Quiet Time at the Pueblo

This morning I woke up to an amazing sunrise, most of the night was spent listening to a huge easterly-wind sweeping into the Pueblo. I had taken a few weeks off from running so the last few days I have been back at it - pounding out the miles and the body and legs feel good, but the muscles are tight. Ugh love and hate the feeling.

Taos Pueblo the A.M. view from my humble winter abode.

Well it's another year going by on the home stretch and all I gotta say is, "WHAT A YEAR!"

Damn, somewhere near June or July I was wondering when it would all end but we all just keep dragging through the war torn valleys and eddies of our lives; no rest for the wicked.

I only have a few things left on the table this year to deal with, (actually a lot of things), however, the more pressing details are the last couple of shows.

I have been in the Pueblo for the last two weeks rehearsing and honing up on the Po'Pay Speaks script. It's amazing how much you forget in a short few months. Maybe it's my age. . . What was I just talking about. . . Huh, huh? Heehee.

I've gutted most of the shop to let it rest for the winter and I turned it back into what it original was - living quarters. The Pueblo has no electricity, running water, indoor plumbing, or phones (except my Blackberry - Heehee) However, it's the ancient way to live and I feel it's much better for the mind, body and spirit. There are no electromagnetic waves going constantly, oozing through your body, and it's the perfect way to re-configure life and try to catch up on some much needed rest. But, wow the dreams are intense in a place where your ancestors laid their heads down.

  What are electromagnetic waves my hippie friend, Bob?

Oh hey Moonbeam how's it shining? Well artificial light, microwaves, x-rays, computers, TV, and radio transmissions are all kinds of electromagnetic waves. They are all the same kind of wavy disturbance that are slowly killing us...

Anyways, just in case some of you didn't know what electromagnetic waves were, here it is in laymen's terms or hippie jargon. . . Whatever. . . it's stuff that never lets us rest, it's just STUFF! (By the way, that's my cousin and her hippie friend.)

I wanted to write this blog as the first of many other blogs I'll write on living in the old-village for the next few months. As I laid down looking at the stars through my skylight last night I thought about the accounts of my year; the death of friends, the loss of my faith, and the strength of my body and mind. I missed many ceremonies this year but I look forward to next year with vigor and excitement.

I just wanted to say Thank you!!! from the bottom of my heart. . .

You are all in my prayers and I hope and pray that you can find a place where no man or woman can take away or distract you from finding your true calling. Dream a good tomorrow and bless yesterday goodbye.

Northwest Taos Pueblo by old man Dance Bows house.

Nothing is simple and alone. We are not separate and alone. The breathing mountains, the living stones, each blade of grass, the clouds, the rain, each star, the beasts, the birds and the invisible spirits of the air — we are all one, indivisible. Nothing that any of us does but affects us all.
So I would have you look upon this thing not as a separate simple thing, but as a stone which is a star in the firmament of earth, as a ripple in a pool, as a kernel of corn. I would have you consider how it fits into the pattern of the whole. How far its influence may spread and what it may grow into . . .

Frank Waters from the novel The Man Who Killed the Deer.

Love,
Mirabal

Black Friday / Black Death / Blackmailed

Once again we've come upon the Holiday Season; a deeply religious time for us all when we visit our church of choice by going to the mall. "Black Friday" is the spiritual name which has been given to that Friday following Thanksgiving Day.

It is not a term of endearment.

"Black Friday" officially opens the Christmas shopping season in America (not to be confused with deer, duck, or wild boar season in Kentucky, although there is a fine line.) Just like squirrel season "Black Death Friday" usually brings massive traffic jams and over-crowded sidewalks as the downtown stores are mobbed by consumer zombies from opening to closing.

I never really got into the whole ritual of black-outs, close-outs, and black-Fridays; they sound too much like streets that have been closed down because there's asbestos in the air or a nuclear fallout zone. I just don't walk down those alleys.

So what did we do before gigantic box stores?

Where did we go before Wal-Mart-Fall-Apart?

When did we become what we said we would never become?

We used to build civilizations. 

Now we build shopping malls. . .

"DANG RIGHT! Just build one on top of that 1,000 year old ancient ruin."

The following are just some of the crazy accounts that "Black Friday" has spawned already. Maybe as time rolls by they will just be considered fatal accidents that go along with the season (much like the random tree-stand accident or the accidental shooting of his cousin by Bubba on the opening day of elk hunting in Colorado.)

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, get the hell out of the way..."


Unruly devil spawn shoppers at a store outside Ohio quickly flooded in the doors at opening, pinning several employees against stacks of merchandise.

Nine shoppers in a California mall were injured, including an elderly woman who had to be taken to the hospital, when the crowd rushed to grab gift certificates that had been released from the ceiling.

A mob of approximately 2,000 insane shoppers in New York waited outside for the 5:00 a.m. opening of the local Fart-Mart. As opening time approached the crowd grew anxious and when the doors were finally unlocked the crowd pushed forward, breaking the door down, and trampling a 34 year-old employee to death. The shoppers did not appear concerned with the victim's fate, expressing refusal to halt their stampede when fellow employees attempted to intervene and help the injured employee. The shoppers complained that they had been waiting in the cold and were not willing to wait any longer. Shoppers had begun assembling as early as 9:00 the evening before for a barbecue!!!. Even when police arrived and attempted to render aid to the injured man, shoppers continued to pour in, shoving and pushing the officers as they made their way into the store. Several other people incurred minor consumer injuries, including a pregnant shopaholic woman who had to be taken to the hospital where she later birthed a ten pound baby bouncing demon shopping spawn.

During Black Friday 2010 in Wisconsin a woman was arrested outside of a Toys-R-not-Us store after cutting in line, and threatening to shoot other shoppers who tried to object.

A volunteer in Georgia was stabbed by a shoplifter.

An Indianapolis woman was arrested after causing a disturbance by arguing with other Wal-Mart shoppers. She had been asked to leave the store, but refused.

A man was arrested at a Florida Wal-Mart when other shoppers waiting in line for the store to open noticed that he was carrying a hand-gun (Colt - Peace Maker) and reported the matter to police. He was discovered to also be carrying two knives and and a grenade.

A man in Buffalo was trampled like the days of ole when doors opened at a Target (pronounced Tar Jay) store and unruly shoppers rushed in, in an episode reminiscent of the deadly 2008 Wal-Mart stampede.

HEE HAW!!

Well it sounds like Turkey hunting season in Montana to me. 

Thank God we're living in a country where the Big Sky's the limit, the Big Ass stores are open late, and you can now shop in bed with your crusty shorts on.

Have we really come very far or is it the wild, wild, wild west once more!!

"KILL THEM ALL, LET GOD SORT THEM OUT!" Wild Bill Hiccup.

Have fun on the BLACK FRIDAY RUSH!

This video excerpt below is a good example of where AHH MERICAH might have got the "Notion", or the "Gumption". A good example of the phrase "trampling in our ancestor's footsteps."

Holiday Press Conference and What's Next for MIRABAL

Note regarding this week's blog: Many times I have been asked if I will be doing another show like Music From a Painted Cave? And if I will be working again with the band or with dancers? And are you gonna do another CD? And so on, and so forth.

So I will answer some of those questions in a Mirabal-esque press conference:

Stage Direction:
The atmosphere is a conference room in any hotel chain in the country, stains on the gray carpet, and seats smashed together. There are a dozen or so reporters; some with cameras and some with notebooks and tape recorders. Some just came for the free continental breakfast of watered down orange juice and stale wheat bagels. Mirabal steps in with his little entourage of goons who scour the scene. Mirabal gives his trademark smile, looking a bit ragged with puffy eyes.  

Let's begin. . .

First question comes via our live Facebook stream from RAVEN LOOKS GOOD.


"Will you be doing another tour of Painted Cave? Please come to Hoboken."  

I will not be doing Music From A Painted Cave. Why? Because the cost of booking and managing a large company isn't one of my interests any longer. When I created the show it was, in part, to inspire other artists to follow suit, (although I haven't seen much of it, just some crazy imitations on YouTube.)  Turkey-feather bustles, made in china bead work, and Shami loincloths just don't cut it for me these days.

Next question. You in the back. Do you have a question? Then don't raise your hand. You, the blonde lady in the front. . . Yes, you.

''Do you think you will be doing shows with the band, I sure hope so. I saw you in Seattle and I was. . ."

Okay, I do miss the band and I love traveling with Banda Loca de los Gitanos. Que-malo. But that too can be expensive. Until this country, and its political notions, can start to see the clearer picture about artists (and get their heads out of their asses) then solo-performances, or guest appearances with my trusty brother, Computer-MAC, is the show.

Most decent performers who are young enough (or insane enough) will have to be much more clever in the future in their expressions to the masses if they want to survive financially.

Okay, next question. You in the over-sized wolf t-shirt with the paste on ponytail.  

"When are you gonna do another CD?"


You mean record another project?


"Yes, sorry I didn't mean that, I was just wondering when you were. . ."


Okay, okay, I would like to "do" another Johnny Whitehorse CD, however, that's up to the record label, Silver-wave records. And if I'm gonna do some recording I will offer that for sale via my website (which we are expanding and re-configuring so that fans can download songs, as well as whole CDs and all the new stuff will be there. Stay tuned.

 Next?. . .

(Silence)

Next? Speak up, can't hear too well!

"What's next for you since you have a couple weeks off?"


Good question. . .

Getting ready for winter; slowly getting wood, slowly getting the fields cleaned up, slowly getting things done at the Pueblo house, slowly getting ready to move in so that I can start memorizing and honing up for PO'PAY SPEAKS again for the winter season.  There aren't that many shows - three, actually. However, I have to get in shape once again, beautifying the body and the mind so that Po'Pay can be a rewarding experience for all.

I have been on the move since September after the show closed in Santa Fe. East coast, West coast, Florida, and the Southwest - covering many places in a short period of time. Most of my weekends were spent traveling. There is a demand for what I do, however, the cost sometimes isn't worth the wear and tear on the mind and body as you already know since I have blogged about the many accolades.

Last question. You. Yes, the skinny man in the back who's jumping up and down in his Wilson Phillips t-shirt.

"I would love to see the show Po'Pay Speaks. Where and when?" 

There'll be two in Taos which will be free. One will be in Albuquerque. I'm trying to stay near home. Check out the website for details.

Oh! I will also be in the art studio being clever-minded and creating many different, unique sculptures, amulets, and wearable art for the holiday season, as well as next year's line. I also plan to work on perfecting my moccasin designs. The art studio is where I'm most excited to be as the year winds down. I love to create. If you come to visit I will be in the Pueblo where the shop is in the summer. If you're not nearby check out the shop on Mirabal.com and get some holiday shopping done early.

Thank you for stopping by for the press conference and I better be getting down to business.


Stage Direction:
THE ARTIST KNOWN AS MIRABAL walks out. People linger, some take snapshots, some just stand looking odd, one man stands weeping in the corner while an elderly couple from the Bingo hall next door scam the organic muffins. The reporters converse a bit, wondering aloud once again about Mirabal in the studio.

Did he actually answer questions or make more questions. . . That is the question?

I Used To Smile. . . My Hunting Has Changed

Was talking to a good friend of mine about how life can easily take you where you want to go and how all it takes is to have the positive notions to get there and a bit of knowing what you want.

Most of my life has been spent with the mental struggle of success - what is my success, what was my success, where is my success. As most of you know, growing up on a reservation isn't the best place to find positivity in all its glory; you have to dig a little bit deeper than most to succeed. However, once you realize that to dig is all you need to do to survive and succeed in all the negativity of a tribe, you realize that your climbing up, not digging down, and you see the faces of family and elders in a brighter light. Eventually you see yourself not faking a smile but actually reaching for the stars with a brightened, enlightened smile. . .

At times I have missed my smile. . .

I want to be more positive, not like all the what's-new-on-the-positivity-page-New-Age-Oprah-Winfrey bandwagon; not necessarily a role model either, but a positive individual who can do anything. Just a simple man.

I want this smile again

Here's something I wrote many, many years ago:

Pumpkin had a pellet gun that his mama got for him at Gambles. Junior had a daisy BB gun that his papa got for him at Wackers. I had a sling-shot that Grandpa helped make out of an inner tube and an old oak prong. My pockets were full of just the right size stones, Pumpkin had enough pellets, and Junior had two boxes of BB's and some in his mouth. We went hunting for anything that moved: birds, horses, cats, silver cans. 


We were under a big chokecherry tree waiting for the robins to come back, and chewing on some berries, when Pumpkin picked up an old bucket to sit on and a picture of a big, black, naked lady fell out of it. We just stared at the picture for a spell and then grabbed the book, sat closely around each other, and stared silently as our mouths dried from breathing too hard and deep. We had never seen anything like that.  The closest we'd seen was probably when Miss Plumb, our intern from Boston, went to our gym class with short shorts, and a T-shirt without a bra on, to show us how to use the trampoline.


The heat of the summer day subsided and we were still underneath that chokecherry tree. We laughed, embarrassed and blushing at all the naked ladies. We turned some of the pictures into targets and shot them with Pumpkin's pellet gun and when we hit them near a certain area we laughed out loud and giggled. 


We wondered. . . we wondered. . . we wondered about women from then on. 


We tore the book up, however, we saved some pictures under rocks and old stumps so we could see the pictures privately. I saw Junior fold one up and put it in his shirt pocket. We were walking home when Pumpkin made some excuse that he left a pellet box behind and he went back to the chokecherry tree.


We didn't kill much of anything that day, we just watched and watched, wondered and wondered. I would never look at my teachers and classmates the same ever again. . . 


My hunting had changed.

1996 young is as young does/ youth is wasted on the young (whatever, I had fun - heehee)

So, life changes and goes on.

At times my hunting was about many things from music to women to farming to women again. Hahaha. Just all depends. However, in my life now I can see the positivity of life's changes and tribulations as I've heard before, "The only thing consistent is change."

Cousin Ben snickering, one of my favorite kiva elder Blowing Medicine, Frank Samora, me, and my Mom Geri Mirabal.

Once again, my readers, I love you all.

Strive to be the best in anything you do today, as I will do the same. You can't change the past you can only learn from it and move on.

Be a WARRIOR everyday...

Mirabal

La Familia De Los Muertos: Get Some Sleep Dude!

Okay everyone this blog is for your viewing pleasure. Halloween is my favorite holiday (well it's considered a holiday in the Mirabal household.)

Got home Saturday afternoon from Tuscon (my flight out of Arizona was at 5 a.m. - Ugh!). After the 2.5 hour drive from the Albuquerque airport I immediately got into designing, as well being the make up artist, for the Mirabal familia de los Muertos ensemble. Finally went to bed, way past midnight, then started again on Sunday then again today. . .



Halloween. Halloween. I love the fact that you get to scare the shit out of people and you get good stuff for it. . . When I was a boy I used to be so scared of every little thing and now, as an adult, I can be a kid but without all the freak-out state. I love my little family, they're just as crazy and wild as me.

These were from the last couple days.  Happy Halloween!!! Always strive to be the best you can be - even with a scary mask. . .

Boooohahhhhhaaaaaaa!!!...(cough, cough)

Jet lag and still going for the ghoul

Hermanas de los muerto

Legal Alien Mirabal

Dawn and Masa

La Familia Mirabal de los Muertos

I'd love to see your Halloween pics over on the Facebook page.