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Entries in dance (85)

Tuesday
Jul052011

empty ears

Namaste,

A Spanish kid said, “I’m setting the scene where place is a developing character and enhancing the tone of the tale. Anyway, while he was enjoying fresh mountain air so inherently peaceful, calm and a blessing, he noticed, way up in the high sky multiple black specks.

"He immediately recognized a family of Egyptian vultures and eagles who lived in the national park. They were practicing early morning flight on excellent thermal drafts.

"One of the largest nesting colonies of tawny vultures in Europe. While living and hiking in the region he’d seen several species: the golden eagle, Hieraetus fasciatus, Aquila heliaca, Hieratus pennatus, and Circaetus gallicus. Goshawk and the Egyptian vulture also inhabited the Sierras.

“What did he do? How did he see them clearly?”

“He got his 7x20 binoculars and focused on the predators. Amazing. There were six mature ones and young ones slowly circling on drafts.”

“Were they rough drafts?”

“Probably,” said the kid, laughing, "It got them started. Cutting creates real honest and true writing.”

“So, I’ve heard. But you can’t believe everything you hear.”

“Easy to say and hard to do as they say in China.”

“Speaking of China in Mandarin, you can get your ears cleaned there.”

“What did you say?"

“Now it happened that at that moment in the empty Chinese opera one afternoon in Chengdu, you sit down in a wicker chair and give the girl in a blue uniform 10Y or slightly more than a buck. A group of Chinese men in wicker chairs drinking tea stare and laugh at you. Everyone stares at you in China because it's a human zoo and you are an exotic humanoid species of endless speculation.

“Look at the funny foreigner! He’s going to get his ears cleaned. Boy is he in for a surprise!”

“You sit back and close your eyes. She has all the tools; long steel wires, cotton swabs, some ointment, a microscopic spoon on a post and a pair of stainless steel tongs.

“She probes your right ear with the spoon and digs out hard brown wax. She flicks it on the ground where it becomes part of Ear Wax Mountain, a new wonder of the World. She swabs and cleans out your ear with a small cotton ball on a thin wire. While this is buried in your ear she taps the tongs creating a vibrating frequency.

"She touches the steel rod in your ear and you hear the WHIRLING! BUZZ! BUZZ! as 1,000 bees and cicadas invade your consciousness with a deafening crescendo. She has opened your aural chambers big time! taps the tongs again, you receive the echo chamber canyon of sound, the WHIRLING BUZZ like sandpaper being rasped against old fibers of skin or yes, the fast centrifugal centrifuge of heartbeat nuclear reactors, roaring rivers inside a galaxy of weightless streams. BUZZ!

“She eases it out, massages your temples, your eyes are closed, dreaming you are in a Chinese opera playing the role of an old dramatic hero dying at his post after proclaiming his undying love for family and harmonious social order and stability in the country.

“She attacks and cleans the other ear and the vibrations take you away. BUZZ, BUZZ, BUZZ! She caresses your ears, massages your temples and scalp and when she finishes you no longer have a hearing problem. It’s all in the listening. You’ve been buzzed back to clarity.”

“Everything that goes in the ear comes out as language. It becomes a tool for emotion and expression.”

Metta.

 

 

Friday
Jul012011

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.

Thursday
Jun302011

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.

Sunday
May012011

rain dance

white clouds dance
inside, around, with
mother mountains
singing
om mani padmi om
rain voices 
consider ethereal 
neurotic human concerns
hard steady tears
wash feathers
lake mirror stars
breathe clouds
stillness

 

Thursday
Mar242011

Mandala

Namaste,

An old caretaker man lies on his back inside an erotic temple with 24 carved images of playful sexual pleasure. He welcomes devotees covered in their piety, devotion, shadows, offering flowers, oil flame light, petals, incense, foot worn stone paths. Interiors.

Ring a bell, many bells, fingerprints wear down stone. Human gestures vibrating bells across a valley.

Endless brick factories fill the Sudal valley. Humans living in brick shacks, using water, clay, wooden forms, creating gray bricks. Sand, dust, hand labor, coal fired smokestacks, piles of coal being crushed, hauled on backs to fire. Fire gray red. The scope and density of men, women and children pouring their lives into their daily effort.

This massive element of people surviving. You walk on streets made of bricks, seeing brick homes rising to blue sky. Brick by brick. 

A mandala. Centering the universe with non-attachment.

The center that I cannot find is known to my unconscious mind. I have no reason to despair because I am already there, sings a Nepalese child.

Gallery.

Metta.