Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Between Verification and Validation

A dizzy reality in its calmest state
is what I currently live.
I sense you
in the air I breathe.

Receptive but not zealously alert I am
for signs that shall come forth.
Might I awaken to an expansion
of mental girth.

All is in the pattern of an infinite wreath.
So, shall this journey hold sips of smooth exhilaration
and the destination
a never-ending ocean of sweet mirth.

Monday, July 26, 2010

A Wall's Rattle

The clickety tocks of a clock,...
I find myself begging them to slow down
as I nudge them to speed up a nice notch.

I ask to see.
I ask to be.
I ask for a vision.
I ask to become.

For a fine vision, kindly drop in my lap
...and my grasp
a palette of certain colors and a layout of fine bristles
and maybe a little sight of heaven's window...

Some will say that is a bit much
to ask of our Sweet Mother
and Divine Father.
If I ask not, what can I utter.

I could always settle for a SLR.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Join me for a jog?

A great weave of deep cobalt blue and a certain pattern of stars heightened my taste for life. There were lines in the sky that were drawn by no human that one night. That sweet countryside spot on Genoa avenue is deeply etched in my memory like an aftertaste of something really delicious three days later. Times come like a still hummingbird when you know you've tasted magic and this is one of them.
A conversation about a closet that held a stalk of potent living zones that come to life through simple forms of ingestion evolved from a rhetorical discussion to a whirlwind onset of vibrant anticipation and eagerness between him, me, and the ever so expanding bubble. As fellow freethinkers and artists of our own mediums, we could not help but adore each other. Only mere, mere inklings told us that we were in for a magical journey that one summer night.

"Then, we should really eat a very healthy dinner to set us off for the most righteous sail." I was climbing a hill of some strategy to reap the purest benefits of that certain cup of tea.
"Yes, it will be good to get a bunch of good vitamins in...our tea is going to be so good..." the grin on his face trailed right off with his thought.
His pointing finger gently carried my eyes to the top of a wooden bread holder where three tin cans stood plastered with gentle imageries of angel fairies whose eyes were gently closed with slightly bowed heads leading to calligraphies of ethereally penetrating messages. Given by the air of his confidence, it was almost as if I could see him reminiscing all the amazing cups of tea that were brewed by his own hand. If there was a designated hat for a tea guru, he would have been wearing it right then. It was one of those vanishing split seconds where you want to swear that you saw a spirit.
Tea was waiting for the moonrise. The upper-level apartment possessed the rich aura of an old social spot. There was a feeling of densely-lived stories that gently bounced off the dark wooden walls. The burgundy red carpet and the brown walls complimented a certain decade. The room in the far back stood apart from the rest of the place. It had hardwood floors that emanated something like wordless wisdom that was begging to be spoken. It was like it could tell me all about Shakespeare, Thoreau, Rumi, Bill Hicks, and even all the thinkable conspiracies through frequencies of vibrations only if I would take a moment to lie down on the bare floor. Instead of doing just that, I froze a few angles into digital memory. There was also a window at the end of that room that seemed to possess its own dialect. It could tell you all about rain in a whole different light than the other windows in that dwelling. Talk about unspoken wisdom. Angles matter.
All duties that needed attention were attended to in a very attentive fashion. Dusk was approaching following a thick wave of gently cooling summer air. As dusk slowly transformed into night, time neared. It was just a matter of brewing that tea with enough honor towards universal love. Timely, an aroma of sweet herbs and sweeter magic filled the air in the corridor of that kitchen with something that moved swiftly like a happily suspenseful tune. In addition to the anticipation of what was to come, there was a soft humming that felt very promising.
*teakettle whistle*
Something like adrenaline kicked in.
*cupboard opens*
Two murkily transparent crimson red teacups stood on the counter between the stovetop and the sink peering up at us. The stillness of those teacups only made them look like they were resisting urges to dance. The whistling teakettle eased down as my partner of the upcoming universal emprise picked it up. At the very cradle of the tea's potency, he mindfully poured two cupfuls. As the teacups settled, they were brought to a toast thanking the night that was just about to unveil itself.
*eye contact*
*exchange of smirky grins*
"This is gooooood." I marveled once the tea met my throat.
"Mmhmm, sure is." He agreed.
We sat down with our teacups at the rectangularly round table and looked through some of the pictures I took over that year. Various images of different subjects gradually built into a supple feast for our eyes and thoughts. As we trekked about a conversation of creating a portfolio for my photos, an awakened sensation came. A pulsating vibration started to come to life in what I knew as my veins.
"I just gotta be outside." I knew I could not be confined to a walled cube even if it was pleasant to the eye and the mind.
"Absolutely, let's go." he concurred with a slight nod and proceeded to open the door for me and then let himself out.
The night was shy of many stars and still a virgin of moonlight. Sitting down on the top of the stairs that led down to a sprawling green surrounded with trees and plants of lush leaves, he and I happily sat in sheer silence. American Spirit was lit and inhaled as a heightening sense of alarming bodily sensations evolved into soft ecstasy. It couldn't have been reggae, jazz, or rock. It was just the whispers of nature and universal resonance. As the night became a deep cobalt blue, the moon was peering through the swaying leaves of that majestic tree which had a willowy feel. It hovered partly over us
"Do you feel it?" he peered over to me with his eyes asking a bigger question.
"Oh, I do. Do you?" I looked back at him with a smile that was just growing on its own.
"You bet." his grin was effortlessly turning into an appreciative burst of laughter.
We leaned back onto the wooden deck and rest our heads. The stars were arriving for the night. It was quite a blanket of gorgeous speckles that laid above us. It did not take but a few blinks of our eyes to notice what we were seeing.
A dome of a vastly glorious web was being knitted before our eyes in the night sky that held a deep shade of cobalt blue. It was so far but so near. Every single star was taken by a thread.
"Do you see... that?" I looked over to him emanating total astonishment in utter calmness.
"Yeah..." he seemed to trail off in thought as if he was wondering whether he was seeing what I was.
"This just proves Albert's thought on everything being relative. This is VISUAL PROOF, Marc." my amazement of the phenomenon that was gracing my sensory perception took over. I continued, "Do you see the strings between the stars?"
"Yes, I do. It's just so beautiful." he almost was too calm to have truly witnessed the miracle I was seeing.
Momentarily, the presence of that cosmic connectivity raised us upon our feet. After descending the stairs, we found ourselves surrounded with vivid green that was bursting and becoming bigger with life. It was like everything was hiding and just came out that night. The trees, stalks of plants, grass were swaying ever so softly in complete unison. The grass never felt so soft against my feet. I felt so much like a child surrendering oneself to the universe. I couldn't resist looking back up at the sky to see if the stars were still connected with finely glowing strings. I looked.
They were.
The sway of that one majestically mounded tree drew us near it.
Clemens the cat seemed to appear out of nowhere with his eyes fixated on us. Not a single thing was silent or rampaging. Yes, everything was in pure unison. It was like a visual proof of oneness. We floated on our feet all over the green inhaling the given shade of consciousness. The small country road and the line of its gentle streetlights slightly left of the living green invited our floating feet. Walking forward, there was not a trace of inkling to look back. None whatsoever.
Not many other times would entice the magic of walking barefooted with the power of a waterfall. We had plenty of company in the laughing breeze, dancing leaves, mysteries of the velvety thickets that seemed to peer at us with a synchronous balance of loving curiosity and nourishing care all under the alluring security of moonlight. It seemed like we were walking towards another reality. Even after a while, it was hard to turn back for the burgundy red carpet and dark brown walls. Everything seemed so safe and warm.

Okay, must I not trail off on something like my soapbox in the middle of a shiny forest. As you see, it was quite a night's journey. The power of any turning point is that there is no turning back. This experience revealed to me on a humble level how connected we all really are.

The universe speaks well of romance.

Monday, July 12, 2010

A Serendipity of Being Toe-Deep

Treading water
can sometime resemble
a certain recollection,
perhaps, from...
another lifetime.

Slipping the toes in the water
can sometime be described
as going through a surreal portal.

Going forward in the water,
deeper and deeper,
the deeper one enters the water,
the water is no longer just water.

A transformation happens in the water.
The surreal portal widens,
what remains lies as a choice.

and live beyond the surreal portal
turn back
and abandon the water.

What sayeth you?

Thursday, July 8, 2010

The 3:30 AM Shooting Star

Soaking in virtual reality I was with a certain universal relativity hovering over my presence when the figure of a child walked towards me from the hallway. It was nearly pitch black in my eyesight when I looked away from the computer. It was a very vulnerable hour of a brand-new day. The dawn was slowly floating onwards to the moon that seemed to contentedly hang perfectly angular amongst the speckles of glowing dots also known as stars. Still, dawn was taking its sweet time when that I realized the child was my daughter in pain.
"Mama, my leg huuuurts. It realllly hurts."
"Oh, are you doing some more growing?"
"This really hurts a lot more than those times."
"Really? Breathe it out. Come lay besides me."
I set a place for her right next to me on the floor in Grandma's living room. I looked at her as she gulped down a good sip of water granting way to a belief of further relief. As she caught her breath after a longer sip, Autumn looked up at me with big, peering eyes. Finding myself mesmerized by the color of her eyes, it was just always a long ripple of a mental wave trying to name a known shade of green. Well, I can't just settle for hazel. After kissing her forehead, I looked in her eyes and told her the pain is only going to subside without words. Only brief moments after I returned to the good-as-invisible tubes of virtual reality, Autumn, my daughter, insisted the pain was taking over her peace of mind.
"Okay, tell you what, let's get up.", we stood up and headed for the door of the apartment building that I've known for too long. I will say some "too long's" achieve a sweet place in the heart, anyway. However, the apartment building did not always have doors enclosing its entry. Pushing the door open looking back facing Autumn, she looked at me with a gleam of something like calm zest in her eyes.
Quietly we set off barefooted for the whole block. Two whole different realms of memories were going through Autumn's and my minds as our bare feet rhythmically hit the cement. As a split second took place, a thought shot to mind and made me chuckle from the inside, "I am taking my daughter on a 3:30 AM walk. This excellent mark probably will last me for a long time."

About 16 inches shorter of a horizon carried a girl of seven and half peering about her world in a way she's never seen before. A grin infallibly found its home on her sweet face as she looked slightly up towards me, "We are walking in the middle of the night!"
"Yup, we sure are." I confirmed the reality of her delight.
By this time, we were more than halfway around the block. Our view right then was a little playground below the wondrous sky colored in a shade of midnight blue. So many tiny glowing dots seemed to smile upon us. As a heightening crispiness of silence fell upon our smiling beings, a shooting glowing dot fell right in my eyesight. A very confirmed sense of magic instantly warmed the veins of my body that so happened to parallel as a channel. Right then, I knew it did not matter if Autumn saw the shooting star or not because we were one. Separateness is only an illusion, yes, a rather persistent one as Albert said reality was.

Well, life is one beautiful illusion and can you just imagine the beauty of truth?

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Earth Bath

I feel quite washed out.
Life has been a series of waves;
some majestic,
others almost too small to credit...

To be washed out,
would you think
of it
as an end
an awakening?

Sunlight penetrates the rounded corner
of your shoulder
the zone brought upon by
gently shut eyes
resonates the outline of your body
like you are watching from the view of a bird.

Your head rests on your raised and slightly bent,
partially folded arms
as your stomach presses
against the cushion
of warm, fine sand.
Slowly you scan
the present vibrations
rhythmically beaming
from the center
of your body.

Might you take notice
of what is old
or what is new?

To me,
to you,
may float a different side of the coin.
I assure you, still,...
it is the same coin.

So, to be washed out
is to be awakened.

The question remains.
What do you awaken to?
A new piece to the bigger picture?
More or less,
a "new" piece.

New doesn't mean new.
It easily could mean rediscovered.
There may not be really anything new.
Even the birth of a roaring dawn
might be anything but new.
New is only of the conditioned mind.

Dive in to the basin that dares no entry of any uttered word.