Detach

Namaste,

They needed masks.

They needed to understand the underlying unconscious animist mysteries inside their masks of death. They confronted the realm of spirit. They bought masks in open air markets on their pilgrimage, masks signifying the dignity of their Being, thwarting demons, Being demons and ghosts dancing in light. 

It was all light in their shamanistic interior landscape. They learned to let go of the ego, detach from outcomes, eliminate the need to control, trust their spirit energies and remain light about it.

Inside light with slow fingers and long thin ivory nails they turned clay into pots. Spinning circles danced turning on a Wheel of Time.

They finished throwing them, used them for tribal ceremonies and smashed delicate clay pots to earth. They exploded into air creating volcanic ash coating everything in a fine dust.

Metta.

short

Greetings,

A foreign teacher visited a Khmer classroom. 300 local students study English, Japanese and Korean from 5-7 p.m. Monday through Friday.

A female Khmer teacher is writing Korean script on the board. There are three students. The visitor sits at the back of the room. A high school girl turns around asking in fluent English, Are you a teacher?

No, I am a student.

What do you study?

I study life.

Is it a short course?

Yes, it is.

Metta.

 =

Gadget man to the rescue!

Greetings,

Well before human fingers painted with blood, animal fat and ash on French and Spanish cave walls, and scratched images and dreams on sacred Aborigine sites; and well before humans in Mesopotamia etched Sumarian symbols on wet clay using sharp reeds and animal skins and dried parchment; and well before Gutenberg invented the printing press and well before paper, pencil, pen, illuminated vellum manuscripts, canvas and diverse materials there was THE GADGET!

Early humans were busy hunting and gathering. Survival was the game.  

To connect or not to connect, that is the question. Let's do the numbers. Text me baby. 140 characters dance.

Here is an image of a calculating machine gadget morphing into a super human computer capable of crunching millions of numbers, data and esoteric trivia. In REAL TIME.

...A portion of the brain acts as a control tower, helping a person focus and set priorities. More primitive parts of the brain, like those that process sight and sound, demand that it pay attention to new information, bombarding the control tower when they are stimulated...

In 2008, people consumed three times as much information each day as they did in 1960. And they are constantly shifting their attention. Computer users at work change windows or check e-mail or other programs nearly 37 times an hour, new research shows. Read the small print.

  Hooked on Gadgets...

Save my life! Save my marriage! Save me from electricity! Give me ash, blood, paper. Give me real time.

Give me a Cambodian man pedaling laboring a one gear gadget bike pulling a cart loaded with bags of cement. Give me two men pulling a cart loaded with discarded cardboard. One man squeezes an orange plastic toy - SQUEEK, SQUEEK telling residents to bring out their paper products. The plastic toy is his 21st Century gadget. 

Give me a man ringing a bell. Give me 221 seconds inside a time tunnel to cement a deal before I have a heart attack from the stress. My gadget addiction is killing me. Before we have sex my wife and mistress make me wear a gadget. This gadget nullifies the sensation of direct and immediate experience.

I'm a gadget. A living breathing, laughing gadget. I have a gadget son and a gadget daughter. They are artificial intelligence personified.

I have the precision of an umbrella and sewing machine on an operating table. 

Metta.

Asia's long now.

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.

No, thank you

Greetings,

How and why it happened to briefly consider teaching a Speaking-Listening class at a Kampot university. It's existed for three years. 700 students. 

I met a man at lunch. He called his friend the director. I pedaled over at 1430 to meet him. The impatient head of English jumped in, "Yes. We will hire you."

They needed a native speaker for six hours on Saturday and three hours on Sunday once a month. Students also take core, writing, reading and culture classes with local teachers. 

"Do you have books for the class?"

"No. In Cambodia teachers provide the materials."

"I see. What levels?"

"Pre-intermediate to intermediate." The teacher took me to a class of first year foundation students. It reminded me of teaching at the Chinese university. Hopeful, bored, alert, expectant faces. It was a beginning. Introductions, eliciting questions. Exposure to a new tongue with clarity and humor. Simple.

After class I gave the teacher some ideas for textbooks; New Interchange, Cutting Edge, Let's Go.

"Can you find them in Phnom Penh?"
"You should go to Phnom Penh and find them," he said.

I laughed. "That's not my job. My job is to teach. I need materials. The students need books. I will come back next week and see what you found."

Yesterday I returned to see him. "Did you find books for the class?" He showed me a 1-2-3 Listening book with CDs.

"Ok. It's a start. Where are the student textbooks for speaking and listening?"
"I couldn't find them Phnom Penh."
"Why?"
"Not available. We don't have the money."
"I see."

I kept it simple. "I am a professional teacher. I need materials. Students need books. Students are my customers. I'm afraid this isn't going to meet the needs of the students. I understand the nature of education here. How it works. I appreciate you and the director offering me the opportunity. However, I won't be teaching here."

"What! You're not going to teach the class?"

"That's right. Thank you for the opportunity. Please give my regards to the director. Good-bye."

I rode my bike to the river. The situation had offered students and I the chance to learn, play and explore together. Reality check. The system was ineffective. I assembled my small frustration, sadness and disappointment into a collective breath and let it go. It floated away, on, over, around and through a wide blue river. So it goes.

Metta.