars
and walk on this caracol of love
A jaguar’s cub tells me
I am
From Emiliano Zapata!

and it all becomes whole...

My answer to the Mexican Supreme Court (My love will kick your law’s butt)

2009-08-13T14:51:00.000-07:00

Dedicated to the victims of Acteal
and the peace group Las Abejas

The fiery and justified rage
Adds to the rebel spirit of indigenous autonomy
And dignity

And today
I say that we
The nobodies
The non-seen
Still have a barefooted heart
That cannot be conquered
We dare to dream
And we care to share our feelings
And to keep on walking
Our skin carries the color and smell of the earth
And we irrigate our seeds with love
Therefore we
The ones down
The ones of the sacred roots
And the ones that against impunity
And lack of memory
Use our spirits
Smiles
prayers
And history of ancient peace and wisdom
Will always be here
Upon the venerable earth
And our beautiful dead
To one day
As a Ceiba sprout
Grow with our hope
Dance and song
To celebrate
The morning of compassion
Justice
Freedom
And joy!

Xochitl Cihuatl

2009-08-09T11:11:00.000-07:00

Marchantita
Bring me flowers
To the doors of my soul

Product of your labor and love
The strength of your hands
The courage of your faith
And the harshness of the times

Marchantita
You give me the smells
The colors
Of a life anew
The strength of the earth
The humility in your heart
And the joy
That’s still to bloom..

My ancient voice

2009-08-03T20:29:00.000-07:00

Huehueteotl...

Open my mind
to see in the world
the true
apart
of what's not

Old one
Allow me to be
a piece of your ancient bark
in a plastic land

give me the chance to forgive
in places
full of fear and anger in this world

Ancient mistery
give me
wisdom to apologize

dignity
and will to share

to descend
in order to move forward

to have discipline
in order to be wild

to close my eyes
to learn to see

to be quiet
and learn to hear

to open my heart
to be strong

to give it all
to win the world

Ometeotl!....

Globaliphilic nightmare

2009-07-27T22:04:00.000-07:00

As the long run warrior would say;
Even after they think they got away with it
a lil pesky indian would show up
to show them that they have
a 517yr old stone
in their shoe...

Global Pendejismo

2009-07-23T17:55:00.000-07:00

While the all knowing European drunk
With weak beliefs
Harsh opinions
And soft hands
Shows that he knows better
And all the right answers
Scolds
His well-intentioned friends
That still dare to dream
He fails to see
The magic that surrounds him
And is unable to appreciate
The revolutionary power
Of the simple things
The flowers in bloom
The honesty of ones heart
And a small doze of love...

Yaotl

2009-07-20T10:53:00.000-07:00

It was pure sobriety
poured cold
over my aching bones
The words of the old lady
with braids that touched the floor
and a smile that lifted spirits
as soon as I walked on the place
-You are a warrior!- she said
Quickly I answered
I do what I can
She replied
- Yes, that's why you are one!

No medal
prize
or honor song
could have the same effect
to make me humble
to feel caught
shy
committed
strengthened
and full of courage
as the recognition
she gave me
with those words...

Indigenous women of San Cristobal: In search for a place in the globalized world and the local society.

2009-07-19T15:19:00.001-07:00

The following is the result of various conversatiobs with indigenous men and women struggling for their subsistence in San Cristobal de las Casas

To be Indigenous and female in the American continent (also known as Cemanahuac Tewatzinsuyo) equals to be vulnerable to all the prejudices of society, the historical ones and contemporary, to not be seen and to be the victim of choice. The presence of indigenous women in San Cristobal de las Casas in the state of Chiapas Mexico is connected to many peoples lifestyle factors and some contemporary issues. Traditionally the city was the place to go and sell their products, attend religious festivities and take care of legal matters. nowadays this is only partially true.

Many of the women living in the town are displaced due to the violence in their communities, the political tensions, religious differences and because as women they were unable to make a living back in their communities; The reason most common for this being displacement of their whole families, their husbands, and migration of them and their male sons to Mexico city or the US, this also makes it harder for them to survive in a traditional manner. This forced relocation, creates Indian ghettos, just like the ones created by the BIA in the US. these sprout in the outskirts of the city of San Cristobal and lack the most basic services and urban planning. The women that inhabit these improvised neighborhoods have to find a way to earn a living that is different from the one they had in their communities of origin.

The indigenous women of San Cristobal are in a constant struggle for their subsistence and the one of their families. They sell candy and food, weavings, entertain, prostitute themselves, baby sit, clean houses, wash clothes, pour drinks, pose for pictures, etc. among this hectic situation they also try to find a place where they can claim belonging, however the rest of the society is not willing to recognize them as people that matter. People often chase them away from public spaces; these people are not inspectors or police officers, they are citizens concerned with the "good" appearances of the town. This gives room to a now common trend among indigenous women in San Cristobal that is spreading all over Mexico, the guerrilla marketing of their products. This consists of carrying whatever you trying to sell, cigarettes, fruit, weavings, etc. and pick a corner, then try to sell as much of it as you can for a period no longer than 40 minutes, hopefully before an inspector shows up or a concerned citizen removes you.

The city is pretty "relaxed" in allowing people to sell their goods in front of the main cathedral with one condition, set up is only allowed after 9:30pm, when only the party goers are out. The women are also discriminated by the hippies, ladinos and foreigner craft sellers and street performers that abound in the town and who fight for them for the public spaces where these various groups attempt to earn a living. Its is ironic how the concerned citizens are demanding and abusive towards the indigenous people, yet they turn docile and willing to serve those who are foreign, light skinned, or with European physical traits. Its stunning to witness this transformation.

The question that many pose is, where are the men? they can't all be victims of violence or migration. The answer is complex. Many point out to the shortcomings of men or try to portray them as alcoholics or lazy. No matter how true some of these assumptions may be at times, it is also truth is that is harder to market yourself as a dark, non Spanish-speaking indigenous male to a foreign tourist clientele, which is what dominates the work industry in the town. The tourists want to see the friendly sirvienta (servant), not the face of their gardener or construction worker back at home selling them crafts of pouring their coffee. Just like in any other part of the world, many men, old and young that try to be supportive succumb to the pressures of providing for a family and bail out or simply cannot make ends meet. added to this there's a hard reality added to the mix, right now Mexico has the lowest development rate in the whole continent.

San Cristobal relies on the labor of the indigenous people for its survival, they produce the majority of the products in the markets, being meat the only industry that is fully controlled by foreigners and wealthy Mexican ranchers. These are careful to hire nice mestizos that are not revolt prone like the Indians. The agriculture of the region still produces, yet this is too far from being something that really provides a significant income for the people that work the fields. The cause for this is the absence of proper remuneration for the products of their labor. The production of the peasants is usually purchased at a low price and resells at a much higher one. There are Fair-trade efforts, however these are still a minority in the commodities market. The effort of gaining a fair payment for their products is one of historical proportions in Mexico, and one has to consider that Chiapas is one of the states that was never stage of any part of the 1910's revolution that attempted to achieve justice for those who work the land.

The people that visit Chiapas get to see a romanticized or clean version of the town, this manifestation of gentrification is the same one that shows trendy neighborhoods in other parts of the world. They find the stereotypical margaritas, flowery shawls, cuisine that is passed as authentic in order to match their knowledge of Mexican dishes back at home. people get a culture in a package at cool places, these do not cater to the indigenous they are not allowed unless they work there. every night, when the performance of the day is over, the indigenous women go back to the outskirts of the city, to spend the night in make shift houses that are not seen by the people that visit the town.

Ironically there's a mystified image of Maya people, yet individuals fail to recognize the people in front of them as such or of value. The real people are too far away from the Hollywood imagery and new age books and workshops. While a tourist buys an expensive amber medallion with a pseudo Mayan calendar sign on it, the last midwives in the area are selling underpaid weavings, cleaning houses and dying of old age, their knowledge in their heads, the one that the tourist glamourizes about, is lost forever. The harsh truth that few want to acknowledge is that the indigenous population has been robbed of their cultural meanings and icons, these belong now to anthropologists in ivy league universities and to spiritual gurus that are not Mayan or indigenous. added to this bio piracy has taken its toll on indigenous women in San Cristobal, oftentimes a much willing curandera living in the city, shares hers and her culture's knowledge only to have it literally stolen by an educational institution of pharmaceutical company. In Mexico the immaterial cultural patrimony is not protected, leaving indigenous groups to fend for themselves.

There's a misunderstanding about why people visit San Cristobal and that have a more socially aware perception of things. That of supporting the Zapatista movement. However, the Zapatista causes and dreams that these people look for are in the streets ,surviving and in the communities outside of San Cristobal. These well intentioned people flood the restaurants and cultural centers that do not cater to the indigenous population and that are fool of Pseudo Zapatista memorabilia trying to make money out of the movement. The real centers and human rights institutions that support the Zapatistas and other communities that work for the improvement of their living conditions and the exercise of their human rights are under constant harassment from the governmental security agencies under the nations current application of the plan Merida.

There's a stone in the shoe of the well to do people in the city, and even if they do not like it, the indigenous women are the public face of San Cristobal. The tourist industry uses and grinds them just like the Maquiladora system does to women in other parts. They are the majority of the people hired in the businesses, often for way too small of a salary, they are objects of many abuses, and when they decide to quit in case that they are not fired. There are plenty more young women willing to endure unjust labor conditions. The town relaxes its grip on the women when is convenient for its image, when the high tourist season starts and the Indian image is in demand, they are allowed to cautiously step into a more public arena, this phenomena has been disturbed by the current instability due to the global economic crisis and swine flu scare that have chased visitors away.

In San Cristobal one might not see sweatshops, yet they are there, one might not find any racist literature, yet racism its is very well known and acted upon, china-made weavings sell in the store fronts and are advertised as the products of authentic Maya people. The town is full of excess and contradictions. To the ruling social groups discontent, there's dignity, awareness, education and a growing trend in native women to not look down on themselves. They organize and educate each other on and about fighting the triple oppression given to them by history; that of being women, indigenous and poor. This bout between being indigenous and proud versus Mexico's historical abuse creates a world of possibility. Notions of equality and justice are sprouting all over the city. The Zapatista women philosophies with their women's revolutionary law have spread all over Mexico and many other parts of the world that become aware of the struggle of indigenous women of Chiapas.
.

Currently various associations and international NGOs are supporting the struggle of these women to regain the use of their cultural symbols, spaces and communication forms; which they do not have and deserve access to. the opportunity to encounter themselves in spaces as equal subjects which also gives them the characteristics of community and of an identity of a specific group of people (Chamulas, Zinacantecos, Choles, Tzetzales,etc.), and that also differentiates them from other groups. A culture of inclusion and tolerance is the main catalyst to achieve this.

Liberation for Indigenous women in San Cristobal means fair opportunities to exercise their right to subsistence, economic equality, access to the "public" spaces, responsible use and preservation of the earth and its resources, cultural sovereignty, en the respect and exercise of their human rights. for those hoping for a quick solution a simple fact has to be 'brought up. It has taken 517 years for conditions to be like this for indigenous people in the continent, it is only just to believe that it will take a while to come back from there as a society.

Sustainable development has three major factors at its core, environments, economics, and sociopolitics. This attempts to meet the human needs, while at the same time restoring and preserving the earth and its resources in order to maintain it and meet those human needs in the present as well as in the future. It is resumed in finding a balance between human needs and the limits of the earth. acknowledgment of the rights of others to exists is part of this development. Once again, sustainability for indigenous women of Chiapas means working for human, land rights and economic justice. This in an equitable social environment where they are subjects, not objects of the public policies, which currently are not developed to reflect of include their realities. In a restorative justice approach, there needs to be serious growth in women's standard of living, education, community and equal opportunities. This will give as a result a fulfilling experience of living as indigenous women and human beings. Lastly, there has to be a global educational effort. This to create awareness, and make the impact of current efforts like the ones by the Zapatista women and various NGO's last. This will ensue the validation and continuation of the work and its relevance. The liberation of Indigenous women in San Cristobal de las Casas is the liberation of all women.; The respect of women equals respect for the earth and can be interpreted as sustainable development, achieving this will result in a just and equal society for all.

My walking around (one continent in 10 days)

2009-07-17T20:55:00.000-07:00

I tried to give up
holding to coherence
my soul got tangled
between sweet dreams
among fields
of fresh smelling grass
South Dakota plains
Lacandon Jungle rains
Zinacantan shawls
and revolutionary love

Regardless of a sense
of confusion and emptiness
my smile gives me
more comfort than ever before
the miracle of breathing
gives me answers
in this ever changing route
and the heart of the people
great joy
to be alive

My soul keeps on walking
crossing dimensions
borders
time
notions of good and evil
and from so much walking
lost sense of time
and self...

Quien tiene que perdonarnos

2009-07-16T19:05:00.001-07:00

Just like Paulo said

la revolucion del amor
de Chiapas
a la eternidad...

Happy, happy, joy, joy!

2009-07-16T18:06:00.000-07:00

I am so happy for the good things that happen to amazing people.
In this case I want to congratulate my tahashi Martin.
Welcome to fatherhood boludo!

Appreciation Song

2009-07-14T18:02:00.001-07:00

One more year
one more time
Mitakuyapi
Wopila waste
Wa, anata
Wopila tanka
Tunkasila
wanpe wi waste mayakuyelo!

Letter to SC (Believe me III)

2009-07-04T22:17:00.000-07:00

Here I am
sprout of corn
in barren times
on fertile land

believe me
when I say that I find love
walking between rain and smoke
among those barefooted
who have been denied entrance into heaven
not among titles and words
but flying low
among those
who are really free
and truth

here I am
the same piece of red stone
dented by the times
and the lack of justice

believe me
That I find solace for my anger
and pain
along the roads
of the jungle and the plains
between the street vendors
toothless smiles
and your arms

believe
That willingly I give my life
for that which I hold dear
That which is now a present past

believe
when I tell you with incense
and smolder
that I am not
of breakable steel
but of strong corn stems
not of stoic dogma
but of malleable tenderness
not of weak law
but of soft flowers of anarchy
and joy

believe
that I am happy
risking life and sanity
to right the wrongs of conquest
discrimination and pain
facing the dinosaur of prejudice
and stealing a tender kiss
from you

That 11 years
and five centuries later
I am still a flipped coin in the air
eagle and sun in constant duel
for the conquest of my madness
an that I finally find and look at myself
among rivers of life
streets full of violence
and next
to you

loneliness no longer burns
and the fear of life no longer exists
because in that way
I am...

yours
and
of the world...

The Nantzin

2009-06-30T15:06:00.000-07:00

The old woman sees me
she acknowledges me
an gets on her knees
we both come together
in life and prayer

she asks me where I am from
I tell her I am not from here
and she tells me
But you are one of us!

the tears of injustices past
cover my eyes
and roll down my face
the hope of the days to come
awakes in my heart

she doesn't know
that her presence
humbles me
her words ground me
her hands
inspire me
and her smile
gives me the world..

Los kaporales

2009-06-27T18:50:00.001-07:00

"Y aunque en mis piernas pongan cadenas
cuando yo bailo suenan cascabales.
Y mis caderas se enfrentan al látigo
con el que oprimen los capataces.
Porque los caporales nacimos bailando,
para enfrentar al destino que nos hizo estragos.
PORQUE LA DANZA Y LA MÚSICA
SEGUIRAN SIENDO ARMAS,
PARA QUIEN QUIERA Y SEPA EMPUÑARLAS"

How to face the storm

2009-06-26T11:51:00.000-07:00

I have never felt a more humbling, yet empowering sensation while singing the national anthem. as when I did at the caracol. These people not only knew the lyrics, they lived them everyday...

my skin wears the water of the jungle
the madness of my soul
the struggle of my people
the storms of the impunity
and the hope of the first nations

and as I walk between curtains
of smoke and posh
the songs of prayer
forgiveness and love
Show me
that there's nothing
We can do to stop the rain

yet there's something
more strong than a fiery wind
Paulo called it
the engine of revolution
Harry called it
the strongest medicine
I have seen it
from the jungle to the mountain
in the desert and the sea

in life
after many stormy clouds
and many crazy days
all that's left
is to be rescued
by its fortune
and for one to become
of virtue

it is
the fortune
and the power of love...

Felipa's Crafts

2009-06-23T15:19:00.000-07:00

Please visit this new blog:
http://artesaniasdefelipa.blogspot.com/

Currently I am suppporting a weaving coop in the town of Zinacantan. The purpose of my project is to promote sustainable development.
Sustainable development translates into opportunities for economic fairness and justice, access, responsible and respectful use and preservation of the land, sovereignty, and the respect of basic human rights of indigenous women.
let me know what you think!

Sad day ( Y ahora, quien podra ayudarme?)

2009-06-22T21:31:00.000-07:00

Today,
after four years of loyal help
of being my main companion
in many parts of the world
always working hard regardless of injury
my beloved
Ipod has
died...