Haiti, I Hail You

Haiti... I hail you amidst all my most positive thoughts, the kind that say I wish I could do more than I can, like dig the dirt off your hands, stack the ruble to one side continuously until there isn’t any, I am thinking of you.

Reading is all that I find of you, in my world where the water swirls differently…amidst flightless birds, I am hearing calls worldwide for your rescue, and defense of no enemy, only nature upturning her ends, cutting split-ends on the surface that is not personal, not like us, but very much like us…discarding that which has no purpose in our coiffeur, cannon or coffin.

Three seems to be the eternal symmetry for uniting hands.

My hands are at work writing your affect on my mind from an abundance of well wishers, to one lonely dirge, problems come out of the woodwork when fear for fellow creatures are at hand, some are worthwhile, and some are not to a few rotten lot, but they are dying, too…boohoo.

False tears are not viable for long. Only those born from a broken heart, with a mournful song, will be heard in the birth of your disaster, singing tunes that remind us of our sustainability, like martin and mohandas creating moksha (Lit. freedom from birth and death. The nearest English equivalent is salvation).

Let not the ideas of any science, theory, philosophies be mocked with threat of death, but invited to live somehow silently quiet in different proximities. She is larger than life, our earth; our boundaries are self regulated, unnatural. Nature is not an invisible hand to something else invisible, but an observable fact of face grooming without selection.

IT could happen to any of us…and, we all need to remember that by doing our part to make it less painful, whatever that part may be…even if, it is to be silent Pat Robertson…hush up, go to bed, we will wake you when the ordeal is over.

Haiti, wear your situation with the understanding that billions of hands are helping you, if only in their minds. Painful, precious prayers from believers and non-believers alike…planting seeds of survival for you in their minds, not with judgment or malediction, but with downright willfulness toward your prediction, coming in planes, by boats, by internet, by the light of each day a new and additional wave of friendly hands to dig you out, and up and on your way toward the next day and the next day and the next.

Aftershock continues for forever, in smaller waves, but there has been a great deal of punctuation in the phrase existing in your freedom. Long live Haiti, a people’s nation that must arise above that which already is, already has been, pick a different way inside your knowingness and arise, live, lay out your arms toward one another and all that is. Embrace the living and bury the dead with the dignity of appreciation for those yet living to ride the earthquake of destruction in their own living rooms, stuffed away in places that feel so safe because they say so, and not because it is.

Haiti, I hail you as people like any other, with the same desires, needs and deeds of the most pious of nations, the most degraded, the mix is the same everywhere there is sentient life that separates us by our wills. Will yourselves to a resurrection, whole and completed by the humble embracement, with the dignity of understanding the way things ‘is’…and, simultaneously, the way ‘they shall be’.

Haiti, they 'shall be' you inside the turmoil, maybe even now, with a different title, a different label, a different type of disaster. Each loving hand has a heart attached to a personal measure of grave issues of the soul…quaking in the boots they wear to rescue you. Haiti, I hail you…

On higher levels of pain, the most positive reflections of pure love surface, to shine…a way into the grave of every soul, and then the turmoil goes away by degrees of comparison, the hardest day that always makes the brightest day’s heightened measure, we treasure it all the same, we survive brilliantly.

Curio Bay

Every campsite needs a water tank. Curio Bay, on the North of the Catlins region of the South Island of New Zealand, gets a thong and a wave for best water tank.

Back from the Break

Okay, I've been travelling around the South Island of New Zealand for the past month. Yes, the catch was fantastic at Moeraki. And then, we came home regrouped and went to the Catlins, then to Central Otago and back home again.

Along the way we met so many wonderful folks...the kind that cook you a breakfast on the barbeque and even clean up all the dishes while you are told to sit and relax...imagine that...a real holiday!?!

Before Christmas

Before Christmas is always a special time that begins with Thanksgiving and lasts right up until the New Year. It is a time wherein I do huge amounts of internal research on my past and present juxtapositions. Many years ago, I was a Christmas Demon...rushing around and buying something for everyone....this gradually faded into attempts to bring back meaning by making all the said gifts by hand...for those ventures, I had nothing but an empty wallet for the beginning of the year and/or very sore hands.

Now, I do a lot of watching and witnessing...and internalizing. I avoid retail stores like the plague, while painting and writing with no dead line. I have forgiven myself for telling my childrern stories as truth, when in reality there is no big fat man bringing relief. There is nothing I have to buy, as the gift I have found to be the most important...is the gift of my time.

It is a time, when enough people take off...that you can actually spend some time with them. I love how New Zealand still shuts down, less than more these days, but more than less compared to where I use to live in the USA...people in New Zealand get out and embrace their baches, their weekend retreats and some still take a month to create a home away from home in one of their favorite spots...outside the home. I'm digging that...

This week, my partner and I will go to the Moeraki Boulders...he will fish, I will walk the beach, contemplate the boulders, write and paint. No doubt, we will eat lots of fish...he is optimistic for the catch...I am just pleased that I can choose to be somewhere where the surrounding area is not begging me for a purchase...and, the green is not juxtaposed with so much red.

Dear Mother...You Know

Dear Mother…you know. You know what you mean to me deep inside yourself, no matter what…you always know…that’s what a mother does. She knows something for you and helps you achieve that. She knows you need food and so…she gives you some. She knows you need to defecate…and so she changes your diaper, wipes your bottom, investigates all the crooks and crannies of your body in ways that you find disgusting sometime before five years of age. By then, your cracks are your own, unless of course there is a deep emergency…like poison ivy on the buttocks, or worse, in the crack…it begs to be administered to, no matter, ‘yo’ momma’.

You know because you were young, too…and know the difficulties of finding your voice in the turmoil of broken homes, beaten dreams, and shattered lives within the slip of every family…no matter what. I like to remember to listen to you…because you know a lot. You know what you know and what I might know… all at once. Mother, you rock!

When I forget to show you and tell you how much you mean to me, would you please do me a favor? Remember that you already know, because mother’s always know… no matter what…they know that everything goes round, growing and multiplying…no matter what…because it did for them, and that is what makes a mother, knowing that.

Dear Mother…you know who.

Babble-on

What a relief...a blank page and no one to sneer, snarl or roll the eyes...just an imaginative friend listening to all my lies. Lies, lies, lies...they lie about in my mind until I bring them to light. Light fixes them permanently pegged to little pixels that flip back into my face...yes, YOU wrote this @#*!.

But, why? Why do some of us insist upon writing down things while others are happy to let the lies lie? I haven't a clue, I just know that I am one of the two...

Consciousness

Consciousness feels like a bright spot that you look into, not out of, amidst the intersecting patterns inside the mind. It illuminates one small portion at a time but reminds us that there is so much more to see...eventually...