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The Eternal Tourist

In my coming and going through life I have meet people, that unlike me, can travel unconcerned of schemes, places or schedules, they just go free as birds. When they tell me their stories I feel a combination of amazement and envy, because sometimes I wish I could be as carefree and leave everything behind like they do.

One day, some friends introduced me to Phillip, a South African brother that was in his one-year tour through the world. I had the opportunity to hear his stories and adventures that astonished me deeply. But what was more amazing for me was his life philosophy. He told me he started traveling the world with a plan of working six straight years to save money and then taking an entire year off for traveling. As he did it, the cycle became shorter until eventually it became his way of life.

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The Town of my Memories

Sometimes I wonder if we, as souls, choose where we want to be born?

If so, our parents are the obvious first aspect of the choice, but what about the place? I always have been grateful about the place I was raised. It was a small and quiet town, too small that you could walk it across in an hour and so quiet that roosters waked you up in the morning. The place was intimate. People knew each other well, all afternoons they pulled chairs outside their house and sat to enjoy the sunset and watched their kids play soccer at the street as part of the daily ritual of a peaceful life. Violence was an alien concept for the residents, something seen only in television, in a distant reality.

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The Sing of Freedom

The warm beams of the rising sun lighted the undergrowth that had grew claiming back the civilized soil of my backyard. I wondered how nature could chose a place surrounded by a brick-and-mortar walls and crowned with a wire fence as the place to seed life. Its depressive, I thought about how men turn the marvel of nature into a trashcan.

I sat to admire the misery of the workmanship of men when a visitor arrived. It was a crimson cardinal of bright plumage that landed elegantly on a tall branch of undergrowth and devoured the little fruits while sang a beautiful melody.

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I want Wings

When I was a child I was told, like many of us, the biblical story of Adam and Eve that basically explained how God created Eve from the subtracted rib of Adam. Furthermore I was also instructed about the concept of Heaven, that was depicted as a sky high place where everything is beautiful and everybody is happy. The purpose of our lives, as believers, is to make the right actions to be worthy to access Heaven in the afterlife, they explained.

Back then I resolved—with my childhood imagination—the puzzle to reach heaven. My reasoning told me that since heaven was a place high in the sky and the residents of heaven were mostly angels, I needed a pair of wings to fly over. But how I was supposed to get a pair of those feathered extensions and attach them to my back?

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Marital Affairs

Since the moment that Maggie and Ed met, they envisioned doing everything together. From hiking at the park, to the extreme promise of carrying the other’s ashes to that special place. Everything, but divorcing. In the moment Maggie held the glass high in the air and tossed it against the wall, everything changed. That night something broke, it wasn’t the glass that miraculously landed undamaged. It was their dying seven year old marriage.

Maggie and Ed stared each other wordless just like the first time they met, nine years ago in that birthday party of Maggie’s best friend, Alicia. Neither of the two had the courage to speak first, to confess that was enough of pretending, of lying, of hurting, of telling themselves that tomorrow will be a new day to forget about their problems and have a fresh start.

Another miserable lie.

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The tenth life of a Cat

“Get out! You lazy bitch!” The man yelled and the cat shot out dodging a whisky bottle that smashed at the doorway.

The old dun-colored cat refuged behind the dustbins across the street, watchful of her master reeling through the hallway until he slammed the door. Her deep scars whispered to her that this was the last time and the door will remain shut forever. The mulish cat refused to accept it and lingered for weeks in the outskirts of the property, hoping that her meows could soften the heart of her master and grant her a loaf of breath or a place next to the heater.

Her scars were right.

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Resolutions.

This is the time of the year in which most of us evaluate our personal year and set resolutions for the incoming year and failing to attain them are not news. But why?

In business, goals should be SMART, an acronym that stands for Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Realistic, and Timely. This time I want to focus in the measurement of our goals, because we tend to use the wrong metric…. What is the metric for success? How many of you can consider money as a metric for success?

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The Rented Room

The alarm rings at 5:55 am. The blinding incandescent light turns on. The bed buzzes and Sara, the Sexy Voice, counts down from five before retracting it into the wall. I roll to the floor. It’s not the hit but the cold tiles that finish the job of awaking me.

“Good morning,” Sara says empathically.

“G-good morning.” I yawn.

“Are you ready for another exciting day?”

I nod eyes shut and wave my hand to the camera at the top corner of the cramped room.

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Ecclesiastical Marketing.

Pope Benedict removal and Pope Francis ascension to Saint Peter’s throne might respond to many things orchestrating inside the Church. In my case, as marketer, I’m puzzled by questioning this as a marketing move to increase—or recover—adepts. So I wonder if Pope’s Publicist and PR may have shared dormitory with the publicist of Lady Gaga, Miley Cirrus or the Kardashian’s gang in one of the Ivy League Schools.

Why I’m saying this? Because the recent declarations of the Pope may win the young adepts but as most of the public relations, pre-written statements are subject to contradictions. Should Church be worried? I think in fact, yes, because jeopardizes faith dogmas in which their entire religion is built upon.

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The Movie of your Life

Have you ever been in a difficult situation, in the verge of a decision, in which you take an option but a faint voice in your head tells you otherwise and you ignore it?

All of us know the outcome of this, the feeling of regret of ignoring that inner voice that somehow knew the outcome and tried to dissuade us of our choice. Some people grant this divination powers to intuition, a sixth sense, divine intervention, you name it… but what if I tell you that those voices are our own? Produced by a version of ourselves in a different circumstance, a different place… deprived of space and time… would you believe me?

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