Music… A Family Affair, the foods to our soul, a constant reminder of our awakening joy….

 

By Karla Mundo

Giancarlo has been blessed with a musical ear since a very early age. I always noticed his appreciation for classical music and how it soothed him and made him happy. He loved his lullabies and learned to complete motivational songs that inspired me—songs I sang to him while jogging when he was a little younger than a year old.

Although Manuel and I have no music degrees, we both share a passion for songs. Manuel did get some musical training during his college years by singing in a choir. In our first years of marriage, Manuel learned some mariachi and other Spanish songs to bring back memories of Mexico when I was nostalgic or homesick.

Manuel’s love for music can be heard in his voice. I used to cry listening to his unique interpretations of an opera, a classic choir song, or a passionate mariachi song. I really think Manuel missed following his call as a musician, but I still like the idea that he did not give it all up.

For the past 15 years, besides being a loving and caring chiropractor and a mentor to Giancarlo, Manuel has also been a piano player and a singer. He always has a song or two to play when he comes home from a busy office day, and I love that! Manuel's beautiful voice and his ability to play the keyboard have been gifts that Giancarlo has embraced since he was in my belly.

When I was pregnant with GC, I used to go to Manuel’s weekly rehearsals with a choir he joined at that time. I remember GC kicking and almost dancing in my womb; I knew he was happy to hear the music. For me, the choir members' interpretations always touched deep into my heart.

GC and I bonded over many special lullaby songs, and as GC was growing, we went from Jose Luis Orozco and Raffi to popular songs by Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, John Legend, The Beatles, etc.

Although I never had music training as a child, I am passionate about songs. The lyrics speak to my soul, and I believe in the power of music. I just cannot imagine a world without music!

I am aware that I was not born with the amazing musical talent of Celine Dion, Christina Aguilera, Mariah Carey, or Shakira, but no one could take from me the love for singing. During my college years, I took every opportunity I had to do karaoke, and believe me, it takes strength to sing when you know you are out of tune, not reaching the notes, or insecure about not having had formal singing training. Regardless, I sang my heart out during karaoke nights in Ensenada, and lately, I have been thinking about how much I miss singing like I used to do in Mexico.

I feel that if you do not take your rhythms and your music with you to the places you migrate, your soul slowly starts dying.  Especially if you live in neighborhoods or cities where no one seems to listen to the radio anymore. It is hard to believe, but in my neighborhood, I have never heard a radio or anyone singing other than Manuel or me, and there are more than 400 people here!

In a busy country like the USA, music can be lost if you don’t keep singing. It feels as if singing is seen as a distraction from working or makes people too joyful, so it seems to be forbidden from daily activities. Lately, teens seem immersed in computers and cell phones. I do not see many teens singing like I used to do in Mexico—out loud, in the car, at all times, etc. That really worries me! A world without music is a world without emotions, feelings, and joy.

It almost seems that we are the odd, weird family that dares to turn on the radio on any given day of the week and sing out loud. If we turn it off, a silence that feels cold like death descends upon the neighborhood. That is really crazy considering that we are alive!

I just cannot comprehend why neighbors do not sing their lungs out. I do not think there is such a thing as “not all of us are into music.” No, if music is the food of our souls, we all should be feeding our souls by singing. We all have a heart song, right?

We love gathering around the keyboard to sing with Manuel, from classical Disney songs to our traditional Christmas songs. Our love affair with music will continue with Giancarlo learning to play instruments, and we will encourage him to keep singing. We hope that all kids in school are given more opportunities for music classes.

Besides the language development and other benefits associated with music, it has been my experience as a music lover that music can help us become more sensitive, develop empathy for the world of cultures out there, and guide us on a path to peace.

In educating our children, we must not take from them their innate love for composing music, for performing, or for feeling in touch with lyrics that promote change, justice, love, and peace.

Music really communicates that which cannot be put in words and all that cannot remain silent. It is truly the food of our souls, and if we do not feed it, what kind of soul will we have?

 

 The constant whoosing in my brain

By Karla Mundo

There is an incessant whooshing sound on the right side of my brain that has, little by little, been taking away my life. It started on June 14, 2020, a few days before my birthday. I had barely recovered from the devastating symptoms of COVID-19, which had left me bedridden and extremely fatigued during the Christmas of 2019.

I remember coming home late from a wonderful night in San Diego. As we were parking, I heard a very loud sound, like someone doing laundry. I told my husband, “Someone is washing late,” as it was midnight. That night, I thought what I heard was external—a sound that would end or go away as soon as a machine was turned off. It turned out that no one was washing; I was the only one hearing what has since become a permanent frequency in my right hemisphere.

Three years have passed since then, and although the sound sometimes fades, it is always there. How could I have imagined that my life was going to enter such a dark abyss—a loop of searching for answers and having to live with something I was not born with?

As the days passed and the overwhelming sound took over my sleep, I began to develop severe anxiety. I called the emergency nurse for several nights in a row. My heart was agitated and experiencing arrhythmias; I truly thought I was having a stroke or an aneurysm. Since then, I have given this frequency the benefit of the doubt.

I thought that maybe it wasn't a physical warning, but a spiritual one. I went to a healer who told me about the ability some people develop to hear the vibration of the Earth. She suggested perhaps a message from another realm was trying to reach me. It was a "gift," she mentioned—and as such, I tried to embrace it. But I wondered: how could a gift cause such stress, sadness, and worry?

A friend suggested I shouldn't pay it too much attention. She told me a story of a time she had a similar sound that eventually went away. I was hopeful and optimistic that mine would come to an end, too. So, I ignored it and ignored it... but unfortunately, it remained.

Many people spoke to me about their tinnitus. My doctor even wrote "tinnitus" in my chart, although it did not match the sounds or symptoms I had. I was referred from specialist to specialist. The ENT checked my ear canals and found no infection. He ordered a CT scan of my brain and ears to ensure there was no tumor. I went to a neurologist who did not think it was COVID-related and had no explanation for it. She implied it was mental—as if I were imagining the sound—and suggested a psychologist. With every doctor’s visit, my anger and frustration grew. I knew there was something physically wrong.

How could doctors disregard my concerns and the fact that this sound was consuming me, deteriorating my quality of life, simply because they did not know what it was?

With no other choices available in the medical field, I tried changing my diet, exercising, and meditating. I finally came to accept that perhaps years of chronic inflammation and insulin resistance due to a lack of sleep were the culprits, yet there was still no cure and no diagnosis.

On the second anniversary of living with this constant, malfunctioning frequency, my only birthday wish was for the sound to end. Instead, I experienced a year of terrible stomach pains that led to more doctors, studies, and biopsies. "It is not cancer," they said, telling me to check back in five years. It has been exhausting trying to find optimal health only to have something else happen to my body. I intend for health and answers daily, but are there always answers? Perhaps not.

I tried to let it go. It has been 6 years now. I focused on my son’s home education and spent as much time outdoors as possible. I realized that the sounds of cars, ocean waves, and loud music made the whooshing feel as if it never existed. My chiropractor husband has poured every ounce of his knowledge and love into helping me. We hoped and brainstormed together, waiting for results, yet the loud sound remained.

I often wonder: could the sound in my brain be my body telling me that something is deeply wrong with my health? I do not know for certain; I am just trying to figure out why this high-frequency sound in my right brain is still here. It definitely gets louder with stress, and my lack of proper sleep less. No matter what pills or breathing techniques I try, my sleep is dysregulated.

To me, it would make more sense if doctors acknowledged the coincidence that the sound started just after I recovered from a severe case of COVID-19. What if there was an infection that never truly healed? It couldn’t be, right? Not since the ENT assured me there was no infection.

It would also make sense if doctors considered that my chronic insomnia was finally affecting my brain. After all, I have been waking up at 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning for the past 18 years. I am unable to get my usual eight hours of sleep regardless of valerian root, melatonin, relaxing songs, meditation, or chants. I am still a mother and a wife with a full-time routine, educating a teenager while functioning on half the sleep I need.

One  night, I broke into tears, as I have done many times during these episodes. This is certainly not the "normal" sound humans go to bed and awaken with. It is impossible to function happily 24/7 without rest. It is heartbreaking; it weakens me to the point where I don’t know if I will wake up or die from such reduced sleep. 

Some days, sadness and frustration invade me, and I feel hopeless. Issues like this certainly impact your marriage and your relationships with others. I hope to find a guide, a guru, a healer, or a doctor who reads my case and remembers another exactly like it—one with a solution.

I hope to recover my strength and my life. I wish I could tell you that everything is awesome with my health! I think most of us who cannot solve our health riddles just want to be healthy. I cannot imagine someone waking up happy to be ill or happy to be in pain.

In all this agony, I am grateful for the moments I can connect with others. I am grateful for my ability to laugh and enjoy the beauty of God’s presence in many forms. I am searching for a miracle.

I still have memories of a time when I slept profoundly, without a whooshing sound echoing through my dreams. I know for sure that rest brought laughter, true joy, and quality of life.

Have you ever experienced a sound, or a chronic condition or illness, that never goes away?

 

 

Nacimos libres, un llamado al despertar de nuestra conciencia

Por Karla Mundo

A todos en el mundo quienes se despiertan y cada día usan sus libertades no solo para su propio beneficio, sino para promover las de otros individuos que viven en opresión. A quienes se desprenden del egoísmo de solo ver por ellos mismos y luchan por mejores condiciones humanas de aquellos ciudadanos que no gozan de los mismos privilegios. A quienes usan su voz en protesta de gobiernos tiránicos. A quienes han perdido la vida en la lucha por la justicia y la libertad.

A todos quienes el destino nos llevo a un pais ajeno en el cual aprendimos una segunda lengua no solo por necesidad  y poder darnos a entender, sino porque, con valentía, nos enfrentábamos a diario a la tarea de educar a quienes  en su ignorancia expresaban comentarios encajonados, cerrados y sin fundamento sobre nuestra nacionalidad o  país  de orígen; una cultura que no conocían.

A quienes usamos la segunda lengua como única forma de poder comunicar lo que llevamos en el alma. A quienes aprendimos una segunda lengua para educar a otros sobre la cruel realidad que está escrita en la historia —que yo no me inventé— sobre el terrible impacto que el imperialismo, las monarquías, el absolutismo, la opresión y las tiranías han tenido sobre la población mundial.

Durante Covid19  globalmente vivimos  las imposiciones mandatorias de usar máscaras y vacunas como única forma de “volver a la normalidad”, de poder viajar, de poder ir al mercado, de tener trabajo, de visitar a la familia, de ir a la escuela; imposiciones que sustituyeron la libertad por un mandato que, de no seguirse,dejó huellas devastadoras en las pequeñas empresas, en profesionistas que se negaron a la imposición y en millones de familias a quienes muchos han etiquetado y condenado como anti-vaxxers y que en realidad son humanos despiertos en conciencia, profesionistas educados, madres y padres que se interesan por el bienestar natural de los  suyos y de todos lo seres humanos y se han convertido en pro-derechos humanos, pro-derechos individuales, pro-libertadores.

Me pregunto: ¿Qué es en verdad la libertad? ¿Es acaso la libertad otorgada solo a un porcentaje de individuos que  durante COVID19 puedieron gozar vacaciones e ir a trabajar, mientras cientos y miles otros fueron forzados a dejar sus empleos por no vacunarse? ¿Crees que controlar, manipular o imponernos sobre otros humanos o países nos hace libres?

Si te conformaste con las imposiciones y lo hiciste por la presión de tus amistades, colegas o el presidente de tu país; o por no perder tu trabajo, por viajar por el mundo, por entrar a restaurantes, por miedo a enfermarte o por la convicción de que la vacuna era la solución, fue opcional: tenemos libre albedrío. Si te sentiste forzado o forzada, lo siento, porque nadie debe tener derecho sobre tu humanidad. Comprendo de dónde vino tu decisión.

Sin embargo, la respuesta a tu decisión no debe ser imponer una opción a millones de personas que tienen razones para no inyectarse algo que consideran tóxico y que les ha dejado sin trabajo, sin posibilidades de educación, de viajar o de vivir. Todos hemos sido testigos de los estragos de salud y la muerte que la vacuna causó a cientos de quienes lo reportaron a las bases de datos.

De un humano a otro humano… No es derecho de nadie imponerse ante una decisión que debe ser personal, no una decisión pública.

Pienso que somos “la raíz de un grito destinado a crecer y estallar”. Nacimos libres después de que nos cortaran el cordón umbilical que nos conectaba a nuestra madre. Fuimos dotados de un cuerpo sano y maravilloso que sabe sanar todo tipo de enfermedades, incluyendo el cáncer. Tenemos un cuerpo que, bien nutrido, crece y se fortalece; un cuerpo que sabe desarrollar habilidades y talentos excepcionales. Nuestro cuerpo, no le pertenece a una corporación, no estamos a disposición de los intereses de quienes usan al ser humano para experimentar y acaudalar riquezas.

No se trata de Trump o de Biden. No, me interesa saber si eres republicano o demócrata, sino cuán humano puedes actuar, sentir, conectarte. Somos una sola raza humana; no hay superiores ni inferiores, aunque algunos crean lo opuesto y lo repitan como un mantra y se lo crean, y aunque muchos hayan usado este sistema de creencias para odiar a otros con distinto color,  status social,cultura o credo.

Todos en el mundo son tus hermanos y hermanas, y si otros sufren en beneficio de tu propio crecimiento económico, eso no te hace mejor ser humano. No debemos valorar más el éxito, la fama, los reconocimientos a consecuencia de perder nuestra humanidad. Estamos conectados unos a otros más de lo que queremos aceptar. Lo que le sucede a alguien en tu casa, vecindario, ciudad u otro país —aunque tratemos de ocultarlo, de no involucrarnos, de no empatizar o no sentir— eventualmente causará una consecuencia en nuestro camino.

Tenemos la oportunidad hoy, y todos los días, de regresar a nuestra humanidad, esa que parece perdida en el mundo virtual y cibernético, sin emociones o sensibilidad por los demás. 

¡Unámonos en lugar de aislarnos o dejarnos separar! No hay poder más grande que el amor por todos los seres vivientes y, en el nombre de ese amor, te pregunto: ¿Qué vas a hacer en apoyo a las necesidades de otros, y no solo las tuyas?

 

 

 

Empty Hangers

by Karla Mundo

 

Looks that no one will see, fashion that every year expires, weight never lost, clothes never worn. I counted hundreds of empty hangers, one for each pound not detached from my waist line. I counted a hanger for every carb I have avoided in hopes of getting back to my ideal pre-diabetes, high-cholesterol diagnosis.

Empty hangers remind me today that some blouses, pants, sweaters have been too “tight” cramped in the closet next to each other. Too tight on my body to wear them in spite of my constant walks, exercise, change of diets. I know well that high Cortisol levels and sugar resistance are the duo that do not allow me to sleep and hold tight to my weight.

Empty hangers remind me of so much more that I need to empty. I need to empty my heart of frustrations and anger from trying and trying and falling off the wagon over and over for the past so many years.

Empty hangers remind me of not emptying my heart—I need that full of hope, dreams, New Year’s resolutions. I need my mind in a present and future life free of chronic insomnia and log-haul post- Covid whooshing in my ear.

Empty hangers… I counted hundreds. One for each day I woke up in fear and pain during the 2021 Covid contagion. One for each tear for the many people we humans lost. Empty hangers for our own lost of health and our desperation when weeks went by not healing what in my ear seems a constant radio frequency that cannot get the right signal.

Empty hangers where filled with too many of the same garments. Why do I need 50 blouses, that I cannot wear all at once? Why do I need 20 of the same jeans,

t-shirts of all different colors, sweaters or any other clothes than those designed for wearing at home? I use to work outside and still my hangers were not nearly as many as the ones I counted this time.

I do not know why, but the hangers made me look around my small place, which seems filled with things compared to my possessions as a child. I thought of how many things one can posses and organize. How many shoes, towels, blankets, books, plates. All things I appreciate and value, treasure and use. Still they are things that have given me the endless work of dedicating time to organize.

Empty hangers once where filled with the joy of Giancarlo’s outfits that he outgrew while becoming a teenager, leaving many countless beautiful memories of childhood, milestones and years that flew way too fast.

I think empty hangers made me nostalgic, pensive of the empty nest some say you feel when their kids go to college. 
I can only imagine. I think the empty hangers remind me of the many times, (way too many in 22 years 17) I have emptied closets, cabinets, drawers while in the middle of relocating.

Empty hangers remind me of the void that elders, friends, kids and many of us felt during the years of Covid separation-isolation. The void that can be felt in a home when no visitors knock on your door.

Empty hangers make me think of the emptiness a human can feel when not connecting, not communicating, not feeling the love but the constant separation from differences of opinions, religions, beliefs.

What are your empty hangers telling you? What are they reminding you to take care of?