“… all ___ are created equal…”

For the past few days there’s been intense media coverage regarding the Vanity Fair cover. This made me feel really hesitant about writing this blog post. The last thing I want to do is come across as judgmental, inconsiderate, or narrow-minded. I’m not trying to write this as an opinion post, although some stuff may slip through.

That being said….

People are unsure of which pronoun they should use when referring to Jenner. Those from one end of the spectrum are screaming “FEMALE“, while there is another outcry of voices proclaiming “MALE“. There is speculation as to whether or not Jenner obtained “THE surgery”. In reality, this is none of our business. Jenner has taking steps, which include various surgical procedures, in the transition journey. Jenner identifies as female. However, genetically, Jenner will always be male. This may be difficult for individuals of either party of opinions to accept, but that’s the truth.

If you’re uncomfortable, or unsure with which gender pronoun to use, here are a few tips: when speaking of/with a trans-woman (male -> female), she/her/herself are appropriate, and when speaking of/with a trans-man (female -> male), he/his/himself are appropriate. If, for whatever reason, you prefer a more neutral approach, you could consider some other options, such as: using the pronoun they/their/themselves, or using the individuals last name in place of a pronoun. For the purposes of this post, I chose the latter.

I chose it for a few reasons. First off, I don’t want this to be solely an opinion post on the Jenner transition, especially because I am not here to judge. Secondly, I don’t want to contribute to an ongoing argument. Last but not least, I just didn’t want to look at it from the same angle as every other person who’s opinion I’ve heard or read.

I chose the title with that last thought in mind….

“We hold these truth to be self-evident. That all ___ are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Regardless of how you identify yourself, or to which group/orientation/ethnicity/etc., we are all created equal. At a base-line level, we’re all people with a soul, mind, and body. That cheesy saying that “there is more that unites us than divides us”, is actually kinda true. It is also important to remember those centuries-old words from the “Good Book”: “Judge not, lest ye also be judged.” The important thing is to remember that everyone wants to be loved and accepted. You may or may not agree with someone, or what they do, but loving them doesn’t mean you have to agree with them….

My personal opinion on the matter is as follows….

I don’t know what it’s like to identify as part of the LGBTQ community. I don’t know what it feels like to feel that you are attracted to the same gender/sex, feel that you were born in the “wrong” body, or that you don’t know how you identify. Coming at it from that angle, I am perhaps the least qualified.

However, I do have friends that identify as part of that community. I’ve learned that I don’t have to understand them in order to love them. They don’t want to be treated as “defects”, but just as a “regular person”. The way they live their life is between them and God, and the same goes for “straight people”. They tell me when it’s my business, it is not I who choose to force myself into their life.

So, with that being said, just be careful with the choices you make….

Bon Voyage!

P.S. I’m a Christian

“… the land of the free…”

The Room with a View

“We cast a shadow on something wherever we stand,…. Choose a place where you won’t do harm – yes, choose a place where you won’t do very much harm, and stand in it for all you are worth, facing the sunshine.”

~ E. M. Forster, A Room with a View

Human beings are generally unaware of their impact on the world around them. Yes, we know that we affect the environment, but we don’t realize how deeply we influence those around us. It’s more than just a conscious exertion of our beings. In reality, the world is very different, simply because you exist.

This idea came to mind a few weeks ago, when I received an e-mail from school. The English Dept. notified it’s army of students that a most beloved professor would no longer be with us. Dr. Philip Marcus, a cherished faculty member, had passed away.

Students saw him as an absolute gem. Whenever someone mentioned his name, someone would always chime in with “He’s the best!”, “You HAVE to take his class!”, or “He’s incredible!”, to name a few. I ran into him a couple of times, and would see him sitting in the B&N cafe during his coffee hours. There was always a peace surrounding that sweet old man, who always wore black and white, and those pink pair of Nike’s. You could always find him in a crowd….

Could the same be said of you?…. What does you life speak to others?….

Are you peaceful, or argumentative? Humble, or proud? Do people feel helped, or hindered by you? Is your tendency to be greedy, or giving? Do you lie, or do you love? This post isn’t meant to be about where we go when we die, though perhaps you should think about that. However, where will the memory of you take people’s thoughts? Even if no one remembers who you are, you still influence people.That is the choice we can make today. We can choose how we share ourselves with the world….

Students were invited to go by Dr. Marcus’ office and select any one of the books from his personal library. I went by the front desk, and they assured me it was more than alright for me to take a peak. What I saw was, in some small, humble way, a room with a view….

His books were on a shelf that covered the northern wall, while the window faced east. There wasn’t much left but a few volumes, and an empty seat. But rather than feel vacant, it felt peaceful. Perhaps that is what he’ll be remembered for most: a peaceful spirit…. The remnants were but a shadow of the image of the man that taught so many so much….

“… there are shadows because there are hills.”

~ E. M. Forster, A Room with a View

I Am Human

“A Psalm of Life”

What The Heart Of The Young Man Said To The Psalmist

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

   Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

   And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

   And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest,

   Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

   Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow

   Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

   And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

   Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,

   In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

   Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!

   Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act,— act in the living Present!

   Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

   We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

   Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

   Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

   Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,

   With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

   Learn to labor and to wait.

~ by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Small Beginnings…

“Do not despise these small beginnings,…”

~ Zechariah 4:10a

~~~

I know that sometimes people get really touchy with their spiritual/religious beliefs around this time of year. Sometimes we try so hard not to offend each other, or impose our beliefs on one another. Regardless of what faith (or not) you follow, I think that the quote above is one of the main points of the Christmas season.

When we think of greatness, we envision elegance, status, power, fame, wealth, etc. Images of grandeur, or “pomp and circumstance”, sail through our mind’s eye. But when we look at some of the most epic human beings to have ever walked the surface of this rock in the Milky Way, we may see small beginnings. Many of these people looked like just another face in the crowd; perhaps more ordinary than extraordinary.

Take Moses, for example. The man was 80 when he successfully spearheaded the exodus of millions of people, and guided them for 40 yrs. Btw, he had a speech problem. Go figure! Oh, and Ghandi wasn’t too great in school. He was a mediocre student, struggled regularly, and was all together pretty average; he struggle with his college entrance exams. But he too changed the face of a nation, and the world. And let’s not forget Einstein! He also had trouble with his entrance exams: he failed to meet the general requirements….

Joan of Arc was a farmer’s daughter, but she helped lead a country. Marie Curie worked to support her sister through school, and continued to educate herself while she worked to obtain funds for her own education. During her time in Paris, she suffered cold winters, and, on more than one occasion, fainted from hunger. She worked all through her studies. Florence Nightingale was also self-taught, and rejected the expected role for women of her time. Because of her, nursing became a respectable profession, and she forever changed modern medicine….

Sometimes greatness is a small babe, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger…. or in the gentle hum of his mother’s voice as she lulls him to sleep. Greatness is found in the small things. Greatness is born of small beginnings. This gives me hope, and faith. It shows me that love and humility is enough to achieve the impossible….

I mean, hey, if a baby in a manger can alter the course of humanity, then anything’s possible….

~~~

“Do not be afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them.”

Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, Act II, Scene 4

Bon Voyage!

Where is home?

My Miracle Mile

miracle mile

noun

1. an extended area of fashionable or expensive shops, restaurants, etc., usually along an urban or suburban thoroughfare.

If you’re a Miami native, you’re probably familiar with this name. Most of us Miamians identify this area as the more “posh” side of town. With it’s trendy atmosphere, modern vibe, fast-paced style, it’s the place to “see and be seen”, you might say.

When people imagine Miami, they tend to think “South Beach”, “Coco Walk”, “Coral Gables”, or that far off, exotic paradise called “The Keys”. When I travel, and people ask me where I’m from, I can see the gleam of curiosity as they attack me with a barrage of questions: What’s it like? Have you met anyone famous? What does everyone wear? Do you have a house on the beach? People seem to assume certain things about my address. But the world-famous night clubs, the white, sandy beaches, and glamorous shops are only a small piece in the mosaic that is my hometown.

For me, Miami is where the ancient meets the modern; where north, south, east, and west intersect and reconnect; where the sky is one with the earth just before every sunrise, and kisses the heavens as it illuminates the awakening sky. Most of us here are either from another place, time, and/or country. The youth are comprised mostly of first generation Americans. When I look around my city, I think of what it must’ve been like when the pilgrims landed: strangers in a strange land, but daring to make it their own. In Miami, foreigners find a home. For me, my neighborhood is a vivid reminder of this beautiful phenomenon.

My corner of the city may be a far cry from the glamor shots people see on TV and magazines, but I like to think of this stretch of land as my “miracle mile”. Some characteristics seem almost poetic, while others are possessed with a harsh sadness. One part keeps me hopeful; the other part keeps me humble….

At night, from my bed I can hear cars speeding by my window. Their engines roaring; breaks screaming. In the early morning hours and old man speeds by on his modified bicycle: a motor fashioned to the end propels him through the streets towards his destination. Sometimes, police officers pull over for a while, their lights shining red, white, and blue. Their presence making me fearful, yet secure. I fall asleep to the rhythm of their car lights flashing through my window. On quieter nights, I can hear people ordering food at Checkers a few blocks away, right on US1. This serves as a constant reminder that the city never sleeps….

A block away, there’s a corner store that’s always open. A year or so ago, a man was killed in front of his wife and kids. The neighbors chanted their protests night and day, or silently held signs as people drove by. My brother said it reminded him of all those pictures we see of the civil rights era. Men, women, and children held signs for months. Thing is, fifty years ago, they perhaps may not have had the freedom to do that….

When I buy gas, I pass by the dozens of auto-shops that line the streets. The men yell at each other in a foreign language most white people don’t even bother to learn. Like blacksmiths hammering at an anvil, their laugh, and the sounds of cutting steel and power-tools echo off the walls of their shops. They have a humble but important trade….

Near my house there is also a Hindu temple. Some nights I fall asleep to the chants the wind carries to my bedroom window. I don’t understand what is being sung, but I can feel the beauty in every melody. Sometimes there are drums; sometimes, only voices. On such nights, I lay listening for hours. Always, the morning after, people gather again to sing and share a meal. The culture is so foreign, yet not completely different from my own….

Further down the street, there is a small mosque; right next to it, there is a black Baptist church. On religious days, both groups observe the traditions of their faith. Both places of worship are filled. These groups function independently of each other, but are acutely aware of the others’ existence and faith. They sing in different tongues, rising like a chorus to the sky….

In the distance, there’s a Coast Guard base. The driveway navigates through an open field, leading to a building, but the majority of the property is enclosed by light woods. The jeeps are kept nearby, but in another field. The are lined-up like silent soldiers, guarding the terrain. Sentinels, they stand at attention. Here, and abroad, they guard our freedom….

To me, this miracle mile of mine is a constant reminder of the spectacular nature of life. It calls to the passerby, beseeching them to regard the noteworthy miracles of life that are constantly overlooked. Little miracles may be floating around us, calling to our attention. I try grab them, and place them in my pocket. They follow me as I journey across countless other miracle miles….

Whether I’m in Spain, walking the streets of Madrid, or the beaches of Galicia, or in Hawaii, driving past pineapple fields, swimming on Pipeline beach, gazing at the landscape in the mountains from Pali Lookout, or breathing in the beauty of a sunset on Waikiki Beach, I have a piece of home. The nomad in me yearns to explore and discover, but it cries for home.

Perhaps this is how the Israelites felt as the traversed through barren lands. Perhaps they knew where they were going, but they didn’t know the path they would take to reach their destination. No matter where they went, they knew where they came from, and they had purpose. Nothing stopped them from moving.

So, wherever you go, however far away your journey takes you, never lose purpose. Learn from your “miracle mile”, and take it with you as you discover others. Life’s too short to ignore. My home has taught me to not be afraid to take the chance on noticing the small things. If we ignore them, we ignore the stitches in the fabric of the tapestry of our lives.

This is my miracle mile….

What’s yours?

Bon Voyage!

What’s in a name?

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.“

Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II, Lines 46-47

At first, the name “barefootnomad” may strike you as a bit odd. Perhaps you think of an old man, traveling through the Sahara, lost and alone. Some of you may picture a lonely old woman, humbly going about her business on the busy streets of Calcutta. Most of us would imagine an isolated existence along the outskirts of society and civilization.

Sometimes we unknowingly isolate ourselves from the world around us. It’s easy to be consumed with gaining what you think you want, rather seeking than what you really need. As a result of this disconnect, we lose ourselves, and wander about aimlessly amongst in the horde of like-minded travelers. We look, but do not see; we touch, but do not feel. This is exactly what inspired me to choose this name.

The the idea behind “barefootnomad” is that we need to connect with others, but not lose ourselves; we must be free to be curious, but not wander from our roots. When we are barefoot, there is an increased sensitivity. You suddenly feel everything more acutely, and are more cautious. You know when the ground beneath you is secure, soft or hard, wet or dry, dusty or clean, and hot or cold. We can approach life much the same way, regardless of where it takes us. As we wander, we shouldn’t fear to wonder.

We all experience life in a unique and personal way. Though social creatures, we all have a singular existence independent of each other. We are not alone, but we are alone. This, however, shouldn’t frighten us! Fear, insecurity, depression, or any other negativity shouldn’t keep you from becoming a better person and becoming a mature individual who knows themselves.

With that in mind, this blog may have some random, and some not-so-random posts. It’ll be honest, and maybe a bit uncomfortable for some. But it’ll be me and my unedited, “barefoot” experiences. So, with that said…

Bon Voyage!