Saturday, July 9, 2011
Mother Was the Sun and the Moon
Yesterday I wrote about unconditional love. Like many other writings, I didn't like the flow. So, it remains a draft. I live in a hole, although married to Margarita. I'm a hermit, 5 "planets" in Virgo. I'm inspired in the mañana. However, Alejandro's wife Rejina appeared in the entrance to my cave while writing the response letter to my mother and invited us to her younger brother's graduation lunch. I said yes. I finished the piece and took Margarita, Alejandro jr and some of the sister-in-laws to the function, became bored, tired and lacking inspiration. Instead of taking a nap, I posted a bunch of photographs on my blog, because they also are a reflection of how I see and experience the world. They are one of my perspectives... Before I could begin the writing endeavor, I cooked for the 14 adults in a kitchen filled with visitors and others exasperating me... One thing you don't know about me is that I am the king of the kitchen. I can work with others in MY space. But, I can't accept loiterers and lingerers. If I must find a rincon, a corner, a hole in the wall, if I must work under the table, watch out! What a fool am I! I know who I am. But I never knew how to truly actualize that person. Give me the center of the dance floor and make space. Give me a large study and watch me paint, you on the perimeter, because I cross front to back, side to side. I stand on chairs, I listen to the music I must hear and maybe I dance. Do you want me to paint your face? Well, that's me in the kitchen too... I know where I am. I know who I am. The problem is that maybe I should change my name. Because, when you look me up on the internet, I become absolete. All my tocayos sharing my name have accomplished my unattainable success beginning with Stanford University, Harvard College, Brown, Columbia... They are editors, published writers, lawyers, brokers, investors, artists, actors and photographers. Some have become very wealthy. Some in New York City. Some live in New Jersey. They have much different faces. However they all share some sort of material success, with the exception of that child molester behind bars. For some reason I can't understand that not me... I see his photograph and I just can't see how we can share the same name... Would you believe I "bumped into" again, my tocayo Ross Goldstein who was at UMASS while I was at Hampshire College who ended up in the slammer and the local Amherst papers for having an open beer can in his hand while standing on Main Street? One day I met with my thesis chairperson, Penina Glazer who said, "You had a tough night, didn't you?" and she mentioned that she read about me in the papers that morning. You have absolutely no idea just how scandalized I felt. My guilty complex became horribly inflamed. I spent days obsessing over how to make Penina believe that that wasn't me. I didn't drink beer at the time. It would be months before Randi would introduce me to Negra Modelo. I looked up that bad double of mine and left a message on his answering machine telling him to be careful with how he treats my name, my image. No, I must be inventing that, although I did look him up in some sort of directory... Would you also believe that that Ross Goldstein is a regional manager for Starbucks? First we went to school "together". And now we both travel around a country selling coffee!
Do you know who is Ross Goldstein? Well, maybe it doesn't truly matter. Afterall, we are almost 7 billion people on this planet, all of us believe we are the center of the universe, although our mother was both the sun and the moon...
That's why you need unconditional love, because there are just too many surprises in this life, so many unknown variables. Unconditional love offers you one sure bet in this life where you may have so many people sharing your name and doing things you believe you should have done, gaining respect, prestige and love that should have been yours. The least you can have is your mother. But that's not enough for me. And I don't want to be that Ross Goldstein whom only a mother could love. But did she truly love me? and when?