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حكمة مذكرات مغترب “بَسْ دقيقة”


Posted by Marivel GuzmanOmar KaremMay 11, 2011 AKASHMA NEWS- GAZA CITY

كنت أقف في دوري على شباك التذاكرلأشتري بطاقة سفر في الحافلة إلى مدينة تبعد حوالي 330 كم، وكانت أمامي سيدة ستينية قد وصلت إلى شباك التذاكر وطال حديثها مع الموظفة التي قالتلها في النهاية: الناس ينتظرون، أرجوكِ تنحّي جانباً. فابتعدت المرأةخطوة واحدة لتفسح لي المجال، وقبل أن أشتري بطاقتي سألت الموظفة عن المشكلة، فقالت لي بأن هذه المرأة معها ثمن بطاقة السفر وليس معها يورو واحد قيمة بطاقة دخول المحطة، وتريد أن تنتظر الحافلة خارج المحطة وهذاممنوع. قلتُ لها: هذا يورو وأعطها البطاقة. وتراجعتُ قليلاً وأعطيتُ السيدة مجالاً لتعود إلى دورها بعد أن نادتها الموظفةمجدداً.

GAZA MY LIVE

NO MORE LIFE

اشترت السيدة بطاقتها ووقفت جانباًوكأنها تنتظرني، فتوقعت أنها تريد أن تشكرني، إلا أنها لم تفعل، بلانتظرتْ لتطمئن إلى أنني اشتريت بطاقتي وسأتوجه إلى ساحة الانطلاق، فقالت لي بصيغة الأمر: احمل هذه… وأشارت إلى حقيبتها.

كان الأمر غريباً جداً بالنسبة لهؤلاءالناس الذين يتعاملون بلباقة ليس لها مثيل. بدون تفكير حملت لها حقيبتهاواتجهنا سوية إلى الحافلة، ومن الطبيعي أن يكون مقعدي بجانبها لأنها كانت قبلي تماماً في الدور.

حاولت أن أجلس من جهة النافذة لأستمتع بمنظر تساقط الثلج الذي بدأ منذ ساعة وأقسم بأن يمحو جميع ألوان الطبيعةمعلناً بصمته الشديد: أنا الذي آتي لكم بالخير وأنا من يحق له السيادةالآن! لكن السيدة منعتني و جلستْ هي من جهة النافذة دون أن تنطق بحرف،فرحتُ أنظر أمامي ولا أعيرها اهتماماً، إلى أن التفتتْ إلي تنظر في وجهي وتحدق فيه، وطالت التفاتتها دون أن تنطق ببنت شفة وأنا أنظر أمامي، حتى إنني بدأت أتضايق من نظراتها التي لا أراها لكنني أشعر بها، فالتفتُ إليها.

عندها تبسمتْ قائلة: كنت أختبر مدى صبرك وتحملك.
– صبري على ماذا؟

– على قلة ذوقي. أعرفُ تماماً بماذا كنتَ تفكر.

– لا أظنك تعرفين، وليس مهماً أن تعرفي.

– حسناً، سأقول لك لاحقاً، لكن بالي مشغول كيف سأرد لك الدين.

– الأمر لا يستحق، لا تشغلي بالك.

– عندي حاجة سأبيعها الآن وسأرد لك اليورو، فهل تشتريها أم أعرضها على غيرك؟

– هل تريدين أن أشتريها قبل أن أعرف ماهي؟

– إنها حكمة. أعطني يورو واحداً لأعطيك الحكمة.

– وهل ستعيدين لي اليورو إن لم تعجبني الحكمة؟

– لا، فالكلام بعد أن تسمعه لا أستطيع استرجاعه، ثم إن اليورو الواحد يلزمني لأنني أريد أن أرد به دَيني.

أخرجتُ اليورو من جيبي ووضعته في يديها وأنا أنظر إلى تضاريس وجهها. لا زالت عيناها جميلتين تلمعان كبريق عيني شابة في مقتبل العمر، وأنفها الدقيق مع عينيها يخبرون عن ذكاء ثعلبي. مظهرها يدل على أنها سيدة متعلمة، لكنني لن أسألها عن شيء، أنا على يقين أنها ستحدثني عن نفسها فرحلتنا لا زالت في بدايتها.

أغلقت أصابعها على هذه القطعة النقديةالتي فرحت بها كما يفرح الأطفال عندما نعطيهم بعض النقود وقالت: أنا الآن متقاعدة، كنت أعمل مدرّسة لمادة الفلسفة، جئت من مدينتي لأرافق إحدى صديقاتي إلى المطار. أنفقتُ كل ما كان معي وتركتُ ما يكفي لأعود إلى بيتي، إلا أن سائق التاكسي أحرجني وأخذ مني يورو واحد زيادة، فقلت في نفسي سأنتظر الحافلة خارج المحطة، ولم أكن أدري أنه ممنوع. أحببتُ أن أشكرك بطريقة أخرى بعدما رأيت شهامتك، حيث دفعت عني دون أن أطلب منك. الموضوع ليس مادياً. ستقول لي بأن المبلغ بسيط، سأقول لك أنت سارعت بفعل الخير ودونما تفكير.

قاطعتُ المرأة مبتسماً: أتوقع بأنك ستحكي لي قصة حياتك، لكن أين البضاعة التي اشتريتُها منكِ؟ أين الحكمة؟

– “بَسْ دقيقة”.
– سأنتظردقيقة.
– لا، لا، لا تنتظر. “بَسْ دقيقة”… هذه هي الحكمة.
– ما فهمت شيئاً.
– لعلك تعتقد أنك تعرضتَ لعمليةاحتيال؟

– ربما.

– سأشرح لك: “بس دقيقة”، لا تنسَ هذه الكلمة. في كل أمر تريد أن تتخذ فيه قراراً، عندما تفكر به وعندما تصل إلى لحظة اتخاذ القرار أعطِ نفسك دقيقة إضافية، ستين ثانية. هل تعلم كم من المعلومات يستطيع دماغك أن يعالج خلال ستين ثانية؟ في هذه الدقيقةالتي ستمنحها لنفسك قبل إصدار قرارك قد تتغير أمور كثيرة، ولكن بشرط.

– وما هوالشرط؟

– أن تتجرد عن نفسك، وتُفرغ في دماغك وفي قلبك جميع القيم الإنسانية والمثل الأخلاقية دفعة واحدة، وتعالجها معالجة موضوعية ودون تحيز،
فمثلاً: إن كنت قد قررت بأنك صاحب حق وأن الآخر قد ظلمك فخلال هذه الدقيقة
وعندما تتجرد عن نفسك ربما تكتشف بأن الطرف الآخر لديه حق أيضاً، أو جزء منه،
وعندها قد تغير قرارك تجاهه.
إن كنت نويت أن تعاقب شخصاً ما فإنك خلال هذه الدقيقة بإمكانك أن تجد له عذراً فتخفف عنه العقوبة أو تمتنع عن معاقبته وتسامحه نهائياً.
دقيقةواحدة بإمكانها أن تجعلك تعدل عن اتخاذ خطوة مصيرية في حياتك لطالمااعتقدت أنها هي الخطوة السليمة، في حين أنها قد تكون كارثية.
دقيقة واحدةربما تجعلك أكثر تمسكاً بإنسانيتك وأكثر بعداً عن هواك.
دقيقة واحدة قدتغير مجرى حياتك وحياة غيرك، وإن كنت من المسؤولين فإنها قد تغير مجرى حياة قوم بأكملهم…
هل تعلم أن كل ما شرحته لك عن الدقيقة الواحدة لم يستغرق أكثر من دقيقة واحدة؟

– صحيح، وأنا قبلتُ برحابة صدر هذه الصفقة وحلال عليكِ اليورو.

– تفضل، أنا الآن أردُّ لك الدين وأعيدلك ما دفعته عني عند شباك التذاكر. والآن أشكرك كل الشكر على ما فعلته لأجلي.

أعطتني اليورو. تبسمتُ في وجههاواستغرقت ابتسامتي أكثر من دقيقة، لأنتبه إلى نفسي وهي تأخذ رأسي بيدهاوتقبل جبيني قائلة: هل تعلم أنه كان بالإمكان أن أنتظر ساعات دون حل لمشكلتي، فالآخرون لم يكونوا ليدروا ما هي مشكلتي، وأنا ما كنتُ لأستطيع أن أطلب واحد يورو من أحد.

– حسناً، وماذا ستبيعيني لو أعطيتك مئةيورو؟
– سأعتبره مهراً وسأقبل بك زوجاً.

علتْ ضحكتُنا في الحافلة وأنا أُمثـِّلُ بأنني أريد النهوض ومغادرة مقعدي وهي تمسك بيدي قائلة: اجلس، فزوجي متمسك بي وليس له مزاج أن يموت قريباً!

وأنا أقول لها: “بس دقيقة”، “بس دقيقة”…

لم أتوقع بأن الزمن سيمضي بسرعة. كانت هذه الرحلة من أكثر رحلاتي سعادة، حتى إنني شعرت بنوع من الحزن عندماغادرتْ الحافلة عندما وصلنا إلى مدينتها في منتصف الطريق تقريباً.

قبل ربع ساعة من وصولها حاولتْ أن تتصل من جوالها بابنها كي يأتي إلى المحطة ليأخذها، ثم التفتتْ إليّ قائلة: على ما يبدو أنه ليس عندي رصيد. فأعطيتها جوالي لتتصل. المفاجأة أنني بعدمغادرتها للحافلة بربع ساعة تقريباً استلمتُ رسالتين على الجوال، الأولى تفيد بأن هناك من دفع لي رصيداً بمبلغ يزيد عن 10 يورو، والثانية منهاتقول فيها: كان عندي رصيد في هاتفي لكنني احتلتُ عليك لأعرف رقم هاتفك فأجزيكَ على حسن فعلتك. إن شئت احتفظ برقمي، وإن زرت مدينتي فاعلم بأن لك فيها أمّاً ستستقبلك. فرددتُ عليها برسالة قلت فيها: عندما نظرتُ إلى عينيك خطر ببالي أنها عيون ثعلبية لكنني لم أتجرأ أن أقولها لك، أتمنى أن تجمعنا الأيام ثانية، أشكركِ على الحكمة واعلمي بأنني سأبيعها بمبلغ أكبربكثير.

“بس دقيقة”…
حكمة أعرضها للبيع، فمن يشتريها مني في زمن نهدر فيه الكثير الكثير من الساعات دون فائدة؟
مما لفت انتباهي

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May 11, 2011 Posted by | Akashma, Economics of the Poor, Education, Gaza, Personal Grow and Awareness | , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

When We Were Free


Posted by Marivel Guzman
On November 5, 2010

When we were still free in North America

A Plea To Love and Respect for Mother Earth

The Wise Words of Chief Seattle, are lessons

Beautiful words that lacerate my soul.

I could imagine a land like the one my ancestors were losing

the battle for the Land, the Mother Land that gives

Not the land that is ravaged by cities of concrete

A land that was rich, plentiful with life and soul.

Revise every line of Chief Seattle and feel the pain,

that pain that comes with the loss, the loss of freedom,

the loss of sustainability and Loss of Hopes for a future.

Imagine his pain when he saw that his dreams were about to end.

We can make his dream and the dream of the Natives of all the lands

to come truth, to return to the land what it belongs to her.

To free her waters, to let them run free..like the buffalo once did

Unite your effort to give back Mother Earth back to all of us.

Chief Seattle

In 1855, the Dwamish Chief Seattle, of Washington Territory, sent the following letter to President Franklin Pierce. Not surprisingly, his powerful plea was ignored by Pierce, and every President to follow.

Now, we need, more than ever, a president who will listen to Chief Seattle’s simple words.

To the Great Chief in Washington,

We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of the land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on. He leaves his father’s grave, and his children birthright is forgotten.

The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man. But perhaps it is because the red man is a savage and does not understand. There is no quiet place in the white man’s cities. No place to hear the leaves of spring or the rustle of insect wings. But perhaps because I am a savage and do not understand, the clatter only seems to insult the ears.

The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind itself cleansed by a midday rain, or scented by a Pinion pine. The air is precious to the Red man. For all things share the same breath: the beasts, the trees, and the man.

The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench.

I have seen thousands of rotting buffaloes on the prairie left by the white man who shot them from a passing train. I am a savage and do not understand. What is man without the beasts? If all beasts were gone, men would die from great loneliness of spirit, for whatever happens to the beast happens also to the man.

This we know: The earth does not belong to man; man belongs to the earth. All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. Man does not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

Our children have seen their fathers humbled in defeat. Our warriors have felt shame. It matters little where we pass the rest of our days; they are not many. A few more hours, a few more winters, and none of the children of the great tribes that once lived on this earth will remain to mourn the graves of a people once as powerful and hopeful as yours.

But even the white man cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all; we shall see. One thing we know, which the white man may one day discover: our God is the same God. You may think that you own him as you wish to own our land, but you cannot. He is the Body of man, and his compassion is equal for the red man and white. This earth is precious to him, and to harm the earth is to heap contempt on its Creator.

The whites too shall pass, perhaps sooner than other tribes. Continue to contaminate your bed, and you will one night suffocate in your own waste.

But in your perishing you may shine brightly, fired by the strength of the God who brought you to this land and for some special purpose gave you dominion over this land and over the red man. That destiny is a mystery for us, for we do not understand when the buffalo are slaughtered, and the wild horses tamed. Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is the eagle? Gone. And what is it to say goodbye to the swift pony and the hunt? The end of living and the beginning of survival.

We might understand if we knew what it was the white man dreams, what hopes he describes to his children on long winter nights, what visions he burns into their minds, so they will wish for tomorrow. But we are savages. The white man’s dreams are hidden from us. And because they are hidden we will go our own way.

If we sell you our land, love it as we have loved it. Care for it as we have cared for it. Hold in your memory the way the land is as you take it. And with all your strength, with all your might, with all your heart, preserve it for your children and love it …. as God loves us all.

One thing we know. Our God is the same God. This earth is precious to Him. Even the white man cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all.

Angelina- Chief Seattle Daughter

Angelina Chief Seattle Daughter

Version 1 (below) appeared in the Seattle Sunday Star on Oct. 29, 1887, in a column by Dr. Henry A. Smith.
“CHIEF SEATTLE’S 1854 ORATION” – ver . 1
AUTHENTIC TEXT OF CHIEF SEATTLE’S TREATY ORATION 1854

Yonder sky that has wept tears of compassion upon my people for centuries untold, and which to us appears changeless and eternal, may change. Today is fair. Tomorrow it may be overcast with clouds. My words are like the stars that never change. Whatever Seattle says, the great chief at Washington can rely upon with as much certainty as he can upon the return of the sun or the seasons. The white chief says that Big Chief at Washington sends us greetings of friendship and goodwill. This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return. His people are many. They are like the grass that covers vast prairies. My people are few. They resemble the scattering trees of a storm-swept plain. The great, and I presume — good, White Chief sends us word that he wishes to buy our land but is willing to allow us enough to live comfortably. This indeed appears just, even generous, for the Red Man no longer has rights that he need respect, and the offer may be wise, also, as we are no longer in need of an extensive country.

There was a time when our people covered the land as the waves of a wind-ruffled sea cover its shell-paved floor, but that time long since passed away with the greatness of tribes that are now but a mournful memory. I will not dwell on, nor mourn over, our untimely decay, nor reproach my paleface brothers with hastening it, as we too may have been somewhat to blame.

Youth is impulsive. When our young men grow angry at some real or imaginary wrong, and disfigure their faces with black paint, it denotes that their hearts are black, and that they are often cruel and relentless, and our old men and old women are unable to restrain them. Thus it has ever been. Thus it was when the white man began to push our forefathers ever westward. But let us hope that the hostilities between us may never return. We would have everything to lose and nothing to gain. Revenge by young men is considered gain, even at the cost of their own lives, but old men who stay at home in times of war, and mothers who have sons to lose, know better.

Our good father in Washington–for I presume he is now our father as well as yours, since King George has moved his boundaries further north–our great and good father, I say, sends us word that if we do as he desires he will protect us. His brave warriors will be to us a bristling wall of strength, and his wonderful ships of war will fill our harbors, so that our ancient enemies far to the northward — the Haidas and Tsimshians — will cease to frighten our women, children, and old men. Then in reality he will be our father and we his children. But can that ever be? Your God is not our God! Your God loves your people and hates mine! He folds his strong protecting arms lovingly about the paleface and leads him by the hand as a father leads an infant son. But, He has forsaken His Red children, if they really are His. Our God, the Great Spirit, seems also to have forsaken us. Your God makes your people wax stronger every day. Soon they will fill all the land. Our people are ebbing away like a rapidly receding tide that will never return. The white man’s God cannot love our people or He would protect them. They seem to be orphans who can look nowhere for help. How then can we be brothers? How can your God become our God and renew our prosperity and awaken in us dreams of returning greatness? If we have a common Heavenly Father He must be partial, for He came to His paleface children. We never saw Him. He gave you laws but had no word for His red children whose teeming multitudes once filled this vast continent as stars fill the firmament. No; we are two distinct races with separate origins and separate destinies. There is little in common between us.

To us the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is hallowed ground. You wander far from the graves of your ancestors and seemingly without regret. Your religion was written upon tablets of stone by the iron finger of your God so that you could not forget. The Red Man could never comprehend or remember it. Our religion is the traditions of our ancestors — the dreams of our old men, given them in solemn hours of the night by the Great Spirit; and the visions of our sachems, and is written in the hearts of our people.

Your dead cease to love you and the land of their nativity as soon as they pass the portals of the tomb and wander away beyond the stars. They are soon forgotten and never return. Our dead never forget this beautiful world that gave them being. They still love its verdant valleys, its murmuring rivers, its magnificent mountains, sequestered vales and verdant lined lakes and bays, and ever yearn in tender fond affection over the lonely hearted living, and often return from the happy hunting ground to visit, guide, console, and comfort them.

Day and night cannot dwell together. The Red Man has ever fled the approach of the White Man, as the morning mist flees before the morning sun. However, your proposition seems fair and I think that my people will accept it and will retire to the reservation you offer them. Then we will dwell apart in peace, for the words of the Great White Chief seem to be the words of nature speaking to my people out of dense darkness.

It matters little where we pass the remnant of our days. They will not be many. The Indian’s night promises to be dark. Not a single star of hope hovers above his horizon. Sad-voiced winds moan in the distance. Grim fate seems to be on the Red Man’s trail, and wherever he will hear the approaching footsteps of his fell destroyer and prepare stolidly to meet his doom, as does the wounded doe that hears the approaching footsteps of the hunter.

A few more moons, a few more winters, and not one of the descendants of the mighty hosts that once moved over this broad land or lived in happy homes, protected by the Great Spirit, will remain to mourn over the graves of a people once more powerful and hopeful than yours. But why should I mourn at the untimely fate of my people? Tribe follows tribe, and nation follows nation, like the waves of the sea. It is the order of nature, and regret is useless. Your time of decay may be distant, but it will surely come, for even the White Man whose God walked and talked with him as friend to friend, cannot be exempt from the common destiny. We may be brothers after all. We will see.

We will ponder your proposition and when we decide we will let you know. But should we accept it, I here and now make this condition that we will not be denied the privilege without molestation of visiting at any time the tombs of our ancestors, friends, and children. Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors, and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch. Our departed braves, fond mothers, glad, happy hearted maidens, and even the little children who lived here and rejoiced here for a brief season, will love these somber solitudes and at eventide they greet shadowy returning spirits. And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe, and when your children’s children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them and still love this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone.

Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless. Dead, did I say? There is no death, only a change of worlds.

November 7, 2010 Posted by | Akashma, Education, History, Light and Darkness, Native People, Not Indians, Opinion Maker, Settlers, Spirituality, The Mind, Truth | , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Shadi Nassar:The Dreams of the youth of Gaza


By Marivel Guzman
Article Featured on Opinion Maker

Student of the Month

Before his profile was deleted from Facebook, he was another resident of the besieged Gaza Strip, with dreams to travel the world, and like any other young person with university degree with plans for his future.

He worked arduously for 2 years fighting the injustice of an oppressive regimen that sees the 1.5 millions residents of Gaza as enemies of war, but in reality they are regular, ordinary citizens like you and me.

Gaza is been under an inhumane siege for more than 3 years, Israel have destroyed their schools, public buildings, and thousands of homes.

The Occupations Forces had murdered thousands of unarmed civilians, dozens of non-violent protesters. Just in her last incursion what Israel equivocally called war, she killed more than 1400 civilians, including more than 400 children.

The world have been trying to help Gaza to brake the siege, and have organized land convoys and Sea Voyages, the whole world was in outrage during the piracy act of Israel that in International waters, assaulted and killed 9 peace activists, that only “crime” was to deliver humanitarian aid to Gaza, and with this, brake the siege, that the UN with it silence has stamped with official indifference.

Live in Gaza is less than pleasurable, the youth has no other entertainment but few left enjoyments not robbed yet by Israel. The beach is meters safe only, before it become a target practice for the Israel Occupier Forces that shoot live ammunition to the beach goers and fishermen as well.

Facebook have offered the escape window to the world for residents of the besieged Gaza, I meet my dear friend Shadi Nassar almost a year ago, his story was appealing for me, he told me his dreams. The dreams of a young person, that wanted to go study abroad. Really for most of the developed world, this is just a step in their education, but not for the youth of Gaza.

They suffer the problematic of countless troubles, simple documents that in a regular free country will take few minutes, for Gaza students that want to travel out of Gaza, is an huge waste of time and energy, documents signing takes months to get. Even the Palestinians Authority as in complicity with Israel make the procedures eternal and sometimes impossible to achieve.

Shadi, lost already an opportunity last year during the Gaza Massacre, where life become unbearable for the residents. He was ready to leave, when the assault started and all his dreams were killed with “Operation lead”.

But you can’t kill the dreams as easy as you kill a Palestinian, his resolved proved stronger than Operation lead, and he continued with his efforts to work again for another opportunity until finally “HE MADE IT OUT OF GAZA”.

We can say, that he broke the Siege in its own merit. His case is one to tell, because not all the youth, have the opportunity to fulfill his dreams, I can tell you that if we offer our support to help them in the outside world more students can achieve their dreams.

Scholarships are hard to get for Palestinians in the occupied territories, advocate in Universities to offer support for Palestinians. There are thousands of foundations that offer grants and facilities for students, but not for Palestinians, if you are part of this foundations, work hand and hand with the administrators to offer more grants for this students, that need more than anybody in the world. There are few foundations that I have found in the internet:

USA: For Palestinians
Resident – 2011 – 2012 Fulbright Science and Technology Scholarship PhD Student Program, “They help you to apply for the Travel Visa
Plane ticket
Money to spend for 36 months,Telephone to call: Gaza Residents: Tel: 08-2864-623”
*******************************************************************************************
Scholarships PALESTINE Master International Business Palestinian students
http://scholarships.reingex.com/ps.asp
*******************************************************************************************
FURTHER EDUCATION PROGRAMME
Regional Scholarships

Palestinian Refugee Scheme
http://www.saidfoundation.org/whatwedo/regional.shtml

Support one student, you do not need to be rich, even hosting a student in your own home, or supporting their studies can make a wealth of different.

There are thousands of graduates from the University in Gaza, that need an opportunity to go study abroad, we are billions of compassionate being that can make a different for one Gaza student.

Lend your hand to them, show your humanity. Sponsor a student from Gaza.

My dear friend Made it out of Gaza, I wish I can write the story of hundreds of Shadis, this time he made the journey to freedom, he is free to decide if he needs the light on or off in his nights.

POWER OFF is no more an obstacle in his nights, Israel can’t manage his movements any longer, he is owner of his life for first time in his life, he decide if he wants a peaceful night, free from the memories of the aircraft bombing “invisible targets” in Gaza.

For first time he knows that his life is not IN VAIN, he has a purpose and a live to live.

Congratulations to Shadi Nassar, you broke the siege Dear.. But even in strange lands he took his home land in his heart, and he will keep fighting to free Palestine. Because the sons of the Land never forget their roots. The Beloved Land we know as Palestine is his most dear dream. To See her free of Occupation. Free once and for All.

September 2, 2010 Posted by | Economics of the Poor, Education, Gaza, Israel, israel criminal actions, Marivel Guzman, News, Occupied Territory, Personal Grow and Awareness, victims | , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

Occupation 101-Help End The Occupation


The world won’t be save until all people in the world take responsibility for the actions of their governments, and the Occupation in Palestine is pay by your tax dollars, by your indifferent in the conflict, by Christians fundamentalist coalitions that you belong to, by the blind faith in your religion on the “Chosen People”, by your ignorance in the Palestinian Plight, by your denying to see Truth. Inform yourself and be part of the growing global movement to stop the Occupation.

July 30, 2010 Posted by | Economics of the Poor, Education, Education and Religion, Globalist, History, News, Religion, The Global Citizen, War and Peace | , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Opinion Maker-where Truth is The News and readers are The Opinion Makers


Posted on July 12, 2010 by Marivel Guzman

Opinion MakerWhat does it takes to write the truth? Regular Ordinary Citizens now days are engaged in the writing process and the dissemination of the truth. Be my truth or your truth is up to the Opinion Makers.
In this complex society that we are living, a world ravaged by wars, disperse by religions, divided by ideas, segregated by colors, is amazing that we can reunite in a virtual world where we chat as old friends, a virtual coffee shop where we drink a picture in your wall, where your ideas are spread, judged, misjudged, argued, deleted and at the end of the day and after a long day of differences you still be friend of your worse enemy.
The opinion makers are you, your opinion is my worse nightmare, my opinion distasteful to your morning coffee. We all become opinion makers.
We write what we feel, what we know, what we want, what we search, what we discover and we enjoy this non pay job that we do with an almost addiction, with a religious everyday observance. We the Opinion Makers are obsessed with the truth, we can’t take the main stream news any more as news, but as propaganda. We the Opinion Makers has discovered the way to make our opinion count, even thought is just in the social networks, we feel the satisfaction of have done a great justice to truth, when we sit for hours writing, posting, commenting in every single wall of our countless friends. We have become the active Opinion Makers of the world, when before, the broadcasting networks saw us as a clients of their advertisements adds, now we become the Opinion Makers, and we are seen as important as the Adds.
How this become to be?, we the public blogger, the free writers, the video editors, the photographers, and publishers are just Opinion Makers. We do not generate one penny for the Social Network that we subscribe, but in the long run we will be the writers of History as never written before, we will write our story and History will be just his-story.
The Truth is the News and can not be cover by beautiful and crafty words. The Truth is destined to survive the most entertaining fictional story of the editor of Fox or CNN, these networks are struggling to keep us hooked to their lies.
CSPAN is ready to interview the hard to get personages on the Political Spectrum to attract us back, but years of mingling with the Truth, and years of Editing lies had set us networks apart.
What can I say about evening news, in every station around the globe, they all fighting for ratings. "Charly Bit my finger" or "Blooood" boy have more viewers in an afternoon than all the broadcasting news in the US and Canada together, let alone all the youtube, meta caffee and others channels that attract us to the every day Truths and Realities.
I tell you times are changing, we have become the Opinion Makers, The Video Editors, The Free Press: The New Press of the world. We the regular citizens can not be attracted any more for an add of Coca Cola, or a refreshing bath of Zeth.
There is no way that we can go back to be the passive spectators that for years, warmed the sofas in front to the TV’s. Now we are part of the making of the news, we are part of the story, we are making the story and the Opinion Makers of the Truth.

July 12, 2010 Posted by | Economics of the Poor, Education, The Global Citizen, The Mind | , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Thought of the Writer


September 19, 2008

Listening to Zig Ziglar speaking in a excerpt in YouTube from one of his seminars, I have the motivation to write some more lines for my “Book”, not like the literal definition of a book, more like a diary, a journey to my life experience, during all my years as reader.

The name of the seminar is “Setting Goals”, sometimes all it takes is a little push , So I have planned to write my “Book” on the summer of 2007, I’ve been reading and researching all kind of material for my “Book”, but is been more difficult that I though, there is plenty of information in the subject but there have been an awakening journey, more I immerse myself in my ideas and research about other people’s ideas.
I see myself navigating in sea of theories, laws, discoveries, mysteries, doctrines and indoctrinations, information and misinformation, science and fiction and just anything imaginable and unimaginable where everything is together and refuse to separate.
Every idea that I have explored comes with an attachment, every theory come packed with references that crisscross to history, religion, science, fiction, spirituality, ancient civilization, UFO Theory, I mean everything is mysteriously connected. So here I am 2010 with more than 1000 pages written about “everything” and more I write more I get to the conclusion that is impossible to write a book and pour in it all the information that I want to write.

My initial idea was to deliver in one simple “book”, written in simple language leaving out big words, I always thought simple language is necessary to deliver the message to the people, writing elegantly and using big words is for intellectuals, and I am not one nor is the people I want to reach.

I started reading big books since I was 10 years old, I remember Crime and Punishment by Feodor Dostoyevsky, I end up reading most of his literature, so I started in a reading Quest. I have read more books than I can remember, from the classics to the more contemporaneous writers; I am undiscriminated reader ; from philosophy, religion, fiction, science, history, politics, folk stories, just name a subject , I like them all, and more I read more I understand the necessity to write, I cannot help it. It has to be done, the ideas are too many inside me, I feel that I can explode any moment.
My soul is pounding in my consciousness, forcing me to deliver my simple understanding to the people, to those that don’t have the time to explore the big dictionary, it the those with simple mind that don’t understand big and elaborated words and messages with dubious meaning that don’t fit their reality.
This is my journey I want to give back to the people what I learnt, and sometimes, I feel that is an obligation that I have to simplify the message and deliver it in the simplest form, deciphered and ready to be absorbed for the most curious and simple minds.

What motivates people to write books or journals? Well is very complex to explain but very easy to understand is you are in the writer shoes. I don’t see myself as a writer, I don’t think that I fit the description, I m more like a mind blogger, that writes everything that feels, sees, knows, discover, uncover, search and search.
This inner necessity of mine that that push me to give, the urgency to tell. The unselfish motive to share what we know, what we believe, what we suffer and feel, what we discover and understand of everything.

You will notice that sometimes I use journal style in my writing is a way to tell you how I structured this book, my motivations in any given day. My understanding of an idea, I hope you will understand the message, is done with love for all of you.
And the best of my idea, is that is Free to you, my thoughts are a gift for the ordinary citizen of the world, the global citizen. And the better news are is that you don’t need to speak my language to understand, the online translator are the free tools for humanity, where we are all part of the news.

March 2, 2009 Posted by | Education, Light and Darkness, Personal Grow and Awareness, Spirituality, The Global Citizen, The Mind | , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Indians? Forever!


And He Saw Indians?.. Forever..

New World?..or Old Word?

The Native Residents of the Land of America, Who are they?  At least in our continent called properly American Continent and not Christopher or Columbus Continent. When Christopher Columbus arrived to “The Indias Orientales” where rumors were saying that was a land shining with gold, he rapidly named the humans in those lands Indians, but there is a little problem with that name, he did not arrived to the Indians Orientales and he did not saw Indians, he saw the remains of the that Mayan Civilization that we heard so much, but know so little. Our poor merchant Portuguese set foot in a pristine land full of mysteries and riches well protected in the heavy southern jungle. When Christopher  brought the news to the Spaniard Crown, he will refer to them in only two adjectives: Indians or Savages.  How sad for our modern civilization that our hunters in their pursue of gold,  destroyed the legacy of that great civilization, their temples were savaged, ravaged for these men that called themselves “Civilized” Since that day on, any person found in the “New World” -or New Spanish a name that prevailed for more than 100 years- will be called Indian, what a terrible mistake and the most horrible of this incident is that our scholars, the persons in charge of our education for more than 500 years had failed to correct that mistake in our his-story, and to this day every person that is instructed in school around the globe is taught the word Indians to refer to anybody that is not of European descend. Imagine our experts mathematicians, The Mayans or our Illustrious Warriors the Aztecs, what will they think of our education system if they will be an equal citizen of those lands, if they could complain and call for a correction in His-story to really be Their-Story. Sometimes I wonder if it is in memory of Christopher Columbus’ Mistake that we don’t rightly correct the name Indians or if negligence or laziness of our educators, we got comfortably numb with that error that we don’t want to take the task to correct the education system of the World. I heard this expression when one wants to refers to indigenous people, Indian with a dot (referring to Hindus) or Indian with feather, how sad even well knowledgeable people had use this expression. Can we imagine the monumental change that had to be done to every trace of Indians? We even have a Indian Heritage Day Not to mention Indians Reservations, the supposed federal protected lands.. but that’s another story. Indian Protection Laws. Indian Museums Indians Trails. Indian Lands Indian Blood And the more cynical of all “American Indian History” This is one of those times that I have to make emphasis in the words History and His-Story, because certainly what it was imprinted in books was His-story.

BTW There is no End of the Word, It is the End of the World As we Know. In reality started Changing Already

It is worth to mention that the Mayan calendar which is believe to be at least 5200 years old according to the archaeologists, but I say that if we take in consideration the calendric system that they were following in great cycles of 1,872,000 days or 5128.77 of -of our non-accurated gregorian calendar years – and we are about to start a new cycle sometimes in 2011 or 2012, then they are much older civilization that we thought there were at least in this plane of existence that we are living now. Anyway their calendar as old as it is clearly shows that the sun was in the center of the planets revolving around it and not the earth being the center of the universe as the church proclaimed for many centuries, and also the earth as a round astral body and not flat as the church argued in their holy books.  Poor Cristobal Colon he finished his last years in a mad house because he believed until his death that the earth was round. I Have the privilege to had lived with the Txeltzal Tribe direct descendants of our Mayans, in the city Tuxaquiltxa in Ocosingo on the high sierra of Chiapas, one of the last pristine lands in Mexico, at least in those years the 80’s now after the 94 revolve I don’t know. I wish I had done more for them, I learned from their rich culture their rituals and dancing, and the most important for me was probably the properties of the plants that they use in a very peculiar way.

Plants of the Gods - Their Sacred, Healing and Hallucinogenic Powers by Richard Evans Schultes and Albert Hoffman Healing Arts Press (Vermont) 1992

Some are use as food and others as medicine and a few of them to induce deep soporific state,  these plants that ones the governments of the world are interested in make them illegals.
50-year-old Chippewa Sioux named Leonard Peltier, the most controversial and potent symbol of a violent civil-rights struggle waged in this country more than two decades ago. Serving consecutive life sentences for the murder of two FBI agents in the summer of 1975,  Peltier has been behind bars for the past 19 years. If the U.S. Parole Commission has its way, he’ll stay there for at least 14 more. Robert Redford and Michael Apted have made a sympathetic documentary, Incident at Oglala, and Apted has also directed a feature film, Thunderheart, inspired by his story.The most famous and influential book about his case, Peter Matthiessen’s In the Spirit of Crazy Horse. To a remarkable degree, Matthiessen’s version has been widely accepted as the definitive account, as well as the starting point for most of those who have turned their attention to the Peltier story. Yiwipi is a lakota ceremony where the shaman goes into trance and the spirit of animals or elements goes into him and can cure, find lost things, and predicts events. Yuwipi men are reluctant to perform the ritual today because they believe that their divination will ultimately involve the local police and other federal authorities, and they do not want to be responsible for sending another Indian to jail or prison. (Excerpt taken from Mariah Media Inc.) Scott Anderson’s most recent book is The Four O’Clock Murders (Dell). He won the 1993 Pope Foundation Award for Investigative Journalism and was a finalist for the 1994 National Magazine Award for reporting.-Reference-http://outside.away.com/magazine/0795/7f_leo1.html -(c)1994-2007 Mariah Media Inc. All rights reserved. Excerpt taken from the Dakota-Lakota-Nakota Human Rights Advocary Coalition-http://1onewolf.com/lakota/spirit8.htm They made us many promises, more than I can remember. But they kept but one – They promised to take our land…and they took it. — Chief Red Cloud

Tunkashila, Let us stand Coalition strong in protection of our lands, our beliefs, our Sacred Spirituality, and our traditional Indigenous ways of life. We stand in strong support of Indigenous Rights and the Inherent Allodial title of Dakota, Lakota, and Nakota Lands. Let us reclaim what is ours and work diligently to preserve what we now have.

That piece of red, white and blue cloth stands for a system and a country that does not honor it’s own word…If it stood for honor and truth, it would remember our treaties and give them the appropriate place under international law. But it doesn’t. It dishonors its own word and violates its treaties… In Honor of Tony Black Feather (Died August 11 2004) Why the white raze have the incessant wish to exterminate our last wise men of the past in Earth, this extermination is happening around the globe, being Australia, Africa and America  3 hot spots. There are so many accounts in His-Story of massacres of indigenous people, that we need full encyclopedias to tell what really happened  in those stories and maybe if their-story is written down we could see the truth of the savages that killed our wise fathers, mothers, daughters and sons in those days and one day they could forgive us and we all can move on.

La Malinche, The Mother of the New Cultura Ibero Americana

March 1, 2009 Posted by | Education, Education and Religion, History | , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment