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My friend once told me to be la clau, la che. La che? This is short for a string of Spanish curse words that can be summarized to have courage no matter what. So when I saw this on Gunfighter’s blog, I thought it was a good opportunity to get to know me.

I am : Honest, strong, loyal, philosophical, writer, dancer and lover of life that’s traveling the world and enjoying life to the fullest. I would add opinionated, but it is not an English word.

I think: That the easiest thing is to hurt yourself and the hardest thing to do is hurt others. It’s a sign of maturity to understand that hurting yourself is the same as hurting others. I think humans are essentially good inside.

I know: That the present is a succession of moments from the past but if you continuously live in the present, no one will like you.

I have: Tell me the frigg’n truth or I’ll choke you attitude…sometimes a little high strung

I wish: I could enjoy my high school smoking body again and not have my desires limited by cash or time….hmmm, all those sexy shoes

I hate: When I get hit walking on the sidewalk because people don’t know how to drive…road rage.

I miss: Colombian food. Though I am figuring things out through alot of trial and error, I still can’t cook my grandmother’s beans!

I fear: a single future, the destruction of the Earth and a heart made of stone

I hear: the song of the mountains on fall rainy days and the rustle of the reeds from the rice crops.

I smell: everything. My nose works very well.

I crave: the security of a good partner.

I search: the truth and my fourth degree black belt in Seoul.

I wonder: how I would be if I had gone into the military when the chance was offered.

I regret: not marrying my second love, JD, one of the best relationships I’ve had. Too bad hindsight isn’t foresight.

I love: Tom Waits, dogs, my friends, my home, me…everything that has transparency, intent, honesty, love and purpose

I ache: from running a 5k on 35 min, but it’s not like the aching is gonna go away, I gotta hit at least 20 min.

I am not: dishonest.

I believe: In the saving grace of Christ and the code of a warrior

I dance: like people say praise be to Christ. I love dancing!

I sing: only when I really have to and working on learnign a couple of Korean songs. I love “el rey.”

I cry: when children are born to parents who obviously do not want them, have the ability to take care of them and/or give them unhealthy bodies to start out their lives. I’m not sure if I cry or want to slap someone here but it feels the same.

I fight: great when provoked, but why do you want to see me that mad? Make love not war.

I win: 50/50…I don’t feel massive enough to conquer ground technique

I lose: my temper and volume with apathy and injustice. Hey, I’m making up for at least 5 voices that don’t speak and should.

I never: want to be unloved, poor enough to starve, stop thinking, contribute to society, writing because that’s how I make sense of the world and talk to God, have scabies again or loose my self pride.

I always: try to get 8 hours of sleep, and love the days when it’s 9. My insomnia is going away but there are always about 2 nights from the month when my mind gets the best of me.

I confuse: I confuse my family lots.

I listen: to the silence of the mountains and love the fact that when people talk to me their words are measured. It feels like the language of God, the transition from a dream and the logic of men.

I can: teach simply because I can learn. If I tame my impatience, I am the best student in the class. This doesn’t mean I am the most intelligent; I do not catch on instantaneously, but I hang on like a crab to raw chicken.

I am scared: of doubt and loosing the spell check function

I need: LOVE

I am happy: when I am with friends, dancing and living life to the fullest

I imagine: circumnavigating the world for a year or two on a racing yacht team.

Your turn.

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I’ve often thought of lies as an act of getting dressed in the morning,
and truth as a milkshake full of sharp volcanic shards
to be drank like a cold glass of water on a hot summer day:
everyone lies.

Though lies are misinformation,
the color of lies are the most interesting part.
No lie is white but there are many with no repercussions,
the black cancerous make you question who is pained the most: the receiver or the giver?
but the flesh tone color lies are sins of ignorance,
why or how one does not know themselves is beyond me.

Flesh tone lies question things you know,
like never trust a man who lies for a living
turns to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I wonder if I am more ignorant for giving unearned space in my life
or for not leaving when I see discrepancy.

Cutting truth is a skill:
an imprecise cut leaves pain and no resolve
too deep of a cut
is a sure sign of immaturity, blinded by rage
for the code teaches loyalty, as much as compassion
and success is measured in the eyes of those affected
and not inside those doing the action.

So how do you strike that balance?
How do you become invested enough to search
but unaffected enough to get detracted by emotion?
How do you search motive
without being an executioner?
Do you pursue the color of the lie,
even when information is denied?

Like superman, we all want to see our perfect selves
unhurt, unscathed and shining bright in the eyes of others
It’s in the judging of ourselves
and wearing the skin of others
that we find wisdom and understanding
that the art of telling the truth, is not how right you are
but how successful you can educate.

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Traveling feels like this huge limpia to the soul. The Universe takes my soul over rocky river washboard and starts sifting all impurities without the thought of pain. The smell of sacred ruda in the background to get what’s not purified by water. My departure full of fear, My trip an uncertainty to plan. My return a peaceful graceful calm that says I want to do it again, admiring the world just like God asks everyone to.

My friend thinks that all these journeys are part of myself that are asking exploration and attention. Other friends tell me, “You’re running away. Come back to the people that love you and the community that you can contribute to.” I feel like a hydroponic plant suspended in the air. How can I argue from there that I do have roots, that though they don’t touch the ground they can hear from me within 24 hours? How can I say that from above I see the word community different than you? How can I let you know that rhythm of life will continue even when I get back from flying around the world and everyone will be the same and soon they will forget you stressed by financial and familial duties, but you will never forget the world? The world is huge and the opportunities to explore it and yourself are infinite.

My favorite memory of India, this woman I never met. It’s so easy to spot the beauty when you come from the outside and so many things people don’t tell you but they forget when words are so important. She is so dark and bright, peasant but rich, happy but self aware. When else would I get to see this moment? This mix of emotion and richness of color to match it? Sometimes I wonder if people see the same when the ask me, what part of their country I’m from.

I think about how I see India, the big city cauldron of steaming heat that mixes the smell of human drama into condense squares, to the quiet country prasing everything in their quiet being and home to Krishna. I see my hands in praise and beauty, with henna or like hers with different finger nail paints just to celebrate she can. That is India. This is me.

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