Detach

Namaste,

They needed masks.

They needed to understand the underlying unconscious animist mysteries inside their masks of death. They confronted the realm of spirit. They bought masks in open air markets on their pilgrimage, masks signifying the dignity of their Being, thwarting demons, Being demons and ghosts dancing in light. 

It was all light in their shamanistic interior landscape. They learned to let go of the ego, detach from outcomes, eliminate the need to control, trust their spirit energies and remain light about it.

Inside light with slow fingers and long thin ivory nails they turned clay into pots. Spinning circles danced turning on a Wheel of Time.

They finished throwing them, used them for tribal ceremonies and smashed delicate clay pots to earth. They exploded into air creating volcanic ash coating everything in a fine dust.

Metta.

June danced

Namaste,

june said fare-thee-well o little
one dancing inside a red mask
celebrating innocent language tongues
flapping in himalayan winds

waving her sword of knowledge
cutting through ignorance
children scatter laughing
adults ran crying

Metta.

practice smiling

Namaste,

act of writing
touches minute pressure
dances on clean white virgin parchment

distracted clear focused voices
inside a seed of consciousness
bridging knowledge and imagination
between two crutches
feeling pressure under arms
hands on handles
support lightness

someone eases my voice
a reading one, a listening one, a writing one
glowing ink
chiseling paper

an arrow of impatience 
channels beauty's awkward shyness
this seed of day
blind sensations 
missing limbs speak their eternal loss

Metta.

Metro Woman

Namaste,

He saw her through a window when the metro pulled in.

Alone and cold, she waited for the green metro door to open.

It was late. She wore a thin black sweater and long gray skirt.

She was slight...olive pale skin, black hair pulled back, around 45. 

She limped into the car dragging her right foot. Her left foot was normal. Her right foot looked like a case of elephantiasis. She sat twenty feet away. 

She bent over and slowly raised her skirt from around her ankles. The burned and bloody skin damage ran three inches across and ten inches high. Either first or second degree burns. A layer of skin was exposed, red, lined with white. Bare and exposed. She needed medical attention.

Two men across from her stared and diverted their eyes.

She sat, fingered a phone and grimaced. No tears, just a stoic face. 

The metro rolled through night. It passed a river, a neon bright Everest furniture store, fast food emptiness and an expensive private hospital filled with antiseptics, bandages, lotions and potions and patients with money.

She inspected her ankle, touching an edge of fried skin with a white tissue. Clear cold air sent shivers through her central nervous system shutting down pain receptors. 

Metta.

Cycles

Namaste,

The cycle of existence.

A person creates subjective reality and illusions. People feel pure joy with compassion, gratitude and forgiveness. Your center is clear and unified. No past regrets, no future fears.

The Chinese-Tibetan puppet leaders in Lhasa ordered monks to increase 24/7 patriotic education classes in all monasteries. Re-education through reform, ideology, propaganda and control.

It’s about power and control, ruling through fear and intimidation. The Chinese after looting and destroying monasteries in Tibet and mainland China during the 10-year Cultural Revolution, restricted the number of monks at the three major Lhasa monasteries, Sera, Drepung and Ganden.

They recruited Tibetan monks to live and work as spies and infamous informers. This system proved effective during the Cultural Revolution when family members reported on each other, neighbors and capitalist running dogs. It was a practical peoples campaign of fear and suspicion creating paranoia and ideological control.

Monks and nuns allowed to live and practice who resist or question this form of subtle patriotic education risk imprisonment, torture and death. They well know what has and continues to happen to liberal monks and nuns at the notorious Drapchi prison outside Lhasa.

There are two kinds of suffering, said a girl weaving wool carpets in her yurt on the Tibetan plateau below bare brown mountains. Suffering you run away from and suffering you face.

Metta.