Language

I’m broiling on the balcony of my tree house. Getting down and dirty after years away from the typewriter.

Covered in world dust and needing oil it’s a small portable dangerous machine. It transforms life energies by weaving adventures. Thread follow needle.

I am a peripatetic traveler and literary outlaw.

Mandalay, Burma

I’m lucky to get it down now and make sense of it later.

I’m a mirror in the mandala of my labyrinth. I am Labrys, from the Greek for a two-headed axe. I write with passion and vision. Short fast and deadly.

My mirror reflects everything. It absorbs desire, anger, ignorance, passion and suffering.

Beauty has no tongue.

I’m confident and self-reliant exploring the human condition. Human energies, frequencies and vibrations reflect languages, lives and attitudes. Dreams dance reflections.

Mirror reveals emotional trust, wisdom, peace and love with truth and compassion.

Meditate on the process of your death.

Suffering is an illusion.

Your mask eats your face.

My mirror is dust free.

Creativity dances in language.

Language is oral, gestures and graphic.

Oral and gestures dissipate.

Symbolic graphic is constant.

This awareness enlightens you after years of wandering. I have been here for 1,000 years. It's easy to imagine what humans are going through.

Everything you know is a lie.

Keep a diamond in your mind.

ART - Adventure, Risk, Transformation

Hsipaw, Burma

Seamstress

Away from ice girl’s eyes wet season life shimmered in green rice paddies. Beauty, creativity, dance, and music described sensations. Sensations rested between an object and a concept. Stimuli engaged disquiet.

How do you manifest this waking dream, asked ice girl.

It’s all process, said Leo. Any explanation is a well dressed mistake.

Across town a seamstress returned to her guesthouse. She splashed water on her face, changed clothes and spit into red roses. She kick started her cycle and went to the market inside a dark labyrinth.

At her corner stall she keyed multiple locks. She stacked numbered wooden shutters. She dragged out her Butterfly sewing machine, ironing board and manikins.

Dummies wore exquisite yellow, purple, blue, white shimmering silks decorated with sparkling faux pas silver stars, moons, and small round reflecting balls.

Her skill designed fabrics for women needing elaborate sartorial refinement for engagements, weddings, and cremations.

She evaluated serious fittings and adjustments. Her sewing universe process was selecting fabric; measurement, ironing backing, a ruler, white chalk to mark pleats, cutting, pushing her machine treadle, pins, threads, trimming edges, hand sewing clasps, shiny connections, and ironing.

Needles inside a slow prism flashed light and shadow as threads danced through cloth in endless conversations. Needles talked about traditional conservative morals and opportunity-value cost.

Thread followed their conversation securing 1,001 small mirrors. Together they measured precise calculations establishing a stop-loss number. All explanations have to end somewhere. Cut.

Ice Girl in Banlung

Genius

Describes the guardian spirit of a person or place, a spirit linked to a person or place and a particular fate.

Genius is your unique singularity, the spirit that follows you from birth to death.

It was your fate, your singular destiny.

It couldn't be taught or identified to you by others.

It could only be recognized by you.

You would know it when you heard it, surrendered to it and it would take you where you were meant to go.

Listening to others obscures its voice.

Luna

Fragrance

Khmer woman 70 in wheelchair

Dances her smile
Extends worn plastic basket

Grateful for .50

Her smile a fragrance

Beauty remembers graciousness
Facial treatment waxes poetic
Edges of bi-lingual tongues express calligraphy

Older now a Khmer woman
Still carries a bathroom weight scale

Around Siem Reap
Step on it
Small money enough for rice

Strangers destined to wait
Confront their deepest fears
At the intersection of Courage & Creativity

The menu is not the meal

Grow Your Soul

Flower Moon

Dancing in
A net of light

Singing red ink
I am learning how to walk
Zen meditation

Khmer woman in wheelchair
Dances her smile
Extends worn plastic basket
Grateful for .50
ageless face
Her smile a fragrance

Beauty remembers gratitude

Facial treatment waxes poetic
Edges of bi-lingual tongues speak calligraphy

Older now a Khmer woman
Still carries a bathroom weight scale
Around Siem Reap

Hoping someone will

Step on it

Exchanging weight data for Real notes

Strangers destined to die
Confront their deepest fears
At the intersection of Courage & Creativity