Life

I started back at school last Thursday, and my
life has been even more of a whirlwind of tasks
that need to get done, going to work Saturday
through Wednesday and then school for Thursday
and Friday, then the crazy, systematic, and
almost out-of-control pattern occurs again....
and again. My life is now way too consistant
and dry. I need to find something, some activity
to get my mind off life and it's craziness,
otherwise I'm going to burn out very quickly.
I got two books from the library at school
last week, but haven't had much time to
read because I spend most of my days at work,
and when I'm not at work, I'm at school. I
need to slow down, to catch my breath, and
live a little, have some fun.

Tears for Hurricane Katrina victims

Today after lunch I was on the CNN website,
a link on Peterson's blog site, and saw all of
the little children who now have no homes, the cute
water-soaked pets that had to be left behind, and I was
almost in tears here in the library at school (as I am now).
I want to go to Louisiana to help out in the relief efforts,
donate blood and platelets, see first hand what the situation
is really like, what's really going on there, but alas, I
have no way of getting there. This is mainly because I just
recently was on a trip to England for a conference, and spent
over $2000 dollars on the program fees, flight tickets, and
traveller's checks (more than half of them used on paying for
train fares to get around the country: from London to
Bradford-on-Avon, Bradford-on-Avon to Lancaster, and then
Lancaster to London. Now I can say that I'm seriously shit broke.
I got greeted by several bills and a rent payment when I got
home, and with all of my savings bonds now gone (to pay for rent),
and $200 in my savings account, I'm now extremely desperate to
find a second job, one that pays more than I make now at Burger King.
Once I get a second job, I'm going to start my own collection jar
for donations for the Hurricane Katrina relief. I have already
contributed about $25 with money that I can't afford to use on
things other than bills. I'm taking that chance though, the
one on being able to help those in need when I'm also one
of those in need. Once I start my internship this fall,
once again I have to cut back on hours that I'm working at
Burger King to have time for my 16 hour a week internship (unpaid),
which means loss of money a.k.a money for rent, food, gas,
and paying other bills.
The financial sacrifice of going to England isn't one that I
would reverse any day. I'd rather be poor than know
that I could have missed out on a life changing experience,
a trip that connected me with other Quakers all over the world.
I now have fellow brothers and sisters (as quoted by another
WGYF participant) across the globe. I feel so priveleged to
have had the opportunity to have this experience and all
of the memories that go with it.
I can still hear the voices of these individuals echoing
against my eardrums on a daily basis, the laughter, the
smiles, the strong Irish accents and multitude of skin
colors, races, nationalities and cultures. I hold on to these
very tightly, not letting them to disappear or waver from anything.
I go out into the world with a bold conviction of God on
my right shoulder, and the need to live a Quakerly and volunteering
life in today's society.
I am appalled that government officials turned down assistance
from various countries who want to help the United States with
the relief efforts, but what astounds me even more is that this
morning I read on the internet that Bush wants to give more tax
cuts to the rich, 1% of Americans. How ruthless, heartless,
selfish and egotistical he is. In a national crisis, who does
he care about BESIDES the rich?
What an unchristian-like asshole he is! Just think of what
international countries are going to think of the United
States now! I am in horror by this, and continually and
increasingly disgusted by the government of this country.
Maybe we as the American public should take away some of
is amenities: White House servants, cooks, gardeners, his
clean water supply, his never-ending supply of food, paid
for by the American public ourselves thank you very much.
And lastly, take away his gas guzzling vehicles, because
I know he probably has several right with him at the White House

Mr. Salvat's Tearoom

On a two and a half hour stroll
through the countryside
on Sunday (8/14/05), along
the way I gotinto some nettles,
we walked along the canal system that
runs right through the center of Bradford-on-Avon
(originally known as Broad ford on avon,
avon meaning "on the river" in Celtic.
Walking through fields, river boats dotting
the canals and sailboats on the river.
On the way back to the meeting house,
we stopped at

Mr. Salvat's Tearoom

and for the first time in my life I
ordered a fruit scone with butter,
clotted cream and strawberry
jam with my second cup of Earl Grey tea.
since arriving in Bradford-on-Avon.
That weekend was also the first time
that I have tried fairtrade chocolate,
and I think I'm addicted. It even comes
in a variety of flavors: orange & spice,
mik chocolate, dark, white and many others
I had some more at the World Gathering, and
then brought a few bars home with me.

Meeting for Worship

It's time for meeting for worship
again at the World Gathering of Young Friends
here in Lancaster, England. Across the landscape of Great Hall
I see a variety of colors, colors of their skin.
Many countries represented here
and six continents. Many languages, from
Spanish and French,
to Nepalese, Russian and Bahasa (the
language that Indonesians speak).
It's interesting watching how Quakers
on an international level
act and react to others around them. Despite ranging
views and beliefs on Quakerism,
they act in a peaceful manner,
solipsistically, and cyclical, rewriting history
once again, only to be told in thousands of years
to a much different group of individuals. Programmed
meeting is interesting, lots of
messages being relayed to the audience, spectators of the crowd.
Silence,
the sound of the absence of sound. Peacefully
awaiting the
word of God, prayer, knowing that there is a higher power that hears
everything and takes it into consideration. I wonder, does God use
Quaker process to conduct his business? Does he set
up a business meeting to discern which prayers to chose to grant to individuals.

Hush, go quietly.

The religious and spiritual challenge

Many have challenged us young Quakers this week.
All four of the speakers (Deborah Saunders,
Ute Caspers, Oliver Kisaka Simayu, and Colin
Saxton) have urged us to go out into the world
and live the lives of activist Quakers and
travelling ministers. Benny (from Cuba YM)
and several others have challenged us to visit
and stay with Quakers from other yearly meetings
around the world to learn more about their practices
and beliefs and to help us become both closer to
each other as Quakers and closer to God. To have a
better understanding of each other we must interact
on a regular basis with international Friends from
every corner of the world. We must visit and attend
the monthly meetings, yearly meetings and evangelical
Friends churches to acheive this goal, to attain a
oneness and unification among us and through us. When we
all depart, we are urged to stay connected to each
other through these intervisitations and exchanges.
Twinning (having two yearly meetings connecting to
each other, similar to NEYM and Cuba) with a bridge
of love is nescessary to help us with this. This is God's
calling of us, to stay together, to communicate amongst
ourselves on a frequent basis, to go do work projects
with Quakers in other countries. To live with Quakers
in countries other than our home country. To never give up
on the hope that someday Quakers will have an understanding
of each other, regardless of geographic location, culture,
language, and economic status. God gives us this message,
and all we must do now is put it into action.

London Bombings

They think that they can scare me enough to not want to go
to London. I'm still going though, and
nothing can stop me.
It will be my first time to Europe,
and the third country I will have

stepped foot in (Canada and the Bahamas being the other two).

I knew since I was young that I was born to travel
and now I'm just trying to fulfill my destiny.

Saint Christopher will be coming along for the ride. He'll be my
traveling companion, and also serving as my protector, being the patron saint
of travellers and all. Catholics have a strong belief in the powers and gifts of saints............ but I'm not a Catholic, and don't attend confession or go to mass multiple times a week, yet I believe that there is
some truth to this stuff about the saints.
There are individuals and groups of people everywhere who say that they have
experienced a miracle,
and after coming back from England, I might be one of those people that can say the same thing.

The fire of God that resides within me

is what keeps me going,
striving for more,
longing to see more,
learn more,
travel more,
be more that I can ever imagine.

For Malcolm

For Malcolm by Peterson Toscano


I am your younger, lighter brother.
You exited in a bloody burst of gunfired four days
after I
Endured my own bloody ordeal called birth.


You're buried,
Yet live.
You resound in my students,
Young, displaced Africans.
You are their shining prince;
A fortress of a Black Man.


But were you a man like I am a man?


Were you ever unsure?
Confused?


Did you ever speed recklessly down?
Riverside Drive in the summer with
the windows closed so tight no one
heard you screaming?


Did you cling to Sister Betty, a
climber grasping a jutting rock on
a barren mountain face?


Were you a man like a I am a man?


You drove truth daggers into weary, Black souls.
You proclaimed what silently festered within.
You diagnosed the sickness.
You grouped for a cure, then
You left us like the cheetah bounding into the
forest.


It is your fierce manhood we crave.
It is your proud manhood we miss.
It is your profound manhood we must have.


You are a shining prince;
A fortress of a Man.


Will we be men like you when you were just a man?



Peterson's literary metaphors resonate over and over for anyone who knows anything about Malcolm X, or who was alive when he was and remembers reading about him in the newspapers and hearing about him on the evening news. Malcolm was an intelligent, sophisticated and articulate individual and created crowds to gather around him to listen to what he felt was important for others to know about.


"My alma mater was books, a good library... I could spend the rest of my life reading, just satisfying my curiosity." - Malcolm X

"Without education, you're not going anywhere in this world." - Malcolm X

Vietnam

The Vietnam Wall by Alberto Rios (1988)


I
Have seen it
And I like it: The magic,
The way cutting onions
It brings water out of nowhere.
Invisible from one side, a scar
Into the skin of the ground
From the other, a black winding
Appendix line.
A dig.
An archaeologist can explain.
The walk is slow at first,
Easy, a little black marble wall
Of a dollhouse,
A smoothness, a shine
The boys in the street want to give.
One name. And then more
Names, long lines, lines of names until
They are the shape of the U.N Building
Taller than I am: I have walked
Into a grace.
And everything I expect has been taken away, like that, quick:
The names are not alphabetized.
They are in the order of dying,
An alphabet of-somewhere-screaming.
I start to walk out. I almost leave
But stop to look up names of friends,
My own name. There is somebody
Severiano Rios.
Little kids do not make the same noise
Here, the junior high school boys don’t run
Or hold each other in headlocks.
No rules, something just persists
Like pinching on St. Patrick’s Day
Every year for no green.
No one knows why.
Flowers are forced
Into the cracks
Between sections.
Men have cried
At this wall.
I have
Seen them.


The archaeologist goes back in the past to document history and statistics. He learns how things were before the bloodshed and guerilla warfare, the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder ridden veterans, those who have suffered from Agent Orange, various types of cancers and constant reoccurring dreams, hallucinations, and feelings. He learns how things were before the veterans became addicted to alcohol, cocaine, heroin, and marijuana. Before the homelessness and the drug rehab programs that constantly fail because the Vietnam veterans are permanently traumatized by their experiences, so their addictions continue, month after month, year after year.
At this wall, it is even socially acceptable for grown men to cry, and there are plenty of them too. There are those who go to visit brothers, uncles, fathers, sons, nephews, cousins, grandfathers, and best friends, and then there are those who just go to pay their respects, even though they might not know or be related to anyone whose name is engraved on that vast black marble wall that seems to stretch for an eternity.
Individuals take pieces of paper and crayons or a pencil with them when they go to the wall in order to etch the name of their loved one or friend onto the paper to save so as to remember the person who died.
Vietnam was a vicious place to fight and both sides had hundreds of thousands of people slaughtered, wiped off the face of the Earth forever. The people that were killed in Vietnam weren’t just men either, they were women and children also. Whole villages were being ransacked, destroyed and obliterated, and bodies strewn everywhere in the landscape.

Walking

Walking softly
not making any sounds,
but still leaving those distinctive
footprints in the sand
all along the beach.
The shadows dance lightly and
quickly to and fro.
Palm trees wave in the slight breeze up above
and the ocean beckons to me. I sit and
meditate
in the cool dawn air and wait ......... peacefully
for sunrise and all of the possibilities that this
new day will bring to me.

Florida

Walking,
sand between my toes,
sunshine upon my back,
luke warm ocean water,
so clear and blue, like the sky above,
ahead cars zoom on streets, highways
hot pavement in February, palm trees line roads,
canals through cities, looking for alligators, but, alas,
unsuccessful,
snakes and lizards on concrete sidewalks
the sweet taste of a fresh orange in my mouth, untainted by chemicals
orange and pink pastel painted houses,
like the sea shells beneath,
one pina colada and a day of snorkling
swimming with the rainbow colored fish
some call it vacation in paradise,
I call it my life, after all, I wasn't born for harsh Maine winters.

Jack Kerouac

I was first introduced to Jack Kerouac during my
English class freshman year in high school. My English
teacher that semester spoke of books, writers, poets and
poetry. He taught me the wonders of reading and
writing poetry. He was the first poet to join what would
end up eventually amounting to quite an extensive
collection of books, lots of them being poetry, but also
including novels, high school yearbooks, and a few comic books.
I learned a lot from Alex McLean in high school, including how
to write sophisticated, intelligent, and articulate poetry.
Now I have started to write a book, and I will partially credit
that to Alex and partly to a professional actor by the name of
Peterson Toscano (Shhh.... Peterson doesn't know about this yet.) .
Jack was quite like I am now, wacky, creative, and intelligent.
Soon to join Kerouac on my bookshelf at home were Ginsberg,
Whitman, Dickinson, Neruda, Snyder, Wormser, Clifton and
many others. I even have a few anthologies already. It's
amazing what one can do with their life in such short
amounts of time.



http://www.jackkerouac.com/index.php