GREEN

Green. 
i love you, green.
Green.
i care for you, green. 
Green.
i cry you, green.
Green.
i smile you, green. 

Green.
Peace
for me
green.
Green.
Peace
for you
green. 

Green.
i drink you
green.
Green.
i eat you
green.

Green.
i smell you
green.
        I close my eyes and travel through you. You i inhale, discover every little bit of you. My eyes shut 
        i can still see you thoroughly by means of your fragrance. Fragrance of green. Green of grass. 
        Grass freshly cut. Cuts right through me. Me, you, us exploring each other by virtue of smell. 
        Smell me smell you smell green. 

Green.
i taste you
green.
Green.
i kiss you
green.
        Traveling to moments of green. Green flows, green grows.  Grow in me around me up and below,
         inside outside near and far. Far we shall never be. 

Green.


*** Fía.

Cloud Gazing.

Moments of clarity,
moments of simplicity,
a tiny split moment in time when it all settles--or maybe moves-- to a place of understanding. 

I'm enjoying a instant of warm breeze, watching the white clouds slowly travel South.  This large group of white curly puffs that seem to work together and head somewhere.  
And i think...
(i like to think, contemplate and review quite a lot)
i think of things: situations, people, myself, the environment. 
My thoughts travel like the big chunk of clouds.

And so i come to a moment of ease.  I call it ease for there is no struggle of any kind, there is no battle, there is no giving up either.  There just is...
a pinch of surrender, maybe.  But i like to think of it as a letting go and being. 

Lose the complication.  
Lose the mental masturbation of problem solving and deciphering. 

I just happen to read an entry from my friends yoga teacher, and it speaks exactly of this: detached- attachment and effortless-effort. http://us5.campaign-archive.com/?u=ef05bedd74581a4140afa19ee&id=3b24ebe01d 

How does that go? 
Practice and Play. 

Be alive, present, aware...but with a certain detachment and at ease. 
This yoga teacher so appropriately quotes the Thomas Merton (monk and student of Zen):
"issues of life are not so much problems to be solved, but mysteries to be entered."

I find that beautiful.  
It implies courage, it implies faith, it demands strength.
Not fear. 

Another new revelation, piece of information, (new to me, at least) was that the German word for "holy" (selig) is the English root for the word "silly".  So there is some lightness and playfulness to it all...

So, going back to my breezy afternoon- cloud gazing moment, i found myself with a bit of simplicity and epiphany.  I'm here, now, today.  I'm in a journey..for sure..we all are.  This journey has ups, has downs, has rocks to climb, rivers to swim, lakes to soak on and sun-bathing moments.  But it's all alive, its all an opportunity to find new discoveries and earn little stars of heartfulness joy. 
My journey is a bit bumpy at the moment, but it's quite beautiful too.  
I haven't felt more in my skin as now.  
There things i want, and i want them so so bad.
I want to be a part of...i want to play. 

I can smell my courage, my faith and i kiss my strength.
Not afraid. 

Fía.

LOVE FEVER

Estado febril.
     Feverish.
Temblores del corazón.
      Heart tremors.
Calor.
Sudor.
Suspiros.
      Heat.
      Sweat.
      Sighs. 

Los oídos se ensordecen con el palpitar.
El pecho crece, desciende, crece, desciende.
Expectante.
Vivo.
      The pumping, beating, thumping is deafening,
      Chest expanding, sinking, expanding, sinking.
      Expectancy.
      Alive.

Párpados, pestañas revolotean cual mariposas en un jardín inglés de lavandas.
Hay un pequeño mordisco al labio inferior.
Coqueto.
Sensual.
      Eyelids, eyelashes blinking butterflying away in an English lavender garden.
      Lower lip slightly bitten.
      Teaser.
      Sensual.

Momento cúlmine.
Labios se separan.
Inhala. 
Todo se expande: ojos, traquea, pecho.
Electricidad.
Cabeza! Corazón! Pies!
     Climax.
     Lips pull apart.
     Breathe in.
     All expands: eyes, trachea, chest.
     Static.
     Head! Heart! Feet!

Te veo...
     I see you...

PLAY! 

and PLAY!

Océano.

Océano.
(cómo me encanta esa palabra)

Océano.
Océano.
Océano.

Roca caimán con vida.
Un ser barbudo exfoliado con agua y sal.
Limpiándose día a día: de las culpas de una vida pasada?
De las heridas de guerra, quizás.

Gaviotas que hablan, susurran y cantan.
Cortejo marino de negros, blancos, verdes y rosados.
Una continua celebración.

Fragancia a mineral- casi como el olor a sangre.
Paz y Guerra.
Calma y Violencia.
Caricia y Amenaza.
Amor y Terror.

Océano.
Océano.
Océano. 


....tu que haces nuestro planeta azul. 

SMOKE ME TONIGHT

I’m up beyond the clouds, yet my feet can feel the heat of the earth holding me. 

My heels are breathing, like two lungs, alive.

Dirt, grasssss.

Sensitive, perceiving how much my blood hungers another.

Another? Anyone? Someone?

You.

Afraid to face it, terrified to dive in.

There are games to play, games that lend to tricks and make us half-players.

I don’t want to be a half-player.

I’d rather get lighted and burned.

I see a figure sucking in some kind of smoke.

Gray, white.

Complete contrast to the black of night.

Light me,

Suck me in,

I’ll turn into smoke.

I’ll travel through you, become a part of you.

I’m light-headed.

I’m losing the reins allowing the beat of this galloping heart hit my thighs,

dance with my body.

I’m light-headed.

Surrendering to this whirlwind of energy waves.

Underwater, twirling with the sea foam.

I’m light-headed.

High and addicted to the memory of the smell of your skin.

I’m light-headed.

Becoming smoke.

Traveling through your deepest corners,

ending in the tip of your lips.

Smoke me tonight. 

Long time, no write

It's been quite a few weeks, i think actually a bit more than a month since i last visited my dear post. I've been meditating a lot about this kind of media, this blog for me to express my inner thoughts, inner feelings and insights. 
I started it all with the intention to allow myself a real space (although i don't know where it lives..in a cloud somewhere? a nonexistent cloud?) for me to bring out, type out, what is happening inside me. The idea was brought to life as a cry from the soul--at least i like to call it so. I was living in New York City, in the wild city of lights, of everlasting sirens, nonstop activity (no matter how useful that activity actually was), but activity nonetheless. I can't help but call upon the typical image that i've seen in some photograph, postcard, advertisement or movie--can't recall where.  That image of a woman/man standing in the middle of light chaos.  Where the time and exposure of the lens has been tweaked so this individual is in focus and all you see around is some overwhelming cloud of lights.  Beaming around her, beaming across, behind, above him or her. 
That is what it was like, really. 
It was beautiful, yes..at times.  It was exciting, hell yes.  But i was alone. Alone and lost. No space for air, no space for tears of either joy or sadness. 
I was a statue. 
What was this statue doing? Did it feel? Did it dream? Did it smile or frown?
No. Not really.
And the answer was simply: no time for that. 
Yes, there was time..time to be used.  Time to be effective, productive. My productivity was not only making me go around in circles: quite like a hamster on its wheel.  (Cliché again, i know). All those stupid terms of today's language was depleting me, was making me empty and hard as stone. 
To make long story short, it all cracked. It had to, really.  
I was lucky enough to have a safety net.  A home, a family. 
A family of friends, a family of relatives, a family of people i do not even know but that i see, listen and read about and admire. 

I think the first little crack was this little bugger-- this blog. 
Haven't been very active about it recently.  At least not in action, although totally in mind. Things that i think about, things that i observe, words that i listen or read, images that i see..it all goes into this little bag that leads to blogging. I write it down on my tiny notepad, i copy/paste it on my personal folder or make a note of it on my email or phone. 

Today, unexpectedly, un-planned, i just sat down and started writing. 
That spark came from an interview i was just watching: dated 2010, Mr. Max Neef on democracy now.
I've been so blessed to know him, but that could make up a book, not a blog post. 
Back on track:  one of the many eloquent things he said just made me hit pause and write. 
"we know a lot, we know hell of a lot. But we understand very little". 

Aha.

Fía.

Message in a Bottle

Words.  
Written.  Spoken. Sung. Read. Listened.
Words. 
Of love, of pain, of distress, of yearning, of beseech, of aid--even of anger. 
Words.
Building worlds, breaking them, to mend them back together--or not. 
Words.
Constructing thoughts, unveiling feelings, founding knowledge. 
Words. 
Describing personal and universal realms, allowing connection.
Words.

How vital are they for us?  This is rhetorical.  
We build language through words--not only written and spoken: a certain gesture defies distances of oceans and continents, and still communicates a certain essential message. We possess the powerful tool of connection through the use of language.  We even create poetry, art, with language.
What about the universal language of music? Rhetorical once again. 

Today i'm thinking about written words, nonetheless. I've been diving into a magical world through a book i grab and cherish every night.  
A confession: sometimes i see myself with time to grab my book, in the middle of the day, and resist.  Resist because it's such pleasure to go to bed and welcome the world of those ink words, knowing i'll then surrender to my dreams with such magic and beauty.  
What am i reading? 
Letters to Olga (Cartas a Olga) by Anton Checkhov--or Chejov, in Spanish. 
A collection of letters between these two souls, between 1900 and 1904, years in which they explore their feelings, give in to their love and affection, marry, challenge physical distance between them, discuss and live through art (she acts, he writes), go crazy over their passion, examine insecurities, moments of pain, explode in joy, amuse each other with their wit, and overall love. Love. 
These two souls existed.  They sat under a tree in Yalta, cried over a piece of paper in a candlelit room in Moscow, inhaled the air of Petersburg, formed the thoughts, felt the feelings, and delivered their souls in these private correspondences i'm now reading every night.

I feel like a spy. 
It makes me a bit nervous, i must admit. 
At times i stop and think about them, and wonder if they ever thought someone like me would be reading such personal messages.  And it makes me a bit uneasy. 

I melt.  I do.  I melt at their humanity. At their simplicity, at their complexity, their authenticity. 
I kneel before language. I am able to access this piece of life from the past and realize the universal-everlasting language of love and life. 
Their letters allows me to open the door to Russia, to a world i didn't (and never will) be a part of.  I've read the outstanding plays of Anton Checkov, but now, I can explore a piece of his world-- color my glass of perception in a similar shade as his.  And Olga, as an actress, as a human being, as a lover, a beating heart of a specific era. 

Words. 
They create my world.  They nourish my life.  
Words.
Let my heart speak.
Words.
Put me sleep, make me dream, wake me up, allow me live. 

Fía.    

Truman

Things move. 
Sideways, in circles, in spirals.
There is constant motion--want it or not. 
Believe it or not. 

The planet is pumping. 
Like a heart.
Every beat produces a shift, produces a new variable of something.
The world is every cloud, every butterfly, every bee, a child that blinks, every creature that winks at the sun, every ocean.  

I think of the world, of the planet, and it somehow becomes abstract.  Too large. I know that as i sit and write this morning; as i hear my brother next door: he's reading, learning, thinking--clicking the tap on and off the highlighter-- 
As i can feel the heat of the day surround my body, or watch a mischievous bee wonder my balcony deciding whether to come in or not...
As i perceive this micro-world around me, happening, i know there are fellows shivering to the cold, or half way through their sleep or maybe just waking up, this same instant, to a whole different day.  I know that, it takes a bit of an effort to make a picture of it in my head, but i know it.  It's no new discovery. 

Yet, it seems too far, too large..not a part of.....me.  
You could well say it's happening in another planet, i don't know. 
Grasping the concept of the planet is challenging. Of our whole planet is too much.  (our being the key word here). 
It becomes abstract, it becomes a concept.  Something that gets easily tosses to the trash of our hard drive, or last on our list of concerns or existence. 
I find it quite dangerous. Yet it does not particularly strike me as odd that it's been dismissed, for that is what we do: dismiss awareness, dismiss warnings, dismiss danger. 
The great god Oblivion steps in, blinding us with ego, false needs and instant gratifications.  With comfort. 

It concerns me though. I'm the ferocious salmon that swims against the current, giving my life away to place those eggs in my natal river.  Wonderful life--that of the salmon.  Being born in the river, living it's life in the ocean gaining body mass, to then return to the exact same stream they were conceived.  Swimming their life away upstream, spawning their eggs for the next generation.  Creating a new life cycle. 
I swim upstream, hitting hard currents running in the opposite direction.  
I swim "awareness", the river runs "oblivion". 

Sometimes i feel like Truman, in The Truman Show. I've been thinking about that movie a lot lately. Not the best of movies ever to exist, yet respectable. Poor Truman blind to the manmade world he is living. Of false identities, false energy flow.  All created, all controlled, a manmade God--so far from spirituality, ritual and faith-- the enterprise called God, praising the dogma of ambition and power, to its bitch: Money. 
Poor Truman, shouting to live, yet confined to limits he does not understand. Poor Truman searching for himself, while he stands between phonies almost carrying name tags to assure others (and reassure themselves) who they are.  By the cars they drive, the people they talk to, the clothes they wear, the jobs they have, and worst: feelings they feel. 
Poor Truman not understanding a thing. 
This Truman has travelled through history: the cavemen of Plato's Dialogues, Segismundo from Lope de Vega's Life is a Dream, Shakespeare's Hamlet..to mention some. 

Yet it's become fiction.  A movie.  "Oh poor Truman" we say. 
And yourself?

Things are moving.  They are constantly moving. 
Change means cracking, opening, tearing, dissolving, but also opportunity, development, creation, new. 
"What do i do with all this?", i sometimes get overwhelmed. 
Keep swimming. Not swim for others.  Swim my river with all my might. Know, trust, there are others on my side.  There is more to come. 

The death of the salmon has important consequences. The impact they have on other life is greater than what they would have expected in relation to their biomass. It means significant nutrients in their carcasses, rich in nitrogen, sulfur, carbon and phosphorus; which are transported from the ocean to the terrestrial wildlife such as bears and woodlands adjacent to the rivers. The nutrients can also be washed downstream into estuaries where they accumulate and provide further support for estuarine breeding birds. - 
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salmon_run

“This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem.”

Preface to Leaves of Grass, -Walt Whitman (1855)

Having time to myself, time to me, for me: 
My thoughts, my feelings, my breath. 
My doubts, for tides of desperation, the burning feeling of impatience and anxiety.
For melting-heart-moments of tenderness and baby smells.
For the terrifying-shaking instances of insecurities, and the painful occasions where I find myself lost, alone.  

 Stillness can bring so much insight.  In a world where movement is becoming a definition of action and productivity, i can now say--from experience-- that it's not necessarily true.  
Experience.  There is only so much that can be understood through theory, study.  Experience adds the "heart-beat" element, the key ingredient that makes it all bind together.  Just as our bodies: the heart pumps and blood circulates, making it all follows its course. 
The image that comes to mind is that of someone whose lost its breath, and suddenly with one thump at its chest, grasps for air, inhales to the last corner of its lungs...comprehending breath.  Comprehension. 

I'm right there.  Grasping for air.  My body laying horizontal, mouth open, tracheae expanding, diaphragm rising, conveying air to my lungs. Back and neck back-bending smoothly.  Eyes open. Ribs expand, lungs full.  
Expiration, exhalation.  
Breath.
Tears.  

I'm right there.  The basic.  The essential of life.  
Experiencing, comprehending and being witness of change--for this breath might be similar to that of a new born, but not the same. Not the same for i'm not new, my vulnerability lies somewhere else, i have history. 
As much as i believe that we come to this world not new, but continuing a journey that started long before this century, this is another awakening...a new color of participation. 

Walt Whitman suggests life participation so beautifully. 
I call for a life of comprehension, not understanding.  It's the world of ideas and world of experiences colliding.  
Action.

Relationships

Relationships.  
Wow, what a thing to talk about. Where to begin? What do i really want to say about relationships?
I guess my starting point should be that we can't live without them, that we are social creatures and that it would be completely cynical of me not to consider relationships as part of life. 
Another point to be made is that there is no judgement.  No such thing as an ideal relationship, a better or worse relationship. It's a tough one--the judgement issue. We are all different, we all build different dynamics.  What we CAN do is stay away from harm, violence, negativity, insolence and impertinence. 

Whether we want it or not, we have been (and still are) raised and taught that things must be "estimated".  Not esteemed. Placing everything and everyone under the measuring stick, regarding it all as a profit? a benefit? a loss? A bargain. This economic system has percolated in, unto our emotions, our feelings and our relationships.  In addition, I perceive mainstream economy leading us toward futile-instant gratification.  
I was having an interesting conversation with my talented brother this morning--over breakfast-- about the difference between gratification and satisfaction.  Recognizing how "the system" has us fooled thinking we have infinite necessities and a lack of resources to satisfy them.  We discussed about new theories on breaking down such paradigm.  We don't have innumerable necessities.  As a matter of fact we have...9? Let's not even get started with our resources.  (wanna know more, read Manfred Max-Neef, among others)

You've got it all wrong Mr. Capitalist. Your dollar God is not so supreme nor bountiful, and you're ambitious extirpating drive is rooted on make-beliefs. Unsubstantial. Gray. Very much finite, limited. 

I hit pause on my cassette player.
Can i just quickly mention how much i miss cassettes? Everything was so simple. Play, stop, rewind, fforward, pause, rec. Placing little pieces of scotch-tape on the corners if you wished to reuse them. Worst case scenario: the tape would get tangled and with a pen you'd have to roll it in again. Nothing like opening a brand new cassette, read the little booklet with lyrics or pictures.  Nostalgia. 
Now it's all download, in a "cloud" somewhere, no tangible experience of what is being played. No saving your little pesos to head to the music store and buy a cassette.  And blank cassettes! To record songs from the radio, or yourself! I'm from the era of cassettes, i can only imagine those that are from record players.  
End of interruption.

It's all related though. The more i sit and give myself the time to reflect upon things: feelings, thoughts, dreams, doubts--even trivial things such as cassettes and nail polish-- i realize that it's all intertwined. And it all leads me effortlessly to the same place.  All roads lead to Rome, eh? All leads me back to simplicity. The simple, the honest, the easiness, the tranquil, the sensible. 
I've learned a few lessons these past days on relationships.  Relationship with myself, my relationship with others, others relating to others. 
A web of connectivity, and relevance for the world we want--for ourselves, for those we see, for those far away, for our children, and for those which we will never meet.  At least not in this life cycle. Because it's all one. Violent energy on this side of the world will most definitely affect far and beyond. 

It's overwhelming, i know.  At least i feel it at times.  But then i'm reminded that it all starts at home.  Remember simplicity, honesty, small. 
"Be sensible with yourself, with the energy you're creating or you're latching on to", i tell myself. 
This is an amazing act of honesty and a challenging exercise of awareness. 
Energy. Energy flow: giving and receiving.  It's pretty much all in our hands.  
"I won't hang on to your destructive energy, I will not be a part of it."  
Hit stop.  
I'd better spend it on creating.

Side B.
"I feel this inspiring, loving, nurturing energy.  I am with you." 
 Play. 

Love & Light,
Fía.

Remember

The signs of the Universe. 
I believe in them.  Or better I should say i believe in the order of things.  Because there is always some order.  Sometimes not apparent, sometimes not necessarily logical (at the moment), sometimes hurtful and sometimes so deliciously appropriate. When that happens--the "appropriate"-- the feeling of clarity, ease and overpowering energy hits you, making it all come together. 
Like Tetris, when you are placing those ridiculously shaped figures side by side, on top of each other..and then...there it comes! the perfect piece and BAM! you get rid of 5 rows in a second.  

Wow, how profound is Tetris? You observe, you perceive--keep your eyes open!-- let's cease the fluctuations of the mind, lets stay focused, aware and "on it". 
Juggling little pieces, still "driving the car": where shall i place it? How? Mistakes are made, we see ourselves pressed with time...then the right piece comes our way--can we see it? And boom! it fits just right: 5 rows, weight off!
Ha...breathe! 

Tetris is just an example, there are thousands of examples. In fact, most of our activities are an example of life (sports, hobbies, rituals included).  So what does it all boil down to? 
Play. 
Play with eyes incredibly open.  Play with consciousness, play with effort, play receiving and giving. The player is essential, as are the rest of players, AND where the game is taking place. 
Play.  Not the same as compete. 
Play. Not the same as win...or lose.
Play. Not the same as cheat. 
Just play. 
                         (Hmmm...the role of theatre and play.  Something to ponder on)

I also think of yoga.  Again--as always.  Where does it all begin? 
Where does the practice (what I'm calling "play") begin? 
The 5 YAMAS (relationship with the environment/others).  
ahimsa: non-violence/consideration of others. Not necessarily meaning plain kindness.
satya: truth, communication, appropriateness.
asteya: not stealing
brahmacarya: moderation, balance.
aparigrahah: non-grasping, non-greediness.

Don't these sound like rules to a game? A beautiful game.  

How does the player play? 
Aha! Yoga: 
The 5 NIYAMAS (relationship with yourself)
sáuca: cleanliness
samtosa: contentment--appreciation of where you are, what you have. Forget "greener on other side"
tapah: effort, action, purification.
svadhyaya: study, self-study, reflection, inquiry.
isvarapranidhanani: offering, surrender, light and sacrifice. 

I find it spectacular.  I find it so lucid, so healthy and magnificent. This is what i believe in, this is what wakes me up every morning.  These supreme principles that transcend it all.
They dance and swirl and rise beyond everything. 
Beyond what might rob us our sleep, rob us from our dreams.  
Exceeding the "measuring this, measuring that", win or lose. 
Up and above expectations and judgement. 

I need reminder, we all do.  
I feel taken by the currents of what is moving the world today. I can see it, I fall into it, I struggle with it, give in...then come afloat-- but it's coming clearer and clearer: competition, pushing, violence, steering towards greater and bigger.  
Than what? To what? I ask. 

I need reminder.  That is what i wake up to every morning. 
Remembering, remembering. 

No shame, no more. 

Fía. 

Special.

I want to dedicate the day to art.  The art of life, the art of creation, the art of mystery and the art of science.  For me, there is nothing closer to perfection (though i highly recommend staying away from the thought of perfection)....so let me rephrase: For me, the best example of intelligence, order and harmony is nature.  
As i experience the daily battle between light and dark at the crack of dawn, i sign with admiration.
As i perceive the colors pop as rays of sun bathe the city slowly, reaching my balcony and furthermore reaching me, i sign with admiration.
Whenever i take the time to stop, hear the birds around me, look at the trees, flowers, bees--and then my breath, acknowledge my heart beat and the liters of blood circulating through my system, i sigh with admiration. 
Admiration, respect, bewilderment, and a little nervousness. 
Why do i feel nervous? Because all of a sudden I feel a part of something larger.  Something that is beyond the mundane "stuff".  Stuff that sometimes fills with dirt what is already so clear to begin with. The quotidian issues that we enlarge and then make-believe are essential (or worst) catastrophic. 
I feel nervous because i'm all of a sudden submerged in the dimension of miraculous, divine, magical and superb. 
And it's not just me.  There is nothing special with me, particularly.  I am special, just like every living form of this planet--and the planet itself-- is absolutely unquestionably special. 
It's also a little frightening, yet exciting, how there is so little "me" in this big picture. The world is not at MY hands, nor there is anything I can do to mess this world up.  For I am special to begin with, and me being here is already a plus. There isn't much i can control...just like i can't decide for my internal system to shut down whenever I want. Nor can i ask the sun to please come up an hour earlier today or for the moon to be full for a whole week. 
It's liberating and frightening. 
It's also, personally, very challenging: for my habitual patterns are not necessarily speaking to me--about me-- in terms of special.  
But i am beginning to believe it; and furthermore, i AM beginning a journey towards self-respect, care, protection and love. With myself, for myself. 

So how special are we? 
An example:
My sister and her husband just brought to this world an amazing, profoundly admirable, a gem of a creature into this world. They did it.  They actually did it. 
You know, it started with an act of love, later a heartbeat, then a little fish of a creature, and a vertebrae, eyes, organs, extremities. My sisters body shifting, expansion..then expulsion! and this new being, a new star is with us.  She breathes, she beats, she feels and dreams.  But they actually did it. It happened. It happens every second, every minute somewhere. 
What about the batting of our eyelashes? It requires no thought, effort, just the intelligent response to moisturize our black-brown-greens-blues- whenever necessary.
That's art.  We are artists. 

So today i feel touched by this perception of me, us, all. 
It's no coincidence I feel this way after watching incredible videos by incredible beings.  Some still walk upon this earth, some have left (or returned). 
Embrace the magic, embrace the science, embrace our art.


              **Anis Mojgani (poet) - 

                      ** This is just one little glimpse of master Schumacher.  I encourage further
                            watching/listening/reading**