To Armenia, Salento

Identity, experience, world travel, nothingness

6/30/11 Armenia, Colombia

Identity, personality, these are all fake things, a result of the city, a result of modern civilization. Our 'progress' comes from identity and personality. We evolved and were wired for exploration and constrant pursuit--it is the authenticity that Sartre spoke of, but could not get at in a direct way because he was a sitting man of the city and cigarettes. Miguel spoke of constant challenges, constant struggles which require constant recovery--not just keeping the 'self' sharp. No, doing so much that the self is destroyed. There is no self, there is only nothingness--the great ninja master conquers nothingness, this is what is meant by conquering nothingness. Sartre said consciousness is nothingness, correct also. Buddhism has this as the central theme. We were wired to explore, to keep things real. When someone says travel is a form of escapism, they are expressing the growing pains of authenticity, or they are entrenched in an inauthentic form of behavior, and are clinging to the falsehoods of personality, identity, time, self, and others. Reflection that takes the self as an object is the genesis of this problem, and it comes from existential anxiety, or angst: we are afraid of our own freedom, and so we hide in things that are not us--identity, personality, personal history, perhaps language itself. Why do I travel? Indeed, I am escaping my past, indeed, I am escaping my identity, 'who I am,' indeed, but this is authentic behavior, it is primal and primitive. Those who kick and scream and 'want you back,'--'Maximin, come back to who you once were, you have changed, you are not your self,--it is the corrupted and unauthentic form. We are wired to throw ourselves into the abyss. There is a reason why fear immobilizes a man when he must fight--it is a form of sickness. And what do we do with fear? We settle down, we slow down, we give up, we forfeit the fight, we form villages, language, reflection, Relationships, computers, digitize love and existence, create supermarkets and checkout lanes, make men women and women men, until our fear has truly killed out souls, has truly killed the tragic indeterminacy of nothingness that is who we are. Who are we: we are nothing, we are nothingness, but it is the most sweet and exquisite, beautiful nothingness that you can have, that you are. We are what we aren't and aren't what we are.
I want to go to the mountains and visit the tribes, go to the jungle and be with the tribes. My excuses are time, language, resources, planning. Missing my flight. My real excuse, of course, is fear of losing my identity, fear of my facing my own freedom and my nothingness, my beautiful nothingness that is me.

A good ninja

Ninjitsu is a mastery of 20 elements. The greatest master, as he controls fire, water, and earth, among his 20, will finally conquer nothingness, he will be a master of nothing.

Yesterday afternoon, at Jairo Ivan's advice, I ran along the road which follows the river, past the military base, crossing the river, ascending the mountain, running along the gravel roads which led me into the deeper foothills. It was brutal and warm, and just after a day of cycling I could feel my legs changing. I did not run today, because I will train will Miguel tonight, and the legs are exhausted after 1.5 hours of brutal trails, ascending and descending.

Today is Tuesday--Sunday night I spoke with more humans, one in particular was fascinating, a student from Cali with family in Buga. Many have a similar background, many with the same opinion of Cali--too fast, too expensive, too stressful. Buga seems to be a balance between many of the values that define cities. Miguel says there is a wind current which run above the city, creating a positive energy.

Before the run, I stopped by Claudia's to pick up the Moraline's map, and I also took his lock. His bike was a return to a long lost love. He left her used and damaged, but in a good way. I could tell she enjoyed her being ravaged, a women ravaged by a good man, but suddenly left. She lie there against a wall, rust in certain parts, her panniers blasted by the sun and weathered beyond her lost youth. I opened her bags and looked inside. "Why did you leave me? Why did you give me away? Argentina? Colombia? Without me? He didn't use a handle bar bag, and he changed my grease as if he didn't trust me." "But you have been unfaithful in the past. Your rear hub, remember, remember what you did to me in California?" "But the past is the past. It does not matter. It does not make me who I am now." "No, it is who you are now, who I am now. You know this. I can't run from my past, and you cannot run from your past and into my arms. There is too much weight for me to carry, and I need to go alone." "You have found another?" "No, two. One I have already crashed, another I ride now, but it isn't the same as you." "Do you miss me?" "I miss you terribly and my heart is broken. It bleeds every day. It bleeds over the words I speak and everything I touch. I cannot eat. I cannot sleep unless I am exhausted. I am broken and ruined." "I am broken and ruined." "I cannot bear this any longer; I must take my map and go. You need some prolink on your bottom bracket screw. What he did to you, I cannot bear to know."

And so I said goodbye to Claudia as she listened to a velvet piano melody. I tried calling Miguel. He was away. It was then that I ran. It was then that I Miguel appeared as ate Isaac's sandwich. I was exhausted, but Miguel had gone out of his way to meet me, and the man is quite busy, between ninjitsu, English teaching, chasing girls, being chased by girls, advertising and marketing for restaurants, and leading the planet to a rebirth of cleansing decency.

I showered quickly, and by the time I arrived at the couch by the balcony, Miguel was there with two girls. One was quite stunning, one of his ninjitsu students, the other was a sweet girl, plump and dark skinned, oozing womanhood. We drank hibiscus tea and chatted and Clint came by with beer he had hatched just that day. He need a photo for his website, and so I shot multiple takes in the sun, with Clint topping the beer off with foam every few minutes. The resulting photo was beautiful, but the beer tasted even better. Due to my poor Spanish, Miguel wrote the advertisement, something along the lines of "After two of these you will be knocked on your ass. 7.9% ABV.

The two girls left, and Miguel and I went off to the next place, an anime styled bar, where the two girls who had just left were now waiting for us. Miguel told me of his friend who he had introduced to a girl he had known. The girl and the guy worked at the bar, and I could not pick up on any story. Instead of dating the girl for a few weeks, he became more distant to his friends. He became incommunicado and started making excuses, until one day they had a baby and now she runs his life. But she was a looker, I can understand his downfall. I spoke to Miguel about the project, how men must defend their projects and make the project one's center and a woman on a peripheral interest. We both delighted in this shared belief, and I reminded him how Moraline had awakened these ideas in me, how I once knew all of this when I was in my early 20s, Miguel's age. It then occurred to me that the create of language and culture is derived from the tiny actions of a few men who start small and are willing to fight for their ideas, as Moraline had begun to do several years ago after the near premature stillbirth of his spirit.

Miguel's ability to magnetize women is extraordinary. He seemed to know every woman he passed, all of them glowing and giggling, old and young. Later, after meeting with Alberto, I realized that a warrior must fight, even though he does not want death. If he does not fight, his skills will diminish. When caught in a battle, he will be unprepared and die. But if he continues to fight, he will eventually die in battle. A man must lose himself from his project, but he still must experience women to understand humanity. But the more women he sees, the greater the risk he loses himself from his project. There must be risk. One cannot live in one's fallen shadows.

Miguel spoke of wanting a son very soon, but he also spoke of his quest to go to Japan and se the master. And begin his dojo academy in Buga. As we walked together in the streets, the women greeted him. He spoke of girls who made bad decisions, who were wired incorrectly and chose bad men and stupid short term sex. He spoke of his disappointment in girls he had though special. If the past is the past, where is the deterrent for bad behavior? Are there no consequences? Women continue to fall for game throughout the world.

I met Miguel's father, and he picked up Diana, an exotic 17-year old (old by Colombian standards), and then Isabel, her heart broken by a boy she had been with for over a year who had gone to university and had gotten himself mixed up with bad people and drugs. Isabel's hearth was so broken that it was painful to speak with her. Unlike the other Colombian girls, she would only speak back in short phrases. Unlike the other Colombian girls, she did not look into my eyes, stroke my body, and laugh. She was too heart broken. But when we went out to dance, she came alive, and as we sat on the curb next to one another and shared a cigarette, with with aguardiente, I saw signs of life. .

Knowing a revolution was at hand and needing sleep after the long run, I invited the three up for some tea and some more aguardiente and beer for myself. It was 1:30 but Clint and Isaac kept the place open late for some other people.

In the morning, Miguel and I took two buses to Razo, where Ernesto, an elderly spiritualist, performed a spiritual audit on Miguel and then looked into the soul of my journey and told me I was a good man with a good heart and that I would be safe on my journey. He told me I had a good and open heart and I would attract similar people on my journey. He told me I should be with a companion on my journey, but I would be safe. He asked me if I had ridden a horse in Colombia.

Before we met Ernesto, one of Ernesto's assistants greeted us in a room where two other were already praying. An old black man prayed and chanted in a wise monotone, and I sat in a chair with my palms open, he touched my head and neck and hands with crosses and poured holy water on my head and neck. All my thoughts and decisions centralized, and I realized what I had lost and what I had gained. Miguel knew everyone in the house, and the women glowed and smiled at him. He brought an enormous jar of an herbal perfume Ernesto had instructed him to prepare on his last meeting. Ernesto instructed Miguel how to use it, how to put it on the dojo, his home, his farm. He warned him of Diana, to be careful around her. Night shadows, demons, how long do you want to live, but I am immortal, what a question? Demons and night shadows and serpents, and if you do not believe in demons and night shadows and black ninja, then why these scratches from my fights with demons? They are real there are warriors, and if you do not feel the battle, you are among the unliving. The great ninja is not the greatest warrior, he is the man who does the most good in the world despite his powers. He has the greatest intentions, and he will change the world. He has fought every demon, and he is alive because he does not know life and death anymore, because the serpent has crawled from his through, it is 10 meter long, and he has severed its head with his sword. He is immortal.

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Moraline might be right. It might not get better than Buga, but I remember Blagoevgrad, and how I thought it couldn't get better than Blagoevgrad, and yet I left it, I left it for the wrong reasons, I thought I need more money, I needed to finish a degree, I needed to become a billionare, I needed to change the world with all the money I would suddenly make trading. And while I learned more about modern finance by trading, my soul could not be fed by modern finance alone. Perhaps the philosophy had to wait and rest in the way it did. Perhaps my writing need to germinate. But did I really need to give myself to corporate America such a manner? Moraline is correct: I am working on someone else's project for my money. My values are not aligned.

After tonight's ninjitsu training with Miguel, I told him that Moraline and I speak a lot about projects, and I told him his project was an alignment of his values, and his source of money was aligned with his values. I practiced grappling, striking, blocking, choking, jumping, rolling, tumbling, walking on my fists, my fingers, standing on my head, flipping men. I learned how I would be destroyed in a battle. I told Miguel I must learn to run faster.

His students worship him and he commands great respect. One of his female students grabbed my water bottle, asked me why I only had a small amount of water remaining, and sucked the remaining water from my bottle, dry. Excellent game, darling. I apologized for not having more water.

As I said goodbye to Miguel tonight, I told him he was one of the greatest men I have met. People have come and gone in his life, but he has his own project and he needs the help of no one. Ernesto and his sensei guide him, but most importantly, he guides himself. He said goodbye very graciously, and he knew he had to leave me to sort these ideas, and to then move forward and see what is North.

Is Buga a perfect town? It depends on whether we are seeking cheap solitude, or seeking sights, experiences on the road alone, experiences with other humans, or experiences with situations strongly out of our comfort zones. Too much foreign, too much of the chase of spontaneity, too much of that, without reflection, without an account of experience, perhaps I cannot do that. Or perhaps is exactly the course one should pursue.

I related to Miguel how Chrome said I was a different person with E, how I agreed with Chrome, and how it made me think about who this Maximin guy is in the first place. I cannot chase women when there are night shadows chasing me, when I am afraid of turning around to see their menace, challenge them, fight them, and risk my desk in a battle with demons.