Standing meditation.
4 years ago I walked through ancient redwoods and awed at their size.
Their presence.
160 feet up I slept for a while and pondered the world and man’s
actions upon it.
Shed tears for animals.
Now I walk Viamonte, Reconquista, and Cordoba.
Puff the cigar.
Sip the mate.
A rat darts from the triangular sewer.
Dude on motorcycle fly across Alem.
Taxis pause at the red.
Catilas buildings: light up like honeycombs.
Who am I?
What’s my purpose?
Puff. Puff.
Refill my gourd.
I have to admit that I’m a happy dude, at least most of the time.
Have goals?
Yeah, sure.
We need goals.
Even the Buddhist, with his no-goal mind, has the goal of having no goals.
Time ticking?
Yes and no.
Yes, in the respect that I should do the work I need to do while in this physical — that’s why I came back.
No, because the journey never ends and I’ll take another vehicle soon enough.
Perhaps another dimension?
Dreams?
Of course.
To stay the course.
My evolution is to meet God today, not tomorrow.
I seal my 24 hours in air tight compartments.
Yesterday was leftovers.
Tomorrow is just the scent.
I think there’s something to this mate thing.
People drain me.
Some entertain me.
Others have disdain for me.
Many wish to claim me.
Puff. Ash. Puff. Puff.
Spill the thermos water.
I wasn’t burned.
What’s up with New York, B?
Just now, I think of Thoreau’s face.
People thought him ugly.
Nah, they just didn’t understand.
His presence was beyond his time.
And Emerson: he was the Father.
Booed out of Harvard Hall when he said that each man was God.
Whitman printed his quote on his book, against his wishes.
Emerson called him an alligator.
I need to step back from Facebook.
Standing Meditation
Standing on 3 inches
So these are the trials, eh?
I recently read that exactly what’s ahead of us, is exactly what we need right now.
Sounds about right, but it also sounds cold and shitty—tough.
Cloudy today.
No more harsh summer days lately. Still humid, though.
Argentine women walking on three inches.
I wonder how some people can be so grumpy and mean and still get through the day—shit, at least act!
“It’s tough out there for dreamers.”
Happiness isn’t something deserving, but something that’s on tap anytime I want it.
Let happiness not and never be a result of anything!
Perhaps I have to go through hell to come out right.
The cake does, doesn’t it?
Where are the trees?
Each tree is a God, standing perpendicular to the heavenly plane.
Nah, I’m not spiritual nor religious — what do these words really mean?
I’m certainly not a writer nor a speaker.
Human, never was.
I’ve been to this place many times; perhaps that why I’m so well-versed with its inhabitants.
Perhaps that’s why they appear as glass.
I don’t think failure is “bad,” but necessary.
Failure is our built-in correction device, that brings us back to the center from each waver.
I’m starting to see that.
My enemies are really not enemies at all. While they’re hating, I’m sending them as much positive energy as I can afford.
My blue chakra is open, but the green needs help at times.
Don’t mistake my full lotus as true meditation—nah, that’s just the exercise.
Kha put me on to the full breath and I went somewhere with the Sally that bright night.
Pranayama.
Last night, I jumped into a mouth of a dinosaur.
I wonder how many bamboos will appear in my garden this March?
The Monster
The city is a monster. It’ll pick at you like a pigeon on bread. It eats everything. Eats your money. Eats you soul. Eats your relationships. Eats your energy. It’s a hungry fucker! It eats and we feed it. It gets fatter and fatter and fatter. Yes, we feed it well. As much as it eats us, we, too, pick at it. We’re addicted to this shit and don’t even know it.
We’re blindfolded monkeys with suits and ties, stumbling around in the dark thinking we’re getting somewhere. Fish in a tank, waiting for our master to drop a few flakes on the surface. We can’t even see through the glass anymore.
Ha, this money thing. Yes, this system is hungry. Money fattens the monster. Greed. Ambition. Competition. Smoke laden air pluming from every bus, fucking with my air.
The ego loves this monster. They’re best buddies. The ego and the monster sit and plot and scheme and devise plans to remain on top. We live in high buildings for a reason. We tolerate the wicked for a reason. We continue to fatten him while forgetting Him.
He’s not a cool dude. That’s the mess we’re in. We think he’s cool! So cool that we not only put up with him, but he becomes all the we know. All that we need. All that we care about. We listen to him when he says: go to work; behave; climb the corporate ladder; fuck honesty; fuck the weak; fuck doing the right thing.
We’re lost in this monster.
The sane have to become insane to preserve sanity.
The insane pretend to be sane to preserve the monster.
God help us.
Peace.
when I hated Him, He loved me more
How healing it’s been since being home these past two-months. Sometimes I’m sick. Not with nasopharyngitius, or what we call a cold. Nor with headaches or bellyaches more than anyone else. No, not sick physiologically. I become sick when I think myself greater than God. God? Who’s that? Any explanation would be moot, so forgive me if I omit a definition. But I’m sure that you can fill in the blank for yourself, drawn from your own spirit or, purported, lack thereof. I believe that we all believe in a Higher Force to whom we, to some degree or another, submit to. And it’s precisely this “submission” that I’d like to briefly dabble onto this screen [tops off the Malbec] . What I write is as good as a Rorschach blot, make of it what you will. Fuck a paragraph, shall I continue? I remember 2004 telling God to “fuck off” after getting fired from a job that I was tricked into working for free, then after two weeks finding out that I was not only not getting paid, but that my “trail run” was over — mind you, the night before I was told by the owner that “the job was mine!” It was that day that I stopped praying to God for several years. I went into a deep, quote unquote, metaphysical bend. “God doesn’t exist… he can’t. I’m in control. I’m the man! I create my reality. I’m in charge!” Existentialism was spotted in my rearview, then pull up along side my frontal lobe after illegally crossing the parallel lines of my left-right brain hemisphere. The “Nations of Gods and Earths” briefly committed a parking violation, until I paid judge off with RZA as my bodyguard. Buddhism crept in quietly at night and camped out, rent free, for a bit. Activism came storming in like a bee in October, ready to die. Jennifer was hit by a car and died suddenly. I mourned her two young kids she left behind. I cried when her son wrote me on Myspace asking for help. Sick! I say… yes, sick! Sick I find myself at times. Oh God, you’ve never left my side. Even when I snuffed and kept you out like a mosquito, you still watched and oversaw my development. We brushed shoulders during my deep Zen studies, learning about Big and Small Mind. Your influence was there like creeping light under a door, barely noticed but only a sliver was needed. How…how kind of you. As I sat in full lotus, on the hot night of June 2010, I knew someone was there. I began to float out and rise above the corporeal, so began my astral travel investigations. Wasn’t that you guiding me through each “bad” trip? I spoke to the dog and he said that he wouldn’t bite me. I spoke to the ants in Sophia’s apartment and each one said that they were ready to die for the Whole. Weren’t you in Sonia with every good selfless act. I told John I’d kill him if he threatened those whom I love the most. Two weeks later I meditated and felt sorrow for those actions, but knew in my heart that it was okay to protect those you love by any means necessary. Khalik put me on to the power of my writing and told me to stop compartmentalizing my mind. Mate blew my fucking brain apart! Wisdom does not and will never correlate to physical age! Walden was read and re-read, and read again. The seal of Emerson was snipped and I once again went down Transcendental Lane. Sick! I say… yes, sick! Sick I find myself at times. Each step away from God is, and only can be, the true disease. Monotheism, polytheism, Christian, Catholicism, Buddhism, what have you, can only be my frames. The true picture is beyond the word. Ask Lao, he’ll tell ya! So God, here we are. I’m back in the bosoms that I only thought I’ve left, but never really did. Love! Love is the only evolution. And I feel, as 2011 dithers into 2012 like a sick FCP transition, I feel secured in knowing that I am not in control. Control will be granted to the extent in which I relinquish it. You! You are Supreme. I Atman, hereby buzz Brahman up to the penthouse and grant VIP access. But as I take the elevator up, while only thinking about the invitation, I open the door to see Him already there…sipping a gourd, open arms, ready for an embrace. I’m 28 now and growing back into the old man I was before. Don’t be surprised when you see me in your dreams, I’m there to help — but only as a vessel. Drink! If God is in the mood for Malbec that night, you’ll sip that from me. If he’s in the mood for clarifying a problem in your life, drink that from me too. But please don’t give me credit. A holy man is always a hollow man. Bamboo is not the strongest grass? I’m ready to begin preparing to be ready. Those that say they know only know that they don’t. These past 2 moons have been healing. But even health isn’t free, it costs something. Certified check or cash? Nah man… God wants direct deposit. Hit BOA. Stepping away from God is like injecting yourself with the HIV… it’s a death sentence. I’ve known this, but, as we all do, acted like a eyelid and blacked out the truth. But even in the dark one can see. Needless to continue this rhapsody, this type-blot. I feel good — God. I’m happy that I headed back to the Island and plugged back in. I dare you to return to your own Island and do the same. In a few days I’ll land in EZE for another go. Bueno… esta bien…esta bien…
Sick! I say… yes, sick! Sick I find myself at times.
Salvia Marijuana Moon
186,000 miles per second — speed of light. 1,126 miles per second — speed of sound. My voice will arrive by way of 768 miles per hour. Fuck a video, I’ma r(wr)i(te)ght a book! Fuck youtube, I’m blogging this jewel.
We split the nick, he rolled his and I rolled mine. But Salvia was calling me, so I pinched her in before I twisted up the bamboo paper. Peace to the bamboo plants. Once there were five, now one-hundred-and-sixty gods tower and sway in my garden. They are the overseers of the others, reaching above and leaning below with a motherly bow.
Namaste.
The rabbit came to me, but it couldn’t get through the fence. She kept’a trying. She knows me. “Take deep breaths after each exhale… it’s good when you do that.” “Aight.” Fifteen-years earlier we’d be outside smoking Newports 100s… but we’ve graduated. The mind percolated. And as if perforated, my soul tore off my body and I was out.
I could taste Sally. “Hey D!” “Hey Sally D, what’s up?” “I got you now mannnn!!…” “Haha… oh shit.. You do!… please protect me. Teach me. Show me. I bow to you.” “Yes, you do… but you mixed me…now I’m going to overshadow these trees… you’re not treed, but trippin’. Don’t lay down… go! Go outside and walk. I’ll take you to the moon if you let me.”
A tree has many branches — left, right, up, and down — but the trunk grows upright. Many directions, but still One. “What am I doing with my life?” “Relax, you’re on the path. Write righteously and walk Christly.” Right each word, then write each word. Chess? Nah, I’m on the Go. God spoke to me in the form of a man, a moon, a room, pictures, and the songs. Mate spoke loud and clearly. The kangen water 9.5 said that her molecular structure was the purest shit. The herb was piggybacked by the Sally. Sally got to the car first and sat upfront, Sativa in the back. Sit back.
Breatheeee……
Heart racing. When the consciousness expands the breath becomes more powerful. It can propel you forward like a rocket; stop you; pull you up; bank you left or right. I was two skips away from flying. “Where am I?” Body without feeling, I traveled by light. Physiology became inert. Psychology was alert.
Hairline between sanity and insanity. Heaven and Hell. God and Devil.
I watched and studied every picture he took. Taking pictures of pictures of pictures of pictures. William Case sat in lotus position and observed the Gods in conversation. Right then the room breathed too — expanded and contracted — systole and diastole — ida and pingala.
Ayurveda is being aligned with Nature and remaining in true health. Bark can heal your cancer. I’ve killed in a past life and that shit gets me down at times. But this life I’m doing the lessons. My next, I’ma be Carthusian with my hoody, building in absolute Silence. “Into Great Silence,” watch that…
20x was her strength but how could God be measured? She was sly and subtle. Scary when I chased her. Nah, she did all the talking. “Was that even me walking?” He told me that it was my writing! That my writing was my trunk! And I told him that I doubted that. He said “nah man… you travel through words faster than speaking. It’s all the same, but your vehicle is better suited to written. You must write your story.”
Thermus under my arm, mate in my hand… standing. My room now an art gallery. How powerful this plant is! She told me to keep with her. Ilex Paraguariensis. Pine trees. Oak trees. Cold outside. Bright moon. Rolling clouds. Air so fresh. The moon pulled me up and said come. Stepped into the studio and spoke about art. Art spoke about us. And we listened. At that moment anything was possible. Pollack and Basquiat came to mind and I had an urge to see an artist kill themselves before they died and continue to do art.
“You’re awake!…most people walk around dreaming… sleep dreaming and wake dreaming…” “The salvia wakes you up..” “I woke myself up” “Same” The spirit was always a step ahead of me. It turned before I thought about turning. Stopped before I thought about stopping. Acceleration of creation in the third dimension. Between dimensions. Beyond comprehension.
Go back to Argentina? Stay in New York? Does it even matter? One step here is exactly the same as one step there — for I’m me no less.
Meditation is the KEY
I know, in my heart, how important meditation is. Though I don’t meditate everyday. I meditate rather sporadically nowadays with benefits spilling over to the days that I don’t practice (sitting) meditation. More than learning a language (which I currently am, here in Argentina). More than making money. More than educating & helping others. Meditation is the most important thing a person can do for himself, I believe. So why don’t I do it daily? Well, I believe meditation is more of a way of living than anything else. I see & feel the benefits of sitting meditation more than, let’s say, meditation while washing plates. However, I cannot discount those times when meditating while doing daily chores or, perhaps, while walking, riding a bike, or just sitting around watching the clouds roll past the sun. In those moments, I interface with my true essence. I taste the spices of my own constitution. And I feel the spirit which runs through me and through the universe at once. Meditation is the KEY that unlocks the myriad of realizations. It un-wonders all wonders. It masters all doubt. It’s absolutely paramount to liberation, Meditation.
clean the shit out of your brain
If you allow a piece of shit to remain in your room for long enough, at first it’ll smell, then in time, you’ll forgot that it was there for you have become desensitized to its odor. Evil thoughts in your mind work in the same way. First they’ll disturb you, and if left unchecked, they’ll run amuck without you even realizing. So please clean the shit out of your brain, won’t you?
Life is a risk. And in the risk lies a reward.
You must take risks during your 20s more than any other period of your life. This isn’t the time to play it safe, but to gamble large. This is the time to go for it. Break out of the comfort (re: discomfort) of your 9 to 5. Reject the ideas & images that your good ol’ parents aggressively project and enforce upon you. It’s time to make power plays. Power moves. Be dangerous. It’s time to be careless with your life, with care. How many poor souls awake in their 50s wishing they took more risks in their 20s? You have no family nor major commitments, yet you live your life as if you were a 65 year-old with 7 children in college. How is this so? Why are you so damn cautious? You have settled into a life that you are so displeased with. So fed up with. Yet, you do nothing. You’ve pressed pause on life. You continue to awake at 5am for what: to make another man richer than he already is? Are you seriously content with this slavish lifestyle? In think that, deep down inside, you’re itching for adventure. Craving to taste the true spices of life. Desiring change. Wanting to venture outside of your comfort zone into the gems of the unknown. Life isn’t McDonald’s Happy Meals, it’s sipping coconut milk on crystal clear beaches. So I say, go for it Motherfucker! For once in your pathetic life, take the path less traveled – roll the dice and see what happens. Life is a game that you’ve chosen not to participate in; a mere spectator, crying over your self-manufactured woes… Well, it’s time to jump in. No, nose-dive your way into Life! Explore what this world has to offer. Nothing is safe and secure, so why are you trying to live your life in such a sterile manner? Nah, man… Life is dirty! Life is raw! Life is the rough soil from which all grows from. Money — what is it ? — financial security got you worried? A home? Children one day, perhaps? Ah, I see, these are the things you seek to “secure”? Ha. What an illusion. Let me tell you something: life isn’t about securing a single thing except for the liberation of yourSelf. And no “playing it safe” is going to lead to such a liberation. Life is a risk. And in the risk lies a reward.
Happiness is the new disease
For people to see other people truly happy, it has become a weird and esoteric event to witness! Happiness has become the new disease, sadly. We’re all sad, depressed, angry, envious, and jealous of one another, that is has become more than normal not to be happy — ever. And interesting, when we witness that lone happy soul, we attack him like a pack of hungry wolves. Why? Because it has become disturbing to see a sparkle is someone’s eye. To witness the god in others that has long been extinguished in ourselves. We are angered when we come face to face with that we have lost in the eye’s of others. “That person is weird” or “why is he always smiling” we wonder. But the true mystery we ask is “how have I gotten to this point of sadness and despair?” Happiness has become the disease that so many want to eradicate because it present another way of living. A way less ambitious and more loving. Less fighting and more hugging. And this new way is really a return to the origin. And this is the return that society at large is ardently working to pacify. But No! No! Be happy and shine godly rays. Their “weird” is our “sane.” Smile. Embrace. And tighten the chasm between you & me. Let happiness be your passport to love. And to a connection with those sad souls that obscure your light. Happiness isn’t a disease, but an age-old panacea. This is your true Nature. Sadness, anger, depression — yes — these are the bumps on this ride we call Life. But the direction on this journey must be happiness. Move forward.
Does a truly happy person exist in this time we live in? Yes, but they are a scare as the golden nugget in the stream. Far and few between we’re spaced out like planets. But let us use our cosmic energy to radiate the bliss – light up the sky! Through meditation we’ll astrally meet and share moments of smiles and laughs. Through kind actions we’ll create example to inspire the world. In our lucid dreams we’ll fly and drop rhymes of love from the sky.
An update from Buenos Aires
Still here in Buenos Aires, Argentina. This marks the longest that I’ve been away from home in another country. Today it rained a lot and I quite like it as I walked the streets umbrella-less. Rain watering me as she does the flowers. Perhaps I’ll grow now. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve taken Spanish lessons and I feel as though my espanol is decreasing, not improving all that much as of lately. Well, what do I expect when I spend 90% of my day speaking English. Still buzzing from my trip up north to Salta last week. I felt, that week, that my spanish was on the up and up since I spoke a lot of it every day. Now, however, I rarely speak it while being back in the city. I need to make a drastic change, pronto. Either resume private lessons, volunteer, travel, or a combination. Not sure what’s next for me, but I’ll be damned if I leave South America without having a strong conversational ability to speak castellano. My money situation is great right now, so I can really travel just about anywhere in South America. But I’ll probably stay here in Argentina for now. It’s a hard place to learn spanish since people speak it so fast here, but I feel, in the long-run, that it’ll suite me well to stay for now. Been sort of in a rut here… spending most of my days in my overly-expensive apartment, surfing the web, and reading Thoreau. Oh, and writing in my journal from time to time. I’m itching for something new, so I’m sure that something it brewing….
The need to show yourself
If you feel the need to show yourself, you must feel invisible
pondering “loss” in Uruguay
Last month I slipped out of Buenos Aires for a few days and visited Uruguay with a few friends. My spirit was longing for a change, an escape from the dirty city. And there I found wide beaches, wild flowers, and good times through the towns of Colonia and Montevideo.
One night while sitting at dinner, my mind became transfixed with the thought of “loss.” Accepting the probability that the people I sat among, my friends from Spanish school, will become but a memory to me after my time spent abroad. Chances are that I’ll never see them again in my life.
me in Colonia, Uruguay -- watching the sunset
But now, sitting here, back in Argentina, I muse over this concept of loss once again. Though I may not see my friends again, I can never “lose” them. They have become the strokes on the canvass of my life. And the picture will forever be on my inner-wall. This is all a journey of people, events, friends, foes, woes, and experiences. And like a net, my spirit is capturing them all in an indestructible collage.
True loss can only be experienced on a spiritual level, never on the material plane. If you acknowledge material loss, the only thing you’ve lost is yourself. A camera is fine. A video camera is excellent. But the best is what you can do. You capture the truth. Or more accurately, you have the potential to capture the truth. Something no camera can obtain.
I’d be a liar to deny that I don’t suffer from the material absence — the distance — between friends and family, being thousands of miles away. But I take solace in the comfort of filling said distance with love. Love can fill any gap. Love can travel any distance. When you understand love, it becomes your panacea to any sense of loss and detachment. It’s the glue of life.
study the seasons
Given one thing to study, study the seasons. Understand the changing of seasons and you have understood yourself.
the things we create
There’s always a communication between the creator and what’s created. An inseparably, ethereally, woven bond. What you create also creates you.
directing negative energy
Throw a stone at someone and break their skin.
Curse at someone and injure their character.
But direct negative energy at someone,
and you’ve committed the
worst action of all.
You’ve assaulted their spirit.
And principally,
you’ve begun to extinguish the
light of your soul.
the so-called city
Trapped in a cage; instead of bars, I’m surrounded with buildings and skyscrapers. A city in nothing more than a clever cage. A cage that not only domesticates a man, but pollutes his spirit. We stare at the monkey and pity him for being locked up in the zoo, all the while, we, too, are locked up behind the thickest walls of all: illusion. We’re not free, we’re prisoners to a system built and designed by none other than ourselves. Pity the monkey? Ha! The monkey pities you. You are the weakest strongest animal to walk the face of the earth. And you in the city — the so-called center of the world — think you’ve reached the pinnacle — the golden land — the paradise? No, you’re in the periphery of a vision that’s so much truer and loving than yours.
It’s how you express what you have
It’s not what you look like, but how you look upon others. It’s not how much money you have, but how you spend it. It’s not how much you love yourself, but how much you love others. It’s not just about the peace you have, but the peace you make.
