Loom

A character said with a secret JOY you have returned.

Yes, she says, my dream of you is unfolding. She caresses silk threads on her loom of time. Your sensitivity and serenity calms me, he says.

Before dawn. The Mekong river is water. Fog obscures distance. She stands at a window looking for him. He is on the river. His net flies over still deep water. Threads and knots of jungle vine land on the surface. They sink into silence.

She hears the Mekong sing. She returns to the source. Sleep. She dares dreams, aware of voiced whispers in silence. Silence becomes her sense of desire. She follows desire. Gratitude, her awareness, calms her tortured heart. A leaf leaves the tree of life.

Transparent water bowls sing. A purple lotus grows from mud.

She is at her loom. Her pattern begins with purple silk. This is her base. She runs threads through thin lines of balance. Twin bobbins spin out golden threads for new diamonds. Weaving is her meditation. Her voice. It is her heart-mind, hands, fingers and feet.

weave voice

You returned, they exclaimed with a secret JOY.

Yes, she says, my dream of you is unfolding. She caresses silk threads on her loom of time. Your sensitivity and serenity calms me, he says.

It is before dawn. The Mekong river is water. Fog obscures distance. She stands at a window looking for him. He is on the river. His net flies over still deep water. Threads and knots of jungle vine land on the surface. They sink into silence.

She hears the Mekong sing. She returns to the source.

Sleep. She dares dreams, aware of voiced whispers in silence. Silence becomes her sense of desire. She follows desire . Gratitude, her awareness, calms her tortured heart.

A leaf leaves the tree of life.

Transparent water bowls sing. A purple lotus grows from mud.

She is at her loom. Her pattern begins with purple silk. This is her base. She runs threads through thin lines of balance. Twin bobbins spin out golden threads for new diamonds.

Weaving is her meditation.

Her voice. Her heart-mind, hands, fingers, and feet.

 

move like a river

Move like a river, rest like a mirror and respond like an echo.

Create like a God, order like a King and work like a Slave.

Laughter and Orphan and characters are dazzled by the embroidery.

Help others be more human.

Clean ears of years, tears and fears after four months of hearing V road grime.

Clear hearing channels. Auditory clarity.

Silent orange robed monks pass through.

Roll along a mist river before dawn. Silver surface is quiet.

Nails trim voices, blue cotton fabric discusses threads.

A girl with bamboo baskets of sun oranges balances her long walk from a truck near boats as women pray for sustenance in fog light. Her destiny is uphill past rising smoke, villages, cooking fires, warmth, hot noodles, steaming steps in rhythmic fashion she continues...

The road is made by walking.

The void of substance.

Boua Mon - weaver, 32, once eclipsed since we met at her village loom. Absorb her illuminated smile, grace, centered way.

In her absence everything possible or improbable happened. Ghost-self dreamed her into being as Anita butterfly skimmed the joy of exile. A man on his yellow bike waved, smiled, and rode away. Afternoon sun decorated green mountains.

Shuttle music and hospitality with Boua just sitting as she weaves, aligning threads, sharing food, incomprehensible women conversations. Her smile is radiant.

tai dam weaving village

Secret debt

Greetings,

weave me a silk tie to economic terror
corruption, greed, illusions
goldman on sack-cloth bespoke tailor

mr. goldman uses asian foreign workers in the middle eats
to smuggle gold out 
rag and bone merchants chant profit buy low sell high
insider trading cards i buy you buy we buy inflate the price
legalized tender is the night running gold, drugs, weapons, passports, people

all the camels, donkeys, mules running trade routes

money is the enabler
the game is over they told greece
goodbye athens goodbye ottomans goodbye nazis goodbye easy government money goodbye eu(poria)

sell me a white sand island

here comes the money honey

circumvent the corrupt banking industry
so i can file a be spoke suit tailored
by pure fabrication
woven on historical looms

lucky bamboo said i’d find you here
fit to be tied to anything
where spirit is good 
matter is a matter of objective consciousness
spinning on its axis
unraveling threads
into patterns, endless knot 

undertime, overtime, inside time's beauty
sharing information with intelligence agencies

now - yesterday, today, tomorrow
now a days - last decade, this decade, next decade
the long now - 20,000 years
let me introduce myself
married to consumption 
my name is fear
fear of poverty 
an acronym
consolation 
my timid friends say it indicates
Fuck Everything And Runaway 

the bigger the fear the bigger the defense
one does not need a compass in the land of dreams
Face Everything And Recover

the bigger the obstacle the bigger the joy
read ‘operating instructions for plants’
growth flow initiation 
dispense resistance
correct motives, means
patience generosity

inside the people's labyrinth
honor receptive side of warrior nature light

complex adaptive system

tendency for increased complexity
make the wrong decision for the right reason

sublime paradox
it was love & passion that made us suffer
it’s not so much that there is something strange about time
the thing that’s strange is what’s going on inside time  
we will understand how simple the universe is when we recognize how strange it is

fate gives you two choices, the one you should take and the one you take

Metta.