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Welcome students and colleagues, friends and family, if you have made it this far, I encourage you to stay a bit longer and read about some of my work. The writings reflect many of the thoughts that I carry with me throughout the course of a day, evening, and often times, the dreams that take hold of me while I sleep. The verses represent the inner voice in me that speaks of the past, the present, and the future. Writing is my ultimate form of expression that allows me to reflect, inspire, get well, and grow. The energy that feeds my work, I pull from themes that correspond to Mesoamerica, my ancestral place of birth, and the area I study. References to symbols of the past, deities, and natural phenomenon, dominate certain pieces, and blend with current verses of life, love, and death. I have never taken a writing class... the only "style" that exhibits my work is the one that I create from my imagination, heart, and dreams.

I’m an avid builder and horticulturalist, and so I spend a lot of my time building things and growing different types of herbs and plant food. I do not identify as an artist nor do I make art for aesthetic purposes; my work solely materializes a ritual-ceremonial or utilitarian function. The craft of working with wood I learned from my father, by watching him design and build homes throughout much of my adolescent youth. I also learned how to work with stone by watching my uncles construct brick and rock landscapes, in the wealthy neighborhoods were they labored during much of the 1980s, when construction was booming. My paternal grandpa Juan was also a craftsman, hence why all his sons became builders of some sort, and so building has always been an integral part of my family’s trade history. I learned about plant cultivation from my abuelita Mercedes on my paternal side and my abuelito Severo on my maternal side. Much of the landscaping strategies that I learned from my grandparents came with them from Mexico when they migrated to Alta California, in the early 1960s, along with my parents. A lot of the building and planting strategies that my family has implored have been in use for over 3,000 years. It is my purpose to revitalize and sustain these ancestral practices through ceremony, household building, and plant cultivation.

My fascination with building and growing food is not only familial, but also physical-skeletal (see my Physical Anthropology 101 blog), and because so, I have an admiration for the morphology of the human hand. The hand is unlike any part of the body, and because we use our hands every day, we literally take them for granted, sometimes failing to notice their full potential use. Our hands are our first weapons of choice in an attack, yet they are the first part of the body that we extend when helping or consoling someone. With our hands, we build shelter, writer letters, prepare food, and unknowingly, make love. Our hand-digit coordination is unique because it is precise, well adapted for creating, and for using and making tools. Hand-digit use coordination has been a part of our human evolutionary past since we inhabited arboreal environments, way before we developed bipedalism. When combined with tool use, the creative use of the hands has the capability of decolonizing our minds and bodies.

My inquiry into the relationship between hand-bone morphology usage and social behavior remains in the early stages. Nonetheless, some preliminary findings I modeled in a recent paper where I discuss the role of the hands, and early human tool making, in the creation of spatial wellness. The paper is published in Vol. 3 No. 4 of the International Journal of Development and Sustainability.


The gods were good to

The gods were good to me all summer.
This is my grace period, my time to reflect…
If I step outside I would be asking for
too much. I have much to ponder, so that’s how
I spend my days. If you take my hand I
could show you how to ease time, how to reclaim
the body. I don’t want you to erase the pain,
but to learn to live with it. That’s
transformation… spirituality
and longevity.

............

You allow me nothing to hold
on too… nothing to see or feel, nothing to
cherish after a sunrise, nothing to cherish
after a sunset. Nothing to prance around
when the trumpets blow. Nothing to
sing too… nothing to know…

How can you keep me away,
from what I desire the most. How can I
see the beauty in you, if you are not a part
of my seasons… How can I reflect on
your touch, if you are not
here to hold…

I can not miss what I have no
recollection of, or speak to what does not
speak back. I can not live in the shadows
of your love, if all I am is light. How
can I love, what I can
not be with…

What lies and deceives.
Weaknesses… are destroying our love.

............

Give all you have to become privileged,
be creative, be opportunistic…
Be strong, don’t complain… cry for only
a few… laugh and smile all day.

If you can read and write, teach! If you
like someone make them smile,
if someone hurts you, help them… Pump
your fist and scream, life is a fight,
but only with yourself. The older you become
the wiser you get… and the younger
you live.

Children make the world go round,
plan your life around them and only them.
Sing and dance, explore! Make your
midnight dreams a reality, if you miss someone
tell them, and never doubt yourself.

Pain and happiness are one, I know…
Cater to yourself, its okay to pretend and to be
silly but always be real. Admire the
heavens, absorb the elements, the wind!

Have not one, but many faiths…
This will bring you lots of friends. People
that you will need. Friends forever…

Give thanks for your life and also death,
both are love. Never abandon the
sick, hold the hand of the weak...
God will see this.

If you love someone… devote
your life to them.
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