|El Mohon del Trigo, Sierra Nevada|
stone, landmark or turning point
Slang: a usually long and cylindrical amount of human
I promise you that this is not going to be an exceptional post. It’s just simple spit into the wind today. My husband inspired it and he sometimes calls me, “una psicóloga barata.” Nonetheless, I like it and who knows, you might find it useful.
Literal: boundary stone, landmark or turning point
Slang: a usually long and cylindrical amount of human excrement
It’s easy to get lost out at sea, in the winding slopes of the mountains, a humid rain forest, in the West Village of New York City where there are no perfect squares to mark the narrow back roads, while campaigning.
But even though it's easy to get lost out at sea, a fisherman returns every morning with fresh hope and a steel eye for how to return home. He knows that what wasn’t caught the day before does not determine what will be caught in the present moment and he knows about the power of a good mohón.
In a time when we are inundated with rapid information exchange, the powerful might of human invention and the spiraling confusion of a desperate economy—it is too easy to get confused about who or what to believe. How can we maintain hope and what is the right way home?
You must feel the pulse of irrationality at the core, like talking with John Nash, a paranoid-schizophrenic—where you are simultaneously being given insight into genius and insanity. You must see what I see, fear what I fear, scary times for us all.
That is life now and as we experience current events and struggle to navigate our daily routine and for some, survive—we must stop and spit into the wind:
I WILL NOT DIE AN ORDINARY CASUALTY OF THIS WAR!
DO NOT DIE AN ORDINARY CASUALTY OF WAR!
That is why I share with you the metaphor of fresh hope and el mohón. They go hand in hand and can’t be undone.
It means... if you are out there LOST and unsure of your priorities—
what’s really important,
who to follow,
when to start
Remember to look for fresh hope and el mohón— the critical landmark or turning point in your life that defines/BECOMES your inner compass. Find it, it is there.
El mohón is used in Spanish slang (they are very clever people) to describe a long and cylindrical amount of human excrement—in another words a terd. The irony is not void of hidden meaning. How often are we muddled, lost, surrounded by, our personal source raw, the core of our energy void—filled up with so much shit?
Other people’s voices. Baggage. Guilt. Regret. Judgement. Fear. Spin. Mind trips?
This is all confusion. Get rid of it.
Get rid of the shit and go home.
DO NOT DIE AN ORDINARY CASUALTY OF THIS WAR!
SAY IT: I WILL NOT DIE AN ORDINARY CASUALTY OF WAR!
Fresh hope and el mohón.
~For MVR, Obama and me.