A story from the future.
Create like a God, order like a King, work like a Slave.
It's about impossible situations, ambiguity. - Kafka
Art is used here to mean the accomplishment of knowledge in action.
Sweet rain, humid heat, frangipani scent.
“A dream is an unfulfilled wish,” answered a kid with a Ph.D in psychoanalysis from the Jung Institute.
“What else did he say?”
“He said, ‘There is no royal road to wisdom. To arrive in the future I must journey to the past. To attain the sanity of oneness with the One, I must risk the whirling madness of the possessed. One must confront their shadow or be crushed by it.”
“I like it,” said a seer named Rumi. “What else?”
“Well, here’s a cool thing he said. ‘”I liken the formation of a character to weaving fabric. You know what happens when you make a mistake? The whole pattern is spoiled. You have a choice, you can finish the garment, however it will always be botched and ugly, or you can unravel the weaving back to the first mistake and start again. That’s basically what analysis is about. It’s a tedious job. The patient is scared and hostile. The analyst lends patience, honesty and courage.’”
“Excellent,” yelled kids, “here’s to our being patient patients with courage and authenticity.”
“Speaking of courage, I’m looking for someone who knows reading and writing,” Rose said to the children.
“Oh, I don’t know anything about reading and writing,” a child told Rose. “I thought you said eating and fighting. I know about that.”
“Perfect, let’s go together,” said Rose.
“Do you know any good stories?” a child asked Rose.
“A few. Would you like to hear one?”
“Sure.”
“This is a story about Old Man Coyote.”
“Old Man Coyote stood on the bank of a river with a friend. It was early spring and the river at that point was more than a mile across. After watching the sun set in the west, his friend said, ‘Tell me, Coyote, what is it that transcends everything in creation?’”
“Old Man Coyote pointed at the muddy water in the river and said, ‘When you drink all the water in this stream, then I will tell you.’”
“I’ve already done that,” his friend said. He defiantly crossed his arms over his chest.
“Then I must have already told you!” Old Man Coyote said.
“Very good,” said a child. “Know any more?”
“Ok, one more, then I need to roll along. Lots of children to see today.”
“One bright summer day, Rabbit asked Old Man Coyote, ‘Where is the right path?’”
“The right path is the one that leads into the forest,” replied Old Man Coyote.
“I'm not asking about that one!”
“Well, what path are you asking about?”
“I'm asking about the Path of Knowledge,” said Rabbit.
“Oh,” said Old Man Coyote. “That path! That path is very clear. It is as straight as a bowstring. You can face it without hesitation. But I’m warning you, all who travel along that path trouble only themselves.”
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.
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.
Namaste,
As Joseph Campbell wrote in The Hero With A Thousand Faces, the hero's journey is the space within the heart.
AUM. A - a waking consciousness. U - dream consciousness. M - deep sleep.
The manpower investment training wheels in Nepal is slight to non-existant. Young future immigrants move to rich countries. No manufacturing. Woman manufacture babies for export. Import everything from outside.
A Nepalese man named Thor below a hill station sits in the hot sun. He picks up a medium size stone. He places the stone on a larger stone. He raises his hammer. He smashes the medium size stone into fragments.
He pushes the fragments into a pile. When I have a big pile, he said, smiling, someone will collect them. They will put them on a truck and sell them in India. This is my life.
Teams of starlings wing below fast moving clouds above rolling green hills, farms, rice paddies, snow ranges.
An old woman departed a distant valley. She carries a 40-pound bag of sand on her back up steep ragged slippery slate steps. Step by step. The meshed rope blazes into her forehead. This is my life.
A babbling Chinese tourist walks past the man and woman. This is the best day of my life.
Metta.
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