the cat meows
i have no answer
so tired, so empty, so worn
the fire cracks
soon every tree
will be burned up
appetite lags
a christmas cold
piles on to this aching back
all is scattered
friends drift
from this borderline behavior
homeless next week
will i rally
to the call to travel
or give in
to the winter's
frozen development?
the cat meows
i have no answer
but this:
god has left me
a windy mind
filled
with ruinous self-doubt
and then forgot
to close the door
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
today
and the time is upon us, now is forever
tomorrow is just one of yesterday's dreams
--John Denver
well hallelujah for the sun's return
as this darkness in turn must give way
a long year of slipping health and confidence
losing what muscle mass i had
while moving a half dozen times
including again
today
i enjoyed snow covered indian country vistas
rolling by on the way to the dentist
and to pick up a load of stuff
which is going to stay in my car
until i figure out what to do with it all
as i try to turn the corner
on making central america happen
it might simplify my life
if someone just stole the car
i know affirmations are important
i learned that last week
after telling god in anger
that if he wanted to take down my plane
to go ahead
and then having the plane hit by lightning
so today i turned back to my breath
and stopped thinking
which along with an hour lunch over green tea
helped my mood tremendously
and i am grateful for a friend
for whom i felt love
today
tomorrow is just one of yesterday's dreams
--John Denver
well hallelujah for the sun's return
as this darkness in turn must give way
a long year of slipping health and confidence
losing what muscle mass i had
while moving a half dozen times
including again
today
i enjoyed snow covered indian country vistas
rolling by on the way to the dentist
and to pick up a load of stuff
which is going to stay in my car
until i figure out what to do with it all
as i try to turn the corner
on making central america happen
it might simplify my life
if someone just stole the car
i know affirmations are important
i learned that last week
after telling god in anger
that if he wanted to take down my plane
to go ahead
and then having the plane hit by lightning
so today i turned back to my breath
and stopped thinking
which along with an hour lunch over green tea
helped my mood tremendously
and i am grateful for a friend
for whom i felt love
today
Sunday, December 4, 2011
PSA
The two-hour youtube movie, Thrive: What on Earth Will It Take?, is highly recommended for transformational perspective in these times.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Prophecy
With a day of wind, and even promises of some snow, a new month greets us. It is now December of 2011. I wish to explain the critical importance of this month, according to the prophecies of ancient Japan, which were the singular reason I relocated to New Mexico nearly 30 years ago.
Back in the early eighties, I was drawn to a spiritual practice called Kototama. It was the study and practice of essential sound vibrations, as understood and transmitted through ancient Shinto-rooted traditions in Japan. My teacher, Sensei M. Nakazono, had brought the teachings to America around that time. Ours was a land and culture he was apparently not personally fond of, as it contradicted his old-school style of living and its serious focus on the highest values of humanity. Yet he came here nevertheless, out of his inner sense that modern Japanese society was completely closed to its own ancient wisdom.
In the practice of Kototama, there are 50 sacred sounds, which when arranged in appropriate order, allow the completeness of human capacity to manifest. By voicing each sound vibration, the corresponding universal energy is manifest--individually, and eventually societally. Sensei was greatly encouraged by the symbolism of the American flag, hopeful that its 50 stars meant that, if anywhere, this country would be the place of manifestation of a new and better society. He thus tolerated the relative chaos of our society, out of respect for the openness of social structures which might allow for such transformation.
It was a tall order for his students. To even maintain attention (while seated without chairs on the tatami mats of the Kototama Institute) for oft-rambling weekly three-hour lectures was a chore. To practice sounds on one's own time took a subtle discipline that is hard to describe, except to say I don't know that there are more than one or two people who continued to do so over the many years hence.
Most of his students came anyway for acupuncture training which, while somewhat based on the Kototama Principle, functioned independently of the sound practice. Making sense of oriental medicine, as taught through such a unique blend of traditions, was quite enough of a challenge for most students. Understand that these were also times when acupuncture was barely legal in but a handful of states in the US.
There was a wide range of success in the school's graduates. A number of us needed years of recovery to regain inner balance, after the strict and often esteem-crushing curriculum. The style of teaching was so devoid of positive individual recognition that it was normal to internalize a certain judgmentalness. It seems to me that those who came strictly for acupuncture training did the best, opening their practices and getting on with successful professional lives. Those of us who took the spiritual aspects seriously had to struggle with its many apparent contradictions. Intellectualism, in terms of either the medicine or the chanting, was decidedly unhelpful.
After my commitment to the Kototama contributed to my hospitalization for mental illness a few years later, my association with it was all but eliminated out of necessity for maintaining my own life. Yet slowly as the decades have passed, and society has played out its utter moral collapse, some of the wisdom of those early teachings has become clearer. Perhaps out of the same desperation that brought a conflicted Nakazono to these mountains, I began to revisit the practice in recent years. So much info has come through lately that I have even considered teaching what I have come to understand. The question has been whether I can bring enough compassion to the task to pass on something other than the massive suffering inherent in the tradition.
And whence comes such suffering? Is it inherently a martyr's path to hold onto the truth of human dignity in a world hellbent on violence and destruction? Is going against the grain of civilization an obligation for a true seeker? These questions have led me to explore practices promising a deeper integration of true principles, such as Nonviolent Communication, wherein all violence against the self is unlearned, along with all violence toward the world. In some ways, NVC has helped illuminate the previously-unclear nature of the dimensions described in the Kototama teachings. I am thus grateful to my NVC teachers, even while that movement also reckons with issues such as integrating its idealism and its economics.
Economics have become ever more pressing to humanity, an arena full of koans. Whether one is a libertarian conspiracist, an Occupy activist, new age guru, or one of the former middle class of this country seeking to hold onto some shred of the American dream, choices are becoming stark.
The truth is that the evils of capitalism, previously exported over many decades around the world, are now coming home to roost. With passage of a law in the US Congress just yesterday, many face arrest in a society in which all of us are now threatened with indefinite arrest without charges. Many are taking to guns for self-defense, amidst an increasingly rogue state teetering between repressive authoritarianism and potential anarchy. Homelessness is rampant, and inflation of prices of basic needs is accelerating, amidst war and looming economic collapse worldwide. Formerly stable social structures are disintegrating, as everyone scrambles to find where they might ride out whatever the coming transitional times we are rushing toward will look like.
Was it such a different era when 30 years ago I read Sensei Nakazono's translation of the Takeuchi Documents? With the murderous end to the social movements of the sixties, and the beginning of the Reagan/Bush reign of denial-based rule, the writing predicting our current social condition was certainly on the wall.
The documents I read were an adjunct to the Sensei's more formal texts on the Kototama. They were purported to be from ancient scrolls guarded for generations by the Takeuchi family in Japan. They were a written source of ancient wisdom held in secret amidst the materialist juggernaut of modern civilization, which was bent on destroying all traces of the previous civilization. In bringing forth this information, you can thus see why my teachers called their publishing company Third Civilization.
There are reasons to be skeptical of the documents. They are associated with the neo-Shinto movement in Japan of the World War II era, which sought to glorify Japan's past. This includes the Koso Kotai Jingu temple in which the documents have been ostensibly guarded for 90 generations, and at which it is said Jesus Christ himself is said to be buried. Whether one can consider such documents on their own merit amid such irrationality is an open question.
The documents were translated in part by Sensei Nakazono, and include a number of ancient alphabets as well as drawings of the Earth's continents and their movement across eras. They also describe important events in world prehistory, including the changing of the current of civilization to its material direction over many generations.
Amidst all of this background information, I would like to write here that the documents state that the current of civilization changes again, this time from materialism to a new order of civilization not described.
The date for this change is December of 2011.
Many ancient traditions have asserted these days being the end-time of historical calendars. Whether this is another date supporting such a worldview is for each of us to determine. Reading about such matters 30 years ago, they offered hope for a time that then seemed quiet far away.
That time is now.
Regardless of the origins of such information, I must assert that it is high time the corrupt old order--that I personally have lived under for as long as I can remember--give way. 48 years ago last week an increasingly liberated President John F. Kennedy was murdered by the forces of domination, who have been ruling the world from the shadows since. I stand with my physical and spiritual ancestors in watching the vampire powers fizzle away in the light of a new day dawning, and declare their time is up.
At age 48, in this quiet way, I am now revealing what I know, as honestly as I am able for your consideration. May the world find its full healing. May all beings be free.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
winter blues
Seems to me we are simply at the beginning of the transition times. Yet already such a lack of warmth everywhere. Any empathy must come from me. And like everyone else I am too tired and poor to muster up any consistent effort. I have almost no friends at all now. Too busy working and dealing with the stresses of this life in the working class...of the capitalist empire.
I may yet get out, I may not. Health needs, dental needs, the general ravages of aging on one's strength, and a million things to do--it will be something of a miracle if I get on with this travel plan, and doubly so if some latent disaster doesn't befall me on the adventure. Yes I will exercise, improve circulation, avoid sugar, floss daily, take vitamins, get the car worked on, do more Occupying, practice the fiddle, and plow through pages and pages of such lists which just cover basic maintenance. Then maybe I will earn some divine love from some overseer, or at least a dance with some woman who has forgotten we fought years ago.
The grand IQ has proferred no benefits on this life. I watch as idiotic yes-people get promoted throughout the supposedly enlightened corporation I work for. An entire social movement fails to focus on the lynchpin need to reform the nation's central bank. Former friends rip me for trying to make subtle distinctions.
I hibernate in the basement, knowing not what else to do. Old folks don't like the winter.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
on contribution and renewal
It's been a quiet week for me, as far as Occupying anything. With a day off and renewed energy, I expect to get out to some of today's activities--the UNM teach-in, for starters.
I've been all out just getting through the work day and commute, while trying to catch up on sleep. I'm happy to report my energy clearing up after some weeks of a mystery illness. I am quite sure it was a form of very effective prayer which dissolved the stagnation, allowing my body to recover. It was all I could do, while fumbling ineptly through the medical system trying to get an appointment.
Thank God for internal resources!
-----
It's the first day in a while I've felt like walking. The combination of the morning coolness and the beauty of Silver Avenue brought me great gratitude for this moment. I have lived in some amazingly beautiful places--a few blocks from lovely beaches of OB, at the very edge of Arroyo Hondo in Santa Fe, here... I've been very fortunate.
The constant moves are of course a mixed blessing. They have fostered an appreciation of the passing moments of aliveness in each place, concomitant with a growing non-attachment. At 48, I am ready to begin the process of actually settling somewhere. I am not sure where, or what the exchange will be. I seek community in a deeper sense, a vibrational priority, and service.
In 51 days, the quest begins. On January 1, 2012, my current rental will come to an end. I intend to terminate my current employment on the same day. Ironically or not, the path to settling on a home appears to begin with massive travel. Invitations to Central America and Europe open up avenues to explore permaculture projects, spiritual communities, education in nonviolent social transformation, and direct service to others.
I will likely return in late spring to the states and continue this unfoldment, with a mind to focus on direct service such as hospice, helping the homeless, and supporting those with severe disabilities.
All of these activities are within the curriculum of what I call contribution economics. Each arises from a sovereign place of being within the self, and extends outward to meet the world. Each is sourced not in debt, but in a place of infinite abundance.
-----
It has become clear that debt-based money has been the primary vehicle for the generation of wars, enslavement, poverty, and environmental destruction. Interest = Inflation = Tax = Usury. Certainly there is value in addressing, even empathically, the intentions of those, the 1%, who create and perpetuate this system of domination.
There is also value in just getting beyond their destructive system, into those honest exchanges by which individuals and societies truly and mutually benefit.
Whether one is a Tea Partier or an Occupier, one thing is becoming clear. The values of these United States have been, perhaps primarily, an ongoing centuries-long struggle between debt-based manipulations and the free exchanges by which humans arrive at their natural inclinations for mutual support, peace and prosperity, social progress and environmental care.
This is my agenda.
I've been all out just getting through the work day and commute, while trying to catch up on sleep. I'm happy to report my energy clearing up after some weeks of a mystery illness. I am quite sure it was a form of very effective prayer which dissolved the stagnation, allowing my body to recover. It was all I could do, while fumbling ineptly through the medical system trying to get an appointment.
Thank God for internal resources!
-----
It's the first day in a while I've felt like walking. The combination of the morning coolness and the beauty of Silver Avenue brought me great gratitude for this moment. I have lived in some amazingly beautiful places--a few blocks from lovely beaches of OB, at the very edge of Arroyo Hondo in Santa Fe, here... I've been very fortunate.
The constant moves are of course a mixed blessing. They have fostered an appreciation of the passing moments of aliveness in each place, concomitant with a growing non-attachment. At 48, I am ready to begin the process of actually settling somewhere. I am not sure where, or what the exchange will be. I seek community in a deeper sense, a vibrational priority, and service.
In 51 days, the quest begins. On January 1, 2012, my current rental will come to an end. I intend to terminate my current employment on the same day. Ironically or not, the path to settling on a home appears to begin with massive travel. Invitations to Central America and Europe open up avenues to explore permaculture projects, spiritual communities, education in nonviolent social transformation, and direct service to others.
I will likely return in late spring to the states and continue this unfoldment, with a mind to focus on direct service such as hospice, helping the homeless, and supporting those with severe disabilities.
All of these activities are within the curriculum of what I call contribution economics. Each arises from a sovereign place of being within the self, and extends outward to meet the world. Each is sourced not in debt, but in a place of infinite abundance.
-----
It has become clear that debt-based money has been the primary vehicle for the generation of wars, enslavement, poverty, and environmental destruction. Interest = Inflation = Tax = Usury. Certainly there is value in addressing, even empathically, the intentions of those, the 1%, who create and perpetuate this system of domination.
There is also value in just getting beyond their destructive system, into those honest exchanges by which individuals and societies truly and mutually benefit.
Whether one is a Tea Partier or an Occupier, one thing is becoming clear. The values of these United States have been, perhaps primarily, an ongoing centuries-long struggle between debt-based manipulations and the free exchanges by which humans arrive at their natural inclinations for mutual support, peace and prosperity, social progress and environmental care.
This is my agenda.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
on the way to sovereignty
tough day the 2nd day back feeling a little under the weather on a short turnaround with cold weather still heading uphill on the workweek with a time change thrown in for good measure
also short on cash and with some bills to pay and some more car care to do along with an overdue visit to a western doc
the finca wants to know my plans and i've been dithering, not feeling really psyched for farming actually
it was good to clear my mind out on the beach, its back to just not having time or energy to even think amidst stupid commutes to a job that is just no longer any fun
-----
of course i try to be grateful and practical in this crap economy with an authoritarian crackdown due any time, not to be paranoid, but all the protesters and leftists and homeless and poor all camped out right where the cops know, is an interesting development
i think the movement's strength is in its complete nonviolent naivete, which must be baffling to the endless strategic mindset of the 1% who know they own all the violence and manipulation power in the world, yet strangely its not as applicable anymore
i really should stick around i suppose, but i am just so sick of americas bullshit over so many years, especially the collaboration of the middle class with the exploitation and violence exported all over the world, the compartmentalization i can never really forgive or belong amidst
or claim a space within for a personal life, in its demand for those middle class resource use patterns to attract the kind of woman to have a family with, which i admit has left me with a touch of misogyny as well
diamond wearers
i would like to settle down and have a nice home somewhere, even if its a rental, so long as its not being remodeled and sold out from under me like the last several places i have lived, is it any wonder were all so exhausted, trying to hold onto some invisible tether to some righteous values which mostly comes alive only in giving a buck to a guy on the corner
i'd like a humble life with a humble relationship somewhere, maybe the south of france if it hasn't all been yuppified, maybe that land around berlin i heard was still cheap, finding a partner is another deal, but hey maybe just being a place im not trying to leave has gotta help
-----
global citizen, ambassador for empathy, start by farming and see what comes up, let the emigration begin, at least part time, with central america where i have never been and hence despite my both positive and negative conjectures know absolutely nothing about how it will be to be living in
will i be relieved to be out, or paranoid at my lack of belonging, or will i find more belonging than i have here, or will i be panicked by lack of money, or will it be one of those stupid disasters where my health breaks down the same time i run out of money amidst social upheaval and a nervous breakdown
who cares, i need to feel more alive than this
until then its occupy i guess, at least its something i can say i was at, some vague yelp in the general direction of the bastards, maybe more in the direction of comrades to hear and know they are not alone
already i see that in the young people eyes and it is very satisfying, when they look at me and my grey beard but my alive eyes and wonder who the hell i am
tell them: middle-aged migrant farm volunteer illegal-immigrant-wannabe, part-time itinerant expat musician, nonviolent anarchist-socialist
empath awaiting dawn
also short on cash and with some bills to pay and some more car care to do along with an overdue visit to a western doc
the finca wants to know my plans and i've been dithering, not feeling really psyched for farming actually
it was good to clear my mind out on the beach, its back to just not having time or energy to even think amidst stupid commutes to a job that is just no longer any fun
-----
of course i try to be grateful and practical in this crap economy with an authoritarian crackdown due any time, not to be paranoid, but all the protesters and leftists and homeless and poor all camped out right where the cops know, is an interesting development
i think the movement's strength is in its complete nonviolent naivete, which must be baffling to the endless strategic mindset of the 1% who know they own all the violence and manipulation power in the world, yet strangely its not as applicable anymore
i really should stick around i suppose, but i am just so sick of americas bullshit over so many years, especially the collaboration of the middle class with the exploitation and violence exported all over the world, the compartmentalization i can never really forgive or belong amidst
or claim a space within for a personal life, in its demand for those middle class resource use patterns to attract the kind of woman to have a family with, which i admit has left me with a touch of misogyny as well
diamond wearers
i would like to settle down and have a nice home somewhere, even if its a rental, so long as its not being remodeled and sold out from under me like the last several places i have lived, is it any wonder were all so exhausted, trying to hold onto some invisible tether to some righteous values which mostly comes alive only in giving a buck to a guy on the corner
i'd like a humble life with a humble relationship somewhere, maybe the south of france if it hasn't all been yuppified, maybe that land around berlin i heard was still cheap, finding a partner is another deal, but hey maybe just being a place im not trying to leave has gotta help
-----
global citizen, ambassador for empathy, start by farming and see what comes up, let the emigration begin, at least part time, with central america where i have never been and hence despite my both positive and negative conjectures know absolutely nothing about how it will be to be living in
will i be relieved to be out, or paranoid at my lack of belonging, or will i find more belonging than i have here, or will i be panicked by lack of money, or will it be one of those stupid disasters where my health breaks down the same time i run out of money amidst social upheaval and a nervous breakdown
who cares, i need to feel more alive than this
until then its occupy i guess, at least its something i can say i was at, some vague yelp in the general direction of the bastards, maybe more in the direction of comrades to hear and know they are not alone
already i see that in the young people eyes and it is very satisfying, when they look at me and my grey beard but my alive eyes and wonder who the hell i am
tell them: middle-aged migrant farm volunteer illegal-immigrant-wannabe, part-time itinerant expat musician, nonviolent anarchist-socialist
empath awaiting dawn
Saturday, November 5, 2011
the jubilee begins
Today, I will return to the workday world. At 5000 feet, I already feel the difference in blood pressure from its sea-level ease. I seek to maintain focus on the bigger picture of self-care and life's directives amidst the bustling distraction of my workplace. Make an appointment with an MD for blood work, and discuss current plans with my employer. That is the order of the day.
Yesterday, in the rain, I leapt into a cold stormy Pacific in shorts I would later realize the need to carry home wet in a plastic bag. I was seen off with a ride to the airport and group hug from a trio of beautiful women.
The day before I climbed a tree with a new young friend who would also lead me off established trails into magical vistas at a place called Torrey Pines. The all-day field trip led into yet another delicious potluck music-jam evening with outdoor prayer circle.
The previous day my friend and I did yoga in the warm sunshine and ocean shallows, playing a dozen games with a strong 12-foot strand of seaweed. It was then it occurred to me this was exactly what I needed, a complete reset of the mind into the now of joyful encounters.
There was good music played and more of the best food I have ever eaten. My herb dosages were well-managed, and significant cuddling activities were enjoyed throughout the visit.
A few momentary conflicts arrived to add spice along with the satisfaction of moving through them with minimal drama. I lovingly detached further from a former crush and the choices she faces. Aside from a few hours of unanticipated low-blood sugar, I managed to enjoy being in a continuous social circle for nearly three straight days.
I spent very little money there. A $10 park fee, $20 at farmers market, organic coffee and morning muffins at the cafe...all added up to less than $50. The hugs and seaweed jump-rope were free...and so very freeing.
I find the communities that support the gifts I have to offer, by offering them--as I intend to across several diverse settings in the first half of the new year. The course outline includes cooperative farming, music and music teaching, empathy education, and in general responding to community needs. Holistic healing, chi-centered education, and shared spiritual commitment are also among the possibilities. And it all really is rooted in presence.
With remaining savings, I will return in July to the places/people/activities I like best. By then, there may well be an entirely new economic landscape in the world--and I am lobbying strong for the jubilee vision!
There is always joe's, where hopefully my standing remains positive, for possible rehire if further capital is again required in spring or summer. Trading 6-10 months of a decent company job for 2-6 months of community living is a sound back-up plan, which still allows the path to unfold.
Onward into unfolding the contribution economies!
Yesterday, in the rain, I leapt into a cold stormy Pacific in shorts I would later realize the need to carry home wet in a plastic bag. I was seen off with a ride to the airport and group hug from a trio of beautiful women.
The day before I climbed a tree with a new young friend who would also lead me off established trails into magical vistas at a place called Torrey Pines. The all-day field trip led into yet another delicious potluck music-jam evening with outdoor prayer circle.
The previous day my friend and I did yoga in the warm sunshine and ocean shallows, playing a dozen games with a strong 12-foot strand of seaweed. It was then it occurred to me this was exactly what I needed, a complete reset of the mind into the now of joyful encounters.
There was good music played and more of the best food I have ever eaten. My herb dosages were well-managed, and significant cuddling activities were enjoyed throughout the visit.
A few momentary conflicts arrived to add spice along with the satisfaction of moving through them with minimal drama. I lovingly detached further from a former crush and the choices she faces. Aside from a few hours of unanticipated low-blood sugar, I managed to enjoy being in a continuous social circle for nearly three straight days.
I spent very little money there. A $10 park fee, $20 at farmers market, organic coffee and morning muffins at the cafe...all added up to less than $50. The hugs and seaweed jump-rope were free...and so very freeing.
I find the communities that support the gifts I have to offer, by offering them--as I intend to across several diverse settings in the first half of the new year. The course outline includes cooperative farming, music and music teaching, empathy education, and in general responding to community needs. Holistic healing, chi-centered education, and shared spiritual commitment are also among the possibilities. And it all really is rooted in presence.
With remaining savings, I will return in July to the places/people/activities I like best. By then, there may well be an entirely new economic landscape in the world--and I am lobbying strong for the jubilee vision!
There is always joe's, where hopefully my standing remains positive, for possible rehire if further capital is again required in spring or summer. Trading 6-10 months of a decent company job for 2-6 months of community living is a sound back-up plan, which still allows the path to unfold.
Onward into unfolding the contribution economies!
Sunday, October 30, 2011
stumbling into daylight
i was reading a friend's blog
enjoying its depth of communication
i got up from my makeshift desk
and burst into tears
i like crying
haven't done it as much as i'd like
i forgot
it has the power to clarify things
feelings and needs
-----
it was a blog about my friend's recent
Occupy experience
i was touched by the sensitivity expressed
in the public mourning
and also by
the expression of empathy from the cops
for the movement
they must have received some empathy
here as well for their position
that is in fact exactly what they expressed
how amazing is a single moment of reconciliation
witnessing our shared humanity
across these disguises
-----
and what are the costumes for?
for making money
for having an acceptable role in society
and such nonsense
ironic that when we let the charade drop
we find the real community
which is what i am looking for
and is all i have ever looked for
to do something meaningful
with true friends
-----
in regards to my crying fit
it was not about the mourning specifically
neither the cops nor community
it was about my day
how sore my shoulder is
how stressed and shut down my body and soul
after too much work at a job
and not enough recognition
no it's not even that
-----
it was a gestalt which cried me:
the sudden stark contrast
between the quality of life lived
chasing a lonely dollar
how numb I become even in two days
under fluorescent lighting and such
so that I can't even discern
whether I need to sleep or eat
compared to this immediate experience
the aliveness of feeling
when each habitable moment
is lived outdoors
in the company of soulmates
doing what we are meant to do
which is:
being together
and meanwhile getting real stuff done
like practicing such empathy
-----
the tears brought me back to life
and i stumbled my sore body down to Yale Park
which i suddenly found completely open
and laid down on the grass
near a circle of acquaintances
had a brief conversation
with a man whose wisdom i enjoyed
a loner like myself stumbling upon community
who i understand is familiar with the street
his eyes and words reflecting
a quality of aliveness i've known
living in a street community
last year near a beach
-----
now home to cook this curried veggie tofu
and potatoes
reminding myself to be less shy about inviting
others to share food
as i plan an evening of brainstorming
this economic transition
to a situation i may use my yang energies
not use them up
lifting five tons before breakfast
but rather commit to their true nature
for as this life is freely given
it is for me to now extend
this generosity of giving
a generativity that arises
not from a priority of doing
but through commitment
to being
enjoying its depth of communication
i got up from my makeshift desk
and burst into tears
i like crying
haven't done it as much as i'd like
i forgot
it has the power to clarify things
feelings and needs
-----
it was a blog about my friend's recent
Occupy experience
i was touched by the sensitivity expressed
in the public mourning
and also by
the expression of empathy from the cops
for the movement
they must have received some empathy
here as well for their position
that is in fact exactly what they expressed
how amazing is a single moment of reconciliation
witnessing our shared humanity
across these disguises
-----
and what are the costumes for?
for making money
for having an acceptable role in society
and such nonsense
ironic that when we let the charade drop
we find the real community
which is what i am looking for
and is all i have ever looked for
to do something meaningful
with true friends
-----
in regards to my crying fit
it was not about the mourning specifically
neither the cops nor community
it was about my day
how sore my shoulder is
how stressed and shut down my body and soul
after too much work at a job
and not enough recognition
no it's not even that
-----
it was a gestalt which cried me:
the sudden stark contrast
between the quality of life lived
chasing a lonely dollar
how numb I become even in two days
under fluorescent lighting and such
so that I can't even discern
whether I need to sleep or eat
compared to this immediate experience
the aliveness of feeling
when each habitable moment
is lived outdoors
in the company of soulmates
doing what we are meant to do
which is:
being together
and meanwhile getting real stuff done
like practicing such empathy
-----
the tears brought me back to life
and i stumbled my sore body down to Yale Park
which i suddenly found completely open
and laid down on the grass
near a circle of acquaintances
had a brief conversation
with a man whose wisdom i enjoyed
a loner like myself stumbling upon community
who i understand is familiar with the street
his eyes and words reflecting
a quality of aliveness i've known
living in a street community
last year near a beach
-----
now home to cook this curried veggie tofu
and potatoes
reminding myself to be less shy about inviting
others to share food
as i plan an evening of brainstorming
this economic transition
to a situation i may use my yang energies
not use them up
lifting five tons before breakfast
but rather commit to their true nature
for as this life is freely given
it is for me to now extend
this generosity of giving
a generativity that arises
not from a priority of doing
but through commitment
to being
Friday, October 28, 2011
End the Fed
Awesome times.
Last night was definitely the most satisfying of social actions I've ever been involved in. That area at the edge of Yale Park is hallowed ground now, a place where free speech took a stand.
And a cooperative, nonviolent stand at that. That's what made it both so effective and so satisfying. It was the most unselfconscious I've ever felt, the most unambiguous about my own values. For there we were, a good hundred of us who cared enough...to do...who knew what?
Show up.
-----
I am back at the cafe marveling at this still. It really came back to me today, as dusk again approaches. Most of the day was spent uploading the video of the UN prof's intro to the group's meeting. Brilliant framing of what was going on, and how we were dealing with it--by reasserting our rights to gather peaceably, speak freely, and associate with who we liked.
It was also a powerful teaching. One of the things I am coming to understand is that one's actions need not be grand, just clear. An approach of curiosity and nonviolence greatly supports clarity.
So here I am back at the cafe across the street, having tea, nurturing myself today. Been getting back to personal matters, celebrating progress with some health concerns. Feeling motivated toward creating new relationships with people, meeting women, joining meetup groups to speak Spanish or German, that kind of stuff. Felt great to clean the house and cook a meal.
Amidst the relaxing and digesting of recent social events, I am gathering focus to do a little more social action. It's a good time to hold up signs, right? Well then, another teachable moment.
-----
Much of the Occupy movement has left strategic questions open. This has been very useful in offering inclusion to anyone wishing to participate. The parameters have 1) an implied question of "what is the relationship between the 99% and the 1%, whose income differential appears to us to have created a separation of value systems (and behavioral norms) between the two groups; and 2) participation in deep democracy such as consensus process.
The power of these two organizing principles has become clear.
I see attempts by many now to direct strategic efforts in specific external directions. There is talk of tax changes, creating jobs, vote for this person, etc. I saw a useful sign yesterday (and again today): Repeal Glass-Stiegel. I want to strike at the root, or at least one of them. To explain monarchical structures and corruptions of reality spanning centuries is too much. But fundamental structural change is essential.
I know it bores people to discuss banking, it generally bores me. But people are realizing the entire money system is corrupt, and the banks specifically. I'm not sure that most put together the essential distinction in the character of society created by debt-based money, versus honest money. Debt-based money is created by private Central Banks, and have been publicly identified as ruthlessly destructive social forces by everyone from Jefferson and Franklin to Lincoln and Jackson. Honest money is created by the people and for the people by way of representative government.
Debt-based institutions love war, for it generates for them abundant wealth from every angle. Honest money generates abundance.
End wars.
End the Fed.
Last night was definitely the most satisfying of social actions I've ever been involved in. That area at the edge of Yale Park is hallowed ground now, a place where free speech took a stand.
And a cooperative, nonviolent stand at that. That's what made it both so effective and so satisfying. It was the most unselfconscious I've ever felt, the most unambiguous about my own values. For there we were, a good hundred of us who cared enough...to do...who knew what?
Show up.
-----
I am back at the cafe marveling at this still. It really came back to me today, as dusk again approaches. Most of the day was spent uploading the video of the UN prof's intro to the group's meeting. Brilliant framing of what was going on, and how we were dealing with it--by reasserting our rights to gather peaceably, speak freely, and associate with who we liked.
It was also a powerful teaching. One of the things I am coming to understand is that one's actions need not be grand, just clear. An approach of curiosity and nonviolence greatly supports clarity.
So here I am back at the cafe across the street, having tea, nurturing myself today. Been getting back to personal matters, celebrating progress with some health concerns. Feeling motivated toward creating new relationships with people, meeting women, joining meetup groups to speak Spanish or German, that kind of stuff. Felt great to clean the house and cook a meal.
Amidst the relaxing and digesting of recent social events, I am gathering focus to do a little more social action. It's a good time to hold up signs, right? Well then, another teachable moment.
-----
Much of the Occupy movement has left strategic questions open. This has been very useful in offering inclusion to anyone wishing to participate. The parameters have 1) an implied question of "what is the relationship between the 99% and the 1%, whose income differential appears to us to have created a separation of value systems (and behavioral norms) between the two groups; and 2) participation in deep democracy such as consensus process.
The power of these two organizing principles has become clear.
I see attempts by many now to direct strategic efforts in specific external directions. There is talk of tax changes, creating jobs, vote for this person, etc. I saw a useful sign yesterday (and again today): Repeal Glass-Stiegel. I want to strike at the root, or at least one of them. To explain monarchical structures and corruptions of reality spanning centuries is too much. But fundamental structural change is essential.
I know it bores people to discuss banking, it generally bores me. But people are realizing the entire money system is corrupt, and the banks specifically. I'm not sure that most put together the essential distinction in the character of society created by debt-based money, versus honest money. Debt-based money is created by private Central Banks, and have been publicly identified as ruthlessly destructive social forces by everyone from Jefferson and Franklin to Lincoln and Jackson. Honest money is created by the people and for the people by way of representative government.
Debt-based institutions love war, for it generates for them abundant wealth from every angle. Honest money generates abundance.
End wars.
End the Fed.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
protest
“The state can’t give you free speech, and the state can’t take it away. You’re born with it, like your eyes, like your ears. Freedom is something you assume, then you wait for someone to try to take it away. The degree to which you resist is the degree to which you are free. – Utah Phillips
On a cool, drizzly evening, 100+ protesters were ordered out of Yale Park and off UNM grounds by university police, shortly after beginning their 6 pm general assembly meeting. The group was told that they no longer had a permit to assemble at UNM, and so would have to leave. The group requested permission for a five-minute meeting.
While the large group met, a few of us directed our attention toward the police. I explained to the directing officer my understanding that the permit was for the kitchen and overnight camp--neither of which were in evidence--and that we were simply exercising our first amendment rights to free speech and assembly, well before the university's curfew. (See local article from early October for context here: http://www.dailylobo.com/index.php/article/2011/10/protesters_meet_with_schmidly_rep).
The officer said I would need to take this point up with the university. He simply had orders that the Occupy group was no longer to be permitted on campus.
The group moved toward the sidewalk, chanting "Shame on UNM police!" and "This is what a police state looks like!" The group then moved across the street where they had permission from a nearby business owner to assemble. I remained on campus, took a walk around Yale Park, and talked with a couple of other people about the permit issue, while one remaining protester was arrested.
I wondered why 30 people were willing to be arrested the night before in violation of public curfew, while tonight with basic inalienable rights being trampled there was only one. Likely there are two different issues at play here--first amendment rights, and perhaps the broader concern of occupying public space by sleeping outdoors in it. (See an interesting and hopeful confluence of these issues here: http://www.occupy-oc.org/tears-stream-as-city-council-unanimously-agrees-occupy-tents-are-a-form-of-speech/#.TqigT-HMrYt.facebook)
I seriously weighed getting arrested also. A woman from the Journal took down my name for a photo I was in, and I began to wonder about the choices one makes. How is it possible to distinguish altruism from egocentrism? I then decided to rejoin the group across the street.
The meeting was quite energetic, and despite the worsening weather, lasted over 90 minutes. I generally found myself on the edge of the gathering, with one eye on sentry toward police in the surrounding area. Consensus was eventually achieved, my understanding of which is to meet for assembly again tomorrow (Thursday) at 5 pm at Yale Park on UNM campus. Those who wish to stand for their first amendment rights (and risk arrest) may do so. The rest of the group will reconvene off-campus for general assembly, and further action including seeking a place to re-establish a 24/7 camp.
To a number of us, this was less clear than other initial proposals, but due to worsening rain and chill, it was consensed. In addition, there is some legal action being initiated by the ACLU, in regards to our first amendment rights being violated. There was also an encouraging report that some UNM professors will be gathering tomorrow at Yale Park during the day for teach-ins related to these current events.
I found it to be a stimulating evening, with substantial issues being publicly considered by a thoughtful and courageous group of people. Perhaps the current push-back will help to define clear intentions for the ongoing protest. I wonder how it would be if a large and diverse group of folks, young and old, showed up for tomorrow's gathering. A coat and hat are recommended. Will the middle class represent? How about some professors and prominent local personalities come experience democracy in action?
On a cool, drizzly evening, 100+ protesters were ordered out of Yale Park and off UNM grounds by university police, shortly after beginning their 6 pm general assembly meeting. The group was told that they no longer had a permit to assemble at UNM, and so would have to leave. The group requested permission for a five-minute meeting.
While the large group met, a few of us directed our attention toward the police. I explained to the directing officer my understanding that the permit was for the kitchen and overnight camp--neither of which were in evidence--and that we were simply exercising our first amendment rights to free speech and assembly, well before the university's curfew. (See local article from early October for context here: http://www.dailylobo.com/index.php/article/2011/10/protesters_meet_with_schmidly_rep).
The officer said I would need to take this point up with the university. He simply had orders that the Occupy group was no longer to be permitted on campus.
The group moved toward the sidewalk, chanting "Shame on UNM police!" and "This is what a police state looks like!" The group then moved across the street where they had permission from a nearby business owner to assemble. I remained on campus, took a walk around Yale Park, and talked with a couple of other people about the permit issue, while one remaining protester was arrested.
I wondered why 30 people were willing to be arrested the night before in violation of public curfew, while tonight with basic inalienable rights being trampled there was only one. Likely there are two different issues at play here--first amendment rights, and perhaps the broader concern of occupying public space by sleeping outdoors in it. (See an interesting and hopeful confluence of these issues here: http://www.occupy-oc.org/tears-stream-as-city-council-unanimously-agrees-occupy-tents-are-a-form-of-speech/#.TqigT-HMrYt.facebook)
I seriously weighed getting arrested also. A woman from the Journal took down my name for a photo I was in, and I began to wonder about the choices one makes. How is it possible to distinguish altruism from egocentrism? I then decided to rejoin the group across the street.
The meeting was quite energetic, and despite the worsening weather, lasted over 90 minutes. I generally found myself on the edge of the gathering, with one eye on sentry toward police in the surrounding area. Consensus was eventually achieved, my understanding of which is to meet for assembly again tomorrow (Thursday) at 5 pm at Yale Park on UNM campus. Those who wish to stand for their first amendment rights (and risk arrest) may do so. The rest of the group will reconvene off-campus for general assembly, and further action including seeking a place to re-establish a 24/7 camp.
To a number of us, this was less clear than other initial proposals, but due to worsening rain and chill, it was consensed. In addition, there is some legal action being initiated by the ACLU, in regards to our first amendment rights being violated. There was also an encouraging report that some UNM professors will be gathering tomorrow at Yale Park during the day for teach-ins related to these current events.
I found it to be a stimulating evening, with substantial issues being publicly considered by a thoughtful and courageous group of people. Perhaps the current push-back will help to define clear intentions for the ongoing protest. I wonder how it would be if a large and diverse group of folks, young and old, showed up for tomorrow's gathering. A coat and hat are recommended. Will the middle class represent? How about some professors and prominent local personalities come experience democracy in action?
Friday, October 21, 2011
mission statement
what to write?
just post yesterday's interesting analysis of Occupy? an as-yet-unsent love note? describe my tri-city lifestyle plans? my bizarre healing crises? plans to travel abroad in early Spring?
how about this:
My commitment is to express the highest vibrational frequencies I can access, primarily focusing on Love and Joy, in service of inclusive and collective abundance. My prayer is for the greatest benevolence to be served.
Resources to contribute include: uplifting music, compassionate presence, communication support, education, permaculture gardens, sound meditation; care for children, elders, animals, and land; a general enjoyment of labor; a commitment to opening my heart to love and community belonging; and a passionate openness to requests for whatever else I may share.
just post yesterday's interesting analysis of Occupy? an as-yet-unsent love note? describe my tri-city lifestyle plans? my bizarre healing crises? plans to travel abroad in early Spring?
how about this:
My commitment is to express the highest vibrational frequencies I can access, primarily focusing on Love and Joy, in service of inclusive and collective abundance. My prayer is for the greatest benevolence to be served.
Resources to contribute include: uplifting music, compassionate presence, communication support, education, permaculture gardens, sound meditation; care for children, elders, animals, and land; a general enjoyment of labor; a commitment to opening my heart to love and community belonging; and a passionate openness to requests for whatever else I may share.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
it's called opening the heart
There is love in the world. In OB, it is THC-driven to a great degree. But I like it anyway. THC-wise, I just like very small doses myself. The remembrance of love, though, that is useful whatever the means. That's what I think.
I have crushes on eleven women right, as far as I can count. They live everywhere, and none of them are realistic in the slightest. Two are just too young, two I don't really know (and are too young), two dancers, a lesbian couple (who would be too young anyway), okay that makes eight but anyway...
I don't believe in realism. The only life I care about anymore is the dream world. The worlds of imagination and intention.
Oh yeah, and hugs.
-----
I like long lazy hugs with stoner gals. I like walking with new acquaintances, or old friends, 'cuz that's just what you do there. Seeing what people are into, talking about transformation as it arises, drinking coffee, and visiting the water. That's OB.
Farmers' market takes over Wednesdays, and tastings rule the day. I ended up unintentionally buying way too much. But it was fun.
Music was good, good for me to play at all again. Remember a couple inspirations. Being inside so much was odd, with a goofy landlady deal going on, and rust being sanded off of railings everywhere all day.
But 50 feet to the steps down to the cliffs, and paths to watch the ocean's sacred moonlit dances with the rocks!
I saw a friend from back when, who owns no shoes and still sleeps on the pier. I made new friends at the coffee shop, and hung with an old one from there too. I unexpectedly saw the young lady I was so in love with last year. It was sweet and unstressful, but I do worry about her health...
I could go on.
-----
It was community for a few days. I don't know if I could afford it out there. I'm already so done with TJs. But I really mean affording the luxuriousness of the lifestyle. I would inevitably smoke too much again, and get all goofed up. Try and improvise. See if I can not burn through my road stake so fast.
I know my work too, or at least I think I do. Why is it so hard to manifest? Is it possible that simply belonging to community is the greatest contribution I can make?
Probably so. It's a good start.
I have crushes on eleven women right, as far as I can count. They live everywhere, and none of them are realistic in the slightest. Two are just too young, two I don't really know (and are too young), two dancers, a lesbian couple (who would be too young anyway), okay that makes eight but anyway...
I don't believe in realism. The only life I care about anymore is the dream world. The worlds of imagination and intention.
Oh yeah, and hugs.
-----
I like long lazy hugs with stoner gals. I like walking with new acquaintances, or old friends, 'cuz that's just what you do there. Seeing what people are into, talking about transformation as it arises, drinking coffee, and visiting the water. That's OB.
Farmers' market takes over Wednesdays, and tastings rule the day. I ended up unintentionally buying way too much. But it was fun.
Music was good, good for me to play at all again. Remember a couple inspirations. Being inside so much was odd, with a goofy landlady deal going on, and rust being sanded off of railings everywhere all day.
But 50 feet to the steps down to the cliffs, and paths to watch the ocean's sacred moonlit dances with the rocks!
I saw a friend from back when, who owns no shoes and still sleeps on the pier. I made new friends at the coffee shop, and hung with an old one from there too. I unexpectedly saw the young lady I was so in love with last year. It was sweet and unstressful, but I do worry about her health...
I could go on.
-----
It was community for a few days. I don't know if I could afford it out there. I'm already so done with TJs. But I really mean affording the luxuriousness of the lifestyle. I would inevitably smoke too much again, and get all goofed up. Try and improvise. See if I can not burn through my road stake so fast.
I know my work too, or at least I think I do. Why is it so hard to manifest? Is it possible that simply belonging to community is the greatest contribution I can make?
Probably so. It's a good start.
Friday, October 14, 2011
midnight prayer
i love the ocean and it is good to be with it
the medicine smoked here is painful for me
in these quantities of daily use
i become dull and less capable on the surface
while my natural nervous yang emotional abundance
goes inside so I don't sleep well
-----
i even lose the prayer path
it comes around again as i intensify my focus
often with renewed gratitude and gift
but there is the moment of delay
when my head must detoxify
and the universe feels like such a lonely place
-----
may this vulnerability
open my heart
oddly closed these last months
so that it may unfurl
amidst contribution
to a community
in which it may belong
gifting this nervous energy
its work
of devotion
Friday, October 7, 2011
urban existence
each week
now offers a solid block of 90 hours
free from work
while my 4-day block of work
spans 78 hours
i am resting a great deal
dissipating a bit too much
while i watch my head readjust
to the idea that the primary focus of life
is not to work
but rather
to live
-----
i am curious
will my spirit and body
come back into balance
without one pushing the other mercilessly
and the other no doubt filling with resentment
will this rebellious chi
return to the fold
and give me something to work with
on these long long weekends
a hobby even
a yoga class?
-----
or will i just become another pale burque ghost
shuttered in his basement all winter
saggy of skin
paranoid of the light of day
where too long overworked
the fire is found retired
to burn only in the dark of nothingness
leaving me chronically ill and dorkish
with vegan dyspepsia
certainly frightened
of any and all relationships
now offers a solid block of 90 hours
free from work
while my 4-day block of work
spans 78 hours
i am resting a great deal
dissipating a bit too much
while i watch my head readjust
to the idea that the primary focus of life
is not to work
but rather
to live
-----
i am curious
will my spirit and body
come back into balance
without one pushing the other mercilessly
and the other no doubt filling with resentment
will this rebellious chi
return to the fold
and give me something to work with
on these long long weekends
a hobby even
a yoga class?
-----
or will i just become another pale burque ghost
shuttered in his basement all winter
saggy of skin
paranoid of the light of day
where too long overworked
the fire is found retired
to burn only in the dark of nothingness
leaving me chronically ill and dorkish
with vegan dyspepsia
certainly frightened
of any and all relationships
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
new economy
ah yes
the blog
is there a revolution going on
i moved back to the city
so i get to see it today
-----
every day's a miracle
it's the new post-Jekyll Island economy:
Turtle Island Economics
contribution
play, love, fun
mutuality, healing, barter, chi, giveaway, labor, growing, trade
free education, shared presence, yoga in the park
-----
an infinite number
of micro-economies make up
the abundance that is life
gathering fruit, nuts, pickling vegetables, gardening, ritual, bliss sharing, tea in public places, gifting, picnicking, kombucha
what could you possibly need
-----
a bucket of water once in a while
tolerable part-time work with abundant time off, a cheap place to crash, room-and-board trades, friends, an orientation to serve others, good vibes, green grass to walk on, a stove to cook with
a bike
maximizing flow experience, with opportunities to love in the ten thousand ways that are the way of my Beloved
Tao
the blog
is there a revolution going on
i moved back to the city
so i get to see it today
-----
every day's a miracle
it's the new post-Jekyll Island economy:
Turtle Island Economics
contribution
play, love, fun
mutuality, healing, barter, chi, giveaway, labor, growing, trade
free education, shared presence, yoga in the park
-----
an infinite number
of micro-economies make up
the abundance that is life
gathering fruit, nuts, pickling vegetables, gardening, ritual, bliss sharing, tea in public places, gifting, picnicking, kombucha
what could you possibly need
-----
a bucket of water once in a while
tolerable part-time work with abundant time off, a cheap place to crash, room-and-board trades, friends, an orientation to serve others, good vibes, green grass to walk on, a stove to cook with
a bike
maximizing flow experience, with opportunities to love in the ten thousand ways that are the way of my Beloved
Tao
Friday, September 30, 2011
Josie also heads out
One of the reasons I enjoy the dying process is that it puts the world in its place. There is inherently found time for the natural grieving process, one of the experiences that humanizes us on a core level, offering its own unique gifts and teachings. We are allowed quiet time to console, and to consider, how we might be of compassionate and practical service to one another.
Josie has followed Rambo, so now the household I am a part of has buried both their dogs of 15 years this week. I am extremely honored to be a part of their passing, as I spent time with and also cared for the dogs the last few years. Josie was the quieter of the two, the more private dog. As such I am allowing more space for my friends to grieve this familial loss.
Josie had weakened hips that made walking tough the last year or two. I imagined her spirit happy today, saying something like, thank God I was freed from the suffering body to journey onward, and thank Rambo for showing how this transformation was possible. There are great soul lessons our pets offer us in their unconditional love, so who can say--maybe to each other too.
So today is a quiet journey around here, a little tea and a little more tea, as we take time to wonder on all this being here one moment and then somehow not.
Blessed journey pup--
Josie has followed Rambo, so now the household I am a part of has buried both their dogs of 15 years this week. I am extremely honored to be a part of their passing, as I spent time with and also cared for the dogs the last few years. Josie was the quieter of the two, the more private dog. As such I am allowing more space for my friends to grieve this familial loss.
Josie had weakened hips that made walking tough the last year or two. I imagined her spirit happy today, saying something like, thank God I was freed from the suffering body to journey onward, and thank Rambo for showing how this transformation was possible. There are great soul lessons our pets offer us in their unconditional love, so who can say--maybe to each other too.
So today is a quiet journey around here, a little tea and a little more tea, as we take time to wonder on all this being here one moment and then somehow not.
Blessed journey pup--
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
bye Rambo
These are quite the times. Freaking out from a friend's target practice gunshots in the mountains and walking home to drive to friends in Albuquerque, where I co-hospiced their beloved dog Rambo to his passing this morning. Grave-digging before breakfast. Now the locks are off the fridge he used to get into. I thanked him for modeling so well how to be yourself.
Considering the old apartment and a four-day commute, now that things have gone so sour at the land. It wasn't just the post-shooting spat, it's about not having a stove or fridge or shower, but it's especially about the propane leak and differences in core values with the landowner. Sorry I couldn't serve him better in his quest to restore his land-based vision. Maybe he's far enough along to garner the remaining support he needs, or just get it done on his own.
As for me, I think I'm headed into hospice volunteer work. I don't know if I'll try traveling to Latin America as planned, I have now so often failed at every aspect of farming, from relations to tearing up my ankle, to nearly blowing up a tractor, ruining a neighbors trees, and almost never getting anything to grow anywhere. Maybe get to Europe and watch the kids a bit in the spring, but otherwise hanging out remembering, one day at a time, this miracle of life.
Bye Rambo.
Considering the old apartment and a four-day commute, now that things have gone so sour at the land. It wasn't just the post-shooting spat, it's about not having a stove or fridge or shower, but it's especially about the propane leak and differences in core values with the landowner. Sorry I couldn't serve him better in his quest to restore his land-based vision. Maybe he's far enough along to garner the remaining support he needs, or just get it done on his own.
As for me, I think I'm headed into hospice volunteer work. I don't know if I'll try traveling to Latin America as planned, I have now so often failed at every aspect of farming, from relations to tearing up my ankle, to nearly blowing up a tractor, ruining a neighbors trees, and almost never getting anything to grow anywhere. Maybe get to Europe and watch the kids a bit in the spring, but otherwise hanging out remembering, one day at a time, this miracle of life.
Bye Rambo.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
challenges
Ask me how I'm doing and I might say, as some do, "Surviving. Barely."
I would be speaking literally of course. After overcoming some interpersonal choppiness at home, I was accosted by my bosses at work with a sit down. There, I was told about reports they have received of my negativity, and was asked for an explanation. If I had been practicing a bit more NVC lately, I might have asked for more useful information from them. Instead I hemmed and hawed as as underling like myself is supposed to do in such situations, with promises of more angelic behavior in the future.
It was only upon arriving home later, and turning on the propane heater, that I realized what was going on. Earlier in the week, I had arrived at work and could barely function due to nausea. I'd thought it might have been the knock i took on the head when a hay bale sent my head smashing into a beam recently, but it didn't quite add up. Well, anyway, the heater ran out of propane and shut off--about two months earlier than expected. This means I've been sucking a steady stream of propane the last two weeks during my sleep.
So this explains why my liver function has been compromised as of late, and I'm sure from my history that I was leakier with my frustrations at work than other people were enjoying. Perhaps the level of stress at the store will seem more manageable when I am not being systemically poisoned.
Then this weekend I missed my goat milking appointment, because I was having the worst gall bladder attack of my life. It lasted most of two days. It was very likely the goat cheese and goat milk ice cream I had eaten that put me over the edge with this condition. Hence, my enthusiasm for the goat milking is dampened. Fortunately, a friend had some kombucha which helped turn the condition around tremendously, followed by some acupuncture on myself and other measures. I am consuming only apple juice today.
That's the upshot. Nothing has come up in the garden yet. I smashed a second window pane in the cold frame though. Ate bad eggs last week that didn't help anything. Maintaining hygeine amidst full time work and life off the grid is demanding in itself. Fortunately, my hours have been unexpectedly cut. That's kind of how it is.
Not sure if I'm staying or moving on, but that's a question for another day. Working four days this week puts a road trip to water firmly in my sights.
I would be speaking literally of course. After overcoming some interpersonal choppiness at home, I was accosted by my bosses at work with a sit down. There, I was told about reports they have received of my negativity, and was asked for an explanation. If I had been practicing a bit more NVC lately, I might have asked for more useful information from them. Instead I hemmed and hawed as as underling like myself is supposed to do in such situations, with promises of more angelic behavior in the future.
It was only upon arriving home later, and turning on the propane heater, that I realized what was going on. Earlier in the week, I had arrived at work and could barely function due to nausea. I'd thought it might have been the knock i took on the head when a hay bale sent my head smashing into a beam recently, but it didn't quite add up. Well, anyway, the heater ran out of propane and shut off--about two months earlier than expected. This means I've been sucking a steady stream of propane the last two weeks during my sleep.
So this explains why my liver function has been compromised as of late, and I'm sure from my history that I was leakier with my frustrations at work than other people were enjoying. Perhaps the level of stress at the store will seem more manageable when I am not being systemically poisoned.
Then this weekend I missed my goat milking appointment, because I was having the worst gall bladder attack of my life. It lasted most of two days. It was very likely the goat cheese and goat milk ice cream I had eaten that put me over the edge with this condition. Hence, my enthusiasm for the goat milking is dampened. Fortunately, a friend had some kombucha which helped turn the condition around tremendously, followed by some acupuncture on myself and other measures. I am consuming only apple juice today.
That's the upshot. Nothing has come up in the garden yet. I smashed a second window pane in the cold frame though. Ate bad eggs last week that didn't help anything. Maintaining hygeine amidst full time work and life off the grid is demanding in itself. Fortunately, my hours have been unexpectedly cut. That's kind of how it is.
Not sure if I'm staying or moving on, but that's a question for another day. Working four days this week puts a road trip to water firmly in my sights.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
something
today i am bored
i am not sure why
the clouds are moving fast
pretty and close enough to touch
what need is not met
companionship perhaps
meaningful contribution?
i'd rather be throwing hay bales
but at least i have coffee now
and maybe some inspiration to do something
with the remainder of my time in this sick society
before i head off and join the amish or leave for peru
last night i experienced the nurturing feminine:
dancing closely with two beautiful women
in honest playful appreciation
before heading off early to milk the girls
itsy, souffle and stella
and then sleeping deeply for ten hours
i'll be ordering some milking supplies today
a stainless bucket, carrier and strainer
so i guess that's something
i am not sure why
the clouds are moving fast
pretty and close enough to touch
what need is not met
companionship perhaps
meaningful contribution?
i'd rather be throwing hay bales
but at least i have coffee now
and maybe some inspiration to do something
with the remainder of my time in this sick society
before i head off and join the amish or leave for peru
last night i experienced the nurturing feminine:
dancing closely with two beautiful women
in honest playful appreciation
before heading off early to milk the girls
itsy, souffle and stella
and then sleeping deeply for ten hours
i'll be ordering some milking supplies today
a stainless bucket, carrier and strainer
so i guess that's something
Thursday, September 15, 2011
on labors and Love
I have become a bartering laborer.
Yesterday, I helped a friend jam a storage shed, far too small for the job, full of possessions acquired over his some sixty-plus years. It was an insanity of odd angles, with futons and ladders jammed into the last square inches left amidst fragile boxes shotput over the top of previously avalanched stacks. I offered to do it for nothing, or a meal or whatever, but he threw a Franklin at me. It was great fun.
Conversations, on the other hand, with their projections and politics, issues and confusions, I have little taste for. It is fascinating to me that work has become tremendous fun, while socializing has offered the greatest suffering. Even this as I wrote in my journal last night brings forth a prayer: May this suffering initiate my attention to blessing and my intention to bless.
A few days ago, I unloaded some 50 hay bales, after work, before transporting a friend's sauna in a borrowed truck. I got home after 9 pm, and a 14-plus hour day. I was very sore the next day, like I haven't been since old farming days. I even felt a touch of anger, from the sheer stiffness and exhaustion of the body. But I was still able to unload a couple tons of wine at work. And the following day, the soreness had given way to normal wellness.
I am grateful to realize I have moved beyond anger. I noticed hanging out with another friend I enjoyed last night, that what we had in common is an absence of fighting-mind. I hadn't fully realized it until then, but I have felt almost no anger the last couple months. I think the combination of facing mortality near me this year, vegetarianism, and living with a focus on spirituality and service has granted me an energized life with little room for that indulgence.
I see how we have only this moment now, and I will not waste it attending to anything other than Love.
Yesterday, I helped a friend jam a storage shed, far too small for the job, full of possessions acquired over his some sixty-plus years. It was an insanity of odd angles, with futons and ladders jammed into the last square inches left amidst fragile boxes shotput over the top of previously avalanched stacks. I offered to do it for nothing, or a meal or whatever, but he threw a Franklin at me. It was great fun.
Conversations, on the other hand, with their projections and politics, issues and confusions, I have little taste for. It is fascinating to me that work has become tremendous fun, while socializing has offered the greatest suffering. Even this as I wrote in my journal last night brings forth a prayer: May this suffering initiate my attention to blessing and my intention to bless.
A few days ago, I unloaded some 50 hay bales, after work, before transporting a friend's sauna in a borrowed truck. I got home after 9 pm, and a 14-plus hour day. I was very sore the next day, like I haven't been since old farming days. I even felt a touch of anger, from the sheer stiffness and exhaustion of the body. But I was still able to unload a couple tons of wine at work. And the following day, the soreness had given way to normal wellness.
I am grateful to realize I have moved beyond anger. I noticed hanging out with another friend I enjoyed last night, that what we had in common is an absence of fighting-mind. I hadn't fully realized it until then, but I have felt almost no anger the last couple months. I think the combination of facing mortality near me this year, vegetarianism, and living with a focus on spirituality and service has granted me an energized life with little room for that indulgence.
I see how we have only this moment now, and I will not waste it attending to anything other than Love.
Friday, September 9, 2011
dream
getting out of the city has been useful
to realizing chi is indeed free
and thus living the dream
quiet comes to me now
and i am enjoying practicing requests:
do you need labor?
can i borrow your truck?
how can i help?
-----
yesterday i milked the goats again
getting the hang of using two hands now
the day before i hauled a truckload of wood
after work which is going fine as well
and saw a rainbow on the ground
today i hope to build the garden
after getting propane
and buying peaches from a friend
at the farmer's market
sunday i'll unload hay for another friend
and then borrow his truck
to move a sauna up to the land
and who knows
what tomorrow will bring?
-----
i enjoy deeply restorative sleep most nights
after long days of labor
i enjoy vegetarian fare tremendously
feel strong and peaceful
eating homemade tortillas and beans
abundant exchanges happen
when all is a giveaway
that is what the ponderosas say
or is it the wind
moving through them?
to realizing chi is indeed free
and thus living the dream
quiet comes to me now
and i am enjoying practicing requests:
do you need labor?
can i borrow your truck?
how can i help?
-----
yesterday i milked the goats again
getting the hang of using two hands now
the day before i hauled a truckload of wood
after work which is going fine as well
and saw a rainbow on the ground
today i hope to build the garden
after getting propane
and buying peaches from a friend
at the farmer's market
sunday i'll unload hay for another friend
and then borrow his truck
to move a sauna up to the land
and who knows
what tomorrow will bring?
-----
i enjoy deeply restorative sleep most nights
after long days of labor
i enjoy vegetarian fare tremendously
feel strong and peaceful
eating homemade tortillas and beans
abundant exchanges happen
when all is a giveaway
that is what the ponderosas say
or is it the wind
moving through them?
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
On the Way
A final afternoon in Burque reminds me how relatively easy things are down here. There is less drama, more anonymity (for me at least), a tad more oxygen. But I think this may not be the time for prioritizing ease.
I will now be living in a yurt, and occasional tent, in the hills. There is a month or so for my friend and I to get power, water, and heat squared away for the autumn, which comes early at 8000 feet. It is nearly half an hour on rough roads to work, where we do twice the volume of the store I worked at down here. I currently have less than $200 in the bank.
Why? I am following the calling of Spirit as best I can. I am helping one of my closest friends, who has been ill for several years, to try and get a safe place to live, so he can begin to rebuild his strength. I am seeking to purify the channel between myself and Creator, and I have been impressed by the power of the land to support it offers my meditations.
In this regard, I have been vegetarian for nearly two months now, as well as free of alcohol and sexual activity. Because I was ready for them, these practices have not been particularly difficult. It also has helped that my focus is clear: I want to become the change I seek in the world. I long to be on a path of spiritual service, less concerned with fleeting satisfactions of the self, more invested in that which persists.
So these are some of the things I have chosen to that end. I don't know where I will be called or how the economics will manifest. I am trusting that by doing the things I am more immediately called to, a path unfolds.
-----
This week, I have added an intention to eliminate what have proven to be further distractions: coffee and pot. I expect this will be harder, as I work at the busiest retail environment in New Mexico, and as most of my closest friends are stoners. I have also, at times, just enjoyed using these substances. Shunning them, I will be sacrificing some of those endorphin-rich spaces people use for bonding.
It is no coincidence I am dealing with these together, as they share similarities in the experiences they promote. Both promise more. Users of either dismiss any concerns about their use. Pot expands awareness, and coffee generates greater performance in the world, right?
Well both are hindering the clarity of my chi now. Coffee drains the natural energy of the body, that which comes from sleeping deeply and waking up refreshed. And pot creates too much desire--spiritual desire included. There is too much chatter, perhaps too much enlightenment? Both generate a kind of drama I no longer need. Caffeinated heroic achievement of overworking for peanuts turns out to be self-defeating. Anandamide synapse-mediated weaving of vast abstractions becomes confusing to try to maintain or translate.
I want greater simplicity.
-----
I don't know if there is a monastery or community I will belong to. I don't know if I will farm or take up some particular form of service to others. I don't know if family needs will call.
Perhaps these will prove to be times of social collapse, and we will find ourselves exactly where we are, with just our deepest resources to find our way.
In all cases, I wish to be as ready as I can be to follow the callings that may arise, by following those callings I find now. On the way.
I will now be living in a yurt, and occasional tent, in the hills. There is a month or so for my friend and I to get power, water, and heat squared away for the autumn, which comes early at 8000 feet. It is nearly half an hour on rough roads to work, where we do twice the volume of the store I worked at down here. I currently have less than $200 in the bank.
Why? I am following the calling of Spirit as best I can. I am helping one of my closest friends, who has been ill for several years, to try and get a safe place to live, so he can begin to rebuild his strength. I am seeking to purify the channel between myself and Creator, and I have been impressed by the power of the land to support it offers my meditations.
In this regard, I have been vegetarian for nearly two months now, as well as free of alcohol and sexual activity. Because I was ready for them, these practices have not been particularly difficult. It also has helped that my focus is clear: I want to become the change I seek in the world. I long to be on a path of spiritual service, less concerned with fleeting satisfactions of the self, more invested in that which persists.
So these are some of the things I have chosen to that end. I don't know where I will be called or how the economics will manifest. I am trusting that by doing the things I am more immediately called to, a path unfolds.
-----
This week, I have added an intention to eliminate what have proven to be further distractions: coffee and pot. I expect this will be harder, as I work at the busiest retail environment in New Mexico, and as most of my closest friends are stoners. I have also, at times, just enjoyed using these substances. Shunning them, I will be sacrificing some of those endorphin-rich spaces people use for bonding.
It is no coincidence I am dealing with these together, as they share similarities in the experiences they promote. Both promise more. Users of either dismiss any concerns about their use. Pot expands awareness, and coffee generates greater performance in the world, right?
Well both are hindering the clarity of my chi now. Coffee drains the natural energy of the body, that which comes from sleeping deeply and waking up refreshed. And pot creates too much desire--spiritual desire included. There is too much chatter, perhaps too much enlightenment? Both generate a kind of drama I no longer need. Caffeinated heroic achievement of overworking for peanuts turns out to be self-defeating. Anandamide synapse-mediated weaving of vast abstractions becomes confusing to try to maintain or translate.
I want greater simplicity.
-----
I don't know if there is a monastery or community I will belong to. I don't know if I will farm or take up some particular form of service to others. I don't know if family needs will call.
Perhaps these will prove to be times of social collapse, and we will find ourselves exactly where we are, with just our deepest resources to find our way.
In all cases, I wish to be as ready as I can be to follow the callings that may arise, by following those callings I find now. On the way.
Monday, August 29, 2011
how it is
This sore throat night-sweat illness
while packing all my stuff out of the construction zone-yard to move to a place where there is no space for my stuff
before going to work on a night shift the day after a morning shift at the most manic retail biz in the southwestern united states
is about right as a metaphor for my life.
-----
I pay the price for my arrogance every day
Friday's dream had a cross on top of a church yell to me hey mike and then turning into a white knight accelerating toward me with long pike.
I moved out of the way to watch him land in a heap.
This made no sense to me until Saturday's dream in which I was at work at some nebulous job surreptitiously yet quite unselfconsciously downloading pornography.
I realized that the first dream was quite clearly an expression of my libido as superego, and the second dream, libido as id.
This is strange for I am not a Freudian and have not gathered much meaning from that spiritless worldview.
These dreams imply the question: where is the integration of the ego-self? In doing so, they pose a direct challenge to the no-self of my waking conscious zen and gnostic pursuits.
Yet that is how it is these days--
complicated.
-----
Sunday's dream was very vivid, even lucid in moments.
I was racing up a staircase on some spirit quest and arriving at a landing felt extreme vertigo.
I remembered in the past I had made a leap at that point, but the leap in front of me was much too far, so i turned to see the staircase rise in an unexpected direction
I then found myself facing my recently deceased friend, Mike Brown. He was in a typical (for him) relaxed posture on the stairs, and was very radiant. He was young, even younger than when I'd originally met him, perhaps 19, strong, with a full head of curly hair.
He was speaking already as I arrived, and said that he is "continuing to profit," which as a lifelong businessman was an appropriate thing for him to say. It arrived in my mind as an expression of his zen, that he was continuing to reap benefit to his soul's journey from the years of his spiritual practice.
He said I should go visiting on the 5th. I was lucid enough to ask if he meant I should attend the services coming up for him on the 4th. He said the 4th and 5th--it would be "money well spent." He also offered some other sage advice which was promptly forgotten upon awakening.
I then heard his voice in my mind saying, "I said be gentle with yourself. And take good care." The oddness of his voice coming into my head when I was already awake, with another message, was also very typical of the offbeat humor that colored Mike's life.
Sadly, there is almost no way I can get to those services, between getting time off, expenses, energy reserves, and organizing my current move to the chaos of the land.
Again it's just how my life is: Even honoring messages from close friends from the other side get deprioritized while I try to keep life and limb together in this wage-slave waking nightmare.
I will try to be gentle with myself.
while packing all my stuff out of the construction zone-yard to move to a place where there is no space for my stuff
before going to work on a night shift the day after a morning shift at the most manic retail biz in the southwestern united states
is about right as a metaphor for my life.
-----
I pay the price for my arrogance every day
Friday's dream had a cross on top of a church yell to me hey mike and then turning into a white knight accelerating toward me with long pike.
I moved out of the way to watch him land in a heap.
This made no sense to me until Saturday's dream in which I was at work at some nebulous job surreptitiously yet quite unselfconsciously downloading pornography.
I realized that the first dream was quite clearly an expression of my libido as superego, and the second dream, libido as id.
This is strange for I am not a Freudian and have not gathered much meaning from that spiritless worldview.
These dreams imply the question: where is the integration of the ego-self? In doing so, they pose a direct challenge to the no-self of my waking conscious zen and gnostic pursuits.
Yet that is how it is these days--
complicated.
-----
Sunday's dream was very vivid, even lucid in moments.
I was racing up a staircase on some spirit quest and arriving at a landing felt extreme vertigo.
I remembered in the past I had made a leap at that point, but the leap in front of me was much too far, so i turned to see the staircase rise in an unexpected direction
I then found myself facing my recently deceased friend, Mike Brown. He was in a typical (for him) relaxed posture on the stairs, and was very radiant. He was young, even younger than when I'd originally met him, perhaps 19, strong, with a full head of curly hair.
He was speaking already as I arrived, and said that he is "continuing to profit," which as a lifelong businessman was an appropriate thing for him to say. It arrived in my mind as an expression of his zen, that he was continuing to reap benefit to his soul's journey from the years of his spiritual practice.
He said I should go visiting on the 5th. I was lucid enough to ask if he meant I should attend the services coming up for him on the 4th. He said the 4th and 5th--it would be "money well spent." He also offered some other sage advice which was promptly forgotten upon awakening.
I then heard his voice in my mind saying, "I said be gentle with yourself. And take good care." The oddness of his voice coming into my head when I was already awake, with another message, was also very typical of the offbeat humor that colored Mike's life.
Sadly, there is almost no way I can get to those services, between getting time off, expenses, energy reserves, and organizing my current move to the chaos of the land.
Again it's just how my life is: Even honoring messages from close friends from the other side get deprioritized while I try to keep life and limb together in this wage-slave waking nightmare.
I will try to be gentle with myself.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
god of exhausted amusements
My dark cloud morning was enhanced by the beauty I knew was all around me, but I could barely see.
With spirit shut down from overwork, there was little I could do to find anything beyond my own grouchiness. I wondered why each of my grand plans over the years turned into a brutally unfulfilling regime. Why do I imagine there will be any pleasure in working a fulltime job with midnight shifts, while moving stuff yet again, while hauling wood and arranging goat care in my time off?
I dragged my creaky posture up the trail on aching feet one more time, with one more box to put in the already overcrowded yurt. Screeching tree-bird barely catches my attention, but offers at least a moment of distraction, which is more than I can say for my morning attempts at the chanting. Was it re-reading Sensei's harsh appraisal of what it will take to save this civilization that got me in such a funk? It has been known to in the past.
Was it trying to go a day without coffee? Was it the email I sent to a Nicaraguan farmer, and the subsequent dread of getting stuck in some barely disguised labor camp in a foreign country? Who knows--just get to the now, somehow! Finally the last box is moved, and I sit in the car, grateful for a moment of rest in this life. Maybe that is all I get now, at 48 summers-passed. But it is enough, and my spirit begins to return.
Whose handwriting is that? On top of a box of journals is a list of notes from someone to me, apparently organizing my appointments. When did I ever have a personal assistant? And why do I need to keep these things? I tell the boxes this is the last time they will be moved. My twenty years of journals will be either be stored on this land, or they will be burned here. I will not move them again.
I imagine it is like everything else. We shlep around our stuff, this body, trying to get this or that done, and then it all gets burned in the end. And we hope some god is amused. I start to feel lighter, reconnecting to the nothingness of all this sturm-und-drang of the mind.
On the way into town, I notice the lush greenness that has taken over the hills overnight with the rains. I glance at the driveways where friends' homes are or were. My all-wheel-drive welcomes the mudslides that have temporarily reclaimed much of Old Santa Fe Trail.
Realistically, I will help out with land-based work as I can. The right amount of such physical work is deeply enjoyable. But look at this body: I am no ox. My calling is more to the monastery, where I can help revive the world with a different sort of effort. And to the social world, where I can serve the love that is our nature.
Arriving at the cafe, I receive an unexpected message on my phone. My young friend Alex reports he has two even-younger friends eager to help out with the hoop house, gardens, and otherwise working to set up the land.
I could almost laugh out loud.
With spirit shut down from overwork, there was little I could do to find anything beyond my own grouchiness. I wondered why each of my grand plans over the years turned into a brutally unfulfilling regime. Why do I imagine there will be any pleasure in working a fulltime job with midnight shifts, while moving stuff yet again, while hauling wood and arranging goat care in my time off?
I dragged my creaky posture up the trail on aching feet one more time, with one more box to put in the already overcrowded yurt. Screeching tree-bird barely catches my attention, but offers at least a moment of distraction, which is more than I can say for my morning attempts at the chanting. Was it re-reading Sensei's harsh appraisal of what it will take to save this civilization that got me in such a funk? It has been known to in the past.
Was it trying to go a day without coffee? Was it the email I sent to a Nicaraguan farmer, and the subsequent dread of getting stuck in some barely disguised labor camp in a foreign country? Who knows--just get to the now, somehow! Finally the last box is moved, and I sit in the car, grateful for a moment of rest in this life. Maybe that is all I get now, at 48 summers-passed. But it is enough, and my spirit begins to return.
Whose handwriting is that? On top of a box of journals is a list of notes from someone to me, apparently organizing my appointments. When did I ever have a personal assistant? And why do I need to keep these things? I tell the boxes this is the last time they will be moved. My twenty years of journals will be either be stored on this land, or they will be burned here. I will not move them again.
I imagine it is like everything else. We shlep around our stuff, this body, trying to get this or that done, and then it all gets burned in the end. And we hope some god is amused. I start to feel lighter, reconnecting to the nothingness of all this sturm-und-drang of the mind.
On the way into town, I notice the lush greenness that has taken over the hills overnight with the rains. I glance at the driveways where friends' homes are or were. My all-wheel-drive welcomes the mudslides that have temporarily reclaimed much of Old Santa Fe Trail.
Realistically, I will help out with land-based work as I can. The right amount of such physical work is deeply enjoyable. But look at this body: I am no ox. My calling is more to the monastery, where I can help revive the world with a different sort of effort. And to the social world, where I can serve the love that is our nature.
Arriving at the cafe, I receive an unexpected message on my phone. My young friend Alex reports he has two even-younger friends eager to help out with the hoop house, gardens, and otherwise working to set up the land.
I could almost laugh out loud.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
third way
I want to remember: this is not forever.
On my second day back up in Santa Fe, I fall into the norms of its life rhythm. The spaciness of the additional 2000 feet of altitude is mitigated by caffeine. Work is more tolerable than expected, its frantic realness a welcome change from the robotic malaise of recent months. Beautiful women walk by all day long, amidst crowded aisles and a friendly crew.
Two years have passed since I worked here, yet there are many familiar faces on the crew. This strikes me over and over as odd, for I have lived several lives since then. I have lived in two other cities, fallen in and out of love, made dear friends a thousand miles away, quit my job, watched money run out, played music on the street, slept on a pier and lived in a van, had people in my life pass away. I have found out those things in life that matter.
That is why I want to remember this is not forever. It is not because I am suffering some difficult oppression. It is because then I can remember what is real: transformation, and the emptiness of form.
I am not sure what I will get done here. Getting anything done anywhere in these quickening times is a proposition perhaps bold, perhaps delusional. Getting stuff done in this thin air--who knows? Will I get to Lama Thursday as I planned? Will I get back to Burque and get some of my stuff moved? Will I even get up to the land this week? Or will it be embodydance class, marimba class drop-in, or the music party being planned by a friend, which already conflicts with the men's group I was supposed to be a part of starting up? What about those mountains?
Such community, you might think. But as anyone who has lived here knows, this is also a lonely place. I may get to none of the socializing, amidst the demands of work and self-maintenance. It is all okay either way, for my path is set apart from all these happenings, whether they be considered richness of opportunity or illusory distractions. And neither is my path drudgery.
These two opinions of life are quite pronounced up here. Neither are these paths of ecstasy and drudgery mutually exclusive. People indulge a great deal here in alcohol, meat consumption, sexual relations, and getting high. It can be confusing to be around suffering that does not recognize itself as such, as it depletes itself and negativity creeps in.
How long I can remain here, I am not sure. Already the great gift of immediate awareness of mortality feels lessened amidst all this color and personality. If I can maintain a 95% follow through on my commitments around these matters, I will feel good about it. I must keep my eyes on the prize. I am saving money for the communal leap, for the path of service, for putting my soul power to the karmic wheel.
For now, the yoga continues. Breathing, receiving vegetables, finding the calm focused chi, dying each moment into love. As perverse as it may seem, by meditating AMIDST all the stimulation, by somehow finding silence amidst all the noise, I can become stronger in the stretch. To fully drop into that zero point of my Source is easier said than done. Yet the work is always NOW.
I am on my way to remembering.
On my second day back up in Santa Fe, I fall into the norms of its life rhythm. The spaciness of the additional 2000 feet of altitude is mitigated by caffeine. Work is more tolerable than expected, its frantic realness a welcome change from the robotic malaise of recent months. Beautiful women walk by all day long, amidst crowded aisles and a friendly crew.
Two years have passed since I worked here, yet there are many familiar faces on the crew. This strikes me over and over as odd, for I have lived several lives since then. I have lived in two other cities, fallen in and out of love, made dear friends a thousand miles away, quit my job, watched money run out, played music on the street, slept on a pier and lived in a van, had people in my life pass away. I have found out those things in life that matter.
That is why I want to remember this is not forever. It is not because I am suffering some difficult oppression. It is because then I can remember what is real: transformation, and the emptiness of form.
I am not sure what I will get done here. Getting anything done anywhere in these quickening times is a proposition perhaps bold, perhaps delusional. Getting stuff done in this thin air--who knows? Will I get to Lama Thursday as I planned? Will I get back to Burque and get some of my stuff moved? Will I even get up to the land this week? Or will it be embodydance class, marimba class drop-in, or the music party being planned by a friend, which already conflicts with the men's group I was supposed to be a part of starting up? What about those mountains?
Such community, you might think. But as anyone who has lived here knows, this is also a lonely place. I may get to none of the socializing, amidst the demands of work and self-maintenance. It is all okay either way, for my path is set apart from all these happenings, whether they be considered richness of opportunity or illusory distractions. And neither is my path drudgery.
These two opinions of life are quite pronounced up here. Neither are these paths of ecstasy and drudgery mutually exclusive. People indulge a great deal here in alcohol, meat consumption, sexual relations, and getting high. It can be confusing to be around suffering that does not recognize itself as such, as it depletes itself and negativity creeps in.
How long I can remain here, I am not sure. Already the great gift of immediate awareness of mortality feels lessened amidst all this color and personality. If I can maintain a 95% follow through on my commitments around these matters, I will feel good about it. I must keep my eyes on the prize. I am saving money for the communal leap, for the path of service, for putting my soul power to the karmic wheel.
For now, the yoga continues. Breathing, receiving vegetables, finding the calm focused chi, dying each moment into love. As perverse as it may seem, by meditating AMIDST all the stimulation, by somehow finding silence amidst all the noise, I can become stronger in the stretch. To fully drop into that zero point of my Source is easier said than done. Yet the work is always NOW.
I am on my way to remembering.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
altitude
Yesterday I was able to get very quiet. Outside of work, I am more and more finding the space to just allow time to be a meditative flow. Thoughts move at a relaxing pace, one after another, without urgency to be anywhere other than where I am. Sometimes, I notice very little thought at all. In these moments, a strong and gentle celebration rises up in me. I am connected to an energy that is essential to life. There is gratitude and a quiet fulfillment.
I am certain the practice of vegetarianism over the last month or two is contributing to a smoother flow of chi. Temperance, or refraining from alcohol use, is helpful, although perhaps celibacy practice even more so. It has been a good couple of months, amidst health challenges and the arrival of mortality to my inner circle. These challenges have focused my attention on what is real and essential in life, and on letting go of the rest. What a gift.
The meditative and cleansing practices have allowed Spirit to come through with clearer guidance. Paths are unfolding without having to worry or figure too much out. I move with more grace, and offer to be of service, as I seek to support a more benevolent world. Christianity and zen have come into integration. Yoga--or the union of self with the Divine--has removed my shame at having conflicts in my life. They are grist for the mill of my evolution, as in physical yoga, where it is through the opposing push and pull of each pose that the deeply strengthening stretch is found.
Now, despite my inability to explain to coworkers why I would return to the crazy store, I return to Santa Fe. It is not only that Albuquerque no longer reflects reality to me, with its excess concrete, urban jadedness, and walls. Indeed, I am grateful to the town for the ease with which it receives me when I need a place to get a little bit underground. Now, I am coming out into the light again, at pondersosa altitude. It is a next step in the proactive manifestation of a joyful world.
I am certain the practice of vegetarianism over the last month or two is contributing to a smoother flow of chi. Temperance, or refraining from alcohol use, is helpful, although perhaps celibacy practice even more so. It has been a good couple of months, amidst health challenges and the arrival of mortality to my inner circle. These challenges have focused my attention on what is real and essential in life, and on letting go of the rest. What a gift.
The meditative and cleansing practices have allowed Spirit to come through with clearer guidance. Paths are unfolding without having to worry or figure too much out. I move with more grace, and offer to be of service, as I seek to support a more benevolent world. Christianity and zen have come into integration. Yoga--or the union of self with the Divine--has removed my shame at having conflicts in my life. They are grist for the mill of my evolution, as in physical yoga, where it is through the opposing push and pull of each pose that the deeply strengthening stretch is found.
Now, despite my inability to explain to coworkers why I would return to the crazy store, I return to Santa Fe. It is not only that Albuquerque no longer reflects reality to me, with its excess concrete, urban jadedness, and walls. Indeed, I am grateful to the town for the ease with which it receives me when I need a place to get a little bit underground. Now, I am coming out into the light again, at pondersosa altitude. It is a next step in the proactive manifestation of a joyful world.
Monday, August 8, 2011
sacred medicine
I am strangely reassured by an armadillo statue. It sits just outside the front door of a friend's place from which I am writing. It meets up with a strange sort of spiritual commitment I have long ago made.
Here I am now with three sore lymph nodes in my groin, about two inches proximal to a bug bite, that a reasonable guess would take to be a flea's. This itchy spot came on about the time I was traveling through Oklahoma some two weeks ago. It was where I encountered an armadillo.
It was 95 degrees or so, and staring at the top of the tent and sweating for two hours had gotten me approximately zero percent closer to sleep. Suddenly I heard a crashing sound. And knowing that I was the only camper in the entire lakeside park meant only one thing: I had left my car window open and the armadillo who had crunched her way out of the nearby foliage to introduce himself to me earlier was in my car, eating my food.
I was relieved at the tension this broke in my general suffering of the elements. I whacked tent poles on the ground as I move toward the car, and by the time I reached it, there was no one around, just an open window. And oats and cornflakes and odiously malty protein powder strewed throughout the passenger compartment.
I threw the tent and bag in the car and got a motel for a decent seven hours sleep. That was two weeks ago. The only questions that remain is: did s/he leave me a flea, and is it bubonically infectious. I respond to this by focusing on vibrating at a different frequency than that at which the trauma was created.
Maybe I'm like the idiotic fundamentalists who don't take kids with severe illnesses to get medical help. Or else I could be some energetic master who manifests dis-eases in order to overcome them. A paranoid hypochondriac. The common thread with all the interpretations of self is that I am committed.
Or soon will be.
What I am committed to has been known in many ways, often wordless. Zen, Tao, Tai Chi, God, Divinity, the Beloved, Source, Creator, Christ Consciousness, Holy Spirit. The experience is one of faith that comes from abiding within exactly that which is. From fully realizing this moment now. The yoga of tension--between the external demands of the world and the truth of that which persists--which calls forth my proactive becoming. In my proactive response, I choose to vibrate gratitude...or tune into beauty...love unconditionally...
Or one or more of the other myriad healing vibrational structures known as "needs" in the nonviolent communication model. Divine resource is a better description, the source of all abundance. Visually to me it is a field of diamond-like facets with emptiness at its core. Perhaps this is the 6th chakra aspect, at least, of that which is.
Love matters. And in this case, it is loving that armadillo, even if it means I am finished. Receiving the medicine, I realize I have done this before.
Here I am now with three sore lymph nodes in my groin, about two inches proximal to a bug bite, that a reasonable guess would take to be a flea's. This itchy spot came on about the time I was traveling through Oklahoma some two weeks ago. It was where I encountered an armadillo.
It was 95 degrees or so, and staring at the top of the tent and sweating for two hours had gotten me approximately zero percent closer to sleep. Suddenly I heard a crashing sound. And knowing that I was the only camper in the entire lakeside park meant only one thing: I had left my car window open and the armadillo who had crunched her way out of the nearby foliage to introduce himself to me earlier was in my car, eating my food.
I was relieved at the tension this broke in my general suffering of the elements. I whacked tent poles on the ground as I move toward the car, and by the time I reached it, there was no one around, just an open window. And oats and cornflakes and odiously malty protein powder strewed throughout the passenger compartment.
I threw the tent and bag in the car and got a motel for a decent seven hours sleep. That was two weeks ago. The only questions that remain is: did s/he leave me a flea, and is it bubonically infectious. I respond to this by focusing on vibrating at a different frequency than that at which the trauma was created.
Maybe I'm like the idiotic fundamentalists who don't take kids with severe illnesses to get medical help. Or else I could be some energetic master who manifests dis-eases in order to overcome them. A paranoid hypochondriac. The common thread with all the interpretations of self is that I am committed.
Or soon will be.
What I am committed to has been known in many ways, often wordless. Zen, Tao, Tai Chi, God, Divinity, the Beloved, Source, Creator, Christ Consciousness, Holy Spirit. The experience is one of faith that comes from abiding within exactly that which is. From fully realizing this moment now. The yoga of tension--between the external demands of the world and the truth of that which persists--which calls forth my proactive becoming. In my proactive response, I choose to vibrate gratitude...or tune into beauty...love unconditionally...
Or one or more of the other myriad healing vibrational structures known as "needs" in the nonviolent communication model. Divine resource is a better description, the source of all abundance. Visually to me it is a field of diamond-like facets with emptiness at its core. Perhaps this is the 6th chakra aspect, at least, of that which is.
Love matters. And in this case, it is loving that armadillo, even if it means I am finished. Receiving the medicine, I realize I have done this before.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
pay the cost
my vibration is very low today
i don't know exactly why
i think it has to do with too much time spent
in artificial environments
hard floors hurt my feet
skin not enjoying fluorescent lights
not enough touch
too much lifting
and the seeming presence of a bubble
over the entire operation screaming
you don't really exist
i know
don't tell me
it seems like such a nice place to work
yes it does
-----
everything i understand now is beyond words
i've tried for a week to talk to anyone
friend or stranger
about something significant
but its just stuff your face
and get moving now
in america
i visited a place eons ago
or was it a week
where pretty 3 BR houses
in nice small town neighborhoods
with spiritual community and land available
for 50K
the economic crash may bring things down
to my level soon
i'd pay 10K for a house
and have people over a lot
nvc group, men's group, zen group, freeform jam group
see how much time i waste in fantasy
-----
when mortality comes
nothing else matters
but real things like healing trauma
stepping into bliss now with this one moment
we have left
loving
finding out the true nature of things
conversing with trees
plants and the earth
i am close to despair
but i know the best times come
when it flips
it flips for good
i don't know exactly why
i think it has to do with too much time spent
in artificial environments
hard floors hurt my feet
skin not enjoying fluorescent lights
not enough touch
too much lifting
and the seeming presence of a bubble
over the entire operation screaming
you don't really exist
i know
don't tell me
it seems like such a nice place to work
yes it does
-----
everything i understand now is beyond words
i've tried for a week to talk to anyone
friend or stranger
about something significant
but its just stuff your face
and get moving now
in america
i visited a place eons ago
or was it a week
where pretty 3 BR houses
in nice small town neighborhoods
with spiritual community and land available
for 50K
the economic crash may bring things down
to my level soon
i'd pay 10K for a house
and have people over a lot
nvc group, men's group, zen group, freeform jam group
see how much time i waste in fantasy
-----
when mortality comes
nothing else matters
but real things like healing trauma
stepping into bliss now with this one moment
we have left
loving
finding out the true nature of things
conversing with trees
plants and the earth
i am close to despair
but i know the best times come
when it flips
it flips for good
Friday, August 5, 2011
transformations
I just drove 1500 miles to spend a week with my second family to try to help them reckon with the impending death of my friend, Mike, of 30 years. He is struggling mightily, and as his acupuncturist of many years, I offered some healing work. Amid the complexity of his condition and my lack of active practice, it was hard to know how much work to do, but it gave us space to connect in a healing way.
While I was in Indiana, I met the daughter of Pastor Phil who I stayed with in Indianapolis a few years ago, and who had since died suddenly in a car accident. I also saw my friend Viona who, along with her husband Ken, I stayed with for a couple months last time I lived there. Ken is Mike's uncle, and died of a sudden illness last year. It was the first time I'd seen Viona since, and was glad to hear her reassurance that Ken had come to acceptance around his death.
I then drove 1500 miles to spend two days with my sister, Martha, whose death is also impending. She has not been the same since her closest friend took her own life without warning several months ago. As my sister loses the last functions of her body, she is actively planning her own death. The kids will likely never see her again. While in NY, I took my niece to the beach, and had a frightening moment losing her under a wave. She is fine, but in that moment I changed.
I returned back to Indiana to play violin at the Sunday service on my way back. One of the church elders had died in a bizarre accident during the days I was gone, which heightened the significance of the closing piece I had chosen, I'll Fly Away. Some people cried.
Later, as I was preparing to leave Mike, I was sitting with his wife Judi, and daughter Ambrosia, admiring their strength. A friend of Mike's, the only man I know to have achieved awakening in his zen practice, came by to see Mike. Before he had left, another powerful presence arrived in Cliff Kindy, leader of Christian Peacemaker Teams for years in Iraq and Gaza, to see Mike as well. He asked Mike, "What do we need to do to help the world persist amidst all that is going on?" He answered, "It's just there."
Then I drove 1500 miles home.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
time's up
i like wearing shades in public now
i'm moving to santa fe
and the veil bewteen the worlds
is very thin
enlightenment opportunities abound
the synchronicities are so ridiculous
the suffering so immense
i simply can not afford the delusion any longer
that of projection
-----
fortunately time's up
there is not much more to say or do
money has eaten everything
i choose the unwinding
holding the psychic capacity to think
and to meditate
the last and only freedom
i will ever have is my breath
soon i will be more in nature
that is all i know
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
4500 miles qualifies as getting out of dodge
now there's nothing left to say
i am here and there is nothing left in this town
except its ease
spiritual community matters
but here in the poor state
the concept just shines a spotlight
on the wretched underpinnings
comfort and security
-----
aztec dances and dusty organic farms
amidst wage slavery
people here are simply hardier than me
soon i will have enough money
to just go away again
smoke weed and busk perhaps
burrow deeper
in newly-generated hiding places
until the world finally consumes itself
completely
like a snake eating its own tail
the system will fall
will it be a nuclear conflagration
or a barbed-wire totalitarian trip
back in the day
there were no guns
and someday again there will be none
the question is whether
there will be humans
-----
every place is so different
in indiana there is no armageddon
enough land and community
that there is sanity
in past lives
it was just the threat of drudgery
needing to be kept at bay
here though
there is ever an urgency
so what i channel when i write
is the energy of those 2000
nuclear warheads buried
but a few miles away
i am here and there is nothing left in this town
except its ease
spiritual community matters
but here in the poor state
the concept just shines a spotlight
on the wretched underpinnings
comfort and security
-----
aztec dances and dusty organic farms
amidst wage slavery
people here are simply hardier than me
soon i will have enough money
to just go away again
smoke weed and busk perhaps
burrow deeper
in newly-generated hiding places
until the world finally consumes itself
completely
like a snake eating its own tail
the system will fall
will it be a nuclear conflagration
or a barbed-wire totalitarian trip
back in the day
there were no guns
and someday again there will be none
the question is whether
there will be humans
-----
every place is so different
in indiana there is no armageddon
enough land and community
that there is sanity
in past lives
it was just the threat of drudgery
needing to be kept at bay
here though
there is ever an urgency
so what i channel when i write
is the energy of those 2000
nuclear warheads buried
but a few miles away
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Joyfield Farm
acres of hand-dug organic beds 
a colorful array
you could probably eat the soil
but you don't have to--lots of other options!
yurtfolk 
berry patch
homemade golf course
serious woodpile
foliage
sunset over Joyfield Farm
Monday, July 25, 2011
good friends
a lovely evening out at Joyfield farm
where I played music and caught up with good friends
shared really good food and homemade ice cream
amidst berry patches and chickens
a field-turned-golf course for the boys
and acres of hand-dug organic gardens
got some great info for getting library music gigs rolling
which is how these folks make their living
traveling and teaching
they made time tonight
on the porch outside their yurt
before their journey tomorrow to Wisconsin
-----
yesterday I met with an old friend
whose husband had passed last year
they had put me up last time i was in town
five years ago
we shared a moment of grieving
and celebration
i played music with her son-in-law
on her new deck under cicada-laden foliage
and stories began to come forth
amidst the folk music
of the good old days
some laughter and tears
as I saw my friend Mike relax
for the first time since I arrived
-----
these are good days
I have eaten freshly-picked melons
ripe cherries and apricots
peaches are coming soon
and tonight i saw
fireflies
where I played music and caught up with good friends
shared really good food and homemade ice cream
amidst berry patches and chickens
a field-turned-golf course for the boys
and acres of hand-dug organic gardens
got some great info for getting library music gigs rolling
which is how these folks make their living
traveling and teaching
they made time tonight
on the porch outside their yurt
before their journey tomorrow to Wisconsin
-----
yesterday I met with an old friend
whose husband had passed last year
they had put me up last time i was in town
five years ago
we shared a moment of grieving
and celebration
i played music with her son-in-law
on her new deck under cicada-laden foliage
and stories began to come forth
amidst the folk music
of the good old days
some laughter and tears
as I saw my friend Mike relax
for the first time since I arrived
-----
these are good days
I have eaten freshly-picked melons
ripe cherries and apricots
peaches are coming soon
and tonight i saw
fireflies
Sunday, July 24, 2011
back roads
a beautiful morning
meditating in the hills above santa fe
after sleeping under the stars
transendent afternoon
in deep conversation with a dear friend
in the shady grass of the rose park
an evening gathering of community
at the hospital where he got stitched up
after a bike accident on his way home
burque travel prep for the grinding
1200 mile trip through the alienation
of bible-belt billboard unreality
armadillos tossing cornflakes
and oats throughout my car
liberating me from delusions of sleeping
in empty 90-degree midnight campgrounds
additional motel expense
and a speeding ticket
but arriving safely
to the gentle back roads
welcoming cornfields and thick musty smells
of muggy indiana in july
tiny farmers market offering
instant community
which somehow vanishes
a sick friend is suffering
amidst confusion
and great despair
meditating in the hills above santa fe
after sleeping under the stars
transendent afternoon
in deep conversation with a dear friend
in the shady grass of the rose park
an evening gathering of community
at the hospital where he got stitched up
after a bike accident on his way home
burque travel prep for the grinding
1200 mile trip through the alienation
of bible-belt billboard unreality
armadillos tossing cornflakes
and oats throughout my car
liberating me from delusions of sleeping
in empty 90-degree midnight campgrounds
additional motel expense
and a speeding ticket
but arriving safely
to the gentle back roads
welcoming cornfields and thick musty smells
of muggy indiana in july
tiny farmers market offering
instant community
which somehow vanishes
a sick friend is suffering
amidst confusion
and great despair
Monday, July 18, 2011
vacation day one: Santa Fe reflections
well not the worst start to a vacation
catching up on correspondence over too much yerba matte
where i saw a facebook notice from a new old friend
inspiring me to head up to santa fe
for a memorial service
for a recently deceased musical friend
i reconnected with several old buddies
in a good way
as we mourned the passing of a very creative soul
who some of them were very close to
and with whom i recall the timeless heart connection
that followed upon a particularly empathic
honest and forgiving conversation
-----
when people asked how i'm doing
i kinda shined them on
how do i describe
how my entire karass
nearly everyone i am close to in this world
is transitioning in seismic ways
preparing to leave this plane
or dramatically reckoning with its increasing density
in hospitals and on the streets
or with blood and brain disorders
why bother to talk about personal dramas
like suffering torn muscles
and miraculous healings that follow?
there is no context for anything
i am currently experiencing
-----
and how can i explain
my immense frustration
that i feel similar to a pipe carrier
of an ancient tradition few people know
that is proving vibrationally precise and powerful
in shifting manifestation around me
and offering healing
but i can barely explain even on a good day
without edging toward mania?
-----
what of my car which will likely
get me nowhere this vacation
disappointing precious hopeful-faced kids
already depressed siblings
dearest friends struggling to survive
and 30-year mentors
seeking my healing input
and who i may never see again?
-----
amidst the familiar faces i see around town
on the plaza and at the railyards
i wonder if perhaps it is part of my dharma
to make grand plans only to have them fall through
perhaps personal or generational karma
is in my way
simple ineptitude
at getting auto repair scheduled
or maybe i just struggle too much
with wanting to escape entirely
from participation in the american war machine nightmare
and the increasingly obvious indictment of the money system
in perpetuating the violence
but try explaining that
to your nine year-old niece
Thursday, July 14, 2011
into the liminal
alright then
so i already committed to see my friend mike
who western medicine has given up on
and his family in indiana
and i similarly committed
in talking to my nephew
and my sister suffering from MS
nearly complete debility now
to visit new york also
and i just couldn't book the flight
i was considering to get it all done
partly out of intuition i think
and partly out of exhaustion
just considering the whole trip
-----
it's hard planning things
amidst the end of time
scheduling gets hectic
and who knows what complexities
the coming economic collapse
will add to any logistics
-----
i know i did feel a definite calling
to attend the ongoing social action
at bohemian grove this coming week
a spiritual calling
to stand with those nonviolently
bringing attention to the world's cheaters
just over in no-cal
so this has become my top priority
it's the right action at the right time
in history
to begin the denouement
to this chapter of
the emperor wearing no clothes
-----
so i've invited a couple friends along
one just sent me readings
of the huge increase in plutonium
recorded recently in california
at odds with my craving
for some nurturing beach and street time
stopping in at OB on the way
get in some camping
including up in the redwoods
maybe seeing the folks
or checking in at Hopiland on the way back
i haven't updated my plans yet with the easterners
since i fantasize that i will still have
vacation time to get back and see all of them
the following week
-----
all the while there's the subtext to the travel
of where i might transfer next
or if it is high time to just wwoof out
on a farm somewhere:
what is the truest calling
and where does yoga fit in?
it seems to me that following the first calling
is the best way to generate
the next
-----
i have given notice on the abq place
for sept 1
so while i don't have to go anywhere
in particular
it doesn't look like
i'm staying here
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