Mexico City Vignettes (Summer 2013)

Somewhere I have 350 pesos left over from my last trip to Mexico City, but all I can find is 6 peso coins. Tomorrow, I need to get from the airport to the Zocalo via the Metro. Tengo 6 pesos. it. just. might. work.

Flying in, volcanic ash fills the sky for miles around. Descending now, the sky clears and there she lies: endless structures surrounded by mountains, in a bowl of green foliage. And we touch down in clear light of morning.

Hotel Washington Interior

A day that started at 3:30 am in Dallas ends 20 hours later and a thousand miles away, and I've officially walked and backpacked myself to exhaustion in the time between. What dreams will you show me tonight, Mexico?

Palacio de Bellas Artes

View of the Palacio de Bellas Artes at night, on the corner of Eje Central and Avenida Juarez. It marks the transition from the chaos and grime of the Centro Historico into the culture and refinement of Alameda Park. The sleaze of Plaza Garibaldi and Langunilla market, though only a few blocks to the north, seem worlds away. Artist types lounge and chat out front, jazz and rock bands play for coins across the street, and lovers make out on the marble steps.

Lagunilla Market Side Street

Side street in Lagunilla, massive and chaotic indoor/outdoor market on the north end of the Centro Historico. Tepito, the "thieves market" is just to the east, and Plaza Garibaldi a few blocks south and west of there.

Little Dog, Big Bone, Centro Historico north of Zocalo

All along the dirty streets and endless corridors of Lagunilla market, blown by the cool breeze, on into Plaza Garibaldi,stray dogs and mariachis wander aimlessly, in search of a song, or someone to listen.

Mariachis on Eje Central

What do mariachis do when they're not playing? They stand around looking cool, that's what they do.

Ecobici Ride

Riding the Ecobici (public bicycle) along the bumpy stone streets of the Centro Historico and back roads past the Palacio de Bellas Artes on to Reforma. Vehicles are everywhere and I sometimes found myself going the wrong way against traffic. No worries though, it just flows.

 

The Angel on Reforma

This evening I rode the public bike from the Angel on Reforma in to the Centro Historico and back. I have to admit it is a thrill to zip past and through all the traffic stuck in gridlock, cool air rushing by, all the while ringing the little bicycle bell.

Lago Chapultepec

Lago Chapultepec. Peaceful scene, while just off camera hundreds of vendors hawk their wares.

 Avenida 5 de Mayo, Tepoztlan

Today I travel to Tepoztlan, high in the semi-tropical mountains, about 50 kilometers south of Mexico City. It is the home of Tepoztecatl, ancient god of pulque and creativity.

Pyramid at top of Tepozteco

Wow, I made it to the top of Tepozteco. It was a heart pounding one hour hike up the mountain, but worth every minute. The view from the pyramid of the valley below, the nesting vultures calls echoing through the canyons, and a surprise feast day parade with fireworks when I descended back into town. Exhilirating! And now I'm beat.

Bells in Tepoztlan Church Courtyard

These are two of the bells in the courtyard of the Templo de la Natividad in Tepoztlan The inscription on one said 1831. Workmen were high above, repairing the bell tower.

"Barra!! Barra!! Cho-co-la-te'!! Milky Way!! Cinco, cinco, cinco pesos!! Cho-co-la-te'!!" The CD salesmen, with the blasting boombox speaker backpacks, haven't sold a single disc in all my Metro rides. The chocolate seller, on the other hand, is cleaning up.

Cathedral Door

Mysterious, small leaded door, front facade of the cathedral, right at its center. Where does it lead to? What is its function? Maybe it's a janitor's closet, lol.

Cleansing ritual from the indigenous woman at the back corner of the cathedral. Charcoal smoke blown from a wooden censer, a whisk made of fresh herbs, and scented oil. When she finished, she looked at the eagle tattoo on my arm, then into my eyes, and pointed to the sky, saying "fly".

 Terrazo, Mexico City

Sitting on the enclosed terrazo, I take in the sounds drifting in from the sky above: children singing, helicopters chopping the air, a droning church loudspeaker voice, whistles, the man yelling "Gaaaaass!" door to door, birds chirping, morning rituals, dogs barking, the pulse of dance music through the walls, a whole world in sound.

Riding on the Pasero, or Microbus

Riding on a pesero, or microbus, with my friend Berta, going to visit her gallery, in an ex-convent private university near the Centro Historico. The microbus, which covers the back streets, costs 4 pesos, whereas the larger red buses on the main roads are 6 pesos.

     I stood on the side of the road at Hangare, the last Metro stop before the airport, watching traffic whizz by for 3-4 minutes straight, without a single break, before realizing this road cannot be crossed, and held up my hand for a taxi.

Spring into Summer 2013

The last few nights waking at 3:30 am, I decided to sit out on the balcony porch and meditate. Sitting in the cold air watching my thoughts, the sensations of anxiety and exhaustion arise, then dissipate gradually into calm and emptiness feels empowering. Now I look forward to this middle of the night wakefulness. (04.03.13)

Coming to a deeper understanding of my work in regard to the deconstruction of iconographies and how it relates to my spiritual life. Buddhism is all about the investigation of perception and the realization that all our symbols and forms of meaning are provisional and constructed from a deeper perceptive reality. Looking back on twenty-five years of consistently exploring this in my art makes me think I was Buddhist without even knowing it at the time. (04.07.13)

Thinking back to a few years ago, without internet and driving the streets looking for a wifi connection, sitting in my car or else walking down the street 'til a signal popped up, then composing portentous emails charting and diverging my life's course there in the dark. (04.08.13)

So this art student brings his submission to the gallery for the student show, and asks me, "can I price it at one million dollars?". Gesturing at the gallery around me, I reply, "no, does this look like a comedy club?". Jokers. (04.09.13)

Love or fear, love or anger, love or hatred, always an opportunity. It often feels like I get a second, a third, a fourth chance, and with each repetition, the hope to act with more wisdom and compassion than the times before. (04.15.13)

Beginning dream yoga practice again. The chakra visualizations during the night are difficult, but rewarding. There is a greater mindfulness or presence in sleep, rather than the feeling of being lost in another world. A recognition that is not so different from the daytime, of the mind generating images, content, and meaning, just as it does in waking life. (04.16.13)

When one has a strong opinion on something, no matter what it is, the mind works in such a way, to interpret information that reinforces and confirms that opinion. The more difficult, but potentially more freeing option, is to maintain a mental state open to multiple overlapping possibilities as they occur. Engagement in creativity can help generate such a state. (04.20.13)


When I'm feeling stressed out, and investigate a little more closely, I find that much of my stress is self created. I also find that the stories in my head that generate the stress are just that, stories. Then I am able to clear my head, be present, and experience the situation in a more open and realistic way. (04.25.13)


Mockingbird is back at it, taunting the tom cat. It seems to really be enjoying this. Cat finally leapt up and tried to grab it, but was way off the mark. Fun little game they have going. (05.10.13)

Fireflies at dusk. (05.13.13)

"Rigid view" is something I catch myself on frequently. I like to think of the mind like clay that we can soften and mold whenever it becomes stuck and resistant to change. (05.22.13)

Smiling as I watch two dudes in a west Texas beer cooler swimming pool bromance. (05.22.13)

All is a temple, if one can see it. (06.01.13)

Any moment can be holy, if it is entered into with complete presence, or mindfulness. Literally any action or circumstance, no matter if it be ordinary, blissful, or horrific, becomes sacred with full and present attention. Allen Ginsberg knew this, I hope to learn it too. (06.07.13)

Wild morning... seven starlings are up in the broken tree, reading the riot act to the neighbor cat, who's exploring the fallen branches down below. He already caught one bird in the bushes earlier, and when I leaned out from the balcony to take a look, a yellow jacket wasp stung my hang when it strayed too close to their nest. Must have only been a warning sting, as it didn't hurt for long. (06.09.13)

In my dream, I was running in an open field with a giant brown bear. We jumped in the air, spinning back to back, three or four times like ballet dancers, our feet entwined, lost in the joy of life. (06.11.13)

Traveling can be a great opportunity to wake up, as it takes you out of your routine, helping to see things with fresh eyes. The strangeness of the human condition: clothing and customs as a form of identification, the disparity between those who have and those who don't, television as a catatonic distraction, the comforts of your own routine. The collective nature of our endeavor making internal modifications on our behavior at all times, whether we are aware of it or not. (06.15.13)

Walking back streets of Chicago last night, reflecting on the (mis)adventures of days gone by on those same streets, and thinking how it feels distant yet familiar, like a well worn book. (06.15.13)

Shooting the shit with Pedro Vélez at the Gold Star in Wicker Park. We watched kids shooting pool and caught up on things. He showed me the narrow alley leading to his old pad and talked about how quickly the once quiet neighborhood has changed. (06.15.13)

Mint infusion. (06.24.13)

Summer early evening traffic heat bleach blonde long hair skinny chick lookin' dude rocking out to metal air drumming on the steering wheel as he rolls by. (06.26.13)

One of my favorite things is dancing to the "Ice, Ice, Baby" theme at the self-serve ice stand. (06.28.13)

Revolution is a state of mind. (06.30.13)

Sitting in my car, won't start, late afternoon sun. Waiting on a good Samaritan dakini to show up and give me a push start. Birds chirp, desert plants reach to the sky, and I lean my seat back. (07.02.13)

Winter 2013 (Austin, Dallas, NYC, Ozarks)

 

The Little Things (01.04.13)

The little things: the taste of a fresh crisp apple, an extra long hot shower, pure water drunk from a glass, snuggling tightly under warm blankets, a deep breath of fresh air, the thought of something tasty, like chips and guacamole.

The Gray Areas (01.05.13)

Stark choices of good and bad, right and wrong, me vs. you, these are places where the ego thrives, as they reinforce the illusionistic nature of separation in a closed system. More subtle are the grey areas, the ambiguities, where oppositions meet, blend and become open to new possibilities. However we choose to see things, our experiences of reality are generated by our own perceptions.
 

 

The Heart is a Bloom (01.06.13)

So I'm sitting there, complaining about being sick, and how it upends everything in your life, and blah, blah... when out of the blue, Noah sends me a text saying: "the heart is a bloom..." Boom. Owned.
 

Getting Naked in Public (01.18.13)

Wondering when getting naked in public will be a socially acceptable form of getting naked in public?

Laying in the Grass (01.21.13)

Studying prana (life force) teachings in yogic traditions and decided to put it to practice this morning. They state that we gain life from the sun, air, and earth. So, I lay down on the grassy earth at the S. Austin farmhouse, in the warm sunlight, breathing in fresh air for ten minutes, relaxing and absorbing the energy. I got up refreshed, relaxed, and feeling better from the sore throat that has been threatening to get me sick again.

 

Back to School (01.24.13)

Today in class I asked my students, "What activities feed your imagination?". Their responses included: concerts, music apps, dancing, playing sports, video games, commentary, movies, and poetry. All good answers, I thought. When I was growing up, the standard answer was sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll. I'm thinking maybe I can learn something from these kids.

Scat Singing (01.31.13)

 Scat singing on my way in to work and thinking of my long ago art teacher Denny Fraze. A hep kat drawing instructor in sport coat, khakis and combover, counting the minutes 'til his next cigarette break. Scat dat diddley bop ba do.

 

The Bees (02.07.13)

Watching the bees buzz excitedly, feeding on the fresh rosemary blossoms downtown. It happens this time of year, every year, yet always feels fresh and new, like seeing it for the first time.

Year of the Water Snake (02.11.13)

What do I bring to the new year? I hope, an appreciation for the transitory and groundless quality of all experience. There is nothing to be grasped, even as we pass through everything. To let go of static identities (no matter how gratifying) and let myself free fall into an unknown future with an open heart.

Street Fight (02.13.13)

I walked through a sprawling fight this afternoon on Columbus Circle. More bravado than bloodshed, young guys tangled on the sidewalk, then up and offering threats in lieu of fisticuffs. "I'm coming back, alright, and when I do, I will light this place up."

Career Day (02.22.13)

This morning was Career Day at my daughter's school. As the kids stopped by the table and looked at my art, one little girl (about 10) told me a story that really opened my heart. She said, "My daddy's an artist. He's been in prison for 8 years, and always sends me his drawings. For my birthday, he made me a drawing of Tinkerbell with my name under it. He's my inspiration." She said all of this with a bright, confident smile. I tried hard not to cry, as I recognized what an inspiration she was, and gave her a great big smile in return.

Letting Go (02.23.13)

Letting go of notions of fixed identities, opening a glimpse into the freedom and vastness of sunyatta, the void. Passing through these existences, vast landscapes of interconnected experience, and the exhilaration of holding onto none of it: the excitement, the ambitions, the lusts, the vertigo, the dull aching pains and disappointments, the weariness and lack of sleep, and most of all the joys and connections of open and compassionate hearts colliding in a chaotic world.

Challenges (02.27.13)

Every day I see the challenges and obstacles that have to overcome to be successful in school. Tonight one of my students came up to me before class and said, "I may have to leave early tonight, my brother just got released from prison and needs me to pick him up." Truth is, there is no level playing field, but those who start with nothing also have everything to gain.
 

 

Leisurely Day (03.02.13)

I'm going to air up the tire on my bicycle, ride over to Kalachandji's for a delicious Indian vegetarian lunch, relax in the temple for a few moments looking at paintings of the pastimes of Krishna, and picture myself with him as he steals the clothing of the bathing Gopis, then find a green space with fresh air and sunshine, lie on the ground and bask in the freely given gifts of nature.

 

Ten Minutes Sitting (03.04.13)

10 minutes sitting: breath too shallow, fidgeting, can't get comfortable, a little space opens up, thinking about the day, of what people will think, a little more space, open my eyes in the darkness, a gap of no thought appears, it's a game, relax, don't try so hard, enjoy yourself. Ding! Bell rings.

Downtown Satori (03.08.13)

Downtown satori. Walking in to work, just after listening to straight up jazz on my drive, and musing on the fleeting nature of this body, my mind suddenly went completely empty. A land of no thought pure awareness opened up: the beautiful diffused light, an overcast morning chill in the air, band instruments playing in the distance, all the sensations open, vibrant, passing, gone, replaced by new ones.

  

Reflection (03.09.13)

Reflecting on the different roles at various points in my life: child, son, adolescent boy, young adult, man, married, divorced, single, boyfriend, lover, friend, enemy, Christian, agnostic, Buddhist, shaman, seeker, Republican, Democrat, Libertarian-esque, Southern, country, then city, student, teacher, artist, curator, father, brother, mentor, and so on.

Try as I may, I have never felt any of them to be a core permanent identity, as in "I am this". They feel more like roles I inhabit, albeit deeply felt ones, to learn and maybe help myself and those I love to grow.

Yet, they still feel like constructs layered over something more ambiguous and expansive, something richer, and not confined by notions of the self. That's what I want to get at.

 

Open Road (03.16.13)

Driving the open road with Noah, we settle into an easy groove of music and conversation. Hours pass, yet seems like no time at all before we pull in to our destination.

Morning (03.17.13)

Waking up in the Ozarks, beautiful landscape of my childhood. Sleeping with the window up, birds chirping, hours before sunrise. They're noisy little neighbors, but I didn't mind.

Vietnam Journal (Spring 2002)

(2 May 2002) The airplane flights were very tiring. Thankfully, in the airport at Inchon S. Korea, you could rent a shower for 1/2 hour for 8000 won ($6 US). It was well worth it.

I arrived at Noi Bai airport outside Ha Noi and took a taxi into the city at 11 pm. It was difficult to find a hotel, but the young man sleeping behind the locked doors awoke and let me in. Next morning I arose at 6 am to go back to the airport. Riding in on the minivan, I saw the plane lifting off, just as we pulled up to the airport, dohhh!

Map of Hué

The travel agent helped me to exchange my ticket for an afternoon flight, and I arrived safe and sound in Hué by 2:30. The next adventure was in finding my artist friend Lê Thừa Tiến. He had waited for me in the morning, so when I got to his house, he was gone...quite a comedy of errors.


After walking to the Hué College of Art to look for him, I walked back and plopped my bags outside his gate to wait. Some women workers were mixing concrete and rolling wheelbarrows up to the 3rd floor next door. Everyone looked at me, and some laughed and said "làm việc"(work)! 

The neighborhood where Tiến lives (and where the college is located) is in the Citadel, an ancient fortress built for the Nguyen dynasty in the early 19th century.

Randall - Thien Mu Pagoda, Hué

Later Tiến showed up, much to my relief. He took me to the family home where I am staying, and introduced me to an elderly husband and wife, An and Thao, and to their son Thinh who is about 30. Their home is beautiful, I have a room w/attached bathroom. The home has plaster walls, an open airy plan, and a wonderful garden all around the yard.

My adventures continue, I am happy to be with such a generous people as the Vietnamese, though I miss my family. They are very full of life and joy, even when working hard.

(3 May 2002) The last few days have been a whirlwind of activity. I have been working like crazy with two assistants to build the sculpture. It turns out the festival opens in two days, gulp!

But, it is good, since I have a plan and some good helpers. The two young men who work with me, one is 23, the other 32. They work (làm việc) hard and fast, but keep stopping to challenge me to arm wrestling contests.

Friends Showing Off

Tuesday we chose the site for my piece, which will be located on the river walk next to a main entrance (good luck!) We dug the foundation, made steel
(tron) supports, and poured concrete (be tong). Then Wednesday we laid two courses of bricks. Thursday (yesterday) we worked 3 shifts (morning / afternoon / evening).

Which is great, except Mr. Hien, the sculpture director loves to party! So at lunch we eat a big meal and drink lots of beer (bia) then we rest before going back to work. At 5 o'clock out comes more cases of beer. We drink, we talk and then more work.

My two helpers and I were about "three sheets to the wind" by then, but somehow we finished the brick work around 10 pm, singing songs and arm wrestling, as crowds of onlookers circled around us.

Randall - Carrying Water at Sculpture Site

Walking back to the family home where I am staying, late in the evening. It was a hard day's work, and I'm very tired, and as I walked across the river dam road, and down the street, I forgot which side street they lived on.

I searched in vain, looking for some familiar signs or stores. One was a 5-course snake restaurant, another a photo copy store. I walked and walked and walked . . . then I came to a sign reading 'Hué' with a line through it.

I realized that I had walked to the edge of the city in the dark (oops!), and turned around. By now it was around 10:30 pm (late here)and as I walked back I saw a sign and tried the side street... yes! In the darkness I found the family home at last and climbed over the locked gate.

With that I'll close the story for today.

Hué - Traffic at Night

(4 May 2002) Last night, Mr. An had gone to look for me (he is 65) - he walked (li bo) into town, and came back when he didn't see me.

This morning I apologized for not calling them.

Today, I am quite exhausted! But, one more days work, and my piece will be finished, I think. There is a large stone (da) to put on top.

Randall - Working on Sculpture

(4 May 2002) Finally I finished my sculpture...it is just as I had hoped, and many people stop to look.

An's wife Thao (she is 55) has let me borrow her bike. As I rode to lunch with the other artists at the hotel, I was hijacked by a wedding party along a side street!

They brought me in to the cafe where a young man was singing and an electric piano was being played. In moments I was swarmed by generosity: food, beer, friendship, it was very festive!

Randall Garrett - Seven Story Mountain
Public Sculpture in Hué, Vietnam
on banks of Song Huong (Perfume River)

(5 May 2002) Last night was the opening ceremony of Festival Hue. A giant performance with thousands of people attending. I will tell you more about that next e-mail.

Vietnam must be the most surreal and strangely wonderful place I have visited. Every moment is a new friend, and unexpected happenings...sheer craziness!

(6 May 2002)  The last few days have been alternately crazy and peaceful. The Festival Hué has the city insanely full of people and traffic at times, i cannot begin to describe.

But the performances are inspiring. Tonight I watched the traditional Cambodian dance troupe, and then the Hanoi water puppets performance (I saw them last year in Hanoi). The main show I wanted to see was cancelled tho' - the circus (xiec). I hope to see it in Hanoi.

 

Fishing Boats - Hué

I decided to park my bike and walk, as my ass was so sore from riding. By the end of the evening, my feet were every bit as sore! I took a back pathway, and rode a small wooden diesel-powered boat across the river to get back to the family house I am staying at. That was fun.

(7 May 2002) Today, I was invited by a new friend, a young 23-year old Buddhist monk named Trần Quốc Phương to visit his monastery, on the outskirts of Hue, called Chua Bao Quoc. It was founded in 1674. Phương joined the monastery as a novice at 11, and is now 23.

He is a gentle and kind young man, and showed me all around. Walking hand in hand he showed me the clean swept monastery grounds, garden sanctuary, and temple.

Tran Quoc Phuong at Langco Beach

(8 May 2002)

Last night was special, as I went with Thinh, the son of the family where I stay, and his friends to an Ao Dai (pronounced "ow-yi") fashion show on the bridge crossing the river.

Hundreds of young ladies wearing the traditional Vietnamese dress modeled along the runway across the bridge. It was on national TV here.

Festival Hué - Fashion Show on the Bridge

(9 May 2002)  I have been so worn out from all the craziness at the Festival Hué, that I took a detour yesterday. I rode my bike to Thuan An beach, about 13 kilometers (8 mi.) outside of Hue.

It was so hot, and I was lonely, but I decide to enjoy myself by walking in the waves along the beach. The beach was very beautiful and quite empty, save for a few fishing canoes and thatched huts. I ate prawn and drank warm beer over ice in a tiny lean-to cafe run by a family on the beach.

Randall - Thuan An Beach

I rode back mid-afternoon and am nursing a healthy sunburn, but it was worth the sights and sounds of the water, and farms along the way. Slowly passing over a bridge, past fishing boats, an abandoned Communist stage in a field, on lonely dirt roads.

This morning I met my Buddhist monk friend Phương for coffee, worked on some drawings, and then went with the symposium people for lunch on a boat.

Am trying to slow down a little and pace myself, so as to not collapse. I miss you so, and hope all is well.

 

Randall with Certificate at Guest Home

Dream Journal (abridged) - October

Indian Assassin Getaway

I am an assassin in India, escaping on a three-person bike with the two Indian men on my team. We have just completed a job and are escaping. Looking back as we peddle furiously on our bike, I watch as the townspeople chase us down the street. Getting away now, going down a steep hill, one of my accomplices says to the other, "why are we going this way?", to which he replies "because of this", and gestures as the ocean comes into view at the bottom of the hill, a cove with huge rolling waves. We ditch the bike on the muddy beach and head toward our canoe and stashed gear, ready to complete the getaway.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Desert Mountain Landscape at Night

Night time, I am on a mountainside in New Mexico. Moonlight creates a bright contrast across the rocky landscape, as I come out of the mountain retreat house to take a photograph. But, the moon sets before I can, and all is in darkness. However, my glasses reflect a small amount of light onto the ground, so I am able to see the beautiful rocks scattered across the landscape.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Runaway Train Pursued by Generals

 I am on a runaway train that some generals are trying to stop. They are on bicycles. From the ground now, I see the train running over them at high speed. They have heavy equipment which runs into the back quarter of the train and derails it, but the rest of the train barrels on. They have dug up a section of the tracks, but I know this will not stop the train. None of this has happened yet, as I flashed forward in time to see it. Returning to the present, the train is still barreling down the tracks at high speed.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Garbage Dump / Bliss Experience

Standing in a large hole in the ground, a garbage dump. I begin to climb out, over the trash, along a very steep ledge. As I continue along it, I look down at the ground far below, and start to lose my footing. Letting go of my thoughts and cares, it suddenly feels exhilarating. Moving nimbly, I come to the top of a sweeping hillside panorama, looking down across a giant dirt playground. I cross joyfully down the hillside in a looping arc, filled with bliss as I run with complete abandon.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Little Bolshevik Thugs

Night time in a small room of a larger building. As I move toward the door, a small Bolshevik looking guy wearing a cotton tunic, tiny gold-rimmed oval glasses and a floppy cap, blocks the entrance, flanked by two cohorts. He brandishes an open knife. As I try to move past them, he presses the knife against my chest, through the fabric of my shirt. In the hall now, with both hands, I grab him by the tunic and turning rapidly, lift him up against the wall. His knife falls to the ground. Reaching down, I pick up the knife and holding it, release him. Admonishing him, he and his two friends slink away into the darkness. I feel a little sympathy for them, at their failed thuggery.

 - - - - - - - - - - - -

Self-Immolation Guru

A guru is instructing devotees on self-immolation. He gestures to a small box-like kiln where a body is burning. Pulling it out, he sets it on the floor, in kneeling posture, still smoking and glowing ember like. I am terrified and realize I cannot do that. I kneel before the burning body in veneration, and notice a severed head behind it. The eyes are staring back at me, fully alert.