Pico de Orizaba

Pico de Orizaba
Taken from Huatusco, Veracruz, the closest town to Margarita's family's ranch.

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

The Garden of Eden, Fall From Grace and Original Sin Revisited...

Today's piece was inspired by what a friend of mine posted on Facebook:


Without Communication, there is no Relationship. Without Respect, there is no Love. Without Trust, there is no reason for continuing...


And I responded:


without trust you have all the reason to exert your violent needs towards others... which for many (it seems) is reason to live... without the boost of adrenaline caused by hate the person feels dead... Lack of trust gives them the illusion of feeling alive... The "other" is a tool for explaining to "us" who we are and who we aren't... It's an illusion for creating socio-political parameters... Like in my in-laws ranch you will occasionally hear "¡No seas indio!" (Don't be like an indian!), although the only thing that separates their community from that of a true indigenous community is having adopted "european/Mexican" cultural traits such as Catholicism, Spanish, European/American dress, Mexican-European eating habits... while the genetic heritage/blood lines remain almost exclusively intact... Margarita's genes can be traced back to the Bering Strait/North America... the region from the North American Arctic to Mexico... no signs of European heritage... But, you will hear family members say, "Don't be an indian!" And if there were an anti-indigenous movement in the mountains of Veracruz, their children would know exactly what side of the line they stood... And if there were anti-campesino (classist) movement, those from the upper-middle classes would ALWAYS know what line Margarita's community fell in...(the side of the indigenous)... Illusions... Communication can be very dangerous in the perpetual era of anti-intellectualism, anti-health-healthfulness... Those who need for people to maintain their positions are concerned about the communication of ideas... progressive ideas... progressive humanitarian ideas... Without communication... we still relate... but we create very dysfunctional relationships... Without respect... you can't love someone (not even yourself)... People believe they are loving while they are disrespecting the other person... Illusions... Without the above, you can't have trust... But for some strange reason we've lived this way for thousands of years and we continue and we keep continuing... and you may wonder how that is possible... I guess we are incredibly resilient... or maybe we have constructed very potent delusions that enable us to deny the truth... so that we can continue within a very harmful and destructive situation...

And he responded:


Yes, unfortunately we have been indoctrinated to be european and conform to the culture of the colonialist. Which perpetuates internalized racisim when saying such as "don't be so indian" is stated. Respect for self is lost when such words are spoken and even acted upon, at a conscious and subconscious level. Open communication allows us to break down those barriers. It starts with words then actions, vice versa. When the channels are open, higher levels of trust is created. But this stretches beyond culture and race, too; gender, identities, classes, etc. are also examples. At every segment/division, there is a history of violence where these divisions were created and oppression persists. To communciate about these systems bestowed upon us is a step towards decolonizing our world and making it a place for all of us to live harmoniously.

And I responded:

What I've found, especially here in Mexico, open communication is frowned upon... As Margarita and many others say, "we were told: 've, escucha y caya'"... "Watch, Listen and Keep Your Mouth Shut"... the equivalent of "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil"... I agree with you; interpersonal/social health begins with open communication... The problem is that most people aren't supportive of open communication if that communication conflicts with the accepted ideas of their "community"... I just saw a publishing that in the Mexican State of Hidalgo a Jehova's Witness group destroyed 6 or 8 alters around a pyramid in an Otomi indigenous archeological site... Their reasoning behind their destructive behavior is that the religion was practing devil worship... The history of human civilization is divide and subdivide... "Divide and conquer"? Back in 1992, when I was about to transfer from my community college to Hampshire College where I got my BA degree, I believed that the story of the "Garden of Eden" and the "fall from grace" of Adam and Eve was the history of the development of modern written language... when you could make one person's negative experience the experience of thousands or millions... That summer I had stumbled across 3 rattlers on the Appalachian Trail in North Jersey... I don't know who was more frightened... You don't see them first... You hear them first... and when the noise stops creating white blindness in the center of your head, and you can locate the rattlesnake, you realize that he or she is moving away from your path as quickly as possible... That summer I also saw a group of people stoning a snake they had stumbled across... What you've gotta understand is that I must have almost stepped on the 3 rattlers that were probably sunning themselves or crossing the trail I was passing through at a very rapid pace... Not once did they try and bite me... But, the third time when I was with a friend of mine, we tried following the rattler... I don't know if someone had a camera... The rattler was slinking away the best they could. But when it noticed that we were becoming dangerously close, he/she stopped and coiled, with their head protected in the center of the coil, but prepared to lunge IF WE ATTACKED...

The fall from Eden is the history of being able to circulate exagerations and lies at extremely rapid rates... It is the history of causing people to lose their ability of distinguishing the difference between what is artificial/synthetic/false with what is real...

Exactly 24 years have passed since I stumbled across those 3 rattlesnakes... My understanding of human civilization, human history, human nature has evolved immensely... so much studying, reading and living within various societies... And I see the "garden of Eden" and the "Fall from Grace" as a history of human overpopulation... after the Ice Age... when communities were forced to inhabit the lands of others... in order for survival... And in order for surviving, the communities "invaded" had to protect their families, their children... from starvation... And the communities forced to move and find new sources of sustanence in order to protect their families and their children from starvation probably began with peaceful communication and then found that they must fight to feed their children or fight to defend themselves from being destroyed by the healthier/stronger communities entrenched in the more fertile land... Since all imposters, interlopers are considered risks, enemies... And it doesn't matter what is the truth behind their migration and asking for assistance... No one wants to give what they may need tomorrow... No one wants to be in the shoes of the other... So, they first ignore the other... And then they exaggerate and maybe lie to their children about the other's "ways"... "Don't be an Indian!"...

In the end, the "Garden of Eden" is a horrendous tool for turning religion on its head and removing all inherent powers that women have... It was the master move in removing the Earth Goddess from religion... You've gotta understand the evolution from hunting-gathering society to agricultural society... They could have existed together, if the human population didn't increase so rapidly... So, there isn't an "if/then"... The reason for the Earth Goddess was because humans appeared from the body of women... The process is long enough and the changes sufficiently apparent that no one would deny the special "powers" of the woman... that the men don't have... And then the women invented farming or agriculture... The last step for a man who so greatly desired to be as important and powerful as his hunting/waring/killing body and could never find himself more important than the woman who gave birth to ALL men and mankind... and now creates food from the Earth...

So, you have the history of Adam and Eve; Eve being created from the rib of Adam... meaning that Eve was actually born from Adam... And you have the snake with the forbidden fruit... the original sin... of Eve eating what she was told not to eat... In reality the Snake is Adam's Penis and the forbidden fruit is sexual desire... But, how can you procreate without sexual desire? Incredibly obsurd... You would think that humans being such intelligent beings, many people would have realized that the story and "original sin" is incredibly anti-natural, obsurd... 

But, back to the "fall from Grace": All blame is upon the weaker/lesser Eve (Woman)... Ever since Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, woman are perpetually blamed for all of Man's problems... they must be controlled, since they tend towards whims and uncontrolled cravings and uncontrolled desires... Witchhunts were predominantly hunting women... Men aren't witches... They are warlocks... They are alchemists... So, Eve's lack of control and her cravings, her sexual desires must be controlled until the end of time... And God created his son by placing his semen in Mary, when she was unconscious (unconscious of what was occuring)... And now you have the womanless trinity of The Father, The Son and the Holy Ghost... And they rule the modern spiritual world... And Mary? Later on they elevate her to a slightly higher level, but still confuse her with the other Mary, who is a prostitute... Why did the Mother and the Lover have the same name? In fact, supposedly there is a third Mary... But, Mary never becomes part of the Trinity, removing the Holy Ghost... In Latin America the Relics of Mary, like the Virgin of Guadalupe have gained saint-like status... But, Mary is never the Wife of God, although she is the mother of Jesus... However, she is just a vessel for God's needs... She was just used as an incubator... The creation of Jesus was not based upon love... And here we can jump back to the original posting of yours... But, maybe we shouldn't...

The problem is that of "the fall of mankind" and such negativity and destructivity... "Without respect, there isn't love... Without trust there is no reason to continue"... Without love and respect there isn't trust.... hence there isn't reason for continuing... Imagine: around 1,700 years of a religious movement that is built upon a lack of respect for women and the mother and wife... That removes respect and trust from 50% of the community... meaning that the community and the 1,700 years of Christian Religious hegemony is 1,700 years of removing true love from the equation of procreation... Imagine that... But, the problem began well before even Judaism and cercainly before the developement of Hinduism and Bhuddism...

Did you know that some indigenous tribes in either South America or the South Pacific created a puberty ritual where the male elders or the fathers and uncles of pubescent boys cut their penises in order for bleeding them... Why? To show that not only vaginas bleed... And that during the menstruation week, just as is found in with Orthodox Jews and Orthodox Protestants such as the Amish/Mennonites, the women are considered dirty and must be kept at a great distance from the men... So, why bleed the boys... if menstruation is considered dirty or contaminating? Because at first the men are in awe of what occurs with and within the woman's body... But then, when it becomes convenient for the man, he turns that same power and amazing process and difference of the woman against her...

In Margarita's ranch I've frequently heard men call their wives "breeders", "cows", "hens"... And what does that make the men? The comments are for learning... for everyone to learn their positions...

The puberty rites penis bleeding is performed by Muslims when the men become 21-years-old if I'm correct... It's called circumcision... Supposedly 90% of Africa performs Female Circumcision to remove the woman's clitoris, so that she will not desire sex... with others... Absolutely NOT related to the Judeo/Christian "Garden of Eden" and the "Fall from Grace"... Not related to Muslim male circumcisions (the Jews circumcize their sons a few days or weeks after birth: not a puberty ritual)... The case is that the "Garden of Eden" predates Judeo/Christianity and the bibles... But the Old Testament was one of the first written and "published" documents... Oral Histories passed down within the tribes finally placed together as a "Testament"... It seems to me that the Fall from Grace is a socio-political watershed in human history of civilization.... An anti-female movement to give men the first and last word in EVERYTHING... Turning human society on its head and beginning EVERYTHING with a negative, The Original Sin... And "they" believe that a symbolic ritual (Baptism) that predates Christianity can cleanse the society of its "impurities" and sins... You can't right a society that blatantly disrespects women at the deepest levels and maintains them in "subjectivity" and "silence"... In order for the human communities to be healthy, they must stop blatantly lying about women... and stop teaching all of the children that males are more important than females... This is about communication, respect and love... The original sin is that all humans are born through the birth canal of a person profoundly and historically disrespected and disparaged... The babies grow up to learn to no longer love their mothers... And the babies grow up to become women who learn to not truly love or respect themselves... meaning that they will not truly know how to respect or love others... Which leaves us constantly battling against someone who shouldn't be our enemy... And that battles are based upon misunderstandings caused by poor communication "skills" and lack of respect or the lack of the desire for respecting the other... The Fall from Grace of the fall from The Garden of Eden or the original sin...

But, with all of this we still continue continuing...

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Call and Response poems James and Ross revisited

September 7th, 1999

To Ross
No sadness in this one, no wont, no confusion, no wierdness, 
no sexual battery of the self,
no frustration to clog our sinks, 
no anticlimactic fuzzthinkers......
I just wanted to know how your holiday was......

oh, and to say I am well and 
in no way close to the place I was in the last few confusing middle of the night shots in the dark..
I fed myself up with that whole amberthing 
and one of the shots hit a piñata that bled all over me 
the rediculous rain that rains and rains all over us and we can't stop it, 
it is there, for us or against us....
always for us and against us, 
it hits and we can laugh, smile or get angry and upset...
let it rain...
let it rain out my cigarette..., thankfully so. 
There is much much power in the littlest things... 
like turning the ringer off on the phone. 
I decided that no call could make me feel any better and 
she wouldn't call anyway and 
if she was to I wouldn't care or need that. No good could come of that anyway...
no call could give me what I was looking for so
I switched it off for a night, then two. 
There is power in that, 
a great tantamount starshaking power that does wonders 
that St. John's Wort and funny movies can only imagine reaching....
Maybe you remember it. It is a definate bachelor type of power, 
maybe an illegal intoxicant..
It was and it worked. It made me free, 
like throwing away a half smoked smoke, 
like turning off a song that you love halfway through..
It was necessary and made a step, 
a step out of the darkness......the night they drove old dixie down...
.na na na na nana na an na na ............... .Love James

To James

To reply...
To reply with a laugh and a smile and a sigh. 
No tears in the eye? 
No Joe 
we must flow with things not so salty and wet yet sweet sweat. 
To reply with a gleam in the eyes 
when Joe NOLA boy tells stories of morning glorious dreams come true 
like that time he decided it was time to stop stewing in love-sick soup telephone ringer roues.
Yes! 
And bravo para mi hombre if only I could speak Spanish. 
And yes. 
I found a chord and accord a connection and reflection.
Some circumspection... manipulated...
and that blood stained rust caked word we worship or adore adulterate then abhore
when SHE forgets that mi penga AINT no sign of the times and a nursery rhyme spewing lemon flavored lyme. 
An exclamation point 
or an untouched joint 
choking on token moments of affection mistaken for truth 
and a blood stained rust caked gold plated peuter word at times used as a sword that some love-wishers hord.
Yes it was a good weekend and a holiday. 
No piñatas spitting upon my mind multicultural candy coins. 
Just sweet sweat minus chocha amarga. 
A vacation from spirit stimied by New New Yawkers and unhospitality hawkers. 
From conformity sharks and matty matty matty materialist paddies clothed in the latest garments of ever so perpetuated styles and when that ever-so-rare a New York notion appears I mean ya see Wall Street to Mid-town even East to West Village silicon smiles. 
I walk miles 
to meet the real and true 
HE and SHE
that understands 
GOD is WE 
as long as we are honest and considerate, compassionate, thoughtful and free to be as we are 
when we are truly true.
Who? 
Oh I REALLY DON'T KNOW 
as the story goes about the tale of Joe or Jack with the weight of too many loves on his back. 
She was gorgeous. 
Gorgeous I tell ya. 
Yet she melted in my mind the way cotton candy disolves on one's tongue. 
True Freedom. 
Like that time I walked out the door without taking my art supplies and six books three journals a walkman two weeks worth of discs and seventeen scratchy scratch pens in a satchel, duffel bag and backpack for an evening of coffee house haunting waiting just waiting pre-senile osteo perosis. 
Yes... 
She was gone with the last change in barometric pressure or direction of wind. 
Did I swim?
 It could be that I was that sugar molecule melting in saliva on MY tongue. 
Absorbed and reabsorbed into my very own stream of consciousness.
SO...
gotta run, gotta skip, gotta jump. 
Gotta pretend earning a living for the sum sense of paying my rent is equivalent to worshiping the sun.
Love,
Ross in the city that hasn't yet awakened to the fact that style worn too tightly wears like old shoelaces and freyes and snaps. 
Style worn in place of soul is equivalent to the aftermath of sex being various forms of venereal disease, the clap. 
Attitude worn like clothes as style is like the assumption that buildings made of thick cement walls along the San Andres Fault will not crack and crumble.

Big Bad Leroy Brown and Don Juan's Reckless Daughter revisited from July 1st 2011

How long have we struggled to write my friend? 17 short years growing shorter with age... Is it possible that in my prolonged silences you think that I forget your hipswing poems of NOLA? I don't forget myself although I forget details. Every day another detail lost to the wind and I wonder how it ever was that I thought I would write more with experience. But with experience the experiences fade in memory. I remember your jeep and your crazy driving on the side walk passing traffic in Manhattan and maybe you thought you were Dean Moriarty and your babe from the cape Mary Lou. But maybe you were just yourself better expressed in a book, yet only if you're looking for that illusion. How things change over time. I don't struggle to write anymore. I am the pen and the paper. My feet scratch out the words in the sand or pavement, concrete as I pass and that's my story damn it! FUCK THIS FANTASY! screams out as I crumple up another manuscript of mind and toss it in the waste-paper basket of life. Why must we be heros? 

As I'm inspired to write as I write you now, I feel sad. Because there is truth in the short and subtle rage of releasing boys from our souls and turning off the big screen tv of our minds. Open the door and step out into the light of the street and there you are, YOU. And I wonder about you who taught me about stream of consciousness which became my best writing... What a flow Jack! For the moment no more monkey on my back. Stanley took off with the plan and left me thinking about Leroy Brown somewhere in middle America and that's who we are when we're not flying. Just big dark and heavy figures beating down the fears we harbour and hopefully we don't terminate as he terminated... Rise above the rooftops of our limits and find more free space not so thick aired suffocation... 

And where did I go? I'm still here. 17 years later. Walking my story, loving my story, anticipating my story. And when I die the book will close and how many pages had I written? I ran early in the day. In the sun, you don't float. You cut. For me, it's the duty to complete the run and hope that somewhere during the process I start floating or loafing like a gazelle... But, I accept the difference between almost 38 and that of being 31 and that maybe it's sufficient to reach the end heavy and panting. 3.5 years of apple cake, chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese toppings and fillings, giant cookies and all the pickings and tastings weighing me down. How wonderful it will be that day when I don't live with pastries... I never wanted to bake, but I wanted to make a life here with Margarita and that was the message that entered my mind and I still can't explain how it happened. We were sitting on a park bench in the middle of an enchanted couple of days where I was receiving information about what we were about to do... And suddenly it was time to bake and how we baked! From June 2003 to almost May 2007 we baked. You may ask why that's important when bakers bake or they're not bakers. But that's just it. I'm not a baker and never will be. Just as I'm not a historian nor am I a Jew or a Gringo... Why not? Society places labels but the person has the right to define themselves. And maybe it's not a right so much as a will... I have a will to be clear about myself. I'm not a baker. Maybe I am a Gringo because that's a name placed on an object outsider and can't be chosen... Robert says that they fear him. But maybe it's not so much fear but awe... Do they fear me? No, because I'm short. But maybe it's not fear. Maybe it's down right awe. Robert hops on his steed and he's off, a cowboy riding high and they hop on his back with their eyes and they go for the ride of their mind... I think we're crazy and I fear crazy. But maybe it's not fear but apprehension and you and I never became close friends due to that apprehension. But now who is the more conformed with the baby on the way? But one day you will visit me and I'll still be apprehensive, worried about the pressures towards samba and hipswings and dancing in the streets... But all that lives within me plastered below thousands of pounds of concern about control and security... Is it my mother that rides on my back? 

I remember when I left in that Grehound Bus for the south of the south, knowing that I was jumping off a diving board into an abyss. My mother wasn't sitting with me, nor did I think about her. And I don't remember the best memories of the transformation from American boy to... The passing through Virginia at night and Tennessee during daylight then crossing through Oklahoma at night and Texas in the daylight... Seeing pewter green 57 chevy colored rivers crossing below the highway hundreds of miles before Laredo... Listening to Joni Mitchel's Don Juan's Reckless Daughter for miles and then switching to Plant and Page and back to Joni, Plant never could hold Joni's hand as he wished... I knew I was leaving and there was no way back... Why wait for physical death to experience rebirth? And I'm a ghost reaching into your dream causing more memory returns... I can still hear the songs playing over the radio while calling for subscriptions at the Democrat. It's as live as that as mundane an experience as could have been. But we were together, weren't we? I remember that parking lot at night and saying good-bye until tomorrow. But I don't remember getting you the job. Just that you were there and I imagine it was through me... At the same time I had a friend who fashioned himself after Charles Bukowsky and taught me how to love a cup of black coffee with nothing, no sugar, but a cigarette butt as an accompaniment in the mouth, beautiful smoke crossing my vision, pouring from my nostrils, one cup at a time in refill diners and I was too young to have appreciated him and his experience or to have known him and I regret never making him more important. But I remember him talking about writing in the first person and how I tried to pawn Sue off on him... It was time for me to move on and she was very clingy. Did I pawn her off on you? Or did I know better? How can I be a writer if I can't remember those things? You went down to Vineland no? You went off into that dream and I let you go... I couldn't enter your risk. It was time for me to stop cliff hanging. I am afraid of heights although I've never truly admitted it. I've done some crazy cliff and top of the ladder rung, third story house eave hanging stunts and I don't remember being afraid. But I couldn't go with you and what a shame, because after all was said and done, it's who I was all along... And now we're married. And what does that mean? I'm your older brother. Maybe you knew that and maybe that's what maintains the distance also... And here I am and I haven't written anything... How about that. We're always traveling but doesn't it seem that we're walking on a treadmill? When will the journey truly begin? And what must we do to be able to fully set off on that one? Do you ask yourself that question? Robert, Michael, Jonathan, James... One real man will always be journeying and his wife may not always understand. The Alchemist was written by a man so it was easy for the bedouin woman to tell her lover that it was his nature to journey and, understanding that, she would always be waiting for his return. So romantic. But I don't believe that women are so accepting and understanding of mens journey needs, since that's not their story... And you marry and blame the limitations on your wife when they were the limitations you sought because it's nice to have someone intimate to come home to, a reason not to be so alone and on the road, because on the road you are a bunch of un-tied ends seeking a knot... I knew that I was meeting Margarita somewhere below the South. I knew the journey wasn't to be had so alone. But as you don't know, I've learned the truth of our separateness and the silence I experience journeying so close to another... Here in Mexico I speak two languages and with so many people and we joke around a lot and plan and talk... But the silence is profound and there is no one to confide in as maybe I had confided in before. Sometimes we don't truly know the levels. That maybe you reach an age and you start becoming more silent regardless of the language and regardless of how much you may talk and laugh... It's a profound silence where I expect decreasingly that another person can understand. And I accept it as my journey alone... It's a meditative journey. And the glory isn't so much in the sharing as it had been in the past... And I am happy for my friends and what they experience and accomplish. But I don't enter their lives or their paths even if we're sitting in the same bus looking at the same mountains...

Saturday, May 28, 2016

Vuele del Alma y Linchamientos Literales y Figuratives

En Isabel Allende's novela "El Cuaderno de Maya" escribe Allende... 

"Mis tripas empezaron a sufrir el ataque frontal de las bacterias chilenas. Al segundo día en esta isla caí en cama doblada de dolor de estómago y todavía ando a tiritones, paso horas frente a la ventana con una bolsa de agua caliente en la barriga. Mi abuela diría que le estoy dando tiempo a mi alma de llegar a Chiloé. Cree que los viajes en jet no son convenientes porque el alma viaja más despacio que el cuerpo, se queda rezagada y a veces se pierde por el camino; ésa sería la causa por la cual los pilotos, como mí papá, nunca están totalmente presentes: están esperando el alma, que anda en las nubes."

Estaba yo escribiendo lo del racismo abajo (en Facebook) cuando Margarita me leyó lo de arriba...

Cuando decidí cambiarla vida de Nueva York a Mexico, dije que para NADA brincaré en avión de Nueva York a la Ciudad de Mexico... Demasiado rapido... Necesitaba tiempo para contemplarla salida de una vida hacía otra...

No está contigua la tierra... aunque las fronteras son ilusiones políticas y sociales, la cosa más real y peligrosa que puedes encontrar en la vida y el mundo es la cultura... Los grupos no linchan la gente por verdades... Las linchan por ideas, fantasías, delusiones, necesidades psicologicas, aburrimiento, odio a si mismo proyectado hacía el objeto del linchamiento... La mayor parte de los linchamientos son figurativos... No pasa nada física ala persona... Pero, se encuentra castigada... por ser diferente, tener diferentes perspectivos, por decir cosas tabú, por decirla verdad que estaba aferrando mantener enterrado mil metros abajo la tierra de la familia... Quiere vivir en ilusiones, fantasías la gente... Y no quiere que nadie sepa que cosas tan malas ha hecho...

¿que hubiera pasado si hubiera yo volado en jet desde Nueva York a la Ciudad de Mexico?

Dice Margarita que la razón porque me leyó la pieza es porque siempre estoy hablando del alma que viaje, que se encuentra separado de nosotros... y que tenemos la responsabilidad de encontrarnos con nuestros almas para saber hacía adonde estamos viajando... para saber del trabajo nos tiene metido... porque no es tú mente que decide que tienes que hacer. Tú mente puede ser rependeja... Puede engañarte, como se hace engañarla gente linchadora... Tú mente dice, "tengo que correr hacía la derecha, sin saber que ibas ser atropellada por un autobús de la ciudad. Pero, tú alma te jala hacía la izquierda para mirar una garza blanca al lado del lago en el parque de la ciudad... Tú decides; ponerte en contacto con tú alma, que requiere mucho trabajo y algo de tiempo para concentrar y encontrarte contigo mismo. O abajo las ruedas de la maquina inventada por "hombres" para escapar de su miedo por la naturaleza?

Thursday, May 26, 2016

Pon Atención Por Favor; carta al hemotologo...

Vamos buscar otro Hemotologo. Necesito un hemotologo quien sabe un poco de la deficiencia de IgM y que la mayor parte de hierro se absorbe en el DUODENO...  Estamos cansados encontrar doctores quien no han aprendido como funciona el cuerpo humano y tampoco entiende como funcione el medicamento en el cuerpo...  Tomar aspirina diariamente causa lesiones/hemorragias en los intestinos.  Muchas veces no se ven sin meter una capsula con camara... pero que cause la deficiencia de hierro... En Lunes sangré después de la corrida... Pasa a vez en cuando... A veces puede ser llamado "Ischemia del colon" que ocurre en 20% de casos de maratonistas durante el maratón...  

Que no va decirte Dr. Guaraña de mi arritmia es que, en contra de sus "ordenes" cambie la dosis y horario de Lobivon y aspirina y se quito la arritmia, no gracias al doctor... El me dijo que estaba yo haciendome daño con tanto leer... Pero, tal vez salve mi vida... 

Desde Junio, mantengo un historial de todo que pasa durante el día y mi presión sanguinea...  Y encontré algo muy interesante:  después de comer cerdo, pollo y res, subía bastante mi presión, en mínimo 2 horas; no tiene nada que ver con grasa saturada, ni colesterol... No sube la presión después de comer queso...  Jorge mi cardiologo #6 (recomendado por Dr. Jaime Lopez Taylor) después de dar la patada a los otros, un pneumologo y una endocrinologa y 2 nutriologos...  Y nos hace la pregunta, "¿puede ser tan pendeja gente supuestamente tan instruida?"

Un cardiologo me dijo, "tienes que bajar el sodio!"  Y le conteste, "mira a los estudios enfrente tus ojos!"  Y exclamó a su colega, "está casi deficiente!"  36...  

Necesito ser tratado por la causa del infarto para prevenir otro y les doy bastante información que no quieren considerar:  

1)  Pierdo vitamina D muy rápido (Mutación del gene VDR).

2) Deficiencia de Inmunoglobina M (IgM es responsable limpiarla sangre de cellulas muertas (apoptized cells) y LDL colesterol oxidado;  sin placas grandes, puede causar una obstrucción.

3) Testosterona baja.  Testosterona es que previene la formación de TMAO que cause inflamación de las arterias...

4) Mutación genetica que causa perdida rápida de glutathione.  Glutathione previene la formación de placas arteriales...  Dificiencia de glutathione está relacionada con cholesistitis (diagnosticado en 2006).  Cholecystitis está relacionada con hernia hiatal (tambíen diagnosticado en 2006) y diverticulitis (no puedo saber por no tener colon desde 1983).  Y, los tres están relacionados con la deficiencia de Vitamina D...  

Se que vas decir de escribir una carta ofensiva y que falta respeto a los doctores... Pero, ¿nunca han pensado los doctores como ofenden por su orgullo, su falta de método cientifico y su disrespeto a la promesa Hipocratica?  Soy de familia de doctores...  Todos han muerto...  Mi tio (hermano menor de mi madre y quien fue inspirado por mi padre) y quien tenia su consultorio atrás del Torre Trump, y entre Parque Central y la escuela de Jiuliard, y fue maestro de estudiantes de medicina... y jefe de departmento de un hospital me había dicho que su responsibilidad como doctor es ayudar mejorar la salud de sus pacientes y considerar su situación economica...  Murio atropellado por una grua de la policia de Nueva York regresando a su casa con su esposa arriba de sus bicis en la via de bicicletas, afuera de la avenida... Estaba borracho el chofer... Tenía 56 años de edad... Aparecio su muerte en todos los periodicos de Nueva York y 800 personas a su funeral... Un doctor importante quien creia más importantes sus pacientes...  

Y que encuentro aquí en Guadalajara es que la unica cosa que importa a los doctores es el Status Quo... y defender sus colegas... 

Yo necesito trabajar con doctores quien toma en serio la información que está enfrente de sus ojos... No con personas orgullosas protegidas por la ilusión de su posición y prestigio...

En Enero, visite con Jorge y estuvo muy sorprendido que no hubo nada de arritmia... Y le dije que fui muy encontra sus ordenes y quite el problema...  Y le dije del problema de haber comido pollo por la primera vez en semanas y la subida de presión... Me preguntó como la baje... Y no le dije ni cerca todo.  ¿Porque no?  Porque es una persona quien cree que por ser doctor, el es la única persona quien puede responder (controlar) a una situación medica...   Más, afuera de lo alopatico, no va entender...  Entonces, ¿para que encontrarme en una lucha libre con alguien extremadamente orgulloso sin la capacidad de entender?  Solo seria un desperdicio de energía y salud.

Imagino que vas compartirlo esto con Jorge...  y lo de más del mundo medico...

Friday, March 18, 2016

Rape of the world; War of the sexes... Original sin; original disrespect...

On facebook a video was shared about "anti-rape" underwear... and a question was asked:  

" it is pretty sad that this type of garment even has to be considered. It begs the question: Why is this needed? What happened to society? Where are morals? Where is punishment?" 

The first thing that entered my mind watching the video was 

"I agree with Ella (woman in Spanish); it was the first thing that entered my mind that it's a shame that she must live with all of this and not be able to just walk out into the street or into a social situation relaxed...

And I continue:

And the question of what happened to society is a question that must go back thousands of years...

Another question is what happened to society in that much of the information about sexual assault and rape and self-defense and concerns about public space (lighting etc...) has come to our attention... I'm certain that it has nothing to do with the case that sexual assault and rape has increased so much as people are talking about and acting against it... 

Remember, the European Union refused the entrance of Turkey because of the rampant "assisted suicide" by parents and siblings of rape victims... Assisted Suicide? No, and nor was that what the family members and the Turkish government was claiming; someone learns that their sister or daughter was raped and they throw her off the roof, later claiming that she jumped... We can lump this into the same realm of the U.S. courts claiming that the victim of gang rape brought the violence upon herself because she entered the bar wearing a mini-skirt... 

500 years ago +/- European nobels or other large land-owners had the right to "sample" the woman who was about to marry a man who rented land from them... How many cultures required that the fathers of the bride and groom sit in upon the act of consecration of the marriage to prove that the newly wed wife allowed her husband to have sex with her... and to prove that she was "intact"...? And, if I'm correct, that ritual existed into the 20th century... How about the right to kill the wife if she doesn't give birth to a child after a certain amount of time... Before fertility tests existed, the wife was always accused of being infertile if the couple didn't have a child... And how about the right to kill the wife for infidelity... and if the husband was unfaithful? Was the wife allowed to kill the husband? 

But, back to the question of rape... 

If there actually was a rise in sexual assault and rape during the past century, how much is related to the emergence of mass media? How women are portrayed on the billboards, the covers of magazines, in commercials, movies... etc... what sells?  The woman's body is what sells...

Granted, the idea of rape is about a psychological issue of rage against women and personal insecurity of the man... reason why rapes decrease greatly when the women are more aggressive, more energetic, more confident... The rapists tend towards being insecure, which is why they must resort to "robbing" sex and not participating within the interpersonal process that may lead to consent... 

Truthfully, if I were asked what happened to the society, I would say that we must go back thousands of years, look at how the bibles were written and the modern religions were structured and why... 

How is it that God became a man who was able to mysteriously/magically inseminate Mary (without her knowledge; is this the true "original sin", since Mary was raped by god?) and now God has a son, but God doesn't have a wife and Jesus really only has a father... So, we must ask how and why did this happen to our society and what were the repercussions? Actually, what happened before that part of the story was written in which the repercussions were the writing of the story in which God gives birth to a son through his omnipotent penis? Actually, the penis isn't omnipotent, but magical. It's a magical wand... 

The question is that of respect or lack there of... The man is taught to disrespect his mother, allowing all forms of atrocities be performed against his sisters and daughters... 

Respect... 

Like the "original sin" we have the "original disrespect"... and in the end, it turns into a disrespect of ourselves as human beings... 

What is the original disrespect? 

It's the moment when the society decides that men are more important than women, justifying all forms of harm and negligence against women from the moment they are born... 

How many societies exist on this planet where the son inherits and the daughter is "sold" to another family? The son carries the family name and the daughter is just a disgrace (especially if the woman only gave her husband daughters)... Remember "Like Water for Chocolate"? How Tita was born to care after her mother? 

In how many societies are women born into servitude for their family? 

I can tell you about my wife's family... And we learn that the mothers are just as responsible as the fathers for teaching their children to disrespect women and teach sexism... My mother-in-law is horribly resentful towards my father-in-law. However, she taught her 8 sons and 4 daughters that the men are princes and the daughters are there to serve their brothers... 

Where do you begin? How does this end? 

And you may have been a bit offended that I responded to what many believe the realm of women with room only for womens' voices... 23 years ago I began attending a college that was 60% female and highly feminist; some really great womens studies classes with really awesome professors... And everywhere we walked we found ourselves being looked at with suspicion and even disdain... How many times were "doors dropped upon me" by feminist militants entering the buildings infront of me... I complained about this to one of the female house moderators who explained that intentionally not holding the door open for the following person, especially if the door will slam in his nose, is called "dropping doors"... But, this same person and others had the tendency towards calling the men who weren't stereotypically macho, SNAGs (Sensitive New Aged Guys)... What I found is that not only did my perspectives and my tendency to speak out against sexism, male-chauvanism, double standards, pop-culture tendencies, subliminal messaging... you name it... alienated me from my male peers, they also alienated me from my female peers... And I'm not talking about my college days when I wasn't so outspoken... 

The truth is that rape can be defined very broadly and that we should start considering the broad sense of the concept of rape... kind of like Tracy Chapman's "Rape of the World", although sticking towards the question of what happens to our society when we intentionally ignore or attempt towards erasing the most important truth: that ALL of us began our human developement within our mother's womb and that when we were born it was generally our mother who calmed us and fed us and made us feel safe and nutured us in so many ways and protected us and taught us who and how we are regardless of gender... That supreme court judge just like that military or police official and that dictator and that plantation owner all were newborn babies dependent upon their mother... When did we learn that that wasn't the truth? 

When was it decided that the mother or the woman didn't have so much importance; that the reason for truly respecting them was invalid? What were the repercussions? What are the consequences? 

And that's the true rape... the original rape... the constant rape... and all other rapes, although more acute and seemingly more violent, are just products of the greater rape of the world... Until we understand and "accept" what happened and until we as a human society made up of both the male and the female genders/sexes decide that we truly want to change the situation, you'll be asking the same question until we've succeeded in exterminating ourselves... Men and Women must truly want to address the truth and accept it... And that means that not only must men truly respect women, women must truly respect themselves... and desire to end the "war of the sexes"...

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

End-Stage Desmoid tumors; a commentary and a response

The idea of end-stage Desmoid tumors and the classification of Desmoid tumors being "Benign" is incredibly ironic...  It's also ironic that you can have a type of cancer, which is malignant, but puts you at a very low risk of dying.  If you understand the possible courses of Desmoid tumors you could imagine yourself as your vital organs and the desmoid tumor as a steamroller or that line of tanks in Tiananmen Square during the student protests of 1989, you being that protester standing infront of the 4 tanks, detaining them momentarily.

"Benign" has two general definitions: 1) Gentle; Kindly, 2(Medical Definition) harmless, not malignant.

So, how can a desmoid tumor be both "Benign" and lead you to an end-stage situation where the doctors tell you that there is nothing they can do?

I was intrigued by the beginning of a post in the F.A.P. group on Facebook:

Hi. Sorry, but this is a long post: I have just had my session with my psychologist and he suggested I chat with you.


And it continues:

I've got Gardners. I had a desmoid in my left rectus muscle removed and with the muscle also being removed have mesh there (2002). Now on the opposite side of my non-existant belly button 

...interesting to read, since I've heard myself saying the same thing about my non-existent belly button; something that must have incredible psychological and symbolic importance for the person who says so...

I have both a good sized desmoid (who I named Harry) and a incisional hernia (who I have named Horatio). The desmoid has been around since 2003 and hernia since 2011 and it is getting bigger. Naming these 'things' helped me cope initially somewhat and tell myself that they are not part of me. But, since November last year, they have grown a little more and are more out there (there is no more they can do medically). The name calling is not working. I detest them. I have now purchased a hernia belt to try and help. Surgically I have been told that I am untouchable as they worry they will lose me on the table - unless I get a bowel obstruction which requires surgery, and only then will they deal with the hernia and desmoid (its in amongst the jejenum and blood supply to the bowel). I find it difficult to accept that they won't look after the hernia and desmoid unless they are pushed because I feel that my psychological concerns to me are equally valid as an argument supporting the surgery. But, anyway, I am currently working on accepting this and moving on.


Anyway, I really detest, hate my desmoid and hernia and that part of my body and find it very difficult to look at that part of me at all (including when dressed). I can be having a great day walking around the shops until I see someone look at my abdomen and then back to my face and then back to my abdomen and then all I feel is disgust and embarrassment and then self-hate because of what I have to deal with and how they make me feel. I immediately move quickly to the ladies bathroom and lock myself in whilst I either cry and/or try positive self talk to change how awful I feel inside. And the thing is, I don't walk around flaunting my abdomen - it's not there for everyone to see.


So, what I would like to know, from anyone dealing with similar circumstances, is how are you coping and dealing with this? what do you do? I write in a journal and I try and practice mindfulness and obviously I talk to a psychologist, but, still I have this unending deep level of disgust and hate for the impact of the hernia and desmoid and the area in my body they are situated.


Although I don't experience desmoid tumors, I felt that the reason for her psychologist suggesting she ask FAPers about how they think she should respond to the situation, or how do they respond to the situation is so that someone will offer a productive coping mechanism applicable to her situation... removing psycho-theoretic conjecture and educated guesses by someone most probably without any related personal experiences on the subject. How do we relate to the situation and cope with it? So I responded:

This is both a psychological and existential concern, meaning that your mental health is being affected by your philosophical perspective of the issue. However, the truth is that it has less to do with appearance and how people look at you than it has to do with what the desmoid tumors truly mean for you: Lack of control, lack of medical (and possibly community) support and what seems like an imminent risk of death... I don't know how long you've lived with the diagnosis of FAP or when the first surgery was performed. Nor what the doctors told you about your future... Of the 6 grandchildren of my paternal grandmother who died very young and passed down the APC gene to her only two offspring. Only my older sister was found "free" of the gene (although no one has talked to her about the possibility of Attenuated FAP). One cousin died of a Brain Tumor at the age of 16. My younger sister developed cancer of the Thyroid at the age of 26 and rectal cancer 17 years later... I have an osteoma just above my left eye which EVERYONE notices and my cousin suffers horribly from desmoid tumors. I'm certain that decades ago the doctors told him "you're fortunate, desmoid tumors are benignant!" But, with experience (as you have), he learned that they can kill you by destroying everything in their path... But, that's what living with FAP is about, especially when we realize that what we were told about the colectomy removing the problem and that we could live free of worries later was far from the reality we would discover after the 80s... The portal vein that delivers blood from the small intestine to the liver and the heart (delivering almost all of the nutrients your body requires) is the largest vein in the body. So, surgery in that region would be extremely risky. When I had my J-pouch surgery removing my rectum, with the rectum and the prostate being incredibly "intwined" (actually, what is intwined are the nerves that enable the prostate to perform it's reproductive duties), just before the surgery, I asked the surgeon about the risk of sexual dysfunction. He didn't want to hear that question and he clearly lied or exaggerated about his and his partner's surgical expertise and the risk of something occuring... Well, "they" made me incapable of creating children... Who knows? Maybe they did a favor for my future wife and unborn children... Maybe they saved my life (prolonged it) with the surgery. Maybe they exaggerated the risk of not having my rectum removed. We can't truly know... What would happen if we were born knowing and understanding the reality that our destiny could be death any given "following day"? That we knew that there are an infinite number of ways we may die and that death could be any moment between our first breath and our 110th year? No, you are not your desmoid tumor and your hernia... But, they are realities within you... and they very well are an active part in your destiny. There are things we must accept. It's true, you can look for a second opinion. Maybe another surgeon would be willing to perform the surgery. Hopefully they aren't looking for more work and more income (that is a modern medical reality; performing unnecessary surgeries in order to fill your surgical work week and for paying heavy debts). But, what happens if you die on the surgical table by an irresponsible or a concerned doctor? Death is a moment we all encounter. And, yes, I've thought most of life about the luxury of not having to worry about the impending... Does that make those people (like my mother) fortunate? Those who've never set foot in a hospital for their own illness and/or surgery... My mother will be 72-years-old this year... While she's ALWAYS been with us during our surgeries and the surgeries of ALL of our relatives, she clearly doesn't understand our suffering and concerns and often has responded as if we are hyperchondriacal and inventing our ailments... She told my sister that the lump in her throat was "in her head"... and then my sister was diagnosed with Thyroid Cancer... And, yes, it is possible that the concerns related to the clear unknowns of FAP causes hyper-sensitivity towards certain physical states making it seem that we are inventing our problems... But that is also true existential reality of our experience WITH OURSELVES... This is extremely personal and no one can tell you what to do, how to do it, nor what you SHOULD feel. And that's why I prefer focussing upon the existential reality... How much of this genetics is out of our hands? Sometimes investigating and changing diets and leisure-time and sleep habits and trying to be proactive is a way of feeling in control, hence feeling better about yourself... It could be a necessary distraction. But, it is also important to understand who you truly are as a complete human being, understanding that you are mortal and finite... I think it is very important to focus upon your true qualities; what makes you happy about who you are... focus upon what you truly enjoy doing in your life (as long as those things aren't harmful to others or self-destructive; granted, you could say, "what is the problem with being self-destructive if that's taking matters into my own hands at the same time creating momentary satisfaction/enjoyment, while FAP and the desmoids are destructiveness outside of my control?") Is there something that makes you positively different from others? That makes you important for yourself? If this year is the last year of your life regardless of the cause or reason, how would you choose to enjoy it and what is there to appreciate about yourself? We can't control our negative genetic reality. We can't control 100% the course FAP takes within our bodies. But we can see ourselves differently, in a different light... If this is the last year of your life, should you spend it destroying yourself mentally? Or should you focus on what is truly wonderful/beautiful about you and your world? What is the last thing you wish for those close and important to you to remember about you? Your strengths and your constructive contributions... What fills you positively, especially when you aren't thinking about FAP, desmoids and hernia? I hope this was helpful.

Since the woman who shared the original post lives in Australia, I didn't receive her response until this morning.  Truthfully I was a bit surprised...

Thank you so much Ross for sharing so much; I read this last night and it really hit home. I couldn't respond because a great deal of what you explained so eloquently was how I have been feeling inside and had been stewing over over the years. I was first diagnosed in 2001. In 2002 they gave me 6 months - well that was what my parents were told. I made it through then and in 2012 was told bluntly it could be any given day. Quite often I say it is what it is. I am OK with there being no guarantee on where I will be one month one year etc from now since I am now used to the idea. I suppose naming these hernia and desmoids might have given me some distance from all that they are. The fact that they are different now to last year has I think shaken me and they have taken my focus from what I enjoy from who I knew myself to be