I have no choice but to give what I receive. To not do so would be to defy the natural flow of life. And to defy life would mean death. I'd rather choose to be alive. And so I choose to bleed.
October 14, 2012
Bed of Nails
October 11, 2012
Strongmen
_
September 1, 2012
Sticks & Stones ~ The Untold Story
The poem is old but I've never performed it before. As I told the crowd, I wrote it in university for an assignment. I read it to the class as a part of the assignment, but this was before I was aware of or into performance poetry so I definitely didn't write it with this art form in mind. But once I got back into it these past two years, I started going back through my older stuff looking for pieces that might be somehow WORK as a live performance. This is one that caught my eye. I added it to my list a few months ago, and even recorded an audio file (as I do with anything I'm getting ready to perform) and occasionally listened to it in the playlist to start the long process of internalizing it. Because it's written in blank verse, these poems take time. But if you can start puttin little pieces in your head well in advance, that can make the crunch time (when you know you NEED to have it ready) go a lot faster and easier. As it was with this poem.
I've been thinking about performing it lately. It came to mind as a possible foil to the poem I did at Bed Supperclub about kids. Before I knew what Junior wanted me to do exactly (how much time/how many pieces) I was preparing myself for any possibility. So sticks and stones were on my mind.
But that night only called for one poem, so I put it back on the back back burner. And then when I got word of the next poetry night--but only after someone nudged me when I said I wasn't sure if I would do it or not And I WOKE UP--then I finally thought about what poem I would do. I could've done the Montecristo kids poem, but...I've already done it twice now, and three times in a row.......kinda makes me turn my lip up. I have issues with repetition. Even THOUGH none of the people from the first two performances were probably even at that poetry night....it bugs me. Maybe it's cuz I think it's bad for the poem. To use it so flippantly. Like it only has so many uses in its life and I don't wanna use them all up too quick. Does that make sense to you? I really have no idea, but that's kinda how I see it. The more you use something, the more you see something, the more you are exposed to it, the more it loses its power, or its power over you. This isn't true for EVERYTHING, but a lot. I'm probably being overly cautious with this particular example, but...there is more to it than that as well.
Anyway, so yeah, I didn't really feel like performing that poem again so soon. Which brought me to remember the poem down below. And as I soon as I thought about it, I was like, "Alright, cool. Let's do it. The time has come." And I started practicing it like a week in advance. Even changed a few words around and ADDED a whole section to it. There's a verse/paragraph that wasn't there before. I had the idea to add it months ago and it still appealed to me so I did. It's a pretty cool performance piece now. Very solid in content. And, the performance of it itself went down really well. They seemed to really like the piece. And...I messed up a little bit, but no biggie. When you mess up on a light poem, it's way more forgivable than when you mess up on a real serious or heavy poem. Speaking for myself. Even though I changed the pronouns to you for some reason. But yeah, it was cool.
Check out the video, lemme know what you think. PEACE!
what he knew then”
-Eddie Vedder
I remember a time
when the word “play”
wasn’t sexual
and “fudge”
was as close as I got
to the “F” word
It just
felt
wrong
I remember a state of mind
in which it was logically possible
to jump out of tree
while gripping the thin plastic handles
of a white grocery bag
and parachute
to the ground
Only after the sudden landing thinking
“I must not have been high enough”
I remember a place
where my imagination
was my imaginary friend
and I spent the whole days
outside trying to keep up
with him
as my real friends and I
blew things up
with rock grenades
(sound effects included)
and fearlessly
shot ninjas out of trees
with lethal guns made of
sticks, toilet paper rolls
and electrical tape
We were fighting for our lives
But I know now
we were fighting
for our childhood
I remember my friends. They were brothers, Franky and Marcial. They lived up the street, and I played with them almost everyday during the summers, yet the only memory I have of them being inside my house was for a birthday party. The acre of land around my house was enough. That land was ours. The trees, dirt, and dry, brittle bushes, were so rich and fertile, we planted our imagination in them everyday and grew battlegrounds budding with forts made from the trees’ discarded skin. It was magical. Sometimes when one of us had to go ask permission to go to the other’s house, which ever two stayed behind would close their eyes and chant, “I hope he can. I hope he can. I hope he can. I hope he can,” until the other came back with an answer. And every time we did that…it worked. It never failed us. The tighter we squeezed our eyes closed the better. “I hope he can. I hope he can. I hope he can. I hope he can.” That was how powerful we were. That was our magic.
I even remember one time where we wanted to go up to their house so I had to ask permission but I didn’t wannu cuz my mom was in such a foul mood that day that I knew she’d say no and then just by being near her I might spontaneously end up in trouble. But they really wanted me to come over, so I was like “alright, I’ll go ask but don’t do it, don’t do I hope he can.” Cuz I knew it wasn’t gonna work and we were so amazed by this power’s existence that…I didn’t want to break it, and if there was anything more powerful than our collective hopes it was definitely my mother’s anger. And we really only used it in the most urgent situations, like…a new toy, and that day wasn’t anything special so I didn’t think it was worth it. So I was like don’t do it, and they said, okay, we won’t. So I went inside and asked my mom and was like Hey mommmm, do you think I could go up to Frankie’s for a little bit and she said…“Sure,” and I was like !!!!! but I couldn’t do that so I was like 0_0, and kinda slowly backed out the door and as soon as I got outside I ran like crazy to Frankie and Marcial like OH MY GOSH, YOU GUYS, YOU WONT BELIEVE....and as soon as I got over the hill I see them sittin there…
“I hope he can I hope he can I hope he can I hope he can I hope he can…”
It worked every time
I remember when they moved. I remember thinking how strange it was that families would just “move.” It made me happy to know that my family would never do that. I knew we weren’t like them. We would always live in that house that we moved out of a year later. I didn’t know. I didn’t know I would never see Franky and Marcial ever again. I didn’t know what we had, that we were magicians. I didn’t know that power would weaken like the bite of guilt hidden behind each curse word, or what “innocence” even was.
July 6, 2012
Like Water, Like Son
This is a poem that I recently performed at a charity event raising money for an orphanage in North-Western Thailand. The story behind the poem can be found here. The video is of the actual performance, it's not without its flaws, there are a handful of tiny changes I would make if I could do it again, but overall I'm pretty happy with it, so check it out, lemme know what you think! And the words are down below. PEACE!
We have to be more careful
with this power that we wield
over every living child
whose fate has not been sealed
whose life still has a purpose
that has yet to be revealed
We have to warn them of the darkest parts
and be their human shields
teach them all about the world
and the greed that it instills
show them there’s two sides to life
and each and every thrill
Cuz kids are like cups
just waiting to be filled
you should know that every drop
you put in is gonna build
a bridge to this feeling
a link to some sensation
in no time they will be reeling
between peace and titillation
with no idea that life is stealing
the most Pristine Natural Formation…
The Mind of an Innocent Being
…free from fear’s indoctrination
Free from that persistent feeling
that we live in suffocation
free to feel their own souls breathing
without the heat of condemnation
free to know the healing powers
of their childish elation
Free to Be a Human Being…
before the bullshit’s saturation
before the mind hits maturation
and they don’t believe in anything
besides success and masturbation
at the expense of everything
…the world’s bastardization
We don’t talk to children enough
we still don’t talk to our kids about love or sex
we don’t talk to our teens about rape
we don’t talk to our sons about arrogance
we don’t talk to our daughters about strength
like we don’t want them to know how strong they could be
we hardly ever explain why we do what we do
like they don’t need to know…like we don’t even know
like there’s no meaning in any of it
Our denial
Our fear-laden inability to be honest with ourselves stops us
from being honest with them
about the most important things
our weaknesses throughout life
our struggle within
our regrets
and all those fears
that we couldn’t even put into words until our early twenties
…and so the weaknesses of the father are visited upon the son
over and over again
I see it all the time
I know a father who has never acknowledged the scars on his own daughter’s wrists
I know a father who has never spoken the word love to any of his children
I know a mother who has never talked to her son about why he ran away from home
…like it never happened, even though it changed everything
How can we protect em if we lie to ourselves
How can we prepare them for reality, when we can’t even face it
We have to be more honest with them
about what we believe and what we’ve learned
and what we have no fucking clue about
before they miss the point of all of this
so caught up in what they’re “supposed to do”
and they think what they have on the outside
is more important than what’s in here
Let’s be a little more aware
of this cycle that exists
of the echoes it puts out
and the way that it can twist
every thing we never say
into tiny catalysts
that cause our kids
to think it’s normal
to solve problems with their fists
to live a life that’s nothing more
than a number on a list
and distrust every single difference
til no one can coexist
We’re like water,
WE’RE LIKE WATER
you can treat this like a fact
because whatever you put in
I promise you will get it back
we’re like water, we’re like water
and kids are the clearest springs
and whatever WE put in them
is what the future brings
July 5, 2012
Montecristo Poem Preface
So last night was pretty awesome. If I were a pornstar and saying that, you'd know this blog post would be some damn good reading material, but since I am just "The Poet," you are more than welcome to skip down to the bottom and click on the link to take you to THE POEM. This is just for me and my friends back home who don't know what the hell I'm doin. And anyone else who might be curious. But yes, last night, AWESOME. Times like...TWENTY I would say.
Another opportunity to perform some performance poetry at BED FREAKIN SUPPERCLUB befell upon me. For those of you that don't know, Bed Supperclub is this really awesome club/venue in this city. The word "Premier" definitely comes to mind. And I got to take the mic and sling some verse like it ain't no thang, even though it TOTALLY Is a "Thang." Like a really awesome thing! And I went HARD too. Last time was all jokes and boobies, this time I was grabbin people by the ears a bit. I say a bit cuz I can definitely drop more serious verse than this, but for a lot of these people never seein me before, this was probably pretty heavy. I'm pretty sure Bed is a stranger to slam poetry, but I am doing my best to acquaint it VERY well :)). And I did it allllright! Couple little mistakes in there, but...no biggie. The people were very gracious and receptive. I was kinda nervous, I think it gets a little easier every time, so the nerves didn't entirely get to me, but fuck...it was a cool little crowd of people and I was in the dead center of it all and the first one to get their attention! Phew, what an experience! It lit me up.
Anyway, this opportunity I think was directly related to the Breast Cancer event, cuz it was after that that the man behind last night talked to me about doin somethin for his event (Montecristo). I was like HOLLLAAAA! Especially cuz it's a cause/charity that I was well familiar with since another friend put together a fundraiser for it (Change for Siam) at the beginning of the year and clued us all in. The foundation is called Future Light and it's basically one orphanage housing about 40 kids/refugees near the Thai-Burmese border. And this whole thing was set up a few years ago by a then 25 year-old woman whom we shall call J. Lo. Because that's her name. Okay, her name is Jennifer Lo, but...same difference! And WAY cooler. Despite not having all the latin flavor/booty we've come to associate with that name. But since she's helpin orphans n' all, we'll let her roll with it. ;)
So yeah, one of the guys behind Bed Supper (Junior) has been involved in the foundation, wanted to do his fair share, and put together a pretty damn cool event to raise money and goods for the kids. He asked me to write something for it, I said I'd be happy to, and from that moment knew what I wanted to do, cuz I already had this little nugget (about 5 lines) about kids, just sittin in my notes, waitin for me to manifest the rest of it and make it whole. (Bet you can't guess which fives lines it was :p) Once he told me the deal, I got all excited, pulled out the chunk and started willing it to grow. It happened pretty easily. Finished it about a week ago, plenty of time to practice it and get it down, and last night I opened the event with it. And this time I was even smart enough to bring my own video camera and have someone film it for me. Wooflippinhoo!
And like I said, it went well. I probably could've done it little better (just bein honest), but nobody expects me to be perfect but me, so...it's all good! Thanks to everybody who was there last night, thanks again to Junior and Jen for...lots of things, so I guess I'll just say for being awesome (awwwww, that's nice ;). I would say thanks to ALL my friends who came but only like one of you did! Lol, smh, I mean, I didn't invite many, but still...no points for you :p. But yeah, thanks for readin, and bein there "in spirit." *eye roll* ;) (Don't worry people who don't know me, I'm totally allowed to give my friends shit, we're cool like that. :D)
Hey, guess what, I'm gonna end this differently! This poem is pretty crazy. In terms of poetry, it's very liberal (#nopolitico) and crazy in its structure. Basically it's another one of my Frankenstein's Monsters of a poem, just somethin I threw together with complete freedom but felt fit together and was able to bring to life. Throughout the process of writing it (which maybe someday I'll elaborate upon), there came a handful of pieces that didn't make it in to the actual poem. They just didn't work or didn't flow well, but were still born of the same inspirational stardust. I'm gonna end this blog with those scraps. Why not. I may use em someday, I may not, I never know. But if you read this far, then you might as well get some little tidbits of poetry from "Behind the scenes." (Oh yeah, don't you feel cooler now? You know stuff other people probably don't know. ;) And I say good for you!
As always, thanks for joinin me on this journey, friends and neighbors. This year has been the best year of my life. This is just one more reason and one more piece of proof showing that. I hope you can see it, cuz it's pretty frickin cool where I'm sitting.
...dreams are coming true.
Cheers!
but you would never know it
so many imaginary lines
on the surface and far below it
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
we have to teach them better
and show them there’s a better way
mind body, heart and soul
should have an equal say
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...and every bomb gives birth to 20 terrorists
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
as it is we’ve given most the heart to the women
and most the body to men
and now they’re both fighting over the mind
while the soul sits off to the side, watching
goin “what the fuck is happening?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We protect them from the wrong things
when we “protect” them from those truths
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
every kid that learns is much less likely
to kill or to be killed
June 11, 2012
Home is What We Make of It
It's good to finally post this poem. It's been a soldier, and it's that much closer to a well deserved retirement. This has been my Go-To poem for years whenever I need to introduce somebody to "Performance Poetry." It WORKS! It has all the ingredients of a good performance poem. Not large portions of those ingredients, mind you, but enough dashes to give people a taste of what this art is and can be.
It's got a simple rhyme scheme which helps keep the listener's attention. It's got a character, since I perform it as a gay flight attendant. Gay in the old sense of the word, of course ;). It's got a nice variety of images. It's simple but complex since it is satirical. And that satire paves the way to humor, which is one of the most important ingredients for a "Well-Rounded" performance piece. Because of the humor, this piece is guaranteed to elicit an audible response from the crowd in the MIDDLE of the poem. THAT'S important. If you can't make a crowd laugh, gasp, moan or cry, then you're not doin it right. This poem does that almost every time. It's short, pointed, and to the point. Just like Jon Stewart. :D
I guess what is most notable about this poem is its age. It's old! I wrote March 2nd of 2000, which puts me just shy of 19, my first year of college. 12 years old and it STILL works. That's awesome. I haven't changed a thing, and when people find out how old it is, they're like, "Hmph, you coulda wrote it yesterday, still true." And I'm like, "I know, right!" Nothin's changed folks, just more people are aware of it.
It's also worth noting that that means I didn't write it as a performance poem. I didn't know what performance poetry/slam poetry was at that point in time. But once I did learn about it a couple years later, I went back and a few pieces, like this one, just seemed to lend themselves to it naturally. And the true potential of the poem was born. Pretty cool. And now look at it, it's been with me a long time. And I even started using it in class to teach what satire is as part of my introduction to Animal Farm. Which coincidentally is right now! The only time I do anything with my poetry in class is performing THIS poem, as I just did twice last week and once more tomorrow. But that's not why I'm posting it now. I'm postin it now cuz I also performed it at a gig last week, as part of the Dine in the Dark WORLD ENVIRONMENT DAY on June 5th. Which is really awesome.
I got the call to serve up some poetry and I knew just the piece. This piece. I love it, it's so useful. I'm glad my teenage self was cool enough to write it. I never ever would've imagined the life this poem has lived.
Anyway, I just thought it was high time I put it on the internet. I'm sure I probably put it up on my old blog back in the myspace days, but that was many years ago. And I haven't wanted to ruin it for any of you by letting you read it first, but now I've about performed it as much as I can. It's a got a couple more public events left in it's Bangkok life, but eventually I'll just save it for private events or friendly demonstrations. I hate making people hear my poems more than once or twice. Really. It's probably a stupid hate to have for this line of art, but...I know they're never gonna have the same punch after that. And if they don't make you feel anything thennnnnn what's the point?
At some point I should do a video for this and get it up on youtube too. I'm gettin a little bored of the one take videos in my room but...maybe one more for old times' sake. ;)
Enjoy the poem. Remember to imagine me reading it like a VERY gay flight attendant. But in the old sense of the word.
Cheers!
Welcome to the world Where We Don't Care
If you're just passing through, then please don't stare
You might provoke the natives and make them self-conscious
and they really don't like that, so please, be cautious
If you're planning to visit, then we welcome your presence
Understand that the pollution and violence is all part of the essence
We do everything we can to make it completely carefree
And making sure you never have to think is part of that guarantee
If you're planning to stay, well then you came to the right place
The more the merrier as we all say, and don't you worry about space
If push comes to shove we'll just knock down some more trees
then you can jump on the freeways and go anywhere you please
We can mass-produce anything to accommodate your every need
and we have so much technology, you don't even have to be able to read
You can live whatever life you want through a cellular phone
and if you ever become homeless, we promise, you won't be alone
Here, the world truly is your apple, so don't be afraid to bite
And don't let yourself be discouraged by someone else's plight
They will have their day, so let this one be yours
and enjoy the world from war divided continents to oil-slick ocean shores
It's all about boiling yourself down to your senses
only then can you cast aside your pretenses
That's when you'll feel that global energy in the air
and you'll know you're in the world Where We Don't Care
The Dine in the Dark Poem
Benjamin, one of the owners, knows I write about such things as world affairs --environmental, social, and otherwise -- and invited me to contribute to the night. I was happy to accept, of course; this topic is much more my element than the last time, and it had been a while since I last worked with them.
Well, in addition to doing an environmentally friendly poem (which I will post in another blog HERE), they asked me to do this poem which I wrote for them a couple months ago now. It is THE Dine in the Dark poem! Possibly the ONLY ONE OF ITS KIND!! Lol. It was just somethin fun I decided to TRY and do after experiencing Dine in the Dark myself. I thought the experience was hella unique and I dig the social awareness aspects of it, so I thought I would try and capture all that in a poem, one that they would hopefully like and be able to USE. Contribute to the cause. At the time I thought it would turn out to just be a cheesy poem that wouldn't hold much water outside of this context, and I was okay with that, just thought it would be cool to do so I DID. But it turned out or turned into a pretty nice poem. Much to my own surprise. And everybody seems to like it, so...yay for me! ;)
I posted it on their facebook page once I finished it and designed it to look all snazzy and cool, which is not something I'm really good at, but I guess I'll...I'm not sure what I'll do. I thought I'd post that version of it here, but blogspot kind of shrinks it and it's hard to read, so...I think I'll just post both, text and picture, so you can see what I mean AND read it with ease. :)
OH, so I performed this for the first time at the restaurant to a roomful of people (30-40) IN THE DARK, and it went down really well! It was fun, it was cool, I was happy. The people seemed to really click with it, they got the jokes, so the piece definitely works. And I'm already lookin forward to do it again the next time they call me in. Here it is. If you haven't seen it, lemme know what you think. And if you haven't dined in the dark yet, I suggest you get on that too! ;)
Follow a man with four senses as he turns you left and right
Consider what life would be like if you really had no sight
Let go of your old fears of what is hiding in the night
Step forward, take your seat, feel what is in front of you
Sit in anticipation and give welcome to the new
Every movement you make is a thought you follow through
and soon you’ll cut your food up just like you did when you were two
You have made a reservation to turn off your reservations
and open up your senses to a sense of exploration
Taste and smell will lead the way on this rarest of occasions
as your mouth secretly indulges in the rush of information
Cease your eyes from searching for the momentary spark
Take comfort in your company and the humorous remarks
Even if the mess you made is the only way you leave your mark
that is just another part & joy of Dining in the Dark
Enjoy this memorable dinner until the final savory bite
New perspectives on old things often give us new insights
so notice when you walk out you'll be feeling VERY bright
Tonight is the night on which the blind will lead the blind to light
.
May 11, 2012
Ode to Perseverance
Enjoy peeps!
May 1, 2012
Intersection
I went to the street side
before getting into the car
to gather my bearings
which had been turned around
in this part of Portland,
like the bookshops were magnets
toying with my sense of direction.
I looked down the long, dipping road
looking for recognition, a mountain, a sign
to tell me which way was right again.
While stretching my eyes
and insteps out as far as I could,
a voice came to me from nowhere
and said “oh good, you’re crossing the road too.”
I wasn’t. For a second
I almost argued with the air,
a misguided ghost.
I wasn’t going to cross the street,
I thought.
But I knew better than to beg
to differ with the universe,
to tell it I was not what I was
like I knew better.
Behind me I found an old woman
leaning into and peering down
the somewhat busy street
(like it was a manhole, open and ominous)
before she looked to me and smiled.
As we crossed side by side
she told me how she was struck by a car once
while crossing a street and how it drove
a nervous streak into her legs
that she had not been able to shake.
And that’s when it happened.
That’s when it hit me
that I was “here for some reason.”
Although my west still felt oddly north
and I did not know where I was
in relation to the stars, the fates
had appointed me a pinpoint appointment
that I kept
close like a compass
for the rest of my dislocated days.
March 28, 2012
The Whirlpool -- Part 3
You live in a world full.
You live in a world full of isolation.
How can both those statements be true?
They just are.
John Donne said that “No man is an island.” However, if you think bigger…might you notice that every piece of land is an island?
So perhaps what he was trying to say is that no man is land.
Does that make sense?
That no man is like a piece of land? Does that ring as true as what Donne said IF you agree with what he said?
It seems logical.
And if you are following the logic there, and you can see the truth in the idea of no man being separate from ______, then you might want to spend some time thinking, “if man is Not land then….what is he?”
Put some thoughtful time into that metaphor. There are, after all, only so many other elements to choose from. They might offer you an interesting way to look at man.
All that aside, focus now on the current experience of reality; one that seems to be rife with isolation. That doesn’t mean YOU are alone. Certainly not, who would imply such a thing when you have a husband, a wife, significant others, kids, pets, friends and co-workers who give you books to read and music to listen to.
You are not alone. Right?
Then how is it there is still an incredible amount of isolation living in your life. Can you see it? Can you feel it? Would you appreciate it if someone pointed it all out?
Where is the isolation if it is not in your relationships? It is simple really: the isolation is in your mind. It is BUILT Into your relationship with absolutely everything, everything you see no connection to or see no connection between.
In your mind it is as though EVERYTHING around you has its own box. Every thing is boxed up, squared off, and framed in: isolated by a lack of perceived indivisibility.
The world IS indivisible, however, every boxy bit of it. There is a constant flow of relationship, there is a constant stream of cause, there is a never ending line of effects and the energy that invisibly exists between all of these never really changes or stops moving. Despite how often you draw a line where a line can never exist.
You think that all these pieces of life are separated somehow. You think it so much that you have divided the entire world with your thoughts. You think that everything fits into its own little box, affixed with its own little label and you like it that way, you like it that way a lot. You like that everything is distinguishable and clear. If it wasn’t so divided and divisible and clear, then pieces might start to overlap and when things start to overlap, suddenly there are RELATIONSHIPS that you’re not so sure about. Like a white supremacist who refuses to look at his family tree because he suspects—pretty much knows—there’s a nigger in there somewhere. Maybe two!
If the world wasn’t so divisible and clear it would suddenly be a lot harder to hate…….ANYTHING. If the world wasn’t so divisible and clear you would end up with so little to fear, and….what would you do without all that fear? Really. What would you DO without all that fear?
If it wasn’t so divisible and clear, you might inadvertently find yourself associated with and questioning so many things in the world that…you don’t want to think about. Because, after all, your understanding and definition of things is just fine. You got a family, friends, a house, a church, a God, a bible, a job, a car, a dog, a cat, a tv, food on the table and a vacation once a year. What more could you ask for in such a disparate world?
This is the world, your world as you see it. And all those basic pieces you’ve worked so hard to acquire are hardly even related in your mind. Your dog doesn’t have anything to do with that tv. Your friends don’t seem to have anything to do with the food on your table. Each one is in its own little box, unless the connection is OBVIOUS to the 5 senses of course. Hence why it takes some people so long to figure out that the invisible dog dander in the air is having a direct effect on your respiratory system. Not to mention the dust all over the tv.
The air in one room of the house has nothing to do with the air in another. They are as unrelated as the two different colors of paint on the two rooms’ walls. This is how you treat all of life. Even though you know a dog can smell something a mile away. Even though an elephant can smell water (that is underground) from ten miles away. Even though you’ve heard accounts of twins on opposite sides of the world sensing the other’s pain. Even though you’ve heard of more than one pet going crazy or dying the moment its owner passes in another place. Even though women who live together often experience an alignment of their menstruation cycles, like the face of the moon aligning itself with the Earth. Even though you, yourself, have a story of your own, maybe from a half-remembered dream, much like this.
For you, that is all neither here nor there. To you, these are all anomalies in a system that makes perfect sense. For you, these are “mysterious” exceptions to the rule. The unwritten rule that states, “I am only connected to what I see myself connected to AND, regardless of even that, what I AM stops at the tip of my finger.”
Never underestimate the power of denial. Never underestimate the power of disbelief.
The double-edged sword of belief/disbelief has severed, cut up and divided more of this world than any other ability. More than the ability to start a war. More than the ability to stone a woman to death with the sharpest stones. More than all the lies and half-truths and broken marriages combined. It has the power to split giant, old churches right down the aisle!
If the ultimate goal for the globe is unity, then this dichotomy is dichotomously the greatest ally and the greatest threat. If only there were some way around it…
If only there were a way to get you to see more, see bigger, elevate your point of view just like you did at the beginning to see that every piece of land is in fact an island. If you do not expand your point of view, how do you ever hope to understand or expand your relationship with the world around you? Until then, you will continue to think in small, boxed up terms, in very straight lines while concentric circles dance all around your imprisoned perception.
No wonder you are so easy to overwhelm, you must feel dizzy nearly all the time, you must feel like you are on the verge of vertigo every moment something sudden happens. You are completely out of rhythm with the regular flow of life. You are at odds with it. You are blind to the fact that everything constantly flows back into itself. Like it or not. As if seasons were a symbol for all that is on this planet. You haven’t figured out through experience that time does not exist and that energy is, in fact, overabundant.
You think you have to make a choice, you think that you have to make big sacrifices, that you can’t possibly have or do everything that you want. Cake or death. Cake or life. Cake. Icing. Crumbs. Death.
This point of view is understandable. You think everything you do is separate and you must allot this amount of time to this or ELSE. And you must allot some other amount of time to that OR ELSE as well. So many choices! So many choices consciously made that do not need to be scrutinized at all. So much thinking that gets processed and colored by isolation and tainted by your fears. It is possible that 80% of the choices you make you make out of fear. Thankfully, that 20% you make out of love are mixed right in, and due to the potency of these choices, they are the only thing keeping this failed system afloat.
“Just another day in the life, livin the way of the knife, can’t get away from the strife cuz everyday is a fight. Like a buffet where every bite is full of dismay and plight. I pray for light, but everyday is dark as night, without a spark of hope in sight, the rope’s too tight and I choke more the more I fight...”
That is how you see and speak about things on most days, isn’t it? This is why you believe you have to make a choice between inseparable things, like raising your children today and actively creating the future world. And yet you guard this choice like a den mother, as if the two “choices” are not part of the same circle. As if the future is not being determined by every single decision you make today. As if everything you do in one will not flow directly into the other, without any EFFORT at all. As if helping me help the world or help YOURSELF is very selfish of you, and will never be anything but.
Such a limited point of view….no wonder why you worry so much. No wonder why you choose fear so many times out of ten. No wonder why.
It’s all on you, huh? Yeah, it’s all on you here on planet Dirt. There’s just nothin else workin for you here, is there? It’s amazing the whole place doesn’t implode, doesn’t dis-integrate—considering the lack of belief you put into everything it tries to teach you and every carefully woven olive branch it offers.
Each of us has the power of a lion, and yet we live with the meekness of blind mice.
We live in a world full.
We live in a world full of lions who have forgotten they are kings.
We live in a world full of lions all part of the same pride.
And so you live in a world full of fear and isolation, in which every other breath bespeaks desolation. And begets it in the next exhale.
In truth, you live in a whirlpool. You are but one of 7 billion circular drops being slowly pulled into a few million smooth curves and some of you are fighting this process every single ripple of the way.
You are all bending in the same arc, in various perfectly turning circles, all moving in the same direction, all getting closer to the point of center. The center. The center where there is nothing but unity, where you move so fast everything seems to be standing still—long enough for each piece to tell you the tale of its existence and, by doing so, bring you more peace through a grander vision of Purpose in place.
The planet you live on is a whirlpool. And like a whirlpool there is sense in every element of its design. It is not a planet born of chaos, slowly rising up. It is, instead, made up of so many moving circles. It is a planet at one point of several overlapping circles. Circles that are all moving together in the same direction. Like a moon to a planet, like a planet to a solar system, like a solar system to a galaxy, like a galaxy to a…..
Do you really think that these exact parallels, these….living echoes, mean NOTHING to US? That we are somehow exempt? Even though we are in the middle of it all. Do you think these shapes have nothing to tell us even though they get repeated everywhere we look? Do you really think there is an END to their repetitions in EITHER direction? Do you really think that they are all NOT connected?
And if you do….why? Why do you see such chaos? An endless series of coincidences?
Is it because you believe everything that cannot speak was not given a story to tell?
A story that rings of truth?
If the wild animals of this planet could speak, do you think they would see chaos and destruction in what they do? In how they live? Or would they see order and balance? Maybe even symmetry? Would they see and sense sense and a constant given, a given constant, a constant give and take that seems to WORK just fine in seeming perpetual motion?
If the Earth could speak, and give its opinion on every species that exists….what do you think it would say about us? What do you think it would see in how we live?
Might it say: “Man is the only creature that consumes without producing.” Might it ask us why “man serves the interest of no creature except himself?”
Might it even tell us a story of how everything was balanced in harmony until one species came into power and from that point on there has been constant disarray? And instead of blaming themselves for all the disorder they see and experience all around them (the disorder they themselves set in motion), instead of blaming themselves EVERYDAY, this species worships the power and projects the fault onto ANYTHING it can. Women, the past, sinners, snakes, the moderates, the conservatives, lack of this, too much of that, evil, human nature, and even the odd God.
Instead of blaming themselves everyday and seeing their “power” for what it really is, they simply create stories set in the past to blame their PAST selves. In a past where they have no power, as far as they are now concerned. A story of absolution for man walking the planet today, so that he or she can say, “That’s just how it is and how it’s always been, not much I can do about that really, but it’s not like I’m all that bad anyway.” Then he or she wipes his or her oily hands, as if that could clean them forever, and then goes on the interwoven way in colorblind ignorance.
This is the story being told all around us, but we have told ourselves to not believe it. We have told ourselves that our one story makes more sense than the billion being told for ages and still today. Doubt once gave rise to fear and fear begat the disillusioned, who came to believe in this illusion. But the greatest stories of all are always true stories, so it makes sense that the simplest, truest story of all, would also be the most fantastic, ergo—the hardest to believe.
The world is a beautiful whirlpool and it has been spinning and spinning and spinning for millions of years. And it is constantly working towards one thing: unity in balance. The sooner you see that, the sooner your life will start working for you all the time, instead of against you. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you will be able to enjoy every second of the ride, and an opportunity will never again feel like a burden. And every choice you make will never bring pain without also bringing the healing light of joy.
You like that everything is so “divisible and clear,” or at least you think that makes things clear: “SO…Definable!” The irony is…it is all these divisions that are confusing the hell out of you. Literally. And the longer we live, the more divisions we seem to make, and the more confused and fearful we become. When, at what point, do we start seeing the connections and start putting things back together again?
This is my question.
Think on it. It seems as though that is all some of you are able to do for now. Until you stop telling the universe everything you can’t do, and start remembering all you already have.