When you want something bad enough, there is no way you will fail.

I did it again, but it wasn't completely my fault.

I met somebody. A boy. I call him my friend, but I never exchanged a single word with him. 
He, on the other hand, had told me many things. 
Possibly, things very interesting. Things that would intrigue me, impress me, make me understand who he is and what brought him beside me.

But the thing is... I had my ipod in. 


Although I could have technically taken one earphone out, I was afraid I would lose my pace if I attempted to alter anything that would require me to mis-match the motion of my arms, which were in tandem with my legs. 


We met around 3km or 4km. I noticed him beside me every now and then. It wasn't until he passed me a water pack thingy from the Hydration Station that I knew we had a relationship. He got me through 16 fast kms. 


His pace was much faster than my usual pace, but as much as I slowed him down he sped me up. Each hydration station we took turns passing each other water. It was pretty steady until around 10km, when I began to have urges to slow down into a walk a few times, but I didn't. The urges passed in waves and I got over them with a bit of encouragement from my friend. He had dodged many runners ahead of us, always leaving a spot for me to squeeze in beside him, and if I didn't manage to show up in his peripheral vision he waved his hand encouraging me to find my place in the space he provided.

We did it! Jose, me, and Aleja after our races!

At 15 km the steep bridge in front of my friend and I was going to require some serious effort. He fully turned to me, for the first time, and moved his hand across his forehead, his heart, and then shoulders, in the sign of the cross.

I did the same as we began to climb the incline. I almost stopped, but his wave pushed me through the hill and soon enough we were on the decline. Once our pace steadied again he flashed me a  smile and a big thumbs up. 


He had taken his earphones out and was talking to me at this point. I'm completely clueless about what we were talking about but I kept nodding. 


I'd say half way through km 16 I started to feel it. The pain tingling throughout my entire body wouldn't pass this time. Every time he waved me into the spot beside him I waved him forward, encouraging him to move on without me.


It was kind of like a movie. He wouldn't give up, until we got closer to 17 km. The space beside him disappeared and I watched him slowly get farther and farther ahead of me. 


The next 4km lasted a lifetime. I had lost the connection between my body and my mind, and the only thing that I was sure that existed was a little flame that refused to be put out by the cool rain. I remember passing 18km and waiting for 19 km. It never came. And still, it never came. Maybe I wasn't actually moving...

Check. I was definitely still moving. 


Finally, far in the distance I saw the 19 km mark. QUE?!?! What!!! I swear the 18 km mark was 4 km ago!


The final kms of the race are solely a blur. All I remember is finishing. Completely unbalanced, I couldn't believe it was over. I didn't stop once, and now, it was over.

 Peaking through our uncompleted walls.

 The next project of mine. I think I'll stick with drawing for now.

At the Gran Colecta National for Un Techo.

The thing is, you are powerful.

The thing is, you can do what you want to do and you can be what you want to be. 


And when you want something bad enough, your mind and your body will get you there. 


When you want something bad enough, there is no way you will fail.


Because the potential of your existence is unknown. What you are capable of is only up to what you are willing to accept. So accept no less than what you want out of yourself. Accept no less than your biggest dreams. Test that potential, and don't give up until you are satisfied. And when you get there- smile. 


Because you're about to move that bar up again. 




<3

I deserve these blisters on my hands.

This wet, cold hair on my head has never felt so relieving. 


First, because the cold dampness is suppressing the pain of the sunburn on the back of my neck.


And second, because I'm clean and comfortable. 


I washed my hair twice in the shower to rid myself of the dirt, the sweat, and the distance from my usual state of comfort. And here I am, laying in my comfy bed under the soft light illuminating from the pretty lamp sitting next to me. 


While I felt the warm water cleanse my skin, I could only think of the fire and the little girl standing in the smoke with a small bucket of water trying her best to fight the blaze. I would ask her later if she knew why there was a fire. She replied with as much awareness as I. 


The fire was only in the background. Right in front of me was Wilmer. He looked up at me with tear stained cheeks, " Tu vas a volver el otro domingo?"


He was asking if I would be back again next Sunday. I replied with, "No."


But his eyes demanded more from me. I hesitated for a fraction of a second and felt the heavy weight of needing to support myself with an explanation hit the bottom of my stomach. 


"Porque la proxima semana yo estoy corriendo en un medio maraton... tu entiendes?"


He solely nodded and his eyes fell from my mine. My heart sank along with his gaze. I asked him if he was cold. He nodded again and I tried to warm his little arms with my hands.

Anhila (the little girl trying to put out the fire).

Wilmar.

 (must have taken a selfie :P)

Why won't I be back next Sunday? Well my boy... I paid 60 pesos to sign up for a marathon. I've always wanted to run one, and now that I have the opportunity to do one (and in Bogota!! 2 600 meters above sea level- talk about high altitude training!) I'm super excited.

I started questioning. 
Why don't I come back next Sunday instead?
Am I that selfish?
Am I there right now just because I want to say I went?


But, the answer was No.


I was there for Wilmar. 
I was there for  Jenny (a deaf girl- I had a small hand conversation with her today!)
For the brothers (one was named Poncho), 
and for Anhila. 


The reason why I was there today was because I honestly and fully wanted to be there. 
And I wanted to be there because they wanted me to be there.
I expect it of myself because they expect it of me. 


Not because I wanted to "say" I was there, or because I felt I "needed" to be there, or because some one "made me go." 


There's that argument about how people volunteer to fulfill themselves; to make them feel better about themselves. 


But I would like to propose a counter-argument.


As an individual:
I could not control who I was born as. I could not control where I was raised and under what culture and customs I was brought up under. I do not have control over what my country consumes or under what methods other countries produce. I do not have control over the fact that extreme wealth co-exists with extreme poverty. 


But that does not mean my actions are begging for opinions. 


That does not mean I have to devote my life to international development.


That does not mean I take blame or responsibility, because...

Earning blisters on my hands.

 One of the brothers.

 Un Techo T-Shirt.

I am a human and so is Wilmer. 
I am in an individual with my own aspirations and lifestyle, and so is he, and so are you.


We pick who's opinions in our life matter to us.
The people who mean something to us have opinions that matter to us, because their expectations of us become expectations of ourselves. 


Forget stereotypes, forget labels, forget borders.
Go out into the world and meet people who mean something to you; find opinions that matter to you, and shape the person you are into the person you can become. I expect you to.

Standing in line?

So the bad news is: I don't have any pictures. 


The cool news is: My camera fell into a waterfall while I was horseback riding in the Valle de Cocora.

With your cooperation, I will try my best to let you in on what's up.

I feel the need to actually talk a little bit about what I have been up to rather than solely what I'm thinking about, such as in all of my other posts, so:


(Personally, although I had the time of my life doing everything, It may be kind of boring to read, so I won't be offended if you skip over this one)


Photo One: A never-ending view of a cocaine farm... JUST KIDDING--> plantain farm (Too far? I hope I don't get in trouble for that...) located at La Finca de Morelia. 
Being from Saskatchewan, when I hear "farm", flat golden fields come to mind. But here, "farm" (finca), is more like what I would picture... a jungle. Funky trees with upside down banana-looking things, and in between- coffee plants!! :) I took a bean off a plant and put it in my wallet but I can't find it now :(

Photo Two: Standing in line for the Rapidos (a ride) at Parque del Cafe.
While I was standing in line, some complex ideas shaped into words. I'm thinking about including them at the end of this blog if your interested in reading them.

Photo Three: I'm standing on a "raft" (made of a few bamboo-like sticks tied together by some string) paddling with another bamboo-like stick at La Playa Alto. (Tall beach....?)
We hopped off every now and then and swam in the rapids. We pulled up to shore and walked two thousand miles (mas or menos) to a SUPER SIC waterfall! There we took a quick (freeeeeezing) dip.
Photo Four: ---------
This would be Valle de Cocora.... How sad :(

BUT, let's pretend that didn't happen! And now we have....


Photo Six: Chilling in (another) waterfall at the Termale de Santa Rosa de Cabal.
Natural hot springs: best thing ever. It's like a super mega giant hot tub, what could be better?


Photo Seven: I'm hanging on for dear life as I zip-line across Panaca.
Panaca is kinda like home- cows, goats, chickens, dogs, cats, you name it. They even have pigeons for display, how exotic...

Photo Eight: En buuuuuuuuus en Peirera!
No mentiras- I never took a bus in Peirera BUT I was there. Sorry, I'm sure this is only funny to me... BUT If you know a little bit of Spanish, this video is hilarious!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-RGzQv_rK2M&feature=related


Yesterday, I had the chance to volunteer with an organization que se llama "Bocalana."
If I could, I would do this every single day of my life. This organization cooks and prepares food and delivers it to the homeless people all around Bogota. 


You never know if you're going to end up on the streets. I heard a story that one man had everything. A regular everyday normal guy (lol if you know the vid) and one day he lost his parents. Lost in a world of alcohol and drugs, he ended up on the street.

Today, I got to participate in a march against poverty with Un Techo Para Mi Pais. 


And, I baked an Oreo- M&M cheese bake with Aleja! :)
(For Jose's birthday tomorrow)

Sorry, this post has been a little un-interesting, so if you have the time and any interest in poetry, I've included a message I would like to share: 


standing in line

Purpose. Position. Fate.

Those three things that wouldn’t wait

For me to take them off

To soak. To wash. To rinse

And ever since…

I can’t satisfy this ever-itching cough

At the back of my throat.

I thought about backing out

But such delineation is humiliation

When why we’re here, nobody knows.

When each word is so absurd

I wear and tear them like my clothes

And underneath, my naked figure

Uncomfortably holds this pose.

I’ve got two tickets in my hand

They're for the ride. But it’s more about my pride because,

If I split them down the seam

I’d be splitting up this dream

This steam, we work a lifetime for

That fogs up the only realistic war- this internal battle

This freedom that we flaunt

Not doing what we should, we're doing what we want.

Because sometimes, some of us realize

Nobody ever gets off.

Because sometimes, some of us realize

And catch this ever-itching cough

At the back of our throat

And no matter what we said, and no matter what we wrote

To get us here, mean nothing.

You could give one ticket to the kid eating off the street

But he’s hungry, and not you.

You’d be giving up your seat

Because half of what you got won’t get you anywhere

And giving half of what you got still won’t make things fair.

One more step forward, one look back

But this time you can’t see past the black

Because you’re so close to the front

And by nature, we’re too blunt

To turn around and leave the line

When everybody else around you- is acting fine.

Nobody gets off, but you’re still going to board

Because that’s what everybody else is doing.

Nobody gets off, but it’s something you can afford

Because that’s what everybody else is doing.

You want to try and ask why you’re there.

Why you’re waiting, and why you don’t care

About anything but the two tickets in your hand.

Why the person at your front and the person at your back

Aren’t mentioning the fact that…

Nobody Ever Gets Off.

One more step forward, one last look back

Purpose. Position. Fate.

Those three things that wouldn’t wait

For you to take them off

To soak. To wash. To rinse, so you could see them clearly.

And ever since…

You can’t satisfy this ever-itching cough

At the back of your throat.

At the bottom of your shoes.

In the first song on your ipod.

On the screen of your cell phone.

On the dash of your car.

On the keyboard of your computer.

One last step forward,

Because it’s your turn next.

On the words you never said...

We exchanged words for hours on end. He became my best friend in the whole entire world. He listened and understood me, and I couldn't help but listen to the deep and wondrous thoughts that traveled into my ear from endless lines of words behind words. I become fascinated. We fell in love.


The person I couldn't help myself from staring at. Why? That's something I couldn't tell you. The person who could have been just another stranger who happened to cross my path and simply become less than a brief second of my attention. Just another entity with his own existence completely separated  from all and anything that has something to do with me. 

Some wicked sic crazy art.

 By Salvador Dali, a Spanish surrealist born in 1904, Spain (my all time favourite artist)

 A picture of a friend I'm drawing :)

 A beautiful abundance of fruit.

But that's all he is. 


That's what hundreds upon thousands of "him"s are. Because we are (or I am) just a chicken. Caught up in myself, a little too proud to take a chance in the fear of rejection and embarrassment. Too scared to communicate the chemical reactions that occur within my head that become thoughts, but only that and never more because I fail to let them become existent in the external world. 


I went to some body c..h..a..r.. something.... I have no idea actually, but I put my hands on some metal plates and it created some picture of my body with multiple colours and an analysis of my being. The old man gave me some advice:

"Your thoughts don't exist until you communicate them. What you hold within your mind is a secret to the universe and only you can pull them into existence. Relax a little and express yourself; with this you have nothing lose. If you don't, you have everything to lose."



I walked away pissed off to be honest. He had said some other stuff about how I'm too scared about what people think about me.

But, later... this is about two months later... I realized how valuable this is.

There are many, many, many, many, many.... many things I could have, would have, should have said but I never did. To people who have no idea who I am or that I exist at all, and now will never have anything to do with my life. To people who I know or knew, who I love or loved, or who have made an important impact in my life.

Why do I let people walk away? Why I am so scared? Why do I let the question be :"Who's going to LET ME?", instead of "Who's going to STOP ME?"

I am scared. But I think (I think) we are all a little scared about what other people think. But why is that so important? We might be missing out on a whole lot...

Practice existing and embrace the beauty of communication. No matter what you have to say- someone will listen. (If nobody does, then I promise I will), because your thoughts deserve to be spoken, and that little thought might become a lot more. So always, always remember:



The words that hurt you the most, are the words you never say.