How old are you today?

Today is a very special morning. I am writing this post from my bedroom at my parent’s home in Mexico . . . Yes, I still have my own bedroom here! Waking up in the same bedroom that I did when I was a child is helping me to reflect on my real age. Few weeks ago I heard from my teacher Ann Gila that we, humans beings, are like a tree that has rings on its base announcing how old it is. Trees have the rings exposed; they have all the ages at the same time and of course, they do not play games hiding their age. I am positive that I announce my age at every moment whether I want it or not.

Back in the USA I am an adult I swear! However, for good or for bad, I have the emotional flexibility to expose different ages like a tree. For instance, I can fight like a ten year-old girl or behave like an abandoned six for not apparent reason when I am with my partner. Believe me, at those moments it is not that fun for him to witness this flexibility. The good part is that I can also be fifteen and dance at the rhythm of Shakira’s concert in my bedroom or complain with not shame about my back pain like an old lady. I still remember, few months ago when I cried like a kindergarten student in the school bathroom because I misunderstood the teacher instructions and brought different homework. Although, I wish I could conduct myself like a mature and spiritually grown adult at every moment in every single situation I don’t. At least, I would feel good about the huge amount of hours I spend in therapy or, -even worse- giving therapy myself. The reality is that I did not figure out how to be “a mature adult” at every situation yet.

Well, if life gives you lemons . . . I do not know about you, but besides doing boring lemonade, I found my way to have fun with them. Thus, now that I am willing to accept that I am age-ly flexible I’ll use it to my advantage in this trip to Mexico. I will jump deliberately from one age to another in the same day.  It isn’t that fun? For example, I could be six and hug my Dad or laugh with him. I could be a toddler and take a nap on my Mom’s bed. I would be an irresponsible teenager in my sister’s bedroom and spend hours watching TV. I could be a five and play with my little nieces and nephews. Of course, like many other families we have our problems and old arguments, but the advantage of me in living in another country is that both, my family and me are really happy to see each other.  Now, if I want that the money and time spend in therapy pay off, I also could make my life easier and try to guess how old each family member is at every situation, don’t you think?

I wish you the wisdom of the elders with the playfulness of children, and until the nest post . . . keep jumping!

Carmen

Bienvenid@s a mi casa virtual!

Si quieres tomar un cafe virtual con Carmen en español, visita el canal de videos "cafecitovirtual" en youtube:

http://www.youtube.com/user/cafecitovirtual

Que lo disfrutes!

How do I know I am not dead?

This past Tuesday (November 2nd) was the "Day of the Dead" in Mexican culture. This is still one of my favorite days to celebrate. I remember during my childhood days when my parents took my siblings and I to the cemetery to visit our grandmothers' tomb. On November 2^nd, Mexican cemeteries look like a big festival with families, yellow flowers, and a lot of sweet stuff to eat. Besides a few tears and prayers, they were happy family gatherings full of a celebration of life, with jokes, songs, poems, and memories. According to my Mexican traditions, adversity and death is something to embrace and an opportunity to be grateful for what we still have. We joke about being dead and have fun imagining how this world would be without our talents and rich presence. In the traditional poems named “Calaveras,” dedicated to those who are still alive, we let them to know how much we appreciate their presence in our lives.

 Now, with no family, yellow flowers, or even tombs of my love ones near by, it was inevitable for me to look for new ways to celebrate death. I still was able to get the traditional bread in the store, make an altar for my school and joke about death with my best friend Maria Elena.

During the evening I hosted a family gathering (just I and myself) to reflect about my own life and how I am using the inherited wisdom from my ancestors.

I reflected about how many Carmens are dead now. For instance, I know that there was a Carmen who used to be naïve about sex and romantic relationships, a Carmen who used to dance while driving with loud music, a Carmen who used to sing aloud while cleaning home on Saturdays, a Carmen who used to believe everything the boyfriend said, a Carmen who used to believe in Christmas magic and Santa Claus as a child, a Carmen who used to cry every time she had a class presentation, a Carmen who hated rich people just because, a Carmen who angrily protested in the streets against war, government or any other social injustice, a Carmen who used to hate Sundays, a Carmen who was happily unaware of the impact of her powerful fire and burned so many people around, etc.

All of those Carmens are dead now. They enriched my life and made me who I am. I am glad that most of them are gone but I still miss and cry for some others. The point is how I can be alive and enjoy the Carmens I have and I wish not to have. How I can love and make peace with the part of me that still believes in marriage, wants to fall in love, wants to travel around the world, or cries for company. I know that if I do not listen to those parts and understand their needs they are in danger of dying with painful results. Moreover, how do I know what parts of me are alive and waiting for me to recognize them?

Anyhow, this family gathering was a successful new way of celebrating death and life. However, next time I would eat less bread . . . Maybe.

Happy Day of the Dead! And be sure you are fully alive . . . until the next post.