Dripping River Water


Indian Paintbrush March 3, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Maceo Cabrera Estevez @ 4:35 pm

You look Indian, the cab driver said.  

Yep, yep, I look Indian.  I’m Cuban, I told him.  

Cuban people are like Indians.  Look like each other, he said.

I had a vision or a dream.  I can’t tell which is what sometimes.  I was in India.  It was hot, I had braids.  Sweat ran down my body.  There were lots of colors, lots of women.  I was purging.  I wrote to my friend who lives in India that I think I need to go there.  I’ve never wanted to go to India.  My uncle went once to see his guru.  My friends have gone.  I have some friends from there.  I like the food and the customs but I never thought about going to India.  Then there is that vision.  That dream.

I am cleansing right now.  Cleansing from so many things.  I’ve been told that when I was born everything bad and everything good from my ancestors was planted into me.  But that happens to everybody, right?  I am not that special.  Perhaps because of our histories it manifests in different ways.  I’ve been told this several times by several different healers in several different ways.  I’ve been trying to purge this old stuff, this stuff that is not mine for years now.  Each time I feel lighter.  Is it so big that it won’t fully come out?  Or will it just always be there because my ancestors will always be with me so I have to learn how to move through it?

I am on day three of cleansing.  I am not even drinking coffee.  That is a big deal.  I am Cuban, I’ve been drinking coffee from the bottle.  I just don’t want to hold on to anything anymore.  Not anything that is unhealthy.

I had a falling out with a friend.  I was really upset for a few weeks.  I haven’t been angry like that for a long time.  I felt guilty about being upset because I am supposed to be all spiritual and stuff.  How could I shut down like that?  I am still learning.  Still growing.  I was upset with her and couldn’t talk to her because I was so angry that I wouldn’t make sense and yell.  I don’t yell.  So, I silenced myself and cut off any love.  I am trying to figure out how to do things differently, cutting off love shouldn’t be one of them.  One day it just came to me.  It doesn’t matter what she does, I am not in a place to accept her for who she is.  How do I accept people for who they are, love them but understand that they can’t be fully in my life?  I watch my teachers and hear how they handle things and everyday I learn from them.  It will take time to incorporate the teaching into my life.

We need this rain in Oakland as much as I need this cleanse.  I am constantly at a state of starting over with the new tools I have learned.  I told the cab driver that I am applying for a writers residency in India.  In the south, he’s from  the north.  He invited me to his farm.  Told me I could stay there for free, I will be fed, people will treat me right I could be with the animals and the trees.  He tells everyone this and no one has taken up the offer.  Maybe I will have the opportunity to take it.  I just can’t wait to purge in India because the tickets are so expensive.  I am cleansing here enclosed in my paradise waters painted room.  One of my healers told me I should find some flower essences to help me in the process.  She told me that something will pop out at me.  I chose two.  One of them is Indian Paintbrush.

the end.


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