Howdy crystalline pal, my name is Zilla.

Oh.. howdy beautiful turtle Zilla. Ahh... You know, no other question churns my guts and membrane like that one my friend. Yet it is undoubtedly the one question I am forever asked the most. You are wise. Let me tell you.

Upon this question, an overwhelming need to quench my thirst becomes priority over replying. As I chock dry, the inquisitive questioner often shows signs of suspicion, at which point I tend to feel there is no escapade. I see it coming upon me, knowing that whatever I answer in shorts will not do justice to my identity.

That is, my identity will not be identified. If the questioner does not identify, he/she does not empathise. The result? Instead of drawing closeness, it produces aversion. Thus the next trail is often one of conspicuous perception, often expressed right out loud. SPLASH! ..like a swelling wave of size unknown..surf it deep, surf it shallow.

If the answer is mildly lengthy, it feeds ego. In silent projection, or not so, the questioner belittles him/herself as being ‘oh so not interesting him/herself’. Equivalent to saying ‘thou who are so great, inflated ego you've got!'

If a conversation does ensure then I am often blatantly accused of being cagey. Yet my wariness stems from a place of genuinely wanting to make the other feel special, as opposed to myself, especially upon first meeting.

Anyhow, what eludes me is how anyone would ask this upon first meeting. It baffles me how a person’s past, a persons origins become priority over his/her present and where they are at.

What eludes the other is that the initial chocking seems but a biochemical reaction to my guts and membrane’s enormous requirement for liquid for optimun function. That is, both guts and brain membrane are the first tissues to suffer from dehydration. When energy affects them, liquid is their first call for aid. Reacting to reaction, the energy flow must find its way. As all is energy, as energy is never static and always expressed, upon this question I just need a drink!

Now that we’ve cleared that out. Let’s begin.

I am a child of Earth.

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Some may find that a bit far out. Actually, I am not far out, you Zilla know that. Fact is, much the opposite is true. I could easily say I am a child of the Universe. Home is the MilkyWay. I am a child of the Sun and of Sirius, the , the Sun's sun as acknowledge by the Maya too. I worship the Sun, always have, from my heart, as with Terra, they intrinsicly power our existence. Indeed I can say I am a child of Existence. I come from God, from Prime Creator. I come from the ionized electron. However I understand these could sound far out, so I stick to Earth.

By the way, I do not come from the monkey and I do not come from sub-Saharan Africa. I do not mean that in terms of separation. Of course ultimately the monkey and the whole of Africa and I are One. But you know... some people affirm they originate from the monkey. I have no reason to disbelieve what they say in regards to their own case, but it is not my case.

‘I am a citizen of the world’ reply many of my ancestors including my mum and dad. So too have I often replied. However I have now moved to the term Earth due to a keen acute awareness that Mother Earth is the absolute giver and sustainer of my current life on this plane, with the Suns, of course. No doubt without Mother Earth I would be not. All credit to her regarding my identity and sustainability. Indeed I need little if else but that which she generously constantly nurtures me with, on a constant basis. Oh no. I do not take it for granted.

That, which everything and everyone else gives me is ever welcome and ever appreciated, like gifts from life. Those are supports to my existence, but not needs -link to follow soon here-.

And that’s were I am at. How did I get here? Where do I come from? I'll tell you in a mo. Bare with me.

Some say ‘oh, but you have no roots!’ I say I am rooted where I am at, wherever I happen to be at. I have few needs but how easy I do grow ..in roots. To those who question my roots I ask, Do you know your great-grandparents name? Are you aware of your plasma origin? ..because I DO. -link here soon to follow-

Yes, planet Earth is my home. How deeply aware I am to be this privileged, to feel thus so far during my sojourn on Earth. Thank you Mother Earth, I bow to you. I lay at your feet.

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But who is your family? What’s your nationality? What’s your identity? Who are your ancestors?

Family? Those with integrity, them who do not deny unity, who know how to share and accept you as one of their own. They are those who do not build boundaries and who smash them bravely when they find them. Family too is nature with all it beholds, trees, bees, mountains, winds and peoples of the world. The term family is not bound to blood alone.

Identity? Where else would my mummu-nanny fit in if not here? The most beautiful woman in the world Siiri Jolkonen was my mum’s nanny too, but she is grandma to me and the root of my ethics. The people that lovingly breed you, cultures one absorbs, communities one inhabits be it cyber-worlds, are they not all from-comings?

Nationality? Last time I counted 27 countries I resonate in with ...going on 28. They all hold a minor or major chunk of my heart. Others, I tune in with occasionaly, as every place I find contagious in love.

If the question is blood? I am olive, I am red, I am white, I am yellow, I am crystal. I am Mediterranean, Scandinavian, Latin-American-Caribbean-Jew mixed Nordic-Gypsy with a hint of Red on both sides. –Fill in one of those forms for ethnic equality purposes!-

So aks me again. Where is u from? In this day and age... I is from Hackney. London is home.

'But I mean originally.' You mean ...genetically? Shall we look at the origin of the gene first then? DNA, rDNA, imploding pulse, vortex motion, dimensional frequency, unique wave-length? C what I mean...

Ok, so you would like to know something slightly less electron-ic in nature regarding my genetic ancestry. Man! What it takes to be specific!

Ancestry then? Here I go...just. I am half Scandinavian half Latin American to put it simply.

Descendant of Masonic stock from the Carebbean on my father’s side. Here’s a link which takes me back to the beginning of the 1800's. Once in, type Alvarez Correa. Stories of Caribbean Sephardim.

Direct stock from a Nordic female industrialist and diplomat Consul Rosa Salmelin on my mother’s side. She is great-grandma Rosa Aleksandra Lemberg, a swedish-gypsy born 18.10.1890 in Lempäälä, Finland. She married Sulo Toivo Valdemar Salmelin born 12.11.1883 in Jyväskylä son of Maria Toivontytär Nieminen and Erkki Salmelin son of Ulrika Jaakontytär Ström and Juho Hermanni Eliaksenpoika Salmelin born 22.05.1822 in Uurainen son of Elias Heikinpoika Salmelin and Heta Simontytär. That is, the last Elias and Heta are my great-great-great-great-grandparents who take me back to the 1700's. Tree here with further bios in Finnish.

Great-granny Rosa owned amongst other the Pyynikki Brewery in Tampere and Porin Olut in Pori, later known as Karhu beer. Also more on her career as consul here. Yet another link

But hey! note that none of the breweries nor palaces belong to my family in the present time, nor any temples or enterprises of any kind in the Caribbean either. We are free of possessions and free of mundane wealth.

More I will share soon. I promise. Anyhow now you know, somewhere between Curacao’s colonials via Brazil-Holland-Spain and Genghis Khan’s tribe my genes were fused.

Now Mr Zilla of the Chiguaguan desert, please do tell me, who are you?

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My name is Zilla. I am a male. I live in a water tank 3-4 times the size of my body.

My geo-magnetic sensors within my biogenetic structure tells me to head North, East ..what direction, where can i go? ..I barely fit sideways here. 2-3 laps in a single narrow pre-determined direction and back again. My DNA is suffering so. In the deep side I can just about stretch but never fully covered. I have no access to mud nor fresh water here, let alone females nor mates of my own species. I am alone in isolation. I shout out, I wisper in agony to humans begging them to free me, but they choose not to listen.

Watch me on VIDEO here (apologies properly embedding video seems to be a problem here at gandi.net). Follow the link but come back. I have more to share with you.

I am in the Museum of Natural History, 700 S. Telshor Blvd. #1608 Las Cruces, NM 88011, New Mexico USA.

PLEASE HELP ME!

You may call the Museum Manager Michael Walczak on 1- 575-532-3369 or write an email to mwalczak@las-cruces.org requesting my release into the wild or at least support my right to a bigger home. The so called Naturalist in charge is Richard Quick phone 1-575-532-3371 email richard.quick@las-cruces.org

You may also raise awareness of my existence and harrowing situation with a short review on the museum's Trip Advisor page, and at the New York Times online Las Cruces Travel Guide. Your effort, time and attention is appreciated beyond words.

Perhaps you know someone close enough who could come to the rescue in person. I often look at people, with their benevolent eyes, big jackets and big bags...what can I say. Maybe one day someone will listen to my heart's call. I have a heart, you know?

I may live much longer than you. Why should I be part of a Museum!? Like you, I want to experience Earth. Like you I AM ALIVE ! I wanna be with you Mother Earth, amongst you humans, the free. This is my time, this is my live! TIME. If I could turn back time, still I would trust humans to use their intelligence, or so they should have. I mean, what's the point of holding a dormant intelligence? Sincerely.

Why are humans so cruel to keep me here in these Dickensian conditions? What habitat does one dwell in? Why are humans so short-sighted not to even see their own short-comings, how their lack of love affects me effecting themselves. Why do they not know of love and compassion?! Why do they buy into fear, as if they would protect me by keeping me here? Why under such excuse do they condemn me to death and bury me in disdain when I AM ALIVE!

Why then all sulked and shamed will they revere me the day I really am dead! Why do their hearts wrench? .. because they choose not to love, I can only guess.

What does it matter where one comes from when one is forcefully displaced. What does it matter when one is not able to come nor to go. What does it matter when the now is not considered. Consider this.

Please, take 1 minute. Close your eyes. Feel your heart. Broadcast some LOVE. Feed me some love, feed yourself some love.

If you ask me where do I come from, I'd say I come from LOVE, my friend.

Crissalida

Copyright © 2011 C Correa All rights reserved. Any unauthorised public performance, copying or adaptation will constitute an infringement of copyright and will be prosecuted.