2 hymns have come to mind a lot lately:

O soul are you wary and troubled
No light in the darkness you see?
There’s a light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free!

Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of his glory and grace

and

Rock of Ages, cleft for me
Let me hide myself in Thee
Let the water and the blood
From Thy wounded side which flowed
Be of sin the double cure
Save from wrath and make me pure

Beautiful, aren’t they?

It has been difficult for me to get into “the zone of worship” lately.  One church I attend has a very dry singing of hymns, (and I love hymns); the other church is very loud and repetitive.  I have wondered why this is, and sad I haven’t been able to change it yet.  But I have been in “the zone of worship” in a new place, the gym.

Marty gave me a shuffle for my vacation a few years ago.  I listen to sacred music while I read and try to forget I’m working out most often.  But I do have some contemporary/alternative/worship songs on there too.  When they play, I just want to sing out while on the elliptical machine, or treadmill or stretching.  I have often walked to my car singing along hoping no one walks close enough to me to hear.  Who knew working out would have such a great side benefit?

I have an image in my head of “mi tia Hortencia“. She stands next to me, tall and powerful. Her beautiful chocolate colored skin, her dark brown eyes and high cheek bones are the envy of women around her. The strong build of her body is only matched by the calloused, unfairness of life. Her voice is loud and harsh and commands fear if not respect even when it´s soft.

Yesterday after almost 30 years i saw her again. Sitting in a wheel chair her brittle and barely abled body revealed the age mirrored by every wall in her house. While I sat remembering the last time I saw her, the clouds that had been following us all morning finally gave way to a bit of rain that interrupted my nostalgic feeling and reminded me of all the bitterness and regret that still lives in that dark and empty house.

It is sad for me to know that my aunt choose hate and bitterness for many years and in her old age is reaping so much regret and loneliness. A generation ago my family was divided into two by this brittle woman and there was much hate and malice in her heart. I felt compassion for her and to a degree that would be uncomfortable to most people who know her, I felt affection for her. My mind raced to a scene in the book of Moses to a conversation between Enoch and God.

And Enoch said unto the Lord: How is it that thou canst weep, seeing thou art holy, and from all eternity to all eternity?

The Lord said unto Enoch: Behold these thy brethren; they are the workmanship of mine own hands, and I gave unto them their knowledge, in the day I created them; and in the Garden of Eden, gave I unto man his agency;And unto thy brethren have I said, and also given commandment, that they should love one another, and that they should choose me, their Father; but behold, they are without affection, and they hate their own blood;…

…Wherefore, I can stretch forth mine hands and hold all the creations which I have made; and mine eye can pierce them also, and among all the workmanship of mine hands there has not been so great wickedness as among thy brethren…

…and the whole heavens shall weep over them, even all the workmanship of mine hands; wherefore should not the heavens weep, seeing these shall suffer?

I am grateful for loving a woman that knows God. Soon her and I will start a new family and we will choose God, our Father and love one another.

I’m watching the Rose Parade on TV. Marty and I went to watch it this morning. We were really excited to see the USC band, but, the reason we went was to see the marching storm troopers. And the ewoks, and Naboo, and Darth Vader, and all the others. And George Lucas himself. I hear he also especially picked a marching band to be the Star Wars band. It was an amazing morning to spend with my Star Wars love.

vacuum cleaner
fan
ergonomic keyboard (compatible with a mac, USB port)

membership to costco

membership to the aquarium of the pacific
membership to the huntington library and garden

cds
-celtic woman
-star wars soundtrack

dvds
-fiddler on the roof
-mary poppins
-the sound of music

Bethie took this quick clip of me trying to rollerblade. Compared to Peter, I look like a baby learning to walk — it kind of felt that way too. You know, sometimes life kinda has a way of making me feel like this even if I’m not in rollerblades.

I became a graphic designer with my very first social commentary using public space. The place – the boy’s restroom – of course wasn’t very public, and the commentary – a U.S. flag with a swastika in place of the 50 stars – wasn’t very social. I have to admit that getting both teachers and students talking about the drawings I was making of this flag all over school both scared me and fascinated me. I didn’t want to get in trouble so I stopped, but the talk about them continued all year long.

The idea for the symbol was fueled in my head by movies like No Retreat, No Surrender, Red Dawn, and Rocky IV that depicted the Russians as the villains of the story and the good ol’ US of A folks as the heroes. By now you might be inclined to ask “what does a swastika have to do with Russia?” Well nothing of course, but to a first generation Mexican kid, who didn’t speak very much English and understood less than he spoke, Russia and swastikas went hand in hand – don’t argue, it made sense to me in 6th grade — yes you read that right, it was 6th grade when I first realized that there was a lot more going on in the public space around me that I had’t noticed before.

One day on my way home from school, I noticed scribbling on the window of the bus. I had no idea what it said, but I was so attracted by the strokes and curves; some were thin and folded into themselves and others gradually expanded from thin to thick and then to thin again. It was out of place, it didn’t belong in the window of a bus and I loved it!The following school year – 7th grade – I learned that the culprits of those scribbles were two of my sisters close friends; Charlie and Flavio, two graffiti artists that went by the names of Rave and Sake – incidentally this is what the scribbles on the bus spelled out.

I don’t need to get into details about how I picked up the “craft”. It is sufficient enough to say that I spent countless hours practicing my name, I loved writing it over and over again just to look at the letters come together, if you think that is weird, well it is, but you should read what some folks have to say about letters.

So I pursued my love for letters as a graffiti artist for several years and after a 10 year detour through music, customer service and missionary work, I am back on track – I think. I started painting again about a year ago, but with wedding preparations and work I have not painted in many months. Still I keep my nice stash of paint in the closet.

One of the reason I love browsing through other people’s blogs is because every once in a while — and almost always as of lately — I run into some great little someth’ngs like Bob Dob’s Paintings of which this one and this one are my favorite.

As a teacher, I spend a lot of time talking about responsibility. It is something we want the kids to learn. Our first reading unit’s theme is risks & consequences, it really leads into responsibility. I am frustrated by responsibility. Why is it something we want kids to learn, but can’t expect from their associated adults? And instead pass that responsibility to others, who are not given the authority to take it?

It’s Halloween. Sitting in my cubicle, working — or rather writing this post — you would never know it. There is no candy, no decorations and no costumes. It is business as usual. I guess you can say that it is any “anti-Halloween celebrating” persons dream.

Bethie and I have both talked about this day and we both sort of agree on why celebrating it traditionally is sort of “evil” in a way, even although I am usually inclined to give in to the cultural aspect of the celebrations, Bethie on the other hand is determined to not. We are however not completely opposed to celebrating “Dia de los Muertos”, and why? well perhaps because it sounds more culturally meaningful than Halloween, or because we both know little about it. So I decided to do a little bit of research and compare the two holidays. I doubt that my findings will do anything in terms of persuading us to view either one of these holidays any different than we do now.

Halloween:

• Celebrated on the night of October 31
• The name is shortened from All-hallow-even, or the evening before “All Hallows’ Day”
• It is said to have originated in Ireland
• The Celts celebrated Halloween as Samhain (pronounced /’s?aun?/), “End of Summer”, a pastoral and agricultural fire festival or feast, during this season the normal order of the universe is suspended. The barriers between the natural and the supernatural are temporarily removed resulting in the portal through which we pass on during death lying open. Thus, the spirits of the dead move freely among the living.
• Hoping to do away with pagan traditions of the Irish people Pope Gregory IV standardized the date of All Saints’ Day, or All Hallows’ Day, on November 1 to the entire Western Church in 835.
• Because Samhain had traditionally fallen the night before All Hallows’, it eventually became known as All Hallows’ Even’ or Hallowe’en.
• Celebrated mostly by children dressing in costumes and going door-to-door collecting sweets, fruit, and other treats.

Dia de los Muertos:

• Celebrated on November 1 and November 2
• Celebrations are traced to the Aztec month of Miccailhuitontli, presided by the goddess Mictecacihuatl (”Lady of the Dead”), and dedicated to children and the dead. The rituals during this month also featured a festivity dedicated to the major Aztec war deity, Huitzilopochtli (”Sinister Hummingbird”)….
• Indigenous people celebrated the lives of the deceased, and the continuation of life; the belief is not that death is the end, but rather the beginning of a new stage in life.
• The ancient festival was originally celebrated in late July/early August. The feast was moved to All Hallows’ Eve by Spanish priests hoping to do away with the pagan traditions of the indigenous people.
• Families usually clean and visit the cemeteries where their loved ones are buried and decorate their graves with offerings of orange marigold and foods. Toys are brought for dead children, and bottles of tequila, mezcal, pulque or atole for adults. Offerings are also put in homes, with foods such as candied pumpkin, pan de muerto or sugar skulls and beverages such as atole. The ofrendas are left out in the homes as a welcoming gesture for the deceased.

As you can see both of these holidays are very much rooted in paganism if you want to be technical, but if you want to be really technical so is our beloved Christmas holiday, the celebration of birthdays, Valentines Day, The Easter Rabbit etc…

So what’s the point in celebrating any holiday at all?