Summary August 16th

MGBTTT- 2:53 am Wednesday August 16th

Dear Anthony-

The past month has been a real challenge. I have been working a lot. And getting very little rest. My immediate goal is to pay down my debt in as little time as possible which means I must be careful in how I spend my money and my time.

Too much work... can be too much.
The fire burns out quickly.
Better to have a plan and
execute it with full care.

I have been doing quite a bit of studying these past few weeks. My research has taken me down some interesting roads and I'm still not sure where this is all heading. I'm trusting that the full picture will come into view eventually and I will have a true vision of what I'm meant to do.

Since I started reading speeches by Martin Luther King Jr., I have become inspired once again. The world is starting to look strange and different to me. Almost like everything is looking brighter.

A stark contrast to my studies of Che Guevara, the revolutionary freedom fighter and commandant of the Cuban Revolutionary Army. As romantic as it may seem, as glorious as the cause may have been, Che's life was a series of never-ending struggles. Self chosen I might add.

In many respects, I greatly admire Che Guevara. He lived a romantic life. He traveled the distance of the South and Central Americas on a motorcycle. He was on the road to become a doctor and decided not to. He lived in the hills of another country to help free a people whose time had come. He suffered from debilitating asthma and still managed to wage a guerilla war and win it. And he was captured in the jungles of Bolivia, was executed, and his spirit grew to worldly proportions.

He is an enduring image of the "revolutionary" man. A man molded out of steel willing to give his life in sacrifice for a cause. He believed that the only way to win the freedom of the Americas was to pick up a gun and fight. And by the gun, he fell.

There's a lesson to be learned here and I hope the world learns it someday.

------------------------------------------------------
Today, I was asked if I would come in and clean the restaurant where I work. I was proud to be asked and I took the assignment.

I geared up in my green cargo pants, white t-shirt, and black tennis shoes. I came in ready to do one of my inspection-quality clean-jobs. And I did.

I was working along side a very loud and funny woman named Samantha who happens to be a large black woman. (I mention this, simply to set the stage.)

What came to my mind, as Samantha climbed the step ladder to get to the high places, and I crouched down to get to the low? The words of Martin Luther King Jr. as he delivered his "I've been to the Mountaintop" speech.

"Well, I don't know what will happen now; we've got some difficult days ahead. (Amen) But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been to the mountaintop. (Yeah) [applause] And I don't mind." - Martin Luther King Jr. April 3rd, 1968

I've also been to the mountaintop Son. And today, I didn't mind crouching low. I've seen the world that he was talking about. And I fell in love with it.

When I was living in the south of Spain, I trekked into the hills of the Alpujarras and discovered a peaceful tribe community. I lived there for three months. The place is called Beneficio (Communidad Natural).

I bathed in a waterfall, and also in a stream.

I lived in a tree terrace with an Irish Rasta.

He spoke on brotherhood and I played my guitar.

I stared up at the moon and saw a rainbow.

I felt free for the very first time.

Then I looked back and felt a great sadness.

For plans not completed,
and dreams not fulfilled.
And all those people that I left behind.

I sat there, on the side of the hill, at the bathing pool. Looking over a beautiful valley surrounded by mountains, and I realized that I must return home. That my work on this earth was not yet finished.

But I am haunted by the question, what in the world am I here for? Why was I led to the mountaintop? And now, what am I suppose to do about it?

Again, loving the questions.

Warmth and good vibes,

Dad