A husband and wife from India visited C.
They went swimming in a hotel pool at sunrise.
Happy, she sings swims sings swims.
He dives down.
She stands slapping blue water chanting a song measuring his breath below the surface.
Her red sari seals her.
Smiling and laughing she chants.
He stays under a long time.
She skips blue water. Her voice is angelic. Flowing water over the edge.
Her laughter is a happy child.
Burma
As the tropical sun sets on another day on paradise it was, "Wear a small bright star on your forehead experience."
Just to see what children might say with amazement and pure delight.
In class a girl asked, "Why are you wearing a star on your head?" Others asked the same question. Mind you it was a bit unusual.
"I get up early and this morning about 5 a.m. I was up and I went outside in my front yard to admire the beautiful flowers, amazing trees, say hello to Mr. Brown, the frog and see all the amazing stars in the clean black sky. One star in particular was dancing around and saw me way down below. And the star said, 'May I come down and go with you to school to meet kids and adults and have a look around Earth?'"
"Wow! Sure," I said, "that would be fantastic. Come on down and I will take care of you."
"Hmm," said the star. "Well, it sounds like I can trust you, however, I have one request. At the end of the day will you be sure and bring me back with you so when it's dark I can return to my friends and family in the sky?"
"Yes, I will."
"Ok then," said the star. "I will spend the day with you."
The star flew down and rested on my forehead. It was a bright orange and small. Small and powerful. All day long primary and elementary students asked about the star and I shared this story with them.
In the afternoon while walking with a young man he turned and asked, "what happens to the star if you forget to go outside or fall asleep tonight?"
"Good question," I said. "I will be sure and go outside after dark so the star can return home."
Star light, star bright ... shine on
"At 75 I'll have learned something of the pattern of nature, of animals, of plants, of trees, birds, fish and insects. When I am 80 you will see real progress. At 90 I shall have cut my way deeply into the mysteries of life itself. At 100 I shall be a marvelous artist. At 110 everything I create, a dot, a line, will jump to life as never before." - Hokusai (1760-1849) The Great Wave
Funeral to pagoda ...
Haiku waves flow music
Winter seas
Sensation dreams
Birds sing
Passage islands horizon clouds moon
Ink sketch free air
Quality life nature laughter
Impermanence sand castles
Language of water sand patterns
Poem play
Primitive art
Waves say hello to dawn light
Easy coast sand castles
Draw dream day
Smiling Zen
At The Green House Effect a Wish Fairy wears a jade green tooth on a golden chain.
Her brown hair curls at nape.
She looks like a pixie however she is a fairy.
After hearing a visiting wizard say, “This is the first time I've seen someone make a latte with foam," she said, “Make a wish it’s your first time.”
So he did and they talked as the orange sun played with cumulus above the blue horizon of sea green. Everything sparkled, sky, sea, clouds and Wish Fairy.
Barefoot ground soft eyes slow pace
Flow
Dancing stars
“The future is in garbage, I’m telling you. Be a trash collector and find all kinds of cool, interesting stuff people throw away,” said one. “They buy it, use it, forget about it, get bored with it and trash it. I’ll start a recycling center. We can exchange old stuff for new stuff. Like blood.”
“That smells nice,” the garbage collector said to the sage burner.
Yangon, Burma
“Let’s create a book,” said one, “and we’ll be in it. We can create a quest about love & survival. Like ART, adventure, risk and transformation.”
“Hey it’s a great possibility with stories or vignettes for word salad dressing.”
“We need stories, water, shelter, food and love.”
“Stories existed before food and shelter. Stories describe hunting for food and social needs. All stories are about forms of hunger.”
“Love is a blind whore with a mental disease and no sense of humor,” said a shadow.
“Will it be a man-u-script or a woman-u-script?”
“Both. If it ain’t on the page it ain’t on the stage.”
“We are authors looking for characters,” said an Italian kid named Pirandello. “I am a plot looking for a character.”
“When someone dies survivors look for a plot,” said a gravedigger.
Yangon, Burma
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