Bel Air!

Fred Astaire in “You were never lovelier,” filmed in Buenos Aires:

Buenos Aires, Argentina has been on my mind since I was a teenager. It was actually the first place I dreamed of traveling to even when I had no concept of what “travel” was. My only travel up to that point was moving from Haiti at the age of six to New York City after my father was assassinated by Poppa Doc Duvalier. I was introduced to “Bel Air” in the same way that I was introduced to most things, from watching television. As a child, there were no other distractions such as the internet or game consoles. When we weren’t in school, the neighborhood kids spent all day outside playing sports (Chinese handball, basketball, stickball, stoopball, touch football), games (Ringalario (sp?) 1,2,3, Skullsies, and some other games that for the life of me I can’t remember!), or just hanging out on the stoops. Then we’d go home and for me and my sister, we’d watch hours and hours of television. I’m certain it was just as bad as the kids today on the internet, but we definitely spent more time outside playing and television was something to do in the morning or after dark. We certainly weren’t watching television instead of playing.

I particularly loved the old movies, the classics, and would watch them again and again. I especially loved Fred Astaire, who left a strong imprint on me. To this day, I still wear sashes sometimes instead of a belt, and this came straight from Fred Astaire. I can’t say that I ever thought that I wanted to be him, but I certainly wanted to dress and dance like him, and I believe that my ridiculously over-the-top romanticism, bordering on the absurd is attributable to him as well. Remember: I was just about 13 years old!

So my introduction to Buenos Aires was in his movie “You were never lovelier,” co-starring Rita Hayworth. Interestingly, they were constantly referring to being in “Bel Air.” I actually didn’t make the connection that “Bel Air” was actually Buenos Aires, Argentina. Based on the movie and my 13 year-old eyes, I had the impression that Buenos Aires was the exotic place of opulence and high fashion. Those movie sets were fabulous! I dreamed of one day joining the jet set lifestyle portrayed in that movie.

Buenos Aires again entered into my mind when I was confronted with one of my first important decisions as an adult. Dominique, a French modern dancer I fell in love with was doing an internship with the Merce Cunningham Dance Company. Her intention was to adventure in New York City for a year or two and then continue the adventure in Buenos Aires. Dominique never put any pressure on me, but her student visa had already expired one year before, and I knew that at that moment, it was either propose marriage or she would disappear forever. I proposed and we were married for 14 years and shared three beautiful children.

In my heart what I really wanted to do was to break free of my established thought patterns and well-laid plans to go to medical school and join her in Buenos Aires. Alas, I was a coward and couldn’t get beyond my mental constructs about completing my education and becoming a doctor. That’s one perspective. The other, which still seems like a copout to me, is that it just wasn’t my path at that time; and that the Universe had other plans for me. But what if?

I was reminded of that fork in the road in 2004. I had just left Dominique (my lovely first wife and mother of my beautiful 3 children) after 14 years, and three months later took a trip to India. I was presenting a poster at the International Emergency Medicine Conference in Mumbai (formerly Bombay), but scheduled a week in Goa before the conference. While there I was hanging out with four young British guys and two Irish women, who were all in their early twenties. I was 43 at the time. We were having dinner one night at Little Vagador Beach and someone asked the group what regrets we had in life. What was so interesting was that they each expressed, in their own individual manner, that what they regretted the most was not having started to travel sooner in their lives. What was remarkable about this was the fact that they had all already been on the road for one to two years, and their major regret was not having started sooner. Imagine how I felt?!

Long after that evening was over, that significance of that question continued to haunt me. I was caught up with becoming a doctor, followed by developing a career in academic emergency medicine, publishing papers, titles, and promotions. I got lost. Just before that trip in 2000, I had finally summoned the cajones, the balls, to at least temporarily leave it all behind. Dominique and I decided to spend six months in Southern Italy and then another six months in Brazil. The idea was to have a family adventure and then even after we returned to the reality of earning dollars in New York City, we would continue the adventure. When I was hired as the Program Director of the Emergency Medicine Residency Program at St. Luke’s-Roosevelt in New York City, I actually had it in my contract that I would be away for three months every year. Then life intervened and we divorced. The dream was put on the back burner and forgotten. Puta qui Pariú! I still wonder what would have happened if we would have hit the road and never looked back!

So now at the age of 56, I find myself today, by accident, in Buenos Aires. I’m exhausted, spent, and energetically bankrupt after working 39 night shifts in 45 days (WTF was I thinking?!!!), and on the second to last shift before my trip, I came down with a terrible viral syndrome (headache, cough, sneezing, fever, chills, generalized bodyaches and malaise), which made the 20 hours of travel with three of the four connecting flights hell because of the pressure changes in my sinuses. To make matters worse, the third flight was delayed so I missed my connection from Buenos Aires to Punta del Este, Uruguay, where I was supposed to meet my fiancée Ale, who was competing in an Iron Man Competition. There weren’t any other flights until the next day, and I couldn’t find any buses or ferries either. I missed her Iron Man and was stranded in Buenos Aires for one day, too damn sick and tired to make the most of it. I did manage to sleep, which was a blessing, and I found this lovely café, “Dandy,” where I spent part of the day writing. It was a gloriously sunny day and it occurred to me that I hadn’t been in the sun for 45 days since I was working nights and the weather was mostly overcast during that time in Binghamton, New York, where I was working. I mentioned elsewhere that up until I was about 40, I used to suffer from “Seasonal Affective Disorder” and would become extremely moody during the long, dark winter months. I hadn’t experienced this for years but I’m sure it contributed to my viral syndrome and feeling like shit, as though working 39 night shifts in 45 days wasn’t enough! So I took a hike into La Plaza de San Martín, which was just next to the café Dandy, found a spot, took off my shirt and just luxuriated in that glorious Bel Air sunshine caressing my abused, overworked and insufficiently pampered body. The good news was that: 1) I felt much better; and 2) I was so looking forward to getting to Punta del Este in the next few hours and to be in the arms of the love of my life Alexandra. After a few days in Punta del Este we’ll return to Buenos Aires, which she apparently knows very well and I’ll get to know the city through her eyes. There’s no better way to acquaint oneself with a city than through the eyes of one who is intimate with it.

So what did I learn from working that amount of night shifts (39) in such a short time frame (45 days)? Well first and foremost: Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!: 2) I’ll never do that again!; 3) Despite my perception/belief that I am making progress in this human realm, the fact is that I’m still incredibly hard-headed and apparently have been remediating this very same course at the University of the Universe (U of U), entitled “Let it all go or suffer through an infinite number of lifetimes.” The main point of the course, listed in bold letters on the course brochure, and taught on the very first day of the course with the very clear message that everything that would follow was based on this one point. More over, the objective of the course was not to build on one’s knowledge or self, as was the case in most other courses, but rather to demolish all knowledge and concepts of self and the final paper, would be on letting go of the self. It seemed like it was going to be such an easy, fluff course to balance all those “heavy” courses. It was even pass/fail so I didn’t even has to worry about it affecting my GPA. However, this one f*cking course has had me in this University of the Universe for way too many lifetimes!

The main and only point is the one that keeps tripping me up and sending me back to the starting line- just like that game we used to play as children, “Red light, green light 123- is basically Obiwan Kenobi’s message to Luke Skywalker in the Star Wars IV episode “The New Hope”: “Put your instruments down and let the Force guide you.” Another way of saying the same thing is: “You’re f*cking drunk and even when you’re not, Consciousness/God/the Force is a better driver, so give up your f*cking keys dude!”

I’ve been on this ride long enough to know that whenever my “will” gets involved, things get buggered. So why do I condemn myself to this self-flagellation? It boils down to a lack of trust in the Universe, believing that I am separate from Consciousness and have some degree of control over my life (Haha!!!). I know intellectually how ridiculous this idea of control, or even the illusion of control is, but to actually let it all go is quite a challenge. It’s as impossible as trying to drown yourself without a weight to keep you down. The survival mechanism reigns supreme.

So what did I learn?: 1) There’s still a “doer” that believes that it needs to do something- earn dollars, pay bills. I can already hear the objections. Believe me, I’m way ahead of you! As Jed says, it’s not that I have to stop working but I do have to let go of the belief that there’s an “I” that has to work. Note that this is not merely a semantic proposition, which for a long time I thought it was. It goes really deep. After letting go of the “doer,” I’ll do what I do because I have my lines to read and this Divine Comedy must go on, but the belief that I am this character and that the lines are of my creation and control will drop out. What a mindfuck! Maybe I just need to let all this bullshit go and just get on with it!

I am an emergency physician, writer and a lover of life. The purpose of this blog is to share my ideas, experiences and perspectives as they relate to Consciousness, and as they evolve. Consciousness encompasses everything in my life, your life, the world, the Universe — in other words — EVERYTHING! As the great Shaman Don Diego used to say: “It’s not the most important thing, and it’s not the least important thing…It’s the ONLY thing!”

Check out my novel: “The Twin Flames, the Master, and the Game”! It’s available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Balboa Press.