The Transfer of Genes

The clearest evidence of growth is admitting the parts of one's self that were shaped by one's lineage; the shadows and lights given to us by our genomes, influenced by both nature and nurture.

Last night, sitting with my daughter, running through some mathematics flash cards, I heard the stern voice of my father saying, "Come on, Saskia, this should be automatic. You need to know this stuff like a reflex." Internally, I laughed. I am my father's son; not in all areas, but make no mistake, my father's blood runs deep in my veins.

Exactly Where I Need to Be

Simple, yet so difficult for us to surrender to its truth.

642 Things to Write About

http://www.amazon.com/Things-Journal-Francisco-Writers-Grotto/dp/1452105448/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1376310964&sr=1-1&keywords=642+things+to+write+about

Based on my reference above, based on the book, 642 Things To Write About, I would like to share a few of my responses from that book with you.

Prompt: Arsenic

My Response: From where can I get some? ... Just to store away for a rainy day ... for someone else.

Prompt: A Present from your mother

My Response: Her gift of sacrifice; her willingness to go to Kmart and beg for forgiveness to the store manager based on my crime of shoplifting. My mother said it like this -- "I will come down to the store and beg on my knees in front of everyone, so you may take compassion upon my son and I, and not bring him to court." -- I am still moved by her gift.

Prompt: I can't go into this right now, but if I could, I'd tell you this...

My Response: I'm in love with you, and I'm terrified of your rejection so I do not want to speak of this right now. But if you choose to, I am open to your thoughts, at another time. This life is too short for us to miss these moments. You have been a force of quirky love in my life. I am paralyzed by all that is you. I only pretend to be less interested in you, in hopes that I may avoid all sorrow. But I know the truth: risk not taken is a life not lived. So, I pray that I go boldly, in hopes that the mighty forces may rescue me.

Transatlantic Poetry

I wrote a poem in English, then, via an online translator, I put the poem through several other non-English languages, then finally, I translated it back to English. The following poems are the original English version then its transatlantic version.

Haiku
(transatlantic: English-spanish-dutch-english)

Original:

I miss home tonight.
People are all around me.
I am so alone.

Transatlantic:

I don't miss this evening at home.

All the people around me.

I am only.

 

How my life goes
(Transatlantic: English-Hebrew-Persian-English)

Original:

this is the story of how my life goes
of a rage as old as freshly fallen snow
the twists and turns pinched on a peculiar road
where i’ve tried to live as if i were really bold

we’ve got sadness and laughter and the jesus craze
long nights of drinking scotch with the wild sex days
i want to tell you all but i’m much too afraid
so hey

i was the boy who often felt alone
i prayed: dear god don’t leave me on my own
my feet are sinking and i’m standing on a tombstone
will i ever really feel much at home

i got three kids and two of them i really didn’t want
but now that they’re here i accept them like my thoughts
i’m standing still even though my urge is to walk
so hey

Transatlantic:

This is my life story of how the new old anger headlock,
snow fell on roads blocked concluded that I tried
to live as if it's really bold

We are sad, laughter, Christ there was a craze
last time of the night of drinking water
they live with Scotland sex days
I want to say to you but I am scared so much
say hello,

I was a child often feel alone
I pray that God drowning in my feet,
I of the government will ever really at home,

I three children,
two of them that I really do not want to
but now that they are here, as I accept my thoughts
I still there is need for me to go
say hello

The Purple Bridge
(Transatlantic: English-Swedish-Chinese-English)

Original:

There's a bridge that turns purple
into white
I was walking on that bridge
being asked to choose between the purple and the white
So I started heading for the light, the white
because that's what I've been taught to do
always move towards the white
always move towards the light

But I am purple
I am staying with purple
I am staying with the purple light
I am staying with purple tonight
I am purple man
I am staying with me tonight

Transatlantic:

Has the rotation purple and white
I goes to the bridge to request the bridge
of between choice
in the purple and white, therefore I start in the light, white, because is any I always moves in the optics toward the white always comes, but I purple

I and I and purple light will stay together
I and purple will stay together
the purple will stay together
I am the purple person
I tonight and I stay together tonight

 

I think my adversary's lawyer knew he was in for a long day from the get go. The court stenographer had to swear me in, and this is what happened:

Court Stenographer (CS): Do you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?
Me: To the best of my ability.
Adversary Lawyer (AL): You must answer yes or no.
CS: I need a 'yes' or 'no'
Me: Well, that's where I have a problem, because 'truth' is based upon perception. For me to say that I will tell the 'whole truth' already starts me off with a lie, thus nullifying me telling the truth. Will you allow me to explain something to you?
AL: Sure.
Me: Do you remember the NASA shuttle explosion, and that woman Christa McAuliffe who was a teacher? I remember that day clearly. I was in my 8th grade English class watching it with my classmates. I remember it exactly. It took place in 1985. I was in the 8th grade. Recently, though, I had a discussion with a friend of mine that swore the accident took place in 1986. I vehemently disagreed. So, we looked it up. My friend was correct. It happened in January of 1986, which placed me in the 9th grade, and probably not in an English class. If today, the deposition happened before I re-looked up that information, and I claimed that the NASA explosion happened in 1985, it would not be the truth, nor the whole truth. It would be a false memory that was incorrect, thus, untrue.

Um...This is how the deposition started. Eventually, I said, "alright, alright I'll play this silly game with you, but I'm not swearing to God about it." So, they affirmed my duty to tell the truth.

Lawyers are all about the law and the words; poets are all about the words and the wording of words. Word!

This morning, before heading to my deposition, I tried to channel Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Jesus, Buddha, Thich Nhat Hanh, and all the peaceful warriors from past and present. But when I entered the room for the deposition, the only person who decided to make his presence known, within me, was my contentious father.

I face a tough day today, one that tests me more for my spiritual principles of peace; though, it will also test me on legal levels as well. For those of you who know the parts of my story, in the last three to four years, that, at times, have rendered me speechless, enraged, weakened, depressed, aloof, angered, will understand to what I am referring. For those who do not know my story of the last three to four years, the details themselves do not matter. Where I am right now is all that I know and have.

I have a court deposition today to face the insidious greed of one of the mothers of my sons and her lawyer. Though the actual deposition weighs heavily on my mind, I am more concerned with how I will handle this situation in my heart. It is the only and most important area of this whole ordeal. The deposition will come and go, but my character will be leaving the room with me. The war I face is not against flesh nor blood, but against all those things unseen.

I want to defend myself and speak the truth of the matter, but I want my heart to be free of the poison that I feel sits so close to my lungs and veins. If I wish to see peace, I must become this peace. This will be the most difficult task today.

Similarly, I've been writing in this journal called, 642 Things to Write About. What a wonderful book filled with many inspirational ideas for writing. One of them sticks out to me at this moment: Write a love letter to someone you despise.

Hmm...may my heart find love, not hate; may both of my cheeks burn from the assault; may I write these letters of love to those I despise, as I answer my enemy.

http://www.amazon.com/Things-Journal-Francisco-Writers-Grotto/dp/1452105448/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1375961109&sr=1-1&keywords=642+things+to+write+about 

Tomorrow, I will be sitting for my deposition for this ongoing case concerning one of my sons. It is a high stress time for me. Why? Because this stuff is just meaningless. The mother of this son gets plenty enough child support for our son, but she is insistent to live in a world built on fantasy and some sense of petty stardom. Her notion of justice is to grab more than her share or to let the government and others support and take care of her. How did I get myself mixed up with such an individual.

Well, for starters, she is charming, attractive, and manipulative. She has walked through this life using her seductive skills to attain what she wants. If she can't obtain it by begging or seducing, she uses any means necessary to bring this to light. Case in point: our son. Our son was born out of deception. He is three now. I feel sorry for him, because I've seen children who have lived through the courtroom drama of their parents, and rarely, if ever, do I see these children as healthy teens. So, sadly, I weep for my son, M, as life will either tear him apart, make him jaded, or bruise and wound him.

Tomorrow will be here soon enough. I cannot fret nor worry about those things that are not. The deposition and the mother of my son, M, will all pass. My life is larger than any given moment, and most certainly, larger than lawyers, judges, greedy mothers, and depositions. I will find humor in it all, for this is where my truth lies.

I will sleep well tonight. I will relax, and most importantly, allow my mind to relax. I will meditate on these words by Cloud Cult; song -- 'Your Show Starts Now':

"Grandma said it don't matter where we go to or come from.
She said, "Worry about what you're made to do not what you're made of."
They say we're made of chaos. I say we're made of love.
And that's why our show starts now. Our show starts now.

Hold your breath for a better day, and you'll never learn how to breathe.
You're afraid of the dark, but that's where you learn to see.
Your no good to the living if you're too afraid to bleed.

And that's why your show starts now Your show starts now." 

This Dark Time

I have a source of perilous and draining energy. She is one made from the root of all that I oppose, but she is connected to my life in a way that I cannot just shake. And this and next week, I face her in legal atmospheres that are filled with the greediest of souls. She is lover to Angels of light and the laughter that knows only shadows, and I am drained.

I was comforted by a scene from the former television series, Joan of Arcadia. For those of you who have never viewed any of the episodes, I highly recommend it. But allow me to draw your attention to something very specific that is helping me move one foot in front of the other. So, I continue...as I challenge all others to do.

Dog Walker God: Did you ever hear the riddle about the man, his boxes, and the bridge?
Joan: S-stop, I... I just want my friend back.
Dog Walker God: A man had three boxes, each box weighed five pounds, the man weighed 190. The bridge could only support 200. How did the man make it across the bridge with all his boxes?
Joan: This is just cruel.
Dog Walker God: How did he get across, Joan?
Joan: He juggles! Yes, okay, I get it, he keeps one box in the air the whole time! Yes, I get it! What are you saying? That if I juggle boxes across a bridge, I'll see Judith again?
Dog Walker God: Joan, the bridge is Life. The boxes: all your feelings. Your love. Your joy. Your pain. Your loss. Everyone is crossing a bridge with more weight than they can bear. So, you juggle.