River

Greetings,

I flow a thick deep brown. Heavy wet season rains rinse my desire. I clean the world of perceptions.

I increase my fish productivity and cause havoc for low lying homes, flooding humans out. They swim in the mainstream. My current is strong. It has no boundaries. Water wears down stone. 

Joy is seeing endless green rice paddies waving for miles in every direction. White cumulus clouds dance in a blue sky. The green penetrates my eyes. Green releases me from the stone cold dead glass and brass cities trembling fear. 

Joy is a boy doing a perfect back flip off a hill into my river. Joy escapes gravity. Joy joins his friends laughing and swimming. His father casts a net as serene shimmering strands arch over water sailing into green. My river renews life.

Orange robed monks reflect my calm surface. Turbulent roaming charges may apply in the curious dimension of laughter's gratitude.

My awareness bliss flow is this transience. You can't swim in the same river twice.

Metta.

Mr. Liu dreams

Greetings,

Inside my solitary confinement cell 300 light years from freedom I was dreaming about fantasy baseball playoff games, international human rights and my wife when the starving destitute guards showed up.

It was dark. The bases were loaded in the top of the 9th.

1.6 million fans were standing, screaming and waving red star flags. It was a full count. The micro-managers in the Forbidden City were tearing their hair out. They'd exhausted their bullpens, bloody fountain pens and bullshit. 

A guard scratched on the iron bars. Let's go, he said, We're moving you out. Orders from the Noble Leadership. It's dynamite. Everyone's afraid for your safety. We need to get you to a safe undisclosed secret location.

They shackled me to Charter 08 and dragged me down a long and winding labyrinth. It smelled like yesterday's pig slop.

A white rabbit carrying a pocket watch ran past us. I'm late, I'm late, for a very impotent date. Farewell cruel world!

They put a bag over my head. I couldn't breathe. They stuffed me into a vehicle. They drove forever and a day. Years later we reached Oslo, Norway. I heard a familiar language.

They stopped, opened the door and threw me out. Don't come back! they screamed.

I hit the bricks. I rolled. I tumbled. A child found me. They removed my hood. I blinked, blinded by clear light. Another child cut off my chains. They led me to a castle. My wife was there. All my friends from human rights organizations, writers, artists and supporters were there.

I was free.

Metta.

Death wish

Greetings,

Speaking of a driving school, educational malaise and general laconic ironic bubonic atomic plagues, here we are. In paradise.

The public's death wish is prevalent, precarious, precocious and precious. You see it, taste it, hear it, smell it and touch it. In other words you feel it. Fear cannot mask, hide, avoid, escape, deter, ignore, deny, lie, or try to fly. It is an integral essential element in the genetic strain, a strained well trained artificial injection of reality.

Paradise is the perfect place to pretend you are a crazy English teacher.

"Feed me," yell the adults and children. "Give me the fish. Push me through the system. I secrete sadness."

"Sorry, you need to learn, understand and comprehend the value of learning how to feed, educate and care for yourself and others in your community."

"Are you a lunatic? For decades, for generations we've had foreigners (NGOs) giving us money, medicine, education, food, condoms, handouts, free stuff.

"There's no way we (the majority) are going to begin accepting responsibility for our country, our people, our lives."

"Have it your way. Here's a free ticket to the new entertainment toys."

"Wow! Thanks."

Metta.

Drive

Greetings,

Welcome to the Famous Cambodian Driving School. (FCDS) Our slogan is Drive Fast, No Fear.

We are here to initiate you into the wild wonderful crazy world of driving. We do not have insurance. We don't believe in wearing seat belts because they are expensive. Do not let these minor details influence your decision to take risks. You will be issued a helmet. Wear it at all times.

Remember: you are in complete Control of a large automobile. It is capable of extraordinary maneuvers. You will have a teacher with you at all times. If they are sleeping it's ok. It's part of their job. 

Ok, let's get down to basics. Cars, especially massive 4-wheel drives, are popular with the rising middle class. A car symbolizes many things: freedom, money, prestige, and power.

As you know there are NO stop sings, traffic blights or silent flashing signals on streets, highways and byways. If you want to achieve big things, like getting where you want to go in a big fat hurry, you must take big risks, especially while operating a car. It's fun and exciting. 

Inside the chanting Buddhist monks at the pagoda you have a gas pedal, brake pedal and horn. The horn is the most important part of the car. It is your way of telling others, if they are awake, you are coming through. You will not be deterred. Your goal is to get through, get by and get going. Hit the horn. Hit the gas. 

Using the brake and singing your intentions is for dummies.

At FCDS we believe practicing on small narrow crowded city streets will introduce you to the fun and excitement of driving. You will negotiate limited space with: thousands of motorcycles, children, women balancing bamboo staves and jumbled baskets of food, orphans, amputees, rolling food carts, bicycles, garbage trucks, tractors, push carts, young teams of boys and girls collecting cardboard, cans, and bottles, fast brown rats disguised as health inspectors and endless processions of chanting monks seeking food, kindness and enlightenment. 

Their enlightenment will be their salvation. The horn is your salvation. 

Tomorrow we will practice on narrow red dusty potholed rural roads. 

Metta.

 

798

Greetings,

Living in a huge art museum we can never escape art. Where does the artificial end and the real begin?

798 is a district in Beijing where artists collaborate and present their vision, similar to the Left Bank or Greenwich Village.

798...

Wu Yuren, an artist who led a public protest over land thieves was recently arrested. “You don’t realize how arcane this system is until you have to deal with it,” Ms. Patterson, his wife said. “It’s a nightmare.”

NYT

Metta.