"I am life. I have lived 10,000 generations.
I have lived millions of years ...
I have possessed many bodies.
All the spirit and mystery and the vital fire & life of me am off and away.
I have not perished and the body is not I."
Matter and consciousness.
Mystery is all.
Create. Live w/o fear, shame or humiliation.
Sewing woman. Thread leads needle.
Courage.
Sewing family in the labyrinth. A singing fool sits down. Sat down. In the center of a labyrinth without a center. He sings. Women smile and laugh. After moments he is invisible.
He laughs one says same same Cambodia.
Laughter language speaks.
You may find yourself in another part of the world.
You may find yourself in a beautiful house with a beautiful wife.
You may ask yourself, how did I get here?
What am I doing here?
How did I grow?
I love the chaos.
Kids recite text from a book at the top of their small powerful voices.
Don't ask them the meaning. Read and repeat.
They know the printed word/symbols only.
The rest is silence.
Silence is the loudest noise in the world.
"They symbolize the alternatives of hope & despair to which mankind is forever subjected."
The need for mystery is greater than the need for an answer. - Keysey
Write. Experience. Imagination. Observation. The wilderness.
A novel: the bear and the dog.
Class and style. Let it run. Let it go w/o perverting it.
I am a shaman. A storyteller feels the wonder.
Chained to the earth to pay for the freedom of eyes.
Here it is all free and easy w/o any sense of past or future.
When the young girl in the java/tea shop began crying all the old men shut up.
Her wails penetrated their distant half-buried, half remembered memories of loss and fear.
Two million grinning Khmer Rouge skulls said here we are.
In 20 words or less communicate: sense of character. feel of a room. action.
After the excellent full body massage he came out singing, "give me your funny papers."
Mindfulness.
The magic IF.
Smiling is a virus.
Risk vs opportunity.
Murakami - themes - boredom, loneliness, loss.
See a situation.
Create characters.
Shame and guilt issues.
Death is the mother of Beauty.
Beauty has no tongue.
She is the mysterious light. She is a light worker. She sings with her light.
She is a fiction. A white butterfly named Psyche wings her face.
A messenger from higher realms of beauty.
She is a scale. On her scale two are two objects. One is a human heart. A feather.
Season of the witch, all the rabbits running in the ditch.
West child - where did I come from?
East child - how did I grow?
Let me make this perfectly clear.
I have never written anything because it is a Poem.
This is a mistake you always make about me,
A dangerous mistake. I promise you
I am not writing this because it is a Poem.
You suspect this is a posture or an act
I am sorry to tell you it is not an act.
You actually think I care if this
Poem gets off the ground or not. Well
I don't care if this poem gets off the ground or not
And neither should you.
All I have ever cared about
And all you should ever care about
Is what happens when you lift your eyes from this page.
Do not think for one minute it is the Poem that matters.
It is not the Poem that matters.
You can shove the Poem.
What matters is what is out there in the large dark
and in the long light,
Breathing.
- Gwendolyn MacEwen
Afterworlds
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