There is a free spirit in my room

Liberación by Tania Franco

There is a painting in my house you can’t help but to smile at its sight.

The painting alone could light up any room, and it is not because of its vivid colors, it is certainly on the bright side of the spectrum. It was painted a few years ago by a very talented young woman.

It features a girl. She is wearing a white dress and her arms are lifted. It is as if she was hugging the world and because of this the world is happier. She has that kind of power.

I think she is hugging herself too.

The way I see it, and let us remember that art is always subject to interpretation, it’s the painting of a warm fall. The sun is setting in the background and a soft breeze cuddles the girl in the painting.

The girl has no defining facial features, and why would she? A feeling this liberated cannot be limited to an exact expression. That kind of sensation is a lot more than that, it’s more than a face, more than an unblemished smile.

The floor underneath the girl, as well as the tree next to her, have to know of her joy, otherwise they wouldn’t be as festive, colorful and full of life.

They all make a whole (or at the very least a feeling of wholeness).

There certainly is an air of intrigue in these characters. When admiring the beauty of their feelings one cannot help but to feel joy a hint, jealousy, and wonder: what does it take to be that way?

Realizing that there is such a sensation could be the first step.

I have seen this painting everyday for the last few years of my life. It makes me smile inside and out. She is a spirit that has realized that she can be happy, and I want to share that with her.

She is the love of my life, and she is free.

In the Shape of a Heart

Photo by: Edgar A. Morales

I consider myself a very fortunate individual. Even though I am not swimming in money I have, in one way or another, obtained everything I really wanted. Sometimes I worked for those things, and others they were just given to me. 

 

I am grateful for all.

But there is one present in particular that meant a lot to me, actually there are two, and they were given to me by the same person at two different times in our relationship. To be able to know what those presents meant you would have to know the context in which they were given, but this time around I’ll only tell you about the first one.

You would have to know that I fell in love with her long before I got those presents, and that I was certain that she loved me back. I am not going to go into too many details, but I’ll tell you that our relationship has been one of steady growth.

We went out on a picnic once. It was but a couple of months into our courtship, and we were getting along famously. I had actually been looking forward to this day because she said we were going to a place she enjoys very much.

She made a prosciutto, mozzarella, sun-dried tomato and garlic sandwich that was absolutely delicious (even accounting for the excessive garlic) and come to think of it, I hope she makes me another one those soon (hint). We accompanied that with a merlot and headed for the beach.

She loves the beach. She can spend hours upon hours contemplating the sea, thinking and admiring its beauty. There is a spot somewhere in Baja, five miles away from Rosarito, behind an old beach house that has a bench facing the ocean. It’s like a balcony with some loose stones underneath and the beach right after. When the tide is high enough it reaches the rocks beneath the balcony.

We sat there and had our picnic. We spoke. We laughed. We contemplated the sky and tried to make sense of the different shapes in the clouds. We saw the ocean and some lights out in the sea, I thought they were boats, but she said they were tiny bonfires in the middle of the nothingness, and I believed her. We saw the sunset too.

We went back home and when I was dropping her off she went inside her house and asked me to wait for her in the driveway. When she came back, she asked me to close my eyes and extend my hands. She placed something in them and when I opened them I saw a rock in the shape of a heart.

She loves to walk on the beach and collect rocks that look like hearts. They are not easy to find, believe me I have tried. She said she found that one just a few days earlier walking in the beach. She said that when she found it she was thinking about me. And now I was holding it in my hands.

I don’t know if that was her heart that she was giving me to care for, or if it was my own heart that she had found after all these years. Nowadays, I like to think that it is a combination of the two.

The Sudden Departure of Dagoberto During an Unfinished Soccer Match

The following is a true account. Although the event itself did take place, some modifications have been made to make some sense out of the whole thing, but I am not sure this was accomplished.

Dagoberto dropped dead during the second half of a soccer match before the amazed eyes of his friends, his son, and a few viewers. It was a copper colored evening of a dusty Fall Tuesday during the 1998-1999 season of the Over 40 Downtown League.

During half-time, Dagoberto, or “Dago” as his friends used to call him, had been passing bottles of water to his teammates and making jokes about the speed (or lack of if) of their soccer match. His son sat in the sidelines and held brief conversations with other spectators of the game. The teenager made it a point to go to most of his father’s soccer games.

Before going back to the field for the second period of the game, Dagoberto, who was not a tall man at all, hair somewhat messy and his skin as dark as the dirt they were playing on, found his way to where his son was sitting and patted him in the back.

“Thanks for coming,” he said to his son.

The game started again, and the middle-aged men ran after the ball with the same joy from their youth, but the rhythm was a different one altogether. After some intense 12 minutes of the second period, the ball went out of bounds.

Dago ran to the sideline to cover the guy who was going to “throw in” the ball to continue the game. He was alert, all pumped-up with his eyes fixed on the ball when he felt a sharp, incisive and prolonged puncture on the middle of his chest. He cringed, and then his expression changed to one that looked like he had seen something that shocked him. His knees slowly gave up underneath without him taking notice of it while his eyes were still set on the ball and the opposing player.

“Why is he not playing the ball?” Dago was thinking as his body became loose and his arms and legs numb. He fell on his knees first, not fully knowing what was happening to him, and waited -still- for the ball to come into play.

He paid little attention to the chest pain, thinking that it was only a direct consequence of the efforts made during the soccer match. After all he wasn’t 24 anymore. Aches and body grievances had become part of his life beginning a couple of years ago, when his cholesterol shot through the roof and he developed a slight case of the diabetes. Even then, he led an active life and played soccer twice a week.

Several hours of beer drinking followed each game.

As it was, the ball never made it into the field. The player from the opposite team, who just minutes before had said something nasty to Dago -all in the heat of the game- witnessed how Dago’s body collapsed and how his once dark skin became very pale in a matter of seconds. The player dropped the soccer ball and waved for help.

But all of this was in slow motion.

The ball appeared to be floating and turning on its own axis in front of Dago’s face. The player that was waiving for help with both of his hands looked like a clumsy seagull trying to leap the ground.

“What the hell is he doing?” Dago was thinking. “Play the damn ball already!”

Players from both teams ran towards the falling man faster than they did when they were playing the game and formed a circle around him. The sun was setting and their shadows resembled a stretched crown across the soccer field.

“Somebody get water!” One of the players yelled towards the benches. See, in soccer matches water is supposed to cure just about anything.

Dago fell softly on his left side with the help of his teammate, the one wearing the number 10 jersey.

“Why is everyone around me?” Dago thought, and felt very drowsy. His teenage son, already by his side, cried.

Dago heard the voice of his child, but didn’t know where it was coming from. Maybe it was just a memory, maybe an ill effect from playing under the sun, or maybe it was just the need to hear him.

For Dago the story continues in a big misty hall with a large gate, or maybe in a long tunnel with a bright light at the end of it. Perhaps the story continues as Dago floats above all soccer players, teammates and adversaries who standing still in a circle, his son by his side.

Maybe he looks down on them and realizes that nothing is really happening, he is just going somewhere perhaps better, or maybe just different. The story could also continue with Dago being born again, but with a different shape, or as a completely different being. Or maybe everything goes dark and that’s the end of it.

Only he knows.

For the rest of the players the story will continue attending a funeral in two days where they will drink a couple of beers and remember how much of a good person Dago was.

Next Tuesday they will play again. And hope they win.

♠ ♠ ♠

We live here, there and beyond.

An anthropologist friend of mine who I respect a great deal said that "The problem with trying to understand my nature [my consciousness, self, or personal identity] by going all the way down to the molecular level, is that I don't live on that level. I live on the level of medium-sized bodies. That's the world I inhabit." Always the pragmatic (and he brings up a valid point too), but this is my reasoning: If anything, this is but a matter of perception and of course awareness.


I don't think we can categorically state that we don't live in the molecular level anymore than we can assert that we don't live in our hearts, or bodies or even brains. It is clear that we "live" in all those levels as well, but it is also evident that limiting our core "essence" to them is somewhat of a quandary because these components are in a state of constant change, regeneration, impermanence, and yet our very core, our identity remains.

This, to me, is remarkable evidence that whatever it is that constitutes our innermost essence exists beyond what we can be readily aware of. We are not aware of all those things because it would be too much to handle. It is a way to keep us sane. Can you imagine the information that we would have to process if we were aware of the cells that constitute every single hair we have? Or our skin? Yet, these too are all part of what we presently "are," but again, they do not constitute our very essence.

I am not suggesting that what goes on in the molecular level and beyond is more or less important than what we are conscious of, but I do think that as an elemental part of our "self" it is important that we become "aware" of it. Maybe, and just maybe, this is some form of Enlightenment. Who knows? One with the universe? Why not? It all comes from the same point somewhere back in time and all that is really happening is that everything is transforming and manifesting in different forms.

What would happen, for instance, if you lost all your memories? Imagine every single thought, experience, idea and memory you ever had was completely wiped away from your brain. Everything. Would you still be you? – And just to be annoying- would your essence still be the same?

I think an important part of our identity comes from our experiences, but how can we deny a "self" that is by all means real, independently of what we see, hear and even live? This "Self" may be different than the one we are aware of in our everyday as we go about life, but does that makes it any less real just because we are not fully conscious of it at all times?

I think it is a mistake to disregard this part of our identity. I think this "self" is essential (pun intended) in understanding our presence and place in this universe. This is, if you ask me, a very natural approach. I see this as a method that integrates all the different elements of the being, material and non-material, because after all we are also energy… but this is a whole other subject in it of itself.

♠ ♠ ♠ 

Vegas 2011

So I made it to Vegas. I had been looking forward to this trip for a long time, the World Series of Poker going at full speed at the Rio and plenty of tournaments for just about any bankroll everywhere else. A few of my friends played WSOP events, some others were aiming for the deepstacks while a few more were focusing on cash playing. It was amazing to see them all.

The Drive

Last year I took a bus for this same trip. Big mistake. My reasoning was that it’s just a few hours away and I could just sit back and relax on the way over, get some reading done and sleep part of the way. It ended up being an uncomfortable ride that included many hours of waiting in the San Diego AND in the L.A. stations. This year I decided to drive.

There is something about the open road. The notion of going somewhere, the uncertainty of the next curve and what will the landscape look like and the focus on nothing else but driving certainly make for quite a Zen experience, albeit a hot one since the A/C unit in my truck is not working. It was a lot of fun nonetheless. A very enjoyable and unintentionally exciting drive as I almost run out of gas past Barstow as there is a huge climb that stretches on for miles and miles without a gas station. I am not joking: the way down was on neutral and praying. The next gas station was about 20 miles after the end of the hill and I barely made it.

WSOP 2011

Summer in Vegas marks the time for poker players to flock from all over the world to compete for a coveted WSOP bracelet or to take advantage of the wide array of different tournaments with decent structures and weak players (both of which can be found at all levels). This is the trip I most look forward to since I started playing poker almost two years ago.

As it turned out, a few of my friends had remarkable runs in WSOP Events. Michelle finished 53rd in the Ladies Event. Then, out of a massive field of about 4500 runners in WSOP Event #54, Nelson ended in the 299th spot while Mony finished 119th. A couple of days later, her boyfriend Fishykis finished 123rd in WSOP Event #56. They played an amazing poker and it was such a delight to be there with them.

Other friends also played these events, but fell short of the money spots, a big shout-out to PokerLawyer, Morris, Brenda, and Camachin, all of them great players and amazing people. For those who work as hard as you do, I know it’s only a matter of time before the big win. I know I’ll be seeing you again next year.

I only played TWO tournaments. That’s all I would allow myself to play. I did well and felt happy with my performance. I finished 5th in one and middle of the pack on the other in a spot where I was ahead but didn’t hold. You know, Poker. I feel good AND motivated, this is going to be an important year for me and I am looking forward to it.   

Pokers

I was a great treat to spend time with fellow poker players in Vegas and talk about hands, spots, lines and ideal decision making. I feel like I’m in a good spot to continue growing as a player and make this upcoming year a big one. The thing is I am practically starting my bankroll from ZERO since I only had a few hundred in Stars when Black Friday happened and there is no telling when we will get our money from Full Tilt. It sucks because I had worked on a few key elements of my game in the last few months and the deep runs in mtts were becoming the norm, also, I was turning a nice ROI in 27-player SnG’s. But this is no longer an option, so now I have to focus primarily on live playing.

I don’t mind playing live. I actually like it better than online. It’s just that it is so convenient to be able to fire-up a few tables at the click of a mouse whenever I want, as opposed to make a drive to the local card-room or casino a couple of times a week. Then again, I do have the option of playing at a local card-room AND casino, which is more than what a lot of people can say, so no complaining here. In the meantime, they are down to 12 on the Main Event as I write this, so let’s see who makes it to the November 9 and continue working on one day being there.

♠ ♠ ♠

Zen in the Baja Wine Valley

The last time I visited was years ago when I was commissioned to write an article for the vacation special of the publication I was working for. I have always loved the place. It is unlike anything the rest of the country has to offer. And don’t get me wrong, I love Mexico and all of its different landscapes, but there is something about vineyards that I find truly peaceful, romantic and bohemian.

Back then Tania and I had been dating for a while and our relationship was pretty much going in the right direction. I can say that from the get go we knew we were serious about each other, but still dealing with some personal issues from the past. Normally, I would take my own pictures, but she went with me on that trip and I had her take on that task. She used to be a professional photographer before going into psychology, so I knew she would get me a few cool shots.

One of the pictures she took was of the ground, or rather of something she had written on the dirt of the valley. She wrote “I Love You” inside of a heart and took a picture of it. I didn’t find out about it until later when I was reviewing the roll for shots to use with the article. Fast forward a few years and here we are again, this time with our 2 year old boy.

Dear Friends

We primarily went to visit two of Tania’s best friends, one of whom we had not seen in over a year. She now has a 7 mo old baby we had not met. They went to college together and stuck with one another through thick and thin. They were radiant when they saw each other, both of them moms now and in a completely new place in life. She married a chef and we had dinner at their restaurant which has an amazing set up right on a cliff overlooking the ocean.

We first arrived to their house around noon and took a break from the long drive, which is really only about an hour and a half from San Diego. There were lots of hugs, laughs and baby introductions right away and then off to the restaurant to check it out. It is called Gazuza and it is located about a mile after the Ensenada toll booth. The highway runs along the ocean and the restaurant is off a gravel entryway going into the beach. It is easy to miss as the signs out there are not particularly imposing, so you have to be on the lookout.

Once in the parking lot, the entrance to the compound is a long wooden corridor that ends on a stairway to the beach. The restaurants rest atop of a sea cliff; they share a terrace and the Pacific. While we were taking pictures and walking on the beach, our friend made quick arrangements to meet the winemaker of one of the local wineries.

Wine Country

The countryside is literally ten minutes away from Ensenada, and it stretches on for miles and miles of olive trees, foliage, wine and friendly folks. As soon as one enters the valley, the landscape changes from a heavily busy highway into a serene two-way road that runs between two mountain ranges that cross the peninsula eastward. You might as well travel back in time, park on the side of the road and just walk the rest of the way amid the vineyards.

The entrance of the winery is oddly decorated with two twenty-five or so footer vessels, one of which never made it to the sea while the other spent more time wrecked than in the ocean. The ranch also has the peculiarity that some of the vineyards are arranged in a circular pattern instead of a straight line. This makes it a little bit more arduous to work on, but helps the vines “hug themselves” in hopes that the affection they give each other will result in a better quality wine.

We had a great conversation with the winemaker. We spent the afternoon talking about wine, growing techniques, soil quality and the individual and collective efforts of the local wineries to make a quality product. These people love what they are doing and thrive in sharing their work with the rest of the world. It is no wonder that wines from this region have been awarded international recognition.

We took a stroll on the grounds then diligently proceeded to the wine vault, a wood, rock and concrete building that stands twenty feet high and drops about forty into the ground. It is heavily insulated as to preserve a cool temperature which is necessary for the wine to rest. We walked downstairs to where the wine sat silently in the heart of the hills. Some of it in barrels, some of it in tanks, depending on the stage of development, regardless each wine had a story to tell.

The grapes for each wine came from different parts of the hills and grew under different conditions, despite being in the same property. The ones that grew over the hill facing the ocean had the cool fall sea breeze caressing them at night. This of course influenced their texture. Other bulk of grapes had been ravaged by wild coyotes, affecting the size of the crop and making it necessary to combine them with others to make a blend. A few did not reach full maturity in time but were still good enough to use while some others grew under ideal conditions and were pampered up until they were pressed to get their nectar.

Still, as we were sampling each varietal the notion of the craft, effort and the art used to create the final product was palpable on each sip: The citric tones and floral bouquets of the Sauvignon Blanc, the blackberry mixed with oak and leather from the Cabernet, the blueberries and orange zest of the Grenache, all of which a testament of nature’s complexity and generosity even when treated unfairly.

Who would have thought that tasting wine would be a humbling experience?


♠

The I Ching, Theo and Me

There is no denying that there are people who completely bright up your life from the moment you first meet them. Theo Cade is one such one person, so much so that he is dearly nicknamed “Sunny” and if you ever have the chance to talk to him, you will know why this is so.

He just published “I Ching, Version for Optimism” a work of love, inspiration, selflessness and life experience, a book I know will be a legacy for humanity to use in the betterment of everyday life. This may sound like an audacious claim, but such is the passion and noble ambition with which it was created.

I had conversations about this book with Theo, and it was such an honor for me to hear about his vision of a better world. I will say that I didn’t have many conversations about this subject back then, and it was so refreshing to hear someone talk about the real possibility of a healthier tomorrow in such rough times.

Back then Theo gave me as a present the I Ching Essence cards of his creation (which can be downloaded for free HERE). To this day, after so many years, I have them on my desk at work. Every day I randomly pick one and rejoice in the wisdom, love and insight they posses. I will treasure them forever.

So here is a courageous man who will pour his whole being into the openness and become utterly vulnerable and completely dedicated to his mission: “To stimulate and participate with others in the transformation of the world to a state of Total Permanent World Peace & Prosperity.”

It is such a mouthful.

I don’t know that we can collectively get there just yet, I really don’t know. But I do know that we as individuals can walk in that direction and invite others to join us. Theo is doing it. And I also know that with love and wisdom such as the one encapsulated in his book we can also move in the same path.

I truly look forward to the time when we finally get there.


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