As a sometimes casual observer of ex-pat life here in San Miguel. I am often reminded of one of my fave films from the 70's….there is something in the air…a foodie nightmare of sorts played out in sun hats and four wheel off road vehicles…something has run amok amidst the botox and the surprised surgically rendered faces of the reverse migrant culture undulating on yoga mats…Discreet Charm of the Bourgeosie….where do these observations lead?…will there be an outcome?…how much more can be consumed?  who are these new "Trustafarians"?….is there a god of consumption?  Who am I to judge?  Who am I?  Who am I?

 

 

 

We returned from Italy early on Sunday morning of this week.  It had been quite an adventure that I will always cherish with Beloved Richard. We basically have hit the road running on our return with different projects and tours during this Dia de Los Muertos period.  It was so good to see all of our Beloved Critters and to love them.  Our Divine Matriarch Wheels was happy to see us and did her little dance…not letting me get too close at first.  She has always been her own girl…She has been getting weaker as she approached fifteen.  I remarked to myself how she was the only one left from the original group of critters that gathered with us when we first came to Mexico.  The others had passed and she was "The Queen"….I have been having to help her get in her chair lately…she occasionally would stumble when running up some steps.  I remarked to myself again yesterday that she was able to run out through the bars of the gate having never put on a bunch of weight.  Yesterday we had a large tour of 30 women who came out to see the place.  The tours that we give always culminate in my studio.  Thirty American women in my studio…chaotic…I noticed that Wheels wanted out and I opened the door for her… the women started to trickle out of the studio to get in their vans to return to San Miguel…We don't like our little girl Perla out in the street but we allow the others.  Wheels skirted out down the cobblestone road to avoid all the Gringa chaos and their vans.  In the meantime Richard made us a beautiful soup and we were enjoying it in my studio while Carlos was working at the table where we were eating…His youngest son, Jaime Salvador came into the studio and was talking to his Dad…Something was wrong…So I ran out of the studio and on to the road and there lay the body of our Beloved Wheels…our Dear Beloved Friend's heart gave out on the road…The road that she ran down so many times to greet us when we came home from town…Her little body was still warm….I was sobbing…I am crying now as I write…these tears are my prayers…my prayers of gratitude for having Beloved Wheels in our lives for fifteen years…She has passed on…it is all Impermanence…these tears are impermanence…she will always reside in my heart…Beloved Wheels has moved on…she died with dignity and she graced our lives….

I find myself wanting to lash out.  As a part of this human race, I feel violated by the likes of "not my president frump" and his cronies….I feel like just dumping a load of excrement on those who aided in getting him elected.  I start an angry post on Facebook and inevitably I erase it before I open the galleys of a "shit storm"…I feel a bit helpless…as if all this turmoil that I witness is "out there" somewhere…this morning…here in the dark…as a kitty crawls across my lap as I type…..I remind myself:  To Bring it All Back Home…have a good look at my anger…how is this anger serving me?…is this anger an honest gesture?…is this anger just the result of helplessness?  It is important for me as a man to sit with this and watch this internal event in my consciousness.  I feel compelled to express this…I find myself confused…lashing out only drags me down to un-needed strife…I shall stay tuned….and listen…and wait…two inches below my navel…the emptiness…the Buddha Nature….neither this nor that….just this…..nothing….no…thing….

Some folks believe that I am this druggie hippie artist….I was a stoned hippie 50 years ago…Times have progressed and moved on…I feel that sometimes I have been unfairly culturally profiled…as Richard once exclaimed to a guy trying to sell us "blow" in Oaxaca…"who do you think we are? Cheech and Chong?"…….As I sail through these years…I find comfort in this Mystery of Persona wrapped around my soul-ness…my Such-ness…Because of the way that I have allowed the cards to fall…I have left myself open to speculation…There is an odd art form in being the object of speculation…The trick is to turn it into the Subject of Mystery and Lore…"To Live Mythically and in Depth" as a friend once said years ago in New York…So, Dear Readers, the same question will continue to stir my heart beat…will tug at my sense of wonder….Who am I?  Who am I?…The beat celebrates and continues…..the beat…the beat…

It is official…at 7:04 am in La Cieneguita, Mexico…I know nothing…I am an occasional finger pointer…sometimes my aim is true…other times I should exit the back door taking my delusion with me…it is who I am…flawed and polished…the Fool

https://www.madebyanado.com/it-is-officialat-704-am-in-la-cieneguita-mexicoi-know-nothingi-am-an-occasional-finger-pointersometimes-my-aim/