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Saturday, October 30, 2010

Rokia Traore - Kounandi

Rokia Traoré is a singer from Mali. She from the Bambara ethnic group. It is peaceful and magical.
I do not understand the lyrics..just a sweet melody. Enjoy!

Friday, October 29, 2010

A Race for Biodiversity in our “Green” Global Economy

According to this article, the U.N. Convention on Biodiversity meeting, Nagoya-Tokyo, was “fairly” harmonious regardless of the failure to reach consensus on vital contentious problems. In clear, it was a smooth progression from Copenhagen’s theatrical fiasco however this buzzing “green greed” did prevail over certain devastating consequences of biodiversity loss. The author, Malcom Foster reports that the crucial point was “the division between developing and industrial nations over working out a system to fairly share genetic resources, such as medicine extracted from plants — long a sore point for poorer countries.” Thank you Mr. Fisher!!!
It is cynical that modernization is at the source of all our problems. It was supposed to fix everything. We were supposed to work less, so we could live more and relax more. Instead, we want more for less, then take more and give less. In the process, we forget that Earth has the monopole of our economy!! Remember: Dirt! “Dirt is us, we are dirt. Dirt is earth’s skin. “This is a living breathing matrix of life on terrestrial earth.” Indeed we are dirt. Beyond the ideals of a green revolution, we are dirty guilty.
It is great to craft diplomatic protocols to fix and share responsibility. However, I do agree with the argument of developing countries and indigenous about not profiting from the bounty of their resources that benefited wealthy western companies. The contribution of billions in the name of biodiversity conservation is noble. Nevertheless, the extinctions of local economies by imposing legal dependency to developed countries at the expenses of developing nations’ biodiversity landscapes are slightly confusing. Dirty, dirty…
May we all win in this race for biodiversity…

Friday, October 22, 2010

Artsy Peeks


Sensory nerve fibres 

"This image highlights the basket of nerve fibres at the end of a hair follicle. Sensory nerves allow us to detect stimuli such as movement, pressure and pain. Light micrograph"


Breast Cancer Cells by Breast Cancer Cells by Annie Cavanagh

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Wisdom Whispers: Less is More

Less is More.
The less you want the more you get! 
Same Moonlight for our Dreams

Rocca - Les jeunes de l'univers

This one is for my brother!!! It is from 1997, a classic french hip hop song about hope. This song is universal. I was eighteen, I wanted to explore the world then build a better one.I believed that I was the master of my  destiny no matter the obstacles.This song said everything: I felt and I wanted to hear. It captures the malaise within the forgotten, and the hunger for change. Today, our son is seven and he understands the lyrics. He said: One love, I represent, we represent!! It is priceless. I realized that I can only offer a tiny contribution to the change. However to insufflate hope is  powerful. I am the master of my destiny and I have some many places to explore. Enjoy!!

Some translation. 
I believe in myself ... in you ... the future is in our hands
 And nothing should be able to cross our paths  
My generation is rising from the concrete as a flag 
America Latina, Africa represento Columbia
Hope is vital as the oxygen we breathe
United, we are the light of the way we are taking
 This is the worst of the fighting, the perpetual quarrel, the saga 
It is the dominant dominated, the law of  money 
Reverses statistics, surveys,Prove to your entourage
 A man full of courage, may dig its own way 
To victory, successDespite the many racial conflicts, social 
In France every effort has reward, go! 
One love! For all young people down the stairs of housing projectsI see hope for all those I love
For all young people of the universe: this universal message"
I represent, we represent"I dedicate it to those I love"
In all concrete in all concrete ..."
 For all young people of the universe: this universal message"
I represent, we represent" 
Think today is your day to fight and win, boy!"
The world is in front of you, do not expect it to embark"

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

The Colony by Al Jazeera

It is a super interesting documentary. I was surprise how much similarities I have with the Chinese immigrants and the African natives. Seriously, I was surprised that no matter where we are from,with diverse cultures, languages and spirituality, we are the same. In this global community, our differences are fading away even if we pretend otherwise. In a community of colonies, we tend to forget that cooperation is vital to our survival on the long run. I wish to find a documentary on African immigrants in China.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Life and Debt by Stephanie Black

I watched "Life and Debt"  this week end. It was done in 2001 but still true in 2010. It is about the duality between the world of "tourists" and "natives" with the  International Monetary Fund as provider. It is a deep reflection of  global economy and the death of local economies in Jamaica. The worst is that colonization is condemned nowadays but the "economical colonization" is currency. One farmer said that "it is an insult to our dignity". And it does summarize the movie. Of course you can follow the eloquent discourse about post-colonial landscape,a global pattern common throughout the Third World,  debt over double digits  billion to the IMF, the World Bank and the Inter-American Development Bank (IADB).
At the end, the economic policies  are killing people that are supposed to benefit. It is an infernal cycle of inflation, recession,national's loan, currency devaluation, lowering wages, and the so trendy "market deregulation". Life and debt exposes the impact of globalization in Jamaica.  Everybody is third world  at this time, no matter how titled is the dice it has only six faces. It is just unfair that it always the same people that are gambling at the expenses to the third class citizens.
Same Moonlight for our dreams.

Tus Manos by Pablo Neruda (Español -English-Français )

In school, poetry was the only reason I liked Spanish. The grammar rules were complicated but the poetry was so clear and melodious. Here one of my favorite of Pablo Neruda. It is about life, love, and caring hands. It is a powerful mix of nostalgia,passion, and gratefulness. It is real and universal. 
Here for the video in Spanish, it is intense and smooth.
Same Moonlight for our dreams.
Happy Monday!  

Tus manos
Cuando tus manos salen,
amor, hacia las mías,
¿qué me traen volando?
¿Por qué se detuvieron
en mi boca, de pronto,
por qué las reconozco
como si entonces, antes,
las hubiera tocado,
como si antes de ser
hubieran recorrido
mi frente, mi cintura?
Su suavidad venía
volando sobre el tiempo,
sobre el mar, sobre el humo,
sobre la primavera,
y cuando tú pusiste
tus manos en mi pecho,
reconocí esas alas
de paloma dorada,
reconocí esa greda
y ese color de trigo.
Los años de mi vida
yo caminé buscándolas.
Subí las escaleras,
crucé los arrecifes,
me llevaron los trenes
las aguas me trajeron,
y en la piel de las uvas
me pareció tocarte.

La madera de pronto
me trajo tu contacto,
la almendra me anunciaba
tu suavidad secreta,
hasta que se cerraron
tus manos en mi pecho
y allí como dos alas
terminaron su viaje

Your Hands
towards mine, love,
what do they bring me in flight?
Why did they stop
at my lips, so suddenly,
why do I know them,
as if once before,
I have touched them,
as if, before being,
they travelled
my forehead, my waist?
Their smoothness came
winging through time,
over the sea and the smoke,
over the Spring,
and when you laid
your hands on my chest
I knew those wings
of the gold doves,
I knew that clay,
and that colour of grain.
The years of my life
have been roadways of searching,
a climbing of stairs,
a crossing of reefs.
Trains hurled me onwards
waters recalled me,
on the surface of grapes
it seemed that I touched you.
Wood, of a sudden,
made contact with you,
the almond-tree summoned
your hidden smoothness,
until both your hands
closed on my chest,
like a pair of wings
ending their flight. 

Tes Mains
Lorsque tes mains s’envolent,
mon amour, vers les miennes,
que m’apporte leur vol ?
Pourquoi s’être arrêtées
brusquement sur ma bouche,
se faisant familières
comme si lors, avant,
je les avais touchées,
comme si avant couru
sur mon front, sur ma taille ?
Leur douceur s’avançait
en volant sur le temps,
sur la mer, la fumée,
sur le printemps aussi,
et quand tu as posé
tes mains sur ma poitrine,
j’ai reconnu ces ailes
de colombe dorée,
reconnu cette argile,
cette couleur de blé.
J’ai passé mes années
à marcher, les quêtant.
J'ai franchi les récifs,
gravi les escaliers,
les trains m’ont ramené,
dans la peau du raisin
je croyais te palper. 

Le bois m’apporté
un beau jour ton contact,
l’amande m’annonçait
ta secrète douceur,
lorsque ma poitrine
tes mains se sont fermées
et là comme deux ailes
ont fini leur voyage. 

Saturday, October 16, 2010

IAM - Demain c'est loin

This is a timeless, priceless, old school French HipHop song from IAM. Here my brief translation!
"The ink flows, the blood spreads  The blotting paper Absorbs the emotion,  images in my memory.I speak from what my relatives live and what I see Guys sinking  in the drifting  desperation....Tempt the devil to get out of misery, you won brother ..But it's still the misery that grows behind....Paint, fire dreams lie buried in the yard...At twelve lead, die, end up like Tupac Shakur ....And we are not born programmed to protest...I never think about tomorrow, because tomorrow is far ....Life is hard, if you want the dream....."

L'encre coule, le sang se répand la feuille buvard
Absorbe l'émotion, sac d'image dans ma mémoire
Je parle de ce que mes proches vivent et de ce que je vois
Des mecs coulés par le désespoir qui partent à la dérive

Des mecs qui pour 20.000 de shit se déchirent

Je parle du quotidien, écoute bien mes phrases font pas rire
Rire, sourire, certains l'ont perdu je pense à Momo
Qui m'a dit à plus jamais, je ne l'ai revu

Tenter le diable pour sortir de la galère, t'as gagné frère
Mais c'est toujours la misère pour ce qui pousse derrière
Pousse pousser au milieu d'un champs de béton
Grandir dans un parking et voir les grands faire rentrer les ronds

La pauvreté, ça fait gamberger en deux temps trois mouvements
On coupe, on compresse, on découpe, on emballe, on vend
A tour de bras, on fait rentrer l'argent du crack
Ouais, c'est ça la vie, et parle pas de rmi ici ici ici

Ici, le rêve des jeunes c'est la Golf gti, survet' Tachini
Tomber les femmes à l'aise comme many
Sur Scarface, je suis comme tout le monde je délire bien
Dieu merci, j'ai grandis, je suis plus malin, lui il crève à la fin

La fin, la faim, la faim justifie les moyens, 4, 5 coups malsains
Et on tient jusqu'à demain, après on verra bien
On marche dans l'ombre du malin du soir au matin
Tapis dans un coin, couteau à la main, bandit de grand chemin

Chemin, chemin, y'en a pas deux pour être un dieu
Frapper comme une enclume, pas tomber les yeux, l'envieux en veut
Une route pour y entrer deux pour s'en sortir, 3/4 cuir
Réussir, s'évanouir, devenir un souvenir

Souvenir être si jeune, avoir plein le répertoire
Des gars rayés de la carte qu'on efface comme un tableau tchpaou!
c'est le noir
Croire en qui, en quoi, les mecs sont tous des mirroirs
Vont dans le même sens, veulent s'en mettre plein les tirroirs

Tirroir, on y passe notre vie, on y finit avant de connaître l'enfer
Sur terre, on construit son paradis
Fiction, désillusion trop forte, sors le chichon
La réalité tape trop dure, besoin d'évasion

Evasion, évasion, effort d'imagination, ici tout est gris
Les murs, les esprits, les rats la nuit
On veut s'échapper de la prison, une aiguille passe, on passe à l'action
Fausse diversion, un jour tu pètes les plombs

Les plombs, certains chanceux en ont dans la cervelle
D'autres se les envoient pour une poignée de biftons, guerre fraternelle
Les armes poussent comme la mauvaise herbe
L'image du gangster se propage comme la gangrène sème ses graines

Graines, graines, graine de délinquant qu'espérez-vous? Tous jeunes
On leur apprend que rien ne fait un homme à part les francs
Au franc tireur discret au groupe organisé, la racine devient champs
Trop grand, impossible a arrêté

Arrêté, poisseux au départ, chanceux à la sortie
On prend trois mois, le bruit court, la réputation grandit
Les barreaux font plus peur, c'est la routine, vulgaire épine
Fine esquisse à l'encre de Chine, figurine qui parfois s'anime

S'anime, anime animé d'une furieuse envie de monnaie
Le noir tombe, qu'importe le temps qu'il fait, on jette les dés, faut flamber
Perdre et gagner, rentrer avec quelques papiers en plus
Ca aidera, personne demandera d'où ils sont tombés

Tomber ou pas, pour tout, pour rien on prend le risque, pas grave cousin
De toute façon dans les deux cas, on s'en sort bien
Vivre comme un chien ou un prince, y'a pas photo
On fait un choix, fait griller le gigot, brillent les joyaux

Joyaux, un rêve, plein les poches mais la cible est loin, la flèche
Ricoche, le diable rajoute une encoche trop moche les mecs cochent
Leur propre case, décoche pour du cash, j'entends les cloches,
les coups de pioche
Creuser un trou, c'est trop fastoche

Fastoche, facile le blouson du bourgeois docile des mêmes la hantise
Et porcelaine dans le pare-brise
Tchac! le rasoir sur le sac à main, par ici les talbins
Ca c'est toute la journée, lendemain, après lendemain

Lendemain? C'est pas le problème, on vit au jour le jour
On n'a pas le temps ou on perd de l'argent, les autres le prennent
Demain, c'est loin, on n'est pas pressé, au fur et à mesure
On avance en surveillant nos fesses pour parler au futur

Futur, le futur ne changera pas grand-chose, les générations prochaines
Seront pires que nous, leur vie sera plus morose
Notre avenir, c'est la minute d'après le but, anticiper
Prévenir avant de se faire clouer

Clouer, clouer sur un banc rien d'autre à faire, on boit de la bière
On siffle les gazières qui n'ont pas de frère
Les murs nous tiennent comme du papier tue-mouches
On est là, jamais on s'en sortira, Satan nous tient avec sa fourche

Fourche, enfourcher les risques seconde après seconde
Chaque occasion est une pierre de plus ajoutée à nos frondes
Contre leurs lasers, certains désespèrent, beaucoup touchent terre
Les obstinés refusent le combat suicidaire

Cidaire, sidérés, les dieux regardent, l'humain se diriger vers le mauvais
Côté de l'éternité d'un pas décidé
Préfèreront rôder en bas en haut, on va s'emmerder
Y'a qu'ici que les anges vendent la fumée

Fumée, encore une bouffée, le voile est tombé
La tête sur l'oreiller, la merde un instant estompée
Par la fenêtre, un cri fait son entrée, un homme se fait braquer
Un enfant se fait serrer, pour une Cartier menotté

Menotté, pieds et poings liés par la fatalité
Prisonnier du donjon, le destin est le geôlier
Le teurf l'arène on a grandi avec les jeux
Gladiateur courageux, mais la vie est coriace, on lutte comme on peut

Dans les constructions élevées
Incompréhension, bandes de gosses soi-disant mal élevés
Frictions, excitation, patrouilles de civils
Trouille inutile, légendes et mythes débiles

Haschich au kilo, poètes armés de stylo
Réserves de créativité, hangars, silos
Ca file au bloc 20, pack de Heineken dans les mains
Oublier en tirant sur un gros joint

Princesses d'Afrique, fille mère, plastique
Plein de colle, raclo à la masse lunatique
Economie parallèle, équipe dure comme un roc
Petits Don qui contrôlent grave leurs spots

On pète la Veuve Cliquot, parqués comme à Mexico
Horizons cimentés, pickpockets, toxicos
Personnes honnêtes ignorées, superflics, Zorros
Politiciens et journalistes en visite au zoo

Musulmans respectueux, pères de famille humbles
Baffles qui blastent la musique de la jungle
Entrées dévastées, carcasses de tires éclatées
Nuée de gosses qui viennent gratter

Lumières oranges qui s'allument, cheminées qui fument
Parties de foot improvisées sur le bitume
Golf, VR6, pneus qui crissent
Silence brisé par les sirènes de police

Polos Façonnable, survêtements minables
Mères aux traits de caractère admirables
Chichon bidon, histoires de prison
Stupides divisions, amas de tisons

Clichés d'Orient, cuisine au piment
Jolis noms d'arbres pour des bâtiments dans la forêt de ciment
Désert du midi, soleil écrasant
Vie la nuit, pendant le mois de Rhamadhan

Pas de distractions, se créer un peu d'action
Jeu de dés, de contrée, paris d'argent, méchante attraction
Rires ininterrompus, arrestations impromptues
Maires d'arrondissement corrompus

Marcher sur les seringues usagées, rêver de voyager
Autoradios en affaire, lot de chaînes arrachées
Bougre sans retour, psychopathe sans pitié
Meilleurs liens d'amitié qu'un type puisse trouver

Génies du sport faisant leurs classes sur les terrains vagues
Nouvelles blagues, terribles techniques de drague
Individualités qui craquent parce que stressées
Personne ne bouge, personne ne sera blessé

Vapeur d'éther, d'eau écarlate, d'alcool
Fourgon de la Brink's maté comme le pactole
C'est pas drôle, le chien mord enfermé dans la cage
Bave de rage, les barreaux grimpent au deuxième étage

Dealer du hashich, c'est sage si tu veux sortir la femme
Si tu plonges, la ferme, pas drame
Mais l'école est pas loin, les ennuis non plus
Ca commence par des tapes au cul, ça finit par des gardes à vues

Regarde la rue, ce qui change? Y'a que les saisons
Tu baves du béton, crache du béton, chie du béton
Te bas pour du laiton, est-ce que ça rapporte
Regrette pas les biftons quand la bac frappe à la porte

Trois couleurs sur les affiches nous traitent comme des bordilles
C'est pas Manille ok, mais les cigarettes se torpillent
Coupable innocent, ça parle cash, de pour cent
Oeil pour oeil, bouche pour dent, c'est stressant

Très tôt, c'est déjà la famille dehors, la bande à Kader
Va niquer ta mère, la merde au cul, ils parlent déjà de travers
Pas facile de parler d'amour, travail à l'usine
Les belles gazelles se brisent l'échine dans les cuisines

Les élus ressassent rénovation ça rassure
Mais c'est toujours la même merde, derrière la dernière couche
De peinture, feu les rêves gisent enterrés dans la cour
A douze ans conduire, mourir, finir comme Tupac Shakur

Mater les photos, majeur aujourd'hui, poto
Pas mal d'amis se sont déjà tués en moto
Une fois tu gagnes, mille fois tu perds, le futur c'est un loto
Pour ce, je dédie mes textes en qualité d'ex-voto, mec

Ici t'es jugé à la réputation forte
Manque-toi et tous les jours les bougres pissent sur ta porte
C'est le tarif minimum et gaffe
Ceux qui pèsent transforment le secteur en oppidum

Gelé, l'ambiance s'électrise, y'a plein de places assises
Béton figé fait office de froide banquise
Les gosses veulent sortir, les "non" tombent comme des massues
Les artistes de mon cul, pompent les subventions dsu

Tant d'énergie perdue pour des préjugés indus
Les décideurs financiers plein de merde dans la vue
En attendant, les espoirs foirent, capotent, certains rappent
Les pierres partent, les caisses volées dérapent

C'est le bordel au lycée, dans les couloirs on ouvre les extincteurs
Le quartier devient le terrain de chasse des inspecteurs
Le dos a un oeil car les eaux sont truffées d'éceuils
Receuille le blé, on joue aux dés dans un sombre cerceuil

C'est trop, les potos chient sur le profil Roméo
Un tchoc de popo, faire les fils et un bon rodéo
La vie est dure, si on veut du rêve
Ils mettent du pneu dans le shit et te vendent ça Ramsellef

Tu me diras "ça va, c'est pas trop"
Mais pour du tcherno, un hamidou quand on a rien, c'est chaud
Je sais de quoi je parle, moi, le bâtard
J'ai dû fêter mes vingt ans avec trois bouteilles de Valstar

Le spot bout ce soir qui est le King
D'entrée, les murs sont réservés comme des places de parking
Mais qui peut comprendre la mène pleine
Qu'un type à bout frappe sec poussé par la haine

Et qu'on ne naît pas programmé pour faire un foin
Je pense pas à demain, parce que demain c'est loin

Cesaria Evora - Lua Nha Testemunha

Happy Saturday to you all!!!A little Cesaria Evora!!

If  you Cape Verdian passing by, please translate... Thank you!
I get : the vagabonds of hope..suffering with loneliness for only companion . in a  life that can be a misadventure... in this world, it is all in God' hands regardless of the distress , distance , pain , have the strength  to succeed  in this world. ....To you all vagabonds of hope. All my love.... Well I am trying :)

Bô ka ta pensâ
nha kretxeu
Nen bô ka t'imajiâ,
o k'lonj di bó m ten sofridu.
lua na séu
lua nha kompanhêra
di solidão.
Lua vagabunda di ispasu
ki ta konxê tud d'nha vida,
nha disventura,
El ê k' ta konta-bu
nha kretxeu
tud k'um ten sofridu
na ausênsia
y na distânsia.

Mundu, bô ten roladu ku mi
num jogu di kabra-séga,
sempri ta persigi-m,
Pa kada volta ki mundu da
el ta traze-m un dor
pa m txiga más pa Déuz

Mundu, bô ten roladu ku mi
num jogu di kabra-séga,
sempri ta persigi-m,
Pa kada volta ki mundu da
el ta traze-m un dor
pa m txiga más pa Déuz

Bô ka ta pensâ
nha kretxeu
Nen bô ka t'imajiâ,
o k'lonj di bó m ten sofridu.
lua na séu
lua nha kompanhêra
di solidão.
Lua vagabunda di ispasu
ki ta konxê tud d'nha vida,
nha disventura,
El ê k' ta konta-bu
nha kretxeu
tud k'um ten sofridu
na ausênsia
y na distânsia.

Mundu, bô ten roladu ku mi
num jogu di kabra-séga,
sempri ta persigi-m,
Pa kada volta ki mundu da
el ta traze-m un dor
pa m txiga más pa Déuz

Mundu, bô ten roladu ku mi
num jogu di kabra-séga,
sempri ta persigi-m,
Pa kada volta ki mundu da
el ta traze-m un dor
pa m txiga más pa Déuz

Friday, October 15, 2010

Artsy Peeks of the week

Original Signed Alice Valdez Batik of Pueblo Woman








Michele Muenning, Older than a dream
Bei Shui, Poppy being in full bloom No.1/盛开的罂粟花1号, 2010, Oil Painting









Thursday, October 14, 2010

Conversations With Myself by Nelson Mandela

Conversations With Myself by Nelson Mandela was released worldwide on Tuesday October 12,2010 in 22 editions and 20 languages. May his armor lay to rest ...

"In a foreword, U.S. President Barack Obama writes that Mandela, who largely retired from public life in 2004, is inspiring even if he is no saint..."Underneath the history that has been made, there is a human being who chose hope over fear — progress over the prisons of the past," Obama wrote. "And I am reminded that even as he has become a legend, to know the man ... is to respect him even more."

In real life we deal, not with gods, but with ordinary humans like ourselves: men and women who are full of contradictions, who are stable and fickle, strong and weak, famous and infamous.’ —Nelson Mandela

Fair Trade choice of the week: Sakaad Kenya

Sakaad is selling handmade bags by women in Kenya. Artisans with quality product and reasonable prices. And free shipping on orders over $20.00!!!Sakaad has been a member of the Fair Trade Federation( since April 19th 2007.Sakaad has been a member of the Better Business Bureau, since May 17th 2007, and participates in the Better Business Bureau Online Reliability Program, since June 8th Sakaad is a child company of Curio Africana Expo International. Started in Kenya, Curio Africana Expo International has been in business since 1980.

Black Classic Handbag at $40.00
Grey Sisal Duffel at $45.00

October is Fair trade Month

Please go on to vote because every purchase has power.

 The Fair Trade Certified label helps you make choices, with the confidence that your product is socially and environmentally sustainable. When you purchase Fair Trade products, you vote with your dollars to support what matters to you.

Fighting Poverty
Fair Trade is a market-based system—that develops global trade, not aid—in which farmers are empowered with the tools to raise themselves out of poverty.
Protecting the Environment
Fair Trade certification enables farmers and workers to practice sustainable farming, remove dangerous chemicals, conserve resources, and preserve their land for generations to come.
Building Sustainable Business
Fair Trade provides farming organizations the support to build their business capacity, which allows them to deal directly with buyers around the world to negotiate fair prices and offer fair wages.
Empowering Women
Fair Trade guarantees women access to health care, child care, representation and freedom from harassment so they are able to play leading roles in their families and their cooperatives.
Supporting Education
Fair Trade helps families keep their children in school. With added revenues from Fair Trade, parents can pay tuition, set up scholarships, and give the gift of education in isolated communities.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Allegory of Plato's cave -Animated version

This is a perfect animation for children. Oh yes, a little philosophy will not hurt!!!Use a little Starwars' analogy with Luke Skywalker learning about the force from Obi won Kenobi. Luke's knowledge of the force did forever change his knowledge of the world. Do not forget to mention that members of the republic, the senate and even the Jedi order are only looking forward at the shadows on the cave walls while Palpatine “Darth Sidious” manipulates the shadows. And of course the Siths are people driven  by desires of power rather than reason!!To conclude bad guys are immoral because they are ignorant and do not see beyond the force..That will be enough. If you need more quote Master Yoda's wisdom!

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

The allegory of the cave inside our homes, communities to Chilean miners

After the condemnation to death of Socrates for impiety and corrupting the youth, Plato wrote many dialogues hoping to describe a perfect government. I guess a government that would have spare Socrates. In the Book VII of The Republic: It starts with an allegory on ignorance and knowledge. Socrates imagines male prisoners since their childhood in a cave. They are chained so they only see the walls of the cave and the shadows projecting the reflections of people and objects that are outside. The men never knew that these shadows are taken for reality. When the first prisoner is freed, he is forced to look toward the light. At first his eyes were burning. He preferred the darkness, and comforting shadows. Slowly he locates people, the moonlight and stars. Finally, the man looks at the sun; he understands that it is the cause of all the shadows projected.  This allegory expresses all of Plato’s philosophy. It is about the soul, morality and idealism of a supreme good. We as a community are supposed to join for the supreme Good.  According to Plato evil is only a mistake done due the ignorance of Good. That is why the republic should be a reflection of a thriving community under the leadership of the philosopher “elected” by us.

Once again, the allegory of Plato's cave is at the core of the long and painful rescue of Chilean miners.  In contrast, this men know reality,  the have a raw  knowledge of life under the republic. The are miners!!! Everyday, they go down the cave and risk their life to live without chains. However there are already enchained  in the invisible cage but they have chosen to fight for their children and families. According to news, now that they are close to freedom, nobody wants to be the first. And everyone wants to be the last.The ruff accession to reality scares them. And this seclusion must have exacerbated their sense of communities within the community. The wisdom they gained  makes it unbearable to pretend otherwise because it is equally difficult to  acquire and transmit such knowledge. I want to believe that their altruism and compassion is catalyzed by the refusal of being the first out.  Of course, their unity is a stellar symbol of the supreme  good. We should be humbled and inspired by them!!Nevertheless, deep down you know that they have to faced reality with a new mind, different  fears, and dreams. They have changed. And their realities did not. At the end, no one will care and they probably will have to go down the cave again. While many pretending leaders will have time to contemplate more ideas.

For the rest of us that are not locked miners. We  tend to enter caves as well. Our caves can be internet, television, shopping, consummation, recreation, name it and even dreaming. It can definitively be pleasurable because we have access to so much rights and goods. However let us not be enchained in our realities, and find comfort in the communities within the community. The allegory of the cave is even inside our homes, now and then do not forget to stare at the moonlight and the stars. And keep on worshiping the morning sun because this is it! Let us pray for them...
Same Moonlight for our dreams.

From Wikipedia:
After "returning from divine contemplations to human evils", a man "is graceless and looks quite ridiculous when – with his sight still dim and before he has gotten sufficiently accustomed to the surrounding darkness – he is compelled in courtrooms or elsewhere to contend about the shadows of justice or the representations of which they are the shadows, and to dispute about the way these things are understood by men who have never seen justice itself?"

Monday, October 11, 2010

Neckties: bent swords in urban jungle

While watching a documentary on wars and civilizations, my friend joked that the suits are modern version of armors, and the neckties are reminders of swords. I was impressed and intrigued.  So I did some research. It has a military origin. In 1630s Croatian mercenaries were enlist to support Louis XIII of France and Cardinal Richelieu against the Duc de Guise and the Queen Mother, Marie de Medici.  Of course Parisians loved it. And in glimpse,  the Croatian word "Hr̀vāt" became "cravat" deriving from the French "cravate," a corrupt French pronunciation of "Croat". It became a trendy must in Europe, and then English  adopted the style in 1660 when Charles II returned to England from exile. The cravats stayed in style but the trend was preserved by “maccaronis”. Funny word but pejorative to fashionable male from “the Italian word maccherone – a boorish fool in Italian – and said that anything that was fashionable or à la mode was 'very macaroni” Cravats, neckties became known as ties only after the battle of Waterloo in 1815. The weird part is that I visited Waterloo as a child. And I was so impressed by the officer uniforms. Maybe that is why I love military jackets so much, they have that perfect combination of style and distinction…In conclusion my friend was right. And I love his analogy of ties as bent swords kept around the neck to stylishly portray the warrior within in this urban jungle.
Same Moonlight for our Dreams.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Sting - Desert Rose

Enjoy this old duet from Sting and Cheb Mami!

Here the lyrics
[ lai......... lai… lai… aa^ … pa … aa^ … pa… ma… pa…
lalima de afrina de nin hau husain' wah^ ho ya ho ya husain di^ di^
de nin hau husain' wah^ ho ya ho ya husain di^ di^
de nin hau husain' wah…….. ali ya husain di di]

I dream of rain {yele e yele} [ husain wah^]
I dream of gardens in the desert sand [hus…ain wah ]
I wake in pain {yele e yele} [husain wah……… ]
I dream of love as time runs through my hand
I do fire {yele e yele} [oo…. oo……]
Those dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire
And in my flames {yele e yele} [ ho ho ho……]
Her shadows play in the shape of man's desire
This desert rose {yele e yele}
Each of her vails a secret promise
This desert flower {yele e yele}
No sweep perfume ever tortured me more than this { 5 }
And now she turns {yele e yele}
This way she moves in the logic of all my dreams
This fire burns {yele e yele}
I realize that nothing as it seems
I dream of rain {yele e yele} [ ho ho…… ho]
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain {yele e yele}
I dream of love as time runs through my hand
I dream of rain {yele e yele}
I lift my gaze to empty skies above
I close my eyes this rare perfume
Is the sweet intoxication of her love

[Aa ma na ma na ma na ma na na ma
aa……. Pa…….
aa …………
aa^ ………

[lai….. ma^…. pa ma^ …. pa ma pa ]

{yeh………} I dream of rain {yele e yele} [husain wah^]
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain {yele e yele} [ husain wa……]
I dream of love as time runs through my hand [I wa^… in pain]
This desert rose {yele e yele}
Each of her vails a secret promise + [vails a secret prom.……]
This desert flower {yele e yele} + [o^……….]
No sweep perfume ever for tortured me more than this +
Sweet desert rose {yele e yele} + [swwee…… desert rose yele e yele]
This momery of eden haunts as all +[ of eden haunts……..]
This desert flower this rare perfume +[This desert flower this rare per^...fume]
Is the sweet intoxication of her fall. +[Is the sweet intoxication of her fall]

[he oo……… he oo…….. he oo…….
ali ya…… mohomadali….
ali ya………. mohomadali
yo………. ………...]

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Paulo flores - poema do semba

Paulo Flores  is from Angola grew up in Portugal. His semba resonates with everybody hardships in life with death, deception, happiness,singing, dancing,freedom, joy, hope and dreams. Semba is a poem. It is a poem in you. Enjoy and dance a little…:)

The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration by Isabel Wilkerson.

The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration(1910s to 1970s) by Isabel Wilkerson. I saw her interview on the PBS. Like she says, it is a classic American story. She interviewed hundreds and chosen three people from different decades and regions. I love how she presents this great migration as “immigrants in their own country”. Wilkerson emphasized on the distinction of “Emigrants with an E because they were actually leaving one place for another place that they hoped would be better”. The author is powerful and the message can reach out to all classes, races, and cultures. She offers a comprehensive story about leaving the South. In my opinion, it is a deep exploration of the immigrant mind. It is not just a classic American story because we can all related to the need of better education for our children and freedom. I love the subtility about the migration itself. People did not want to become “somebody”. They had modest goals. They had the will, the determination that made them go beyond.  The migrations were about rights not the desire of power. She also pointed out that these migrants were usually married couples, or families. And they always send money back home for the relatives. It is the immigrant mind. It is that bitter sweet silence struggle between the will, the conscience and the heart. Professor Isabel Wilkerson did a great job. It is a brilliant epic story that exposes this part of history. I am buying this book! I am sure it will be a stunning painting with all the flavor of soul, blues and jazz.
Same Moonlight for our Dreams
THE WARMTH OF OTHER SUNS by Isabel Wilkerson (SNEAK PEEK)                                                              

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Metamorphosis to the butterfly within our soul

On Sunday, we walked to the farmer market for a last farewell to summer before fall moves in. It seems that everybody decided to do the same. My son was gazing at a yellow butterfly in a busy parking lot. Then a lady in her hybrid SUV drove over the butterfly… And right there, I had to go find the butterfly for a proper burial. It was a fast ceremony. My son made a hole, put the fragile body in and covered it with soil. Then we said our goodbyes. As a mom, I told him that the butterfly's energy was transfered to him because he tried to rescue it from the car…Yes, I did!!! Over dinner, he shared his story. To make it easy, we said that it just happened and a butterfly life spam is so short anyway. He was relieved and said he was happy that he is not a butterfly.Yes, indeed… We pulled the “it is life” card!!

In introspective, we are butterflies. We see ourselves as magnificence divine nymphs getting ready for an astonishing triumph in our lifetime. However we used to be eggs and wandering caterpillars.  In our chrysalis stages were reluctant to see the world because we are just too busy getting ready for that fabulous journey. Our gradual metamorphosis is a beautiful and painful stage. It requires awareness and consciousness. When the butterfly emerges from the chrysalis, it rests while pumping the blood to the wings. It takes three to four hours to master flying. And then it is time to explore, find a mate, reproduce, live and die. If the butterfly is lucky, it will die in peace at the end of a spectacular journey.

We have a longer spam life but we are all going trough the metamorphosis within our soul. No matter what lays a head we must have faith, hope and believe in life.  We must get ready to live and inspires all the wandering caterpillars, and fragile chrysalis about the ultimate audacity to just be. So let us rest, master flying, and keep on dreaming of many amazing flights. Life is a satirical prose. It is life.Just live because you never know when a hybrid SUV will interrupt your flight!

Same Moonlight for our Dreams.

by pageofbats

Monday, October 4, 2010

Nelson Mandela: The Authorized Comic Book

Perfect for a second grader and up!!
Written by The Nelson Mandela Foundation. Art by Umlando Wezithombe. Here
Yes...The drawings are ok not great but the message is grandiose!!!
"Like most graphic novels produced with educational intent, the art takes a far second to the didactic text in this graphic biography of the South African icon. It's tough to criticize a book created to contribute to the ongoing canonization of the still-living Mandela. The intent is clear from the lack of individual creator credits, since who actually wrote these words and drew these pictures isn't important to the Mandela Foundation; what matters is that this is an authorized, approved biography created in a format to attract the attention of younger people, those who might not have been alive during the decade when Free Nelson Mandela was a politically important chant....Mandela was born in 1918, and the book will be released on his 91st birthday. "

Fair trade-Online by SERRV

According to the website, it is a non-profit!!! If we must keep in mind that we are a global community, let us not forget that we are a global economy. And if a little of our spending can support artisanal crafts and small farmers so be it. "SERRV is a nonprofit organization with a mission to eradicate poverty wherever it resides by providing opportunity and support  to artisans and farmers worldwide."
Here some items for fair trade gifts!!!
Shade of Gold Earrings-Phillipines at $12
Crimson Power Cuff-India at $10
Sonoke Bracelet-Indonesia at $4
Seascape ring-Chile at $11
Sea Waves Tote-Vietnam at $28
Sisal Trivet Set-Rwanda at $20
Cau Vong Bowl set-Vietnam at $21

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Dreaming of Burundi

My mother is going back home after 38 years of exile and migrations!!! She is going back to Burundi!!I am so happy that her dream came true. And that she will see her mother! I wish I could have been with her. Until next time, I am dreaming of that land I belong. I am dreaming of that day... Today one of my dreams came true as well.  I am forever grateful...Thanks!!!

 Pictures from
by Eclectic Al
by rowanseymour
by carlos bobillo barbeito
by polafol


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