Discurso de aceptacion de Premio Nobel (Ernest Hemingway)

Hemingway consumido con su obra

Teniendo ninguna facilidad en el arte de discursos y ninguna maestria en el oratorio ni dominacion en retorica, deseo darle las gracias a los administradores de la generosidad de Alfred Nobel por este Premio.

Ningun escritor que conoce a los gran escritores que no recibieron el Premio puede aceptarlo sin nada mas que humilidad. No hay necesidad de mencionar a estos escritores. Todo el mundo puede crear su propia lista segun su sabiduria y conciencia.

Seria imposible pedirle al embajador de mi pais leer un discurso en que un escritor diga todas las cosas dentro de su corazon. Puede que las cosas no sean inmediatamente discernibles en lo que un hombre escriba, y en esto el algunas veces es afortunado; pero eventualmente son sumamente plenas y, a traves de estas y el grado de alquimia que el posee, el aguantara--o sera olvidado.

La escritura, en su mejoria, es una vida solitaria. Organizaciones de escritores plestan ayuda a la soledad del escritor, pero dudo que mejoren su escritura. El crece en estatura publica mientras sacude su soledad, y muchas veces su obra empeora. El hace su trabajo solo y, si el es un escritor realmente cumbre, tendra que asombrar la eternidad, o su falta, cada dia.

Para un escritor real cada libro debe ser un nuevo comienzo donde el intenta de nuevo algo que es inalcancable. El siempre debe intentar algo que nunca se ha hecho, o que otros han intentado y han fracasado. Luego algunas veces, con gran suerte, el sera exitoso.

Que simple seria la escritura de literatura si solamente fuera necesario escribir de otra manera lo que ya se ha escrito bien. Es porque hemos tenido tan buenos escritores en el pasado que un escritor es empujado mas alla de donde puede ir, donde ya nadie lo puede ayudar.

He hablado mucho por un escritor. Un escritor debe escribir lo que tiene que decir y no decirlo. De nuevo, les doy las gracias.

Give Him Credit

Tim Tebow tebowing. "Tebowing" has become a sensation all around the world

I’m not so sure how I feel about Tim Tebow the athlete; the quarterback with a viable NFL future. Not so sure if this kid has what it takes. Not sure than he can weather even a handful of seasons in the gritty sport. How I feel about him as a man, however, is an entirely different matter.

In the world of professional sports, where athletes mire their lives in controversy and are only role models strictly within the confines of the sport and not in their personal lives, where sexual improprieties, drug allegations, nightclub shootings, dog fighting scandals, gross mismanagement of money, and even recently in the case of former Washington Wizards guard Javaris Crittenton even murder hold sway, it is refreshing to finally see an athlete that conducts himself in a clean and upstanding way. Here’s someone that you can say is a positive role model in the full sense of the word, without having to make glaring exceptions of his personal character.

I’m sure Tim Tebow is not perfect; however, on the other hand, I’m all but sure he’ll never shame his way into the headlines by driving drunk and killing a pedestrian (Donte Stallworth), or choking and holding his wife at gunpoint (Allen Iverson). I’m pretty sure he’ll never shoot himself in the foot at a nightclub, like Plaxico Burress’ historically dumb blunder to end all dumb blunders. (He gives a whole new, LITERAL meaning to shooting yourself in the foot.)

Even Michael Jordan, who will always remain one of my favorite athletes and had a pretty clean cut image throughout his career, was known outside the court for his infidelities and gambling (he famously lost 1.2 million on the golf course in a gambling spree against Richard Esquinas). A ten-year-old can hang a poster of Tim Tebow on his bedroom wall without having to wince at a slew of tattoos and body ink that adorn his arms like barbed wire. Not that I have anything against tattoos (a tattoo can be classy, tasteful, and even meaningful), but how easily we forget that in American culture tattoos, especially when they cover 95% of your body, have traditionally symbolized gangs and prison life. Oh, and not to forget, lack of social upward mobility.

Again, Tim Tebow the athlete, I’m not so sure about. He may be around for a year or two, and permanently fall off the radar. But give him credit for taking his job as a role model and a source of inspiration to so many millions seriously. This alone makes me wish that he succeeds. At least if he does, I might proudly wear a Broncos jersey. Hell, at this point I might wear one even if he bombs.

10 Things to Remember About Relationships

1. Fools rush in. This is another way of saying do not settle for anyone that you don’t genuinely love and enjoy. If there are red flags that you think may eventually undermine or compromise the relationship, do not commit yourself to that person. Trust me: you’ll regret it later.

2. It’s a give and take. Both of you have to make concessions. There should be no double standards. Double standards are a recipe for a disaster, and oftentimes they’re realized without one person knowing and the other knowing all too well. This creates resentment, as well as a power struggle that will complicate things down the road. At heart, we are all fair and generous—so let’s show it with our partners.

3. Agree on your values. Do both of you have the same values? Opposites can sometimes attract, but no matter how opposite they are, there has to be a core set of values that both people agree on in order for that relationship to work. Make sure that the both of you see eye-to-eye on the most important things, particularly those that pertain to the relationship.

4. Bring the skeletons out of the closet (they’re gathering too much dust, anyway). These will come out sooner or later, so it’s best they come out during the initial stages of the relationship and not when it’s already too late and will likely compromise everything. Or worse yet, when your partner uncovers the betrayal. Be honest and forthcoming. Your partner may not accept the baggage and ditch out on you, but at least you saved yourself the heartache of it happening later on when you already have a slew of invested feelings and emotions.

5. Take it slow. This mostly relates to the beginning of the relationship, during the courtship phase or shortly after it. One date a week is good. Like any good book or movie, you want the relationship to unfold in a natural and fruitful way. The healthiest relationships are those that have developed organically, not frantically rushed into their climax.

6. It's not all about the sex. In fact, the bulk of the relationship should revolve around how the two of you get along. This is not meant to undermine the importance of intimacy, but only to highlight that sex alone will not carry the relationship. Like all things worthwhile, relationships rely on several important variants, of which sex is only one of them.

7. Don’t lose your focus. In this fast-paced world where our careers, friends, and even children vie for our attention, we tend to lose focus on our significant others. At the very least, we will ignore or brush aside important aspects of our relationships. This is highly problematic, and should be curbed by periodic evaluations of the relationship’s progress. This is how we "keep the fire alive" and never get bored of our partners.

8. Trust is hard to regain. Therefore, conduct your relationship as you would your personal, individual life: with the highest level of integrity. Trust is not impossible to regain, but it is extremely difficult. When your partner has lost your trust, it requires a mental rewiring to gain it back—and not everyone is capable of this. Dishonesty is not only toxic to the relationship, but it’s a form of self-sabotage.

9. It won’t always be Disney World. Ride it out. There will be dark moments, but if those don’t compromise the integrity and wholeness of the relationship, then weather the storm. More often than not, you will find that these were only necessary bumps along the way. From them, your relationship will grow.

10. Know when to cut your losses. If the relationship has reached the critical point of no salvation; if every method of recourse has failed; if you cannot even stand to see your partner any longer and infidelity tempts you at every turn, then this is the ultimate moment for you to proclaim, "Enough is enough!" Ideally, the two of you will come to that consensus together, but in the real world this is rare. There will usually be a party that feels betrayed or deceived, and will remain stubbornly bitter.

A Long Look in the Mirror

If I were Joe Paterno right now, I would take a long look at myself in the mirror and question my integrity as a human being. I would forget about my 400 wins, my tenured reputation, and my success, and concede that these all mean nothing in the face of cowardice. I would forget about the glory that comes with coaching for over 30 years and try to feel the hurt and anguish that at least one man (and presumably more) feels now and felt several years ago as his innocence was robbed. I would then give up all efforts of trying to get my job back, I’d fire my powerful Washington attorney and immediately schedule a press conference where I apologize to Sandusky’s victim, Penn State and all its fans, and the entire world for my failure to act. I would finally turn to my six children, get down on my knees, and admit to them that I have failed them as a father.

There’s only one problem: Paterno’s got no balls. He isn’t even a shred of a man.

Sandusky himself is a slimy animal that has no hope of redemption. This man got away with raping young boys under the guise of helping them for decades, and now he doesn’t have himself to look at but God. And his cellmate Bubba once he reaches jail, and I’m sure Bubba’s gonna have a whole lotta fun with him. Oh well. Poetic justice, I guess.

Penn State as an institution and all the enablers that allowed Sandusky to get away with his lasciviousness don’t just have a damage control problem to deal with, but an asterisk that will forever brand their rich legacy. Might as well. Winning for them was more important than human lives, so an asterisk is the perfect symbol to define their legacy of shame.

Let this serve as an example for all institutions, schools and otherwise. There’s nothing wrong with success, but a moral imperative always comes first. You can choose to ignore it, but sooner or later it will come back with sound and fury. And by then all your success would have meant nothing. It’ll just be another scrap of useless trivia.

Some Thoughts on Turning 26

Manhood continually creeps up on me. I don’t know that it will ever fully be there. I will always remain too young and wild at heart. Maybe this is best. Maybe manhood means settling down and slowly dying. I want to live forever.

For all my attempts, I can’t help but brood on the fact that at 26 I’m still a full year younger than my brother when he died. At 26 Dave was still brimming with life, often on the brink of a new adventure. This isn’t an uncomfortable thought, even though his death in many ways still remains uncomfortable, unpleasant. It’s simply something that inspires awe and, above all, humility. It grounds me whenever I think I’m the best thing since Jesus, which is often. Maybe manhood is good; maybe it means that it’s time to shed false notions of self-worth. To relinquish a lot of my needy narcissism.

Maybe it’s best not to think along the lines of manhood. Maybe it’s better to simply think along the lines of being, of living in the present. In this vein, I will create a new mission statement: a transformative message that will embody what I strive to be--and what matters.

MISSION STATEMENT: TO PURSUE MY PASSIONS AT ALL COSTS, DILIGENTLY AND WHOLE-HEARTEDLY, AND IGNORE THE THINGS THAT BORE ME; TO REMAIN TRUE, WHOLE AND LOYAL TO MYSELF AND NEVER FORGET THAT I AM A WALKING TEMPLE; TO LOVE MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS, AS WELL AS MY ENVIRONMENT; TO TREAT EVERYONE WITH RESPECT, UNLESS IT’S UNMERITED, AND TO TREAT EVERYTHING ACCORDING TO ITS VALUE; TO NEVER FORGET THAT MATERIAL THINGS ARE JUST THAT: THINGS, AND WILL NEVER MAKE ME GROW AS A PERSON, ONLY ERODE LIKE SAND DUNES; TO NOURISH, NURTURE, AND FOSTER MY CHILDREN AND MY COMMUNITY; TO LEAVE WHAT I TOUCH BETTER THAN IT WAS BEFORE I CAME; TO BE NOTHING OTHER THAN MICHAEL RIVERA SARMIENTO: AN INDIVIDUAL AND, MOST IMPORTANTLY, A MAN.

I hope that wasn’t too lofty or unrealistic, as are many of the mission statements falsely touted by companies and organizations. I hope it wasn’t too long-winded, because I like nothing more than simplicity.

I hope that whatever “manhood” is, this mission statement at least came close to it. If it didn’t, oh well. I’m more than happy remaining a child.

Discussing life w/ Rene

Greatness

I tiptoed my way to the threshold,
   hesitated,
      recoiled,
         lost my balance,
but then,
   when the unforgiving second wound down,
I found my footing.

I breathed in the world:
   Its fragrances and fumes,
and lit a fire in my lungs.

I’m a titan and an elf,
   a man of flesh and bone,
of rippling sinews,
   and a counselor to kings.

But I am,
   most gracefully and beautifully,
a loving son and brother—
   a friend when darkness drops low.

A Woman Who's Touched My Life

Yesterday is history.
Tomorrow is a mystery.
Today is a gift.
That's why it's called the present. :]

There is a diminutive old lady named Teresa Gadja, who is truly a giantess of humanity. Teresa is somewhere in her mid-80s; I know her and of her because, as a devoted Nine West customer, she’s taken the joy of sharing her life story with me, with all its tumult and triumph. I, on my part, have taken the joy of listening and sharing her story with all of you.

Teresa is a Hungarian-German Jew who survived the persecution and genocide unleashed on Hungary by Adolf Hiter during WWII. One day, the Nazis came to her home and forced her family, along with thousands of others, out at gunpoint. They transported her to Poland in a truck filled to the tiniest corner with men, women and children. The ones who didn’t survive the trek were simply dumped outside during periodic “trash stops.” They were taken, among other places, to Auschwitz.

Teresa managed to survive the Holocaust unscathed. Following the war, she emigrated to Germany where she worked as a common maid and housekeeper during the post-war years. She’s very particular about expressing that she was just happy to be alive and working. It wasn’t till the mid-50s that her and her husband got the opportunity to go to the U.S. They never returned to Germany. Her husband is dead now, but Teresa’s spirit and joie de vivre is as alive as ever.

Teresa still exercises and dances. The fact that she buys her shoes at Nine West says enough in itself. I think she’s easily our oldest regular customer. She’s truly a historic relic. But she doesn’t delve in the past unless prodded. “Ven you get as old as I am,” she tells me in her beautiful German accent, “you gotta just live in the moment.” That is probably not the average perspective of someone her age. If this woman who has seen the rise and fall of empires and the cataclysmic change of a generation can live in the moment, it goes without saying that we all can.

Whatever you do, live in the moment. Tomorrow is not promised. Variations of this truism have riddled the pages of history. Here’s James Dean’s, who died abruptly at 24 in a car crash: “Dream as if you’ll live forever, live as if you’ll die today.” Never has so much wisdom been expressed by so young a man.

Letter to Obama

Taking heat from reporters

Dear Mr. President,

I congratulate you on your recent killing of Osama bin Laden, even though this is the most inhumane thing you have done as president and the vast majority of America (including myself) is not convinced that he is dead, anyhow. So I suppose I’m thanking you because, let’s face it, this very likely means that you will serve a second term as president, and the American public will be spared from another nutjob like Sarah Palin, George W or Donald Trump--although, as for Mike Huckabee or Newt Gingrich, I probably wouldn’t mind them at this point. But Mr. Obama, what’s going on! For a moment there, I thought you were going to overhaul and change the system: a new Lincoln, a modern-day Franklin D. Roosevelt; most importantly, a fresh Thomas Jefferson, who believed a revolution is due every generation. Instead, you have stagnated on important environmental issues by maintaining the status quo of not joining the Kyoto Protocol and thus mandating the U.S. to reduce gas emissions (most of Europe is already onboard, or soon will be). After your speech in Cairo early in your presidency, you have largely ignored the Middle East (except to continue that evil, oil-driven war in Afghanistan). Palestine and Israel are still precisely where they were after the end of the Camp David Accords, all these years later; Gaza is still holed in, and Israeli bulldozers are still knocking down Palestinian houses like dominos. You have still failed to recognize the integrity of Cuba, and have engaged in a Kennedy-era mentality that deem Fidel and Raul Castro the Satans of the Caribbean.

I know how hard it is to effect change with such a divided, bipartisan Congress (and maybe I, like so many other Americans, am asking for too much), but you worked your magic with your Obamacare legislation. Can’t you do it again? As the saying goes, can’t you lay another egg? I do a Google Images search of you and my query generates endless side-by-side comparisons of you and Herbert Hoover. The last thing you want for your legacy is to be compared to Hoover. Hoover is the very embodiment of incompetence and, more sourly, impotence. To be clear, the crowd that views you as ineffectual is not the same crowd that views you as a contemporary of Hitler or Heath Ledger’s version of the Joker (those are the Sarah-Palin-touting idiots--and those we can ignore). These are everyday, thinking Americans who simply and genuinely feel let down by your broken promises and failed agendas. This all makes me miss Joe the Plumber a little; at least this rambling, out-of-work Joe Six-pack who wasn’t even a real plumber kept you on task.

Ok, so you did some things with bank and credit regulation, but nowhere near enough. The fact of the matter is that another recession is already simmering. We can say goodbye to the Clinton Years and balancing the deficit (which of itself wasn’t even that much of an accomplishment). We can hail back in the Reagan trickle-down economics bullcrap that was simply code for To the wealthy go the spoils and the hell with everybody else. Mr. Obama, I need for you to look at me in my eyes: Is this what you want for your legacy? Because I’ll tell you something, no statue has ever been erected to the man who did nothing.

I really REALLY don’t want to join the chorus of critics and nay-sayers who have constantly been hounding you in the last few months, but you are getting to be a very disappointing president. Maybe somewhere along the way we forgot that you are only a man with very limited powers, even for your position. Maybe we forgot that you inherited a disaster unbefitting every president except Roosevelt. Maybe we all expected too much from you. But are we wrong for this? After all, you ran your campaign under the banner of change and hope. Look sir, we (at least I) still believe in you, but if you don’t do something big--quick--that faith will simply continue to erode. Mr. President, don’t let me down!

To this day, the most famous biography of George W. Bush (and a great read, too!) is Jacob Weisberg’s The Bush Tragedy. It’d be a shame and misfortune if history chooses as your favorite biography something along the lines of The Obama Disaster. A damn shame.

Mr. President, shrug off your cobwebs and begin once more the great work of the people. History demands it. Remember: a revolution is due every generation. Ours is well past due.

Caught in the Act

Yesterday I was cited for a moving traffic violation for the first time in my life. I can’t complain. After all, it was completely merited: I was going the wrong way on a one-way street.

Let me make clear: I was very aware of what I was doing. My rationale for doing it was that it was only a quarter-block in an empty residential street and, surely, no one would notice. How wrong I was! Before seconds, an officer was trailing me with his lights flashing. I was caught in the act.

I should’ve known better. Wrong-way drivers annoy me and I’ve always found this particular behavior to be brash, dangerous and reckless. So the question then is, Why did I do it? My subconscious reasoning at that moment probably ran thus: I’ve never gotten ticketed before because I’m a very conservative driver. I hardly ever go past 35mph. It’s only a quarter-block on a deserted residential street. I think I get a pass this time. What my subconscious Voice of Reason should’ve told me was, You yourself deplore this behavior so don’t subject the members of this community to this same type of shenanigans. After all, that’s hypocrisy. And even worse, it’s plain recklessness.

My good friend Vic Conant highlights the personal flaws of Bill Clinton, Kobe Bryant and Martha Stewart in his audio CD series, This I Believe. These three individuals can be described as being morally upstanding; however, minor character flaws eventually blew up to become great public downfalls. It happened because, little by little, they began to make more immoral exceptions in their behavior that were ultimately doomed to catch up with them.

I commend the officer for the great job he did. I was a weasel and deserved my ticket. I have resolved, however, to tune in to my higher reasoning in the future--and to stray from hypocrisy. Character is built by the consistency of integruous behavior. And no matter how conservative a driver one is, one should never make reckless or illegal exceptions. But here’s the profound lesson in all this: No matter how upstanding one is in life, one should never make minor immoral exceptions. These can potentially pave the way for major moral injunctions. That’s what happened to Bill, Kobe and Martha.

Don’t let it happen to you.

Free Stuff

I’ve noticed over the last few months that I get something free from public establishments just about every day, whether they be restaurants, grocery stores, gas stations, retail stores, and you name it. I began wondering why this was so before I realized that the answer is actually quite simple: I’m a great customer!

Okay, so this might be a little bragging but hey, the proof is in the pudding. Generally when I walk into any establishment, I give everyone there my brightest and best smile, and radiate all my love to whoever’s job is to take care of me. Being in customer service myself, I know the mundane but real frustrations of this person. I know, for example, that the customer is not always right and that he or she very likely has to deal with their fair share of butt holes every day. You see, great, exceptional customer service begins with the customer. Many people forget that. Don’t get me wrong, however, as a manager I’ve had to master the art of dealing with tough customers both respectfully and diplomatically (and this is undoubtedly one of the best career skills I’ve gained), but it’s much easier to deal with a pleasant customer than a difficult one--and, more importantly, I can do more for a pleasant one than a tough one because the effort is natural, almost as natural as the air I breathe. Not only that, it just feels good.

The cashier might’ve made a mistake and overcharged me. So what? We’re all human and make honest mistakes; he or she is no exception. The sales associate may not know where my wanted item is located on the sales floor. Fine, I’ll find it myself and make a joy of looking for it, but thank you for all your help, sir.

I often (too often, as you can imagine) write letters and make phone calls to managers and corporate customer feedback departments recognizing the efforts of employees who go above and beyond to take care of me. I don’t look at it as time wasted but rather an investment in the development of a member of the professional workforce and, above all, a human being.

Somebody told me the other day, after sharing my free stuff stories with them, “Look, I’m not gonna be fake and pretend to be something I’m not.” My immediate, guttural response was, Fine, don’t get free stuff then. But I kept it to myself. Instead, I told him the truth: that deep inside, whether we realize it or not, we’re all generous. The generosity is always there; it’s simply looking for an outlet. And practicing generosity on members of the professional workforce is one way to harness this great intrinsic attribute.

Having a pleasing personality, as Napoleon Hill reminds us in Think and Grow Rich, is a skill that can take us very, very far--not simply the narrow avenues of getting free things. Look at how far it took Andrew Carnegie. This is not to understate other important attributes that we need for self-development; however, in many instances, being pleasant, generous and buoyant can be the best career move we make.

If you don’t know where to start, a warm smile is a good place.

Why We Shouldn't Celebrate Bin Laden's Death

The mastermind of 9/11, Osama bin Laden, a man who has personified evil for millions, is dead. History will note this day. The course of history, however, will not change. The progression of the human race shouldn’t change, either. Yes, he killed 2300 people. Yes, he killed untold hundreds before that. Yes, he funded terrorist causes around the globe. NO, we shouldn’t celebrate his death. No one’s death is a cause for celebration. This may seem irrational and even heartless, but when we kill someone we revert to a barbarism that is distant and even injurious to our higher nature. In short, we lessen ourselves, regress as a society, and suffocate our souls.

I was a staunch believer in the death penalty until a few months ago. One powerful little movie changed all of that: Dead Man Walking. The movie portrays a man who is indeed guilty of the crime, but highlights (very subtly, such that its true meaning is open to interpretation) the immorality and horror of vengeance. Maybe the death of my brother softened my stance on death, but there’s no denying that once a powerful idea takes root, nothing can stop it. I will never applaud a death again. Ghandi’s famous words, “An eye for an eye will make the world blind,” is as true now as its ever been. If all we take from it is nothing more than a cute bumper sticker, we are missing out on something wholly profound.

Bin Laden wasn’t a good man, but I will not celebrate his death. As much God flows in me as flowed in him. He, like Hitler and so many countless men of evil before him, lost his way somewhere along the path. There’s no justification for his actions, but there’s no justification for his death either.

What, then, should we have done with him? I don’t pretend to be a political scientist, but maybe Guantanamo Bay or some secret prison somewhere on the fringes of the world would’ve made a good home for him. And let’s not forget, that even before prison, he deserved his day in the Hague. Have we forgotten the values which we so proudly stand for?

There’s a powerful line from the Tao te Ching that says, “When you win a war, you celebrate by mourning.” I won’t go so far as to mourn Bin Laden’s death, but the relevance of the message applies to his death. We should mourn that what was at one point undoubtedly a beautiful soul somehow lost its way. Rather than shout and frolic shamelessly in the streets, we should hold silent vigil for the 2300 men and women who died on that fateful day, and for the spiritual perdition of a man.

What Can I Do?

Every day we turn on the TV, we are bombarded by the ills of the world: crime, war, poverty, hunger, natural distasters, and the list goes on endlessly. It is truly overwhelming. And many times, after this onslaught of negativity, we’re left with the question of, What can I do? How can I make a difference?
 Here’s a thought: you don’t have to donate money or start a charity to help the world’s cause. You can simply begin to care. This sounds almost too simple, but the impact that it can have on an ailing world is tremendous. It can literally save the world.

A thought of inspired love is more powerful than any amount of money in the world. It’s just that very few of us equate a thought with true change. A loving thought, I repeat, is electrifying.

You may ask, Isn’t this convenient and cheap? Never. You see, the ancestor of every action is a thought. With enough thoughts and enough love, you will eventually be moved into action--significant action--and possibly not even know it. This blog, which helps many of my friends and strangers alike cope with real life-issues, began as just a caring, loving, nourishing thought. Believe it or not, this world is a little better for it.

And this is in no way meant to be presumptuous. I would’ve just as well done it anonymously, except that my unique voice and experience add credence to my message. When Bob Dylan first exploded onto the 60s counter-culture scene, he was very careful to deflect personal questions about himself. The place inside him from which his music emerged had nothing to do with Bob Dylan the man. It was something deeper and more mystical. So is my message. You can remove the name and face, and it’ll still remain wholly transcendent and universal.

Love moves mountains and knocks down walls. When we genuinely care for people around the world, when we can watch the news with love and not judgment, we strengthen the chains of God’s love and gradually begin to erode the hatred and madness that vie for our attention. This applies to anything and anyone. When I see a homeless or physically disabled person, I quietly send a prayer his or her way. When I see a grove half-cut to pave the way for an overpass, I send a powerful vibe of love in its direction. These examples demonstrate an interesting but true variation on the phrase, Charity begins at home.

I personally try to avoid the news because I don’t need to know about all the horror that’s going on. Or, as Dylan himself sang, “You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.” Suffice it to say that a lot of messed-up stuff is going on. Watching the news can only blunt the buoyant optimism that is already your birthright. Stay positive at all costs. Don’t let the propaganda of fear victimize you. Be aware, but don’t be overwhelmed by the world’s ills. The best thing you can do from where you are is send your love and care.

Go With Your Heart

I was at Target earlier today. I actually go to Target just about every other day; it's like my personal Kwik-e-Mart, as a cashier once jokingly remarked to me. On this visit, I came to buy a pair of dress socks for work. Of the two pairs I ended up purchasing, one was $2.50 and the other was on clearance at a spectacular $1.75 (you know what they say, every penny counts!). The cashier commented on how nice they were, too bad the nicer pair wasn't on clearance. I appreciated her honest opinion, but expressed to her that in reality I thought that the pair on clearance was nicer. She smiled at my dissent. “You know,” she commented, “most everyone I’ve rung up has bought the other pair. You’re an anarchist. I like that!” I never knew that the purchase of a pair of socks would amount to my possible overthrow of government.

But she is right, I do go with my heart. Whether it’s a pair of socks or an important stance, I’ve never followed the crowd. For me, there’s no surer sign of demise than to follow the masses like, I hate to use this expression but it beckons me to use it, cattle to the slaughter. The life and health of our souls demand our individuality, so long as it doesn’t hurt or harm anyone.

One of my favorite bookmarks contains a quote from Confucius: “Whatever you do, do it with all your heart.” The heart, you see, is the only intrinsic barometer we have. The mind is only an impostor. The heart triumphs during the dark, rainy day.

Going with your heart doesn’t mean to shun the community, or close the door on your neighbor. In fact, the more you go with your heart, the wider your arms will open to those around you, and the deeper you will tap into your communal, tribal self. At heart, we’re all tribal creatures. We all seek one another’s approval, love and support.

This may seem like a paradox, but it’s not. When Martin Luther decided to renounce the monastery and nail the 95 Theses on the door of the All Saints’ Church, he was not only defying a corrupt papacy but also hoisting up millions of Christians around the world. And all it took was one man going with his heart.

Try it today. Choose something, no matter how little it is, and just go with your heart. Do it more and more. Make it automatic. Your heart may go with the crowd on most things, but inevitably something will come up for which your heart will run contrary to the masses. Hold still. Stay firm. Lift up your head. And go with your heart.

Outside In

Earlier this morning, I had one of the more fruitful conversations in quite some time. A middle-aged couple came into my store. It’s always a custom of mine to make conversation with my customers, especially early in the morning when hardly anyone comes in, in order to establish rapport, even if the conversation is not, let us say, product-related. This is simple Customer Service 101. As it turns out, they needed me more than I needed their conversation.

They spoke in broken English as they described to me what particular pair of shoes they were looking for. I immediately made it clear that we didn’t sell that particular model. Having worked at both a retail and an outlet, I immediately recognized that shoe as a retail-only product. I gave them the address of the nearest retail store and even took the trouble to look it up on my phone’s GPS to make sure they didn’t get lost, as I’d already established that they were Latin American tourists (they only spoke español among each other). Up to this point, I hadn’t spoken a word of Spanish. I like to surprise people like that.

Finally, I broke my Spanish silence. I told them my computer would actually tell me if that particular store had that shoe or not (I think I was so engrossed in giving them directions that I’d completely forgotten that I had this option, and could thus save them a long trek). They were delighted and a little surprised at the fact that I spoke Spanish, and excellent Spanish at that. They didn’t hesitate in asking me where I was from, and the husband guessed before I could even open my mouth. “Puerto Rico!” he yelped. He was actually half-right: I’m Puerto Rican and Dominican. But I simply acquiesced to being Puerto Rican--his boisterous guess was so full of energy that I just didn’t want to disappoint this man.

I then asked them where they were from. In fact, I’d been quietly wondering about this the whole time they were there. When they answered Venezuela, I did something almost reflexively that personal experience has taught me never to do (yet somehow I still inevitably do): I uttered the first thing that came to mind--in this case, President Hugo Chavez. They laughed a hearty laugh and said something, very half-assedly, to the effect of, “Oh yeah!” But ignorant as I sometimes can be, I continued (something I’m leaving out is that I’d just seen a movie touting the goodness of Chavez the night before). “Yeah, he’s such a good president. Finally, you guys have a leader that doesn’t bow down to the American empire, who nobly serves the interests of the population, and shares the petroleum wealth with those who most need it!” I was so impassioned that even my fellow associate stole a glance at me that seemed to say, What is up with this boy?

I could tell right away that this did not still well with them. A vacuum sucked all the life out of the room. The man spoke, not with anger but with a tenacity unlike any I’ve ever seen before. He told me of all the horrors that Chavez had wreaks on the population; of his exploitation of petroleum to aid his cronies, such as the Cubans and friends in Bolivia; he told me that Chavez's nationalized television network alone rules the airwaves. He spoke for about five minutes unabatedly while his wife nodded to literally every point he made. This was a man on a mission. Not only that, you could see that he’d been waiting to get this off his chest for a long time. And he didn’t hide it, either. He said that he wouldn’t be able to say what he was saying now back home. He’d be imprisoned.

But as I scrutinized his arguments I quickly realized that he was essentially indifferent to the plight of the poor masses that lived in the barrios and that would likely never see anything except Venezuela. I noticed, too, that he was dressed in more or less Western, trendy attire, as well as his wife. And, beyond all else, I noticed that they happened to be at my store!, which is considered more or less an upscale shoe boutique, even as an outlet. In short, I realized that I was preaching to the wrong crowd. They were not members of the voiceless, Venezuelan masses, these were products of the affluent middle class--those who hate Hugo Chavez for plundering their wealth in order to distribute it among the poor, a sort of presidential Robin Hood. I’m neither condemning nor condoning this. It’s too hard to take this kind of stance when one looks from the outside in. And I was wrong by being blindly misled by a documentary which almost certainly contains an ulterior agenda.

As I said, this man didn’t speak from anger. He was actually very cordial. He simply spoke from a deep sense of passion that obviously stirred him; he spoke from his heart. He spoke from the only thing he knew. He spoke to me as if I was his fellow brother. He simply wanted me to understand. I put myself in his shoes. If I were to live in Venezuela, knowing English and having a Bachelor’s degree, I’d likely be a member of the middle class as well. I’d likely have a white collar job. Can I blame this man?

But here’s perhaps the crucial distinction (and again, I don’t claim to be holier than anyone, as I can only speak for myself): I’d never ever let socioeconomic status get in the way of my charity and my equal love to all.

We said goodbye to each other with a firm, brotherly hug.

A Case of Beer

Just now, something quite remarkable happened. After my daily workout with my friend Jose, we stopped at the gas station real quickly to get my daily bag of Doritos (what can I say, old habits die hard). As I stepped out of my car, I saw one of my neighbors leaving the gas station. He had a look on his face of utter despair. He looked at me but didn’t seem to recognize me, as there was no emotion registered in his face and he simply looked away. “Don’t you recognize me?” I called out to him in Spanish. This time around, he did--but he didn’t smile. He came up to me and got very close, to the point that I felt his breath on my face like a gust of wind. He told me that his mother had just passed away that day and that he needed a case of beer, just for today, to get through the trauma--or at least cope with it what he could.

I was immediately on two separate guards. The first was that his mother’s death resonated deeply with me, as my dear brother Dave passed away just under a year ago. The second was that I didn’t want to help him by buying him a case of beer; after all, this isn’t help at all but simply an insult to the injury. And I explained that to him. But he insisted. And he was very tenacious. The tears rolled down his eyes as he explained to me how sick with grief he was. He told me he needed the money because he’d simply forgotten his wallet at home and didn’t want to make the long trek back only to have to return again. I knew it wasn’t a money issue; he is, after all, a homeowner (and an impressive one, at that) and owns two vehicles; more importantly, he is well-respected within the community. He pleaded with me from the deepest wells of his heart.

I was here, too. When Dave died, I found solace in the bottle. I drowned my grief in beer. But with the help of God, family, friends and mostly myself, I broke out of it and made a conscious decision to stop drinking--forever. I’ve now been clean for eight months (the longest in my life by far), and I’m glad to say that I don’t even crave alcohol anymore. Alcohol is simply no longer a part of my existence. The way I see it is, I don’t know about ten years from now, but I know that I won’t have a drink today. That’s how you conquer all demons: one day at a time. This affirmation has revolutionized my life.

Finally, I succumbed to his pleas. I bought him a case of beer. I don’t feel good about this, but I don’t feel bad either. The simplest way of describing how I feel is: I understand. But I also understand another thing: I didn’t help him at all. Alcohol will never help him. The best thing that can help him is him. He needs to harness that strength within and re-establish his divinity. I gave him my number and told him to call me. The help this time around won’t be alcohol, it’ll be words of love, sympathy and compassion.

I have kept his name anonymous because I do not want to tarnish this good man’s name; and because, after all, that wasn’t him. He is a beautiful soul in a time of hardship.

I hope he gets better. I know he will. And he can count on me for anything.

Except alcohol, of course.