Tag Archives: life

To eat or not to eat…that is the question. 

I wrote this a couple years back. It still applies. 
To eat or not to eat? That is the question. Whether tis better to deny my tummy its late-night wants, or to take food against these hunger pangs and by opposing end them? To eat…to snack…for in that feast of soup or sandwich what hunger pains may come? Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished. To eat…to snack…to eat perchance to get fatter? Ay, there’s the rub. For in that late-night feast what things we eat must give us pause. There’s the respect that makes calamity of late-night snack! For who would bear the whips and scorns of cover models, the spouse’s mocking, the friend’s tummy-rubbing, the skinny bitch’s scorn, the fat person’s sympathy, Hollywood’s body-shaming when he himself might his own relief take with a bag of cookies? Who would hunger bear, to toss and turn with an empty stomach, but that the dread of snacking, of gaining weight, from whose bourn we fat people must then do exercise, including jogging, and makes us decide if it is then worth the trouble of those extra few calories? Thus self-image doth make cowards of us all, and thus the warm glow of the refrigerator light is sicklied o’er to the pale reflection of man-boobs in the mirror, and sandwiches of great layers and tastiness with this regard their making is undone and lose their wondrous flavour. 


On the Parable of the Sower

I went to a local park today with the wife and hatchling. One of the big thing about this park is that there’s a creek running through it that runs over a huge rock formation. So I went out on the rocks today for some contemplation and reflection and there are trees and grass growing up through the rock. They’re not only growing, they’re thriving.
We’ve all heard the Parable of the Sower, I’m sure, in which seed is scattered on the ground but only germinates in good soil. I’ve never been fond of that parable – even when I followed the Man Jesus. And this is why: on that huge slab of Georgia rock grass and trees have taken root and found a way. Life always finds a way. The moral of the story is clear to me: if the seed that is your life is cast upon rocky soil you can still thrive if you persevere. I’m reminded of a speech given by Winston Churchill: “Never, never, never give up!”
Life is what you make of it. Your perception determines your reality and your expectations will be fulfilled. If you expect negative things, they will occur. If you expect positive things, they will occur. Whether you think you can or think you can’t…you’re right. I know these are often considered cheap platitudes, but it’s true. Life is already difficult enough for those of us whose seeds were scattered amongst the rocks and thorns. But if we persevere and continue to do the right thing no matter what, we can still thrive. These shit lives of ours are what we make of them. I hope we can all make the best of them.


Life in the moment

The past is past; it cannot be changed since we can only float downstream in the river of time. The future is ahead and unknowable. We can plan for it and we would be wise to prepare, but ultimately we have no control over what tomorrow brings. Let the future see to itself. NOW is when we live. We exist in this, the ever-present moment. Now is when we should make the most of our lives. Seek the moment.

Stop worrying! Ask yourself, “Will this matter in five years? In ten?” If not, let the matter go and walk away from it. You will find that ultimately most things simply do not matter and that is when you will begin to learn mastery of anger and begin to learn discernment. Then you will also learn how to properly deal with the things that do matter.

Un Poema por Andrés – The Inspiration Project

My cousin Andy writes me about our late grandfather, Andres. Here is what he has to say:

“Our grandfather has always been a great inspiration for me, as a young boy I remember watching him work and being in awe of how tireless he always was. I remember him walking every where he went everyday!! I’m a dreamer and a lover, I wear my heart on my sleeve, I’ll be the best friend you’ll ever have but of you ever fuck with me or mine I’ll be your worst nightmare. I only wish I had a tenth of his will and drive, imagine what I could be……wouldn’t that be a beautiful sight to see?”


And now, Un Poema por Andrés

You came to this world with nothing
Everything you had you earned
You picked their crops and sang our songs
You cooked beans and tortillas for your children

You stood in line for milk and cheese
You gave the sweat of your brow but stood on your feet
You walked miles uncounted to stay fit and so strong
You always had time to let us sit on your knee

Hard work and music filled up all of your years
Your children love and miss you more every year
Now you walk in green fields, guitar in hand
Gracing all heaven with your musician’s soul

There right beside you your wife Sara stands
Our abuela, our madre, holding your hand
Viendo sus niños con puro amor
Alla en el cielo, juntos por siempre

– A very special thank you to my primo, Andy Santos for sharing his inspiration with me. I wept as I wrote this. I’d like to dedicate this poem to all of my tios, tias, primos and primas, as well as my mother and sister.

On 35

I recently turned 35, and I wasn’t happy about it. Part of that was it seemed after working most of my life, the only thing I could do to support my family is drive a truck despite being more than qualified to do many other jobs. Part of it is being away from family and friends. I didn’t celebrate my birthday this year – I was alone and just didn’t see the point.

Then I started writing a survival story. Those of you who know me well and who’ve been reading can see parallels between my protagonist and me, I’m sure. It didn’t occur to me until later that I was writing my story in allegorical form. The struggle to survive, the struggle to find what it is I’m looking for, the struggle to find peace and balance and live each day in harmony with the universe.

I’ve made some decisions lately that will prove to be rather disruptive to my fat and complacent life, and I’m proud of myself for doing so. I’m becoming a vegetarian. I’m a Buddhist, and seeing that the Buddha teaches living in peace with all creatures, eating meat goes against that principle. I’m doing this for myself – nobody else. Physically, ethically, spiritually, this is the right decision to make for myself.

I’ve decided to finish the story. I’m currently working on Part XII, and I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but I only work on it in my spare time on the road. I spent much of March at home, so there was no chance to work on it. After I complete this part I will no longer publish it for free on this site. I’m developing the story into a novel and I’m already 1/3 of the way there. I’ve given away the first two chapters, the rest you’ll have to pay for if I find someone willing to publish it.

I’ve made peace with my career path. Driving is what I do. I bring you your soap and cereal and peat moss and onions and potatoes – raw and chips – and so many other commodities you use in your daily lives, and I’m ok with that. I don’t have a boss lurking over my shoulder making sure I’m filling out a TPS report instead of playing Tetris; I don’t have to listen to passengers whine about being hungry or having to pee or asking when will we get there umpteen times; I wake when I wake, sleep when I sleep, and see majestic and magnificent things every day. The dark night sky is my roof at night, the sun and moon my traveling companions. I miss my friends and my family, but frankly this is who I am. I’m a rover, and I’m bound to drive away, but eventually I will return for a short time.

I’m not upset about getting older. I’m 35 years old. I’ve lived to see amazing things, and we truly do live in a fascinating modern age. Age is not something to dread, but to welcome. As a recap, here is what I’ve learned:

Peace can only come from within. Depending on outside circumstances for inner peace will only leave you tossed about like in a whirlwind.

True change will only come about when you truly want it. Only then will you have the strength of will to chase after it regardless of setbacks.

Do what you love. It doesn’t matter if you get paid for it or not.

Find a creative outlet for your emotions. Holding things in does you no good. Channel them into something positive and creative. Learn to paint, play a musical instrument, take up photography. Don’t do it for recognition, do it for yourself.

Be who you are. As the late great Mr. Rogers used to say,

“God loves you just the way you are.”

This is true. Whether you believe in one god or have need of many or even none, you are loved by someone just the way you are. I wish I could hug you all myself.

Money is not the root of all evil. The LOVE of money is. Money is a tool – wielded properly it brings prosperity to all. Wielded improperly – well, we know what happened in 2008. Greed will ultimately destroy everything if left unchecked.

Do not try to impose your morals on another person. We all come from different places, even living next door to someone. If you do not drink alcohol, do not judge others who do. If you do not eat meat, do not judge others who do. It is okay to reach out and tell others your beliefs, and explain why you live this certain lifestyle, but do not try to force your beliefs down someone else’s throat. It will only cause resentment. The best way to reach out to others is to show them love. Now if you see someone has a problem with addictions, it is important to try to help them. If they will not listen, though, there is nothing you can do to help them. They can only change when they are truly ready to change.

If someone asks for help, give it. In doing so you help yourself more than them.

Treat others with love, kindness and respect.

Perception determines your reality. If you choose to perceive nothing but evil intent and negativity in people, your reality will reflect that. You will draw negative people to yourself like moths to a flame and this will only strengthen your bad perception. Choose to see the good; choose to see the positive. It takes time, but you will eventually learn to change your perception of the world and you will see your world change. Then you will learn it is not the world which has changed, only you.

These are a few of the lessons I’ve learned, some more recently than others. Take heart, my friends! We are all on this journey together, for a time. Let’s make the most of it!

Let There Be Light

I live in Las Vegas, NV. If you’ve never been, you should definitely go. I wish you could see what I see, feel what I feel for my adopted town.

The other day I was driving northward into Vegas from Phoenix AZ. I had a load of plastic caps that was Canada-bound and I was passing through to spend one more night at home before heading out for a few weeks. It was a grey day. Now – normally I’m not terribly fond of grey days but this was an exception. Sometimes they’re not bad – it’s nice to be reminded of nature’s cyclical nature from time to time and to feel a cool breeze on your face loaded with the promise of rain. This was a beautiful day. The sun hid his face behind a grey sky, it was pleasantly cool for a change (for me anyway – I’d spent the last several weeks in the frozen northern wastes).

The reason I say you should visit Las Vegas is this – there’s no sight like it in the world. I’ve traveled the 48 contiguous states and into Canada and been to the far side of the world. I’ve seen natural wonders and sights so beautiful they can make a brave man weep. I’ve woken to a morning so ethereal I could literally feel magic in the air and wouldn’t have been surprised to see faery-folk and mystical creatures walking round. That was a wonderful day – I felt like I’d somehow slipped the boundary between our world and another and when our version of reality reasserted itself I carried some of that magic back with me in my heart. Yet in all this beauty there is no place like Las Vegas. I’m not talking about when you fly in – coming in from the air makes it lose something in translation unless you come in over the Grand Canyon. I’m talking about driving in from the south on US 93/95 from Hoover Dam. When you round the bend at Railroad Pass and see the valley nestled between its mountain ranges of red rock on both sides and this wonderful city of light sitting there so alive it’s just breathtaking.

So I drove in from the south on this pleasantly cool grey day and rounded the bend at Railroad Pass and there she was – my adopted town, just sitting there pulsing with life. I love this town. I love the light, the night, the sounds, the pulse, the attractions, and the friends I’ve made. I love the life in this town. I love that it’s alive even in the high desert. And that’s when it hit me – life always finds a way. No matter where – no matter how inhospitable the conditions – life will always find a way. And that’s very encouraging to me. Life is tenacious – it clings on because it is so precious a gift. Life, my friends, is the universe’s gift to itself.

I was a tenacious reader as a child. I especially loved reading science books because, hey, I fucking love science. I was reading about subatomic particles and quantum physics and astrophysics in elementary school. There was one book in particular I always went back to – this one was about high energy particle physics and don’t bother asking me what a book like that was doing in an elementary school library because I just don’t know – anyway I went back to this book a number of times over my years at that particular school because it made a statement that captivated my young mind. It simply stated that

“We are made of starstuff.”

That blew my mind! I was captivated, but I’ve only recently begun to actually grasp what that meant. Don’t get me wrong – I got the science behind it and filed the data away in its relevant location – but the philosophical implications of that statement didn’t begin to percolate until many years later. I’ve begun to wonder if the universe didn’t deliberately place that book in my path for a reason. Here’s the thing: the most abundant elements in the early universe were hydrogen and helium. They still are – that’s why their atomic numbers are 1 and 2, respectively (disclaimer: I know that’s not why they’re numbered 1 and 2, but this is a philosophical discussion, not a chemistry lesson). They’re light elements, and simply ridiculously abundant in nature. The very first stars were therefore necessarily light – all they had to go on were hydrogen and helium. All of the heavier elements were created in the stars. ALL of them. These elements were dispersed by way of supernovae as those very first lights in the darkness ended their lives in blazes of glory, just to be reintegrated over and over and over and over again over – as Carl Sagan would say – billions and billions of years. Eventually the universe came to be what we see now, life evolved on our little blue ball of hope and we came to be. Our component atoms, though, were forged in fiery nuclear furnaces unfathomable distances away that managed to come together in self-replicating patterns of organic chain molecules that eventually learned how to think.

I saw a meme on Facebook the other day that hit me the way the starstuff comment in my elementary school library book did when I was a kid. It said,

“We are the universe’s attempt to understand the nature of its own existence.”

Is that not amazing? I don’t know how that makes you feel but I find it a beautifully optimistic statement. What this says to me is that – regardless of your pain, your scars, your fears, your nightmares – the universe WANTS you here. Life isn’t easy – trust me, I know – but you were meant to be here. Whether you believe in fate or chance – each and every one of us are the universe attempting to understand itself. Every atom in your body at one point was scattered across infinity, clamoring to unite with every other atom in your body – screaming “LET THERE BE LIGHT!” and pushing back against the darkness until they were flung across space and time to finally come together as the person you are with your talents, your loves, your laughs, your scars.

The lesson here is that life, and therefore hope, endures. No matter how dark the night, no matter how grey the sky, no matter how bleak the horizon, you are made of starstuff. You have in every atom of your body the ability to push back against the darkness and say “Let there be light” and the power to be the light to your world.

As I write this I’m sitting at a – well, I guess you’d call it a truck stop in Legal, Alberta. The ground is blanketed in ice and snow. I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of my truck, leaning forward resting my arms against the steering wheel listening to a bootleg copy of a concert The Beatles performed in Atlanta, Georgia back in 1965. Help! is playing right now. John, Paul, Ringo and George were in excellent form that night. I’ve driven 1500 miles since Saturday and haven’t had much sleep. It occurs to me that – as hard as this concept is to grab, thanks to tactile sensory input – l’m not actually touching anything in here. The seat, the touchpad on my iPhone – I’m not actually making direct physical contact with any of it thanks to the quirks of particles at the quantum level. I feel it though. I feel the firmness of the steering wheel, the floor of the cab, the padding in the seat. I feel a bit of a chill creeping in, even though – thanks to the wonders of thermodynamics – I know it’s actually thermal radiation seeping out, moving from a high energy state to a low energy one. I miss my wife, my sons, my daughter, my mom, my sister, nieces, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends. I don’t see any of my loved ones nearly as much as I’d like to. I see my coffee mug and thanks to memory association I think of my 12-volt coffee pot and the three boxes of Twinings tea I’m carrying with me and ponder making a cup of Earl Grey, which reminds me of a fascinating audiobook I just finished called

    A History of the World in Six Glasses,

which is a sordid tale of how beverages advanced and evolved with human civilization over the past 6,000 years. I feel stiffness, swelling and pain to varying degrees in my joints thanks to encroaching arthritis and the cold. I think of hope – that nebulous word that encompasses so much yet is so hard to define – that drives me to wake up every morning and not drive off a cliff but rather face each day as a brand new chance to get it right. I think of the cyclical nature of existence. I think of the universe evolving new and more complex lifeforms, advancing from amino acids to single-celled organisms to various plant and animal life over billions of generations to finally produce self-aware creatures capable of asking questions and pondering the nature of consciousness and the existence of the very tapestry of space-time we’re woven into.

I’ve said before that I’ve struggled with depression and suicidal tendencies all my life. I’ve come out and said it not for sympathy or pity or to make anyone feel bad but as a means of letting others out there know they’re not alone. A good friend of mine actually attempted suicide a few years back and I found him – dehydrated, feverish, and unconscious – in his truck. I saved his life, and in the process had to come to confront my own sadness and depression. At the time he attempted it I was going through a very nasty divorce; I’d lost everything that mattered to me; I’d been betrayed in the worst possible way; I was seriously considering opting out Hemingway style. As I contacted my friend’s family and experienced their reactions I got a taste of what my family would feel if I succeeded in my own attempt and decided I couldn’t bear to have their anguish on my conscience. So I found reasons to keep going. I’m glad I did – I’d have never known the joys I’ve come to know since. The point of all this is that it’s ok to hurt – it’s ok to struggle. As you struggle though, remember – the universe began creating you billions of years ago in nuclear fire. You’ve been tested for billions of years by heat, pressure, cold, vacuum and radiation and still managed to come to be. The particles, atoms, elements, and molecules that make up who you are are basically the same as every other person but there is no other you on the planet.

Hope endures, my friends. Remember – you overcame unbelievable odds to just be here. Life is a gift, a privilege. You may be cold, you may be hungry, you may be broken and scarred, but you are still beautiful. We fought our way across infinite reaches of space and time to be right here, right now. I’ve been betrayed by the closest people to me; I’ve fought off a brain tumor and am still fighting emotional and psychological darkness every day; I’ve lost friends; I’ve been cold and hungry and alone. But I am still here and I am beautiful. I still fight every day because I finally see my life for what it really is – I am the universe expressing itself as me for a little while.


A side-note about my friends: I got lucky – I’ve met some absolutely beautiful souls in this town of tourists and plastic people. Some of the most wonderful, beautiful, loving, caring, giving people reside here and that’s amazing to me. They have their troubles, their hurts, their cares, their scars, and they are just beautiful people. I belong to a group here in Vegas who’ve come together due to a mutual love of karaoke, as cheesy as that sounds. If you’re ever in Vegas, look up Karate Karaoke, go to the calendar page and unleash your inner rock star. Tell them Don Loco sent you.

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