- MAN THE SYMBOLIC CREATURE
- THE FUTURE ITS NOT HARD TO SEE, DYSTOPIA.
- MEN UNIQUE AS A LIVING BEING, LIVING A PARALLEL LIFE OF SUBJECTIVITY, AND QUESTIONING THE MEANING OF LIFE.
- THE POWER OF ILLUSION, THE NARADA STORY
- DIFFERENT WAYS SAME GOAL, THE CONCEPTIONS OF THE SOUL, AND THE TURNING OF THE HEART.
- ON SACRED SPACE, THE HEART OF THE MATTER, RENE DAUMAL MOUNT ANALOGUE.
- WRITING IS THE ART OF BRINGING TO LIGHT, WHAT PREVIOUSLY WAS HIDDEN WITHIN YOURSELF.
- REINVENTING THE WORLD AS WE SEE IT, THE DANGER OF CHOOSING POORLY, PLEASE BE CAREFUL OF YOUR OWN NARRATIVE.
- POLISHING THE HEART, MIRROR OF THE SOUL
- IT MATTERS, HAVING THE PROPER ATTITUDE, TAKES YOU A LONG WAY, THE ORIGINAL MIND.
- THE BACKLASH OF HISTORY; GLOBALIZATION, AND ITS CONSQUENCES, WHAT IT ALL MEANS.
- THE SIMURGH, FARID UD DIN ATTAR’S THE BIRDS JOURNEY TO MOUNT QAF
Category Archives: Travel
FOR WHO DO YOU WRITE? FOR THE DEAD THAT WE LOVE… By chance, I do not know if to punish me, or to reward me, Fate has put the bus terminal in Navojoa, in the same road that connected … Continue reading
IN SEARCH OF THE SUMMER OF 1964 OR A STORK WITH NO NEST I was about eleven years of age when my family decided to go visit my paternal aunts who at the time were living in a quiet little … Continue reading
In my dreams the town represents sort like the ‘Land of the Father’ Paradise, and arriving at my Father’s and Grandma place, sort of represent the Divine in it’s Masculine attributes, or Heavenly Father, in many dreams my goal is … Continue reading
From time, to time, now, and again I dream of being in the road to Santiago, last night I was in a terrace above the jungle canopy in the North side of the river, as I descended to the banks my two brothers where there also, my eldest brother, let loose a boat in the shape of an old Cadillac, and floated down the current, my youngest brother after a moment hesitation dived in to the swell, myself running after them, after descending from the top of the terrace above the canopy of the tall trees, jumped and swim after them, the current was strong but the water was beautifully blue, and clear, I woke up as I climbed in to the boat to join my brothers…
As a child we traveled frequently to the town of Santiago Ixcuintla my Father’s birthplace just a few more miles down the road where my Grandmother and my aunts resided for many years. The look of the hill represented several things on my mind, the near end of a tedious five hour trip, the thrill of getting a treat at Penitas, and above all to see the magical, beautiful view of a river in the middle of a jungle forest! Continue reading