The Magic of the Cities.

Zen promotes the rediscovery of the obvious, which is so often lost in its familiarity and simplicity. It sees the miraculous in the common and magic in our everyday surroundings. When we are not rushed, and our minds are unclouded by conceptualizations, a veil will sometimes drop, introducing the viewer to a world unseen since childhood. ~ John Greer

Friday, May 29, 2009

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Flores Nocturnas / Night Flowers

If seeds in the earth can turn into such beautiful flowers, what might not the heart of man become in its long journey toward the stars?
G.K. Chesterton


Gracias por su visita. / Thanks for visiting, its most appreciated.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

The Mannequin Maker

El Hacedor de Maniquis

Action is eloquence.
W. Shakespeare


Gracias por su visita. / Thanks for visiting, its most appreciated.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Free Market

And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years.
Abraham Lincoln

[ After 20 years of free market and free trade, ZERO development in our countries and now, a world recession, Neoliberalism, Bah! ]


Gracias por su visita. / Thanks for visiting, its most appreciated.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Encuentro / The Meeting

Encuentro / The Meeting
El increíble Rothko en su diario caminar, encontró caído de un árbol, un asustado pajarito al cual después de examinarlo detenidamente, de inmediato lo llevo con su veterinario, quien le dijo que tenia muy pocas probabilidades de sobrevivir, porque sin su madre, estos recién nacidos se niegan a alimentarse y mueren en dos o tres días.
Bueno, lleva dos, luce bien y esta comiendo, seguro el Increíble Rothko se lo sugirio, ojalá luche para salvarse y así vuele y contemple asombrado esta pequeña parte del mundo. Mayo 22 2009.

The incredible Rothko in his daily walk, found this fallen little bird and take care of it and invited to his cozy home.

Happy Friday and weekend!


Gracias por su visita. / Thanks for visiting, its most appreciated.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Sprayed Moods

Digital graffiti 7.

Street Gallery.

La Culpa / Guilt.

Sex is one of the nine reasons for reincarnation.
The other eight are unimportant.
From Sexus by Henry Miller.


Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Raindrops of May

Congratulations, you are alive. Here you are. Once, you weren’t here. And one
day, you won’t be. All your drama and trauma, all your ideas, all the things
you like and don’t like, all the things that happen that you judge your life by
are but a dream. Just a dream. Dreams are not to be taken lightly, but they
are dreams.

In the middle of all these dreams, there is a place within you where you can
truly be awake. In that awakening, there is no judgment. There aren’t issues
of good and bad, right and wrong. You are not judged. There are no yardsticks
and no races. Nobody is standing there saying, “You won” or “You lost.” Just a
beautiful reality that you are alive.

You have the ability to understand, to know, to admire. These are your
qualities. You have the ability to get angry and the ability to be calm. You
have the ability to be in turmoil and the ability to be in peace. Which do you use the most? Frustration. Anger. Disappointment.

Once in awhile, you actually find yourself happy. When you are, it is such a big deal that you think about it for years to
come. And when you get older and your short‑term memory goes, you will say, “I remember when I was there. Oh, that was so beautiful.”

You have some other qualities: You can appreciate this existence. You can truly be happy in a timeless way—no camera needed, no special circumstances required. You can be in the joy that springs from your heart every single day.

Most people are trying to understand their mind. People have been trying to do
that for an extremely long time. And they never will. They write books and say
beautiful things, but it is like having a garden that looks spectacular though every
flower is made out of paper and every tree is plastic. The grass is fake, so you
don’t ever have to cut it.

The disadvantage is that flowers don’t bloom there and spring never comes. Bees
never fly, no flower has a beautiful aroma, and the trees do not sway in the wind.
Even though it all looks pretty, it is static—as in dead.

That is why it is so important to have a living experience. Living. Breathing.
Existing. Feeling. Thinking. Understanding. Knowing. That’s what is real.

What does your garden look like? Have you smelled the flowers? Have you ever seen a bee? Are there birds in the trees? Is there a season when it looks fine and you are content?

People get used to being frustrated. They get used to being mad, upset. They
say, “That’s life. Good times, bad times—it’s all okay.” What is okay? Me being
lost? Me ignoring my own nature? Me being away from myself? Me not
recognizing myself?

That’s why every one of us needs so desperately to understand that there can
be no compromises, that an effort needs to be made every single day to see,
to feel what we have been given—from the heart, from our very basic being.

Know that a time will come when all that you rely on will slowly fade away.
What will remain? You. You will still be able to experience, but erosion is afoot.
It happens so slowly you don’t notice it, but it’s afoot. Every day, every
second, it marches on, but above it floats a beautiful reality that is timeless.
You are alive. And till the day you are alive no more, you can go inside and
feel happiness; you can feel joy.

There is hope. Your heart is knocking on the door. Open up. Feel, see, understand, realize, know. Be in that joy, be in
that feeling every moment. Understand the beauty of the possibility to feel clarity, to feel gratitude, to be thankful to be
alive. I’m here to remind you: don’t wait. Wake up. See, feel, admire, be a part of your existence.

Peace is the perfume of God.

Maharaji Speaks.
Maharaji speaking at an event in Barcelona, Spain, on February 15, 2009. Duration: 43 minutes. (Highly Recommended)

[Post 900]


Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Monday, May 18, 2009

No Left Turn

One has to be a lowbrow, a bit of a murderer, to be a politician, ready and willing to see people sacrificed, slaughtered for the sake of an idea, whether a good one or a bad one.
From Writers at Work by Henry Miller.


Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

The Bike

I took to calling my bike my friend, I carried on silent conversations with it. And of course I paid it the best attention. Which meant that every time I returned home I stood the bike upside down, searched for a clean rag and polished the hubs and the spokes. Then I cleaned the chain and greased it afresh. That operation left ugly stains on the stone in the walkway. My mother would complain, beg me to put a newspaper under my wheel before starting to clean it. Sometimes she would get so incensed that she would say to me in full sarcasm, 'I'm surprised you don't take that thing to bed with you!' And I would retort -- 'I would if I had a decent room and a big enough bed.

After a time, habituated to spending so many hours a day on my bike, I became less and less interested in my friends. My wheel had now become my one and only friend. I could relay on it, which is more than I could say about my buddies. It's too bad no one ever photographed me with my friend. I would give anything now to know what we looked like.

I took care of my wheel as one would look after a Rolls Royce. If it needed repairs I always brought it to the same shop on Myrtle Avenue run by a named Ed Perry. He handled the bike with kid gloves, you might say. He would always see to it that neither front nor back wheel wobbled. Often he would do a job for me without pay, because, as he put it, he never saw a man so in love with his bike as I was.

Often I was in the saddle, so to speak, from morning till evening. I rode everywhere and usually at a good clip. Some days, I encountered some of the six-day riders at the fountain in Prospect Park. They would permit me to set the pace for them along the smooth path that led from the Park to Coney Island.

From The Quotable Cyclist. My Bike and other Friends by Henry Miller.


Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Saturday, May 16, 2009


Freedom includes everything. Freedom converts everything to its basic nature, which is perfection.
From Sexus by Henry Miller.


Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Friday, May 15, 2009

The Runner

Jump from another reality.

The world is not to be put in order, the world is order incarnate.
It is for us to put ourselves in unison with this order.
The Book of Positive Quotations. Henry Miller.


Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Fire from Within

Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.
Carl Sagan


Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Street Thoughts

The spirit listens only when the speaker speaks in gestures. And gestures do not mean signs or body movements, but acts of true abandon, acts of largesse, of humor. As a gesture for the spirit, warriors bring out the best of themselves and silently offer it to the abstract.
Carlos Castaneda.


Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Desire / Erised

Deepak Chopra Feat. Demi Moore.

A lover knows only humility, he has no choice.
He steals into your alley at night, he has no choice.
He longs to kiss every lock of your hair, don't fret,
he has no choice.
In his frenzied love for you, he longs to break the chains of his imprisonment,
he has no choice.

A lover asked his beloved:
- Do you love yourself more than you love me?
Beloved replied: I have died to myself and I live for you.
I've disappeared from myself and my attributes,
I am present only for you.
I've forgotten all my learnings,
but from knowing you I've become a scholar.
I've lost all my strength, but from your power I am able.

I love myself...I love you.
I love you...I love myself.

I am your lover, come to my side,
I will open the gate to your love.
Come settle with me, let us be neighbours to the stars.
You have been hiding so long, endlessly drifting in the sea of my love.
Even so, you have always been connected to me.
Concealed, revealed, in the unknown, in the un-manifest.
I am life itself.

You have been a prisoner of a little pond,
I am the ocean and its turbulent flood.
Come merge with me,
leave this world of ignorance.
Be with me, I will open the gate to your love.

I desire you more than food or drink
My body my senses my mind hunger for your taste
I can sense your presence in my heart
although you belong to all the world
I wait with silent passion for one gesture one glance
from you.


Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Empty streets and points of view.

To My Loved Ones in Mexico: This, Too, Shall Pass.

To the Editor:
Last Friday morning, my phone woke me up. “There is a flu epidemic. Schools are closed.”
My mother’s voice came in waves. I didn’t know what she was talking about. I hadn’t heard anything or read anything in the Mexican newspapers. Since I hung up with my mother, I’ve been experiencing whatever feelings an expatriate is supposed to feel: fear, anguish, sadness and, of course, a little dose of guilt. I fear for my family and friends, I worry for what is happening, I am sad for my city, and I feel guilty for being in New York and not with them.
“How could this happen?” I kept asking myself and Drew, who listened to me for hours rant about the absurdity of the situation, unable to provide answers.
This was not the way it was supposed to happen. The apocalypse had to come from outside.
This is what hundreds of films, books and songs have taught us. When the nuclear holocaust happens, we, the inhabitants of Mexico City, will defeat radiation and become, next to cockroaches, the only living beings on the planet. We survive constant waves of crime and have been hostages of violence, corruption and popular demonstrations that choke the city every day. We drink the water from our faucets (sometimes) and eat street food whose secret ingredient is salmonella without the smallest discomfort. How could this happen to us?

I spent the weekend staring at pictures of my empty city and couldn’t avoid crying. But the thing about epidemics is that they take time. And we are not used to things that take time. We want immediacy and certainty.
People have been working from home. Restaurants are closed. Bars closed before churches did.
Mel is heartbroken because the event that would consolidate her own public relations firm was canceled and months of work were wasted. “Canceled,” she said, when I asked if it hadn’t been postponed. I knew she had tears in her eyes.
Noni wakes up every morning hopeful. But when she peeks out of her Roma neighborhood apartment, the sun is shining but the streets are empty. It’s the collective nightmare that never ends.
Monica thought it was an overreaction from the government until a woman in her office fell ill. Now she wants to play Six Degrees of Separation. The target is not Kevin Bacon but a victim of flu. Yes, we are Mexicans and prone to laugh at our misfortunes. Cynicism is our best medicine.
And today, my fellow Mexicans, a week into the emergency, you can’t and shall not forget this. You are a survivor. It’s in your DNA. But we are not bulletproof. We are vulnerable and should take care of one another.

Next time you are stuck in traffic, swearing and hating the city, you might remember how good chaos is and how wonderful routine feels when you lose it. I know it’s easy for me to say. I am in Brooklyn being a passive observer of what is happening in my city.
And yes, Noni, one morning (very soon) you will wake up and the sun will be shining, the streets will be flooded with people and a demonstration will make you late for that appointment. The collective nightmare will be over.
Cristina Padrés
Brooklyn, April 30, 2009
The writer is a curriculum developer and editor from Mexico City living in New York.
New York Times

Marc Siegel
Profesor de Medicina, Universidad de Nueva York, especialista en gripe porcina: "Esta gripe durará lo que dure en los noticieros": "Tengo 52 años y he vivido y estudiado unas cuantas pandemias: ésta es de las suaves. La gripe porcina este año es benigna en todas partes menos en los medios, que sí contagian una epidemia de miedo más virulenta que nunca". Hay una "hipocondria causada por los medios de comunicación (...) y la están alimentando los estados. ¿Por qué tiene que salir un jefe de Estado a hablar por la tele de una vulgar gripe? Bastaría con un subsecretario; cualquier portavoz médico sería suficiente", recuerda: "Cada año la gripe causa miles de muertos sin que merezcan ni un segundo de televisión ni un titular ni siquiera en Internet. Les pido que utilicen su circuito humano neuronal de la razón y el sentido común y bloqueen el centro neuronal del miedo, que compartimos con los animales".
Fuente: La Vanguardia.

Por qué sólo mueren mexicanos.
La pregunta ha sido formulada en distintos países, entre los que se cuenta, por supuesto, el nuestro: ¿por qué el virus A/H1N1, que según datos de la Organización Mundial de la Salud (OMS) ha infectado a 898 personas en el mundo, ha resultado letal únicamente en poco más de una veintena de los 506 mexicanos contagiados? La primera respuesta podría ser –dando por cierto que las autoridades nacionales actuaron con la celeridad que se requería– el "factor sorpresa" en el surgimiento de la epidemia.

Sin embargo, en días posteriores a la declaración de emergencia sanitaria del pasado 23 de abril, el sistema de salud pública nacional exhibió un patrón de ineficiencia: falta de capacidad en casi todos los ámbitos (diagnóstico oportuno, material de protección para el personal, seguimiento de contagios y laboratorios adecuados). Además, han salido a la luz pública relatos indignantes de apatía y soberbia médico-burocrática hacia algunos de los enfermos, así como cobros que podrán ser reglamentarios, pero que resultan absolutamente fuera de lugar en el contexto de una crisis de salud pública como la actual. Por otra parte, el Ejecutivo federal ha actuado sin conocer la importancia de la información precisa, puntual y transparente en circunstancias críticas, en una patente descoordinación con los gobiernos estatales, con una grave tendencia a las colisiones declarativas, entre sus propios funcionarios, y con una desoladora insensibilidad ante los impactos económicos de la epidemia en una población ya afectada por la crisis global y por los saldos del desastre de más de dos décadas de políticas económicas neoliberales.

Por fortuna, el A/H1N1 parece ser menos contagioso y mortífero de lo que se temió en un principio, pero de cualquier forma su surgimiento ha dejado al descubierto un sistema de salud pública devastado por el pensamiento privatizador dominante, por la corrupción inveterada, por la arrogancia de los gobernantes y por su desprecio a la población de ingresos insuficientes, que en México es la gran mayoría.

Ante la demolición deliberada de la estructura de bienestar social y de una política de salud pública dirigida al conjunto de los habitantes –y la adopción de esquemas de atención individuales y demagógicos, como el Seguro Popular–, el Estado no puede reaccionar con la precisión, la puntualidad ni la coordinación que se requiere en circunstancias actuales, y se vuelven inevitables los retrasos fatales en el diagnóstico y en la administración de tratamientos adecuados. A ello debe sumarse la insatisfactoria condición física de muchísimas personas, en un país en el que no se cumple el precepto constitucional de la salud como un derecho inalienable.

Si la mitad o la cuarta parte de los fondos destinados al rescate bancario –en el contexto del Fobaproa-IPAB, legalizado por los partidos Revolucionario Institucional y Acción Nacional– se hubiesen dedicado a remozar y construir clínicas y hospitales, a financiar a las instituciones de salud pública, a restablecer centros de investigación suprimidos por el salinato y a crear sistemas de monitoreo epidemiológico, la actual emergencia habría encontrado a México mucho mejor preparado, y es posible que –como ocurre ahora en las naciones ricas y hasta en algunas con subdesarrollo similar o peor que el nuestro– los infectados por el A/H1N1 habrían podido ser atendidos en forma oportuna y eficaz.

Las lecciones de la epidemia son inocultables. No sólo es necesario restructurar –vista su inoperancia– el sector salud público, sino que se requiere también, y con urgencia, emprender un inequívoco cambio de rumbo en materia económica, aplicar el principio harto conocido de que la principal riqueza de un país reside en su población, y que es en ella y en la elevación general de su nivel de vida, por tanto, donde deben realizarse las principales y más significativas inversiones, y no en subsidiar al capital especulador ni a los poderes fácticos, ni en financiar gastos corrientes desproporcionados y ofensivos. De otro modo, la próxima epidemia –es un hecho que ocurrirá, aunque nadie sepa en qué momento– podría ser devastadora.
Editorial La Jornada. Mayo 04 2009.


Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

El Rodeo

A view of El Rodeo Lagoon from Xochicalco.

Xochicalco ("sho-chee-cal-co") is a pre-Columbian archaeological site in the western part of the Mexican state of Morelos. The name Xochicalco may be translated from Nahuatl as "in the (place of the) house of Flowers". The site is located 38 km southwest of Cuernavaca, about 76 miles by road from Mexico City. The site is open to visitors all week, from 10am to 5pm, although access to the observatory is only allowed after noon. The apogee of Xochicalco came after the fall of Teotihuacan and it has been speculated that Xochicalco may have played a part in the fall of the Teotihuacan empire. It has been speculated that Xochicalco may have had a community of artists from other parts of Mesoamerica.

The architecture and iconography of Xochicalco show affinities with Teotihuacan, the Maya area, and the Matlatzinca culture of the Toluca Valley. Today some residents of the nearby village of Cuentepec speak Nahuatl.

The main ceremonial center is atop an artificially leveled hill, with remains of residential structures, mostly unexcavated, on long terraces covering the slopes. The site was first occupied by 200 BC, but did not develop into an urban center until the Epiclassic period (A.D. 700 - 900). Nearly all the standing architecture at the site was built at this time. At its peak, the city may have had a population of up to 20,000 people. [Wiki]


Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.

Friday, May 1, 2009

Theme Day: ShadowsswodahS

Vangelis. The Little Fete.

"I take a bottle of wine and I go drink it among the flowers.
We are allways three ... counting my shadow and my friend the shimmering moon.
Happily the moon knows nothing of drinking, and my shadow is never thirsty.
When I sing, the moon listens to me in silence. When I dance, my shadow dances too.
After all festivities the guests must depart. This sadness I do not know.
When I go home, the moon goes with me and my shadow follows me"

Click here to view thumbnails for all participants.


Gracias por su visita / Thanks for visiting.