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Zamurito wrote:~
"Do you think that you and I are equal?" he asked in a sharp voice.
His question caught me off guard.
Don Juan watched my movements with apparent fascination.
"Well... are we equals?" he asked.
"Of course we're equals," I said.
I was, naturally, being condescending - treating others with arrogance, or patronizing those considered inferior. I felt very warm towards him even though at times I did not know what to do with him. Yet I still held in the back of my mind, although I would never voice it, the belief that I- being a university student; a man of the sophisticated Western world- was superior to an Indian.
"No," he said calmly, "we are not."
"Why, certainly we are," I protested.
"No," he said in a soft voice. "We are not equals. I am a hunter and a warrior, and you are a pimp."
My mouth fell open. I could not believe that don Juan had actually said that. I dropped my notebook, and stared at him dumbfoundedly; and then, of course, I became furious.
He looked at me with calm and collected eyes. I avoided his gaze.
And then he began to talk. He enunciated his words clearly. They poured out smoothly and deadly. He said that I was pimping for someone else; that I was not fighting my own battles, but the battles of some unknown people; that I did not
want to learn about plants or about hunting or about anything; and that his world of precise acts and feelings and decisions was infinitely more effective than the blundering idiocy I called 'my life'.
After he finished talking I was numb. He had spoken without belligerence or conceit, but with such power, and yet such calmness, that I was not even angry any more.
We remained silent. I felt embarrassed and could not think of anything appropriate to say. I waited for him to break the silence.
Journey to Ixtlan
Maiveeta wrote:I just want to tuck this here while I ponder it... The missing piece by Shel Silverstein
The story centers on a circular animal-like creature that is missing a wedge-shaped piece of itself. It doesn’t like this, and sets out to find its missing piece, singing:
Oh, I'm lookin' for my missin' piece
I'm lookin' for my missin' piece
Hi-dee-ho, here I go
lookin' for my missin' piece
It starts out on a grand adventure searching for the perfect piece to complete itself, while singing and enjoying the scenery. But after the circle finally finds the exact-sized wedge that fits it, it begins to realize that it can no longer do the things it used to enjoy doing, like singing or rolling slowly enough to enjoy the company of a worm or butterfly. It decides that it was happier when searching for the missing piece than actually having it. So it gently puts the piece down, and continues happily searching.
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