lucila soto

It has been said -and it’s even possible- that ever since childhood I’ve been stubborn. Not out of miseducation, ill-manners nor a need to prove myself the wiser. It was more a sense of freewill, of having a mind and body of my own, freedom and the absolute thirst to challenge every single conclusion I arrived to, every ideology I conjured up.

Yes, I had to prove myself for my own sake.

That is, to live a life that was up to my own standards and ideas because living any other way would be, well, incongruent. You lead this kind of life because, well, because that’s the thing you do; it’s a character trait, this thinking and acting coherently.

Time and time again this kind of self exigence has proven to be just the right fuel to propel change and personal growth. The perfect tool to keep me hungry of thought and acquiring knowledge through praxis. The fire to kindle the need of learning by research and action, to keep eyes wide open and take responsibility not only for myself and my actions, but in some sense, for my species  the never ending upgrading of my former version. Change as a modus operandi can only mean self improvement, never a step backwards -although in some cases a brisk sidestep might be appropriate and even beneficial.  

The sense of satisfaction, fierté and reassurance of being proven right -to yourself because that’s the opinion that counts, right?- is one of the most pleasurable feelings one gets to experience. It has a high price that is either naturally worthy or best made it be. It comes form hard work, strong will, perseverance, patience – lots of-  and a general sense of the consequences you’ll go face-first to.

This time, I’ve proven myself right again. I’ve found a place that sits well with me, that lets me be as proactive as I want to be. A place I no longer feel misfit, where I don’t need to swim against the current all the time. A land I can call my own; I finally reached Home.

Yes, I am proud. A proud Canadian.

She was my friend, my teacher and my small one. She came into my life to propel change, dialogue, understanding and -without a doubt- to make me a better person. She taught me the importance of respect, confrontation and resolution, and the surprising power of acceptance.
She was an active fighter for dog and animal rights, a rescuer of stray dogs. In this sense her legacy survived her brief passing through this world: she changed ways of thought, points of view and while preaching by example influenced all those lucky enough to know her.

A month has gone by without her. The pain of her loss has been so significant it took me all this time to be able to gather the kind of serenity needed to articulate -poorly- in this entry her importance, her gigantic value. She made days extraordinary and adventurous effortlessly; today it is I who has to constantly challenge myself in order to keep the flavour of life flowing untarnished.

I am forever grateful for every aspect of myself she reached, changed and influenced; she was -undoubtedly- a wonderful being. The one who showed me how to look at the world with eyes wide open and an inquisitive mind; the one who eroded every prejudice still standing within me.
Her lessons on courage, integrity, respect, elegance, modesty and truthfulness -even in the harshest of circumstances- will be forever cherished and emulated.

A word to you Tallulah, in hopes its echo will somehow reach you: Chapeau my dearest one for a life filled with significance, for a life well lived! Today I stand a better, more complex being and it is all because of you.

We cry our shame
Of acting logically
Of heartbreak
Of impotence

We cry our shame
Of being responsible
Of making sure every day
hour and waking moment
matters

We cry our shame
Because we believe
we’re being generous
good
We believe we’re
doing the right thing
the only thing

Because We-are-being-of-help

Amazing body art taken from @blacktattooing IG gallery

That’s why we cry
In shame
In despair
In pain

Because inside
the unspeakable words
roar like thunder
We could’ve done more
We could’ve been nicer
We could’ve been more caring

Good enough is never enough
More than enough is never
Good enough

But time is past that

And now
We cry in shame

Amazing body art taken from @blacktattooing IG gallery.

Vegetarianism, year one.

It’s not about what you think, nor about what you say. What defines you are your actions. Consciousness and belief can only be expressed by fact and act. In the end, your daily comings and goings are what determine who you are.
One year ago I decided to become a vegetarian; the reasons behind it are ethical and against cruelty. But I truly believe it also was a coherent and logical step that can be traced back 9 years ago, to that cheerful February when Tallulah came into my life.

After her -because of her- I started noticing for real the strays roaming the streets. She then began rescuing dogs, leaving me no choice but to take action. Vida de Perros (an online blog centred on creating conscience on dog care, rescue efforts and adoption practice) was then born, and I became involved with associations, rescue refugees and independent rescuers; even becoming hands on along the way.

Awareness became a daily practice and after a while it permeated mostly every aspect of my actions. Then, last year the next logical step came. A personal, individual, self-conscious and über-thought decision: I became a vegetarian for good.

Was it difficult? By no means! It has been enlightening, a never-ending source of new knowledge, ultra satisfactory and tons of fun. For this, of course you have to be an open thinker, have a real thirst for experimenting and an innate interest in learning. Research is the main key behind every successful story about change and when a change of lifestyle is the subject matter, believe me, the more research you do, the better.

Today I eat food with names such as tempeh, seitan, kale, agar agar, tamari, baba ghanoush, romanesco and the sort. The newly added flavours are Indian, Korean, Japanese, Arabic, Chinese; from Thailand and Peru. My palate exploding with the magnificent tones and hues of spices and melting down with delicate aromas and tastes like sweet almond, coconut, cardamom and Turkish delight.

Today I feel nourished for the first time. Each meal nutrients making goodness for my body, mind and soul. My taste buds are awaken, they appreciate better each and every morsel. My body does too: my skin and hair feel better than ever. Today I find more than appropriate the French term for food: “nourriture” which means to nourish: indeed it does, mind, body and soul. Each bite only goodness; no suffering, no harm done.

A new code of beliefs and practices modified my former self into a holistic one; being a vegetarian is not only about not eating meat. The real change comes when seeing your surroundings not as “I” but as “We”, not anthropocentric but ecocentric. And furthermore, understanding whole processes, their interactions and consequences. In one word: consciousness, or its synonym in this context, awareness.

And there lies the quid of it: nothing can make you more good than acting coherently. The feeling of having achieved change for the better, for good, is the very best feeling around. Cheers then for the very first year of being vegetarian, cheers to change and improvement, cheers to a new milestone!

_•_
Be part of the solution, never part of the problem.
If you’re what you eat, then become goodness.

• All Images from amazing Pierre Huyghe’s art: Untilled (Liegender Frauenakt), 2012; Zoodram 5 (after ‘Sleeping Muse’ by Constantin Brancusi), 2011; Human, 2012.

Le parole non possono trovarti più. È strano perché tra noi il mondo diventava parole, messaggi, fotografie; a volte un messaggio di voce oppure un video, ma sempre, ogni episodio nella vita si tramutava in data trasmessa nel etere dell’Internet. La distanzia tra noi dispariva e la nostra vicinanza si faceva una realtà più vera e significativa, in grado che spesso noi trovavamo nel stesso track of mind.

Fosti il mio amico, il mio confidente. Il mio tutore d’Italiano, di corsa, e il mio professore da vita. Cercaste farmi crescere, aiutarmi a maturare e diventare una migliore persona. Sò bene che fosti una influenza decisiva nella mia formazione. La donna che oggi mi guarda nel specchio è anche una parte di te.

Oggi il buco che lascia la mancanza della tua presenzia è immenso. La realtà di sapere che non possono esistere più messaggi, più parole tra noi mi fa sentire alla deriva. La tristezza vuole mi prendere con forza ma sò bene che giustamente questo è qualcosa che tu non avrei mai volto, allora mi resisto.

Alla fine io so che tu sai che io so che tu sai. E per me rimane il ricordo di Super Ste: allegro e sempre giovane; di occhi midori che tutto guardavano, che tutto capivano. Schernitore, atleta, amante della natura, dell’arte e della scienza. Amante della musica -quanta musica grandiosa avviammo spedisci tra noi!- Stefano di mente sempre aperta, sempre affamati. Un uomo illustrato, un uomo integrale.

Ho una grande gratitudine con questa vita perchè ti ho trovato. Perché abbiamo condiviso sorrisi con fiducia e lacrime con franchezza. Tutto quello buono e tutto quello cattivo. Vai mancarmi sempre, non ti dimenticherò mai.

Caro Stefano, corri forte, corri libero!

I want to hear your words of pain and rage, which I share.

I am not concerned with whether city halls are burning, nor with how many cars, doors, or government buildings have been burnt. Those are but symbolic actions done to replaceable things.

What I want to acknowledge is your pain, your rage, and the angst that comes from not knowing where your young students might be.

I also want to tell you that I have been following you, standing by you all along the protests and mobilizations that have been held in Mexico and in the world; although my acts do not appear in the paid media, I want you to know that I have joined you with real and true actions.

This is why I want you to keep on speaking, demanding, stating, unveiling the truth, and I want you to know that I will be listening to you, that your courage has shaken me; that it has changed me.

I shall greet your words with all of my heart and listen to your pain and your rage with outmost respect and profound admiration.

That is all.

An appropriation, loosely based in EZLN’s speech to Ayotzinapa students’ parents.
#missing43 #Ayotzinapa
———-
Quiero escuchar sus palabras de dolor y rabia, mismas que comparto como mías.

No me preocupa si presidencias municipales se queman; ni cuántos carros, puertas o edificios gubernamentales arden. Esos son actos simbólicos realizados a objetos reemplazables.

Lo que quiero enfatizar es el dolor, la rabia y la angustia provenientes de la incertidumbre respecto al paradero de los jóvenes estudiantes.

También quiero decirles que los he apoyado en las protestas y movilizaciones que se han realizado en México y en el mundo; aunque mis acciones de apoyo no aparezcan en los medios de paga, quiero que sepan que los he acompañado con hechos reales y verdaderos.

Quiero que sigan hablando, exigiendo, declarando, exponiendo la verdad, y quiero asegurarles que los estaré escuchando, que su valentía me ha inspirado y me ha transformado.

Recibiré sus palabras con todo el corazón para escuchar su dolor y su rabia con un profundo respeto y con gran admiración.

Es todo.

Apropiación, libremente basada en el discurso del EZLN a los padres de los estudiantes de Ayotzinapa.
#ayotzinapa #yamecansé

Evening through evening, days and days, years and years. And more to come. #HappySunset #withYou

Happy Sunset

I’ve already cried you a river.
But I’ll cry you oceans to come.

My father died yesterday but tomorrow will be yet another anniversary from his passing. This is as simple as saying no matter how much time goes by losing him is an unforgivable action. The pain of knowing I will never see him again, I will never talk to him nor kiss him and embrace him, has become a void that will never, could never be filled again. This -a feeling that comes from a very dark and heavy place- is to stay with me forever, I know. What small or big thing is to be learnt from his absence will never be worth enough to become a palliative of sorts.
It’s an anchor that was suddenly plucked from my life. It is not to be taking as a child’s pain. As an Elektra-sort of dependency. It is just love. And if while reading this you are unable to understand, unable to relate, the truth of the fact is that you just haven’t loved and care for a living being. And that’s that.

Then again, I find myself in a place that could be called a crossroad. The path I am to choose will take me to an un-walkable existence. It will define me for the rest of my days, and inflict on my surroundings a new kind of colour. Change happens daily; we wake up each morning being one but lay to sleep at night being slightly changed, as a more knowledgable or sophisticated version. But as the infinite knowledge of Time has it, the awakening from time to time is one of a being so different in depth an purpose that can only be said to be another.

It is a time for my quest to find Hope. Not hope for my sake. Not hope for my transcendence. I don’t believe in such things. My monsters are bigger than that. I need to find hope for a world that seems to be decomposing. Hope for my species which seems to be unethical, unconscious, immoral. I need to find hope for reason, hope for hope sake. I need the sheer confidence of understanding what life means. I need to understand the hope continuity after my existence. This I say not as an egocentric might but as the hope a believer does. It is my heart’s desire, my soul’s desire, to be able to grasp hope as mean to be able to write, speak, act and be in a brighter, lighter, more purposeful place.

Father, all things set aside and after all things have been said and told, I have to state my surprise about the fact that you raised a child that can only properly function in love, compassion, knowledge and understanding. This is your biggest legacy to me and my most revered discovery about your life. It is also a line of teaching worth of transcendence. This I also carry with me and this is -I understand- the best of places to begin my search for hope.

I will always love you. I will forever miss you.

As with almost every matter worthy of reflection, worthy of losing sleep over, worthy of taking a stand for, it happens that much wiser, clever, resourceful and articulate women and men have thought of and write about before me with such depths and understanding as to which I will never be able to aspire achieving. This is why I’m beginning this short and concise diatribe regarding my own personal approach on guns, guns legislation, gun ownership, and gun making with words from two of those men.

Magnificent Haruki Murakami wrote in one of his awarded novels, Kafka on the Shore, the following paragraph explaining the Chekhov’s pistol narrative logic when writing a story:
“If a pistol appears in a story, eventually it’s got to be fired”. Necessity is an independent concept. It has different structure from logic, morals or meaning. It’s function lies entirely in the role it plays. What necessity requires DOES need to exist.”

Then, there’s this other quote taken from brutal and outstanding Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut:
“I have told my sons that they are not under any circumstances to take part in massacres, and that the news of massacres of enemies is not to fill them with satisfaction or glee.
I have also told them not to work for companies which make massacre machinery, and to express contempt for people who think we need machinery like that.”

I have -since always- loathed fire weapons for all they represent. The sheer idea of human conceptual and creative mind focusing its power of invention into a tool of destruction, of overpowering the Other, of death, makes me feel both ashamed and sad for the species as it portrays a decadent, uncivilized and stupid one. I am and always will be, against the use, ownership or existence of guns.

The concept behind a fire arm is simple: it has no other purpose than to kill. Its only use is to destroy -efficiently- making in the process as much damage as possible as to accomplish its aim with flawless perfection. Unlike a bow or a knife, which can be used for things other than killing, a gun’s one an only use is to kill or, if you fail at it, hurt or injure. You can not construct anything with a gun as its purpose is the opposite: destruction. So you see, you can’t even construct security or safety with it. A fire arm is then in principle a twisted concept, like torture machinery and tools, like gas chambers, like an atomic bomb, like the guillotine.

I do believe in the inevitably of cause an effect, I do believe that when you introduce a gun in the story it will be fired and that in firing a gun you will forever lose all that which makes you honest and rational; that which gives you integrity. If you’re one of those who believe in the right and need of having a gun, then, I have nothing but contempt for you.

You, being for or angst, should take a look to these:

Bowlng for Clumbine by Michael Moore (sorry, Portuguese version is te only one I could get.)

Michael Moore “We have to take care of each other.”

As the wind carelessly blows away the few remaining shades of Summer into the rich fresh-lime, endless-yellow and golden textures of Autumn, it is once again time of inward reflection.

I don’t know why but Autumn does that to me. As the chipmunk gathers nuts, as the raccoon stores fat, I take my thoughts and recollections of times past, of lives that I’ve so loved and paths I’ve consciously diverged from.

Maybe I’m getting ready to comfortably warm with them, these dear recollections, my bones and hungry body. Maybe is just how the beautiful time of corduroy & wool warms me, packed between its tight layers.

As I walked between the golden & crimson trees, letting my mind wander, a leaf felt, I picked it up and thought of you.

May Autumn inspire your very best dreams, those which would lead your steps into fulfillment.

The flow of life has ever-changing rhythm. We collapse and loose track of those who are meaningful to us; they slip away as if only for an instant even if the instant lingers for years at a time. Just like a river, sometimes with strong current, others with only a tiny silver filament we walk the same paths with our dearest ones.

Always, remember this, you’ll be cherished by me and my thoughts will carry you, along with the warmest of smiles, ready to sneak out next time we meet.